God Of football - Chapter 151

Chapter 151: First Game of The Year Chapter 151: First Game of The Year After the scrimmage, Baraja could be seen taking a few notes with his coaches.

“Freshen up and head to the canteen,” Baraja said as he walked towards his office.

The players followed his words and went to their locker room before heading to the dining area where the players joke around, sharing a few stories among others.

After dining, the players took their notebooks and pens as they headed towards the Video room.

Izan adjusted the strap of his duffel bag, his cleats clinking softly against each other inside as he walked down the sleek corridor of the training facility.

The atmosphere was calm but charged, a mix of focus and determination after the team’s shaky draw against Villarreal in the first half of the season.

His reflection flickered in the glass walls as he turned the corner and headed for the video room.

Pietro and Mark flanked him, their voices bouncing lightly off the walls.

“You think they’ll press high again?” Pietro asked, his brow furrowed as he absentmindedly twirled his water bottle.

“Maybe,” Izan replied, his voice calm but thoughtful.

“They did it last time to choke our midfield.

If we don’t counter that, it’s going to be another grind.” Mark chuckled, but there was a sharpness to it.

“At least you’ll be fine.

You’ve got that burst of pace.

Me?

I’ll be out there gasping for air by the 60th minute if they keep that up.” The three of them laughed, their camaraderie softening the edges of the looming tactical review.

Then Pietro’s tone shifted.

“You heard about Sosa, right?” Izan raised an eyebrow.

“What about him?” “Sent to the U23s again,” Pietro said, shaking his head.

“That’s like three matches in a row now.” Mark nodded, his expression more serious now.

“He’s talented, no doubt, but he’s too unpredictable.

Coach can’t risk it, especially not with matches like this.” Izan pressed his lips together, thinking about the enigmatic winger.

Sosa’s footwork was poetry in motion, but his tendency to lose focus had cost them in critical moments.

“He’s got to find his balance,” Izan said after a moment.

“If he does, he could be unstoppable.

But until then…” Pietro gestured toward the door to the video room, where the team’s analyst was already setting up clips of Villarreal’s last few matches.

“Come on, genius.

Let’s figure out how to deal with them before we start talking about fixing Sosa.” Izan smirked, stepping through the door.

The room was dimly lit, the glow of the large screen casting shadows over the chairs neatly arranged in rows.

The tactical breakdown was about to begin, and the banter gave way to focus.

…

The air buzzed with energy at Valencia CF’s training complex as players and staff prepared to head to the Mestalla for their crucial La Liga clash against Villarreal.

The sun glinted off the team bus parked near the entrance, its sleek design mirroring the club’s ambition for the season.

Inside the complex, every corner exuded an air of professionalism and focus.

In the locker room, the players,had already begun getting into the matchday spirit.

Head coach Rubén Baraja stood at the centre of it all, his clipboard in hand, delivering a measured pep talk.

His voice carried conviction as he emphasized the significance of teamwork, discipline, and resilience against Villarreal’s dynamic attack.

He would usually do it at the stadium but he decided to do this at the complex so that the players could have time to reflect and think about his words so they could put it to use.

His assistant coach, Moreno buzzed around him, ensuring every player knew their roles and responsibilities.

Baraja’s charisma radiated throughout the room, his connection with the squad evident in their attentive expressions as he laid down the tactics.

After a while, the players began packing, their destination being the Mestalla.

As the players filed onto the bus, the technical staff reviewed game plans one last time.

Video analyst Carlos Marchena exchanged knowing looks with Baraja, their mutual confidence reflecting the countless hours spent studying Villarreal’s tactics.

The team bus, adorned with the club’s crest, rumbled to life, signalling the start of their journey to the Mestalla.

Fans lined the streets outside the training ground, their cheers and chants creating an electric ambience.

Children waved scarves and jerseys, hoping for glimpses of their idols.

The players acknowledged the supporters with waves and smiles, drawing energy from the unwavering passion of the Valencia faithful.

As the bus pulled away, the mood inside was one of steely determination.

Conversations about tactics mingled with personal rituals-headphones on, playlists queued, and minds firmly set on the challenge ahead.

The Mestalla awaited, its stands ready to roar as Valencia prepared to defend their fortress against Villarreal.

……

The players were met by a deafening roar as they stepped onto their home grounds.

Spirits were high; Christmas had just ended, the new year had begun, and Valencia sat 4th on the table.

The fans would expect nothing but the best from them and the best being a possible win against one of the best sides in Laliga.

“Yo, Izan, why don’t you put on a little trick for the fans, you know, to raise morale”, Gaya said as he passed by.

It had been a while since he saw Izan’s warm-up ritual and he was trying to use the fans as an excuse to make Izan do it.

“Sometimes, I think all you guys see when you look at me is a circus trickster,” Izan said as he reluctantly walked towards the ball.

Marmadashvili who saw him approaching, feigned a stomachache, crouching while holding his belly.

This drew one of the medics causing him to rush towards Marmadashvili.

“Yess!

Yes, Play along.

I’m not sick, it’s just that I don’t want to face that guy’s shot,” Marmadashvili said, slightly embarrassed, while nodding in Izan’s direction.

The medics couldn’t believe what he was hearing but he didn’t oust Marmadashvili.

Jaume Doménech filled the empty goal Marmadashvili left behind but the shots that were fired his way made him falter.

“I said a trick, not to torture the goalkeepers.

Because of you, Giorgi is pretending to have a stomach ache”.

Izan didn’t say anything and just shrugged.

“You said a trick, I’m doing just that”.

As the players continued with their warm-ups, fitness coach Javier Miñano monitored warm-ups closely, ensuring each player was physically primed for the battle ahead.

The medical team, led by Dr.

Luis Navarro also conducted last-minute checks to confirm everyone was match-ready.

Bottles of isotonic drinks and energy gels were distributed, while the equipment staff meticulously prepared kits, boots, and accessories, leaving no detail to chance.

After wearing their kits, all the players of Valencia sat down silently in the dressing room.

The tension was palpable.

This match wasn’t just any match.

It was to serve as a statement.

They wanted to open the new year with a bang.

And what better way to do it than win your first match?

After a while, an official came to Valencia’s dressing room entrance asking them to get ready.

All the players huddled together, listening to a few words from Gaya.

“When we win today, and I say when!

You’ll feel how I’m feeling and you’ll know what I mean when I say I believe in this team.

And also because the coach believes in Izan,” he said, loosening up the atmosphere.

“Play with caution but not too much.

Be creative.

Okay boys, come on.

We have a story to tell through the match.

Vamos Valencia!!” After Gaya’s speech, the players came out, meeting the Villarreal starters in the tunnel.

The players stood side-by-side waiting and were soon led out by the match officials.

As the players stepped onto the pitch, the roar of the crowd rose a notch.

The anticipation that had built up was not for the faint-hearted.

The fans began chanting, some even treating the match as they would have done a cup final.

“I’m glad we didn’t play Barcelona or Real Madrid at home, or something worse might have happened,”, Izan thought as they walked to the front.

….

Commentator (excitedly): “Welcome to the historic Mestalla Stadium, where tonight Valencia CF hosts Villarreal in what promises to be an electrifying clash!

Los Ches will be looking forward to grabbing all 3 points but Villarreal isn’t here to make it easy.

The Yellow Submarine boasts plenty of firepower, and they’ll want to spoil the party.

Valencia’s young stars will have a lot to do today as Baraja has fielded a relatively younger squad than normal for today.

A direct contradiction to the opponent, Villarreal have opted for a more practical approach mixing youth with experience.

Buckle up, folks-this is going to be a match to remember!” While the commentator ranted, the players lined up in front of the crowd, smoothly undergoing all the pre-match pleasantries.

A few moments later, the players stood ready to go.

Glancing at his watch, the match official waited for a bit before finally sounding his whistle.

Fweeeeeeeeee The referee’s whistle blew, bringing the game to life.

A/n: First chapter of the day.

CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Art233 Your gift is the motivation for my creation.

Give me more motivation!

Give it to meeee3eeeeeee!!!

*cough* palease!