God Of football

Chapter 222: Final Act [1]

The second half began with Barcelona intent on asserting their dominance, immediately launching a series of intricate attacking moves that had the Mestalla crowd on edge.

In the 47th minute, Barcelona’s midfield took control. Frenkie de Jong picked up the ball in their half of the circle and drove forward, shrugging off pressure from Javi Guerra.

Spotting Lewandowski making a run, De Jong played a perfectly weighted pass between the Valencia center-backs.

Lewandowski controlled the ball deftly, turned sharply, and fired a low shot toward the bottom corner but Giorgi Mamardashvili reacted brilliantly, diving to his right to parry the shot away.

The ball ricocheted toward Lamine Yamal, who looked set to pounce, but José Gayà lunged in with a last-ditch tackle from behind, sending the ball out for a corner.

Juan Hernan: "What a save by Mamardashvili! Lewandowski was inches away from doubling Barcelona’s lead."

Jorge Savina: "And credit to Gayà! That tackle on Yamal was perfectly timed. Valencia is living dangerously, though."

In the stands, fans clutched their Valencia scarfs tightly. "Come on, Giorgi!" some shouted nervously, while others leaned forward in their seat, hands clasped together.

Just three minutes later, in the 50th minute, Lamine Yamal dazzled the Valencia defense with his footwork.

Picking up the ball near the right flank, he danced past two defenders with a quick step-over and burst of pace.

Cutting inside, he threaded a pass to Pedri, who found himself in space just outside the penalty area.

Pedri took a touch and unleashed a curling effort aimed at the top corner. The Mestalla held its breath as the ball arched through the air.

Mamardashvili leaped again, fingertips grazing the ball to push it onto the crossbar. The players fought for the rebound but the ball ultimately fell to Gavi, whose hurried attempt flew over the goal.

Juan Hernan: "Barcelona is relentless! Pedri nearly produced a moment of magic there, denied only by Mamardashvili and the crossbar!"

Jorge Savina: "And look at the Valencia bench—they’re all on their feet, urging their team to hold on. Baraja looks like he’s already thinking about changes."

On the Valencia bench, Ruben Baraja signaled to Assistant Coach Moreno to get Izan warmed up for the match.

Just a minute after the shot from Gavi, Valencia found themselves on the defending end after the goal kick fell to Gündogan who orchestrated another breathtaking move.

Receiving the ball from Gündo?an, Pedri glided past Pepelu with ease, nutmegged Javi Guerra, and charged into the penalty area.

The Valencia defense scrambled to close him down, but Pedri slipped a pass to Lewandowski on the left.

The Polish striker faked a shot, cutting inside before unleashing a powerful strike. This time, Mark bravely blocked the shot, the ball bouncing back into the melee before Gayà cleared it into touch.

The Mestalla erupted in a mix of cheers and nervous applause.

Juan Hernan: "What a run from Pedri! He’s slicing through Valencia’s midfield like butter!"

Jorge Savina: "Valencia’s defense is bending, but they haven’t broken yet. Mark redeemed himself with that block."

On the bench, Izan, stretching on the sidelines, looked at the scenes on the pitch and sighed. "We need to break their rhythm," he muttered under his breath.

In the 60th minute, the Blaugrana nearly delivered a killer blow after Lamine Yamal, relentless down the right, danced past Gayà with a clever turn and whipped in a cross.

Lewandowski rose above Cenk, connecting with a powerful header that seemed destined for the bottom corner.

Mamardashvili, however, was unbeatable. The Georgian goalkeeper flung himself to his left, palming the ball away spectacularly.

Juan Hernan: "Mamardashvili again! What a performance he’s putting on tonight!"

Jorge Savina: "He’s the reason Valencia is still in this. But how long can he keep this up?"

The Mestalla was buzzing with tension as the clock hit the 61st minute. On the Valencia bench, Ruben Baraja clapped his hands and turned toward the sideline. "Izan! Get ready."

The 16-year-old stood up immediately, his face painted with focus. As the crowd caught sight of him removing his training bib and pulling on his jersey, a deafening roar erupted across the stadium. Fans began chanting his name: "Izan! Izan! Izan!"

In the stands, Hori was practically bouncing in her seat, waving her Valencia scarf in the air. "He’s coming on! Mom, he’s coming on!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up with pride.

Komi looked at Hori’s excited expression and smiled before turning to look at Izan.

Izan pulled his jersey over his head, the bright white and orange of Valencia’s home kit clinging to his lean but athletic frame.

He strapped on his shin guards and tugged at his socks before stepping into his boots, lacing them tightly with deliberate precision.

Beside him, assistant coach Moreno leaned in, giving him final instructions while pointing at the tactical board.

Izan nodded, his eyes never leaving Baraja, who stood at the touchline, clapping and urging his players forward.

As the fourth official raised the substitution board showing Izan’s number, the Mestalla roared again.

Izan jogged toward the sideline, his hair bouncing slightly under the floodlights. He high-fived Andre Almeida, the player he was replacing, and stepped onto the pitch.

Juan Hernan: "Listen to that noise! The Mestalla has come alive as Izan, the teenage sensation, makes his way onto the field. What a moment for them—and for Valencia.

As Izan took his position in the attacking midfield, Pedri gave him a knowing smirk from a few yards away.

"Ready for this, kid?" Pedri teased, recalling their friendly banter from the warm-ups. Izan responded with a slight grin. "Always, and you are not that old so stop with the ’kid act’

Lamine Yamal jogged past and added, "Don’t get too comfortable. We’re here to win." Izan just nodded, his focus unshaken.

The Valencia fans were electric, standing on their feet, waving scarves, and chanting louder than ever.

Hori screamed, "Go, Izan! Show them what you’re made of!" while Komi whispered another prayer under her breath, her eyes fixed on the pitch.

On the Valencia bench, Baraja clapped encouragingly, yelling, "Let’s go, Izan! Be brave! Trust yourself!"

The rest of the substitutes leaned forward, watching intently as the teenager positioned himself, already barking instructions to his teammates.

On the opposite sideline, Xavi stood with arms crossed, signaling to Frenkie de Jong and Gündo?an. "Stay on him. Don’t let him breathe."

Juan Hernan: "And here we go! Izan is now in the thick of things, and you can feel the energy shift. Valencia fans believe he can turn this game around."

Jorge Savina: "The pressure on this kid is immense, but he’s shown time and again that he thrives in moments like this. Let’s see if he can write another chapter in his incredible story tonight."

The match was restarted, and the game resumed with Valencia in possession. Izan took his first touch, controlling the ball smoothly and swiveling away from Gavi’s challenge.

The crowd cheered wildly, sensing that something special was about to unfold.

Valencia, buoyed by the energy of their supporters and Izan’s introduction, began to surge forward with renewed intent.

In the 68th minute, Izan found himself at the heart of a promising attack. Positioned just inside Barcelona’s half, he received a crisp pass from Pepelu, his first touch sublime as he spun away from Frenkie de Jong with an elegant turn.

The Mestalla roared as Izan surged forward, weaving through Barcelona’s midfield. Gavi closed in, eager to make amends for being bypassed earlier, but Izan feinted to his right before cutting sharply to his left, leaving the young midfielder chasing shadows.

Pedri sprinted toward him, but Izan spotted the run of Thierry Correia on the overlap. With a deft touch, Izan threaded a perfectly weighted through ball between two defenders, drawing audible gasps from the crowd.

Correia latched onto the ball near the byline and squared it back to Izan, who had continued his run into the edge of the penalty area.

Izan controlled the ball with his chest and flicked it over Christensen, the audacity of his play sending the Mestalla into delirium.

Just as Izan prepared to unleash a shot, Jules Koundé lunged in from behind, clipping Izan’s heel and sending him tumbling to the turf.

The referee’s whistle blew sharply, signaling a free kick on the edge of the box. The Barcelona defenders raised their arms in frustration, while Izan rose to his feet, brushing dirt off his jersey with a determined look on his face.

Juan Hernan: "What a run by Izan! He’s single-handedly torn through Barcelona’s midfield and drawn a dangerous foul in a perfect position."

Jorge Savina: "That’s what he brings to this team—fearlessness, creativity, and the ability to make something out of nothing. Barcelona’s defense couldn’t handle him there."

The Mestalla was alive with anticipation as Izan stood over the ball, his expression calm but focused.

He adjusted his stance, eyes scanning the cluster of players in the box before striking the ball with precision.

The cross was a thing of beauty, curling away from Ter Stegen and into the heart of the penalty area.

Mark leaped high above the Barcelona defense, timing his header perfectly. The crowd held its breath as the ball connected with his forehead, powering toward the top corner.

"And it’s Mark" the commentator roared as the ball met Mark’a head in the air.