The world caught fire.
Online, in the media, in pubs and living rooms, in schools, group chats, newsrooms, and airports—everywhere. From London to Lisbon, from Manchester to Madeira. The final whistle hadn't just ended a match. It had set up a collision.
England vs. Portugal.
Tristan Hale vs. Cristiano Ronaldo
Number 22 vs Number 7.
The new king against one of the old kings.
The first match between the two legends.
And the world couldn't contain itself.
Commentators called it destiny.
Journalists called it generational.
Fans just lost their minds.
.
Especially over Belgium.
A World Cup golden generation. Broken. Imploded. In a semifinal.
By the time Kane found the net and England led 2–0, it wasn't even football anymore, it was infighting. Shrugs. Blame. Lukaku disappearing. De Bruyne and Hazard barking at each other like it was a contract dispute.
Fans naturally lost it on Twitter as always.
@Wit_wee: Wtf was that match against Belgium. Lmao their midfield was beefing mid-game.
↳@Aaron_Hand_4795: Hazard and De Bruyne arguing while Tristan's doing the Lord's work. What the fuck were they thinking?
@Somnifer: Imagine being Belgium. I honestly feel bad for the fans. You lose because of infighting in the fucking semi-finals aginst a demi-god.
Then the Belgians joined in.
And they didn't hold back.
@Skybreak619: I was ready to lose to England. Not like this. Not with our players acting like children.
↳@Zvixx: €200 million in talent and no chemistry like I was ready to bash my head against the wall. This was just Tristan and England bullying us whilst our players just fought amongst ourselves.
@Twilight_2000: Hazard and De Bruyne have hated each other for five years and we're just now seeing it? What a disaster of a game it was.
@Lucho: Tristan dismantled our entire midfield without breaking a sweat. Can we get one player who tracks a run? Just one? Wtf was our team expecting having Tristan on Kevin like did we not watch Tristan bully him like twenty times now?
↳@LukakuIsAFruadLikeGarp: Our striker touched the ball 9 times. Nine. I hate it here, like someone kill me please.
@DeBruyneSucksLikeBB: Honestly Kevin was the only one trying. But Hale owns him. Everyone knows it. We never had a chance.
@Pokemon_Master: Tristan didn't even celebrate that much. Hell none of that players did like look at the way they celebrated beating France compared to us. Didn't even take us seriously and we lost this badly.
↳@BiscuitTheMaltipoo: My dad Tristan says Belguim was never a threat, lol. And he thinks Kevin is like a kid compared to him comparing a coughing baby to a nuke.
.
The Portuguese media were already spiraling long before England hadeven beaten Belgium yet. Pundits, papers, and panels were openly questioning how anyone was supposed to stop this England side, let alone Portugal.
UEFA EURO 2016 FINAL PREVIEW Portuguese Broadcast | RTP Desporto Live from Lisbon
The broadcast cut in with a fireball graphic erupting across the screen. "EURO FINAL: ENGLAND VS PORTUGAL".
Three men sat around a sleek black table, spotlights overhead, tension already in the air. Behind them, a massive screen showed the two titans: Ronaldo in red. Tristan in white.
"This," the host began, tightening his tie mid-sentence, "is not a final. It is a baptism by fire."
Luis Figo shook his head. "We should be grateful we're even here. Grateful. Because this England team? They're not playing football that's on a level similar to the rest of the world. This reminds me of prime Spain, prime Barcalona in 2009."
"Six wins in six games," the second panelist added. Rui Costa leaned forward, eyes sharp. "No draws. No losses. Fourteen goals scored. Three conceded. And Tristan Hale has been man of the match six times. SIX!"
"Compare that to Portugal," Figo cut in. "Three draws in the group stage. Three! We were a single goal from going home early. And now we have to face this kid in the form of his life?"
The camera pulled in tight. Rui Costa listed them off like crimes. "England 3–1 Russia. Tristan: 2 goals. England 3–1 Wales. Tristan: 1 goal, 2 assists. England 2–0 Slovakia. Tristan: 1 assist. England 4–0 Northern Ireland. Tristan: Hat-trick. England 2–1 France. Tristan: 1 goal, 1 assist. England 2–0 Belgium. Tristan: 1 assist."
The studio went quiet.
"He's got 8 goals and 6 assists," the host whispered. "In six matches."
"And you know what's worse?" Figo muttered. "He makes it look easy. He's not even celebrating. The France match? That was a war. The Belgium match? He played like he was bored."
"So what can Ronaldo do?" Rui asked. "Honestly. What can he do? Drag us? Again?"
The host sighed. "If Cristiano beats Tristan Hale in this final… it would be the greatest individual performance in a final since Zidane in '98. Maybe better."
Figo nodded slowly. "Because here's the reality. Tristan Hale is already the Ballon d'Or favorite. 99% favorite. This season? Golden Boy. Puskás. Premier League Player of the Year. Young Player if they even see Tristan as a young player. Footballer of the Year. FIFPro XI. England's Player of the Year. He has like 100 goals and 100 assists in one season."
"To take that away from him," Rui said, "Cristiano would need a hat-trick. A perfect game. Assist, goals, leadership, magic. He would need the game of his life and even then, it still wouldn't make him the clear favorite."
The host tapped the table. "This isn't just the final of a tournament. This is the passing of a crown. Or the defense of it."
Behind them, the graphic reappeared.
ENGLAND VS. PORTUGAL
TRISTAN VS. RONALDO
THE FINAL
.
Two Days Before the Final
The hotel room was quiet, wrapped in the low hum of the AC and the occasional distant sound of traffic. Curtains drawn. Lights off except for the glow of a muted TV in the corner.
Tristan was slouched against the headboard in a plain white tee, one arm tucked under his head, the other resting on Barbara's hip. Biscuit lay curled up between them, her small chest rising and falling.
Barbara's bare legs were draped over his, the blanket tangled somewhere around her thighs. Her hair was still damp from her evening shower, tucked behind one ear as she scrolled through her phone with lazy fingers.
Tristan wasn't scrolling lazily.
He was reading everything.
His phone lit up article after article, headline after headline.
"THE FINAL OF FINALS: HALE VS RONALDO."
"ENGLAND'S PRODIGY CARRIES A NATION."
"THE QUEEN CONFIRMS ATTENDANCE FOR EURO FINAL."
"CAN TRISTAN HALE COMPLETE THE GREATEST SEASON EVER?
"IS THIS THE END OF RONALDO'S ERA?"
He locked his phone, thumb hovering for a second before tossing it onto the nightstand.
Barbara's voice came soft. "Nervous?"
Tristan blinked up at the ceiling. Then turned toward her. "Nah. Not really."
She raised an eyebrow.
"I'm serious," he said. "I feel calm. Or maybe just… ready. I've played Ronaldo before. In my head. Hundreds of times. Just never with a trophy at stake."
Barbara shifted onto her side, propping her head up on her hand. Her other arm reached across Biscuit to gently trace the edge of his jaw. "Still. It's a final. The whole world's watching. Even the Queen's coming."
Tristan gave her a look. "And?"
Barbara smiled. "And I think it's okay if you're nervous."
"I'd feel a lot better," he said, "if I got a few kisses first."
She laughed under her breath and leaned in, brushing her lips against his once, then again. Biscuit made a little groaning noise between them but didn't move.
"That help?" she whispered.
"Little bit," he murmured, eyes still half-lidded. "Still think I deserve some kind of award if we win."
Barbara leaned back on her elbow. "You already have, like, twenty."
"I'm not talking about those."
"Oh?" Her smile curved slowly, mischievous. "And what kind of award are we talking about, Hale?"
Tristan shrugged. "Something personal. One-of-a-kind. From you. Something I'll actually enjoy."
Barbara didn't blink. "I can think of something."
He turned to face her fully.
"But," she said, poking his chest once, "only if you win."
Tristan grinned now, the real one, eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's the best motivation I've had all year."
Barbara kissed him once more, then grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.
On the TV, a slow-motion shot of him stepping over the ball against Belgium filled the screen before switching to a graphic of the finals with a image of Tristan with a question over it.
The caption read:
"CAN HE BECOME THE GREATEST OF ALL TIME?"
.
Two chapters left until the final which will be combined into one long chapter instead of 3 as I'm not sure I would be able to post them daily and I don't want to ruin the experience of reading a single chapter than waiting another 4 days for a second chapter. I know that can be annoying.
Besides that join the Discord and P@tron if you are interested and check out my others, please, lol.