"This is our last chance!"
In Barcelona's dressing room, the players sat in silence, while head coach Setién was under immense pressure.
The gap in raw strength was simply too great, to the point that the head coach did not know what to do anymore.
"We need to calm down."
Messi spoke with his shirt off.
The Argentinian clutched a jersey in his hand but had not put it on yet. "When I need support, you need to support me, okay? We can't score if we keep defending at the back."
"They're putting too much pressure on us up front. We can push the fullbacks forward!"
Messi spoke to his teammates.
Though he was not speaking loudly, the state of the dressing room made it clear just how much weight Messi's words carried. For a long while, no one dared make a sound. Even Setién remained silent.
Coincidentally, the coaches of both teams in this Champions League final had little say. The midfield tactics and even substitutions were decided by the senior figures within the squads.
Was the answer in this version of football managerless tactics?
"The fullbacks have to push up, otherwise we can't score. We have to score now. Just get the ball to me in the final third."
Messi and Suárez were resolute. Meanwhile, Philippe Coutinho sat silently in his seat, knowing full well that his first-half performance had been dreadful.
Very soon, Messi, Piqué, and Suárez had worked out a substitution plan. As expected, starting player Coutinho was taken off.
"Come on, come on!"
"Three, two, one!"
"Barcelona!"
In the players' tunnel, Tang Ye had initially planned to go shake hands with Suárez. But seeing the stern look on the latter's face, he ultimately gave up.
Indeed, whether they reconciled or not no longer mattered. What