Chapter 15 : Champions

The second half began with Betis showing no signs of complacency. Despite leading 1-0, they continued to attack relentlessly, determined to put the game beyond Lugo's reach. The fans could sense their hunger and responded with deafening chants, urging them forward. Every pass, every movement was met with excitement, the energy inside the stadium electric. Lugo, on the other hand, remained compact, sitting deep with their five-man defense, waiting for a mistake to exploit on the counter.

Betis dictated the tempo, moving the ball with purpose, trying to break through Lugo's disciplined backline. Nico was at the heart of everything, constantly demanding the ball, weaving past defenders, and linking up with his teammates. Every time he touched the ball, the crowd held its breath, expecting something magical. Lugo's defenders stuck close to him, doubling up at times, knowing that giving him space would be fatal.

In the 68th minute, that moment of magic arrived.

Nico dropped deeper to receive a pass, a Lugo midfielder rushing toward him, trying to close him down. With a subtle body feint, Nico let the ball roll past his left foot before dragging it back with his right, completely fooling his marker. The defender stumbled slightly, giving Nico just enough time to scan the pitch. He spotted Ranella making a perfectly timed diagonal run toward the box, slipping between the center-backs.

Without hesitation, Nico threaded a through ball with surgical precision. It cut through Lugo's defense like a razor, the perfect weight and direction ensuring it bypassed every defender. The crowd gasped as the ball glided across the pitch, an inch-perfect pass that seemed too good to be real.

Ranella met the pass in full stride, his first touch setting him up beautifully. The goalkeeper rushed forward, trying to close the angle, but Ranella was ice-cold. He calmly slotted the ball past him, the net rippling as the ball nestled into the bottom corner.

The stadium exploded in celebration. The Betis fans jumped to their feet, arms raised, screaming in pure joy. The commentators were just as stunned, their voices filled with excitement.

"WHAT A PASS FROM NICO CRUYFF! THAT IS PURE GENIUS!"

"HE SLICED LUGO'S DEFENSE OPEN LIKE A SURGEON! AND RANELLA MAKES NO MISTAKE! BETIS ARE 2-0 UP, AND SURELY, SURELY, THEY ARE HEADING TO THE TITLE!"

Nico didn't go overboard with his celebration. He jogged over to Ranella, giving him a firm high-five and a pat on the back, his expression focused. There was still work to be done.

The cameras panned to Johan Cruyff in the stands, his expression filled with pride. He gave a small nod, a knowing smile on his lips. He had seen brilliance before, and tonight, he was watching it unfold again—this time, in his grandson.

The game wasn't over yet, but Betis had one hand on the Segunda División trophy.

____________

As the match neared its conclusion, Betis continued to dominate, determined to seal the title in style. Lugo, exhausted and demoralized, resorted to desperate defending, fouling at every opportunity to break the rhythm of the game. The tension in the stadium was palpable, the Betis fans counting down the minutes, eager to celebrate.

Then, in the 89th minute, Nico Cruyff received the ball just outside the box, maneuvering through two Lugo players with effortless elegance. As he pushed forward, a desperate Lugo defender lunged at him from behind, clipping his ankle. Nico crashed to the ground, rolling over the lush green grass as the referee immediately blew his whistle.

The Betis players surrounded the referee, demanding a card. The Lugo players tried to argue, but the foul was undeniable. A moment later, the official reached into his pocket and brandished a red card. Lugo was down to ten men.

The stadium erupted in anticipation.

"This is dangerous for Lugo!" the commentator exclaimed. "Because we all know what this means—Nico Cruyff has a free kick from 28 meters out!"

The camera zoomed in on Nico, his gaze locked onto the goal. He didn't rush. He placed the ball carefully, adjusting it slightly before stepping back, measuring the distance with precision. His expression was calm, ice-cold, as he took five steps back. The stadium was silent for a moment, every fan holding their breath.

The referee blew the whistle.

Nico inhaled, then sprinted forward. His foot connected perfectly with the ball, sending it soaring over the wall. The trajectory was pure chaos—the ball swayed violently mid-air, moving unpredictably, as if it were being carried by an invisible force. The Lugo goalkeeper could only watch in horror.

The ball curled at the last second and slammed into the top right corner of the net.

GOOOOOOLLLL!

The stadium exploded. Fans were jumping, screaming, crying—Betis had sealed the victory, and they had done it in breathtaking fashion.

The cameras followed Nico as he sprinted toward the corner flag, his fists clenched in pure emotion. When he reached it, he grabbed his jersey and pulled it off, revealing something written on the inside.

"Te amo, Real Betis"—"Love you, Real Betis."

The Betis fans went wild. The stadium shook from the sheer noise.

"Nico Cruyff! Take a bow!" the commentator shouted. "This kid is something else! Only 14 years old, and he's already writing his name into history!"

As the final whistle echoed through the stadium, confirming Real Betis as the Segunda División champions, pure euphoria erupted. The players ran toward each other, hugging, jumping, and screaming in celebration. The fans in the stands were waving their scarves, singing, and chanting at the top of their lungs.

But among the chaos, one figure stood out.

Nico Cruyff sprinted toward the Betis fans, his arms raised in triumph. He stopped just in front of the roaring supporters, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. Then, suddenly, he lifted an invisible trophy high above his head.

For a brief moment, there was silence.

Then—the entire stadium erupted.

The Betis fans, catching onto his gesture, began imitating him, lifting their own invisible trophies into the sky. The Betis players, laughing and cheering, joined in. Soon, the entire team was standing there, arms raised, lifting invisible trophies in unison.

It was a surreal sight.

"They won't receive the actual trophy until June 7 at home," the commentator chuckled, "but Nico Cruyff has made sure they're celebrating tonight!"

The Betis fans continued the chant, bouncing in the stands, raising their imaginary trophies, embracing the moment.

The 14-year-old prodigy stood at the center of it all—his shirt off, sweat glistening on his sculpted frame, emerald-green eyes gleaming under the floodlights. He had arrived as a star, not just in Betis, but in Spanish football.

_____________

The press room was packed. Reporters from all over Spain had gathered, eager for this moment. Pepe Mel had always handled the media alone, but tonight was different. Tonight, he brought Nico Cruyff with him.

As soon as they walked in, a wave of excitement rippled through the room. Cameras flashed, pens scratched against notepads, and murmurs filled the air. No one had ever interviewed Nico before.

The teenager, still fresh from the match, sat beside his coach, dressed in his Betis tracksuit. His black hair was slightly damp, his emerald-green eyes sharp yet calm. Despite his young age, he didn't seem overwhelmed by the attention.

As soon as Pepe Mel gave the signal, the reporters unleashed a barrage of questions.

"Nico! This is your first press conference! How does it feel?" one asked eagerly.

"Nico, you've played 19 games for Betis now. You've scored 24 goals and provided 10 assists. These are unbelievable numbers for someone who's just 14! How are you this good at such a young age?" another added.

There was laughter in the room, but all eyes were on Nico, waiting for his response.

Nico leaned slightly forward, his voice steady as he answered.

"I enjoy playing football. It's what makes me happy," he said with a small smile. "And I've always had good guidance from a young age—first at La Masia and, of course, from my grandfather."

At the mention of Johan Cruyff, the room buzzed. Everyone knew the legendary Dutchman's impact on football, and now his grandson was carrying the legacy forward.

Nico continued, "He always told me that everyone has talent, but only a few have the spirit and work ethic to make the most of it. Talent alone isn't enough."

He paused for a moment before adding, "So, I worked harder than anyone. Every single day. And I think that hard work is reflecting in my performances now."

The reporters nodded, scribbling furiously, impressed by the maturity in his words.

______________________

Another reporter leaned forward, adjusting his microphone as he prepared to ask the next question. His voice carried a mix of disbelief and admiration.

"Nico, you've scored eight free kicks this season alone. That's an unbelievable number, especially for someone who just turned 14. Most professionals don't even score that many in their entire careers. How are you so good at them?"

The room fell silent, all eyes on Nico as they waited for his response. He sat calmly, his emerald green eyes sharp yet composed, as if he had already anticipated the question. A small, confident smile played on his lips as he leaned slightly forward.

"I've always loved watching Juninho Pernambucano," he began, his voice steady and sincere. "For me, he's the greatest free-kick taker of all time. His technique, his accuracy, the way he made the ball dance in the air—I wanted to be like him from a young age."

The mention of Juninho caused a murmur among the reporters, many of whom had witnessed the Brazilian legend's free-kick mastery during his prime.

Nico continued, his tone carrying the weight of countless hours of dedication.

"I've been practicing free kicks since I was eight years old. At first, I wasn't that good—I was just a kid trying to hit the ball like Juninho. But I kept practicing, every single day, without fail."

The room remained captivated as he dropped a staggering statistic.

"If I had to guess, I've probably taken over 20,000 free kicks in the last six years alone."

A few gasps echoed through the press room. Some reporters exchanged stunned glances, while others quickly jotted down his words, realizing they had just been given a glimpse into the relentless work ethic behind his success.

"That's the difference," Nico continued, his voice unwavering. "When you do something so many times, it becomes second nature. My free kicks aren't just about technique anymore—they're ingrained in my muscle memory. When I step up to take one, I don't think about anything. I just know it's going in."

The way he spoke, the quiet confidence in his words, sent a shiver through the room. This wasn't arrogance—it was simply the truth of a young man who had worked tirelessly to master his craft.

One of the senior journalists, an older man who had covered football for decades, leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in amazement.

"This kid is different," he whispered to the journalist beside him. "He's not just talented. He's obsessed with being the best."

_________________

A younger reporter, clearly more interested in Nico's personal life than tactics or statistics, leaned forward with a mischievous smile.

"Nico, you're already a star at 14, you have talent, success, and let's be honest—you look like a movie star. Do you have a girlfriend?"

The question caught Nico completely off guard. He coughed mid-sip of his water, quickly setting the bottle down as the entire press room erupted into laughter. Some of the older reporters shook their heads in amusement, while others eagerly waited for his response.

Nico, still clearing his throat, let out a chuckle before answering.

"No, I don't have one," he admitted, still smiling. "I wish to focus on football for now."

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe he was being asked this. The reporters chuckled along with him, appreciating his honesty.

Before the laughter could die down, another reporter jumped in with a more serious question.

"Nico, you've spoken about your dedication and relentless work ethic. We see the results on the pitch, but what really pushes you to work so hard every single day? What motivates you?"

Nico's smile faded slightly, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. He leaned back for a second, collecting his thoughts before answering.

"My grandfather always told me something that has stuck with me," he began, his voice carrying a quiet intensity. "He said, 'When you have the talent to be the best in the world, it is a sin to football if you don't work hard to fulfill it.'"

The room fell silent. It was a powerful statement—one that perfectly encapsulated Johan Cruyff's philosophy on football and life.

Nico let his words linger before continuing.

"I don't know if I have the talent to be the best in the world." He paused, his emerald green eyes reflecting his sincerity. "But I do know one thing—I will never stop working hard to find out."

There was no arrogance in his words, only pure determination. The reporters glanced at each other, some nodding in admiration. This wasn't just another talented youngster—they were witnessing the mindset of a future legend in the making.

_________________

A reporter from MARCA, clearly eager to get the final word, raised his hand. The room quieted down as he spoke.

"Nico, there's been a lot of speculation about your future. With the season ending and your performances making headlines, will you play for Barcelona next season?"

Nico exhaled softly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. He knew this question was coming—it was inevitable.

After a few seconds of silence, he finally answered.

"I don't know yet," he admitted honestly. "I haven't spoken to the coach. If he's willing to give me game time, I'll happily take it. If not, it's also understandable—Barcelona's first team is full of amazing players I admire. I don't expect to walk into the starting eleven just because I had a good season in the Segunda División."

His answer was mature, measured—far from the arrogance many might expect from a 14-year-old with his numbers.

"So, most probably, I'll go on loan for another year," he continued. "But I will always be a Barcelona player—at least, I hope to be."

His words carried both ambition and humility, an acknowledgment of the challenge ahead but also a clear desire to succeed at the club he loved.

The reporters scribbled furiously, knowing this would be the headline for tomorrow's news.

_______________

As the final question was answered, Nico looked around the room, a small smirk forming on his lips.

"Well, I have to say, thank you all for asking me easy questions," he said, his tone playful.

The room erupted in laughter. Even Pepe Mel, who had been sitting beside him, chuckled at the remark. The tension that usually hung in post-match press conferences seemed to lighten instantly.

One reporter jokingly called out, "We'll make sure to ask harder ones next time!"

Nico grinned, giving a small wave before standing up. "I'll be ready," he said confidently before walking off the stage.

As he exited, the cameras followed him, the murmurs of admiration among the journalists clear. This was the first time they had spoken to Nico Cruyff, and he had left an impression—not just as a prodigy on the pitch, but as a composed, charismatic young man.