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In the tactical meeting room.
Atlético Madrid's manager, Simeone, sat back in his chair with his arms crossed, his feet propped up on the edge of the conference table as if he were in his own living room.
Dressed in a suit, he remained silent, his sleeves rolled up to reveal a tattooed arm covered in runes.
All 20+ members of Atlético Madrid's first team crowded into the meeting room, silent as cicadas.
The administrative assistant outside thought the meeting room was empty and pushed the door open, only to find a dense crowd. The assistant quickly stuck out her tongue and retreated.
The atmospheric pressure inside was too low; it was unbearable.
It wasn't until Simeone spoke that the atmosphere in the meeting room eased slightly.
"I've already cursed at you. Now calm down, and let's continue the review."
"The new year has just begun, and this is the report you've handed in: one draw and one loss."
"To be honest, losing is quite good. Because if you didn't lose, would you perhaps float up to the sky?"
Seeing Simeone's oppressive presence intensify, the Atlético Madrid lads couldn't help but shrink their necks.
He said he wouldn't curse anymore, so why did he start again?
"I won't say much about the Copa del Rey match against Rayo Vallecano; it was a rotated squad anyway, and a 1-1 draw away is normal. We'll turn it around at home."
"But look at the league standings, where have we ended up? Who will answer me!"
After two matches at the start of 2016, Simeone was fuming.
In the Copa del Rey Round of 16, Atlético Madrid faced Rayo Vallecano in a two-leg knockout tie.
In the first leg, Rayo Vallecano 1-1 Atlético Madrid.
That was one thing, but in La Liga Matchday 18, Atlético Madrid lost 2-3 to bottom-placed Levante, causing a major upset.
"I'll read you the media reports; listen to how bad your performance was!"
"Marca said it well: 'Lance's brace couldn't save his team, Levante's three goals break Atlético Madrid's unbeaten record, title contenders deliver a disastrous performance.'"
"And there's this news from Mundo Deportivo. Atlético Madrid suffers an upset, proving that Messi is truly La Liga's top superstar. Lance tends to disappear in tough matches and is not the team's saviour..."
"Listen to what Levante said; a player interview mentioned that the pressure against Atlético Madrid was not great, far less than against Barcelona..."
Simeone read a news article from his phone, a mocking smile growing on his face.
The players' heads dropped lower and lower, almost disappearing under the table.
It could be said that everyone was to blame except Lance.
Lance himself did not feel detached; every word from Simeone felt like a bullet hitting him.
When the team loses, the entire team is responsible.
Lance also regretted it; if those few absolute chances in the match had been handled more calmly, perhaps he could have led the team to victory.
He admitted that several shots had an element of gambling.
To put it bluntly, he didn't take bottom-placed Levante seriously.
The 2-0 score in the first half made all of Atlético Madrid relax their guard and start playing haphazardly.
As a result, in the second half, Levante had two divinely inspired counterattacks, levelling the score at 2-2.
Even a clay figure has a three-point temper.
As the bottom-placed team, Levante, being disrespected by Atlético Madrid, naturally had to explode.
They had the determination to fight for survival; what did Atlético Madrid have?
Was their determination to win the championship enough?
Finally, their mentality somewhat shattered. In injury time, defender Giménez's marking was not rigorous, and Levante capitalised on a corner kick to score a last-minute winner.
2-3.
Atlético Madrid's first loss of the new season.
Lance pulled out his phone to check the standings:
Barcelona — 51 points
Real Madrid — 49 points
Atlético Madrid — 49 points
Villarreal — 30 points
...
La Liga is that brutal; the top three teams are playing in the Supercopa, teams 4-7 are playing in La Liga, and those behind are purely points-givers.
In comparison, Atlético Madrid could even lose to bottom-placed Levante.
They didn't want the free points.
Why not take the fruit platter!
"Pfft."
"Lance, what are you laughing at?"
"Nothing."
Griezmann was stunned; how could Lance still laugh in this situation?
He's so carefree!
Actually, Lance just suddenly remembered a meme from a future comedy variety show.
Regarding the content of his prophetic dreams, besides the clear football domain, other fragmented memories occasionally intermingled.
Good news: only 2 points behind Barcelona.
Bad news: those 2 points might be difficult to catch up.
From afternoon until late at night, the review continued.
Simeone analysed the match footage frame by frame, even detailing whether each person should step with their left or right foot during defence/offence.
"Filipe, your defensive habits still haven't adjusted. Your subconscious step forward makes it easy to fall half a step behind your opponent, and that small gap can lead to the opponent breaking into the penalty area!"
Simeone turned to look at everyone:
"Each of you is one of the strongest players in La Liga, even in Europe. But the higher you get, the more you have to fight for these subtle differences! Understand?"
"Concentrate! Be fully immersed in the game!"
"Today's review points are mostly covered. Next match against Celta Vigo, if anyone still makes mistakes..."
The manager's eyes were like torches, sweeping over everyone with the cold gaze of a Terminator T800.
"Regardless of whether we win or lose the match, you'll all go to the reserve team to reflect!"
...
"Why does it feel more nervous than the first tryout?"
"Indeed."
"You were nervous during your first tryout too? I saw you with an unruffled expression, kid."
"I was nervous."
"No wonder, with you, you can't tell at all."
January 10, 2016.
Having just played a Copa del Rey match on the 5th, they were playing a league match less than 5 days later.
Atlético Madrid fielded their full-strength starting lineup.
Lance and his teammates stood in the player tunnel, waiting for inspection before entering the pitch.
Behind him, Saúl and Koke chatted, reminiscing about their first tryouts from youth academy to the first team.
Saúl was quite active in the team; he could talk endlessly even if no one was listening.
Koke was the complete opposite: quiet, humble, straightforward, with no hidden agendas.
He never complained about doing the dirty work in the midfield and defence.
Whenever a conflict broke out during a match, Koke was always the first to rush to the scene to "participate" as a righteous person.
"You two, stop being nervous; you're acting like virgins just encountering the opposite sex for the first time, when in reality you've already played countless times and tried countless positions..."
Griezmann couldn't help but tease them.
"Ahem, let's get ready to go out."
Torres saw Griezmann immediately make a lewd joke and quickly stopped the Frenchman.
Careful, Celta Vigo next door might laugh at them.
"Lance, good luck."
"Mm, good luck, Fernando."
In the half-year since joining Atlético Madrid, Lance and former Atlético Madrid legend Fernando Torres hadn't chatted much.
Compared to the close, brotherly relationship with Griezmann, his relationship with Torres was more like a "gentleman's agreement, light as water."
No need for many words; a glance between them was enough for understanding.
Before today's match, Real Madrid had trounced Deportivo La Coruña 5-0, and Barcelona had trounced Granada 4-0.
The two teams seemed to be competing in a goal-scoring contest.
If Atlético Madrid's goal count was less than three, they wouldn't dare associate with them.
"Let's go! Get hyped!"
"Vamos!!"
Before stepping onto the pitch, the team's core, Lance, uncharacteristically shouted with youthful fervour.
All of Atlético Madrid immediately followed suit!
"Vamos!!!"
The Celta Vigo players next door almost stumbled.
Seriously, big brother, it's just a league match, do you need to be this serious?
Lance's peripheral vision swept over the Celta Vigo players; he clenched his fist.
Sorry, this has nothing to do with you today.
This is an internal struggle belonging to the three giants of La Liga!
Beep—
The moment the match began, everyone on Celta Vigo felt unprecedented pressure.
Several Atlético Madrid players charged forward like they had eaten gunpowder, in a frenzied manner!
"Stop them!!"
"Pass, pass!!"
Reacting a split second too late, the ball at Celta Vigo's feet was already stolen by Lance!
The Cannavaro template perfectly deployed!
"Antoine!"
"Coming!!"
A through ball with the outside of his left foot, Griezmann made a forward run to receive the ball, his body swaying as he controlled it and dribbled past one defender, then passed it back to Lance.
"Saúl!!"
The moment Lance received the ball, he had already anticipated the opponent's movement.
The Bachira Meguru template unleashed its power.
He pulled the ball back with his right foot and turned, feigning a Maradona turn to dribble past, but actually, halfway through the spin, his right heel delivered a sudden, deadly through ball, aimed directly at the right flank!
Monster Pass!
This was the only passing skill in Lance's current templates.
The football cut through Celta Vigo's defence like a hot knife through butter, smooth as silk.
Saúl burst into the penalty area.
Torres made a diagonal run, received Saúl's cross, and calmly slotted it in from close range!
1-0!
Only 11 seconds into the match!
"Hiss—"
"Fuck!"
At Camp Nou and Bernabéu, a low growl simultaneously erupted from the home team changing rooms of both stadiums.
Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo stared at their televisions, feeling the pressure through the screen.
"Is this your true strength, Lance!"