1er mars 2025. Quinze jours avant le Clásico. Le compte à rebours avait commencé.
L'atmosphère était différente ce matin au centre d'entraînement du FC Barcelone. L'intensité était plus forte. Chaque exercice était plus précis. Chaque joueur savait ce qui l'attendait : le match décisif pour le déroulement de sa saison.
Hansi Flick a réuni l'équipe sur le terrain d'entraînement à 9h30. Un grand écran diffusait les derniers matchs du Real Madrid.
« Quinze jours », dit simplement Flick. « Quinze jours avant d'affronter le Real Madrid au Camp Nou. Le match le plus important de la saison. Tout notre travail se résume à ça. »
Il appuya sur sa télécommande. Des statistiques s'affichèrent à l'écran :
Classement de La Liga (1er mars) :
Barcelone - 71 points (22-2-1, GD +56) Real Madrid - 70 points (23-1-1, GD +54)
« Un seul point nous sépare. Un seul point. Si nous gagnons le Clásico, nous aurons quatre points d'avance à dix matchs de la fin. Le titre sera quasiment à nous. Si nous perdons, ils auront deux points d'avance et l'avantage psychologique sera au rendez-vous. Si nous faisons match nul, nous n'aurons toujours qu'un point d'avance et rien ne changera. »
D'autres images ont été diffusées : Mbappé détruisant les défenses, Vinícius marquant des buts exceptionnels, Bellingham contrôlant le milieu de terrain.
« Le Real Madrid est la deuxième meilleure équipe du monde », a poursuivi Flick. « Ils ont le deuxième meilleur joueur du monde. Ils sont dangereux, redoutables devant le but et veulent absolument nous battre. Mais nous avons quelque chose qu'ils n'ont pas. »
Il marqua une pause pour faire de l'effet.
« Nous avons le meilleur joueur du monde. Nous avons la meilleure cohésion d'équipe d'Europe. Nous avons le Camp Nou – quatre-vingt-quinze mille personnes qui créeront une ambiance que le Real Madrid n'a jamais connue. Et nous avons la mentalité des champions. »
Les joueurs acquiesçaient, se nourrissant de l'énergie de Flick.
« Alors, pendant les quinze prochains jours, nous nous entraînons comme jamais auparavant. Nous nous préparons à tous les scénarios. Et le 16 mars, nous montrerons au monde pourquoi Barcelone est le plus grand club de l'histoire du football. »
L'équipe a éclaté en applaudissements.
2 mars – Barcelone 3-0 Real Sociedad
Le calendrier du championnat avant le Clásico était infernal : trois matchs en neuf jours. Premier adversaire : la Real Sociedad au Camp Nou.
Ethan a inscrit un doublé. D'abord à la 14e minute, une superbe tête sur corner de Kimmich. Ensuite à la 67e, un but en solitaire où il a éliminé quatre défenseurs avant de conclure.
Lewandowski a inscrit le troisième but à la 82e minute. Professionnel, dominateur, exactement ce qu'il fallait.
Le Real Madrid affrontait Cadix plus tard dans la journée. Victoire 4-1. Mbappé signait un triplé. Encore une fois.
Le message était clair : les deux équipes étaient au sommet de leur forme avant le Clásico.
Bilan de la saison :
Ethan : 44 buts en 31 matches Mbappé : 43 buts en 31 matches
Un seul but les séparait désormais. La course de Pichichi était incroyablement serrée.
5 mars – Demi-finale de la Copa del Rey, match retour
Barcelona faced Atlético Madrid in the Copa del Rey semifinal second leg. They'd won the first leg 2-1 at the Wanda Metropolitano, so the pressure was off slightly.
But Diego Simeone's team never made anything easy.
Atlético came to Camp Nou and defended like their lives depended on it. Eleven men behind the ball. Physical. Cynical. Willing to use every dark art in football.
The match was 0-0 at halftime. 0-0 at seventy minutes. The Camp Nou was getting nervous—if Atlético scored, they'd be through on away goals.
Then, in the seventy-eighth minute, Ethan struck.
A moment of pure individual brilliance. He received the ball thirty yards from goal, three Atlético players immediately closing him down. He dropped his shoulder, beat the first defender with a step-over, nutmegged the second, and curled a shot past the third into the top corner.
Unstoppable. Undefendable. The kind of goal only he could score.
1-0 Barcelona. 3-1 on aggregate.
Camp Nou erupted. Barcelona were through to the Copa del Rey final. Another trophy within reach.
After the match, in the mixed zone, journalists asked about the Clásico.
"You're in great form heading into the Madrid match. Confident?"
"I'm always confident. But confidence means nothing if we don't execute. Madrid are an excellent team. We need to be at our absolute best to beat them."
"Mbappé said in an interview yesterday that he's going to score at Camp Nou and silence the crowd. Your response?"
Ethan smiled. "I'd expect nothing less from Kylian. He's a competitor. But scoring at Camp Nou is easier said than done. Ninety-five thousand people will be there to make sure he doesn't."
Perfect answer. Competitive without being disrespectful.
March 9th - Cádiz 0-1 Barcelona
The final match before the Clásico was away at Cádiz. Flick rested several starters, including Pedri and Lewandowski. But Ethan played—he wanted to stay sharp, wanted to keep his rhythm.
The match was frustrating. Cádiz defended deep and made the pitch feel tiny. Barcelona dominated possession but created few clear chances.
Then, in the sixty-third minute, Ethan delivered.
Kimmich's long ball over the top. Ethan chased it down, beating Cádiz's center-back for pace. One-on-one with the goalkeeper. Simple finish.
1-0 Barcelona.
That was the only goal of the match. Three points secured. Job done.
Real Madrid, also playing a weaker opponent, won 5-0. Mbappé scored twice, bringing his season total to 45 goals.
Updated tallies:
Ethan: 45 goals in 33 matches Mbappé: 45 goals in 33 matches
Dead even. The Pichichi race couldn't be closer.
La Liga Table (March 9th):
Barcelona - 80 points (25-2-1) Real Madrid - 79 points (26-1-1)
One point. Still one point. Everything would be decided on Sunday.
March 12th - Four Days Before
The Barcelona training session was closed to media. No cameras. No journalists. Just the team, preparing for the biggest match of the season.
Dr. Martínez, the sports psychologist, led a mental preparation session in the afternoon.
"Pressure is what you make of it," she reminded them. "The Clásico is just another ninety-minute football match. Same rules. Same ball. Same goal posts. The only difference is what you choose to attach to it mentally."
But everyone knew it wasn't just another match. This was Barcelona vs Real Madrid. For first place in La Liga. With both teams in peak form. With the two best players in the world going head-to-head.
After the session, Ethan stayed behind to talk to Dr. Martínez privately.
"How are you feeling?" she asked once they were alone.
"Nervous. Excited. Ready."
"The media is building this up as you versus Mbappé. How do you handle that?"
"By remembering it's not about me versus him. It's about Barcelona versus Real Madrid. Eleven players against eleven players. If I get too focused on individual battles, I lose sight of the team objective."
"That's very mature. But let me ask you something—do you want to outperform him on Sunday?"
Ethan hesitated, then smiled. "Of course I do. He's my best friend, but I want to destroy him. I want to score more goals, create more chances, have a better game. That's what competition means."
"And if he has a better game than you but Barcelona wins?"
"Then I'll be thrilled we won and frustrated I didn't play better. Both things can be true."
Dr. Martínez nodded approvingly. "That's healthy. That's the right mindset. Win the match first. Individual performance second."
They talked for another twenty minutes about pressure management, about staying present, about controlling what he could control.
When Ethan finally left, he felt centered. Ready. Four days until the biggest match of his life.
March 14th - Two Days Before
Sofia had taken the entire week off work to be with Ethan. She understood how important this match was, understood that he needed support even if he'd never explicitly ask for it.
They were having dinner at home—chicken and vegetables, the boring but necessary diet of a professional athlete—when she brought up something unexpected.
"I interviewed Kylian yesterday," she said casually.
Ethan's fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "What did he say?"
"That Sunday is the most important match of his career. That he has something to prove after losing the Ballon d'Or. That he respects you as a player and a friend but wants to beat you more than anything."
"Did he seem nervous?"
"Actually, yes. He kept fidgeting with his hands. Couldn't sit still. I've never seen him like that."
Good. If Mbappé was nervous, that meant he felt the pressure too. They were both human, both carrying enormous expectations.
"He also said something interesting," Sofia continued. "He said that no matter what happens on Sunday, you'll always be brothers. That football is important but friendship is forever. I thought that was sweet."
Ethan felt his chest tighten. Despite everything—the rivalry, the competition, the media trying to create animosity—they were still brothers. That would never change.
"I need to text him," Ethan said, pulling out his phone.
Ethan:Sofia told me what you said about friendship being forever. Thanks, hermano. Means a lot. But I'm still destroying you on Sunday. 😤
The response came thirty seconds later:
Mbappé:You can try. But I'm scoring a hat-trick at Camp Nou and winning 3-1. Already decided. 😂
Ethan:Bold prediction. I'm scoring four and we're winning 5-0.
Mbappé:See you Sunday. May the best player win.
Ethan:He will.
They both sent laughing emojis. Even now, even with everything on the line, they could still joke.
March 15th - One Day Before
The final training session before the Clásico was at Camp Nou itself. Flick wanted the players to feel the stadium, to visualize the match, to mentally prepare for what was coming.
The session was light—some passing drills, set-piece work, tactical review. No point risking injuries twenty-four hours before the biggest match of the season.
After training, Flick pulled Ethan aside.
"Tomorrow is your match," the German manager said. "I know I say it's eleven versus eleven, and that's true. But matches like this—Clásicos, Champions League finals—they're often decided by individual moments of brilliance. Your moments."
"No pressure then," Ethan joked.
"There's always pressure at this level. But you've thrived under pressure your entire career. Tomorrow, I need you to do what you've always done—be the best player on the pitch. Show everyone why you won three Ballon d'Ors. Make the difference."
"I will."
"I know you will. That's why Barcelona invested everything in you. Because in the biggest moments, you deliver."
They shook hands. Ethan felt the weight of expectation but also the thrill of the challenge. This was why he played football—for moments like this.
That night, Ethan couldn't sleep. He lay in bed at 2:47 AM, staring at the ceiling, Sofia breathing softly beside him.
Twenty hours until kickoff.
His mind was racing through scenarios. What if Madrid pressed high? What if they sat deep and countered? What if Mbappé scored first and silenced Camp Nou? What if he himself had a bad game?
Stop it, he told himself. Control what you can control.
He got out of bed carefully, went to the balcony, and looked out at Barcelona's skyline. The city was asleep, peaceful, unaware that tomorrow would be one of the most important days in the club's recent history.
Three moves ahead, he could see exactly how it needed to play out:
Move one: Score early. Silence any doubts. Give Barcelona confidence and put Madrid under pressure.
Move two: Dominate Mbappé. Not just outscore him—outplay him. Show the ninety-five thousand people at Camp Nou and the billion watching worldwide who was better.
Move three: Win decisively. Not 1-0 or 2-1. Win 3-0 or 4-1. Make a statement that Barcelona was still the best team in Spain, in Europe, in the world.
He went back to bed. Closed his eyes. Forced his mind to quiet.
Tomorrow. Everything would be decided tomorrow.
March 16th, 2025 - Game Day
Ethan woke at 9:23 AM to his alarm. Eleven hours and thirty-seven minutes until kickoff.
He went through his matchday routine with religious precision:
9:30 AM - Light breakfast (oatmeal, banana, orange juice) 10:00 AM - Massage session with the team physiotherapist 11:30 AM - Visualization exercises (imagining goals, movements, success) 12:30 PM - Lunch (chicken, rice, vegetables, exactly 700 calories) 1:30 PM - Nap (forced rest, even if he couldn't actually sleep) 3:00 PM - Shower and dress 4:00 PM - Leave for Camp Nou
Sofia drove him to the stadium. They didn't talk much—she understood he was in his pre-match zone, mentally preparing.
"I love you," she said when they pulled up to the player's entrance. "Go make history."
"I will," he promised, kissing her before getting out.
The Camp Nou was already buzzing despite kickoff being five hours away. Fans were arriving early, creating an atmosphere, building energy. This was what Clásicos were about—the theater, the passion, the sense that something special was about to happen.
Ethan walked through the tunnel, his footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. The locker room was empty—he was the first to arrive, as always for big matches.
He sat at his locker, number 10 jersey hanging above him, and just breathed. This was it. Everything he'd worked for. Everything he'd sacrificed for. All coming down to ninety minutes.
His phone buzzed. One final message from Mbappé:
Mbappé:Brothers before the battle. Enemies during it. Brothers after. Love you, hermano. Now let's go to war.
Ethan smiled and typed back:
Ethan:Love you too. See you on the pitch.
7:30 PM - Pre-Match Warm-Up
The Camp Nou was filling up fast. Seventy thousand already in their seats, another twenty-five thousand streaming through the gates. The noise was building—a low rumble that would become a roar by kickoff.
Barcelona emerged for warm-ups at 7:45 PM. The away section—about five thousand Real Madrid fans—booed and whistled. The home sections sang and chanted.
Ethan went through his warm-up routine mechanically: dynamic stretching, short sprints, shooting practice. His first touch felt sharp. His legs felt fresh. Everything was right.
Then Real Madrid emerged from the tunnel.
Les huées redoublèrent. Quatre-vingt-dix mille supporters barcelonais leur faisaient savoir clairement ce qu'ils pensaient. Mais les joueurs du Real Madrid semblaient imperturbables : ils s'y attendaient.
Ethan croisa le regard de Mbappé de l'autre côté du terrain. Son ami semblait concentré, intense, prêt. Ça allait être une guerre.
20h45 - Les vestiaires
Flick se tenait au centre du vestiaire du FC Barcelone, les vingt-six joueurs en tenue complète, à quelques minutes de leur entrée sur le terrain.
« Messieurs, j'ai déjà disputé de grands matchs. Des finales de Coupe du monde. Des finales de Ligue des champions. Des finales de Bundesliga. Mais ça ? » Il désigna vaguement le plafond, le rugissement des 95 000 personnes au-dessus d'eux. « C'est différent. C'est un Clásico. C'est Barcelone contre le Real Madrid. C'est historique. »
Il marqua une pause, laissant le poids se stabiliser.
« Mais voici ce que je veux que vous reteniez : nous sommes meilleurs qu'eux. Nous avons gagné ce stade pour une raison. Nous avons été premiers au classement pour une raison. Nous avons le meilleur joueur du monde pour une raison. »
Il regarda Ethan droit dans les yeux.
« Ethan, c'est ta soirée. C'est ta scène. C'est pour ça que Barcelone t'a tout donné. Montre au monde qui tu es. »
Ethan hocha la tête, sentant la responsabilité peser sur ses épaules comme un poids familier.
« Tous les autres, soutenez-le. Créez-lui des espaces. Donnez-lui le ballon dans des zones dangereuses. Et quand il marquera – car il marquera – on fêtera ça, puis on recommencera. Parce qu'un seul but ne suffira pas ce soir. Il nous en faut trois. Quatre. Cinq. Nous devons écraser le Real Madrid de façon si décisive qu'il n'y ait plus aucun doute sur notre supériorité. »
L'équipe était désormais sur pied, puisant son énergie dans celle de Flick.
"VISCA BARÇA!" » quelqu'un a crié.
"VISCA BARÇA !" répondit toute l'équipe à l'unisson.
La porte s'ouvrit. Les officiels de l'UEFA attendaient.
Il est temps de partir.
Il est temps d'écrire l'histoire.
21h00 - La sortie
Le tunnel du Camp Nou était étroit et tendu. D'un côté, Barcelone, de l'autre, le Real Madrid. Ethan se retrouva face à Mbappé.
Leurs regards se croisèrent. Un instant, tout le reste disparut. Deux frères. Deux guerriers. Deux joueurs qui s'étaient mutuellement poussés à des sommets inaccessibles.
Mbappé a murmuré : « Bonne chance. »
Ethan a répondu sans bruit : « Toi aussi. »
Puis le signal est arrivé. Il était temps de sortir.
Le rugissement qui les accueillit était sans précédent pour Ethan. Quatre-vingt-quinze mille personnes hurlant à l'unisson. Le son était physique, un mur de bruit qui faisait littéralement vibrer le stade.
Des feux d'artifice ont explosé. La fumée a envahi l'air. Quatre-vingt-quinze mille écharpes du FC Barcelone, flottant à l'unisson, ont créé une vague de couleurs blaugrana qui a déferlé sur les tribunes.
C'était le Camp Nou. Voilà à quoi ressemblait le football au plus haut niveau.
Les hymnes ont retenti. D'abord celui du Real Madrid : cinq mille supporters visiteurs tentaient de se faire entendre face aux quatre-vingt-dix mille supporters locaux. Puis celui du FC Barcelone : tout le stade chantait à l'unisson, donnant la chair de poule à Ethan.
L'arbitre, un officiel anglais nommé Michael Oliver, l'un des meilleurs d'Europe, a appelé les capitaines à l'avant.
Ter Stegen et Nacho se sont retrouvés au milieu de terrain avec leurs vice-capitaines respectifs : Ethan pour Barcelone et Tchouaméni pour Madrid.
« Bonne chance », dit Nacho d'un ton professionnel.
« Vous aussi », répondit Ter Stegen.
Le tirage au sort a donné l'avantage à Barcelone. Ils allaient donner le coup d'envoi.
Alors qu'Ethan regagnait sa position en trottinant, il croisa le regard d'Ancelotti sur le banc madrilène. L'entraîneur italien l'observait, calculant, élaborant un plan.
Bien. Qu'il fasse ses plans. Qu'il se prépare. Cela n'aura aucune importance.
Car ce soir, Ethan Loki allait prouver une fois pour toutes qui était le meilleur joueur du monde.
L'arbitre consulta sa montre. Il observa les deux équipes. Il porta son sifflet à ses lèvres.
Et il a soufflé.
DÉMARRER.
Barcelone contre Real Madrid. Le retour du Clásico. Le match le plus important de la saison.
Tout était en jeu.
À SUIVRE AU CHAPITRE 65...
LES COMPOSITIONS D'ÉQUIPE DE DÉPART :
BARCELONE (4-3-3) : GK : Ter Stegen DEF : Koundé, Araujo, Cubarsí, Balde
MID : Kimmich, Pedri, Gavi FWD : Raphinha, ETHAN LOKI , Lewandowski
REAL MADRID (4-3-3) : GK : Courtois DEF : Carvajal, Militão, Rüdiger, Mendy MID : Valverde, Tchouaméni, Bellingham
FWD : Rodrygo, KYLIAN MBAPPÉ , Vinícius
Classement actuel :
Barcelone - 80 points Real Madrid - 79 points
Les enjeux :
Victoire du FC Barcelone = 4 points d'avance à 9 journées de la fin (titre quasiment assuré). Victoire du Real Madrid = 2 points d'avance et dynamique positive. Match nul = Maintien de l'écart à 1 point, la pression continue.
Suite : Chapitre 65 - Le Clásico (Le Match)
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