Chapter 174

The sun was high in the sky when Izan’s phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. He glanced at the screen mid-bite of his avocado toast and saw Miranda’s name flashing.

Looking around, Izan spotted a napkin and wiped his hands with it before he picked it up.

"Hey, Miranda," he greeted casually, though his tone carried curiosity. "What’s up?"

"Izan," she began, her voice brisk yet warm, "I hope you’re still riding the high from yesterday’s game. You were electric."

"Thanks," Izan replied, a small grin creeping onto his face. "So, what’s the call about?" Izan said getting right into business.

"Well, I’ve got some exciting news," she said, her tone shifting to one of anticipation. "YSL has finalized the release date for your collaboration

The pictures, coupled with the announcements will be done on the same day"

"That’s amazing! When’s the big day?" Izan said after Miranda was done.

"Here’s the kicker," Miranda said, her voice dipping into a playful tease. "It’s set to drop on the same day you play Real Madrid."

"That’s… bold," Izan said after a moment, a mix of excitement and pressure stirring within him. "Talk about making a statement."

"Exactly," Miranda agreed. "The timing is perfect. The whole world will be watching you that day—both on the pitch and off it. YSL wants to capitalize on that energy, and honestly, so should you."

Izan nodded, though Miranda couldn’t see it. "Alright," he said, a confident edge to his voice. "Let’s do it. Anything else I should know?"

"I’ll send you the campaign details and schedule later today. Just keep doing what you’re doing, Izan. You’re on fire," she said, her voice filled with genuine pride.

"Thanks, Miranda," he said before hanging up.

On the other side of things, Valencia’s Copa del Rey quarter-final clash against Real Sociedad was fast approaching.

The city of Valencia pulsed with excitement as the upcoming Copa del Rey quarterfinal clash against Real Sociedad loomed.

For the loyal ché supporters, this was more than just another match—it was a chance to edge closer to reclaiming the silverware they last won in 2019.

Because of Valencia’s lack of European football, they could redirect their efforts to the Copa del Rey trophy.

In the bustling streets near the Mestalla, fans gathered in small clusters, passionately debating tactics and key players over cups of coffee or cold beer.

The iconic chants of "Amunt Valencia!" rang out as fans draped in orange and black waved their scarves high.

Vendors on the sidewalks sold flags, jerseys, and matchday memorabilia, all fueling the collective sense of optimism.

On local radio and social media, the excitement was palpable. Supporters shared memories of the club’s storied past in the competition, their voices tinged with hope that this could be the start of a new chapter.

Fans spoke of the team’s resilience this season, eager to see if they could overcome the formidable Real Sociedad.

Children and lifelong supporters alike lined up outside the Mestalla to catch a glimpse of the players during training sessions, shouting words of encouragement and singing their favourite anthems.

The air was thick with anticipation, a mix of nervous energy and unshakeable belief that their beloved Valencia could take another step toward glory for the season.

"Sigue así, sigue así, Cenk"

"Mark, arrástralo de vuelta"

The crisp February air at Valencia’s training ground carried an electric charge as the team prepared for their crucial Copa del Rey quarterfinal against Real Sociedad.

The intensity was palpable; every pass, tackle, and sprint was performed with purpose, reflecting the gravity of the match ahead.

The Coaches looked on as the defenders directed shouts at a singular person. Izan, the subject of this moved with ease, threading pinpoint passes under pressure and escaping challenges with a calmness that seemed almost innate.

Ruben Baraja, had been making his defence player against Izan, to get a feel of how it was to be helpless.

The defenders were now feeling the despair some of the league’s defenders felt when they went against Izan.

As the team shifted to tactical exercises, Izan’s influence grew. Playing in his advanced role, he was pivotal in transitioning the ball from midfield to attack, combining quick one-twos with seasoned players and exploiting pockets of space with intelligent runs.

In one sequence, he received a lofted pass, controlled it with a deft first touch, and split the defence with a perfectly weighted through ball that left the coaches applauding.

"Hermoso Izan. Hermoso, Assistant Coach Moreno said after the sequence was over.

The training went on for a while before a late February rain started falling. Not wanting his players to be out with a cold, Rueb Baraja sounded his whistle, ending the session.

The players all ran inside the building, subjecting themselves to a hot bath before joining the boss in the Cafeteria.

The cafeteria was warm and lively, a stark contrast to the cold rain drumming against the windows.

Izan, Sosa, Pietro, Diego López, and Javi Guerra sat around a circular table near the corner, plates of steaming food before them.

Their laughter mingled with the faint hum of the rain and the clatter of dishes in the background.

Pietro was the loudest, gesturing wildly as he recounted an exaggerated story about slipping on the wet pitch during training.

The others couldn’t hold back their laughter, Sosa nearly choking on his juice. Izan shook his head with a small smile, his sharp eyes catching every inconsistency in Pietro’s tale.

"That doesn’t even make sense, Pietro," Izan interjected, his calm voice cutting through the chaos.

"You said you slipped, but then you were the one scoring a bicycle kick five minutes later? Which one is it?"

The table erupted again, with Diego clapping Pietro on the back. "Caught you there, clown," Diego teased, his usually serious demeanour softened by the friendly atmosphere.

Javi, ever the quiet one, chipped in with a rare quip. "Maybe Pietro’s memory slipped too, like his boots."

Even Pietro couldn’t help but laugh at his own expense. "Okay, okay, fine! Maybe I exaggerated a little. But you’ve got to admit, it made for a good story."

The conversation shifted to the upcoming Real Sociedad match. Izan, always the tactician, led the discussion, analyzing their opponent’s midfield strategy.

The others listened intently, nodding along, though Pietro couldn’t resist slipping in a joke about how Izan should be their next coach.

"I think Ruben’s job might be at risk. Care to change profession, Manager Izan"

"Careful, Pietro," Izan shot back with mock seriousness, "I might just bench you for all your talking."

The quintet laughed again, their camaraderie palpable. After finishing their meals, they made their way to the video room, the rain still tapping rhythmically on the windows.

Inside, the rest of the team was already gathered, some lounging on chairs while others leaned against the walls.

The coach stood near the projector, waiting for everyone to settle. Izan and his friends found seats together, their lighthearted energy still lingering.

Pietro whispered a joke to Diego, earning a stifled chuckle, while Izan leaned forward, his focus shifting entirely to the analysis on screen.

As the video of Real Sociedad’s recent match played, the quintet blended seamlessly into the team dynamic.

The lights in the video room dimmed, leaving the screen at the front as the only source of illumination.

Ruben Baraja stood beside the projector, a commanding presence in his Valencia CF tracksuit. His arms were crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the room to ensure he had everyone’s attention.

"Alright, listen up," Baraja began, his voice calm but firm. "Real Sociedad is not a team we can take lightly. They’re precise, disciplined, and quick in transitions. If we’re not sharp, they’ll punish us."

"We’ve already won against them in the league this season. We’ll do it again" Pietro said, a few of the veteran players shaking their heads.

"I like your confidence Pietro but if that’s how you are, heading into the game, then I might have to send you to the reserves".

Pietro unable to speak, coiled into his seat as the rest of the players laughed.

Baraja clicked a remote, and footage of Real Sociedad’s recent game against Villarreal played. The screen showed their midfield moving like a well-oiled machine, threading passes with uncanny accuracy.

"Their midfield trio," Baraja continued, pointing to the screen with his laser pointer, "is their engine. They control the tempo, and if we let them dictate the game, we’ll be chasing shadows. That’s where you come in, and Javi and Pepelu."

Javi and Pepelu nodded, their expressions serious.

"You’ll need to press hard and cut off their passing lanes. Force them wide. If we can disrupt their rhythm, they’ll struggle to build anything meaningful. But be smart—don’t leave space behind you."

The footage shifted to a clip of Real Sociedad’s wingers darting down the flanks, their pace and skill on full display.

"Now, their wingers," Baraja said, his voice taking on a note of urgency. "They’re fast and dangerous in one-on-one situations.

Izan, I need you to track back when they overload on your side. Support the fullbacks, but don’t forget your role in transitioning to attack. Your vision will be key to launching counterattacks."

Izan gave a slight nod, his sharp mind already analyzing how to balance his defensive and creative duties.

Baraja turned to Hugo and Diego. "Hugo as always, you’ll be leading the line. Their centre-backs are strong, but they’re not the fastest.

Use your movement to pull them out of position. Create space for Fran Pérez to run into when we attack.

Fran Pérez, I want you making those late runs into the box. You’ve got the timing for it, and it’s something they’ll struggle to handle."

He paused, letting his words sink in before clicking to another clip. This one highlighted Real Sociedad’s weaknesses, showing moments when their defence was caught out of position.

"This," Baraja said, tapping the screen with his pointer, "is where we can hurt them.

Quick transitions, smart positioning, and precision in the final third. Stay composed, stay disciplined. If we execute our plan, we’ll come out on top."

Baraja stepped back, folding his arms as he looked at his players. "Any questions?"

The room remained silent, the players exchanging determined glances. Baraja’s confidence in them was evident, and it was infectious.

"Good. Let’s go out there tomorrow and show them how to win"

The players nodded in unison before they stood to leave.

A/n: Have a nice read.