The camera locked onto Shane Carter.
Raúl González stood near the center circle, hands resting on his hips, shaking his head with a heavy sense of finality.
Just last season, he had carried Schalke 04 to the semifinals of the Champions League.
This season, they were eliminated in the quarterfinals of the Europa League.
Last year, Raúl still felt the fading echoes of his absolute prime. This year, the physical reality of his age was a suffocating weight. His body simply couldn't execute what his mind demanded anymore.
He looked across the pitch and saw Carter surrounded by his celebrating Atlético teammates.
Raúl remembered Iker Casillas's warning: "He is lethal."
The Spanish legend took a deep breath.
He was old. His era had officially ended.
A new era was dawning, bringing a new breed of monsters to the continent.
Carter was undoubtedly one of them.
Maybe... he was destined to be the absolute king of this next generation.
Who knows?
Raúl walked toward the American teenager.
He knew his days in Europe's elite leagues were over.
He could still play, but not in the Bundesliga, and certainly not in the Champions League.
A massive, lucrative contract was waiting for him in Qatar.
He was seriously considering it.
Even for a global icon like the Lord of the Rings, the reality of retirement was daunting. Footballers were notoriously terrible at managing wealth. Cashing out with one final, astronomical payday in the Middle East or North America was the smartest play for his family's future.
"Hey, Carter. Let's swap shirts."
Raúl pulled his iconic number 7 jersey over his head.
Carter was genuinely surprised. The undisputed Prince of Madrid, arguably the greatest Spanish player in history, was actively seeking him out for a shirt swap.
Carter immediately stripped off his number 29 jersey and handed it over.
The two men high-fived.
"You were unbelievable tonight. I have a feeling we're going to see you on the absolute biggest stages very soon," Raúl said warmly.
He reached out and patted Carter on the back.
Then, he leaned in closer.
"Do you want to play in the Euros this summer? For the Spanish National Team?"
Carter froze.
"Don't rush the decision. Take your time. We respect whatever choice you make," Raúl smiled, giving the teenager a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning and walking down the tunnel.
No one had officially asked Raúl to act as a recruiter.
But as the former alpha of the Spanish National Team, he was still intimately connected to the current locker room.
He knew exactly what the squad was discussing in their private WhatsApp groups. They were all wondering when Vicente del Bosque was finally going to call the American kid up.
Because the domestic league was currently in its most brutal, decisive phase, the national team coaching staff was intentionally giving Carter space, avoiding any official contact that might distract him.
But Raúl knew the absolute truth.
If Carter gave them the green light, he would immediately be fast-tracked onto the 23-man roster for the European Championship.
As a proud Spaniard, Raúl desperately wanted a generational talent like Carter wearing La Roja.
A player of his profile could be the ultimate trump card this summer.
Looking further ahead, if Carter committed to Spain, the national team's midfield would be completely locked down for the next fifteen years. The terrifying prospect of pairing Carter with another rising prodigy like Isco was enough to make any Spanish manager salivate.
"What did Raúl say to you?"
Juanfran jogged over, his eyes burning with curiosity.
Juanfran was a staple of the Spanish National Team and the only Atlético player practically guaranteed a ticket to the Euros this summer.
The current iteration of La Roja was essentially a joint strike force composed exclusively of Real Madrid and Barcelona players. Anyone outside the Clásico duopoly was just a complementary piece.
"He asked if I wanted to play in the Euros," Carter replied honestly.
Carter wasn't entirely oblivious. He knew his current statistical output warranted international attention.
Logically, the United States Men's National Team should have been breaking his door down months ago.
But US Soccer had been completely radio silent.
Meanwhile, the Spanish Federation had discreetly sent out feelers two or three times.
Carter knew the deadline was approaching.
He held two passports. The United States, the country of his birth. And Spain, the country he had lived in for the past nine years, the place that had forged him into a professional.
He always assumed the decision would be agonizing.
But honestly... it was turning into a joke. The USMNT wasn't even giving him a choice to make.
"So? What are you thinking?" Juanfran pressed.
"I'll figure it out later," Carter shrugged, slipping Raúl's jersey over his shoulder. "There are no international breaks until the season ends anyway. I'll make the call then."
Juanfran nodded. "Obviously, I want you in my locker room this summer. But whatever you decide, kid, I'm backing you."
"Thanks."
Carter spread his arms wide and pulled Juanfran into a hug.
"Let's go celebrate. We have a Europa League to win!" Carter shouted to the rest of the squad.
It was the only piece of silverware they could realistically lift this season.
He wasn't going to let it slip away.
Atlético Madrid returned to Spain.
The following night, the remaining European quarter-finals concluded.
The Spanish press descended into a state of absolute euphoria.
The four teams advancing in the Champions League: Chelsea, Bayern Munich, Real Madrid, and Barcelona.
The four teams advancing in the Europa League: Atlético Madrid, Athletic Bilbao, Valencia, and Sporting CP.
Out of the eight available semifinal spots across Europe, La Liga commanded five.
In the Champions League, it was the Spanish giants against the rest of the continent.
In the Europa League, it was a Spanish civil war... plus Sporting CP, who were universally viewed as the weakest team remaining. It was essentially three Spanish clubs fighting over the trophy.
On Friday, UEFA conducted the semifinal draw.
In the Champions League, Real Madrid drew Bayern Munich, and Barcelona drew Chelsea.
The Spanish media instantly began writing fan-fiction about an all-Spanish Clásico final in Munich.
In the Europa League, Atlético Madrid drew Valencia—their direct rivals for the third-place spot in La Liga.
Athletic Bilbao drew Sporting CP.
With the European semifinals scheduled twenty days away, Atlético turned their absolute focus back to the domestic bloodbath.
They had three critical league matches to survive before facing Valencia in Europe.
April 8th. La Liga Matchweek 31.
Atlético hosted Levante at the Calderón.
Levante sat in 6th place, desperately clinging to their own European ambitions.
The La Liga table at the top was completely solidified:
Real Madrid - 81 ptsBarcelona - 75 ptsAtlético Madrid - 59 ptsValencia - 54 ptsMálaga - 50 pts
For Levante, securing a point at the Calderón was vital for their Europa League hopes. They arrived in Madrid and parked the heaviest bus they could construct.
Atlético laid siege to the Levante penalty area, using Carter as the central battering ram to constantly shift the point of attack.
The breakthrough finally arrived in the second half.
Carter spotted a microscopic breakdown in Levante's defensive rotation. He threaded a vicious needle into the box, finding Adrián, who immediately squared it to Falcao for a tap-in.
1-0.
Atlético secured the three points, officially kicking Levante out of the Top 4 race.
April 12th. La Liga Matchweek 32.
Atlético traveled to Pamplona to face Osasuna.
Osasuna sat comfortably mid-table with 40 points, safe from relegation but with nothing left to play for.
With the pressure off, the home side played expansive, chaotic football.
The match turned into a shootout, locked at 2-2 deep into the second half.
In the dying minutes, Carter launched an orbital long ball from deep inside his own half, perfectly isolating Adrián for the game-winning goal.
It was Carter's second assist of the match.
More importantly, it was his 15th assist of the La Liga campaign.
With that pass, Carter officially overtook Lionel Messi to become the outright leader in the La Liga assist rankings.
However, his goal tally remained agonizingly stuck at 9.
April 16th. La Liga Matchweek 33.
The final sprint before the European semifinals.
Atlético entered the weekend sitting on 65 points. With Valencia losing their fixture, Simeone's men had opened up an 8-point gap. Three more wins would mathematically guarantee third place and direct Champions League qualification.
Atlético traveled to Vallecas to face Rayo Vallecano.
Like Osasuna, Rayo was safe from relegation and played a fearless, open style at home.
It was the perfect environment for Carter to pad his stats.
37th minute.
Carter drifted to the left edge of the penalty box and whipped in a devastating, curving cross.
"Sixteen! That is assist number sixteen for the American!" Ian Darke shouted. "He puts it on an absolute platter for Arda Turan, who doesn't even have to jump!"
Up in the away end, the traveling Atlético ultras roared his name.
The match progressed smoothly.
In the sixty-eighth minute, Juanfran assisted Falcao to make it 2-0.
Atlético were cruising toward another victory.
But everyone in the stadium knew what Carter was hunting for.
He began increasing his volume of long-range shots, testing the Rayo keeper with heavy artillery from outside the box.
Finally, in the eighty-third minute, the dam broke.
Carter shifted the ball onto his right foot from twenty-five yards out and unleashed a venomous strike that tore through the Vallecas night and shattered the back of the net.
"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!!!"
"There it is! The elusive tenth league goal!"
"Shane Carter officially joins the double-double club! He is only the second player in La Liga this season to hit double digits in both goals and assists!"
"Can you comprehend what we are witnessing?! The kid has played exactly half a season!"
"The only other man to achieve this feat so far is Lionel Messi, who sits on forty-four goals and fifteen assists. Carter now has ten goals and sixteen assists in just seventeen matches!"
In the press box, the Spanish journalists were losing their minds.
"Double digits in both categories. In half a season!"
"If you extrapolate his current efficiency over a 38-game season, he would be hitting thirty assists and twenty goals..."
"That's completely alien. A central midfielder producing those numbers is mathematically absurd."
"And he's an elite defensive pivot on top of it!"
"If Del Bosque cap-ties him this summer, does he bench Busquets?"
"Honestly? He might!"
"Carter, Xavi, and Iniesta... that midfield would literally conquer the planet."
While the Spanish press fantasized about their national team's terrifying future, the American journalists in the stadium were having an existential crisis.
"What the hell is Jurgen Klinsmann doing?! Put him on a plane to Madrid tonight!"
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