𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄, pedri gonzález

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚, olive/pedri

❝ did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room? ❞
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Olive

I did bench Pedri. For nine minutes at first before subbing him in. I told Xavi to choose another player instead of Pedri, I don't know why he thought starting Romeu would be a good idea.

The guy's a back up option. No offense. He loses position too easily and doesn't offer much going forward.

While he has good defensive skills, his limitations in terms of creativity and offensive contribution are apparent.

Starting him over a player like Pedri, who excels in dictating play and creating chances, seemed like a questionable decision.

I let Pedri cry for a good nine minutes at first — making me cry too watching the horror that was going on without him — but I do have to put winning the game before annoying Pedri as a first priority.

He smirked and blew me a kiss when I motioned for him to get moving since he's going in. Making me almost sit him down again.

Good thing I didn't because he then provided a crazy assist to Lamine who scored an amazing goal. That kid has a huge future. He's going to be one of the best.

Anyway, I don't know how the rest of the coaching staff can just sit down, staying composed and watch. I haven't sat down in the past thirty seven minutes.

We're tied against VillaReal after they scored in the thirty first minute. It was a smooth and well deserved goal, I gotta admit.

We watch right now as Ferran juggles the ball and passes it over to Frenkie. The dutchman shoots his shot, despite having a few players in front of him defending.

Kicking the ball, one of the VillaReal players jumps up blocking the ball from entering and the ball makes contact with his arm.

He may not have scored but the only reason for that is the clear hands that just happened. We all stay calm as we wait for the referee to motion for a penalty.

Watching the bright, neon yellow dressed man walk, I wait impatiently for the movement. The team all gather around him, asking for what's rightfully theirs.

Some VillaReal players seem to have admitted to themselves that it is a hands, others are arguing against.

The referee argues back, we can't hear what's going as they're on the other side of the field but then the ref whistles and motions for a no goal.

I stand right in front of my chair, eyes wide as I process the decision of this referee. What!?

The benched guys all join me, standing up and yelling out of anger. I watch Xavi nod his head over and over in disbelief, chuckling to himself at the irony.

"What the hell!? That's a penalty! Hands!" I yell, walking closer to Xavi as he too walks over to the bench area to sit and calm down.

"Get used to it, that's how we play in LaLiga." He tells me, hopeless.

"Nuh-huh. Ma 7ozro. (They didn't guess.) Get me the ref here, now." I ask. They can't sit back and do nothing. The players arguing aren't going to change his mind.