𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨

Chapter 10 - match day

17th August 2017

Chloé pov - present
I feel the electricity in the air as I step off the team bus and onto the familiar grounds of the Camp Nou. It's my first time here as a player for Barça, and the magnitude of the occasion weighs heavily on my shoulders. Today was not just any game; it was a match against Atlético, my former club, the place where my dreams had turned to nightmares. Today's my chance to reclaim my dignity, to prove my worth to myself and to the world. The fans are already gathering outside the stadium, a sea of red and blue, waving flags and chanting. I can hear snippets of conversations, some recognizing me, others speculating on how I will perform against my old team. It's a surreal moment, a dream I've envisioned countless times in my mind.

Inside the locker room, the atmosphere is a mix of calm focus and underlying excitement. My teammates, some seasoned veterans and others new faces like myself, are preparing for the battle ahead. I take my place in front of my locker, my jersey hanging there with my name emblazoned across the back. I reach out and touch it, feeling a rush of emotions. This jersey represents a new beginning. As I change into my gear, I can't help but think back to my time at Atlético. It had started with so much promise. I was young, talented, and eager to make a mark. But things quickly soured. There were misunderstandings with the coach, conflicts with some of the players, and a series of injuries that kept me from reaching my full potential. The media has been relentless, painting me as a troublemaker and a flop. Leaving Atlético had been a painful but necessary decision.

My mind snaps back to the present as the coach, a tall, authoritative figure with a commanding presence, begins his pre-match talk. He speaks about tactics, the importance of maintaining possession, and exploiting Atlético's weaknesses. His words are precise, motivational, but I find my mind drifting again. I catch myself and refocus, knowing I need to be fully present for this. When the team is finally ready to head out to the pitch, I feel a surge of adrenaline. We walked out into the tunnel, the roar of the crowd growing louder with each step. I can see the Atlético players lined up alongside us, some familiar faces among them. I meet the eyes of a few, receiving a range of looks from indifference to veiled animosity. I steel myself, refusing to be intimidated.

The stadium erupts as we walk onto the field. The sheer volume of the cheers is almost overwhelming. I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. I look around at the massive stands, filled with tens of thousands of fans, and feel a sense of awe. This is what I have worked for, what I have sacrificed so much for. As they sort out kick off I close my eyes and allow the atmosphere to wash over me. I think about my family, my friends, and everyone who has supported me through the tough times. I think about the countless hours of training, the pain of my injuries, and the relentless pursuit of my dream. Now that the kick off is sorted out I open my eyes, feeling more determined than ever. The referee blows the whistle, and the game begins.

The opening minutes are tense, both teams are testing each other, probing for weaknesses. I feel a rush of exhilaration every time I touch the ball. My passes are crisp, my movements sharp. I can feel the energy of my teammates, their confidence growing with each successful play. We dominate possession, our fluid passing game forcing Atlético to chase the ball. But Atlético is disciplined, their defense well-organized and difficult to break down. I find myself in the thick of the action, my skills and vision constantly tested by my former teammates.

Around the 20th minute, I see an opportunity. I receive the ball near the halfway line, turn, and drive forward with ball. I dribble past one defender, then another, my feet moving almost instinctively. As I approach the penalty area, I see a gap in the defense and thread a pass to my teammate, Alexia Putellas, who is making a run into the box but my pass is a bit too heavy. She manages a shot. The shot is on target, but the Atlético goalkeeper makes a brilliant save, tipping the ball over the bar. I curse under my breath but quickly shake it off. We were getting closer. The ensuing corner kick is well-executed, but Atlético's defense hold firm. The game continues in this vein, with us pressing and Atlético countering whenever they can.