Rio stepped off the team bus and felt the vibration in the floorboards.
"Welcome to the thunderdome," Jack Grealish muttered, adjusting his Gucci washbag. "Smell that? That's the smell of overpriced hotdogs and hatred."
Rio took a deep breath. It smelled of cut grass, deep heat, and rain.
He walked into the changing room. His shirt—LANCE 7—was hanging there. It looked heavy.
Pep Guardiola was already pacing. He was wearing his "big game" suit—a tight black turtleneck and tailored trousers. He looked like he hadn't slept in three days.
"Listen to me," Pep whispered, his voice echoing in the silent room. "United. They are emotional. They play on vibes. We do not play on vibes. We play on structure."
He slammed his hand on the tactical board.
"Bernardo, you hold the width. Phil, you drift inside. Erling, you destroy Martinez. Simple."
Rio sat on the bench, watching. He wasn't in the starting XI. He was the "Chaos Option."
He looked at his phone one last time.
