The Spotify Camp Nou concourse buzzed with restless energy during halftime. Fans swarmed for drinks and quick bites, their conversations electric with tension and anticipation for the second half.
Barcelona had dominated, yet the scoreboard stubbornly read 0-0.
Inside the locker room, sweat dripped from jerseys as players gulped water. Hansi Flick stood at the center, his icy German precision slicing through the humid air.
He started his halftime talk.
"Good job. You're suffocating them," he said, voice calm but sharp. "But suffocating is not killing. Football gods don't just play, they finish".
His eyes turned as sharp as a blade as he turned to Sam, pointing a finger like a dagger. "They're collapsing under your shadow. Break them. This second half, we hunt".
Sam, chest heaving but eyes blazing, nodded once. "Done".
And then, it was time…
The roar that greeted Barcelona's return to the pitch was a tidal wave, a primal cry of belief.
And Barca showed intent from the onset. They were not here to play.
From the kickoff, the tempo doubled.
In the 46th minute, Gavi split Betis's midfield with a razor pass, Sam flicking it to Lewandowski, whose volley screamed inches wide.
They started fast again, but finishing let them down.
Barca was relentless though. In the 48th minute, Yamal surged to life again, shredding two defenders on the right before curling a cross that forced a desperate header clear.
In the 51st minute, Raphinha rattled the crossbar with a thunderbolt strike from 30 yards out.
FC Barcelona was out for blood.
Real Betis hung on, their goalkeeper turning into a one-man wall. But each save chipped away at their resolve, like a cliff eroded by relentless waves.
And then, the first strike. It came in the 55th minute.
Who else?
The breakthrough came from a moment of chaos orchestrated by Sam.
He dropped deep to receive a pass from Pedri, spun, and surged forward with hypnotic rhythm… unstoppable. Three defenders swarmed him, but he dragged them wide before unleashed a disguised trivela into the box.
Lewandowski met it like a hammer, and this time he didn't miss, smashing it past the goalkeeper with lethal precision.
GOAL!
1-0 Barcelona.
The stadium detonated in sound, a rolling, deafening celebration.
Lewandowski sprinted to Sam, gripping his head. "That's why you're the king!" he yelled over the noise.
Barcelona got their lead, but in the 61st minute, Betis countered.
Betis, wounded but unbroken, struck back fiercely. A quick counter forced Jose Garcia into another stunning save, palming a bullet header onto the post.
Araujo, bleeding from a minor clash moments earlier, screamed at his teammates, rallying the high line like a warlord.
"Hold it! No ground given!"
But then, a maelstrom followed from the next few minutes as FC Barcelona smelled blood. From the 65th minute on, it was ten minutes of carnage.
Gavi threw himself into tackles, winning back to back duels that kept Betis pinned in their own half. Balde overlapped ruthlessly, going on mazy dribbling runs that cut Betis open, one cross narrowly missed by Lewandowski's sliding boot.
Pedri, dancing between lines, toyed with defenders before chipping a pass that forced yet another world-class save from the Real Betis goalkeeper.
Every press, every run, every shout from Hansi Flick on the sideline carved fear into Real Betis. The high line suffocated them, forcing error after error.
And then, in the 78th minute of the game, the second goal finally game after sustained relentless pressure from the Catalan giants.
It came from brilliance only Samuel Moses could conjure.
Receiving the ball near the sideline, he spun past his marker with a Cruyff turn, burst into the box, and with two defenders crashing onto him, back heeled the ball blind to Lamine Yamal.
The teenager didn't hesitate… one touch, top corner.
CRACK! GOAL!
2-0 Barcelona.
Yamal sprinted to Sam, disbelief in his eyes. "How did you even see that?!"
Sam grinned, tapping is temple. "I've got eyes everywhere".
They both charged towards the corner flag, and there, Lamine Yamal started the samba dance celebration as Balde, Gavi, and even Pedri joined them, their other teammates joining in the celebration too.
And then, the kill shot in the 85th minute of the game.
Real Betis cracked fully under the pressure. Pedri intercepted a desperate clearance, slipped it to Sam, who launched forward like a predator unleashed.
Inside the box, a flick of his boot lifted the ball over a sliding defender.
Without letting it touch the ground, Sam's instincts fired as he executed a scissor volley, the ball rocketing into the net with incredible velocity.
WHAM!
3-0.
"MY GOD!" The commentator screamed shrilly, voice filled with disbelief.
"How do you measure this? How do you quantify this?!"
"Statistics? They mean jack shit in front of this player! He's extraterrestrial! He's who he thinks he is! He's HIM!"
"ZINEDINE SAM! King of the Spotify Camp Nou!"
"The Football God in Barcelona!"
"And that's 1 goal and 2 assists for the game! What an unplayable performance!"
"You can't stop this, you can't predict this, you can only sink to your knees and pray".
The stadium erupted like an earthquake.
Barcelona fans wept, strangers embraced, banners waving violently in the hot night air. Sam sprinted to the corner flag, arms wide, face tilted to the heavens.
"Dios del Futbol!" "Dios del Futbol!" chants thundered so loudly it felt like the stands themselves were shaking.
And then…
FWEEE!
When the final whistle blew, Real Betis lay shattered, Barcelona triumphant. The scoreboard gleamed.
[FULL-TIME: Barcelona 3-0 Real Betis]
Not just a win, but a statement carved into La Liga's opening night.
The high line? Untouchable.
The youth? Unstoppable.
Samuel Moses? Unmatched.
He won the man of the match award.
As Sam walked off the pitch, applauding fans with his teammates, a reporter shouted from the tunnel.
"Madrid said you're a one-season wonder. Any response?"
Sam paused, sweat dripping, eyes like molten steel.
"Tell Madrid," he said, voice low but searing, "the season just started… and the God isn't done".
…
In Madrid, as Real's squad warmed up for their Sevilla clash, Vinicius watched the highlights on his phone.
The grin he'd worn during preseason began to falter, but not for long.
He grinned again. "Good," he muttered. "Good. If you guys are not good enough, it'll only make the fight boring".
"Play at your best, beat teams, I don't want any excuses come season end".