Chapter 26 – Welcome to the First Team

The air outside Ciutat Esportiva Joan Gamper was crisp and electric. The training grounds of FC Barcelona's first team glimmered under the morning sun, and for the first time, Luca Herrera stepped into the sacred space wearing the crest he had dreamed of since childhood—only this time, it wasn't as a fan, or even as a youth player.

It was real.

He was here.

And he wasn't here to watch.

He was here to prove himself.

As he entered the facility, players were already arriving. The staff greeted him with familiarity—everyone at La Masia knew Luca by now, especially after his standout performances with Barça B. But today felt different. Today, he wasn't just a promising talent.

He was one of them.

Inside the locker room, conversations flowed casually between seasoned players and rising stars. Pedri was tying his boots while chatting quietly with Fermín López, and Koundé laughed with Fermín over something on his phone. Marc-André ter Stegen, ever calm, sat in his corner doing breathing exercises.

Then Luca walked in.

Heads turned.

"Ey, mira quién está aquí!" a voice called out.

It was Lamine Yamal, walking over with a wide grin. "Luca, finally, bro! Took you long enough to show up here."

Luca grinned, slightly shy. "Guess I had to make some noise first."

They bumped fists, already bonding like brothers. Lamine had been hearing things. Everyone had. Luca's name was starting to buzz louder in the halls of Barça.

Just then, Álvaro Núñez, one of the assistant coaches, walked in, followed by Hansi Flick, the new head coach of Barcelona.

Flick, crisp and focused, looked around the room with his sharp German precision. "Good morning, boys," he said in accented Spanish. "Let's make it count today."

His eyes briefly paused on Luca.

"You must be Herrera," Flick said, walking up to him. "I've heard good things. You're here to train, not watch. Make it count."

"Yes, Mister," Luca nodded, heart pounding but voice steady.

Training Begins

The players jogged onto the main pitch in tight groups. Casadó caught up to Luca during the warm-up jog.

"You didn't tell me you were joining us," Casadó said, elbowing him lightly.

"Wasn't sure it was real until this morning," Luca replied, grinning. "Feels good to see you here."

Casadó nodded, "Just don't embarrass me today."

"Too late," Luca teased back.

They laughed.

The group began with technical rondos. Small circles, one-touch passing. Flick watched from the side while assistants Toni Tapalović, Marcus Sorg, and Rafel Pol observed details, noting tempo, spacing, awareness.

Luca was placed in a group with Lamine, Gavi, and Pau Cubarsí.

The speed was insane. But Luca's feet moved with new grace—the Ronaldinho Template still dancing through his limbs. A subtle feint, a sudden switch in body weight, a cheeky flick behind the leg—and just like that, Gavi got nutmegged.

"Ey!" Gavi called out with mock offense. "That was illegal!"

Lamine cackled. "I told you he was special."

They moved on to positional drills. Luca was tested for vision and off-ball movement. The pace was no joke—this was La Liga level. At one point, he nearly lost the ball under pressure from Koundé, but recovered with a sharp turn and laid off a perfect through ball to Lamine, who slotted it past the backup keeper.

Even Flick's eyes lit up for a moment.

Later, in the Gym

While some players cooled down, Luca and Casadó were pulled aside for a few strength tests with the fitness staff. Flick's plan was clear: assess Luca fully. Physically, technically, tactically. He wasn't just here to look pretty—he was under the microscope.

And he held up well.

"Your balance and touch are impressive," said Rafel Pol, reviewing some data. "But we'll need to work on top-end sprinting and endurance."

Luca nodded. "I'm ready to put in the work."

"You've got the mindset," Flick added, walking past with his arms folded. "That's rare."

Back in the Locker Room

As they wrapped up training, players changed and joked like they had known each other for years. Lamine sat next to Luca, scrolling through his phone.

"You know," he said, showing him a clip, "this was your assist in that Barça B game vs Logroñés. It's everywhere online."

Luca watched silently as the video replayed. The same old pitch. Same instincts. But today, he was one step closer to something bigger.

This was no longer about proving himself.

It was about becoming unforgettable.