December arrived with the particular pressure of a month that contains too many matches. In Spain the Copa del Rey quarter-final draw had already been made, Barcelona drawn against Villarreal, the Yellow Submarine, in a two-legged tie scheduled for the middle of the month. Sevilla faced Atlético. Real Madrid drew Celta Vigo. Athletic Bilbao got Racing Santander from the third division, the last true underdog left in the tournament.
But the Copa was secondary news within twenty-four hours. The eyes of the global game shifted to Nyon.
In the ESPN Sur studios, Santiago and Inés were live for the UCL Round of 16 draw.
"Sixteen clubs remain," Santiago said. "The group stage filtered out sixty-four matches worth of pretenders. What's left is the real tournament."
Inés had her notes. "Barcelona are top seeds, protected from other Spanish clubs and from group opponents. But the unseeded pot is deep this year. Chelsea, Juventus, Arsenal. No draw is comfortable."
The balls came out one by one.
Bayern Munich vs. Galatasaray.
AC Milan vs. Atlético Madrid.
Manchester City vs. Zenit Saint Petersburg.
Juventus vs. Arsenal.
Real Madrid vs. Ajax.
Manchester United vs. Schalke 04.
Borussia Dortmund vs. Benfica.
Then the final pairing.
FC Barcelona vs. Chelsea.
"THE DERBY OF EUROPE IS RENEWED!" Santiago was on his feet. "Barcelona and Chelsea, the rivalry that has defined the knockout era! Four meetings since the turn of the millennium, two advancements each. The Del Horno red card in 2006, the Øvrebø controversy in 2009, the Ramires chip and Torres goal in 2012. The footballing gods have not yet finished with this fixture."
Inés was already in the data. "Chelsea under Mourinho and it is Mourinho now, back for his second spell at Stamford Bridge are a fundamentally different animal from the side that faced Barcelona in 2012. Physical, counter-attacking, organised from the back. And Mourinho's personal history with Barcelona is not a media construction. It is real, documented, and mutual."
The Argentine feed lit up immediately.
[Chelsea. Of course it's Chelsea. The footballing gods have a specific taste for drama.]
[Mourinho vs Barça again. This is the rivalry of the decade. The Special One is going to park the biggest bus in European football history.]
[Terry and Cahill against the LMN. This is what the knockout stage was invented for.]
London, Stamford Bridge - Post-Match Press Conference
Chelsea had just beaten Tottenham 4-0. The press room was full and loud when Mourinho took his seat, John Terry beside him, the draw result already circulating on every phone in the building.
A reporter from the Daily Mail stood first.
"Mr. Mourinho - congratulations on today's result. The Champions League draw has just been confirmed. You have Barcelona. You spent three years managing Real Madrid, some of the bitterest Clásicos in recent history. Now you face them again from the Chelsea dugout. What is your reaction?"
Mourinho looked at the reporter for a moment. Then he looked at Terry and let out a short, dry sound that might have been a laugh.
"Barça." He sat back. "I heard that UEFA's favourite club is back in the spotlight. Nine years ago, during my first spell here, they took a victory from us at the Camp Nou with a red card that was frankly an embarrassment. And 2009..." He paused. "Everybody knows what happened at Stamford Bridge. Øvrebø's name is still written on that trophy. I have nothing new to say about them. They are what they have always been."
Beside him, Terry's expression didn't change, but something behind his eyes shifted, the particular way a player's face moves when a memory arrives unexpectedly. 2009 had been the closest he had come to a European final. The semi-final, the disallowed goal, the penalty missed on a wet pitch in Moscow. These things didn't leave.
"And their striker, Lorenzo?" another reporter pressed. "Twenty-five league goals, ten in the Champions League. Golden Boy winner. How do you plan to stop him?"
Mourinho turned to Terry. "John, I should have brought Fernando today instead of you. Look at the questions they're asking." He turned back to the microphone. "I don't care about the Golden Boy. Van der Vaart won the first one - where is he now? Pato won it. Balotelli won it. It's a trophy for newspapers, not pitches."
He leaned forward slightly. "As for Lorenzo, he's wearing the number nine for Spain now, yes? The shirt that belongs to Fernando Torres. They handed it to a boy who had played ten professional matches. But the Premier League is not La Liga. He's been scoring against defenders who want to play pretty passes. Let him come to Stamford Bridge. Let him try to find a yard of space against John Terry and Gary Cahill."
Mourinho adjusted his cuffs and stood.
"Eleven against eleven, I have never lost to Barcelona. Tell them to keep their red cards in their pockets this time."
He walked out. The press corps took a moment before the noise started.
Terry stayed seated for a few seconds after Mourinho left. A reporter leaned over. "Any thoughts, John?"
Terry looked up. "He said everything I would have said, just louder." He picked up his water bottle and followed his manager out.
In Barcelona, the draw result reached the training ground before the evening session ended. Busquets saw it on his phone, looked at it for a second, then walked over to where Iniesta was retying his boot.
"Chelsea."
Iniesta glanced up. "Mourinho's Chelsea?"
"Is there another one?"
Iniesta finished the knot and stood up slowly. He looked out at the pitch. "Right."
"He's going to park a bus the size of the Sagrada Família," Busquets said.
"He always does." Iniesta stood up. "We've broken through before."
Lorenzo had come out early. He was at the far end running finishing repetitions - receive, turn, strike, reset. Pautasso had caught him on the way out of the building and told him about the draw against Mourinho's Chelsea in Stamford Bridge.
He'd nodded and kept walking.
He placed a ball on the edge of the area, stepped back three paces, and drove it low into the corner. Then he collected it, walked back, and did it again.
Plz Drop Some Power Stones.
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