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The tunnel at the Mestalla at halftime had the particular quality of a building that knows it is losing. The Valencia players walked through it without speaking, Parejo at the front, the rest following in the way a team follows when there is no argument left to have with the scoreline.
Djukic waited in the technical area as his players went past. He didn't say anything to them there. He saved it for the dressing room.
The Barcelona players moved through at a jog, Neymar and Messi in conversation, Iniesta loosening his ankle. Lorenzo walked with Mascherano, both quiet, the professional silence of men who know the second half has its own requirements.
In the Valencia dressing room, Djukic was direct.
"They have quality. That is a fact. What is also a fact is that we are two goals down and we have forty-five minutes. We change the shape, five across the back, Banega and Mustafi on, we make ourselves harder to break down. We take our moments when they come. If we get one back, it changes the dynamic." He looked around the room. "Play like professionals for forty-five minutes. That is all."
Across the corridor, Martino was equally brief.
"Same principles. Don't overreach for a fourth. Maintain the shape and let the game come. Lorenzo, Sandro on for you at sixty-five if the legs need it." He looked at the room. "Professional second half."
Sergi Roberto filled his water bottle. Pautasso moved through the group with his tablet, checking numbers. The atmosphere was calm, the specific calm of a dressing room that is two goals ahead on the road and has nothing to prove.
Pautasso stopped beside Lorenzo. "Two shots, two goals in the first half. 100% conversion. You're one away from consecutive hat-tricks."
Lorenzo didn't respond immediately. He turned the thought over. Consecutive hat-tricks, four matches in, already.
"Tell Leo to keep the lanes open," he said.
The second half began under a sky that had darkened slightly, the Mestalla's floodlights taking full hold. Djukic's changes were immediate in their effect - Valencia's 5-4-1 made the central channels narrow and difficult, Banega operating as a midfield screen in front of the back five, Mustafi adding physical presence to the defensive line.
For twenty minutes, it held. Barcelona circulated the ball without finding the incision they needed, Parejo and Romeu tracking Lorenzo tightly, Banega intercepting several of Iniesta's vertical attempts before they could develop. The Mestalla, sensing the discipline, began to make noise again.
Santiago noted it from the booth. "Valencia have reorganised. Djukic has put bodies behind the ball and the second half is a different contest from the first. Lorenzo is getting much tighter attention now - Parejo practically shadowing him step for step."
"Which is exactly what they need to do," Inés said. "The question is how long they can sustain it at this intensity."
In the 63rd minute, Lorenzo dropped deep into midfield, pulling both Parejo and Romeu with him, creating the space he couldn't find from a higher position. He received from Iniesta, held it under pressure, and flicked a clipped pass over the defensive line into the channel.
Neymar ran onto it at full sprint. Mathieu tracked back, his angle narrowing as Neymar approached the box. It was a genuine contest, neither player at fault for what happened next. Mathieu committed to the challenge, his timing slightly off on a ball that moved faster than he anticipated. His trailing leg caught Neymar's plant foot as both men went to ground.
Fweet-!
The referee pointed to the spot without hesitation. Mathieu raised his hands - not in protest but in the immediate acknowledgement of a professional who knows he has made a mistake and is ready to accept it. Yellow card.
The Mestalla gave the decision a wall of noise.
Messi picked up the ball and walked toward the spot. Then he paused. He looked at Lorenzo, a brief, deliberate look, something calculating in it, a glint of something that wasn't entirely serious.
"I want to try something," Messi said. "Something the Godfather used to do."
Lorenzo looked at him. He knew exactly what Messi meant, the Cruyff-Olsen penalty, Ajax 1982, the short pass that became a piece of football folklore. He had watched it in his previous life. He had never expected to be the second man in it.
"Guaita has faced my penalties before," Messi continued quietly. "He knows my angles. He'll dive early." He placed the ball on the spot. "So we don't give him an angle."
The Valencia players were still protesting at the edge of the area. The referee waved them back.
Guaita stood on his line, bouncing slightly, eyes fixed on Messi. He had studied Messi's penalty record, the low corner, the power to the right, the occasional stutter-step. He was ready for all of them.
Fweet—!
Messi began his run - short, slightly stuttering. Guaita read the approach and committed, diving hard to his right, his full bodyweight going into the choice.
Messi's foot came through the ball and nudged it two yards to the left. Not a shot. A pass.
For a fraction of a second the entire stadium was silent, not understanding what had just happened, Guaita already in mid-air and unable to reverse.
Lorenzo arrived from the edge of the D at full stride. The ball was rolling, the goal empty from post to post. He didn't try a finish. He simply guided it in - a tap, almost apologetic in its simplicity, the most clinical possible conclusion to a move that had required everything except the last touch.
SWISH.
4-1.
The Mestalla gave a sound that was half gasp and half something that had no name - fifty-five thousand people watching a penalty they had never seen before and processing it in real time.
"THE CRUYFF PENALTY!!" Santiago's voice cracked. "A TRIBUTE TO THE GODFATHER! MESSI ROLLS IT, LORENZO TAPS IT IN - CONSECUTIVE HAT-TRICKS FOR THE BEAST! THE 1982 AJAX SPECIAL, PRODUCED AT THE MESTALLA IN 2013!"
Xavi, on the bench, turned to Iniesta with his mouth open. Then he started laughing, the laugh of someone watching something they had only ever heard described. "They actually did it."
Inés Valdes let the moment sit before speaking. "Consecutive hat-tricks in La Liga. Nine league goals in four matches. And for the record, that penalty routine has only been executed successfully at the highest level once before, by Johan Cruyff and Jesper Olsen. Messi and Lorenzo have just joined that list."
On the pitch, Messi jumped onto Lorenzo's back, still grinning. Lorenzo stood with his arms wide, the boos of the Mestalla arriving from directly above in that particular vertical pressure this stadium produced.
He took it without moving.
[Status: Leading (4-1). 65th Minute. La Liga Matchday 4 - Mestalla.]
[Target: Hold through final twenty-five minutes. Secure the result.]
Plz Drop Some Power Stones.