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Barcelona's draw against Villarreal had changed everything.
After thirty rounds, the table read: Barcelona first with seventy points. Atlético Madrid second with sixty-nine. A single point separated them.
The thirty-first round would be decisive. Barcelona versus Atlético Madrid at the Camp Nou.
Simeone gave the squad two days off after the Girona victory. Once the break ended, he locked the team into a closed training camp.
The message was clear: nothing mattered except the match ahead.
Barcelona's preparation was equally intense. Both managers understood that this fixture would likely determine the destination of the league title. With so few rounds remaining, dropping points now meant praying for your opponent to stumble.
The tension surrounding Spanish football grew thicker by the day.
And then the off-field tactics began.
Mundo Deportivo broke first.
They reported a meeting between Griezmann's agent and Barcelona's general manager. The article presented evidence, photographs, timeline reconstructions—all designed to prove that Atlético's star forward was on the verge of joining the Catalan giants.
Spanish media pounced. The story spread everywhere.
Griezmann's links to Barcelona weren't new. Rumours had swirled throughout the previous summer. Journalists had captured photos of his agent meeting with Barcelona officials on multiple occasions. The noise had only quietened during the second half of the season.
Now it was back—and the timing was no coincidence. Anyone with eyes could see Barcelona were attempting to destabilise Atlético's morale.
The following day, Barcelona manager Valverde gave an interview expressing his admiration for Griezmann. He painted a glowing picture of how the Frenchman would fit into Barcelona's system, speaking as though the transfer were already complete.
The rumour mill went into overdrive.
Griezmann, locked away in closed training, knew nothing of the circus outside.
That evening, Simeone called him into his office. No one knew what was said.
The next day, Atlético held a press conference.
Griezmann attended personally.
"I've terminated my contract with my agent," he announced. "I have no idea what's been happening outside—that was all his private doing. I love it here. Atlético Madrid is a family. We have a professional, open-minded head coach. We have excellent teammates. I have no intention of leaving."
The farce ended.
Not everyone believed him, of course. His entanglement with Barcelona during the first half of the season was well-documented. But something had changed since the winter window.
What the journalists didn't know was that André's arrival had given Griezmann hope.
Yes, they'd been eliminated from the Champions League and Copa del Rey. But they were neck-and-neck with Barcelona in the league. For a player who craved honours, that was everything.
Once André established himself as a starter, Griezmann stopped thinking about leaving.
Atlético weren't content to simply absorb Barcelona's provocations. They struck back.
The same day Griezmann clarified his future, Marca dropped a bomb: Atlético's general manager had been photographed meeting with Dutch football agent Ali Dursun at a Madrid café.
The football world immediately understood the implications.
During the winter window, Barcelona had agreed to sign Frenkie de Jong from Ajax for seventy-five million euros—potentially rising to eighty-six million with add-ons. A four-year contract. A four-hundred-million-euro release clause. Barcelona's investment in the Dutch prodigy was enormous.
De Jong's move to Atlético was impossible—everyone knew that. The meeting was pure provocation. A message: We're watching. And we have options.
But Atlético weren't finished.
The following day, their general manager announced publicly that they had submitted a bid to Real Betis: twelve million euros for half of Emerson's ownership rights.
If the De Jong news had been a mild irritation, this was a slap in the face.
Everyone knew Barcelona and Betis had jointly signed the Brazilian right-back—hailed as Dani Alves's successor—for twelve million euros during the winter window. Barcelona had agreed to let Emerson develop at Betis, with a six-million-euro buy-back clause whenever they wanted him.
Now Atlético were offering twelve million for half. The audacity was breathtaking.
The war of words escalated. Provocation met counter-provocation. The hype built steadily as match day approached.
Every newspaper, every radio show, every television panel dissected the upcoming clash. It was all anyone in Spanish football could talk about.
Match day arrived.
Atlético travelled to Barcelona that afternoon. At eight in the evening, local time, the two sides would meet at the Camp Nou.
André had never been here before.
He stepped off the team bus and looked up at the famous stadium—nearly a hundred thousand seats, decades of history, the home of some of football's greatest players.
Something stirred in his chest. Not nerves. Something fiercer.
He wanted to conquer this place.
His fighting spirit surged.
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