The sun had just risen, and the Atlantic breeze sliced through the grass. Laurence Gonzales stood by the touchline, arms crossed and visor pulled down low, observing in silence.
He was focused on effort.
And what he witnessed made him uneasy.
Cancelo jogged back instead of sprinting after losing the ball. Neymar attempted a flick when a straightforward pass would have sufficed. Casemiro and Kikoto shared a laugh as they drifted between drills, their pace just a beat too slow. Koulibaly barked out instructions, but his legs didn't always match the urgency in his voice.
Laurence let out a breath through his nose and turned slightly toward Víctor Fernández.
"They're coasting," he murmured. "They think momentum will carry them."
Víctor kept his gaze fixed on the pitch. "They've faced Madrid, Barcelona, Athens. That builds confidence."
Laurence shook his head. "Confidence sharpens you. This...." He gestured towards the players, "This dulls you." He paused. "This will get punished."
Víctor looked at him then. "We should rotate then."
"Oh I will rotate all right."
Two nights later, under the bright floodlights in San Sebastián, the teamsheets fluttered through the press box like a soft wave of disbelief.
No Neymar. No Griezmann. No Koulibaly. No Casemiro. No Cancelo.
From the very first whistle, Real Sociedad came out like a team determined to make a statement.
Montanier had them pressing high and early, forcing Tenerife's defense into making choices they were clearly uncomfortable with. The crowd picked up on the tension, and every misstep was met with a chorus of noise.
Nino García felt the pressure right away.
The young Academy defender hesitated under the weight of it all in those opening minutes, torn between booting the ball long and trusting his own skills. Sociedad earned a corner within ten minutes, and then another soon after. Varane tried to bring some calm to the chaos, his touches sharp and more confident than Garcia's, but his timing on the runs was just off enough to keep Aragoneses on his toes.
In the twelfth minute, a flicked header fell awkwardly behind Varane, and only a quick step off his line from Aragoneses saved them from conceding. The goalkeeper was vocal, clapping his gloves together, demanding his teammates stay focused.
The midfield battle was gritty.
Kanté was everywhere, diving into tackles, scooping up loose balls, and dragging Tenerife forward with sheer determination. Ricardo León worked hard to maintain the tempo, but his legs weren't what they used to be, and Sociedad took full advantage of the gaps around him with quick switches and late runs.
Going forward, there was creativity but not much cutting edge.
Quaresma floated into spaces, trying to connect the play. Joel carried the ball confidently, eager to show he belonged on this stage, but his final choices were a bit hasty. In the twenty-third minute, he unleashed a shot from the edge of the box that hit the side netting, close enough to elicit a collective gasp from the crowd.
Natalio had his chance ten minutes later, gliding past two defenders with a clever feint, but his shot lacked conviction and rolled harmlessly into the keeper's arms.
On the sidelines, Laurence barely moved. Hands in pockets. Eyes glued to the action.
After the break, the warning signs became even more pronounced.
Sociedad came out with a sharper edge, playing aggressively and pushing Tenerife back, which forced them into some hasty clearances.
In the forty-ninth minute, a mix-up between Nino and Varane opened up a chance for Carlos Vela. He slipped through the defense and forced Aragoneses into a full-stretch dive that even earned applause from the home crowd.
The goal felt like it was just waiting to happen.
It arrived just before the hour mark.
A throw-in. A low cross whipped into the near post. Nino lunged but missed by mere inches. Varane turned, but it was too late for him to react. Agirretxe came in unmarked and finished from close range.
The roar from the stands was thunderous.
Laurence straightened up right away, his eyes narrowing. He glanced down the bench, caught Víctor's eye, and gestured calmly.
"Get them warming."
But he held off on making a change just yet.
He waited.
To their credit, the players on the field didn't back down.
Joel started demanding the ball more, pushing higher and driving at the tired legs of the opposition. Quaresma began dropping deeper to help with the build-up. Kanté kept snapping at heels, refusing to let Sociedad find their rhythm.
In the sixty-eighth minute, their persistence paid off.
Joel danced past his marker on the right and sent a low ball into the box. Natalio swung at it but connected poorly, the ball bouncing off a defender's shin and rolling free. Quaresma was quick to react, steadying himself and guiding the finish into the corner.
There was more relief than joy in the air. A quick hug, a few hands raised in celebration, and then everyone fell back into their positions.
On the sidelines, Laurence gave a single nod.
Neymar and Casemiro were called to action. Robertson made way for Grimaldo, and Ricardo León was subbed off as Casemiro stepped in, immediately barking orders and tightening up the midfield.
The formation morphed into something more recognizable. Control gradually returned, bit by bit.
Sociedad kept pushing, fueled by the crowd and sensing that Tenerife was on the back foot, but the pace of the game began to slow. Varane started to intercept runs, using his long reach to snuff out any threats. Nino, a bit rattled but supported, simplified his approach, clearing the ball and staying compact.
Joel sprinted back, his lungs on fire. Grimaldo kept pace with his runner every time. Kanté was relentless.
By the time the final whistle blew, the match had settled into a tense 1-1 draw. One point earned through hard work. It was uncomfortable, but they had fought hard for it.
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Table Snapshot (La Liga - Post Matchday 20):
1-Barcelona – 48 pts
2-Real Madrid – 45 pts
3-Tenerife – 43 pts