"Long live Atlético!"
The roar swept through the Calderón stadium like a massive tidal wave.
"Congratulations to Atlético Madrid! Congratulations to the 2012-2013 La Liga Champions!"
In the broadcast booth, Mario stretched his voice to its absolute limit, screaming into the microphone.
"Shane Carter! He is the absolute architect of this championship! Thirty-seven league matches, thirty-six goals, and twenty-three assists. He was directly involved in fifty-nine goals! But if you watched him play, if you truly understand his game, you know that those numbers only tell half the story!"
"He is unequivocally the player of the season!"
Even though the title race had lost most of its suspense after Atlético's victory over Barcelona, it wasn't until the final whistle actually blew that the fans could truly let go.
The moment the match ended, reporters swarmed onto the pitch. No one was going to wait obediently in the mixed zone for structured interviews. It was a chaotic sprint to capture the rawest emotion.
Everyone had the exact same target. They all wanted Shane Carter.
He was the best player in La Liga this season, and arguably the best player in all of Europe. If he could lead Atlético Madrid to a Champions League victory, he would win the Ballon d'Or without a single shred of doubt. Even if Atlético fell to Bayern Munich in the final, his staggering statistical output made him a massive favorite.
He was simply too brilliant to be ignored. The journalists knew exactly who the entire footballing world wanted to see.
But they were a step too late. The people even more excited than the press, and significantly faster, were Shane's own teammates.
By the time the reporters reached the center circle, Shane was already completely surrounded by a wall of red and white stripes.
"Boys! Get him up!" Captain Gabi roared.
The Atlético players immediately descended upon Shane. Hands grabbed his arms, legs, and waist. Before Shane could even process what was happening, he was hoisted horizontally into the air, supported by a dozen of his teammates.
"What are you guys doing?!" Shane yelled in sudden panic.
He had absolutely no mental preparation for this. To his utter shock, he felt his teammates heave in unison, launching him entirely unsupported into the sky.
He hit the apex of the toss, hung in the air for a terrifying second, and then plummeted back down, only to be caught and violently thrown upward again.
The fans in the Calderón happily joined in the ritual. Every single time Shane flew into the air, the entire stadium shouted his name in perfect synchronization.
"SHAAAAAAAANE!"
"Ahhhhh!" Shane screamed, his face turning pale.
Being repeatedly thrown into the sky with zero control was absolutely terrifying.
Blocked from getting closer, the journalists eagerly raised their cameras, snapping rapid-fire photos of the chaotic celebration. Every single person in the stadium understood why the players were doing it. Shane Carter was the undisputed hero of this championship campaign.
When his teammates finally lowered him safely to the grass, every single player lined up to embrace him, thanking him for everything he had given to the team.
Slowly, the entire stadium began to sing the "Shane Carter Song." The melody echoed loudly and proudly into the Madrid sky.
…
While the players celebrated wildly on the pitch, the trophy presentation was being prepared.
Because the Calderón was their home ground, Atlético had total control over how grand the ceremony would be. La Liga officials had already brought the authentic trophy to the stadium. Now that Atlético had won, the presentation could proceed immediately.
If they had failed to secure the victory, the trophy would have been transported to their final match of the season. Given that Barcelona still had a mathematical chance of winning prior to this match, the league would have been forced to prepare a replica trophy for the final round.
Thankfully, Atlético spared La Liga the logistical headache. They won the match, locked up the title, and saved the league the cost of commissioning a duplicate trophy.
By the time the stage was fully assembled in the center of the pitch, the Mallorca players and away fans had quietly departed. The Calderón now belonged entirely to Atlético Madrid.
The cheering was endless. The singing never stopped.
After their initial chaotic celebrations on the grass, the players briefly retreated to the dressing room. The club had prepared special commemorative championship t-shirts.
Wearing the celebratory shirts—split down the middle with red on the left and white on the right—the players marched back out of the tunnel.
The stadium erupted with renewed ferocity as the champions emerged. The players lined up and walked up the steps of the podium. The President of the Spanish Football Federation personally placed a championship medal around every player's neck.
Once every man had received his medal, the climax of the evening arrived.
Captain Gabi stepped forward and received the massive silver La Liga trophy from the Federation President. The players gathered around, crouching down and preparing to explode upward for the iconic trophy lift.
Suddenly, Gabi stopped and turned around.
"Shane! Get up here! We lift it together!"
The squad looked surprised for a fraction of a second. Shane himself froze. But then, wide smiles broke out across the players' faces. They laughed loudly, pushing and pulling Shane toward the center until he stood right beside the captain.
"Come on, Shane!"
"Honestly, a year ago, I never even dreamed we would win this!"
"Exactly!"
"If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be standing here!"
"You are the biggest reason we won."
Every man in the squad knew the absolute truth. Since they were insisting so passionately, Shane didn't hold back.
He stepped up. He and Gabi each gripped one side of the heavy silver trophy, crouching low together.
"Boys, are you ready?!" Gabi screamed.
"Ready!" the squad roared back, crouching with them.
"Alright! Let's go!"
Gabi and Shane surged upward simultaneously. Every player threw their arms into the air.
"YEEESSSSSS!"
Shane and Gabi hoisted the La Liga trophy high above their heads.
Click! Click! Click!
Camera shutters fired endlessly. Flashbulbs strobed like a lightning storm, freezing the historic image in time.
Massive cannons positioned on both sides of the podium erupted, blasting thousands of red and white streamers into the sky. Thick plumes of red and white smoke billowed up from the front of the stage, wrapping the players in a misty, vibrant haze.
As the streamers rained down slowly from the Madrid sky, a legendary, unmistakable anthem blasted through the stadium speakers.
We are the champions, my friends...
And we'll keep on fighting till the end...
We are the champions...
We are the champions...
No time for losers...
'Cause we are the champions of the world!
The classic Queen anthem echoed through the Calderón, and fifty thousand fans sang along with absolute passion.
"We are the champions! We are the champions!"
Shane sang along with his teammates at the top of his lungs. Overwhelmed with emotion, he leaned forward and kissed the cold silver of his very first league title.
It was his first.
But it absolutely would not be his last.
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