"Shane Carter... the aggressive one-two... Pepe slides in! Brilliant! Brilliant! Brilliant! He's clean through! Casillas rushes out... Carter... the chip... IT'S IN!!!"
Inside the American national broadcast studio, Alexi Lalas leaped out of his chair, throwing his arms in the air.
He stared wide-eyed at his monitor, his expression one of absolute disbelief.
"A brace! A brace!! Shane Carter has scored a brace against Real Madrid!!! Ahhhhh! Unbelievable! Absolutely unbelievable!!! He dispossessed Özil, destroyed Khedira... he drove the counter-attack entirely on his own and applied the perfect finish! This is what you call a genius! This is a genius! The greatest prodigy in the history of our football!!!"
Alexi Lalas was practically roaring into the microphone. In his usual broadcasts, he never allowed himself to lose control like this.
But this was against Real Madrid!
A player of their own heritage. Facing Real Madrid, the undisputed biggest club on the planet. And in less than twenty minutes, he had scored twice!
Atlético Madrid, a team almost no one gave a chance before kickoff, was now leading Los Blancos by two goals!
"Holy shit! Let's go!"
"A coast-to-coast solo run!"
"Fucking insane!"
Online, the fans were boiling over. This kind of rapid, devastating counter-attack always made the blood pump faster. Millions of fans had flooded into the online streaming platforms to watch the match.
If Shane's previous opponents lacked true global prestige...
Now, the opponent was Real Madrid! The team currently sitting at the absolute summit of the La Liga table!
Over in Catalonia, countless Barcelona fans were suddenly shouting Shane's name.
Because... if Real Madrid lost this match...
The point gap between Barcelona and Madrid would shrink to just two points!
Two points!
This meant that in just one more matchday, Madrid could lose their grip on the top spot. Their massive, untouchable advantage would evaporate completely!
"If Carter's previous performances against Málaga, Villarreal, and Real Sociedad merely established him as a highly watched rookie in La Liga... then today, he has officially become a globally recognized rising star!"
"A seventeen-year-old kid who scores a brace against Real Madrid. After this match, you can guarantee that every elite club in Europe will be tracking this American-Chinese teenager!" García announced from the Spanish commentary booth.
It was obvious.
Real Madrid's quality was unquestionable. Their dominance in the opening phases of the match had been clear for all to see.
But now, they were down by two goals.
And the sole reason for that deficit was Shane Carter.
A world-class long-range screamer.
A coast-to-coast solo counter-attack.
Two breathtaking, completely different types of goals.
Up in the press box, journalists were already typing furiously. They knew that when the final whistle blew, the most talked-about player on the planet would be Shane. Regardless of the final scoreline, that fact was already sealed.
AS editor Tomás Roncero sat completely dumbfounded.
He didn't even know what to write anymore.
Being one goal down could be chalked up to bad luck or an anomaly.
Two goals down... Real Madrid was now in genuine, critical danger.
If they actually lost this match, their supposedly comfortable lead in the title race would be instantly wiped out.
More critically, losing the Madrid Derby could severely damage their morale. Would it derail their incredible winning momentum from the past few months?
These psychological factors were impossible to predict.
The only solution was to mount a two-goal comeback.
But coming back from 2-0 down away from home... that was easier said than done.
...
On the touchline, Diego Simeone had both hands on his head.
He was equally shocked, staring at the pitch in disbelief.
His original plan was to start Mario Suárez to fortify the midfield, pushing Shane higher up the pitch to maximize his passing and long-range shooting threats. He wouldn't have minded if they didn't score in the first half, as long as they didn't concede.
But who could have predicted this?
Shane had delivered a massive, unimaginable surprise.
Less than twenty minutes in. A brace!
"I think we all vastly underestimated his direct attacking threat!" Simeone shouted to his assistants.
"If only his absolute top speed was a little faster..." Germán Burgos mused, a hint of greed in his voice.
If Shane had elite winger pace, his counter-attacking threat would be practically illegal. Passing, dribbling, shooting, and pure pace? That would be a Ballon d'Or-level tactical nucleus.
"Don't be so greedy... who knows, maybe the kid still has more surprises for us," Simeone chuckled.
Regardless, his team was two goals up.
He glanced down the touchline at Mourinho. Seeing the Portuguese manager's ashen, furious face made Simeone even happier.
"Well, all the problems belong to the Portuguese now."
Simeone sat back down on the bench with a smug grin.
...
Mourinho was indeed feeling the immense pressure.
Yes, Real Madrid was strong—magnitudes stronger than this season's Atlético. But even he couldn't guarantee a two-goal comeback. At the end of the day, Atlético was a top-flight La Liga side, and not a weak one.
Forget Atlético; going two goals down within twenty minutes away to any La Liga team was a nightmare scenario.
The talent gap in a top division is never so large that you can just walk over a parked bus. If Atlético dropped deep into a low block, breaking them down would be agonizing.
Furthermore... you had to live in constant terror of the counter.
Shane's two goals hung over Real Madrid's defense like the Sword of Damocles.
When the match restarted, it was obvious the two goals had rattled Real Madrid.
Their players were visibly hesitant to play high-risk, vertical passes. Combined with the severe blow to their morale, Madrid's offensive momentum slowed to a crawl.
However, as the clock ticked closer to halftime, the reality of the 2-0 deficit forced the Madrid players to recognize that they had to attack.
If they allowed Atlético to carry a two-goal cushion into the dressing room, the second half would be an uphill battle through mud. Conversely, if they could pull one back before the break, a one-goal deficit was highly manageable.
Trapped between the fear of conceding a third and the desperation to score, the Real Madrid players grew increasingly frantic.
In the twenty-ninth minute.
Cristiano Ronaldo tried to violently force his way past a defender, lost the ball, and nearly triggered another Atlético counter.
Shortly after, Falcao received the ball near the edge of the box and tried to spin for a shot, only to be violently clattered to the ground by Pepe and another defender.
Amidst a chorus of boos from the Calderón, the referee waved play on, deeming it a legal challenge.
Simeone sprinted to the edge of his technical area, screaming and waving his arms in protest, though it obviously did nothing to change the referee's mind.
Mourinho stood with his brow locked in a tight frown.
He could see his team unraveling emotionally.
Even their superstar, Cristiano Ronaldo, had essentially abandoned the concept of combination play, trying to hero-ball his way through the defense. Real Madrid's mentality was cracking.
Under these circumstances, Atlético's defensive duties actually became easier.
In the final stages of the first half, they even managed to push out and establish spells of sustained possession, forcing Real Madrid onto the back foot.
Watching his Galácticos being pinned back by Atlético made Mourinho's blood pressure spike. He shook his head repeatedly.
Conceding two counter-attacking goals had inflicted catastrophic psychological damage on his squad.
There was one minute of stoppage time added to the first half.
But Mourinho didn't even wait for the whistle.
He turned on his heel and marched straight down the tunnel toward the dressing room.
He desperately needed the fifteen-minute halftime interval to recalibrate his team.
Otherwise... if this dynamic continued... a Real Madrid defeat wasn't just possible.
It was only a matter of time.
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