𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨

Chapter 17 - Euros (Pt 1.)

10th July 2022
Chloé pov - present
The atmosphere is electric. The crowd buzzes with anticipation as we step onto the pitch at Rotherham, my pulse pounding in rhythm with the drumbeats echoing through the stands. The night is alive, lit by floodlights that feel like spotlights shining down on the stage of our lives. This is it. We’ve been preparing for this moment for months, and now it’s time to prove ourselves. Italy stands on the opposite side, tough and ready, but I can feel it in the air. Tonight, this is ours. I take a deep breath and glance at my teammates. They’re sharp, focused, and determined. Every muscle in my body is humming with the same intensity. We’ve got everything to fight for: pride, victory, and the dream of getting closer to lifting the trophy at the end of this journey. The referee blows the whistle, and the game begins, a burst of energy surging through my veins.

Right from the start, we’re pressing. We control the ball, zipping passes with precision, cutting through Italy’s midfield like a blade. The tension mounts with every touch, but we don’t waver. I keep my focus on the ball, waiting for my chance, feeling that familiar spark deep inside me. Then, it comes. Kadidiatou Diani breaks through on the wing, leaving her defender behind. She whips a cross into the box, and I know, I just know, this is it. The ball arcs toward me, and instinct takes over. I rise to meet it with my head. Contact. It’s perfect. The ball rockets past the goalkeeper and crashes into the back of the net. I feel the roar of the crowd before I hear it, vibrating through my body, making my skin tingle. My teammates surround me, their joy mirroring my own, and I let out a breathless laugh. One goal. One step closer to our dream. But it’s not over. Not yet.

We’re relentless. The pressure doesn’t let up, and Italy can barely keep up with our pace. Within minutes, we’re back at it. Diani again finds space down the right, delivering another perfect cross. It’s like déjà vu, but this time, I’m ready for it on the ground. I pounce, slotting the ball with precision into the bottom corner of the net. I barely have time to react before I’m buried in a wave of blue jerseys. Two goals. My heart races in disbelief. This is everything I’ve ever worked for, happening all at once. We push forward, and the goals keep coming. Grace Geyoro nets a hat-trick, her celebration of pure euphoria. It’s like we’re unstoppable, an unbreakable force rolling over the Italian defense. Every pass is sharp, every run timed to perfection. By halftime, we’ve put five goals past them. Five! It feels unreal, but there it is on the scoreboard, glowing in bold numbers, and it’s all because of us.

But Italy doesn’t give up. In the second half, they push back harder, fighting for pride more than anything else. They manage to sneak in a goal, and for a split second, I feel that familiar sting of disappointment, but it passes. We’ve done what we came to do. We’ve dominated this game. As the final whistle blows, a wave of relief and triumph washes over me. We’ve won. The noise of the stadium swells, and I stand there for a moment, soaking it all in, letting the sound wrap around me like a warm embrace. My body aches, every muscle sore, but it’s worth it. We made a statement tonight, loud and clear. I turn to look at my teammates, all of us laughing and hugging, our eyes sparkling with pride. Tonight, we’ve taken a huge step forward in this tournament, and I know, deep down, this is just the beginning. There’s more to come, more moments like this, more victories waiting to be claimed. For now, though, I’m going to hold on to this moment. Under the lights, on this stage, where everything we’ve worked for has come to life.

8th July 2022
Mapi pov - present
The whistle blows, and the game is on. My heart beats steady and strong, just like it always does when I step onto the field. Today, we’re up against Finland, and the stakes are high. Every game matters. Every minute counts. I feel the familiar tension in my muscles as we take our positions, my eyes scanning the pitch, ready for anything. But Finland strikes first. It happens so fast. Just 50 seconds in, their forward, Linda Sällström, makes a run, finding a gap between us. The ball is played over the top, and she’s off, streaking past our backline before I can close the distance. She fires a shot low and hard. It’s in. 1-0 to Finland. The crowd gasps, and I feel a sinking weight in my chest. We’re behind, just like that. I grit my teeth, swallow the frustration. No time to dwell on it. We have to respond. Quickly.

From the back, I shout directions, rallying the team to stay focused, to push forward. We’re not shaken. If anything, the early goal lights a fire in us. The ball moves quickly between our feet, a rhythm we know so well, and I feel our confidence return with every pass. We’re Spain, and we don’t back down. Then comes our break. Mariona Caldentey swings a corner into the box, and I watch with a fierce hope as it finds its target. Irene Paredes, my partner in defense. She rises above everyone else and connects, heading the ball powerfully into the back of the net. 1-1. I can’t help but smile as she runs back toward me, her face lit with determination. We’re back in this. We settle into our game, dominating possession as we’re known to do, weaving intricate passes through Finland’s midfield.

I stay alert, my eyes always watching, ready for any counterattacks. My job as a center-back isn’t just to defend; it’s to be the anchor, the one who holds the line, the one who sees everything unfolding in front of me. Our patience pays off just before halftime. We win another corner, and it’s our chance again. The ball is whipped in, and this time Aitana Bonmatí is the one who rises to meet it. Her header is flawless, soaring past the Finnish keeper. 2-1. Relief floods through me, but I stay grounded. I know there’s still a lot of work to be done. The second half begins, and Finland presses harder, trying to find cracks in our defense. But I don’t let up. I track every run, cut off every pass, standing strong against their attacks. I feel their frustration growing. It’s tough to break through us, and I make sure they know that. Every tackle, every clearance, is a reminder that this is our game now.

Then, in the 75th minute, we strike again. Lucía García this time, finishing with a beautiful header from close range. I’m too far back to join the celebration, but the joy is infectious. 3-1. We’re pulling away now, and I can feel the momentum completely shift in our favor. But we don’t stop there. As the minutes tick down, we keep pressing, pushing Finland further and further back. We win another corner, and this time Mariona steps up to the penalty spot after a handball in the box. She’s calm and composed as she slots it home. 4-1. The game is ours. When the final whistle blows, I finally allow myself to relax. The tension drains from my body, replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction. We’ve done it. It wasn’t easy. Finland gave us a real scare in the beginning. But, we responded the way we always do: with heart, with skill, and with a relentless determination to win.

I walk over to my teammates, my fellow defenders first, exchanging high-fives and hugs. We kept them out after that early goal, and I’m proud of that. Proud of how we stayed solid, never panicking, always believing in ourselves. As we walk off the pitch, the Spanish fans in the stands cheer for us, their voices loud and full of pride. I glance back at the field one last time, feeling the cool breeze on my face, the adrenaline still buzzing in my veins. Another game down, another step closer to our goal.  For now, though, I’ll savor this victory, knowing that we stood strong when it mattered most.

Word count: 1411