CHAPTER 652: CHAPTER 652 SUFFOCATING DANGER

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[19:30 | PRE-RECORDED INTERVIEW]

Sorg stood in the tunnel, arms crossed, his expression focused. "Marcus, Spain haven’t lost at home in competitive fixtures since 2003. How do you prepare mentally for a challenge like that?"

"You leave respect at the door and attack them head-on," Sorg replied evenly. "Every streak ends eventually. Our preparation has been thorough. Both teams have faced each other in competition, so there is hardly any surprise. The question is execution under pressure. Can we remain disciplined for ninety minutes? Can we take our chances when they come? That’s what will determine the result."

"There’s been talk of Germany being in transition, caught between generations. How do you manage that balance?"

Sorg’s expression softened slightly. "Every great team goes through cycles. The 2014 World Cup winners can’t play forever. The future belongs to the next generation. Our job is to blend experience with youth, to transfer knowledge while giving young players the confidence to express themselves. It’s not always smooth, but it’s necessary."

[LIVE - PITCH SIDE]

Wontorra appeared back on screen, the warm-ups now in full swing behind her. "Both teams are about fifteen minutes from returning to the dressing rooms for final preparations. The atmosphere here is electric, despite the limited attendance. You can feel the weight of this fixture—two European giants, in what may be a precursor to the Euros in June."

[19:35 | ZDF Studio]

Schmidt shuffled his notes as the analysts prepared for their final pre-match thoughts. "Gentlemen, predictions. Dietmar, let’s start with you."

Hamann stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I think this will be tight. Spain will have the ball, but Germany will create the better chances. I’m going 1-1, maybe 2-1 to Germany if they’re clinical."

"Stefan?"

Effenberg’s expression was contemplative. "Spain’s home record is formidable, but they’re still finding their identity under Luis Enrique. Germany has enough quality to hurt them on the counter. I’ll say 2-2. High quality, end-to-end stuff in the second half."

"Bold calls," Schmidt said with a smile. "I’m inclined to agree with Dietmar—I think Germany nicks this 1-0 or 2-1. But Spain will make them work for every second."

The broadcast cut to a wide shot of the stadium, now with more staff visible, the crowd—though sparse—beginning to generate noise. The floodlights blazed against the darkening Seville sky. "We’ll take a brief break," Schmidt announced. "When we return, it’s Spain versus Germany in the UEFA Nations League. You’re watching ZDF."

[19:42 | Germany Dressing Room, La Cartuja Stadium]

The dressing room was a study in controlled intensity. Players sat at their designated spots, some with eyes closed in meditation, others reviewing tablets with match notes. The smell of liniment and fresh kit permeated the air.

Löw stood at the front, waiting for the final stragglers to settle. His coaching staff flanked him—Sorg, goalkeeping coach Andreas Köpke, and fitness coach Yann-Benjamin Kugel. Behind them, a tactical board displayed Spain’s expected formation.

"Gentlemen," Löw began, his voice calm but carrying authority, "you know what’s ahead. Spain will try to suffocate us with possession. They’ll probe, they’ll rotate, they’ll wait for mistakes. Our job is simple—don’t give them any."

He pointed to the board. "Rodri is the key. He’s their metronome. Press him early, disrupt his rhythm, and their entire system becomes less fluid. Toni, Ilkay, Leon—this is on you three. Make Rodri uncomfortable." The three remaining silent nodded in response as they waited for more instructions.

"In transition, we attack with speed," Löw continued. "Timo, Serge, Leroy—when we win the ball, run. Don’t wait for perfect positioning. Their defence will be high. Let’s make them pay for it."

He paused, making eye contact with each player. "This is a statement match. Everyone in the sport is watching to see whether we are a threat or simply just another notable name."

Neuer stood, clapping once. "We’ve prepared well. We know what to expect, so go out there and execute." The room erupted in coordinated claps and shouts—"Zusammen! Zusammen!"—the German word for "together" echoing off the walls.

[19:45 | Tunnel, La Cartuja Stadium]

The tunnel was a cathedral of nervous energy. German players lined up in their crisp white away kits, the iconic black, red, and gold adorning their shoulders. Across from them, Spain stood resplendent in their traditional red, the golden accents catching the overhead lights.

Rakim stood with the substitutes at their team’s bench, awaiting the opening ceremony. Neuer towered at the front, the captain’s armband vivid against his sleeve. Beside him, Sergio Ramos mirrored the captain’s presence for Spain, his face an impassive mask of concentration.

The Mexican referee checked his watch, then nodded to his assistants. "Vamos," he said simply. Let’s go.

~~~

[20:00 | Spain vs Germany | La Cartuja Stadium, Seville]

[1’]

*(Fweeet)*

The whistle pierced the Seville night, and La Cartuja Stadium exhaled as one. Spain, draped in crimson, immediately took possession. Rodri collected from Pau Torres and swept the ball wide to Sergi Roberto, who cushioned it back inside to Koke. Six passes, all within their own half, before a single German player had touched the ball.

"Here we go," the commentator’s voice carried over the broadcast. "Spain doing what Spain does—setting the tempo from the first second."

Germany’s pressing shape was immediately tested. Werner sprinted toward Rodri, but the Manchester City midfielder had already released the ball to Canales. Gündogan shifted to cover, Goretzka dropped deeper. It looked like a choreographed dance of two armies testing each other, but Spain clearly held the reins with confidence.

[4’]

The pattern continued in the opening minutes as Spain stroked the ball around with maddening patience—left to right, back to front, then recycling when Germany’s shape held firm. Kroos, typically composed, found himself Unable to get near the ball. Every time he pressed, the ball had already moved.

Then came the first real chance when Ferran Torres received the ball on the right, his first touch immaculate. Philipp Max closed him down, but Ferran rolled the ball inside to Canales, who picked it up on his forward charge. Before a nearby white shirt could latch onto him, he picked out Morata’s diagonal run.

The Juventus striker peeled away from Süle’s shoulder, racing towards the ball’s landing spot. He stretched his leg out to cushion it, but his touch was too heavy, allowing Neuer to rush out and smother the danger. "Good anticipation from Neuer," the commentator observed. "But Germany are being pulled apart here early on."

[8’]

Germany tried to establish itself with Kroos dropping deep between the centre-backs, attempting to build from the back as Löw had drilled. Ginter found him with a simple pass, and for a moment, Germany had control. Kroos looked up, surveying his options as they slowly moved up the field with simple passes.

Werner presented an option with a run-in behind, and Gnabry drifted inside. However, he picked out Sané with a chipped pass over the head of Canales. The German winger stepped up chesting the ball down only to be physically removed from the ball the next moment.

Dani Olmo wedged himself between him and the ball using his body to steal the ball. Spain countered immediately with a pinball set of passes: Olmo to Koke, Koke flicked it to Rodri, who lifted the ball to Gayà overlapping on the left. The Valencian fullback had some space as Gintere, playing right back for Germany, had been drawn upwards by Olmo’s movements.

The Spanish full-back did not give him a chance to recover and whipped in a cross that Morata attacked with venom. But Koch threw himself in front of it, the ball ricocheting off his leg out for a corner. "What a block from Robin Koch!" the commentator exclaimed. "Germany is living dangerously." The corner came to nothing—Neuer commanding his area with authority, punching clear under pressure.

[12’]

Rakim watched from the bench, arms folded, his mind working through what he was seeing. Spain, a team that should have been on the same level as Germany, wasn’t just good—they were suffocating. Every German attempt to build up play was met with immediate pressure.

Every loose touch was punished. The midfield battle was one-sidedly dominated at the moment, and that was supposedly Germany’s strength. He knew just how good his team’s midfield was as they had facilitated his hat-trick three days ago. But seeing them struggling even to breathe sent his danger senses tingling, and he wasn’t the only one feeling it.

"They’re pressing us into their rhythm," Brandt muttered beside him. "Every time we try to play out slowly, they’re already there."

On the pitch, Gündogan tried to thread a pass through to Werner, but Pau Torres read it perfectly, stepping across to intercept. The young centre-back immediately found Rodri, who turned and drove forward, committing Goretzka before slipping the ball to Canales. The Betis midfielder had time—too much time—and picked out Ferran Torres on the right wing with a diagonal ball that bypassed Germany’s entire midfield.

Ferran took it in stride, cutting inside Max with a subtle feint. His left-footed shot curled toward the far post, but Neuer was equal to it, diving full stretch to push it wide. "Magnificent save!" the commentator roared. "Manuel Neuer is keeping Germany in this!"

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To Be Continued...