January 9, 2025 – Jeddah, Saudi Arabia
The sun filtered through the hotel windows in Jeddah as the team gathered for breakfast. The air buzzed with a mix of nerves and excitement—it was El Clásico time. Barcelona vs. Real Madrid. A final. A trophy on the line. And for Luca, this wasn't just another training session—it was one step closer to the biggest moment of his career.
After their victory over Athletic Club, there was barely time to celebrate. They'd done the job—now came the real test. Real Madrid had beaten Mallorca in the other semifinal, setting the stage for a classic battle of Spain's two biggest giants.
As the players sat around in the dining room, laughter mixed with talk of tactics. Gavi nudged Luca with a grin."Ready for your first Clásico? Even if it's from the bench, that's still history, bro."
Luca smiled, but his mind was racing. A year ago, he'd only dreamed of sharing the same locker room with players like Gavi, Pedri, Lewandowski. Now, he was training for a final with them.
Lamine Yamal slid into the seat next to him."Tomorrow's gonna be fire. Hansi said the energy in training will decide everything."Luca raised an eyebrow. "You think he'll rotate the squad?"
"Not much. But whoever shines today might get more minutes. He's watching everyone."Luca nodded. That was all the motivation he needed.
Training Begins: Heat, Humidity, and Heart
At 10:00 AM, they were back on the pitch at Al-Ittihad's training facility in Jeddah. Hansi Flick, flanked by assistant coaches Toni Tapalović, Marcus Sorg, and Rainer Widmayer, stood at the center circle, calmly surveying his squad.
"Focus and discipline," Flick said in his trademark stern but composed voice. "We don't beat Madrid with talent alone—we beat them with trust, commitment, and control."
The players split into warm-up groups. Pedri, Gavi, and Frenkie de Jong worked through passing patterns while Lamine and Raphinha practiced one-touch drills with the full-backs. Meanwhile, Luca was paired with Ferran Torres and Fermin, rotating across the left wing, focusing on movement and delivery.
Toni Tapalović pulled Luca aside for a separate drill.
"We want more delivery from the left," he said. "Imagine Lewy in the middle. Or Lamine cutting across. You're the one feeding them."
He set up a precision crossing drill. One-touch run-and-crosses. Deep balls from the corner. Cutbacks under pressure.
With each cross, Luca visualized the moment—80 on his back, lights blazing, the ball curling through the air toward Lewandowski's head.
Midfield Battle: Gavi and Pedri Set the Tone
On the other side of the pitch, the heart of the team—Pedri and Gavi—was putting in the work. They were relentless, pressing the ball, sprinting to cover passing lanes. Their chemistry was off the charts.
"Vamos! One touch!" Gavi shouted, sliding into a tackle against Fermin.
Luca watched with admiration. There was a reason these guys were born for big games. They never switched off.
During a quick water break, Pedri walked up to Luca."Clásico's a mental game. You don't need to be loud. Just be sharp. Be fast. Trust your instinct."Luca nodded. "You think I'll get minutes?"Pedri grinned. "If Hansi sees you fly again like in Barbastro, why not? Just do what you always do."
Set Piece Work: Dialing in the Details
As the session continued, the coaching staff focused on set pieces—corners, wide free kicks, counter-pressing after a turnover. They practiced defending Madrid's aerial threats, especially with Bellingham's late runs.
Luca found himself on both ends of the action—delivering corners with his left foot, then dropping into the defensive unit to track and recover.
"Good, Luca!" shouted Flick. "Keep your head on a swivel. One mistake and Madrid punish you."
The pressure was intense—but Luca loved it. It was these moments that separated academy players from professionals. He wasn't just here to observe—he was here to prove.
Locker Room Vibes
After the session, the squad returned to the dressing room, drenched in sweat, but smiling. Lewandowski sat next to Luca, stretching his calves."Nice deliveries today. You and I could make a lot of defenders miserable."
Luca laughed. "That's the goal."
Lewy nodded. "In a Clásico, you don't wait for the game to come to you. You go take it."
Across the room, Raphinha and Lamine were in a light-hearted debate over music. Gavi tossed a water bottle at them."Save that energy for Madrid!"
The group burst into laughter. It was a tight squad—competitive but supportive. Even with the pressure of a final, there was warmth in the air. A brotherhood.
Evening Tactical Meeting
Later that evening, Flick held a closed tactical session in the team's conference room. A large screen displayed Madrid's formation from their last three matches. He dissected their shape, transitions, and pressing traps.
"Madrid will target our midfield. We keep the ball moving. Use width. Switch play. Lamine, Luca, Raphinha—you stretch them."
He turned to Luca at one point.
"If we need energy on the left, you're my option. Be ready."
That was all Luca needed to hear. He didn't need promises. He needed preparation.
Night Before the Final
Back at the hotel, Luca sat on the balcony of his room, overlooking the lights of Jeddah. Lamine joined him with two sodas in hand.
"You nervous?" he asked.
Luca shrugged. "A little. But mostly excited."
"Yeah. Same. Last year I was watching this game from my sofa. Now I'm starting one. You're on the bench. Next year? Who knows—you might start."
Luca nodded, smiling. "One step at a time."
They sat in silence for a moment, both aware of how far they'd come—and how far they still had to go.
Inside, Pedri played cards with Raphinha and Gavi. Lewy was watching match film. And Hansi Flick? He was preparing the script. But the players… they were about to write the story.
And if fate allowed, number 80 would carve his name into it too.
To Be Continued… El Clásico Awaits. 🏆