Liga 1 Results - Matchday 27 (While Andrei rested):
FCSB 2-1 FC Viitorul (Budescu, Alibec)
CFR Cluj 3-0 Dinamo București
Updated Standings:
CFR Cluj - 65 points
FCSB - 62 points
Universitatea Craiova - 52 points
Astra Giurgiu - 50 points
Cluj's relentless winning continued. The pressure on FCSB to match them was immense. But first—the impossible task of overturning a three-goal deficit against Lazio.
The week of training leading to the second leg was different. Reghecampf knew the odds were against them, so he freed the players from tactical rigidity.
"We need three goals minimum," he told them bluntly. "That means attacking with everything. If we concede—so what? We're already out. Might as well go down fighting."
The Stadionul Național buzzed with nervous energy on match night. 33,000 fans packed the stands, knowing they were likely witnessing FCSB's last European match of the season but determined to make it memorable.
Europa League Round of 16 - Second Leg
FCSB vs SS Lazio
Stadionul Național, Bucharest
March 23rd, 2017
FCSB Starting XI (4-2-4) - All-out attack:
GK: Andrei Vlad
DEF (RB): Romario Benzar
CB: Marko Momčilović
CB: Ionuț Panțîru
DEF (LB): Risto Radunović
CDM: Mihai Pintilii (C)
CDM: Filipe Teixeira
RW: Florinel Coman
CAM: Andrei Luca
CAM: Constantin Budescu
ST: Denis Alibec
Two attacking midfielders playing almost as strikers. Suicidal against quality opposition, but what choice did they have?
Lazio Starting XI (3-5-2):
GK: Thomas Strakosha
CB: Stefan de Vrij
CB: Wesley Hoedt
CB: Wallace
RM: Dusan Basta
CM: Sergej Milinković-Savić
CM: Marco Parolo
CM: Lucas Biglia
LM: Jordan Lukaku
ST: Ciro Immobile
ST: Felipe Anderson
Lazio played conservatively—they could afford to. Even one away goal would make FCSB's task nearly impossible.
The match kicked off to deafening noise. FCSB attacked from the first second, pressing high, taking risks. In the 7th minute, the breakthrough came.
Budescu received the ball 30 yards out and struck it viciously. Strakosha parried, but the rebound fell to Alibec, who bundled it home.
GOAL. 1-0 FCSB.
Aggregate: 3-1 Lazio. Still needed two more.
The stadium exploded. Suddenly, impossibly, there was hope.
FCSB continued attacking recklessly. In the 19th minute, disaster nearly struck—Immobile broke clear on the counter, one-on-one with Vlad. The Romanian goalkeeper saved brilliantly, keeping the dream alive.
In the 34th minute, magic happened.
Andrei picked up the ball on the left side of the penalty area, three Lazio defenders surrounding him. Normal play would be to recycle possession, keep the ball. But these weren't normal circumstances.
He feinted left, dropped his shoulder right, and squeezed between two defenders into space. De Vrij lunged desperately. Andrei touched it past him and struck with his left foot.
The shot deflected off Hoedt's outstretched leg, wrong-footing Strakosha completely.
GOAL. 2-0 FCSB.
Aggregate: 3-2 Lazio. One goal away from extra time.
The Stadionul Național erupted—flares lit the night sky, drums pounded like war thunder. Andrei was mobbed by teammates, the crowd's energy washing over him in waves.
**Goal Scored**
**Dribbling: +0.2 (beat multiple defenders in tight space)**
**Shooting: +0.1 (clinical finish under pressure)**
**Overall Rating: 70.2 → 71.1**
"ONE MORE!" Pintilii screamed, pulling players into a huddle. "ONE MORE AND WE'RE LEVEL!"
Lazio's coach Simone Inzaghi was screaming at his players from the touchline, frantically gesturing for them to push higher, regain control. They'd been comfortable, now they were rattled.
The rest of the first half was frantic. FCSB threw everything forward; Lazio tried to weather the storm and hit on the counter. Just before halftime, Milinković-Savić's shot grazed the post—a reminder that one away goal would kill the dream.
Halftime: 2-0. Thirty thousand people stood and applauded as the players left the pitch.
In the dressing room, Reghecampf was animated. "Forty-five minutes! We need ONE goal in forty-five minutes! Press them, suffocate them, don't let them breathe!"
The second half began with the same intensity. FCSB attacked in waves—Coman driving at defenders, Budescu spraying passes, Andrei constantly moving between the lines.
But Lazio was wise, experienced. They slowed the game down, held possession, made FCSB chase. Minutes ticked by—50, 55, 60. The dream was slipping away.
In the 63rd minute, Lazio nearly killed it. A quick counter, Immobile through on goal. Vlad saved again—his third crucial stop. The goalkeeper was keeping FCSB alive.
Reghecampf made changes—bringing on attacking midfielder Dennis Man for the tiring Teixeira, pushing everyone forward. It was now or never.
In the 71st minute, the miracle happened.
Radunović won a corner on the left. Every FCSB player pushed into the box—even Pintilii came forward from his defensive midfield position. The stadium stood as one, willing the ball into the net.
Budescu took the corner. He whipped it toward the near post—a training ground routine they'd practiced a hundred times.
Momčilović made the near-post run, flicking the ball on with his head. It sailed over Strakosha's outstretched hands, over the cluster of defenders, and fell perfectly for Andrei Luca at the back post.
Time slowed. Andrei could see everything—the ball dropping, Wallace desperately trying to get across, the goal gaping in front of him.
**Critical Moment:**
**Composure Check: MAXIMUM PRESSURE**
**Current: 60.8/99**
His father's voice echoed in his memory: *Make something of yourself.*
Andrei struck the ball with his right foot, a clean volley from eight yards out.
The net bulged.
GOAL. 3-0 FCSB.
Aggregate: 3-3. Extra time.
The stadium exploded into absolute pandemonium. Andrei was instantly buried under a pile of celebrating teammates. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only feel the pure joy of the impossible becoming real.
**GOAL SCORED - CRUCIAL MOMENT**
**Composure: +0.4 (performed in ultimate pressure situation)**
**Positioning: +0.2 (correct position at back post)**
**Overall Rating: 71.1 → 72.0**
**Rating Milestone: Broke through 72 barrier**
When the pile finally cleared, Andrei looked up at the stands. Somewhere in the press box, Elena was watching. His mother was watching at home in Iași. His father was watching from somewhere beyond.
He'd done it. They'd done it.
But the match wasn't over.
Lazio was shell-shocked but dangerous. For the final twenty minutes, they pushed forward desperately, knowing one goal would put them through on away goals. FCSB defended with everything—bodies thrown into blocks, last-ditch tackles, Vlad commanding his area like a man possessed.
In the 89th minute, chaos. A Lazio corner, bodies everywhere, the ball bouncing around the six-yard box. It fell to Sergej Milinković-Savić, the Serbian midfielder, six yards out with goal gaping.
He struck it cleanly—but somehow, impossibly, Momčilović threw himself into the path, the ball smashing into his face. He collapsed, blood streaming from his nose, but the danger was cleared.
The referee blew for full time immediately after, perhaps showing mercy.
90 minutes: 3-0 FCSB. Aggregate: 3-3.
Extra time beckoned.
---
The thirty-minute break felt eternal. FCSB's players were exhausted—they'd given everything. Lazio, despite the shock, was more experienced in these situations.
The medical team worked frantically on Momčilović, stuffing his nose with gauze to stop the bleeding. "Can you continue?" the doctor asked.
The center-back, face a mask of blood, just nodded.
"Fifteen more minutes," Reghecampf told them. "Don't think about penalty shootouts. Think about scoring. One more goal and we're through."
**Extra Time - First Half**
Both teams were cautious now, exhausted, afraid of mistakes. The pace dropped significantly. Every player was running on fumes.
Andrei could barely move. His legs felt like lead, his lungs burning with every breath.
**Stamina: 18% (critically low)**
**Physical capacity: Severely compromised**
**Warning: Injury risk elevated**
In the 98th minute, Lazio had their best chance. A through ball split FCSB's tired defense, and substitute striker Keita Baldé was clear. Just Vlad to beat.
The Senegalese forward struck it cleanly—but Vlad somehow got a hand to it, tipping it onto the post. The rebound was cleared desperately.
"COME ON!" Pintilii roared, refusing to let his team surrender.
The first period of extra time ended. 0-0. Fifteen more minutes.
**Extra Time - Second Half**
In the 107th minute, Reghecampf made his final substitution—Andrei off for fresh legs, for defensive reinforcement. The crowd gave him a standing ovation as he limped off, completely spent.
He collapsed on the bench, wrapped in a jacket, watching the final minutes with his heart in his throat.
FCSB was just holding on now, defending desperately, praying for penalties.
In the 119th minute, heartbreak.
Lazio won a free kick 25 yards out. Marco Parolo stepped up, the experienced Italian midfielder who'd played in World Cups and European Championships.
He struck it perfectly. The ball sailed over the wall and dipped viciously, catching the top corner. Vlad didn't move—couldn't move. It was unstoppable.
GOAL. 3-1 Lazio on the night.
Aggregate: 4-3 Lazio.
Away goals. Lazio was through.
The final whistle blew seconds later. It was over.
FCSB's players collapsed to the turf. Some in tears, others just staring blankly at the sky. They'd given everything, achieved the impossible, and still lost.
Andrei sat on the bench, unable to process it. Two goals, a comeback from 3-0 down, and it still wasn't enough.
**Match Complete:**
**Personal Rating: 8.9/10**
**2 Goals, Inspired Performance**
**But: Elimination from Europa League**
The Lazio players celebrated modestly, aware they'd just survived something special. Their captain Marco Parolo approached Andrei.
"You played beautifully tonight," he said in broken English. "You have a big future. Keep working."
Andrei could only nod, throat too tight for words.
The dressing room was silent except for quiet sobbing. Reghecampf addressed them with obvious emotion.
"Hold your heads up. Every one of you. What you did tonight—coming back from three goals down against a Serie A giant—that's heroic. Yes, we lost. Yes, it hurts. But you showed the world what Romanian football can be."
He paused. "Now we have a league title to win. Cluj is three points ahead. We have eleven matches left. This pain—use it. Channel it. Make it mean something."
Andrei showered slowly, his body aching everywhere. When he finally emerged, Elena was waiting outside the dressing room, press credentials allowing her access.
She didn't say anything. Just held him.
"We almost did it," Andrei whispered.
"You did do it. You came back from the impossible. That they scored in the 119th minute doesn't diminish what you achieved."
"But we're out."
"Yes. And that hurts. But Andrei—you scored two goals against Lazio. Against Serie A opposition, you were the best player on the pitch." She pulled back to look at him. "The scouts saw that. Everyone saw that."
They went to her apartment. No words necessary. They made love slowly, tenderly, both of them needing the physical connection to feel grounded.
Afterward, lying in the darkness, Elena's head on his chest, Andrei finally spoke.
"Inter Milan called Sarmale. They want a meeting next week."
Elena was quiet for a long moment. "Are you going?"
"Just to talk. Nothing decided."
"But eventually..."
"Eventually, yes. If they make an offer, if FCSB agrees to sell..." He trailed off. "This is what I've worked for. But now that it's real, I'm terrified."
"Of Italy?"
"Of everything changing. Of leaving you. Of failing at that level."
Elena propped herself up. "Listen to me. You won't fail. You're too talented, too dedicated. And as for me—we'll figure it out. Love doesn't have borders, Andrei."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
They fell asleep like that, holding each other against the uncertainty of the future.
**Liga 1 Standings (After 28 matches - Late March 2017):**
1. CFR Cluj - 68 points
2. FCSB - 65 points
3. Universitatea Craiova - 55 points
4. Astra Giurgiu - 53 points
The title race had ten matches left. Three points separated first and second. Every game was a final.
But Andrei's focus was divided. The meeting with Inter Milan was scheduled for Tuesday, at a luxury hotel in Bucharest. Sarmale, his agent, had prepped him thoroughly.
"Don't commit to anything," Sarmale advised. "This is exploratory. They want to understand you as a person, not just a player."
"What if they make an offer?"
"Then we negotiate. But remember—you're eighteen, still developing. The right move at the wrong time can destroy a career."
The meeting took place in a conference suite overlooking Herăstrău Park. Three men from Inter: Giuseppe Marotta (Sporting Director), Piero Ausilio (Technical Director), and a scout named Alessandro.
"Andrei, thank you for meeting," Marotta began in accented but fluent English. "We've been watching you for several months now. Your development has been impressive."
"Thank you."
"The derby goal, the performances in Europe—you've shown quality beyond your age." Ausilio leaned forward. "But we need to understand—are you ready for Serie A? The intensity, the tactical demands, the pressure?"
Andrei thought carefully. "I think I am. But I also know I have much to learn."
"Good answer," Marotta smiled. "Too many young players think they're already complete. You show humility. That's important."
They talked for ninety minutes. About his background, his playing style, his ambitions. About Inter's project, their plans to return to Champions League football, their youth development philosophy.
Finally, Marotta got to the point.
"We'd like to make an offer. €4 million to FCSB, a five-year contract for you. You'd start with our Primavera—our under-19 team—with opportunities to train with the first team. Prove yourself there, and you move up."
Andrei's heart raced. €4 million. A fortune. Life-changing money for FCSB, for him, for his family.
"I need to think about it," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Of course. Take time. Discuss with your family, your agent." Marotta stood, extending his hand. "But Andrei—we're serious about this. We believe you can be special."
After they left, Andrei sat in the empty conference room, staring at the city below.
**Major Career Decision:**
**Option A: Accept Inter Milan offer (€4M transfer)**
**- Pros: Serie A, elite development, financial security**
**- Cons: Uncertain playing time, might stagnate in Primavera**
**Option B: Stay at FCSB one more season**
**- Pros: Guaranteed playing time, continued development, might increase value**
**- Cons: Risk injury, might miss opportunity**
Sarmale sat beside him. "What are you thinking?"
"I don't know. It's everything I've dreamed of. But..."
"But you're scared."
"Terrified."
"That's healthy. Players who aren't scared make stupid decisions." Sarmale pulled out a folder. "I've been researching. Inter has signed young players before—some succeeded, others disappeared. The ones who made it had one thing in common: they were genuinely ready, not just talented."
"Am I ready?"
"Only you can answer that. But here's my advice—don't rush. You're eighteen. You have time. Another season at FCSB, becoming a consistent starter, dominating the Romanian league—that makes you a €10 million player instead of €4 million. And more importantly, it makes you actually ready for Serie A."
Andrei nodded slowly. The agent was right.
"But also consider," Sarmale continued, "opportunities don't always come twice. If you say no, Inter might not come back."
An impossible choice.
That evening, Andrei called his mother in Iași.
"Mama, Inter Milan made an offer."
Silence on the other end. Then: "What did you say?"
"I haven't decided yet."
"What does your heart tell you?"
"That I'm not ready. That I need more time."
"Then you have your answer." His mother's voice was gentle. "My dear , your father used to say 'Don't pick fruit before it's ripe.' You've grown so much this season, but maybe you need one more year to truly ripen."
"But what if they don't come back?"
"Then another club will. You're talented, Andrei. That doesn't disappear."
After hanging up, he went to Elena's apartment. She was working on an article, laptop open, coffee cup nearby.
"Inter made an offer," he said without preamble.
Her fingers stopped typing. "I know. I have sources."
"You knew?"
"I'm a journalist. It's my job." She closed the laptop. "What are you going to do?"
"I think... I think I'm going to say no. Ask them to come back next summer."
Elena exhaled—relief evident on her face. "Why?"
"Because I'm not ready. I've played half a season of professional football. I'm inconsistent, I struggle with fatigue, my tactical understanding is still developing." He sat beside her. "One more season here, becoming a complete player—that's what I need."
"That's incredibly mature."
"Or incredibly stupid."
"No." Elena took his hand. "It's brave. Most players would grab the money and run. You're choosing development over instant gratification."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"Also," Andrei admitted, "I don't want to leave you yet. I know that shouldn't factor into career decisions, but it does."
Elena's eyes glistened. "That's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."
"Really? It wasn't even that poetic."
"You chose me over Inter Milan. That's poetry enough."
They spent the night talking about the future—about what another season in Romania would look like, about their relationship, about dreams and fears and everything in between.
The next morning, Andrei called Sarmale.
"Tell Inter thank you, but I need one more season at FCSB. Tell them I'll be ready next summer."
"You're sure?"
"No. But I'm sure it's the right decision."
Sarmale chuckled. "That's the most honest answer I've heard from a player. Okay. I'll communicate that. And Andrei? I think you've made the wise choice."
**Decision Made: Remain at FCSB for 2017-18 season**
**Impact: Continued development, pressure to perform, relationship stability**
**Potential: Increased significantly**
**Current Overall Rating: 72.0/99**
**Projected Rating (end of next season): 75-78/99 if development continues**
**Liga 1 - Matchday 29:**
**FCSB vs Pandurii Târgu Jiu**
**Stadionul Național**
**April 2nd, 2017**
With European football over, FCSB could focus entirely on the league. The pressure was immense—Cluj had stumbled slightly, losing to Craiova, but FCSB couldn't afford any mistakes.
**FCSB Starting XI (4-2-3-1):**
*GK:** Andrei Vlad
**DEF (RB):** Romario Benzar
**CB:** Marko Momčilović
**CB:** Ionuț Panțîru
**DEF (LB):** Risto Radunović
**CDM:** Mihai Pintilii (C)
**CDM:** Filipe Teixeira
**RW:** Florinel Coman
**CAM:** Constantin Budescu
**LW/CAM:** Andrei Luca
**ST:** Denis Alibec
Pandurii was fighting relegation—desperate and dangerous. They defended with eleven men behind the ball, making space impossible to find.
The match was frustrating. FCSB dominated possession—78% by halftime—but couldn't break through. Pandurii's goalkeeper, Cicerone, was inspired, saving everything.
In the 67th minute, Andrei finally found the breakthrough.
Radunović overlapped down the left and crossed low. The ball skipped through the penalty area, past three defenders, and fell to Andrei at the edge of the box.
One touch to control, one look up, and he struck it with his right foot. The ball took a slight deflection off a defender and looped over the diving Cicerone.
GOAL. 1-0 FCSB.
Not pretty, but effective.
**Goal scored**
**Shooting: +0.1**
Ten minutes later, Alibec added a second. Final score: 2-0.
Three points. Job done.
**Liga 1 Standings (After 29 matches):**
1. CFR Cluj - 68 points
2. FCSB - 68 points
3. Universitatea Craiova - 57 points
Level on points. Goal difference separated them. Nine matches to decide the championship.
The news about Andrei declining Inter's offer leaked within days—Romanian football had no secrets. The reaction was mixed.
Some praised his maturity. Others called him foolish. Social media was brutal: *Kid turned down Inter Milan. He'll regret that forever.*
Elena wrote a thoughtful piece titled "The Courage to Say Not Yet," exploring why young players should prioritize development over immediate moves to bigger leagues.
It sparked heated debate in Romanian football circles.
Reghecampf called Andrei into his office.
"I heard about Inter," the coach said.
"I hope that's okay—"
"It's more than okay. It shows intelligence." Reghecampf leaned back in his chair. "You stayed because you want to be ready, not just lucky. That tells me you have the mentality to succeed anywhere."
"Thank you, Mister."
"But Andrei—now you have to prove it was the right choice. You need to dominate the rest of this season. Win the title, score goals, show Inter they should come back with a bigger offer."
"I will."
"Good. Because next season, you won't be the promising kid anymore. You'll be the main man. Can you handle that pressure?"
Andrei thought of his father, of Elena, of everything that had brought him here.
"Yes, Mister. I can."
**New Objective: Dominate remainder of 2016-17 season**
**Win league title**
**Increase rating to 73+ by season end**
**Prove decision to stay was correct**
The beautiful game had tested him with European heartbreak and impossible decisions.
Now it was testing him with something harder: living up to his own potential.
Nine matches to write his legacy.
Nine matches to prove he belonged among the elite.
Nine matches to make his father proud.
The race for the title—and for greatness—was on.