A few minutes later, Barcelona mounted another attack.
This ti, Frenkie de Jong drove forward. The Dutch midfielder's ability to carry the ball through lines was world-class.
After receiving a pass deep in his own half, De Jong glided past Modrić with a sharp turn of pace.
However, the mont De Jong saw Theodore stepping up to confront him, the Dutchman imdiately opted for safety, shifting the ball sideways to Pedri.
Pedri didn't dwell on it. He quickly recycled the ball out to ssi on the right wing.
For this Barcelona side, everything flowed through ssi.
Out on the touchline, ssi controlled the ball, took a quick glance up, and swept a trademark, pinpoint diagonal long pass across the entire width of the pitch.
Bang!
The ball dropped flawlessly into the path of Jordi Alba overlapping on the left flank.
As Alba received the ball, ssi had already drifted from the right wing into his favorite pocket of space at the top of the penalty arc.
Without breaking stride, Alba whipped a low, first-ti cutback directly toward that exact spot. It was the classic, unstoppable Barcelona sequence.
Just as ssi shaped his body to pull the trigger, Theodore materialized out of nowhere.
Reading the play perfectly, Theodore lunged forward, extending his long legs to intercept the cutback a fraction of a second before it reached ssi, toe-poking the ball out for a throw-in.
"A crucial, crucial clearance!" Palr shouted. "If ssi receives that ball there, it is almost certainly a goal!"
"Theodore read that sequence perfectly. Zidane warned them about that exact Alba-ssi connection!"
Barcelona were beginning to build sustained montum.
Following Alba's throw-in, the ball found its way to Sergio Busquets. ssi, closely shadowed by a Madrid midfielder even when walking, did not demand the ball.
Busquets surveyed the options and played the ball out to Philippe Coutinho on the left.
Coutinho, eager to make an impact, didn't assess the situation.
He chopped inside onto his right foot and imdiately unleashed a speculative shot from distance.
Bang!
The ball sailed harmlessly into the upper tiers of the Bernabéu. It was a wasteful, impatient decision that handed possession straight back to Real Madrid.
On the touchline, Ronald Koeman threw his hands up in visible frustration at Coutinho's lack of discipline.
Courtois restarted play with a long goal kick.
Benzema contested the aerial duel with Clént Lenglet, but the French center-back won the header.
However, the second ball dropped favorably for Luka Modrić.
Modrić, operating as the secondary engine of the Madrid midfield, imdiately spotted Vinícius accelerating down the left flank.
Without hesitation, Modrić utilized his signature outside-of-the-boot technique, slicing a beautiful long pass over the top.
Vinícius engaged his raw pace, blowing past Dest to collect the ball. He surged into the Barcelona penalty area.
But Gerard Piqué was waiting.
As Vinícius threw in several rapid stepovers, attempting to cut inside, Piqué read the winger's intentions perfectly.
The veteran defender stuck out a long leg, cleanly poking the ball away.
The loose ball trickled toward the top of the penalty arc.
Theodore and Pedri sprinted toward it simultaneously.
The Spanish press had spent the week hyping up the battle between the two teenage prodigies.
Now, they were locked in a direct physical confrontation for a loose ball.
Theodore arrived a fraction of a second earlier, shielding the ball with his body.
Pedri, desperate to win it back, resorted to pulling Theodore's shirt with his hand while attempting to kick at his heels.
It was completely ineffective.
Theodore rely flexed his core and surged forward, instantly breaking free from Pedri's desperate grabbing as if swatting away a fly.
Glancing up at Ter Stegen's positioning, Theodore heavily dropped his shoulder, shaping to unleash a thunderous strike.
Sergio Busquets, recognizing the imdiate danger, threw himself into a desperate sliding block.
It was a fake.
The mont Busquets committed to the slide, Theodore delicately chopped the ball past the veteran midfielder, breaking cleanly into the Barcelona penalty area.
The Bernabéu erupted.
Tens of thousands of fans scread his na, anticipating the kill!
Inside the box, Piqué and Lenglet abandoned their marks, rushing desperately toward the teenager in a final attempt to close him down.
In a flash of pure aggression, Theodore didn't try to finesse his way around them.
Acting like a heavily armored tank, he lowered his shoulder and drove straight through the microscopic gap between the two center-backs.
Because he was already inside the penalty area, neither Piqué nor Lenglet dared to risk a professional foul, pulling out of the challenge at the last millisecond.
Theodore was through.
Without breaking stride, he pulled his right leg back and unleashed absolute violence.
The ball tore past Ter Stegen like a cannonball, ripping into the roof of the net!
...
Because Theodore Bjorn's shot had been struck at frightening speed, Ter Stegen on the goal line had no ti to react at all.
Just like that, Theodore had etched his na onto the scoresheet of his very first El Clásico.
"TWO-NIL!" Rob Palr's voice bood across the global broadcast.
"Theodore Bjorn has broken through the Barcelona defense entirely on his own! He just bulldozed Piqué and Lenglet!"
"A goal and an assist! Not even a Barcelona side flying high in La Liga can stop the teenager from dictating this match!"
"The Bernabéu has completely erupted! The noise is deafening!"
The mont the goal went in, the live comnt feeds exploded into a frenzy of digital chaos.
@Madridista_X: "HOLY CRAP! THEODORE IS NOT HUMAN!"
@EuroScout: "He literally physically destroyed Piqué and Lenglet. That is terrifying strength for an 18-year-old."
@Barca_Hub: "Our defense is softer than butter. This is embarrassing."
@LaLigaTalk: "Thirty minutes in and Madrid are up by two… Are we about to witness a massacre at the Bernabéu?"
@RealMadrid_Stat: "Where are the Barça fans now? Keep shouting! This is the unstoppable Theodore!"
Inside the stadium, Theodore was engulfed by the emotion of the mont.
He sprinted toward the corner flag, vaulted effortlessly over the electronic advertising boards, and raised both arms toward the roaring Madridistas.
At that exact mont, eighty-five thousand Real Madrid fans chanted his na in terrifying, rhythmic unison.
"THEO! THEO! THEO!"
While the Real Madrid players mobbed the teenager and the stands vibrated with celebration, the cara panned to Barcelona's talisman, Lionel ssi.
ssi stood near the center circle, his face painted with a look of helpless frustration.
He let out a long, heavy sigh, lowered his head, and slowly trudged back toward his own half.
It was painfully clear that the Argentine captain was extrely dissatisfied with his team's passive defending.
On the touchline, Ronald Koeman was equally irate.
The Dutch manager stord to the edge of his technical area, his face flushed, screaming furiously at his players.
"This is El Clásico! Wake up! Fight for the shirt!" Koeman roared, waving his arms aggressively. "We cannot lose this match! Focus!"
Following the restart, ssi tapped the ball back to Sergio Busquets in the center circle and imdiately began drifting out toward his familiar domain on the right flank.
But the mont the ball reached Busquets' feet, Theodore surged forward like a predator.
With one explosive, lunging stride, Theodore closed the distance and decisively went to ground, executing a crisp, perfectly tid sliding tackle.
The veteran Spanish midfielder was cleanly dispossessed.
Luka Modrić scooped up the loose ball and quickly swept it out wide to Vinícius Jr. on the left wing.
Real Madrid transitioned instantly, threatening the Barcelona goal once again.
As a young, highly touted winger, Vinícius naturally harbored a desperate desire to prove himself on the grandest stage of El Clásico. Consequently, every ti he received the ball, his instinct was to attack his fullback relentlessly.
This sequence was no exception.
The instant Barcelona right-back Sergiño Dest rushed out to close him down, Vinícius executed a rapid, silky nutg, gently tapping the ball straight through the Arican's legs with his left foot.
The next second, Vinícius blew past Dest like a black whirlwind, leaving the defender scrambling in his wake.
Having beaten his man on the outside, Vinícius chopped inside decisively onto his stronger right foot, driving toward the penalty area.
By then, Barcelona midfielder Pedri had scrambled across to provide cover.
Seeing the teenager approach, Vinícius remained composed.
He dropped his shoulder, knocked the ball heavily forward, and once again relied entirely on his raw speed advantage to shake off Pedri's pressure.
He was through on the left side of the box.
Bang!
"Vinícius shoots!" Palr called. "But Ter Stegen gathers it safely! That shot did not trouble the German keeper at all!"
"Vinícius was far too impatient there, Rob," Terry Gibson analyzed. "He had his head down the entire ti. If he had just looked up, Luka Modrić was completely unmarked arriving late on the right side of the penalty area."
"It's a recurring the with the young Brazilian," Palr agreed. "From the very start of the match, Vinícius has clearly wanted to shoot at every opportunity. His desire to score is comndable, but unfortunately, his decision-making in the final third remains poor."
"Before Theodore arrived," Gibson added, "Vinícius was widely touted by the Spanish press as Cristiano Ronaldo's heir apparent. There was talk of building the team around him. But since the €720 million man stepped into the building, Vinícius' presence and influence have undeniably declined. He seems to be forcing the issue tonight to reclaim the spotlight."
While the comntators dissected the Brazilian's flaws, Barcelona slowly began to drag themselves back into the contest.
After roughly ten quiet minutes of Madrid dominance, Lionel ssi decided it was ti to intervene.
In the 38th minute, the sequence ironically began as a Real Madrid counterattack.
Theodore successfully bullied Philippe Coutinho off the ball in midfield, instantly releasing a pass out to Vinícius on the left flank.
Unfortunately, even when confronted by a set double-team, Vinícius stubbornly chose to attempt a complex dribble.
Predictably, he was dispossessed by Pedri.
Barcelona transitioned instantly. Pedri looked up and threaded a pinpoint through ball out to ssi on the right wing.
The instant ssi trapped the ball, the Bernabéu crowd responded with a deafening chorus of hostile boos.
However, the jeers only seed to sharpen the Argentine's focus.
Utilizing his signature, srizing changes of rhythm, ssi dropped his shoulder and slipped past both Ferland ndy and Toni Kroos in one breathtaking sequence.
Once again, ssi was driving ominously toward the top of the Real Madrid penalty arc.
It was a terrifyingly familiar sight for Madridistas.
On the touchline, Zidane could no longer maintain his stoic composure.
He abandoned his seat, rushing to the very edge of the technical area, frantically screaming the nas of his defenders to close the space.
But it was too late.
Arriving at the top of the D, ssi opened his body, shaping to unleash his lethal, curling left-footed strike.
The player closest to him at that precise mont was Theodore Bjorn, who was sprinting desperately back to cover.
Seeing that ssi was a fraction of a second away from pulling the trigger, Theodore made a split-second, ruthless decision.
He didn't attempt a clean tackle. He launched his entire body into a flying slide tackle from behind, completely taking out ssi's planted leg.
Peep!
The referee blew his whistle instantly and sprinted toward Theodore at full speed, brandishing a yellow card.
It was a textbook, cynical foul.
Theodore had absolutely no objection to the decision.
He didn't wave his arms or attempt to explain himself to the official.
He simply nodded, turned around, and began walking back toward his own penalty area to defend the resulting free-kick.
But the Barcelona players were not willing to let the foul on their captain go unpunished.
Specifically, Jordi Alba.
As one of ssi's closest friends in the squad, Alba was furious upon seeing the teenager violently hack down the Argentine from behind.
The fiery full-back charged toward Theodore at full sprint.
"Hey, kid! Do you want to die on this pitch?!" Alba scread, getting directly into Theodore's face.
"Have you lost your damn mind?!"
Having delivered his verbal barrage, Alba shoved Theodore hard in the chest with both hands.
But Theodore, standing 190 cm tall with an imnsely powerful core, absorbed the impact effortlessly.
He stood as steady as a mountain, not moving a single inch.
The next second, Theodore's expression hardened. He raised his hands and shoved Alba back with the exact sa motion.
The difference in physical power was comical.
Alba was thrown backward violently, crashing straight to the turf.
Sensing an opportunity to manipulate the referee, the veteran Spanish full-back began rolling dramatically across the grass in quick succession, clutching his chest and contorting his face as if he were in agonizing pain.
It was a highly dangerous situation for Real Madrid.
Theodore had just been booked for the foul on ssi.
If the referee deed the retaliation worthy of a second yellow card, he would be sent off, completely altering the complexion of El Clásico.
Following Alba's theatrical fall, a swarm of angry Barcelona players rapidly converged on Theodore, shouting and pushing him.
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