Matchday.
Two hours before kickoff.
On the luxury bus headed toward the National Stadium in Warsaw, the Spanish squad received the result of the other semifinal.
Germany had inexplicably lost to Italy.
The result was simultaneously shocking and entirely predictable.
After all... Italy was Germany's historical kryptonite. Even in a tournament where Germany possessed an undeniably superior, terrifyingly deep squad while Italy fielded an aging, relatively mediocre roster... the Italians still had the last laugh.
There are three universal illusions in world football:
England is strong.
Italy is weak.
Germany will let you win.
So, we play Italy in the Final...
Vicente del Bosque briefly rubbed his chin, then violently shook the thought out of his head.
Focus. We have to survive Portugal first.
The Spanish team bus arrived at the stadium's underground parking facility.
A massive swarm of journalists had already congregated on both sides of the red carpet, eagerly thrusting their microphones and cameras forward.
The moment Del Bosque stepped off the bus, a blinding sea of camera flashes illuminated the concrete tunnel.
The journalists rapidly fired off dozens of questions.
Del Bosque completely ignored them, walking with aristocratic silence directly toward the locker rooms.
The Spanish players followed suit. Most of them were wearing massive headphones, actively treating the screaming journalists like deeply annoying NPCs.
This wasn't an officially sanctioned UEFA interview zone. Therefore, legally, they didn't have to say a single word.
When the two squads emerged from the tunnel for their pre-match warmups, the massive National Stadium was already packed to absolute capacity.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the first semifinal of Euro 2012! The players have just taken the pitch for their warmups. The psychological stakes tonight are unimaginably high," Ian Darke announced from the broadcast booth.
"Especially for Portugal. Knowing that Italy awaits in the final is a massive psychological boost. If they can somehow survive this Spanish juggernaut, they will face an Italian team that plays a very similar counter-attacking style. In a gritty, defensive final like that, it only takes one moment of pure individual brilliance from a superstar to win the trophy..."
As the commentators set the scene, the two massive fanbases were already engaging in psychological warfare in the stands.
The Portuguese ultras initiated a deafening, rhythmic chant:
"RO-NAL-DO! RO-NAL-DO!"
Instantly, the massive contingent of Spanish supporters responded, drowning them out with sheer volume:
"SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"
This was an absolute clash of titans. The battle for the soul of the Iberian Peninsula had officially begun long before the referee even touched his whistle.
"The atmosphere inside the stadium is absolutely electric!" Taylor Twellman noted.
Online, the American fanbase was deeply amused by the audio war.
"Listen to the respect! The Spanish fans are actively chanting his name to counter Ronaldo!"
"They genuinely view an eighteen-year-old kid as the direct equal to prime Cristiano Ronaldo. That is insane."
"Absolute GOAT trajectory!"
The warmups concluded.
The players retreated to the locker rooms for their final tactical briefings.
Fifteen minutes later, the two squads lined up side-by-side in the concrete tunnel.
Unlike a bitter club rivalry, there wasn't an atmosphere of pure hatred. In fact, many of the players shared the same club locker room in Madrid.
Sergio Ramos and Pepe immediately embraced, sharing a brief, violent hug.
As Cristiano Ronaldo emerged from the Portuguese dressing room, he purposefully walked down the Spanish line, high-fiving his Real Madrid teammates Álvaro Arbeloa and Xabi Alonso.
Carter was standing directly between Arbeloa and Alonso.
Ronaldo paused, patted the American teenager heavily on the shoulder, and offered a brief handshake.
Carter accepted the handshake, nodding respectfully, before turning his focus entirely back to the pitch.
Having completed his diplomatic duties, Ronaldo marched to the front of the Portuguese line. His expression instantly shifted from polite to absolute, stone-cold focus.
The broadcast cameras were currently panning down the line.
You always have to look intense for the cameras. It's fundamental for the personal branding.
The refereeing team stepped forward. The two squads marched out onto the pristine grass of the National Stadium.
"The players have taken the pitch! Let's examine the starting lineups for this monumental clash," Ian Darke announced.
"First, for Paulo Bento's Portugal:"
"Goalkeeper: Rui Patrício."
"Defenders: João Pereira, Pepe, Bruno Alves, and Fábio Coentrão."
"Midfielders: Miguel Veloso anchoring the base, flanked by João Moutinho and Raul Meireles."
"Forwards: Nani on the right, Hélder Postiga through the middle, and naturally, captain Cristiano Ronaldo on the left."
"And for Vicente del Bosque's reigning champions:"
"Spain has notably abandoned the False 9 system tonight! They have deployed a traditional striker!"
"Goalkeeper: Iker Casillas."
"Defenders: Álvaro Arbeloa, Gerard Piqué, Sergio Ramos, and Jordi Alba."
"Midfielders: The terrifying trio of Xavi, Xabi Alonso, and Shane Carter."
"Forwards: David Silva, Andrés Iniesta, and Fernando Torres leading the line!"
As the lineups flashed across the screen, the viewership numbers for the US broadcast skyrocketed.
"It's finally happening!"
"Let's go Carter!"
"CR7 IS INEVITABLE! HE'S TAKING PORTUGAL TO THE FINAL AND WINNING HIS BALLON D'OR!"
"You can't be the GOAT if you only score tap-ins and penalties. Playmakers rule the sport."
"Lmao, did you just call prime Ronaldo a tap-in merchant? You literally don't know ball."
"Carter has a higher ceiling than Ronaldo. Quote me."
"Are you genuinely delusional?! The kid had one good season!"
"Did you forget the hat-trick? I certainly didn't."
Amidst the absolute toxicity of the internet comment sections...
The referee brought the whistle to his lips.
PEEEEP!
The Iberian Derby officially began.
Portugal kicked off.
Hélder Postiga tapped the ball back to João Moutinho.
Simultaneously, the two wingers—Cristiano Ronaldo and Nani (who essentially played like a chaotic, dark-magic version of Ronaldo who refused to pass)—violently sprinted forward.
"Moutinho receives... he drops it back to Pepe... and Pepe launches a massive long ball immediately!"
The ball sailed high into the Warsaw sky, tracking directly toward the left flank.
Carter tracked the flight path, backpedaling several steps to intercept. He launched himself into the air.
Simultaneously, Cristiano Ronaldo aggressively leaped to challenge for the exact same aerial duel.
CRASH.
The two heavily muscled athletes collided violently mid-air.
Neither managed to cleanly head the ball. It deflected out of bounds for a throw-in.
Gravity pulled them both back down to the turf. Ronaldo landed heavily, immediately sat up, and threw his arms out wide in a gesture of pure outrage, glaring fiercely at the referee.
His body language was universally understood: Are you completely blind? That was obviously a foul!
Unfortunately for Ronaldo, the referee possessed a spine. He completely ignored the theatrical appeal.
Standing a few feet away, Carter simply gestured for Ronaldo to get off the grass.
"Stop acting, man. Get up," Carter muttered in English as he jogged over to provide an option for the incoming throw-in.
Who the hell do you think you're talking to, kid?! Show some respect!
Ronaldo scoffed angrily, climbing to his feet.
Seeing Carter receive the throw-in near the touchline, Ronaldo aggressively sprinted forward, intending to execute a blind-side tackle and humiliate the teenager.
But it was as if Carter had eyes in the back of his head.
The exact microsecond Ronaldo committed his momentum, Carter abruptly stopped, executed a violently rapid Cruyff turn, dragged the ball backward, and nonchalantly slipped it directly between Ronaldo's open legs.
"BEAUTIFUL! CARTER CASUALLY NUTMEGS CRISTIANO RONALDO!"
The broadcast booth exploded.
Ronaldo's hardcore fanboys online instantly malfunctioned.
"Nutmegging a forward doesn't mean anything!"
"He's just being deliberately disrespectful!"
A fraction of a second later, Carter completely disregarded the online outrage and executed another nutmeg.
This time, the victim was Portuguese defensive midfielder Miguel Veloso.
Veloso, playing his club football for Genoa in Serie A, was a highly competent, technically sound defensive anchor. He possessed excellent tackling fundamentals and reliable long-range distribution—essentially a budget-friendly version of Xabi Alonso.
But fundamental tackling mechanics mean absolutely nothing when facing SS-tier Brazilian street magic.
Carter feinted a pass outward, instantly snapped his ankle inward, and pushed the ball cleanly through Veloso's legs.
Veloso desperately tried to clamp his knees shut, but he was entirely too late.
The ball had already passed through.
"CARTER! HE BYPASSES TWO MEN IN MERE SECONDS! HE DRIVES ACROSS THE HALFWAY LINE! SPAIN IS ON THE ATTACK!"
"Carter... slips a brilliant through ball to Iniesta! Iniesta doesn't even take a touch! He whips a perfect low cross across the box! TORRES!!!"
"Oh... wait... what?!"
The commentator's escalating excitement violently derailed.
The entire sequence leading up to the final shot was a breathtaking display of footballing perfection. Carter's double nutmeg, his perfectly weighted through ball, and Iniesta's flawless, first-time cross into the six-yard box.
It was pure art.
Right up until the ball reached Fernando Torres.
Torres slid in perfectly to meet the cross... and completely blasted the ball over the crossbar from five yards out.
Torres stood up, spat on the grass, and gave Iniesta an apologetic thumbs-up.
"Oh... Fernando Torres... how on earth do you put that over the bar?!"
"Spain engineers an absolute masterclass of a counter-attack in the opening minutes, but they simply cannot find the finishing touch..."
Online:
"Why did Del Bosque abandon the False 9?! Put Fàbregas back on!"
"I genuinely don't think Torres remembers how to shoot a football."
"Honestly, Fàbregas wouldn't have even made that run into the six-yard box. At least Torres was in the right position to miss."
While the fans debated Torres's tragic decline, the exact matchup they were actively praying for manifested on the pitch.
Cristiano Ronaldo vs. Shane Carter.
Vicente del Bosque had instituted a strict defensive protocol for this match. Carter, operating as the primary defensive pivot, was heavily tasked with providing structural support for Álvaro Arbeloa. Spain refused to allow Arbeloa to defend Ronaldo in pure, isolated 1-on-1 situations.
Despite the modern internet narrative that Ronaldo "couldn't dribble," that was an absolute historical fabrication.
Before his catastrophic knee injury in 2014 forced him to permanently transition into a pure poacher, Ronaldo was undeniably one of the most terrifying, explosive 1-on-1 dribblers on the planet. Combined with his freakish physical power and legendary ball-striking, this specific iteration of Ronaldo was the ultimate, complete attacking weapon.
Spain respected that threat immensely.
Just minutes after Torres missed the sitter, Portugal rapidly transitioned the ball to the left flank.
Ronaldo faced Arbeloa. He executed three lightning-fast step-overs, violently dropped his shoulder, cut inside onto his favored right foot, and instantly pulled the trigger.
The exact millisecond the ball left Ronaldo's boot...
A massive shadow eclipsed him.
Carter had perfectly anticipated the cut inside. He launched himself across the turf in a violent, perfectly timed slide tackle, throwing his entire body into the trajectory of the shot.
The ball violently impacted Carter's outstretched boot and deflected sharply toward the touchline.
Arbeloa reacted instantly, sprinting forward to keep the ball in play before it crossed the line.
João Moutinho aggressively closed him down.
Trapped on the sideline, Arbeloa desperately searched for an outlet. He saw Carter climbing to his feet, actively demanding the ball.
Despite Cristiano Ronaldo standing less than two yards away from the teenager, Arbeloa trusted Carter completely and passed him the ball.
As the ball rolled toward him, Carter subtly dropped his shoulder, perfectly faking a movement to receive the ball on the half-turn and face his own goal.
Ronaldo completely bought the feint and aggressively shifted his weight to initiate a tackle from behind.
The second Ronaldo shifted his momentum, Carter let the ball run entirely across his body, executed a rapid pivot, and aggressively pushed the ball forward into the vacant midfield.
Ronaldo was completely stranded.
Having entirely bypassed the Portuguese captain, Carter looked up, scanned the pitch, and launched an absolute missile from his right boot.
A magnificent rainbow materialized in the Warsaw sky.
The long ball perfectly bypassed the entire Portuguese defensive structure, dropping with terrifying precision directly into the path of Fernando Torres, who was sprinting aggressively toward the penalty area.
"MAGNIFICENT! TORRES IS CLEAN THROUGH ON GOAL!"
Ian Darke screamed.
This time, Torres didn't overthink it.
He took one flawless touch to seamlessly bypass the rushing Rui Patrício.
With the goalkeeper entirely stranded, Torres calmly rolled the ball into the empty net.
Read ahead with 70+ chapters now with daily updates!
@patreon.com/Authorizz