Football God; Forging a Legacy

[UEFA Champions League Round of 16- Tuesday Fixtures:]

(Barcelona vs Juventus)

(Venue: Spotify Camp Nou)

The night sky over Barcelona came alive on the 4th of March. Not with stars, but with floodlights and fire as 90,000 Culés packed into the Spotify Camp Nou, their chants rolling like thunder across the terraces.

Red and blue mosaics glowed in every stand as Barca's official anthem, the "Cant del Barça" rose into the air like a hymn of war.

At the edge of the tunnel, Sam Moses stood still for a moment, his head tilted back, eyes closed, breathing in the electricity as he savored the moment.

Camp Nou was a cauldron.

"Sam!" "Sam!" "Sam!"

They sang his name.

He was just 21, but he was already the man Europe feared most.

Not only was he the reigning Ballon d'Or winner, he was the nightmare defenders stayed awake thinking about. And tonight, the Juventus backline had the impossible task of stopping him.

When you add the likes of Pedri and Lamine Yamal into the equation, Juventus were facing an uphill battle at the Spotify Camp Nou.

But they entered the stadium with faces of steel, ready for an upset.

The commentary caught the moment as the players lined up.

"Ladies and gentlemen, remember the name, Sam Moses, 48 goals and 30 assists this season already. Juventus say they've got a plan for him and Lamine Yamal, let's see how long that lasts".

FWEEEE!

The whistle blew, and all hell broke loose.

From the very first touch that he took, Sam revealed his weapon for the night. Not shots, not dribbles, not even assists, but movement.

Juventus came to man-mark him and manhandle him. Knowing this, Hansi Flick planned for it as Sam dropped into midfield with the guile of a phantom, forcing Gatti, Juventus's rugged center-back to step out of the line.

In that instant, space tore open behind him, and Barcelona's wingers charged in like wolves released from the chain.

Yamal moved like a formless breeze on the right, his feet gliding past Cabal and then Kelly with ease as he forced them to dig deep just to keep up with him.

On the left, Raphinha began cutting inside with fire in his boots.

And every time either of the two wingers surged forward, the defenders weren't sure whether to chase or track back because Sam was somewhere in between, a silhouette they couldn't ignore.

He barely touched the ball in the opening five minutes, yet Juventus were already creaking. The Camp Nou sensed it, their chants swelling louder.

Then, Barca drew first blood.

The breakthrough came on the quarter-hour mark.

Sam feinted a run across the box, dragging Kelly wide, while also dragging Gatti with him. His run was chaos, a magnetic pull the defenders couldn't resist.

And in that split second, Pedri spotted the gap and threaded a pass through the middle, straight into Raphinha's path who was free.

The Brazilian slammed it home without hesitation.

BAM!

1-0.

The Spotify Camp Nou detonated as red and blue flags whipped through the night sky. The noise was a wall of pure ecstasy as flares crackled.

"GOOOOAAAL BARCELONA! AND IT'S RAPINHA!"

"But look again, ladies and gentlemen, that's all Samuel Moses. He never touched the ball, but he tore Juve's defense in half with a single run!"

"His presence alone is a threat!"

Sam pointed to Raphinha and clapped his hands in celebration, but the glint in his eyes said everything. He was ready for more chaos.

But Juve weren't lambs to the slaughter.

Barca had the momentum, but against the run of play, the visitors struck back before they could double their lead in the 32nd minute of the game.

A Barcelona corner was cleared, and suddenly the black and white shirts surged forward in numbers. Koopmeiners switched play to Yildiz on the left. The Turkish wonderkid went on a quick burst, then pulled back a perfect cross.

Jonathan David stood tall.

One chance was enough as he leapt highest, and his header thundered into the top corner past Joan Garcia's desperate glove.

1-1.

The away fans in the corner exploded into delirium. The stadium shivered into silence, broken only by their chants.

For a heartbeat, doubt flickered across the faces of Barcelona's young squad, but not Sam's. He clenched his fists, barking instructions, dragging his teammates back into shape like the leader.

Tonight, he was leading even without the captain's armband.

From then on, it was a deluge of attacks as every time Barcelona pushed forward, Juventus' defenders looked like they were drowning.

Sam toyed with them, spamming shoulder drops, sudden sprints that disrupted their rhythm, then drifting deep to lay off silky backheels into midfield.

He was a menace.

One sequence in the 40th minute drew roars from the fans as Sam controlled a high ball with his chest, flicked it around Gatti with his heel, then spun and backheeled again into Yamal's stride.

Lamine Yamal bent his shot just inches wide as Barca fans groaned in agony. The replay showed the defenders' faces that were full of fear, confusion, and exhaustion as Sam led the pressure against them.

Even when the ball didn't end in the net, Sam was a threat.

Juventus had survived, the first half was seemingly heading to an end level like the 3 other games tonight.

But nah, not Barca.

Just before halftime, Barcelona earned a corner.

Pedri whipped it in. Immediately, Sam darted toward the near post, dragging two defenders like moths to a flame.

With the focus of the defenders desperately on his run, space opened behind him like a wound. Ronald Araujo, Barcelona's captain and rock thundered into it and smashed a header into the net.

2-1.

BOOM!

The Camp Nou exploded again.

Sam roared with the crowd, his chest heaving with his eyes dilated in ecstasy and adrenaline. He hadn't scored, hadn't assisted, but once again it was his invisible hand writing the script.

[HALF-TIME: Barcelona 2-1 Juventus]

…

The second half was a battle of willpower as Juventus tightened their lines and sank deep, desperate not to concede again.

Despite this, Sam remained a constant thorn, dropping between midfielders, spinning into space, sometimes even holding the ball up with his back to goal as three defenders swarmed him.

The fans chanted his name every time he touched the ball.

"SAAAAAAM!" "SAAAAAAM!"

And then came the moment that killed Juve's spirit.

The dagger came in the 78th minute.

Sam dropped all the way into midfield, collecting a pass from De Jong. Gatti followed him again, reckless but desperate.

Reading his intentions like a book, Sam pivoted, sharp as lightning as he evaded the powerful center back, but Gatti grabbed his jersey desperately, pulling him back.

Sam didn't fall though. Instead, he released Yamal into the gap with a single sweeping pass.

Kelly jumped on a sweeping tackle to intercept; his leg touched the ball, redirecting it but it still fell into Yamal's path.

As soon as he received the ball, the Spanish wonderkid erupted.

BZZZ!

Lamine Yamal tore forward like a streak of fire down the wing. He cut inside, drove at Kalulu, and then smashed the ball into the bottom corner with venom.

BAM!

3-1.

The stadium went nuclear after that.

It wouldn't go down as Sam's assist due to Kelly's interference, but everyone saw the replay. Everyone knew where it began.

"Yamal with the goal, but it's Sam Moses again!" The commentator howled. "Best in the world bar none!"

"No goal, no assist on the stat sheet, but he's the architect of this Barcelona storm! Juventus are being ripped apart by a man who doesn't even need to score!"

When the whistle finally blew, the scoreboard read Juventus's fate.

[FULLTIME: Barcelona 3-1 Juventus]

Barcelona would walk to the Allianz Stadium with a 2 goal advantage.

At the end, the Spotify Camp Nou shook as if it might collapse as flags waved and fans sang into the night, their voices hoarse but unbroken.

Sam walked slowly toward the tunnel, drenched in sweat as he waved at the fans. They went bonkers at the gesture.

The Juventus defenders trudged behind him, pale and broken, whispering to each other as disbelief was clearly etched on their faces.

On the sideline, Igor Tudor, Juventus coach's face was stone.

In front of the media, his lips moved almost like a confession.

"He destroyed our shape without scoring once". He admitted with all honesty.

Inside the Barcelona dressing room, Hansi Flick clasped Sam by the shoulder, leaning in close. "This was your match, remember that". He smiled.

"You don't need goals to conquer Europe."

Lewandowski hugged Sam after Hansi Flick. "Monster". He whispered at him with a smile.

Sam only smiled faintly, eyes drifting up to the scoreboard once more.

And as the noise of the Camp Nou roared behind him, he whispered under his breath. "This isn't finished".

"Turin is next".