"Don't you have the word 'respect' in your vocabulary? You're mocking the strongest European team of the past three seasons—a team that's won three La Liga titles and two Champions League trophies!"
"You're getting cocky just because of a half-season lead? That's typical Madrid arrogance. There are still fourteen rounds left—you better pray Real Madrid doesn't fall apart!"
"Even if you reach the Champions League semifinals, that's the end of the line. We'll crush you again, face to face!"
"Both teams drew, but we drew against Atlético Madrid. You drew against Racing Santander. Embarrassing!"
Barça fans, thoroughly enraged by Leon's tweet, began flooding his post with insults.
But Madridistas weren't ones to just stand by. They launched a full-on counterattack, helping Leon "clean up" the comnt section.
The next morning, Leon glanced through the ss under his tweet and could only sigh.
When he had tweeted "Don't panic," it was ant to calm his own team's supporters. He hadn't intended to provoke Barcelona.
His real ssage was that Madrid's lead in the standings was wide enough to allow for the occasional draw or even a loss—it wasn't the end of the world.
Take a deep breath, review the match, refocus, and move forward.
But a bunch of Barça extremists had imdiately stord his replies, mocking and insulting him.
So honestly, was his follow-up tweet—"Don't panic, Barça will deliver"—really that excessive?
It was a natural clapback. He was a footballer, not so celebrity making a living off popularity.
If soone cos at him for no reason, of course he has the right to respond.
What he didn't expect was how unhinged the Barça fans' response would be.
It quickly beca clear: trying to reason with a mob of internet trolls was pointless.
So, fine—he'd stop pretending. If it's fire they want, then fire they'll get. Trading magical blasts? He was more than experienced in that ga.
"Yes, Barça has been the strongest team in Europe these past three years. Watching them win two Champions League titles with my own eyes—I was so jealous!
After all, we at Real Madrid are just a small club with a asly nine Champions League titles. How could we compare?"
"I really should respect Barça more. So this season, let's beat them twice in La Liga—nothing says 'respect' like a double victory, right?"
"Will Madrid choke later? I don't know. But Barça sure seems likely to keep dropping points. Six draws, two losses—does that look like a title contender to you? Oh, wait—now it's seven draws."
"Why can't the winning side celebrate? What, we win the head-to-head and lead the table, and we're supposed to cry about it? Sorry, can't do that."
That barrage of cutting replies from Leon imdiately lit up the internet.
Madridistas were ecstatic reading Leon's ruthless takedown—every word hit right where it hurt.
Inside Real Madrid's internal players' group chat, things were even more electric:
Arbeloa – "Damn! Little Lion, that was beautiful! We should be proud when we win! Why can't we be? Have those Barça fans forgotten what Piqué pulled last season?"
Pepe – "Haha, Little Lion living up to the scholar nickna. Those Barça fans are fuming. Sharp tongue, sharp mind!"
Cristiano Ronaldo – "That was cool. Next ti, tag ."
Marcelo – "I've saved every one of your replies. If any Barça fan ever brags to again about their Champions Leagues, I'm just gonna hit 'copy-paste,' ha!"
Casillas – "You're right to respond, but maybe soften the tone a little next ti."
Ramos – "See you tomorrow, brother. You're getting a big hug. Well done!"
Varane – "Shouldn't we maybe let the boss know about this?"
Leon had been grinning as he read the earlier comnts, but at Varane's sensible remark, he smacked his forehead.
Yeah, this was sothing he probably should run by Mourinho. Especially since the club would be holding a pre-match press conference soon—reporters were bound to bring it up.
The club's PR team might even step in with a strategy.
With that in mind, Leon called Mourinho directly.
As soon as the call connected, Mourinho cracked a joke.
"What, you enjoyed the drama and now you're panicking?"
"Uh, not really panicking—I just figured I should let you know what happened."
"It's fine. You were smart—you didn't call out any fans by na or insult Barça players. They can't really blow this up."
"Good. That's a relief."
"Jorge will probably call you soon. Get ready."
"Huh?"
Before Leon could react, the Special One had already hung up.
And sure enough, five or six minutes later, Jorge ndes called.
"Background story? Sure, here's what happened—"
Leon explained the full situation and his reasoning.
ndes listened carefully, then simply told him to avoid discussing the issue with the dia in the near future.
And that was it.
Leon looked down at his phone, once again hung up on first, and figured ndes would handle things with the club's PR team. With nothing more to worry about, he drove off to the training base for extra work.
It was at tis like this that having a reliable agent really paid off.
As long as the player hadn't done anything outrageous, they didn't have to worry about their reputation getting twisted by the dia.
Later that afternoon, as Leon wrapped up his solo training session and got ready to drive ho, he noticed the narrative online had already begun shifting in his favor.
Pro-Madrid outlets were emphasizing that Leon's tweets were a defense of Real Madrid's dignity.
And newspapers with ties to ndes praised him for standing up for the fans—while also pointing out repeatedly that it was Barça's supporters who started the whole thing.
After back-to-back verbal strikes from both Leon and Real Madrid supporters, the pro-Barcelona dia could only weakly cling to accusations that Leon had "disrespected" Barça.
But honestly—why should a player raised in Real Madrid's academy, now a first-team mainstay, go out of his way to show respect to Barcelona?
So that he could get roasted by his own fanbase?
Or maybe he was thinking about jumping ship to Barça later?
Leon wanted no part of either scenario. The examples of Luis Enrique and Luís Figo were there for all to see—both of whom, even after retirent, couldn't escape being dragged through the mud by fans and dia for their transfers.
So at this point, Leon had no interest in responding to the pro-Barça press.
Let them call him a Madridista, or an anti-Barça fundantalist—it didn't matter.
As long as he never joined Barça, their fans' perception of him—positive or negative—had no impact on his actual interests.
He knew exactly where his base was and how to protect and grow it.
With the storm fading, Leon's popularity among Real Madrid supporters only continued to soar.
What he hadn't expected was the sudden wave of neutral fans who had followed his social dia accounts after the online drama.
"Do they really just like players who talk trash with sharp tongues?"
Leon couldn't help but laugh to himself.
If that was the case, these new fans might regret their decision before long.
Just like on the pitch, Leon wasn't dirty by nature—but when he got dirty, even soone like "pretty boy" Diego Costa couldn't take it.
His sharp tongue usually stayed tucked away—he liked to think of himself as a calm and elegant pro.
Throwing a sarcastic jab now and then? Sure.
But being a daily troll? Nah, that wasn't him.
True to his usual Zen-like attitude toward fan interactions, Leon didn't spend much energy thinking about his sudden follower count spike.
Instead, he took advantage of the rare rest week following the previous La Liga match to grind out progress on his long passing stat.
For so reason, he felt that improving long passes was much harder than when he had trained short passes or ball control.
Take the sa starting value of 70, for example—getting short passing or ball control up to 80 had been noticeably faster.
He'd started focusing on long passes during the preseason before this current campaign. And now, after half a season of effort, he had only managed to go from 72 to 79.
Way slower than his progress with short passing.
But Leon wasn't in a rush. Recently, he felt like he was right on the edge of a breakthrough.
Once he crossed this barrier, he believed his long pass stat would finally hit 80—and from there, he'd enter a golden period of growth again.
It was all part of the system he'd co to understand through experience.
"Maybe in the next ga… or the one after that… I'll get the opportunity to break through on the field. Training is important, but I need to test it more in live matches."
After a March 3rd afternoon training session, Leon reflected on the extra work he'd done with Xabi Alonso and felt a strange sense of anticipation.
Maybe, if he kept seeking those long pass opportunities in gas, he'd finally push through that 80-point ceiling.
Off to the side, Xabi Alonso watched him in thoughtful silence, a warm smile on his face.
He could see how much Leon had improved across multiple technical areas lately.
But of course, long passing—Leon's biggest current shortcoming—was what Alonso paid the most attention to.
Xabi couldn't see Leon's nurical attributes, but he could feel the increasing finesse in his long balls.
If before, Leon had rely been imitating Alonso's style—driving low, flat passes that lacked precision—now he was refining them.
Now, Leon's passes weren't just fast and flat; they were becoming accurate.
It was the most fitting description of Leon's progress so far.
Once he fully mastered the proper striking technique—knowing exactly when to hit a driven ball and when to loft a bounce pass, and consistently doing so without major error—Leon would be ready to graduate.
From there, all that remained was to keep sharpening his skills through ga-ti experience.
In terms of physical gifts, Xabi had always believed Leon was far superior.
Maybe their strength and stamina were on par, but Leon was faster, more agile, more balanced, and had a better vertical leap.
Thinking about that, Alonso gave Leon a satisfied pat on the back.
"Play your heart out in the next match. If you get the chance, go for it—don't hold back. That applies to every match from now on. If you don't use what you've learned, how will it ever beco truly yours?"
Leon snapped out of his thoughts, t Alonso's eyes, and gave a firm nod with a smile.
On the night of March 4th, Real Madrid hosted Espanyol for Matchday 26 of La Liga.
It was destined to be an entertaining match.
Espanyol, sitting 10th in the table, had no relegation worries. And their young coach, Mauricio Pochettino, was a known advocate of attacking football.
With those two conditions in place—and considering the historically friendly relations between the two clubs—Mourinho decided to go for a head-to-head attacking ga.
Both teams lined up in a 4-3-3. The match drew huge attention both in Spain and abroad.
For Madrid, Cristiano Ronaldo, Higuaín, and Callejón ford the front three.
In midfield, Alonso sat deepest, with Leon and Di María flanking him.
On the backline, Nacho once again filled in for the injured Arbeloa, while the rest of the starters remained the sa.
Had Marcelo replaced Coentrão, the attacking potential of the formation would've been maxed out.
But Mourinho opted to play it safe.
With Di María supporting Ronaldo from the left central midfield role, Madrid's left wing wouldn't lack firepower.
Having Coentrão anchoring that flank gave him more peace of mind defensively.
Espanyol's forwards weren't especially dangerous, but still—why take unnecessary risks?
Before kickoff, Leon glanced over at a young and inexperienced Coutinho not far from him and couldn't help but smile.
Coutinho, who happened to be sneaking a glance at Leon at that mont, imdiately tensed up when he saw that smile.
So dia outlet had once falsely claid that Leon liked to smile at the players Mourinho assigned him to "lock down" before the match. And the story had spread.
Now, not yet twenty and still sporting a head of fluffy, dium-length curls, Coutinho looked like a kid just trying to stay calm.
Judging by his expression, he'd probably bought into those rumors.
So when Espanyol made their first attacking move, and midfielder Romaric passed the ball out wide to Coutinho, the young Brazilian was clearly nervous.
He was playing as a left winger today, while Leon was starting on the right side of midfield—a direct matchup.
Leon noticed the hesitation in Coutinho's eyes and found it a bit amusing.
"Do I really look that scary?" he muttered under his breath, but his feet didn't slow for even a second.
As he had done with so many of the post-90s generation before, Leon delivered a lesson in discipline on their first direct encounter.
First, he blocked Coutinho's path along the sideline, cutting off any chance of a straight-line burst. Then he pressed in physically, closing the space with a shoulder challenge.
With just two textbook defensive moves, Leon imdiately overwheld the fluffy-haired youngster with pressure.
Coutinho tried to turn and shield the ball, looking to pass it backward—but Leon didn't give him the chance.
With a well-tid poke between Coutinho's legs, Leon knocked the ball free and then used his body to block the Brazilian out completely.
Winning the ball cleanly, he took two strides and boldly unleashed the ga's first diagonal long pass!
"Leon with a quick long ball! Higuaín drops back outside the box to nod it down!"
He Wei hadn't expected Leon to create such a dangerous attacking sequence so early in the match.
The mont Higuaín nodded the ball on, He Wei was already halfway out of his seat, ready to shout in celebration if Ronaldo burst into the box and scored.
Unfortunately, Espanyol center-back Rodríguez read the play and cleared the ball just in ti.
Ronaldo looked frustrated at missing the chance, but after that mont passed, he gave both Higuaín and Leon a thumbs-up in appreciation.
On the sideline, Mourinho raised an eyebrow as he watched Leon already dropping back into position.
"Leon's really fired up today. That long ball wasn't bad at all."
"He's rarely this aggressive early on—maybe let him try more today?" Karanka suggested beside him.
Mourinho nodded without hesitation.
"Let's get a goal first. Once we've got the lead, let him have more freedom to experint."
The decision was made, but Mourinho hadn't expected that first goal to co so quickly.
After both sides exchanged a few probing attacks, it was only the seventh minute when Di María cut through Espanyol's midfield with a brilliant central run.
After beating two defenders, and with more closing in, the Angel of Madrid slipped the ball horizontally to a supporting Leon.
Leon didn't hesitate—he instantly played a vertical through ball into the right side of the penalty area, where Callejón was making a diagonal run.
Callejón took two touches into the box, looked up, and fired a low cross through the area!
The ball sliced through the penalty box like a razor blade from right to left.
Higuaín couldn't reach it, but Cristiano Ronaldo ca crashing in at the back post—and essentially just blocked the ball into the net past goalkeeper Casilla!
The Bernabéu roared with delight at yet another opening goal from Ronaldo, and after exchanging a look, Mourinho and Karanka smiled and signaled for Leon to be given more tactical freedom.
With encouragent from both Alonso and the coaching staff, Leon didn't hold back. He fully took over long passing responsibilities in midfield.
Of course, compared to Xabi Alonso, Leon's long balls still lacked polish.
But they were accurate enough—not so wild that they beca hard to receive.
He had good vision, and his timing was spot-on. The forwards just needed to run into space, and Leon's passes would find them.
In the 21st minute of the first half, after one attack stalled, Callejón passed it back. Di María transitioned the play with a lateral pass to Leon.
At the exact mont when Espanyol's holding midfielders—Forlín and Romaric—instinctively pushed forward to press, Leon touched the ball sideways, repositioned himself, and then—boom!
He drove a diagonal long pass with his left foot.
Upfield, deep in Espanyol's half, Cristiano Ronaldo had already begun his sprint a step early!
In that fleeting mont of judgnt, the linesman kept his flag down—no offside.
Midway through the run, Ronaldo expertly brought the ball down and kept it in front of him.
He gave Casilla no ti to prepare.
With a quick, compact swing of his left leg, Ronaldo unleashed a thunderous strike—sending the ball rocketing toward the upper far corner!
Casilla reacted fast, his dive perfectly tid… but it wasn't enough.
The crisp swish of the ball hitting the net echoed across the Bernabéu as the ho crowd exploded again in celebration!
And right then, Leon heard the notification he had been waiting for—the one that made him smile wide with satisfaction.
He had finally broken through the long pass threshold—closing one of the last major gaps in his skill set.
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