"Hello everyone! After the 2010 World Cup in South Africa, the Spanish Super Cup is about to kick off!"
"As the curtain-raiser for the league season, this two-legged home-and-away series will be contested between Barcelona and Real Madrid!"
"Last season, Real Madrid completed a league double over Barcelona, which cost the Catalans a shot at the La Liga title. This season, however, Barcelona has made major signings. World Cup standout David Villa will make his debut at Camp Nou, wearing the No. 7 jersey!"
"On the other hand, Real Madrid has also strengthened, bringing in former AC Milan star Kaka and former Inter Milan champion Srna. The additions significantly boost Real Madrid's firepower."
"In a Barcelona vs. Real Madrid match, almost every player is a star. The clash between Spain's two biggest clubs promises a feast of football to open the season!"
"Folks!"
Spanish commentator Gonzalez shouted enthusiastically, "Are you ready for a football feast?!"
WAAAAAAAHHHHHH—!
Camp Nou erupted in cheers.
But just as quickly came the wave of boos.
Boooooo~~~~~~~~!!!
Cheers and boos intertwined.
The starting lineups of Real Madrid and Barcelona walked onto the field, each player holding the hand of a child mascot.
Starting Lineups:
Barcelona (4-4-2):GK: ValdésDEF: Maxwell, Piqué, Puyol, AlvesMID: Keita, Busquets, Xavi, IniestaFWD: Messi, Villa
Real Madrid (4-3-3):GK: CasillasDEF: Srna, Ramos, Pepe, MarceloMID: Khedira, Alonso, DiarraFWD: Kaka, Benzema, Suker
On the sidelines:
Guardiola stood with his hands in his pockets, frowning.
Mourinho stood arms folded, eyes sharp.
From coaches to players, this match was stacked with talent.
The team captains, Puyol and Casillas, shook hands.
As national teammates who had just won the World Cup together, the two shared a moment of close camaraderie.
Mourinho frowned slightly at the gesture but said nothing.
Flags exchanged. Handshakes all around.
Players moved to their respective halves.
The first half would start with a Real Madrid kickoff.
Suker and Benzema stood at the center circle.
Benzema pulled a small slip of paper from his sock, kissed it, and tucked it back inside.
Suker saw everything.
"Ew... What are you doing?" Suker asked with a disgusted expression.
Taking something out of your sweaty sock, kissing it, and putting it back in? Gross!
Benzema grinned, "It's my lucky sticker!"
"Lucky... sticker?" Suker was confused.
Benzema nodded, "During our first preseason match, I scored a goal off a weird run. After the game, I found this sticker in my sock. Don't know how it got there."
"So?" Suker still didn't get it.
"So I kept it in my sock for the second game—and I got an assist!" Benzema beamed.
"This sticker's my lucky charm. I'm gonna keep it in my sock from now on!"
Suker squinted. "You only have one of those? Reusing it?"
Benzema grinned, "Of course not!"
Suker nodded.
Benzema added, "I'm planning to wrap it in a rubber coating. That way I can wash it."
Suker gagged.
Gross!
"Get ready for kickoff!"
The Spanish referee called out.
Suker and Benzema's eyes turned sharp.
The ref raised his hand to signal both goalkeepers, then backed out of the circle.
WHISTLE!
The game began.
At the whistle, Suker kicked off.
Benzema passed the ball back and immediately sprinted forward.
Suker and Kaka both advanced, but seeing the Barcelona players rushing up, they simultaneously dropped back.
Barcelona was pressing high!
Bang! Alonso barely managed to poke the ball to Khedira.
Khedira quickly passed it forward.
Kaka received the ball with his back to goal, and immediately three Barcelona players swarmed in.
Kaka dropped deep, feinted a touch with his right foot but let the ball roll through his legs.
It went under Xavi's legs too!
But just as Kaka turned to sprint forward, Xavi stepped in with perfect timing—body block!
WHISTLE!The referee called obstruction but didn't issue a card.
Kaka patted himself and got up immediately.
Barcelona is different, he thought.
Both offensively and defensively, they were sharp.
Dribbling past like in preseason? Not gonna happen.
Free kick near midfield.
Srna stood over it, scanning for teammates.
A direct long ball into the box wouldn't work—it was too far out, not dangerous enough, especially with Barça already back.
So Srna passed sideways to Alonso.
Alonso switched the ball left to Suker.
Suker, standing on the wing, lightly touched the ball in place.
Maxwell stayed alert, not daring to relax.
Suker gave no indication of movement... then suddenly accelerated—right foot brushing the ball along the sideline, body exploding forward.
Pressure time!
"Here comes Suker down the wing!"
Despite being prepared, Maxwell was blown past by Suker's explosive pace.
Speed 98!
That made him unstoppable on the flanks.
Suker bulldozed ahead of Maxwell, then passed to Benzema before accelerating again—going for a quick one-two.
Benzema understood his intention.
But they were too obvious.
Puyol read the play, stepping up to block Benzema's passing lane.
In a flash, Benzema turned toward Suker—but passed to the right instead.
He didn't even look—just relied on instinct, following Mourinho's tactics.
Sure enough, Kaka was there.
But Benzema hadn't seen him, so the pass was a bit short.
Kaka stumbled slightly after his first touch and ended up near the goal line with no angle.
"Backpass!"
Kaka sent it back.
Khedira faked a shot, cut inside, still no space—passed again.
Ball went to Benzema.
He dribbled around Puyol once, then again.
"Shoot! Shoot! Just shoot!!" Suker yelled from the left.
Barça's defense was in chaos.
What were they doing?
SHOOT!
Even without a good angle, just try!
Eventually, the ball trickled to Suker.
He was surrounded—left, right, and center—with Puyol and Valdés closing in.
"To hell with it!"
Without stopping the ball, Suker fired.
Bang!
Ball deflected off Puyol's ankle and went out.
"Shoot the damn ball! You guys forget how to shoot?!"
Suker roared, voice hoarse.
Everyone else looked awkward.
They had all tried to create the perfect shot—but passed too much and lost the chance.
"Benzema should've shot earlier," Gonzalez commented.
"His first pass to Kaka was excellent considering the pressure, but the quality wasn't there for a direct shot. Kaka's setup was delayed, and by the time Khedira got it, the opportunity was gone. Benzema hesitated again—he should've taken the shot himself!"
On the pitch, Benzema looked flustered.
He was regretting not shooting.
And now... Suker was storming over.
"Why didn't you SHOOT?!"
Thinking fast, Benzema blurted out, "I-I wanted to pass to you!"
Suker spun around and left with a light: "Don't do it again."
Benzema exhaled. After spending time with Suker, he'd learned: go soft, not hard.
Don't argue—be humble.
Kaka gave him a thumbs up.
Benzema smiled awkwardly.
"Real Madrid's first corner comes thanks to Suker's explosive break. Though it didn't result in a goal, it rattled Barcelona's defense!"
"Let's see what they've cooked up for this set piece."
Against Barça, corners were a valuable weapon.
In the future, Guardiola's Bayern would tear apart Barcelona using high pressing and aerial threats!
So Real had practiced their set pieces.
Marcelo suddenly darted to the corner flag, forcing Maxwell to follow.
One man pulled away—Alonso took the corner.
Ball curved toward the center.
Suker and Benzema jumped.
The cross was too high—but Suker managed a flick with his head.
It went toward the far post—where Kaka didn't take any chances.
He swung a foot at it!
Bang!
Blocked by Dani Alves and rebounded out.
"Counterattack!!"
Iniesta immediately fed Messi.
"Barcelona have a chance—but look at Real Madrid's recovery!"
Spearheaded by Suker and Kaka, Real Madrid sprinted back.
Both players tore down the field, chasing Messi from both sides.
Messi scanned the field while dribbling.
He needed support for a pass—but his teammates were too slow.
Real's players were quicker.
Suker and Kaka closed in, flanking him.
Messi shifted pace and moved sideways.
Suker stopped, turned, and slid in.
Thud!He poked the ball away—it rolled to an open area on the left.
Xavi arrived and regained control.
But by the time he looked up, Real Madrid's players were already back behind the halfway line.
"Too late."
Xavi pursed his lips and passed back.
He felt the pressure.
Real Madrid's attack was intense, breaking up their defense twice.
And their recovery speed? Just as frightening.
"Real Madrid's transition is scary!" Gonzalez exclaimed.
"Mourinho has transformed this team. Last season, Real didn't have this pace. The moment Barça cleared the ball, Real was already sprinting back!"
Barça had possession now.
This time, Real Madrid didn't press immediately.
They waited near the halfway line—watching like wolves.
When Barça passed to the right wing, Real's entire defensive line shifted.
The shape was perfect—two well-aligned chains of midfield and defense.
No penetration space.
Messi had to pass back.
On the sideline, Guardiola looked grim.
Mourinho's influence was clear.
This Italian-style chain defense was working.
Midfield pressing... even the forwards were helping.
And crucially, they weren't overcommitted.
After their initial high press and attack, they pulled back to defend.
Bang!Iniesta passed back again.
Xavi received, passed to a teammate, then looked toward Iniesta.
Iniesta hated backpasses.
If there was a chance, he'd go forward.
But he didn't now—not even sideways.
He didn't even dribble.
That showed how much pressure he was under.
Iniesta kept moving but couldn't find a good spot.
Every time he positioned himself, Real's midfielders closed in.
When he got the ball—immediate pressure.
Dribble? There was no space.
Real Madrid compressed everything.
Once the ball entered their half, it was like passing through molasses.
Sometimes they even baited passes into traps—only Iniesta's quick reactions saved them.
"These guys just won't take the bait..." Srna muttered.
Barça's players were sharp, alert to danger.
But—
"Push up! Push up!" Casillas shouted.
From his angle, he saw Barça couldn't break through.
Real had caught their breath from the earlier sprint.
"Go!"
"Press!"
"Apply pressure!"
Real Madrid began their second wave of high pressing!
Barça responded by speeding up their passing—quick one-twos, desperate clearances.
But Real's pressure kept mounting.
Could Barça hold on?
Hisssss—
Gonzalez drew a sharp breath.
Goosebumps.
Only 10 minutes in, and the midfield battle was already intense.
Both teams had lethal potential.
But both were minimizing mistakes, trying to pass with precision.
Both sides were pressing relentlessly.
Unlike weaker teams that crumble under their own mistakes, these two were disciplined, with very low error rates.
But still—they were forcing each other into errors.
Two elite clubs.
Two world-class coaches.
Two totally different tactical philosophies.
And now... the pressure was ice-cold and bone-chilling.
So... who will crack first?
Bang!"Switch it!"
Bang!"Drive in!"
Bang!"Pull out!"
Bang!"Get him!"
Midfield was a warzone.
Neither side would give an inch.
Barça passed and ran relentlessly, hunting for gaps.
Real ran and pressured just as relentlessly, forcing mistakes.
Football is a mix of aerobic and anaerobic activity.
Five minutes of high-intensity bursts—the limit.
Heart pounding. Breaths ragged. Mind foggy.
And still, they had to perform.
No one slacked.
Keep charging! Keep fighting!
Thump, thump, thump, thump!
Suker felt his heart racing.
He knew the breaking point was here!
Players on both sides were entering extreme fatigue.
Then—
Suker roared: "GET HIM!"
He lunged at Busquets.
Busquets, dizzy and heavy-legged from the nonstop action, panicked when he saw Suker charging like a red-eyed beast.
He passed instinctively—but under-hit the ball!
Suker darted past him, yelling:"KAKA!!"
Kaka and Alves sprinted—but Kaka got there first.
He lobbed it into the box, then collapsed, gasping for air.
Oxygen—finally!
Suker charged in, met the falling ball, planted his left foot.
He launched himself, head snapping forward—
BOOM!
GOAL!
The ball soared into the bottom right corner!
17th minute – Real Madrid scores first!