While Atlético Madrid's players were lost in their wild celebrations, the Barcelona squad remained frozen in place.
The goal had struck them like a tornado. It arrived so fast that before they could even react, the damage was already done. Víctor Valdés lay flat on the goal line, his neck twisted as he stared at the ball resting in the back of the net, his face a picture of absolute frustration.
Piqué looked genuinely spooked. He stood rooted to the grass, his expression blank as his mind replayed the moment on an endless loop.
Was this a joke? Did this kid have rocket engines hidden in his boots?
According to Piqué's judgment, the ball had been dropping perfectly toward his own head. All he had to do was stand his ground and clear it. Who could have predicted that Shane Carter would win a header from a strictly inferior jumping position? Was this what people meant by raw power defying logic?
Piqué was a good seven or eight centimeters taller than Shane. But in terms of absolute vertical leap, he had been utterly destroyed. Just how terrifying was the kid's jumping ability?
He had literally been flying.
Nearby, Xavi and Iniesta wore matching expressions of disbelief. They had been the ones tracking Shane, completely convinced he was peeling off to receive a cutback. When Shane suddenly darted toward the near post, neither of them had the time to adjust.
They had trusted Piqué to handle the aerial threat. That trust had been shattered in an instant.
Iniesta swallowed hard. Having played against Shane so many times, he thought he knew the midfielder's physical limits. But this genuinely terrified him.
"I swear his feet were higher than my head in that split second," Iniesta muttered.
Xavi shook his head slowly. "The kid is a monster. Nothing he does surprises me anymore."
Taking a deep breath, Xavi glanced over at the celebrating Atlético players. "Forget about it. Just stick to the plan."
He forced his own rising unease down. Xavi was sharp enough to notice the subtle shift in Atlético's attacking patterns. Griezmann hadn't cut inside, and Shane hadn't hovered for the grounded pass.
It was completely different from Atlético's usual routines. But it was only one attack. One sequence couldn't necessarily prove a complete tactical overhaul.
On the touchline, Guardiola was pondering the exact same question.
Was that sequence a meticulously designed set-piece routine, or just a flash of on-field improvisation? Was Shane's terrifying vertical leap a one-off burst of adrenaline, or a weapon he could deploy consistently?
Guardiola didn't have the answers yet. Even though his team had just conceded, he showed absolutely no signs of panic. He stepped to the edge of his technical area, crossed his arms, and observed the pitch with cold focus.
This was the aura of a champion manager.
Conceding in the opening minute was a disaster, but the match had only just begun. If Barcelona panicked at the first sign of trouble, they never would have achieved their historic success. They certainly wouldn't have pushed this title race to the wire.
…
Atlético's players understood this reality perfectly.
The early goal was exhilarating, but they knew it was barely the first minute. If this had been a goal in the ninety-fifth minute, they would have celebrated straight through the final whistle.
But right now, Barcelona had practically an entire match to equalize or completely turn the game around.
Barcelona's raw quality was undeniable. The Atlético squad remained cautious, knowing they had absolutely no right to underestimate their opponents. The players quickly jogged back to their respective positions, ready for Barcelona to restart the match.
…
When play resumed, the cheers in the stadium faded, immediately replaced by a deafening chorus of boos.
Barcelona had taken control of possession. Every single pass they made was met with fierce jeers from the home crowd. The Atlético fans were giving it their all, but the actual impact of their hostility was questionable.
At the very least, Barcelona's players looked entirely unfazed.
They showed no lingering effects from the early shock. Their passing, receiving, and off-the-ball movement were as stable as ever. The entire team operated like a finely tuned, precision machine.
In a match that would decide the league title, a team like Barcelona wasn't going to fall apart over a single goal.
They controlled the ball in midfield, patiently stringing together lateral and backward passes. They were actively trying to bait Atlético's players into pressing high, hoping to expose the space behind their defensive line.
But Atlético didn't take the bait.
Their tactical blueprint relied heavily on defensive solidity. The pre-match analysis had been entirely correct about the fundamental dynamic of this clash. Atlético could afford a draw. Barcelona could not.
Why would Atlético proactively push forward and give Barcelona the exact openings they wanted? Sitting deep and hitting on the counter was their bread and butter. Now that they had a one-goal lead, they had even more reason to play their natural game.
For most teams in the world, conceding first to a counter-attacking side was a nightmare scenario. But Barcelona's response was deeply impressive.
They executed their system flawlessly. They circulated possession, abruptly changed tempo in the middle of the pitch, and relied on intricate combinations to test the defense.
Against this slow, methodical siege, Atlético's defensive shape remained rock solid.
Shane Carter and Gabi operated as an iron gate sitting just in front of the back four. Koke and Raúl García stayed disciplined on the flanks, essentially forming a flat midfield line. Even the two forwards dropped deep, constantly harassing any Barcelona player who held the ball near the center circle.
The match had settled exactly into the rhythm everyone had predicted.
Up in the broadcasting booth, the Catalan commentator was practically vibrating with pride.
"Despite conceding the opening goal, the Barcelona players have not panicked! This is Barça! No storm can force us to bow our heads! We are invincible! We fear nothing! So what if we concede first?! We will score one, two, three goals! We will turn this around! Because our name is Barcelona!"
Read ahead with 70+ chapters now with daily updates!
@patreon.com/Authorizz