Camp Nou.
After Barcelona took the lead, they immediately slowed the tempo of the match to an absolute crawl. This was their signature strategy. They used endless possession to bait the opponent forward, steadily draining their patience and stamina.
If you pressed high to win the ball back, you played right into their hands. They would simply slice through the high line with their intricate, rapid ground passing.
This was precisely why people always said that once Barcelona took the lead, the game became incredibly boring to watch. No neutral fan wanted to sit through ninety minutes of slow, methodical passing around the backline.
But the Barcelona fans couldn't care less. They were thrilled. Barcelona were up 1-0, and there was still no news of an Atlético goal from Madrid. No news was the best news.
Consequently, even a mundane passing sequence—from Busquets to Piqué, Piqué back to Valdés, Valdés out wide to Alba, Alba inside to Iniesta, Iniesta dropping it to Mascherano, and Mascherano recycling it back to Valdés—was met with rapturous applause. The Camp Nou faithful cheered every single touch.
However, amidst the joyful noise, a sharp, piercing chorus of boos suddenly erupted from a specific corner of the stadium.
The expressions on the Barcelona players' faces changed instantly. They knew exactly what that meant. Bad news had arrived from Madrid.
"They scored," Tito Vilanova muttered, sitting next to Guardiola on the bench.
"Shane?"
"Yeah. A beautiful strike from distance."
Guardiola let out a long, heavy sigh. He knew it was over. Everything was over. Atlético Madrid were leading at home. The chances of a relegated Mallorca side mounting a comeback were practically zero.
…
Guardiola was right. The rest of the match fell entirely into Atlético Madrid's rhythm.
Mallorca were reduced to passive defending. Yet, surprisingly, even after falling behind, they didn't push forward to attack. They continued to sit deep in their defensive shell.
The Atlético players were perfectly fine with this. If the opponent wanted to park the bus while losing, there was no need to force the issue and risk a counterattack. A 1-0 win was still a win.
As a result, after Atlético's opening goal, the remainder of the first half became utterly dull and uneventful.
This time, it was the Atlético fans who were delighted. They certainly didn't find the match boring. In fact, if possible, they hoped the second half would be exactly the same. No drama, no stress, just a quiet 1-0 finish.
Atlético would win the championship, and Mallorca would only suffer a narrow one-goal defeat to the eventual champions, saving them from further humiliation.
And just like that, the first half came to a quiet end. The players headed down the tunnel.
…
Inside the home dressing room, every Atlético player looked incredibly relaxed and happy. Some had already started talking about the Champions League final.
The Double!
Atlético Madrid actually had the chance to win both La Liga and the Champions League in a single season. How could they not be excited?
Simeone was the last to enter the room. Before he could even close the door, he saw Shane Carter stand up and walk to the center of the dressing room. The manager, who had been about to speak, immediately shut his mouth and watched.
Seeing Shane take the floor, the rest of the squad quickly quieted down.
"Guys, I really don't want to ruin the mood, but there are a few things that need to be said," Shane started, getting straight to the point.
"Do you really think we've already won? We completely dominated the first half, yes, but we only have a one-goal lead. You might think Mallorca are already relegated and have nothing left to fight for, but in my experience, those are the most dangerous teams. You can never predict what they'll do in the second half."
Shane looked around the room, making eye contact with his teammates. "What if they suddenly decide they don't want to lose and throw everything forward? What if they nick a lucky goal? It's not impossible."
The message was crystal clear. The players looked thoughtful, nodding in agreement as the reality of the situation settled back in.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Sudden applause broke the silence. Everyone turned to see Simeone clapping slowly by the door.
"Well said, Shane!" Simeone beamed. "I was actually planning to say the exact same thing, but I guess I don't have to now."
The manager's smile faded into a sharp, focused stare. "Get out there and find a second goal as quickly as possible! One goal is not safe, boys!"
…
Despite knowing a one-goal lead was precarious, Atlético didn't rush to attack right out of the gate in the second half. They wanted to test Mallorca's reaction. If the visitors were content to lose 1-0, Atlético would happily oblige.
But if Mallorca grew anxious and tried to push for an equalizer, it meant Atlético's opportunity to kill the game had arrived.
As the second half commenced, Atlético controlled possession, playing at a measured, unhurried pace. Initially, Mallorca maintained their deep block. But as time ticked by, the Mallorca players slowly began to realize that Atlético seemed satisfied with a 1-0 lead. This gave them a glimmer of hope.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the Mallorca formation began to creep forward.
Shane noticed the subtle shift immediately. He started dropping deeper into his own half, orchestrating the passing sequences and recycling possession. Without realizing it, Mallorca continued to press higher.
A dangerous gap began to widen between their defensive line and their goalkeeper.
Shane waited patiently. Like a seasoned fisherman watching the bobber twitch, he didn't yank the rod immediately. He waited for the absolute perfect moment to strike.
In the sixty-third minute, the fish finally took the bait.
Shane saw that the Mallorca backline had pushed at least twenty meters away from their goalkeeper. For an average playmaker, dropping a long ball perfectly into that specific pocket of space—ensuring it reached the striker without allowing the keeper to claim it—was incredibly difficult.
But Shane was not an average playmaker.
And he wasn't going to wait any longer. If the gap grew any wider, the Mallorca manager might sense the danger and order his team back.
The moment was now.
Shane received the ball, faked a lateral pass to shift the nearest defender, and then abruptly turned. He swung his right foot through the ball, launching a massive, sweeping long pass.
The ball tore into the sky.
"Shane... with the long ball!"
Up in the booth, Martin and Gary tracked the flight of the pass. As their eyes shifted to the attacking third, both commentators gasped in unison.
"Atlético have beaten the offside trap!"
Amidst their shouts, Costa and Griezmann perfectly timed their runs, bursting through the gap in the Mallorca defense the exact moment the ball left Shane's foot.
By the time the Mallorca defenders realized what was happening, the ball was already dropping out of the sky.
Mallorca goalkeeper Dudu Aouate rushed off his line in a desperate attempt to intervene. Costa kept his body angled, tracking the dropping ball while keeping an eye on the charging keeper. With a simple, unselfish flick of his head, he squared the ball across the box.
Griezmann arrived perfectly, facing a completely empty net. He guided it home with the side of his foot.
"2-0!!!"
"Atlético Madrid seal the victory!"
"Atlético Madrid... secure the championship!"
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