As the halfti whistle blew, both sets of players trudged off the field, aware that the ga was far from over.
Izan had been knocked down but had risen to deliver a goal that was Puskas-worthy.
The second half promised more drama, and everyone—coaches, players, fans, and pundits—knew that the next 45 minutes would be a test of resilience, skill, and heart.
...
The halfti whistle echoed through the stalla, and fans spilt into the concourse, their voices blending into a symphony of excitent and frustration.
Groups of Valencia supporters gathered near snack stalls and walkways, dissecting every mont of the first half.
"Did you see Izan? That touch to beat Koke was pure class!" one fan exclaid, gesturing animatedly as he replayed the scene in his mind.
His friend nodded, still shaking his head in disbelief. "And that shot! Oblak barely got a fingertip to it. I didn’t get to see him play against them at the Wanda tropolitano but this too is fine. Izan is running the show!"
Nearby, an older fan adjusted his scarf, his voice carrying a mix of pride and concern.
"The boy is special, no doubt. But where’s the support? Duro should have finished that move!"
A younger supporter, near the old man, chid in, "Give it ti. With Izan creating like this, the goals will co. You can feel it!"
In another corner, kids mimicked Izan’s feints and passes, their laughter ringing out. "Izan is now and the future!" one of them shouted, drawing cheers from nearby fans.
As the halfti break wound down, optimism surged. The na "Izan" buzzed through the crowd, the fans united in hopes that their young star would deliver in the second half.
While Valencia fans buzzed with optimism, Atlético supporters were more subdued as they gathered in the away section and nearby concourses.
"That kid, Izan—he’s got sothing special," one fan muttered, sipping from a plastic cup. Another nodded grimly. "He’s too good for his age. Our midfield can’t contain him. Sione needs to sort this out."
[Away dressing room]
In the locker room, Diego Sione’s fiery presence filled the air. The players sat on benches, catching their breath, as the coach paced, his voice low but intense.
"Listen up," he began, his eyes scanning the room. "That kid—number 21. Izan. He’s dangerous, and we’re letting him play his ga. He’s making fools of us out there.
The last ti we gave him that much freedom, he scored three goals against us. If we leave him much freedom, it will be detrintal"
The players nodded almost simultaneously while listening to Sione speak. After speaking for a while, Sione stood still but he turned to Koke and Rodrigo de Paul.
"You two need to stay tighter on him. Don’t give him an inch. No more free passes into the final third."
He pointed at Savic and Hermoso. "When he gets near the box, shut him down. No hesitation. Make him uncomfortable, but stay clean. We can’t afford a free kick in that area."
The coach’s voice rose as he concluded. "He’s just turned 16! Show him what experience ans. This isn’t his playground—it’s our battlefield. Let’s end this ga our way!"
The players nodded, determination rekindled. As the second half approached, both sets of fans and teams braced for what promised to be an electrifying continuation.
....
[Valencia Locker room]
At halfti, inside Valencia’s dimly lit dressing room, the dics huddled around Izan. The young star sat on the bench, his face calm but his body betraying the toll of Atlético’s relentless challenges.
His right leg, the target of repeated kicks, was stretched out in front of him as one dic carefully removed his shin guard.
"How does it feel here?" the lead dic asked, pressing gently along his shin and calf. Izan winced slightly but shook his head. "It’s sore, but I can play. It won’t hurt after I run it off" he said softly.
Another dic applied an ice pack to a particularly bruised spot just below his knee.
"You’ve taken so nasty hits, Izan. If it stiffens up or you feel anything sharp, let us know imdiately," she said firmly.
As they wrapped his leg with a compression bandage, Rueb Baraja leaned in. "Are you good to go, kid?" Izan’s answer was imdiate. "Yes, coach. I’m ready."
The dics exchanged glances, then gave a reluctant thumbs-up. Baraja saw their reluctance but still let Izan go into the second half.
After the examination, Izan stood up and went into the bathroom. Locking the door behind, Izan went into his inventory, taking out a conditioning pill, a recovery pill and a new pill that had been unlocked by the system.
"I really hope these energisers are as described since the system won’t lie," Izan said as he popped a blue and red candy into his mouth.
For a while, nothing happened but then, Izan felt a wave of energy rush over him. Not waiting, Izan took the recovery and conditioning fluids together, his sore muscles and bruises, being relieved of their pain.
"Izan, we are leaving for the pitch" a voice ca from behind the washroom door. Izan who fixing his socks ca out of the bathroom before joining the staff who stood been behind the door.
....
The tunnel humd with tension as players from both teams prepared to return for the second half.
The Valencia players erged first, their white and black kits pristine smudged by dirt.
Izan led the way, his youthful face a picture of focus, his leg now tightly bandaged. Teammates clapped him on the back, their belief in the teenager clear.
Hugo Duro leaned over, muttering encouragent into his ear, while Javi Guerra gave him a reassuring nod.
Behind them, Atlético’s players waited, their red-and-white stripes contrasting sharply against Valencia’s colours.
Diego Sione stood at the tunnel’s entrance, his arms folded, barking final instructions to Koke and de Paul.
Savic and Hermoso exchanged knowing glances, silently preparing to renew their physical battle with Izan.
The atmosphere was electric as the players caught glimpses of one another. The intensity of their first-half clashes lingered in the air.
Izan briefly locked eyes with Griezmann, the Frenchman offering a faint smirk, half respect, half warning.
The tunnel gave way to the deafening roar of the stalla. Fans on both sides rose to their feet, chanting and clapping as their heroes stepped onto the pitch. The stage was set for a second half brimming with drama and determination.
...
[Comntator]
"Welco back to the stalla, where it’s all square at 1-1 after an exhilarating first half between Valencia and Atlético Madrid!
The ho side’s teenage sensation, Izan, was at the heart of everything creative for Valencia, drawing plaudits with his dazzling footwork and audacious attempts on goal.
On the other hand, Atlético, ever the masters of resilience, struck with a clinical finish from Antoine Griezmann, only after Valencia scored through a mont of magic orchestrated by—you guessed it—young Izan, his freekick enough to beat Veteran Jan Oblak.
His vision and composure have been nothing short of extraordinary, a constant thorn in Atlético’s defence.
Both sides will be hungry for a winner in this second half. Valencia will look to their young star to continue weaving his magic, while Sione’s n will aim to turn the tide with their experience and physicality.
It’s perfectly poised, folks—youth versus experience, fire versus ice. Who will find that decisive edge in the next 45 minutes? Stay with us as we kick off what promises to be a thrilling second half!"
.....
As the referee’s whistle signalled the start of the second half, Atlético Madrid wasted no ti asserting their dominance.
Their midfield trio sprang into action, exchanging crisp passes to pull Valencia’s defence out of position.
The ball was quickly shifted to the left wing, where a darting run by their fullback stretched the opposing line.
Izan who had also tracked back moved to block the opposing left back but the ball missed him as a low cross zipped into the box, narrowly evading a diving header from their striker, Alvaro Morata.
The move scread precision and intent, but Valencia’s defence, led by their towering centre-back, Cenk Ozkacar held firm and cleared the ball deep into their half.
That clearance, however, was anything but aimless. It found Izan, positioned near the throw line. His first touch was subli, cushioning the ball as two Atlético players converged.
With a sharp turn, he evaded both, his speed and balance leaving them in his wake. A roar erupted from the crowd as he surged forward, eyes scanning the pitch.
"And Valencia are on the counter here. The Atlético n are trying to track back but it’s fruitless."
Diego Sione shouted from the touchline urging his n to get back.
Izan on the other hand, threaded a perfectly weighted through ball to his sprinting teammate down the right flank.
The counterattack now had Atlético scrambling. Their defenders, still recovering from their own offensive foray, struggled to regain shape.
Izan, not content to sit back, continued his run into the box, anticipating the return pass.
The cross ca in low and fast, slicing through Atlético’s defence. Izan t it first-ti with his left foot, a calculated strike aid for the bottom corner.
The goalkeeper, diving full stretch, could only graze the ball.
The Valencia players were ready to mob Izan, but suddenly a foot was stuck out changing the trajectory of the ball.
The culprit was none other than veteran defender, Cesar Azpilicueta who had displayed his quick thinking by going behind Oblak.
The away fans scread in delight but they were not out of the danger zone yet since the ball had gone out for a corner.
A/n: Second of the day. Happy New year. Have fun reading guys and I hope 2025 is a good year for all of us. Love you all and thanks for the support. I’ll co back with a new year’s resolution in the next chapter
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