Morning After Bayern-Ajax Draw
The Ajax squad gathered at breakfast, battered bodies and bruised egos hidden behind quiet conversation. Coach Bakker stood by the screen with his tablet.
"Listen up," he said. "Juventus press high. Reckless. Suicidal even. They leave gaps. It makes them dangerous. They're playing for pride now. The most dangerous kind of opponent."
To hammer the point, Bakker played a short clip on the screen: a Juventus midfielder lunging into a two-footed challenge against Barcelona the night before, barely missing a red card. Their press swarmed the ball, defenders charging forward with reckless abandon.
"See that? They don't care what happens behind them. It'll be chaos. But if we're brave, we break them."
Tournament Results Announcement
Later, in the hotel media lounge, the screen flashed the second matchday results.
Group A
Arsenal 5-0 Benfica
Kai Sterling with a hat-trick and two assists. His outrageous celebration clip trended within minutes.
Porto 1-1 Real Madrid
Group B
Liverpool 2-2 Lyon
PSG 1-1 Inter Milan
Group C
Barcelona 3-0 Juventus
Group D
Dortmund 2-1 AC Milan
Manchester United 2-2 Chelsea
No teams officially through. Every group hanging by a thread.
Josip whistled. "Juve's gonna come at us like cornered dogs."
Later That Evening ,
That evening, Liam found Femi alone on the terrace.
"You okay?" Liam asked, dropping into a chair beside him.
Femi shrugged. "We got one more fight."
Liam hesitated, then sighed. "You ever wonder if we're just pretending? Like… what if I'm not enough when it matters?"
Femi looked at him. "You don't have to be perfect. Just stubborn."
Liam managed a grin. "Yeah. Stubborn I can do."
Elsewhere in the Hotel,
In his suite, Kai Sterling scrolled through match reactions, smirking at his trending clips. A flood of likes and comments flashed by.
Then he stumbled onto a clip of Femi's tackle on Brandt.
His face twisted.
He hurled his phone onto the bed, pacing. Picked it back up. Opened Twitter.
Typed: "Funny how clowns get lucky sometimes."
Sent it.
Later still, in the hotel gym, Femi ran into Maximilian Vogel. No cameras. No crowd.
Vogel gave him a nod. "Good tackle against Brandt."
Femi blinked. "You watching our clips now?"
Vogel smirked. "I pay attention. Listen… you're too eager to fix everything yourself. Trust your teammates. It makes a difference."
He left it there, walking off without waiting for a reply.
That night, Bakker gathered the team one last time.
"Tomorrow isn't about them. It's about us. Play brave."
Femi raised a fist.
One by one, the rest followed.
A team still alive.
And a final fight waiting...