Chelsea Starting XI [3-5-2]
1, Ziger (GK)
3, Colley (RCB)
4, Guéhi (CB)
5, Maatsen (LCB)
8, Gilmour (RCM)
7, Gallagher (LCM)
6, McEachran (CM)
2, Lamptey (RM)
11, Familia-Castillo (LM)
9, Redan (ST)
10, McCormick (ST) ©
FC Barcelona Starting XI [4-3-3]
1, Tenas (GK)
2, Jaime (RB)
3, Mingueza (RCB)
4, Medina (LCB)
5, Miranda (LB)
6, Lloret (CDM) ©
10, Monchu (RCM)
8, Orellano (LCM)
7, De La Fuente (RW)
9, Marqués (ST)
11, Fati (LW)
Jordi nodded upon sensing the excitement among his team. In an all-important semi-final, it was important that they weren't too nervous. Back as captain this season, Jordi had overseen a successful campaign thus far with the team high on confidence. As is custom, Jordi clapped a couple of times as he stared down Redan, standing above the ball for kick off.
"FWHEE"
Redan passed the ball straight back to Guéhi in defense as the Chelsea team rushed forward. Jordi did not move, awaiting a long pass in from Guéhi, which came moments later. However, no Chelsea player managed to get near the overhit ball, and it went out for a Barca goal kick.
The first play set the tone for the initial minutes of the game. Both teams were quick to transition and attack, with big chances on both ends. The frantic pace did not suit Barca's style, and it was up to the team's metronome to settle the game. After the initial 10-minute phase, Jordi succeeded in stabilizing the shape of the team with lateral passes and measured progression. He was everywhere on the pitch, always available as the free man. Short pass, drift into space, receive the ball, lay it off again. On the adolescent European stage, Jordi was showcasing a rhythm and control no spectator had seen before.
20'
Orellano passed the ball into the path of Jordi, who was gliding in from behind. Jordi glanced over his shoulder to confirm that McCormick was not keeping up with him. Then, without breaking his stride, Jordi received the ball with the outside of his left foot. Gallagher wasted no time closing him down and attacking the ball. Noticing Gallagher commit his weight to the right, Jordi pushed the ball across his body with the inside of his left foot. In a rapid movement, his right foot met the ball and pushed it past Gallagher. With a swift La Croqueta, Jordi was past his man!
Behind Gallagher, Jordi entered the half space on the right side of the pitch. Already aware of his teammates' positioning, he wasted no time and caressed the ball in front of Konrad De La Fuente, who was running in from the right wing. Konrad took a touch towards the byline and cut it back to the edge of the 6-yard box. Guéhi and Maatsen could only stand and watch as Ansu Fati arrived to meet the ball and place it across the keeper into the goal.
1-0!
Ansu was jumping on Konrad before the net even rippled. Monchu and Mingueza ran up to Jordi and enveloped him in a group hug. They understood that the La Croqueta and the switch to Konrad created the goal. Of course, Ansu was right there screaming in Jordi's ear soon after. In the all-important final, Barcelona had taken the lead early!
31'
Barca's dominance continued after their first goal. The game was entirely played in the last third of the pitch with Chelsea absorbing pressure. Barcelona had committed their players forward with only their two central defenders at the halfway line, along with Chelsea's strikers. Sure enough, the risk of a counterattack was realized when Lamptey dispossessed Miranda and ran out with the ball. With two Barca defenders covering the two strikers running in behind, Jordi had to sprint at full speed to reach Lamptey on the wing.
Jordi, both explosive and quick as the fastest of wingers, soon caught up to Lamptey. Then… it happened.
On Lamptey's heels, Jordi was about to brace for a final burst when he felt the most excruciating pain he had ever suffered. He tried to continue despite the pain, but his left leg could no longer keep up. After 4 strides, Jordi came to a halt. His hand instinctively touched his left hamstring. He was surprised to find no broken skin, for his pain was akin to someone stabbing his leg. Very carefully, after confirming that the ball was cleared by Tenas, Jordi knelt down.
Jordi lay on the floor, his hand still clutching his hamstring, his face knotted into a grimace, and his breath ragged. The adrenaline was quickly wearing off, and Jordi could only bite his lips to stay silent. The raindrops were thick and heavy as they fell on his face, forcing him to close his eyes. His mind became hyperaware of all the noise around. Ironically, it was the extreme silence that was most deafening, with even the sparse shouts and dialogue only a background lull.
Amidst the muffled voices, Dr. Aroyo's voice stood out to Jordi, "Was it a tearing pain?"
Eyes closed, Jordi muttered, "Stab- A, a stabbing pain."
"Hamza, ice bag. Quick! Ice bag to his hamstring. Jordi, come on, I'll help you up. Slowly, very slowly."
With Dr. Aroyo's support, Jordi sat up and finally opened his eyes. He was surrounded by players whose faces he could not distinguish for now. He closed his eyes again and let Hamza wrap the cellophane around his thigh and the ice bag. The cold touch may not have immediately dulled the pain, but it distracted his mind. Jordi wished he could hug his mother.
…
Jordi hated how empty the dressing room was. It was already the second half, and Jordi was stretched out on a makeshift bed with his left leg elevated on a chair. Only the medical staff and the team manager were around him. He rushed to pick up his phone after its ring interrupted the heavy silence. Uncle Ferran had been immediately informed, so it must be from home.
His mother's voice was both a comfort and a trial for Jordi, "Yes, Mama. I'm fine. The pain isn't too much… Yes, yes… It could just be a minor strain… Ok… Yes, give it to Uncle, please."
"Reietó… Reietó, are you okay?" Uncle Ferran's question came in bursts amid heavy breaths.
"Uncle, Dr. Aroyo believes it could be a Grade 2 or 3 rupture."
"… Oh… I-"
"With the level of pain, they have suggested an immediate MRI. So, I will go to the hospital in the morning."
"Ok, Reietó. Don't worry, don't worry, ufff… I'm leaving right now. I'll be there in 4, 5 hours at maximum. Barcelona to Geneva flights leave every few hours."
"Uncle, just you, ok? Please don't bring Mama."
"Yes, yes, Reietó. Whatever you want right now. Stay strong, Jordi. I'll be there with you soon."
The call ended and Jordi closed his eyes once again. Contrary to his instinct, Jordi focused on the pain in his leg, so he wouldn't have to think about the questions in his head. What if he could no longer play football? Who even was he without a football at his feet?