Chapter 50: El Clásico. [2]
The Bernabéu roared as the clock ticked past twenty seven minutes. The storm was building, every tackle and every sprint dripping with menace. Both teams had already tested each other. Now, the first cracks were about to show.
Eventually, after a tense back and forth between both sides, Madrid struck first in the 30th minute.
It began with a loose touch from Frenkie de Jong in midfield. Valverde pounced like a wolf, nicking the ball away and surging forward with it. He fed Mbappé instantly, who darted inside Araújo with terrifying ease.
Mbappé didn’t shoot.
He waited, feinted a shot and then slipped it across to Vinícius, and the Brazilian hammered it into the roof of the net.
GOAL!
Real Madrid 1 – 0 Barcelona.
BOOM!
The Santiago Bernabéu erupted.
White shirts leapt into the night air, flares igniting in the stands in a supernova as Real Madrid fans lost their minds. Vinícius sprinted to the corner, arms wide, screaming with fury at the away fans.
The away Barcelona fans were silenced.
Sam stood frozen for a moment, then he clapped his hands hard, shouting to his teammates. "Heads up! One goal means nothing!"
The goal rattled Barça, but only for a heartbeat. Sam’s energy infected the team, and they responded. From the sideline, Hansi Flick urged calm, gesturing his players higher.
They did just that.
In the 34th minute, Pedri pulled the strings. He glided away from Bellingham with a sharp turn, drove forward, and slipped the ball wide to Yamal.
Once again, the wonderkid dazzled. A quick step-over left Mendy stranded, before whipping in a curling cross.
Sam attacked the curling ball.
Rüdiger stuck to him and tried to wrestle him. Huijsen also leapt, but Sam rose above both. He refused to be smothered by both center backs as sheer willpower pushed him on, then... his header crashed against the crossbar.
Clang!
The away fans gasped, hands on heads. Courtois scrambled, but the rebound fell to Gavi who lashed it just wide.
Close. Too close.
Gavi grabbed his head in disbelief, biting his lips.
Madrid almost punished Barcelona immediately for that missed chance n the 37th minute as Rodrygo received the ball on the right.
Collecting the ball on the right, Rodrygo sliced inside Balde with a sudden burst of speed. His low cross found Mbappé in stride. The Frenchman swung first-time, but again, it was saved by García’s sprawling leg.
The rebound fell to Bellingham, who unleashed a thunderous drive.
And again, Jose García came big for Barcelona as he parried, this time clawing the ball away with fingertips.
The Bernabéu roared in frustration, but Madrid smelled blood now. Barça were wobbling.
And yet, it was when Madrid thought they had it already that the pendulum finally swung the other way. In the 41st minute of the game, Barcelona stunned the world, silencing the Santiago Bernabeu.
Barça’s moment came from nothing.
Frankie de Jong intercepted a sloppy pass from Guler whose influence has been limited in this game, before quickly releasing Raphinha down the left. The Brazilian tore into space, pulling Arnold wide before cutting inside.
Sam hovered at the edge of the box, calling for it, keeping his movements unpredictable to the defenders in the box.
Raphinha obliged, sliding the ball across.
Whoosh!
Sam’s first touch killed the ball, his second was a deft touch that shifted the ball past Rüdiger, and his third unleashed a curling strike that bent viciously into the top corner.
GOAL! Real Madrid 1-1 Barcelona.
The away end erupted, flares of blaugrana smoke rising as FC Barcelona fans exuberantly celebrated the equalizer. Sam sprinted to the corner, thumping his chest before pointing a finger to his head, emphasizing mentality.
The Bernabéu fell into stunned silence for a heartbeat before unleashing a wall of whistles and boos.
Rüdiger shook his head, muttering in fury. Xabi Alonso barked orders from the touchline, urging composure.
But Madrid weren’t finished.
Barcelona’s goal ignited the crowd as they turned the Santiago Bernabeu into an even louder cauldron of noise. The crowd fed their stars, urging them forward.
In the 44th minute, Vinícius Jnr. drew a foul wide on the left. Arnold swung in the free kick, causing chaos in the box as bodies flung everywhere.
The ball fell loose at the edge of the area.
And that was where Bellingham stepped in. One touch to tame the ball, and then, he launched his right foot to shoot.
BAM!
The ball screamed low through a sea of legs, clipping Balde on the way, taking a deflection before nestling in the corner.
GOAL! Real Madrid 2 – 1 Barcelona.
BOOM!
The Santiago Bernabéu erupted again, this time with a guttural roar that shook the heavens. Bellingham sprinted, sliding on his knees, arms outstretched, face lit with defiance.
"Hala Madrid!" The crowd thundered.
Bellingham kissed the Real Madrid badge.
Sam stood at midfield, breathing hard, watching Madrid celebrate. His eyes burned, but his face stayed calm. The fight was only beginning.
As halftime approached, the final seconds of the half divulged into chaos as Barça pushed desperately for another equalizer
In the 46th minute, Pedri and Yamal combined brilliantly, slicing through Madrid’s flank. Yamal’s low cross skidded across the box, inches from Sam’s boot before Courtois smothered it.
At the other end, Vinícius darted clear on a counter, one-on-one with Jose García. But before he could take the shot, Ronald Araújo slid in with a monstrous tackle, saving Barça at the death.
The referee’s whistle blew.
[HALFTIME: Real Madrid 2-1 Barcelona]
The Bernabéu was a volcano; Madrid was in front but it was not a comfortable lead. Barça had landed blows of their own. Sam’s equalizer burned in memory, a warning of storms to come.
...
In Madrid’s dressing room, Xabi Alonso’s voice was steel. "Do not stop. We have them, we just have to keep going. Yes, they will come harder. But remember, they are fragile when we press. Break them!"
Bellingham nodded, eyes locked, sweat dripping down his brow.
...
In Barcelona’s camp, Hansi Flick raised his voice above the whistles of the Bernabéu crowd filtering in.
"Look at them celebrating like they’ve already won".
He stared his players in the eyes. "Do not let them breathe in the second half. Yamal, keep running at them. Raphinha, wider, stretch them till they can’t breath. Sam... finish this".
Sam only nodded and was silent; his eyes burned like fire. The first half was done, but the war was only halfway.
The second half waited... and history waited with it.