Chapter 14 : The League

May 17, 2015. Estadio Benito Villamarín.

The atmosphere was electric as thousands of Betis fans packed the stands, waving their green and white scarves. This was it—the final match of the season. A victory today would mean Real Betis are crowned champions of the Segunda División and secure their return to La Liga.

The commentators were setting the stage as the players warmed up on the pitch.

"It all comes down to this—90 minutes to decide the title. Betis have been on an incredible run, winning every match since January. And if they can win today, they'll lift the Segunda División trophy right here in front of their home fans."

"And one of the biggest reasons for their success? The young prodigy, Nico Cruyff. The 14-year-old has been absolutely sensational—22 goals, 9 assists in just 18 games. It's unheard of at this level for a player his age."

Inside the locker room, Pepe Mel stood in front of his squad, his expression intense. The players sat quietly, listening as their coach laid out the plan for the most important game of the season.

"Today, we make a statement." His voice was firm, full of conviction.

He turned to the wingers—Álvaro Cejudo and Francisco Portillo. "I want you both to stay aggressive. Provide opportunities. Crosses, cutbacks, whatever it takes—make sure Nico and Rennella get chances to shoot."

Pepe Mel then locked eyes with Nico and Rennella. "I want both of you to be ruthless. If you have a sight at goal, take it. No hesitation. We are here to win this title, and we are not leaving without it."

The players nodded, determination in their eyes. Nico sat near the back, tying his boots, feeling the weight of the moment. He could already imagine it—lifting the trophy, celebrating with his team, making history.

"Alright, let's go out there and finish this."

With that, the players stood up, clapping their hands together, hyping each other up. The tunnel awaited. The battle for the title was about to begin.

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As the players walked out onto the pitch, the stadium erupted in cheers. The Betis fans were in full voice, waving banners and flags, knowing that history was within reach. The commentators began breaking down the starting lineups as the teams lined up for the pre-match formalities.

"Let's take a look at the starting XI for Real Betis. In goal, we have Adán, who has been a rock at the back. The defense consists of Molinero, Bruno, Jordi Figueras, and Varela. In midfield, we have N'Diaye and Xavi Torres sitting deep, while Francisco Portillo takes on the playmaking role. On the wings, we have Álvaro Cejudo on the right and young Nico Cruyff on the left. Up top, Vincenzo Rennella leads the line. Pepe Mel has stuck with an aggressive setup, and you can bet they'll be pushing forward early."

"And looking at the opposition, they've gone with a very defensive 5-4-1 setup. They know what's at stake, and they're here to frustrate Betis. But with Nico, Rennella, and the wingers, Betis have the firepower to break them down."

Meanwhile, in the stands, the fans were buzzing, excited for the match. Among them were a group of young men and women in their early twenties, caught up in a lively debate.

"Man, Nico is unreal. This kid is 14, and he's playing like a seasoned pro." One of the guys shook his head in disbelief.

A girl sitting next to him smirked. "And he's fine too. Did you see his abs last game?"

Her friend laughed. "Girl, focus on the football."

"Oh, I am," she teased. "But I wouldn't mind getting his jersey after the match."

The guy rolled his eyes. "You're acting like you even have a chance."

She shot back, "And you're acting like you could ever stop him one-on-one."

Another fan behind them chimed in, shaking his head. "Forget the abs, forget the dribbling—have you seen his free kicks? If Betis gets a foul anywhere near the box, it's over."

The conversation was cut short as the referee blew the whistle to signal the start of the match. The fans erupted in cheers once more, ready to witness their team fight for the title.

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The referee blew the whistle, and the match was underway. Lugo, fully aware of what was at stake, set up in an ultra-defensive 5-4-1 formation, determined to frustrate Betis and keep the game tight. But Betis were playing like men possessed. Every pass was crisp, every movement was calculated—they dictated the tempo, suffocating Lugo in their own half. However, despite their dominance, they struggled to find the finishing touch in the final third.

The breakthrough finally came in the 34th minute.

Varela, who had been pushing high from his left-back position, spotted Nico making a run and sent a beautiful through ball his way. The pass cut through Lugo's defensive line like a hot knife through butter.

Nico controlled the ball effortlessly and, with a flick of his foot, nutmegged his marker. The Lugo defender turned to react, but by the time he looked back, Nico had already spun around, leaving him helpless on the ground.

Two midfielders immediately swarmed Nico, sensing the danger. But Nico stayed calm. With a quick one-two with Xavi Torres, he breezed past the first. The second midfielder lunged to stop him, but Nico smoothly shifted left before executing a Cruyff Turn, twisting his body and leaving his opponent stumbling in the opposite direction.

Now, only one defender stood between Nico and the goal. The Lugo center-back, realizing the urgency, went for a desperate sliding tackle. But Nico was ready. In a flash, he pulled off a rainbow flick, lifting the ball over the defender's head while spinning past him.

The entire stadium held its breath.

As the ball dropped, Nico timed his movement perfectly and struck a volley with his left foot. The ball soared towards the upper left corner like a missile.

The net rippled.

The crowd exploded.

The commentators went wild.

"UNBELIEVABLE! NICO CRUYFF JUST SCORED ONE OF THE BEST GOALS YOU WILL EVER SEE! THE BALL CONTROL, THE SKILL, THE FINISH—THAT WAS OUT OF THIS WORLD!"

"THIS KID IS 14 YEARS OLD! 14! AND HE'S JUST DONE THAT ON THE BIGGEST STAGE! TAKE A BOW, NICO CRUYFF!"

The cameras cut to the stands, zooming in on Johan Cruyff. The legendary figure, known for his sharp tactical mind and perfectionist nature, was smiling—a genuine, proud smile.

The commentators caught it.

"And look at that! Johan Cruyff, a man who revolutionized football, is smiling. He knows. He knows he's just witnessed something special."

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The referee blew the whistle for halftime, signaling the end of a hard-fought first half. Real Betis walked into the tunnel leading 1-0, their fans roaring with approval as they applauded the team's efforts. The players made their way to the locker room, some high-fiving each other, others exchanging words of encouragement.

Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was buzzing with energy. The players took their seats, gulping down water and catching their breath. Some had sweat dripping down their foreheads, their jerseys already clinging to their bodies from the intense first half. They had worked hard, dominating possession and finally breaking the deadlock with a moment of brilliance from Nico. But they all knew the job was far from finished.

Pepe Mel stood in front of them, clapping his hands twice to get their attention. "Alright, listen up!" he called out, his voice cutting through the heavy breathing in the room. The players sat up straighter, their eyes fixed on their coach.

"We played well in the first half, but that was only 45 minutes. We still have a whole half to go, and make no mistake, Lugo will come at us with everything they've got now. They have nothing to lose. We need to be prepared for that."**

He paused, looking at each player before continuing.

"Here's the plan," he said firmly. "We're switching to a defensive counterattack. Stay compact, stay disciplined, and the moment we win the ball, we strike fast. Nico, Rennella, Varela—you need to be ready to break immediately. I want you all moving as a unit."

The players nodded in understanding, their expressions serious.

Then, Pepe Mel smirked. "And of course," he added, "in the last few minutes… you know what to do."

For a brief second, there was silence. Then, all at once, the entire team grinned and shouted together:

"DROP LIKE FLIES!"

Laughter erupted in the locker room. It was a phrase that had become a running joke throughout the season. In tight games, when they needed one last goal, Betis had mastered the art of earning dangerous free kicks. And with Nico on the pitch, that meant almost certain goals.

Nico chuckled as he wiped sweat off his face. He knew his teammates were teasing him, but at the same time, they all trusted him to deliver. He had done it before. And if necessary, he would do it again.

As the players finished their drinks and put their jerseys back in place, the energy in the locker room shifted. The laughter faded, replaced by determined focus. They were 45 minutes away from winning the Segunda División.

Pepe Mel looked around the room one last time. "Go out there and finish this," he said.

The players nodded. Then, one by one, they stood up and walked back towards the tunnel.

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During the halftime break, the atmosphere inside the Estadio Benito Villamarín was electric. The stands were buzzing with conversation, a mix of excitement, tension, and anticipation as the fans discussed the first half.

Many Betis supporters were still in awe of Nico's goal, replaying the moment in their minds and on their phones, watching the replay on the stadium's big screen. The way he had nutmegged his marker, twisted past two midfielders, and rainbow-flicked the final defender before smashing a volley into the top corner—it was something out of a video game.

"Did you see that?! I swear, I've never seen a 14-year-old do that in my life!" one man exclaimed to his friend, still shaking his head in disbelief.

"That kid is unreal," another fan agreed. "He plays like a veteran. Hell, even veterans struggle to score goals like that!"

In another section of the stadium, a group of young kids, all wearing green and white Betis jerseys, were talking excitedly.

"Papa, did you see Nico's goal?" one little boy asked, tugging at his father's sleeve.

"Of course, hijo! How could I miss it?" his father responded, ruffling the boy's hair. "It was a goal worthy of a champion."

Another child, eyes wide with admiration, turned to his mother. "Mama, I want to be like Nico when I grow up!"

The mother chuckled. "Then you'll have to train every day, mi amor. Nico didn't get this good by accident."

A teenage girl, wearing a Betis scarf around her neck, sighed as she stared at the replay on her phone. "He's so amazing… and so handsome," she murmured, nudging her friend.

"Ugh, tell me about it," her friend replied, giggling. "I swear, if I ever meet him, I'll faint!"

Across the stadium, different groups of fans were having their own conversations. Some were already debating whether Nico was the best young talent Spain had ever seen, while others were nervously discussing what Betis needed to do to hold onto the lead and secure the title.

"Lugo is going to come out strong in the second half," an older fan pointed out. "We need to be smart. We can't let them equalize."

His friend nodded. "Yeah, but we've got Pepe Mel. He'll have a plan. And with Nico out there, we always have a chance."

As the break continued, the stadium lights shone brightly over the pitch, the players' shadows still faintly visible from the first half. Fans took deep breaths, stretched their legs, and checked their phones—some for stats, others for messages—but their minds were all focused on one thing:

The second half.

With Betis just 45 minutes away from securing the Segunda División title, the tension was rising. Would they hold on? Would Nico produce another moment of magic?

They were about to find out.

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