The victory over Getafe had left the island humming with excitement. Newspapers christened it "The Neymar Show", the front pages plastered with the Brazilian's grin and the scoreboard in bold: 4–0. The phone lines on sports radio burned for hours, callers claiming this was the greatest Tenerife side they'd ever seen.
But Laurence González wasn't about to get lost in the excitement. He understood the reality — the upcoming matches would be tougher, more intense. Opponents wouldn't just come to admire Tenerife's style of play; they'd analyze, strategize, and adjust.
Levante, hovering just above the relegation zone, was precisely the type of team that could throw a wrench in their plans. Not flashy, but incredibly tough to break down. They thrived on making life difficult for others.
Laurence was the last one left at the training ground. The air in his office carried a hint of grass and coffee. The blinds were half-closed, casting a sliver of moonlight across his desk while the projector played highlights from Levante's last five matches.
Their formation was solid, a 4-3-3 that shifted into a deep 5-3-2 when they defended. They didn't press high up the pitch — instead, they drew you in, congested the midfield, and struck on the counter. Their forwards weren't the fastest, but they didn't need to be. Their threat came from the chaos: loose balls, second chances, and deflections.
Victor knocked gently and entered, a folder tucked under his arm.
"He's ready," Victor announced without any small talk.
Laurence looked up, surprised. "Kikoto?"
Victor confirmed with a nod. "The doctor gave him the green light. We'll manage his minutes — a maximum of sixty — but he's good to go."
A rare smile broke across Laurence's face.
--Matchday--
The Heliodoro Rodríguez López didn't quite have that electric carnival vibe like it did during the matches against Madrid or Getafe. This time, the atmosphere was charged with a different kind of tension — a sharp, expectant silence between the chants, making every touch feel weightier than usual.
Laurence's lineup was carefully crafted. Kikoto was back in the starting eleven alongside Ricardo León, with Casemiro being the anchor. Up front, Neymar, Joel Rodríguez, and Antoine Griezmann were ready to make their mark. Tonight wasn't about dazzling the fans; it was all about securing the win.
As the teams took their positions, Laurence shouted to his players: "They'll try to slow things down. Don't get caught up in their rhythm. Keep it quick, keep it sharp!"
Tenerife came out with enthusiasm, pressing high in pairs and threes. In those opening minutes, they were quick to challenge, with Neymar zipping down the left flank and Griezmann dropping back to connect the play.
But Levante held their ground. Twice, Rubén Suárez capitalized on loose balls, firing from distance and forcing Sergio Aragoneses into some early saves.
Then, in the 24th minute, Kikoto reminded everyone just what they'd been missing.
He intercepted a square pass in midfield and glided forward, head up. With one perfectly timed ball, he split two Levante midfielders, threading it right into Neymar's feet between the lines.
Neymar's touch was silky smooth, and his spin was immediate. Two defenders closed in, but he wriggled free and unleashed a curling shot toward the far post.
It struck the woodwork with a resounding thud.
Before the crowd's gasp had even faded, Joel was there, anticipating the rebound and heading it into the net.
1–0.
Laurence embraced Victor and gave a thumbs up to Joel.
By the thirty-ninth minute, the warning signs were clear — Levante was on the hunt for that one chance. It finally came when Tenerife carelessly lost the ball in midfield. A quick pass into space caught the defense off guard, and Cristian Stuani seized the moment, sending a low shot past Aragoneses.
1–1.
The stadium let out a collective groan, as if the air had been knocked out of it. Laurence placed his hands on his hips.
"RESET!" he shouted from the sidelines. "Calm down! Keep the ball moving!"
The rest of the half was a bit chaotic. Neymar dropped back to get more touches, Joel chased after half-chances, and Kikoto kept nipping at Levante's heels. But no one managed to break through before the whistle blew.
Then, in the 77th minute, the breakthrough came from a clever switch of play — Ricardo León, unmarked in midfield, noticed Griezmann slipping away from his marker. The pass was a long diagonal, perfectly arcing through the air.
Griezmann cushioned it on his chest, let it drop once, and volleyed with his weaker left foot. The keeper got a hand to it, but the shot was just too powerful.
2–1.
This time, Laurence's celebration was full of energy — a clenched fist, a shout to the fans, and a quick turn to the bench: "One more push! Keep the line tight!"
Levante threw caution to the wind, pushing everything forward. Crosses came pouring in, and in the 86th minute, Aragoneses managed to tip one over the bar.
Then, in the 89th minute, pure chaos erupted — a frantic scramble in the box, the ball dangerously bobbing toward the goal line. Victor Ruiz somehow managed to stretch out a toe and hook it clear just before it could cross.
The crowd erupted, their chants growing louder as they tried to will the clock to run faster.
Laurence paced along the touchline, barking out instructions at every pause in play.
Finally, the referee's whistle sliced through the tension.
You could see the relief wash over every player as they walked off the pitch. It might not have been pretty, but it was absolutely necessary.
In the tunnel, Laurence caught up with Kikoto, who was moving a bit stiffly but wore a faint smile.
"Great to have you back," Laurence said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
Kikoto nodded, breathless yet satisfied. "Feels like home again."
Laurence watched him head into the dressing room before turning to face the eager reporters. He already knew the angles they'd chase — Neymar's quiet performance, Griezmann's decisive goal, and Kikoto's much-anticipated return.