God Of football

Chapter 1049: Doomsday [2]

Fifteen minutes later, the questions had finally stopped.

Or at least, that was what Izan hoped.

”Izan!”

”Captain, one more!”

”Just one photo!”

Another chorus of voices followed him all the way to the doorway as the heavy doors of the media room swung open.

Camera shutters rattled behind him in one last desperate burst before the sound was swallowed by the corridor outside, leaving only a dull murmur filtering through the walls.

He breathed out through his nose.

”...Finally.”

Walking beside him, Luis de la Fuente couldnʼt help smiling.

”They were determined to keep you in there.”

”They usually are.”

Izan glanced sideways right as his manager grabbed his shoulder, before the two continued down one of AT&T Stadiumʼs wide service corridors.

Above them, the stadium seemed alive.

Even through several metres of concrete, the noise seeped down into the corridors as a constant low rumble.

De la Fuente tucked both hands into his pockets.

”I think weʼve talked enough football for one afternoon.”

Izan smiled.

”I was beginning to think the match had already started.”

”It has.”

The manager looked at him knowingly.

”Just not on the pitch.”

After that, the two simply walked side by side until the Spain dressing room came into view at the end of the corridor.

De la Fuente slowed slightly.

”Come on.”

He gestured toward the door.

”Letʼs get ready for the reason weʼre all here.”

Up above, AT&T Stadium had become a living thing.

Nearly ninety thousand people and still somehow counting had packed themselves into the colossal arena, each section trying to outsing the next until the sound rolled continuously beneath the closed roof.

Then, almost without warning, one corner of the stadium erupted.

Thousands of Portuguese supporters rose together, and with them, their scarves climbed into the air.

Flags unfurled across entire sections before a drum somewhere near the front found its rhythm.

A moment later, another drum joined it, and within seconds the whole end had become one voice.

”Olé... Olé... Cristiano...”

The chant gathered strength every time it circled the stadium.

Children perched on their parentsʼ shoulders sang along despite barely knowing the words.

Phones glowed like tiny stars throughout the stands while banners appeared above the crowd.

ONE LAST DANCE.

OUR CAPTAIN.

FINISH THE STORY.

The emotion behind them was impossible to ignore.

For many wearing red that evening, this wasnʼt simply another World Cup knockout game.

It might well have been the final time they ever watched Cristiano Ronaldo walk out wearing Portugalʼs colours on footballʼs biggest stage of all.

The chant grew louder, then louder again.

Until another roar crashed into it from the opposite side of the stadium.

Spain couldnʼt back down without an answer.

Red and gold scarves shot into the air as the Spanish supporters also rose almost in unison, refusing to surrender the atmosphere for even a moment.

Soon another chant swept around their end.

One that had followed La Roja from city to city throughout the tournament.

Only tonight...

It carried a single name.

”Izan!”

”Izan!”

”Izan!”

The name which, in its roots, wasnʼt even Spanish, echoed around AT&T Stadium before Portuguese whistles attempted to drown it out.

Spanish applause answered immediately, and for a moment, neither side yielded.

The match had yet to begin, but that was something only a blind and deaf person couldnʼt get.

High above the halfway line, Clive Tyldesley settled his headset before looking down over one of footballʼs grandest stages.

”What an extraordinary sight.”

Beside him, Ally McCoist smiled as he took in the sea of colour stretching from one side of the stadium to the other.

”It gives you goosebumps, Clive.”

”It really does,” Tyldesley said while leaning forward slightly.

”You know, there are nights in football that feel important because of whatʼs at stake.”

”There are others that feel important because of whoʼs involved.”

From up in the gantry, he gestured toward the tunnel beneath them, though the viewers on the broadcast wouldnʼt see.

”This somehow manages to have the best of both worlds.”

At that, McCoist nodded.

”Portugal against Spain wouldʼve been enough. But then you add Cristiano Ronaldo.”

”The greatest goalscorer the gameʼs ever seen.”

”And opposite him...” he said with a smile in his voice, ”...an eighteen-year-old whoʼs already on the quest to complete football. A teenager who Cristiano has already looked at as somehow having fragments of himself back in his days at Manchester United!”

Tyldesley looked back toward the tunnel entrance.

”Sometimes the sport writes its own stories. And tonight, it may just have produced one of its finest.”

Deep beneath the stands, both teams waited.

Portugal lined one side of the tunnel while Spain mirrored them on the other side.

The usual pre-match chatter had almost disappeared now, replaced by a sort of focus that had settled over the players moments before kickoff.

Some bounced lightly on their toes to do away with any hidden tension or nervousness.

Others stared straight ahead while a few closed their eyes completely, saying whatever final prayers they had to say.

Izan adjusted the captainʼs armband around his sleeve before flexing his fingers once.

Then he felt a hand settle lightly against his shoulder.

He turned and met Cristiano Ronaldo standing right beside and slightly behind him, with a smile plastered across his face.

”So...”

The Portuguese captain tilted his head slightly.

”Looks like we met earlier than expected.”

At that, Izan laughed.

”I think this is the perfect time.”

Without hesitation, the two stepped toward one another, sharing a brief embrace born not from friendship alone, but from mutual respect.

One had shaped an era, though some would say alongside another almost alien football.

While the other was trying to define the next without any competitor at the moment.

As they stepped apart, Izan spoke first.

”Good luck.”

The words left his mouth before he caught himself.

”...Actually.”

He shook his head with a grin.

”I donʼt think youʼll need it.”

Ronaldo chuckled.

”Youʼve watched me enough.”

”Since I was a kid,” Izan said as Ronaldoʼs smile widened just slightly.

”Then you already know how this goes.”

Before either could answer again, the fourth official stepped between them.