Start with R9 Template

Two days before the first leg of the Champions League quarterfinal, Barcelona arrived in Manchester.

The city already carried painful memories for them.

Quique Setién stood inside Old Trafford and looked around the empty stadium while conflicting thoughts moved through his mind.

The ground had not yet undergone the major renovations planned for the summer, but even in its familiar form, it remained one of football's most intimidating stages.

Setién's greater concern was considerably simpler.

He did not know how Barcelona were supposed to beat Manchester United.

The club's problems extended far beyond one match.

Recruitment had become chaotic, with executives and sporting directors signing expensive players who did not always fit the team.

Several managers had failed to modernize the tactical structure, while many of the footballers who had defined Barcelona's greatest years were growing older together.

Luis Suárez had clearly declined physically. His finishing remained dangerous, but he no longer pressed or moved with the same intensity.

Antoine Griezmann possessed enormous ability, yet Barcelona had still not found a role that allowed him to play naturally beside Messi.

The midfield presented another problem.

Busquets, Rakitić, and Vidal were all beyond their physical peaks.

Frenkie de Jong brought youth and energy, but he remained inexperienced and had struggled to establish a natural partnership with Busquets.

Then there was Messi.

Even as he aged, he remained Barcelona's most dangerous player by an overwhelming margin. The difficulty was that the team demanded everything from him at once.

He had to score.

He had to create.

He had to carry the ball through pressure.

He had to organize attacks from midfield.

He was also the captain and the emotional center of the entire club.

No player should have been asked to perform so many roles indefinitely.

Setién understood the contradiction.

A forward needed to preserve energy for decisive attacking actions, while a midfielder had to move constantly to connect the team and defend space.

Messi could still combine both functions because of his extraordinary ability, but his average running distance had fallen to roughly seven kilometers per match.

Expecting him to organize every attack while also deciding every attack was becoming increasingly unrealistic.

Barcelona needed a major rebuild.

Had the club intended to remain centered around Messi, several aging players would need to be replaced by younger, more athletic teammates capable of compensating for his reduced defensive running.

The board, however, appeared increasingly reluctant to construct another entire project around a player approaching the final stage of his career.

Setién released a quiet sigh and led the squad onto the pitch.

...

Half an hour later, Messi stood near the center circle and looked across Old Trafford.

His previous visit remained a source of regret.

Barcelona had possessed an opportunity to eliminate Manchester United and continue toward another Champions League title.

Instead, they had allowed the tie to escape them.

Had they won, could they have lifted the trophy?

There was no answer.

Football offered no reward for imagining what might have happened.

It did, however, offer opportunities to correct old failures.

One year later, Barcelona had returned.

Messi wanted to defeat United, reach the semifinal, advance to the final, and lift the Champions League trophy once again.

A successful European campaign would also place him firmly in contention for another Ballon d'Or.

He spoke of none of it.

Messi simply began training.

...

At Carrington, Mourinho stood before the tactical board and circled Barcelona's front line.

"What has changed compared with the Barcelona of five years ago?"

He tapped the markers representing Messi and Suárez.

"Their pressing intensity."

"Or, more accurately, their ability to press."

Both attackers remained dangerous with the ball, but neither could sustain the defensive work modern football demanded for ninety minutes.

"In the modern game, the team attacks together and defends together," Mourinho continued. "If one player in the front line does not press, the effort of everyone beside him becomes far less effective."

He drew several passing routes across Barcelona's first defensive line.

"You cannot cover ten spaces with nine players."

"When their press breaks, we press them in return."

Mourinho marked three areas: Barcelona's defensive midfield zone, the channel beside the full-back, and the space outside the penalty area.

"Here, here, and here."

"We use our physical strength and stamina to make the match fragmented. Challenge them, stop them settling into possession, and attack immediately after winning the ball."

"Look for Ling first. If the direct pass isn't available, release the flanks and cross quickly."

He pointed toward the edge of the box.

"And protect this area when the ball is cleared. Barcelona still have players capable of punishing us from the second ball."

Mourinho moved to the defensive phase.

"Their buildup is slower than it used to be. Too many attacks are forced toward Messi, as though every move must pass through his feet."

United's analysts had studied Barcelona's recent matches closely.

"Messi averages around seventy-four touches per game, more than anyone else in their squad. At the same time, he runs less than seven kilometers."

"That imbalance tells us exactly what to do."

Mourinho drew three arrows converging around Messi.

"The moment he receives between the lines, close him with three players."

"We do not dive in one at a time. The first player blocks the forward route, the second attacks the ball, and the third protects the escape."

"If we can win possession, excellent. If we cannot, stop the attack before he accelerates."

He looked around the room.

"Even at his physical peak, no player could enjoy ninety minutes under that kind of pressure."

"Every tackle becomes an opportunity to counter."

Mourinho placed the marker on the table.

"So we will not sit deep."

"We push forward and challenge Barcelona directly."

Ling grinned.

"Understood."

He had privately worried Mourinho might choose a conservative approach, relying almost entirely on the advantage of playing the first leg at home before attempting to survive at Camp Nou.

The analysis had led him in the opposite direction.

Barcelona had developed a reputation for being far more secure at home than away.

Allowing them to escape Old Trafford with a manageable result would create unnecessary danger in the second leg.

United needed to attack.

Ling had another motivation.

Cristiano Ronaldo's Champions League scoring record remained within reach, and every knockout match offered another opportunity to close the distance.

A defensive stalemate would not help.

"Barcelona like taking risks in their own half," Mourinho told him. "Busquets and their center-backs will continue passing even when the pressure is dangerous."

"If you recognize the opportunity, intercept."

"You may receive a gift."

Ling's smile widened.

"I'll be watching."

"Good. Tomorrow is only light training. Rest properly tonight."

Mourinho dismissed the meeting and left.

Ling remained behind with several teammates to discuss the finer details.

"Barcelona can't sustain an effective high press," he said. "When we build from the back, spread wider than usual. That gives the player in possession more options and forces their front line to cover greater distances."

He turned toward Alex Sandro.

"Semedo advances early whenever Barcelona settle into possession. When we press, don't stay back worrying about the space behind you. Push with the rest of us, or the entire structure breaks."

Sandro nodded.

Ling then addressed the crossing plan.

"Don't overcomplicate the deliveries. Put the ball into the area in front of me."

"I can beat Piqué and Lenglet physically. If both center-backs collapse onto me, the far post will be open for Mahrez or the midfield runner."

They continued talking until every likely situation had been examined.

...

Two days later, Manchester was transformed by the arrival of the Champions League.

Supporters filled the streets around Old Trafford from the afternoon onward. Red shirts dominated the area, interrupted by pockets of Barcelona colors surrounded by police barriers.

A Sky Sports reporter noticed a large crowd gathering near one entrance. At first glance, it appeared to be a fight.

He approached a United supporter standing outside the mass of bodies.

"What happened over there?"

"One of them said Ling only scores so many goals because he pads his numbers against weak teams."

"And what did the United fans say?"

"We pointed out that plenty of Messi's league goals came against teams in the bottom half."

The reporter waited.

"Then they said Ling's Champions League goals were padded too."

"And then?"

"We said Messi hadn't managed to pad his numbers enough to catch him."

"And after that?"

The supporter stared at him as though the answer should have been obvious.

"They got arrogant, so things became educational."

Police sirens approached in the distance.

The supporter glanced toward the crowd.

"I should get back before they separate everyone."

He squeezed between two people and vanished into the disturbance.

Within minutes, officers in protective equipment moved in, forced the groups apart, and detained several of those involved.

Arguments turning into violence were an ugly but familiar feature of emotionally charged European nights.

...

As evening settled over Manchester, the Barcelona team bus arrived beneath deafening boos.

Scarves were raised.

Middle fingers followed.

Piqué looked through the window and felt his expression tighten.

His previous encounter with Ling at Old Trafford had been humiliating.

He had been nutmegged, chipped, turned, and beaten by almost every kind of trick a forward could attempt.

Ling's combination of explosive acceleration and close control represented exactly the kind of opponent Piqué least enjoyed facing.

His partner tonight would once again be Lenglet.

That provided little comfort.

An unpleasant sense of foreboding settled over him before he had even stepped from the bus.

---------

Read 30 chapters ahead and support me on patreon.

patreon (.)com/Newbietranslator

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!