THE GREATEST OF ALL TIME
chapter-603

Saturday, June 6th, 2015

Olympiastadion, Berlin, Germany.

Time: 5:45 PM

The atmosphere in this famous city in Germany was beyond explosive.

The excitement levels had already risen to the skies as fans of both teams eagerly awaited the commencement of the UEFA Champions League final between Juventus and Barcelona.

There were still three hours to the kick-off of the highly anticipated final. Nevertheless, thousands of supporters donning their respective team colors had long crowded along the routes leading to the renowned Olympiastadion, which was obviously the venue of the battle between two footballing giants gunning for European football glory.

With just a glance, one could see many somebodies in blue and garnet jerseys hoisting up posters of Lionel Messi, Neymar, and Andrés Iniesta, among other Barcelona stars. Then, looking across the street, one could spot other fans in Juventus' black and white colors holding up banners of Juventus players like Zachary Bemba, Gianluigi Buffon, Carlos Tevez, Andrea Pirlo, Leonardo Bonucci, Giorgio Chiellini, and Arturo Vidal, among other famous Old Lady stars.

The fans of both teams were doing their best to support their teams even before the commencement of the final. Their excited voices occasionally ignited the atmosphere around them as they sang chants of their teams or the names of their footballing stars.

Paolo Favero, a staunch fan of Juventus who had arrived in Berlin the previous day, was among the crowd. Beside him were several friends who were of the same football religion. They had also traveled to watch the final, and just like him, they were also sporting Juventus black and white striped jerseys.

Unlike his friends, Paolo was particularly quiet that evening. He was full of grand expectations for his team but also a bit anxious. His heart was already beating fast and hard with yearning as he waited for the game that could make or break his team's football season.

If Juventus could win, they would complete a year of football on a high note. But if they lost, many would forget their achievements in the other domestic competitions, and all the glory would go to Barcelona.

There was also the question of Zachary winning the Ballon d'Or at stake. If the Old Lady could beat the Catalans, he would increase his chances of becoming the best player in the world by a significant margin. But if the results were the other way round, then Lionel Messi, the incredible star of Barcelona, would most likely win that prestigious award another time.

"Paolo!" Greta Stefani, a bubbly-looking girl who was one of his friends, called out. "Don't stand there and ruin the mood. Come and join us! Let's take a selfie to commemorate this moment."

Paolo smiled and nodded. He quickly joined his other friends, and they started posing for photographs while still within the boisterous crowd of Juventus supporters. They repeatedly immortalized the moments before the final, hoping to keep them alive forever, especially if Juventus came out on top after the game.

But could they get their wish? Would their dreams come true? Would they witness their team winning the Champions League trophy and finally completing a long-awaited quadruple? They would start getting answers to their questions when the match between Juventus and Barcelona commenced in three hours.

The pre-match extravaganzas continued as the minutes flashed by. The atmosphere grew even more heated as more and more enthusiastic football devotees crowded along the streets leading to the stadium. There were also droves of many others who were impatient. They didn't wait outside the stadium for the teams to arrive but headed inside, hoping to grab their seats before it was too late.

One and a half hours passed just like that, and the clock hands around Berlin finally pointed to the 7:15 PM mark. It was at that moment that the visage of the first team bus started appearing in the distance, causing all the waiting fans outside the stadium to go even more wild with excitement.

The bus in question snaked its way through the crowds, and before long, everyone outside the stadium could make out its blue and garnet colors, meaning it belonged to Barcelona.

On realizing what it represented, most of the Juventus supporters crowding along the roads wrinkled their faces with annoyance. It was as if their eyes had accidentally landed on the foulest substance in the world, and they quickly turned their heads away with irritation.

But it was a different story for the Barcelona fans, who immediately turned more jubilant. They cheered with more zeal, their passionate voices constantly vocalizing names like Lionel Messi, Neymar, Iniesta, and Luis Suárez as they watched their team bus slowly approach the stadium entrance.

In response, some of the Barcelona players, like Gerard Piqué, Dani Alves, Neymar, and Luis Suárez, pushed their heads out of the bus windows and waved to the crowds, causing more waves of delight to explode all over the place.

But that was only the beginning, and the excitement levels soon reached a climax when the Barcelona players began alighting from the bus. All the famous stars, including the mesmerizing Lionel Messi, the incredible Iniesta, and the tantalizing Neymar, all walked with a purpose as they left the bus and headed towards the stadium entrance. Of course, some waved to the waiting fans once or twice, causing them to almost die from delight before they disappeared into the tunnels leading to the dressing room.

"Did you just notice that," Enzo Ballesteros, a young man sporting a Barcelona jersey, said. "This is real... I think Messi just waved and smiled at me..."

"Stop dreaming!" Andres Castellano, his friend similarly in a Barcelona jersey, squashed his claims without fear or favor. "We're standing behind dozens of supporters wearing the same Barcelona jersey. How could Messi's gaze jump over all those people to wave and smile at you? Do you think you're his long-lost relative?"

"I knew you wouldn't believe me even when I'm speaking the truth," Enzo said with a casual shrug. "Andres! Do you think we'll win the final? Do you believe that we'll beat Juventus and achieve European glory?"

"We surely will," Andres Castellano said emphatically. "All our stars are in great shape. Messi is as great as ever, while other players like Rakitić, Busquets, Neymar, Iniesta, and Suárez are at the top of their games. But on the side of Juventus, Zachary Bemba has just returned from injury, while Andrea Pirlo is doubtful for the final. Without those two, Juventus will lack the sharpness they have commanded all season, and we can defeat them by playing our usual game of denying them possession."

Enzo was just about to say something else. But right then, a commotion broke out from the other side of the road occupied by the Juventus fans. Thinking of something, he turned towards the distance and saw Juventus' bus slowly approaching.

It snaked through the boisterous crowds and quickly arrived before the gates. Without further ado, the Juventus players, including Zachary and the supposedly injured Andrea Pirlo, alighted from the vehicle and waved to the fans before disappearing towards the tunnels.

"Juventus! Juve..."

"Andrea..."

"Zachary Bemba..."

"Carlos Tevez..."

At that instant, the Juventus fans showed why they were the big bosses of Europe when it came to cheering their teams. They yelled like there was no tomorrow, their chorus of chaotic voices hitting a drawn-out crescendo until all the Juventus players had disappeared inside the stadium entrance. After that, they all started rushing towards the stadium gates like a flood, eager to take their seats before the warm-up routines of both teams commenced.

Zachary followed his teammates down the stairs and into the tunnels leading to the dressing room. He had arrived with his teammates and coaches in Berlin the previous evening, and as planned, they had spent the night at the historic Hotel Berlin.

After enjoying a peaceful night of rest, they followed a morning routine of having breakfast, inspecting the pitch of the Olympiastadion, and going through a light training session under the supervision of the Juventus coaches. Then, aside from taking meals, they spent the rest of the day relaxing in their rooms, and here they were now, ready to play the UEFA Champions League final against Barcelona.

Zachary's heart pumped fast with boundless excitement as he walked towards the dressing room. The almost-silent waves of cheers trickling into his ears continuously ignited his fighting spirit. He was growing more and more eager to step on the pitch and perform at his best.

He was obviously aware that he had just returned from injury and was not yet at his peak. But he truly believed that he could overcome that small hardship with his incredible array of skills. He would also utilize his passion for the game to overcome his limits and ensure that he did his part during the game. He didn't wish to let his teammates down.

Boundless expectations flashed through his head as he followed his teammates and coaches. Under the guidance of the UEFA officials, they soon arrived before their assigned dressing room. But before they could enter, the door on the other side opened, and the Barcelona players, including Messi, Neymar, Iniesta, and several others, started striding out.

Without as much as saying a simple hi, the Catalans, who were already in their warm-up gear, slowly made their way past the similarly silent Juventus players. They treated the Old Lady players like air and didn't say any needless greetings. Then, under the lead of Andrés Iniesta, their captain, they soon picked up their pace and started disappearing around the bend leading to the pitch.

Zachary could feel the tension building around the rest of his teammates and coaches as they all watched the disappearing backs of the Barcelona players. The fighting spirit around the team was palpable, and the vibrancy of some players, like Patrice Evra and Stephan Lichtsteiner, who would be facing off against Messi and Neymar, was sky-high. One thing was for sure. All the Juventus players yearned to step onto the pitch and do their best to help their team win the final.

"Well! What are you all gawking at?"

Coach Max Allegri's voice dissipated the tense atmosphere around the place just after the Barcelona players disappeared around the bend. As usual, he had dressed to kill, his fitting black suit, matching tie, and gentle shoes making him look like the perfect gentleman. But his eyes were the opposite of what a gentleman should possess. They exuded an intense fighting spirit as he swept them across his players.

"As you can all see, we're a bit behind the opponents," he said. "Let's hurry and prepare before heading to the pitch for our pre-match warm-up."

"Yes, coach," the players replied before flooding into the dressing room.