The pre-match press conference at the stalla was a brief, professional affair. Miroslav Djukic, Valencia's Serbian manager, took his seat without ceremony and answered questions in the asured, economical manner of a man who preferred to do his work on the pitch.
"You have faced Barcelona twice as a player and once as a coach," a reporter from Diario AS noted. "How do you approach stopping the LMN trio?"
Djukic shrugged, his gaze calm. "You don't stop them. You manage them. You reduce the damage and you take your monts. Lorenzo is the tectonic plate shifting this league right now, we have studied him for a week. We think we have found a way to limit his influence. This is the stalla. History has been made here against teams more decorated than any that will arrive today."
Across the hall, Martino's response was equally asured. "Valencia are one of the great clubs in Spanish football. They have quality throughout the squad and a ho crowd that makes the stalla one of the most difficult grounds in the league. We respect that. We co to play our ga."
The stalla.
Capable of holding fifty-five thousand souls, the stadium was a vertical nightmare, its stands built with a steep, exaggerated incline that made every fan feel as though they were leaning directly over the pitch. Above the main stand, a giant Bat banner unfurled, its dark wings casting a shadow across the turf. The noise, when it ca, ca from directly above your head rather than from the sides, a pressure rather than a sound.
On the pitch, the "Cant de la afició" thundered through the stands as the two teams erged. Lorenzo stepped onto the grass and felt the full weight of the stalla's hostility for the first ti, fifty-five thousand people, all of them opposed, all of them very close.
"Did you see Parejo?" Iniesta whispered, nodding toward the Valencia captain. "He hasn't looked away from you since we stepped out. He's going to be the shadow on your skin today."
"And Oriol Rou," Busquets added. "He was my designated successor at La Masia before he left for Chelsea. He's been trained to play my ga. He'll try to read your runs before you make them."
Lorenzo adjusted his jersey and said nothing. He was watching Jonas and Feghouli go through their final stretches in the Valencia half. He was watching the way Piatti moved - short, rapid, low to the ground, a different kind of threat from anything he had faced in the previous three matches.
High in the ESPN Sur broadcast booth, Santiago and Inés Valdes adjusted their headsets as the cara panned across the dizzying incline of the stands.
"Welco to the 'Hell for Acrophobics'!" Santiago roared. "The stalla! Matchday 4 of La Liga. Valencia - 'The Bats', against the reigning kings of Catalonia. And a word of warning to anyone who thought the Bats would lie down after the Espanyol result: this is a side with Banega, Parejo, Jonas, and a ho crowd that has swallowed better teams than this!"
Inés checked the lineups. "Martino is rotating today. Puyol and Xavi are on the bench. Sergi Roberto takes a midfield role, while Mascherano anchors the defence. But the front three - Lorenzo, ssi, and Neymar, remain untouched. They are the fixed points of this Barcelona universe."
Valencia (4-2-3-1):
Guaita (GK);
Pereira, Rami, Mathieu, Bernat;
Rou, Parejo;
Cartabia, Feghouli, Piatti;
Jonas.
FC Barcelona (4-3-3):
Valdés (GK);
Alba, Mascherano, Piqué, Alves;
Iniesta, Sergi Roberto, Busquets;
ssi, Lorenzo, Neymar.
"Look at the matchup developing in the middle," Inés noted. "Rou against the Barcelona press. He was trained at La Masia, he knows exactly how Busquets operates, how the press triggers, how the vertical lanes open. Djukic has placed him there specifically to disrupt the supply chain to Lorenzo."
She paused. "And on the other side: Lorenzo versus Pablo Piatti. Two Argentines, two very different profiles. Piatti was the hero of the 2007 U-20 World Cup alongside Agüero. Today, he faces the boy who has effectively taken over that conversation entirely."
[Ding! Detected Host participating in a La Liga Key Battle!]
[Side Quest Activated: Conquer the Devil's Ho Ground!]
[Objective 1: Secure a victory with a 2 goal margin. Reward: Attribute Breakthrough Potion.]
[Objective 2: Score and provide at least one assist. Reward: Valencia 'Legendary' Star Chest.]
Fweet-!
The match began with a controlled, purposeful intensity from the ho side. Jonas tapped the ball to Piatti, who imdiately drove past the halfway line - 1.63m, low centre of gravity, a different kind of acceleration from the tall, physical challenges Lorenzo had faced in the previous weeks. The stalla responded, a wall of sound from directly above.
Rou was already tracking Lorenzo before the ball had moved ten tres. Disciplined, tight, reading the angles, a midfielder who had grown up watching these patterns from inside the sa system that had produced them.
Lorenzo felt the opposition differently here. Espanyol had tried to stop him. Real Madrid had tried to overwhelm him. The stalla was doing sothing more intelligent, it was trying to make the pitch smaller, to reduce the space before he could use it.
"Lorenzo and Piatti," Santiago mused in the booth. "The past and the present of the Albiceleste. Can the Bats defend their dignity? Or does the Sovereign continue his march toward the Golden Boot?"
Lorenzo crouched low at the halfway line, his eyes on Parejo. The Valencia captain had not stopped watching him since the tunnel. That was fine. Let him watch.
The hunt at the stalla was officially open.
[Status: Kickoff. 0-0. La Liga Matchday 4 - stalla.]
[Side Mission: Objectives: 2 goal margin goal and assist.]
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