Sevilla vs Manchester City,
The Ramón Sánchez Pizjuán was heaving with noise. Sevilla's fans, draped in red and white, created a cauldron of intimidation, their banners waving as chants rolled down from the steep stands. Manchester City arrived as defending champions of Europe, their aura growing with each passing game. Eleven wins in the league, two dominant victories already in the group, and now they walked into Andalusia with the calmness of a team that believed destiny bent to their will. Adriano, wearing the captain's armband again, looked composed as he led the team onto the pitch, his eyes locked forward.
City lined up in Pellegrini's trusted 4-3-3. Joe Hart, back in goal, tapped each post and crouched in concentration. In defense, Kimmich and Kolarov flanked the imposing central pair of Kompany and Hummels. Yaya Touré started alongside David Silva, with Adriano just ahead of them pulling the strings. The attacking trident was terrifying: Son on the right, Hazard left, Aguero through the middle. Sevilla, proud and stubborn, lined up aggressively in a 4-2-3-1 with Banega orchestrating, Vitolo and Konoplyanka out wide, and Kevin Gameiro leading the line.
From the first whistle, the tone was set. Sevilla pressed aggressively, the front trio pushing high on Hart's distribution, forcing the City defenders to play quickly. Kompany barked instructions: "Settle! Use the width!" Robertson and Kimmich spread wide, looking to stretch the press. Adriano, already scanning furiously, dropped deep to receive from Yaya Touré, shouldering off pressure from Iborra before slipping a neat pass toward Silva. The Spanish maestro turned into space, only to be clipped by Krychowiak. A free kick was given, and already the referee was warning Sevilla about their combative edge.
Martin Tyler's voice carried through the broadcast, calm but charged with anticipation: "Sevilla are not going to make this easy. They want to impose themselves physically, especially here at home." Alan Smith added, "Yes, and you can see City's plan already—Adriano dropping between the lines, Silva trying to dictate tempo. If they can ride out this early storm, there will be gaps."
The opening exchanges were frantic. In the 5th minute, Hazard accelerated down the left, ghosting past Mariano and pulling a cross into the area. Aguero darted to meet it, but Carriço lunged in with a desperate block, the ball spinning out for a corner. Hazard slapped Aguero's back with a grin: "Next one, Kun, it's yours." The corner, swung in by Silva, found Hummels rising above everyone. His header was powerful but straight into Sergio Rico's gloves. The Sevilla keeper raised his fist to the crowd, earning a roar of approval.
Sevilla countered with menace. In the 8th minute, Vitolo burst down the flank, cutting inside Kimmich and curling a dangerous ball into the box. Gameiro lunged, sliding studs just inches from the ball, but Hart read it early and smothered, clutching tight. Kompany turned, shouting, "Focus! No free runs!" Hummels gave a thumbs-up, nodding grimly.
The match settled into a rhythm: Sevilla energetic, snapping into tackles, forcing errors; City calm, probing with passes through Adriano and Silva. In the 13th minute, Yaya intercepted a stray ball and surged forward like a tank, brushing off Banega's attempt to foul him. Spotting Son Heung-Min peeling wide, he released him. Son's first touch was sharp, and he immediately squared across the top of the box. Adriano arrived, shaping to strike, but N'Zonzi threw himself in the way, blocking with his thigh. The rebound fell back to De Bruyne, who smashed from distance—just wide.
Tyler rose with the shot: "Ohhh, De Bruyne! That wasn't far away at all." Smith added, "This is what they do, City. They just keep coming at you from all angles. If it's not Hazard, it's Silva, if it's not Aguero, it's De Bruyne. And you-know-who, Adriano, lurking for that killer ball."
By the 20th minute, the tension was unbearable for the home crowd. Sevilla fans whistled furiously each time City strung passes together. A flicker of silence came when Silva worked a one-two with Adriano in midfield. Adriano, with a cheeky flick of his heel, released the Spaniard down the inside-left channel. Silva took one touch, then threaded a through ball past two defenders, perfectly weighted for Aguero. The Argentine darted between Carriço and Rami, his run timed to perfection. With Rico charging out, Aguero slotted coolly to the far corner.
"GOAAAAALLLLL!" Tyler exploded. "Sergio Agüero, as clinical as ever, and Manchester City lead here in Seville!"
The away end erupted, blue flares sparking in celebration. Aguero ran toward the City bench, pointing to Silva and embracing him, then turning to clap Adriano for the pre-assist flick. Adriano grinned and ruffled Aguero's hair. The captain jogged back to his position, shouting, "Keep the focus! More to come!"
The stadium noise turned to anger—jeers and whistles cascading onto the pitch. Sevilla players huddled near the halfway line. Banega clapped his teammates, urging them to push back.
Sevilla nearly found an equalizer five minutes later. Mariano surged forward, delivering a cross into the heart of the area. Gameiro rose above Kimmich and headed toward goal, but Hart, diving low to his left, clawed it away brilliantly. Kompany cleared the rebound. Tyler roared, "And what a save that is from Joe Hart! Strong wrist, strong hand. City's lead preserved."
The match's intensity continued. Fouls flew in—Silva tripped cynically by Krychowiak; Yaya pulling Vitolo's shirt as he turned; Kompany smashing clear with Gameiro sliding in late. The referee's whistle became almost constant, but still no cards were shown, much to the fury of both benches.
In the 34th minute, City produced another breathtaking move. Adriano collected the ball near the center circle, turned past Banega with a shimmy, and drove forward. Hazard made a diagonal run inside, dragging Rami with him. That opened the lane, and Adriano slid the ball to Aguero. The striker, rather than shoot, laid it back instantly. Silva arrived, shaped his body, and curled a perfect left-foot strike inside the far post.
"David Silva! Magic, absolute magic!" Tyler shouted, his voice nearly drowned by the roar of the away fans. Smith chuckled beside him, "And Adriano again at the heart of it. He draws players in, sees the space, and it's Silva who applies the masterpiece finish. City are purring."
Adriano sprinted to Silva, lifting him off his feet in a bear hug, shouting, "¡Maestro!" Aguero clapped them both, shouting, "That's how we kill them, eh?" Robertson, jogging back, smirked: "They can't stop this."
Sevilla, desperate not to be humiliated at home, threw men forward. In the 38th minute, Banega lofted a free kick into the box, and N'Zonzi met it with a towering header—only to send it over the bar. Hart roared at his defenders: "Track your men!" Kompany punched his chest, rallying them to stay compact.
The half edged toward its close with both sides trading blows. Hazard stung Rico's gloves with a sharp shot after twisting past Mariano. Son almost teed up Adriano on the edge of the box, only for Carriço to intercept at the last moment. Sevilla had one more chance when Vitolo rifled a shot from distance, but Hart held firm.
When the whistle finally blew, City jogged toward the tunnel two goals to the good. The away fans belted out "Blue Moon" while Adriano raised his hand toward them, applauding their relentless support. Sevilla trudged off in frustration, boos ringing around the Sánchez Pizjuán. The scoreboard read: Sevilla 0, Manchester City 2.
*****
The second half began with a different energy, the stadium swelling with determination from the Sevilla faithful. Down two goals, they knew they had to strike back quickly to avoid being swept aside by City's relentless rhythm. The whistles that had accompanied every Manchester City touch in the first half grew louder, sharper, more urgent. And for the first few minutes, Sevilla responded with a ferocity that showed they weren't ready to bow out just yet.
Banega immediately tried to seize control, driving the ball forward with authority. In the 47th minute, he combined with Vitolo down the left, drawing a foul from Kimmich when the German defender stretched too far trying to cut the pass. The free kick was dangerous, swung into the box by Banega himself. N'Zonzi rose high, colliding with Hummels mid-air, and headed inches over Hart's crossbar. The home crowd rose in unison, groaning in frustration, hands clasped to heads. Hart pointed at Hummels and Kompany, shouting, "Talk! Talk! Don't lose your man!"
City weathered that scare, and almost immediately punished Sevilla at the other end. Adriano picked up possession near the halfway line, shielding from Iborra with his characteristic blend of flair and strength. He spun, accelerated, and slipped the ball out to Hazard, who was hugging the left touchline. Hazard, always threatening when isolated, cut inside Mariano with a quick shift of pace and arrowed a low shot toward the near post. Rico, scrambling, got down quickly to save with his legs, pushing the ball away. Aguero darted onto the rebound but Sakho—tracking desperately—just managed to nick it away for a corner.
The Etihad's traveling fans roared in delight at their side's intent. Martin Tyler's voice lifted: "It's as if City are saying, 'We've given you your chance, Sevilla, and now we'll show you ours.'" Alan Smith added, "You can just see the belief flowing through them. Adriano again at the center, orchestrating everything. He looks like he's playing with all the time in the world."
But Sevilla weren't done. In the 53rd minute, Banega spotted Vitolo's run behind Kimmich and threaded a ball through. Vitolo pulled it across goal, and there was Gameiro sliding in. For a heartbeat, the home fans thought the net would bulge—but Kompany's boot appeared at the last second, hacking the ball clear. "That's the captain's intervention!" Tyler exclaimed. "Vincent Kompany, a colossus in City's defense."
Then, the moment Sevilla craved. In the 56th minute, persistence paid off. Vitolo again burst down the flank, exchanging passes with Banega. His low cross was only half-cleared by Hummels. The ball broke kindly to Gameiro, who lashed it toward goal. Hart parried brilliantly, but the rebound fell directly to Konoplyanka, who had just come on. With one touch, he rifled the ball high into the roof of the net. The stadium exploded. Red and white flags waved furiously, the roar thunderous.
"Sevilla have a lifeline!" Tyler bellowed. "It's 2–1, and this place is shaking."
Kompany slammed his hands together, shouting to his teammates, "Heads up! Heads up! Nothing changes!" But the City players felt the pressure for the first time. Hazard, jogging back, muttered to Adriano, "We need another, quickly." Adriano, calm as ever, replied, "We will. Trust me."
And he delivered almost immediately. Barely eight minutes later, in the 64th minute, City struck with devastating precision. It began deep in midfield with Yaya Touré muscling past Banega and feeding De Bruyne. The Belgian carried the ball forward before spotting Adriano in a pocket of space between Sevilla's midfield and defense. De Bruyne zipped a pass into him, and with one elegant touch, Adriano turned.
Facing the goal 25 yards out, he surged forward, exchanged a slick one-two with Aguero, then drilled a right-footed shot low into the corner. The net rippled, the blue shirts exploded in joy, and the away fans went berserk.
"Adrianoooo!" Tyler's voice cracked with excitement. "The King of Manchester City restores their two-goal cushion, and what composure under pressure!"
Adriano sprinted toward the away fans, sliding on his knees, arms stretched wide. Hazard and Aguero caught up, piling onto him, while Silva came jogging over, laughing, patting him on the head: "Always when we need it most, eh?" Adriano just pointed toward De Bruyne, shouting, "Perfect pass!" Kompany raised a fist toward the sky, relief and belief etched into his expression.
Sevilla looked deflated, and City sensed blood. The home crowd's roar turned anxious, scattered whistles giving way to silence in patches. The Andalusians tried to push forward again, but City controlled the tempo brilliantly. Adriano began to dictate the rhythm, slowing the ball, spreading passes from left to right, orchestrating like a veteran far beyond his nineteen years.
In the 71st minute, Son Heung-Min, just introduced for Hazard, immediately made an impact. He drew a foul from Mariano 30 yards out, dead center. The referee whistled, and the stadium tensed. Adriano stepped up.
Silva whispered to him, "This is yours. Hit it clean." Adriano nodded, eyes fixed on the ball, legs apart in concentration. He curled it with his right foot over the wall, dipping late. Rico stretched, fingertips brushing air, but the ball was perfect—nestled into the top corner.
The away section exploded, limbs flailing, blue scarves whirling. "Adriano again!" Tyler shouted, his voice almost drowned out. "A hat-trick hero in Seville! This boy is not just a star—he's a phenomenon!" Alan Smith added, "The goalkeeper knew what was coming, but he couldn't stop it. That's the mark of greatness."
Adriano turned to the away fans, pumping his fists, then looked up at the VIP section where Kate was waving her blue scarf frantically. He blew a kiss toward her, a small grin flashing across his face. His teammates mobbed him, Son laughing as he shouted, "Teach me that free kick, brother!"
At 4–1, the atmosphere shifted completely. Sevilla's fight seemed broken. Their passes grew slower, their runs shorter, the frustration visible on their faces. Banega kicked the turf in anger after overhitting a ball. Vitolo lashed out with a late challenge on Kimmich, earning himself a yellow card. The once-roaring stadium was subdued, punctuated only by groans each time City intercepted yet another pass.
City, meanwhile, controlled proceedings with ease. Yaya Touré, sitting deeper now, commanded the midfield like a general, his booming voice carrying through the quieting crowd. "Keep it, keep it," he urged. Silva and De Bruyne obliged, recycling possession with Adriano dropping deep, then suddenly surging forward to spark counters.
In the 78th minute, Aguero nearly made it five, released by Son's clever through ball. The Argentine rounded Rico but dragged his shot into the side netting. Aguero grinned sheepishly, tapping his temple as if to say, "Next time." Adriano patted his shoulder, whispering, "You'll get yours."
The final ten minutes drifted into a training exercise. City knocked the ball around confidently, Sevilla chasing shadows, their energy drained. Even Hart got involved, stepping up outside his box to ping precise passes to the fullbacks. The City fans sang relentlessly: "We're not really here" echoing through the stadium, their joy filling the air that Sevilla's supporters had once dominated.
When the referee finally blew the whistle, the scoreboard read Sevilla 1, Manchester City 4. The players in sky blue embraced one another. Adriano, ball tucked under his arm as the match-ball souvenir, raised three fingers to the away fans, who roared in reply. Silva hugged him tightly, Aguero lifted his arm, and Kompany slapped his back proudly: "That's why you're the king."
On the other side, Sevilla's players trudged off, beaten but not disgraced. Their fans applauded their effort, but they knew they had been outclassed. In the center of it all, Adriano lingered a moment longer, saluting the traveling supporters before heading down the tunnel, another chapter in his growing legend written in bold letters across Europe.
*****
Adriano wasn't sure whether the best part of beating Sevilla 4–1 was the final whistle itself or the moment Pellegrini handed him the following day off. He'd smiled politely during the manager's announcement in the dressing room, but inside he'd been buzzing. A whole day. No training drills, no tactical meetings, no media duties—just time to himself.
And when Kate asked what he wanted to do with it, his answer came without hesitation: "You. Just you."
So by mid-morning, after a late breakfast at the hotel, the two of them slipped out into the streets of Seville hand in hand, hoping to be ordinary tourists for once. They wore caps and sunglasses, trying their best to blend in, but it didn't matter. Within minutes the first murmurs had started. Someone noticed Adriano's unmistakable jawline. Someone else recognized Kate's hair, her face from magazines. Whispers turned into phones being raised, turned into shouts of, "¡Mira, Adriano! ¡Es él, el futbolista!"
Kate squeezed his hand. "Keep walking. Don't stop, babe."
"I know," Adriano muttered, forcing a smile as he nodded politely at the fans surging closer. Within seconds, they were surrounded—young kids shoving paper scraps for signatures, teenagers angling for selfies, older men shouting compliments in Spanish he only half understood. And of course, cameras flashing Kate's way, some people clearly more excited about her presence than his.
She leaned closer, whispering through her fake smile, "This is what happens when two recognizable people try to sneak around in Spain. Genius plan, by the way."
"Hey, I thought the hat would help," Adriano muttered back, trying not to laugh.
"Yeah," she said dryly. "You're six-foot-two, built like a Greek statue, and walking around with me. The hat definitely makes you invisible."
He chuckled, even as he signed another jersey shoved in front of him. "Alright, alright. Maybe we run for it?"
Kate raised an eyebrow. "Run? In these shoes? You're the athlete, not me."
"I'll carry you if I have to."
She grinned despite herself. "Don't tempt me."
Eventually they managed to slip down a side street, ducking into a quiet alleyway and leaning against the wall, both a little out of breath. Adriano pushed his cap back and laughed softly. "We are suffering from success."
Kate tilted her head back and laughed, brushing her hair out of her face. "That's one way to put it." She sighed, still smiling. "I don't think we'll get any quiet time here, babe."
He shrugged, wry smile tugging at his lips. "Guess it's the price we pay for being so damn good-looking."
Kate elbowed him playfully. "Cocky much?"
"Not cocky. Confident." He grinned, then added softly, "And lucky, because you're with me."
She rolled her eyes, though her cheeks flushed slightly. "Alright, Mr. Smooth. How about this—we ditch the city. Let's just head to the beach for an hour, then relax at the hotel. We've got a flight tomorrow anyway."
He looked at her, then nodded. "Deal. Beach it is."
The beach they found was quiet, tucked away from the main tourist strips. A stretch of pale sand, the tide rolling in lazily, the sun already dipping lower in the sky. Hardly anyone else around—just the occasional jogger and a couple walking their dog far in the distance. For once, no camera lenses. No shouts of his name. Just the sound of waves.
Kate stretched out a towel and lay down in her bikini, sighing contentedly. Adriano sat beside her, pulling a bottle of sunscreen from the bag. "Alright, sunscreen time. Don't want you turning into a lobster."
She tilted her head lazily toward him. "You're going to do it for me? How thoughtful."
"Of course. Perks of dating me." He squeezed some onto his hands, rubbing them together before carefully starting on her shoulders. Kate closed her eyes, humming softly at his touch.
As his hands drifted lower, lingering perhaps longer than necessary over her hips and backside, she cracked one eye open and smirked. "You've put more sunscreen there than the rest of my body, babe."
Adriano chuckled. "I can do the same for your front too, if you want."
She laughed, rolling onto her side to face him. "Maybe when we're not in public. If you rile me up here, we might end up on the front page as a scandal."
"Wouldn't want that now, would we?" he murmured, grinning as he lay back beside her.
Kate propped herself up on her elbow, looking at him fondly. "It's good to see you're just as interested as when we first started dating over a year ago."
He turned his head toward her, expression softening. "Can't help it. You're perfect."
Her eyes shimmered slightly before she smiled and leaned down to kiss him. It wasn't hurried or heated—just slow, tender, the kind that said more than words could. She pulled back, resting her forehead against his. "You're too good at this, you know that?"
"Good at what?"
"Making me feel like I'm the only girl in the world."
"That's because you are," he said simply.
She hugged him, burying her face against his chest. For a while, they just lay there, listening to the waves and each other's steady breathing. The world, for once, felt still.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the water in streaks of orange and pink, Kate finally stirred. "We should head back before it gets too dark."
"Yeah," Adriano agreed, though his voice was reluctant. "Could stay here forever though."
She smiled. "You'd get bored without a ball at your feet after ten minutes."
"True," he admitted, grinning. "But maybe I could survive with you keeping me company."
Back at the hotel, they ordered dinner—nothing fancy, just room service pasta and salad, eaten while sprawled across the bed together. Kate twirled spaghetti on her fork and teased, "So, Mr. Superstar, how does it feel knowing the whole football world is watching you right now?"
He shrugged, chewing. "Honestly? I don't think about it. I just play. The rest… doesn't matter."
"Doesn't matter, huh?" She arched an eyebrow. "Not even the Ballon d'Or?"
He smiled faintly. "That was nice. But what matters is winning games. Helping my team. And—" he paused, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, "—having nights like this with you."
She blushed, trying to hide it by taking another bite of pasta. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Impossible to resist," he said cheekily.
Kate laughed, shaking her head. "One day that ego of yours is going to explode."
"Only if you stop keeping it in check."
After dinner, they put the trays aside, changed into lighter clothes, and climbed into bed. They'd planned to watch a movie, but the screen stayed dark. Kate, full of restless energy, kissed him first. It started slow, playful, but quickly deepened. Her hands tangled in his hair, his fingers tracing her waist. Words became unnecessary; the room filled only with the sound of their laughter, whispers, and the kind of intimacy they both craved but rarely had time for.
Hours slipped by unnoticed. Their passion burned long into the night, both unwilling to let go. By the time they finally collapsed together, sweaty and exhausted, dawn was only a couple of hours away.
Kate curled against him, eyes heavy, lips curved in a tired smile. "We're going to regret this in the morning."
Adriano kissed her forehead, holding her tight. "Worth it."
"Always worth it," she murmured, drifting into sleep.
And as Adriano closed his eyes, his last thought before surrendering to exhaustion was simple: life was good.
******
Adriano's Stats 2015-16 Season
Premier League
Match: 13
Goals: 21
Assists: 9
Champions League
Match:3
Goal: 6
Assist: 2
Community Shield
Match: 1
Goals : 2
Assists: 2
Capital One Cup
Match: 1
Goal: 3
Assists: 0
Euro Qualifiers
Match: 4
Goals: 6
Assist: 2