God Of football

Chapter 808: Are You Ready?

While the tunnels of the Allianz Arena thrummed with the low hum of preparation, outside, a restless sea of supporters swelled with anticipation, colours split between the red-and-blue of Barcelona and the red-and-white of Arsenal.Flags swayed, scarves twisting in the air while drums rumbled from the stands.

It was the kind of electricity that prickled against the skin, one you felt even if you couldn’t hear the sound.

Then, the stadium announcer’s voice boomed through the sound system, deep and commanding, echoing across the dome.

"Seid ihr bereit?"

(Are you ready?)

The German words carried with them the rhythm of command as the Munich faithful in attendance, those neutral locals who had bought tickets months before, roared back with a thunderous "JA!" that seemed to rattle the steel above their heads.

Without missing a beat, the announcer switched tongues.

"¿Están listos?"

(Are you ready?)

This time it was the Spanish section that erupted, a tide of Catalan and travelling supporters who had made the pilgrimage north, their voices rising in an almost songlike chant.

"¡SÍÍÍÍ!"

And then, one final shift, deliberate, to the global language of the game.

"Are you ready?"

The entire stadium rose as one.

It was no longer divided, no longer split by allegiance, at least not for this brief instant.

It was a singular roar, deafening and defiant, shaking the walls of the Allianz.

And then, over that thunder, for those watching the broadcast, came the voice of Peter Drury, his voice soaring amid the noise from the crowd, threatening to escape the mediums they were currently playing through across the globe.

ised to Yamal’s chest.

The young Spaniard caught it perfectly, barely moving, the control so smooth it looked like the ball had been glued to him.

The cheer that erupted was almost celebratory, as though the final itself had already begun.

But just as suddenly as it started, their little game within the game ended.

A shrill whistle from one of the officials echoed across the pitch, signalling the end of the warm-up routine.

Both boys, smiling faintly but keeping their composure, jogged back to their respective groups.

Arsenal players immediately drifted toward the tunnel while Barcelona followed soon after, the air thick again with the gravity of what was about to come.

Up in the suite, Hori leaned back from the glass, shaking her head in disbelief.

"He calls me a diva, yet he can’t help but cause a scene wherever he is," she muttered softly.

Miranda adjusted her scarf, lips pressing into the faintest of smirks.

"It’s gonna make the clips on TikTok," she said as she turned towards Hori.

"It is going to make good Publicity."

Hori rolled her eyes at Miranda’s words as the crowd continued to buzz, but already the stadium was shifting again.

The pleasantries and all the talk off the pitch were done with, and now, it was time for the talk on the pitch.