Slowly but surely, the time wound down as more and more football players and famous personalities appeared, but the one whom everyone had their eyes on seemed to be running late.
"It might rain before he gets here," one of the cameramen said after he felt a tap of water on his wrist.
A fellow beside him nodded, before glancing in the direction that almost all of the people seemed to arrive from, but before he could fully settle on what he was glancing at, a ruckus began from the side as cameras lifted higher and people scrambled to the front.
"
Laisse-moi passer.
" (Give me way)
"
Il est ici!
"(Heās Here)
"Get a good picture"
"
Izan, per favore guarda qui!
"(Izan please look here!)
Voices overlapped as someone even shouted his name wrong, then again louder, hoping volume would fix it.
Izan stepped out of the car and paused, not for the cameras, but because Olivia had lightly caught his sleeve, straightening it once.
The Saint Laurent suit caught the eyes of the journalists around with that trying too much, and for the fashion enthusiasts or media there, it was a feast as their cameras snapped more and more.
Izan, without blinking even amidst the flurry of lights, lightly moved a strand of the hair covering his face to the side before patting his bun slightly and then moving forward.
Olivia walked beside him, trying to keep calm, but only did so when Izan held her arm and looped it around his.
"Thank you," Olivia mouthed with a genuine smile while Komi and Hori followed behind, same as Miranda, as they got to the step and repeat area.
"Over here, Izan."
"Just one look."
He nodded once and took a few pictures with his little entourage of Mom, sister, agent and girlfriend before taking some pictures alone.
After that, Izan nodded curtly at the journalist and reporters before moving forward with the aid of a staff member into the Theatre with the other 4 women.
"Hola," was the first thing he heard after he entered.
He turned towards the source of the voice and found Pedri and Lamine, stepping out of their entourage, with the former having two of his fingers raised.
"So do you still exist?" Pedri asked as he got near Izan.
Izan smiled.
"I could say the same about you. I havenāt heard from you after the Champions League final!"
"Haahaa," Lamine voiced sarcastically while Pedri shook his head before nudging Izan.
"Donāt get shook when they only call your name for the Socrates award, though I have to say, what you did was courageous of you. Still, the time it broke made it look like you did it on purpose."
Izan laughed wryly at Pedriās words while nodding slowly.
What Pedri was talking about was news breaking out a few weeks back of Izan donating his blood to save a kid(Leo) needing a rare type of bone marrow transplant.
And although it was well received by most, there was still a section of people talking about how it was an agenda by Izan himself to boost his image right before the Ballon dāOr ceremony.
"Do you think Iād even have the idea to do that?" Izan finally said after going quiet for a moment, to which Pedri shook his head in response.
"Miranda was so angry and even searched for who leaked it, but we didnāt find the person."
Pedri shook his head, amused.
"I feel for you."
"I donāt even know why we are here," Lamine said while nodding towards Izan.
"Theyāve already decided itās over," he said, jerking his head back toward Pedri.
Then he clapped Izan on the shoulder.
"Enjoy it. Nights like this donāt come back."
"You too," Izan replied with a little smirk before leaving Pedri and Lamine behind to an area where more of his Arsenal teammates were seated.
By the time the lights dimmed, Izan was already done with the pleasantries and seated beside the family he had come with.
On stage, Ruud Gullit stepped out first, smiling brightly before coming to a halt just as Kate Abdo joined him, poised but familiar as it was her third time hosting the highly acclaimed award ceremony.
"Good evening," Gullit said as the light dimmed further for a more dramatic effect, but still very bright for all seated and at home to see what was going on.
"Tonight is another of those nights again. Itās another night where exceptional individuals are noticed and rewarded for what they have given to the football world over the past season."
Kate took over smoothly, welcoming everyone on behalf of France Football, just before the screens behind them came alive.
A montage appeared on the screens, one of goals that bent physics.
Tackles that changed seasons and celebrations that spilled into tears.
A year compressed into memory and muscle.
The room watched on, and when the montage faded, Gullit returned, speaking plainly about the vote.
"Journalists. Captains. Coaches. All different eyes, but with just one question. Who shaped the year? Who bent it?"
Kate glanced out across the crowd.
"Tonight," she said softly, "we donāt just crown winners. We trace a shift."
Just as she finished, the lights rose a fraction as the ceremony truly began.
Ruud Gullit let the room settle before he spoke, hands resting loosely in front of him, eyes sweeping the theatre the way only someone who had owned rooms like this could.
"Alright," he said, voice calm, grounded. "Now we begin properly."
Kate Abdo turned slightly toward him, smiling.
"This is where the future usually introduces itself."
A soft ripple of laughter moved through the seats, not loud, but warm.
"The Kopa Trophy," Gullit continued, "isnāt about promise anymore. Not tonight. Itās about what has already been done."
The lights dipped as the screen behind them came alive with short clips of the nominees.
CubarsĆ stepping out of defence like he owned the pitch.
DouƩ gliding through tight spaces.
Yamal twisting defenders until they looked lost.
Neves pressing, stealing, moving again before anyone could breathe and others like Rodrigo Mora, as well as Kenan Yildiz and Dean Huijsen.
But then, like they had saved the best for last, Izanās came, and his highlight reel got some even questioning where he played because one second he was scoring, and then in the next, he was making a last-ditch clearance in the UCL final.
"Surely not," a person in the stands said as Kate stepped forward when the montage ended.
"These are the nominees for the 2025 Kopa Trophy," she said, letting each name breathe as it appeared.
When the list finished, the pause stretched.
Then Kate looked down at the card in her hand.
She glanced up once, eyes flicking toward Izanās seat, just for a second.
"The Kopa Trophy," she said, "for the best under-21 player in the world..."
"...winning for the second time and the first in history to do so,"
The theatre reacted before the sentence finished.
"Is Izan Hernandez?" came the call as Kate finished.
Izan, joking around with Hori, didnāt even hear his name until a second later.
He smiled once he got to his feet after that, with applause pressing in from every side.
He shook Gullitās hand on stage, then Kateās, before taking the award from the former Real Madrid man in Raphael Varane.
"I didnāt know you could win this twice," he said into the microphone, as he stood at the podium, honest enough that the room laughed with him.
"No one told me."
He glanced down, then back up.
"Thank you, really," he finished before he stepped off the stage with the room still buzzing.
Gullit returned to the centre after that, and waited till the applause still following Izan died down before continuing.
"From youth," he said, "to the last line of defence."
The Yashin Trophy followed as once again on the screen, saves were stitched together like scars.
One hand, two hands, fingertips, reflexes that didnāt make sense until they were already over.
"And this year," Kate said, smiling toward the front rows, "the Yashin Trophy goes to... David Raya."
The applause that came this time was different, mainly because all knew who the favourite was and they hadnāt been failed.
The Arsenal man got to his feet before making his way towards the stage and then grabbing his award.
A quick speech followed after that, before he made his way down the stage, as the next segment followed.