The locker room at Barbastro's modest stadium was a world away from the gleaming facilities at Camp Nou or even Ciutat Esportiva. Narrow benches lined the walls, old paint flaking in the corners, and the air was thick with a mix of deep focus and nervous energy.
The Barça players were lacing up boots, taping ankles, adjusting shin guards. The match jerseys hung like armor on their backs — Blaugrana stripes bold and bright.
Luca sat toward the back, fully dressed in his warm-up gear, the number 80 shining in white on the bottom of his training bib. He was focused, but calm. He wasn't in the starting eleven, but that didn't matter. He'd be ready.
Coach Hansi Flick stood at the center of the room, his voice calm but full of authority.
"Today, it's about character," he began, looking around the room. "They'll fight. You fight harder. We don't drop intensity. We don't lose focus. Every minute, every run, every duel — give it all. Play the Barça way. Play smart. Play sharp."
He clapped his hands once, sharp and loud.
"Pedri. Gavi. Control the rhythm. Raphinha — stretch their line. Lamine, drive at them. Lewy — finish what we build."
Eyes met eyes. Heads nodded. The room pulsed with quiet energy.
As the starting eleven filed out into the narrow tunnel, Luca leaned forward and bumped fists with Lamine Yamal.
"Go cook," Luca said.
"I'll keep a seat warm for you," Lamine grinned back.
Kickoff – First Half
The game began at a furious tempo. Barbastro, clearly up for the occasion, pressed hard from the opening whistle. Their fans, packed shoulder to shoulder in the small stands, roared with every touch, every challenge, every forward ball.
Barça looked to settle early. Pedri dropped deep to collect, shifting play with smooth touches. Gavi was a whirlwind of movement, constantly looking for pockets to receive and drive.
In the 10th minute, Lewandowski almost broke through. A quick one-two with Raphinha sent him behind the defense, but the Barbastro keeper rushed out bravely to smother the shot.
"Vamos Barça!" shouted Flick from the sideline, urging his players forward.
But Barbastro weren't just here to survive — they had fight. In the 19th minute, a long ball caught the Barça backline off guard. Their striker chested it down, beat Christensen to the bounce, and fired a low shot just wide of the post.
It was a warning.
The tempo stayed high. Lamine Yamal danced past two defenders down the right and curled in a perfect ball toward the back post. Raphinha connected — a diving header — but it clipped the top of the bar and went out.
Still 0–0.
30th minute — Barbastro launched a dangerous counterattack after a miscontrolled pass from Gavi. Their number 10 weaved between two defenders and tried his luck from range — it fizzed over the bar, but the crowd erupted. They believed.
Flick and assistant coaches barked tactical adjustments.
"Tighter press!""Pedri, drop next line!""Watch the overlaps!"
The first half closed with a flurry of chances. Raphinha tested the keeper again with a curling left-footed shot, but the Barbastro goalie was having the game of his life. He pushed it wide at full stretch.
Halftime: 0–0.
Second Half Begins
Barça came out more aggressive after the break. Flick clearly wasn't interested in a draw.
52nd minute — A beautiful sequence between Gavi, Pedri, and Lamine sent Lewy through again. He went for power, but once again, the Barbastro keeper denied him with a stunning save.
The frustration was mounting. Flick turned to his bench.
"Warm up," he told Luca.
Luca stood, began his stretches, quietly locking in. He watched every pass, every movement, studying the flow of the game.
65th minute — Barbastro had their best chance. A corner dropped into the six-yard box, chaos followed, and a flicked header struck the crossbar. Barça cleared, barely.
70th minute — Barça responded. Lamine jinked past his man, found Pedri on the edge of the box, who slipped it to Raphinha. The Brazilian cut in and curled a shot inches wide.
Then the signal came from the bench.
75th minute.
"Luca. You're in. LW. For Raphinha."
He peeled off his bib. The number 80 on his back was clean and bold. He stepped toward the touchline, chest rising with each breath.
Raphinha jogged off, gave Luca a pat on the back.
"Go light it up, kid."
Luca crossed the white line, eyes up, game locked in.
The world slowed for a second.
His debut moment — Barça first team — in a gritty game that needed something special.
And now it was his time.