Tuesday, May 4th. 7:45 PM The Home Dressing Room, The Hawthorns.
UEFA Champions League semi-final, second leg.
West Bromwich Albion vs. Real Madrid.
(Aggregate: 1-1)
The Santiago Bernabéu achieves an intimidating effect by means of its great vertical extent and its aristocratic history, while the Hawthorns intimidates simply because of the suffocating closeness.
The stands in West Bromwich are almost directly above the touchlines and the fans don't eat prawn sandwiches nor do they clap in a polite manner; instead they scream, swear and insist upon a complete and firm physical commitment. For a team consisting of global superstars used to enjoying space and respect, life in the Black Country on a Tuesday night is a suffocating nightmare.
Ethan Matthews was sitting in his locker when the roar of the twenty-six thousand home fans had already begun to vibrate through the concrete floor of the dressing room. The air was thick with tension and they were ninety minutes away from having two Champions League finals in a row.
He took out his phone.
Group Chat: The Eastfield Boys
Callum: Eth, I've treated their midfield rotation just as a closed-loop control system. There's a clear and measurable lag in their defensive transition. If you act as the sudden disturbance and immediately apply vertical pressure at the very moment that Keller wins the ball, their formation won't have time to get back to equilibrium and you'll skip right past their whole first phase of recovery.
Mason: Leave equilibrium behind, Wonderkid. Just charge straight for the advertising boards. I want to see their million-pound midfield player crying to the referee by the tenth minute. This is the Black Country.
Mia: The pub is actually shaking! Our singing is so loud! Take us back to the final, Eth!
Ehtan: I'll be the disturbance, Cal; they don't get a moment's breathing space. As for Mase, the concrete is waiting for them too. We'll meet at full time.
Ethan locked his phone. It was excellent the way that Callum had developed into a tactical analyst; by comparing a football midfield to an engineering control system Ethan was able to achieve the kind of calm, logical analysis necessary to remove the emotional element from playing Real Madrid.
Julian Vance went into the middle of the dressing room in a tailored navy suit which appeared almost black under the intense fluorescent lights.
"They outlived us in Spain," Vance said, speaking in a low, rough baritone voice that at once took control of the room. "They believe the worst is behind them and that they can come to our home, pass the ball around us, and recover their crown."
Vance looked directly at Liam Thorne, then at Lukas Keller, and lastly at Ethan.
Make it clear that the Bernabéu was only a warning; it's a slaughterhouse. If they attempt to establish their rhythm, disrupt it; when they're searching for space, squeeze them. Don't let them leave the pitch with their pride.
8:00 PM. Kickoff.
To step out into The Hawthorns was like stepping into a jet engine—the noise was total and amounted to a wall of working-class defiance.
From the very first whistle the referee blew, West Brom put Vance's game plan into action with terrifying physical intensity.
11th Minute.
The elegant central midfielder of Real Madrid, a man who had won all the major prizes in the sport, picked up the ball close to the centre circle and then, with a smooth and silky touch, looked up to deliver a cross-field pass.
He never had the opportunity.
Lukas Keller came on like a freight train, making a violent and precisely timed tackle which secured the ball and knocked the Madrid legend to the ground.
The crowd shouted, but Ethan had already started moving.
Function as the disturbing variable.
Ethan didn't wait for the Madrid system to reach a state of equilibrium; at the very moment the ball went loose, he launched himself into the vertical direction, grabbed the ball while completely skipping past the disorganized Madrid midfield, and rushed directly towards their terrified centre-backs.
He had no need to dribble past them; instead, he made a perfectly accurate, razor-sharp slide-rule pass between them.
Armando made his swift run, lost his marker in the process, and then placed a calm and businesslike goal past the hurried Madrid goalkeeper.
GOAL.
The score was West Bromwich Albion 1–0 Real Madrid.
(Aggregate: 2-1)
The Hawthorns blew up, and Ethan ran to the corner flag, jumping onto Armando's back as the stadium shook all around them. The control system had been broken.
38th Minute.
Real Madrid, suffering a serious blow, started to mount a response. The outstanding quality of their squad, worth one billion pounds, gradually became evident amid the difficulties.
They started to put pressure on the wings, making use of the devastating speed of their Brazilian winger to pull the West Brom defence apart.
44th Minute.
The aristocrats had their moment of magic.
The Brazilian winger picked up the ball on the left touchline and was immediately surrounded by both the West Brom right-back and Lukas Keller.
He didn't panic; instead, he carried out a rapidly fast series of step-overs, dropped his shoulder and, somehow, managed to move between the two defenders with a sudden and terrifying burst of acceleration.
He drove towards the byline, hitting a harsh, low ball back to the penalty spot.
The famous striker from Madrid did not touch the ball; instead he scored a wonderful first-time goal in the top right corner, leaving the West Brom goalkeeper unable to move.
GOAL.
The score was West Bromwich Albion 1–1 Real Madrid.
(Aggregate: 2-2)
At the other end, people in white shirts became excited. The two-goal total was levelled and since the away goals rule was in effect, the tie was by a mere margin.
Halftime.
The score was West Bromwich Albion 1–1 Real Madrid.
(Aggregate: 2-2)
There was a strong feeling of exhaustion in the dressing room. The physical cost of chasing Madrid's shadows was enormous.
"On the wings they are extremely dangerous," Vance said to the squad as he wiped the tactical board clean, "but they are pumping out a huge amount of energy in order to achieve this. Ethan, they are attempting to go around you altogether. In the second half, don't let them do it. Ask for the ball and take control of the centre. Force them to run until their legs turn to lead."
The Second Half.
65th Minute.
The game turned into a terribly painful and intensely suspenseful struggle wearing down each side.
Real Madrid were pushing all their efforts forward in the hope of scoring the decisive goal, but the defenders from the Black Country remained firm. Liam Thorne was a true titan, always getting away from cross after cross. Lukas Keller was a machine, charging into each tackle with his body.
Ethan then took complete control of the tempo.
Each time West Brom won the ball, Ethan never rushed the counter-attack; instead he took possession and thus brought the frantic pace of the game to a standstill. In the midfield he played slow and careful triangular passes, on purpose removing the kinetic energy from Madrid's pressing and employing a ruthless strategy based on thermodynamic exhaustion.
81st Minute.
The players in Madrid were worn out; their stylish midfielders were moving slowly, completely exhausted from Ethan's relentless and painful game of keep-away.
The fatal crack showed itself at last.
The Madrid midfielder, wanting very much to regain the ball, charged forward late when he was in the centre circle facing Ethan.
Ethan deflected the ball by a microsecond before it reached him, took the blow and fell heavily to the ground. The referee then called it a foul.
Ethan rose to his feet at once. Madrid were arguing with the referee, their backs turned and their entire system out of balance.
Ethan didn't wait; he placed the ball on the grass, looked up and there was Jaden Kalu carrying out a ridiculously fast and entirely unmarked run down the right wing.
Ethan struck a flawless and rapid free-kick, brushing over the disordered Madrid defence with a lovely and well-weighted pass.
Kalu carried out the shot nicely as he charged into the penalty area, and the goalkeeper from Madrid came out.
Kalu chose not to take the shot; instead he played it fairly across the six-yard box.
Tyler Hayes, having sprinted sixty yards from the opposite flank, reached the back post and hit it into the empty net.
GOAL.
The score was West Bromwich Albion 2 to Real Madrid 1.
(Aggregate: 3-2)
The noise coming from The Hawthorns was no longer human; it was a fierce and blaring roar which physically vibrated the concrete stands.
Ethan was in the centre circle with both arms stretched out towards the sky while the whole of the West Brom bench rushed onto the touchline in a state of complete hysteria. The Dictator had pulled every string just right.
90+5 Minutes.
Real Madrid lost all control of the situation and kept sending weak and hurried long passes towards the goal at the West Brom end, but Thorne and Keller blocked each and every one of them.
Ethan dove deep and managed the last and most important interception at the edge of his own penalty area before kicking the ball high into the cold night sky of the Midlands.
Whistle. Whistle. Whistle.
Full Time.
The score was West Bromwich Albion 2 to Real Madrid 1.
West Bromwich Albion reach the final of the UEFA Champions League.
The fans rushed onto the pitch at once. Thousands of excited, crying supporters poured over the grass and totally overwhelmed the stewards.
Ethan was immediately surrounded by a vast amount of navy and white. He could feel hands tugging at his shirt, slapping his back and chanting his name. He was the boy from Eastfield who had for the second year in a row defeated the Kings of Europe.
12:30 AM. Penthouse Apartment, Birmingham.
Ethan dropped his kit bag next to the door and was completely physically and emotionally drained. The silence in the apartment came as a shock following the absolute madness at The Hawthorns.
He took out his phone.
Group Chat: The Eastfield Boys
Mason: BACK-TO-BACK FINALS! You've completely demolished them, General! They were crying on the pitch when it was all over! The pub has now run out of beer and there's someone who is dancing on the bar.
Callum: That quick free-kick was the perfect way of taking advantage of the disturbance to their equilibrium, Eth. You saw their systemic lag and dealt with it with absolute mathematical precision. That was a flawless application of control theory to a football match.
Mia: We're all very proud of you, Eth! WEMBLEY IS CALLING! Now go and get some sleep, you hero!
Ethan: The control system let them down, Cal, as you said. Mase, let the pub know that I'll pay for the next drink when I get back to Eastfield. We're heading for the final, lads.
Ethan locked his phone and then sank back into the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. The aristocrats from Madrid had been forced to leave. The concrete of the Black Country had remained strong.
The Final of the UEFA Champions League was waiting and the Dictator was ready to defend his title.