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***
Champion's League Quarter Finals : 1st Leg
Barcelona vs Manchester City – March,2015
Venue. : Camp Nou
The scene was nothing short of electric. Camp Nou, bathed in spring sunlight, had been filling for hours. Even with hours to kickoff, a restless tension pulsed through the stands. Flags bearing the Blaugrana colors draped over every railing, thousands of scarves swirled in rhythm with chants, and an overwhelming sea of red and blue cloaked the monumental stadium.
This was no ordinary European night—it was the night. For Barcelona, a club synonymous with European dominance, this was about restoring pride. They have failed to lift the trophy in recent years, and they wanted that to change.
For Manchester City, the stakes were historic. This wasn't just about winning a quarter-final leg. It was about sending a message to Europe: we belong here too. Winning here will secure their first ever semi final appearance on Champion's League.
There were only slivers of sky blue in the upper reaches of Camp Nou—City fans scattered sparsely, flanked by security. But nestled among them, in small clusters, Málaga fans waved their white-and-blue flags in defiance. They had not come for Manchester City. They had come for Adriano.
Down in the tunnel, as the roar of 90,000 filtered in like thunder from above, City's players stood shoulder to shoulder. Adriano, fitted in a long-sleeved kit and captain's armband, stared forward at the light pouring in from the tunnel exit. To his right, Hazard adjusted his socks. Kane bounced on his heels.
"Feels different out there," Kane muttered under his breath.
Hazard glanced over. "Good different or bad different?"
Adriano, eyes still forward, answered first. "Exactly how it should feel."
The Barcelona players began emerging first, met with a roar that rattled the stadium's core. Messi, Suarez, Neymar—the trident of terror—walked out with the swagger of a thousand goals between them. Behind them, Xavi, Iniesta, and Busquets—the heartbeat of a dynasty—took in the moment. They'd ruled this field before. They didn't expect to be handing over their crown tonight.
Then came City.
As the players emerged to whistles, a few sections in the rafters cheered in contrast. A sharp burst of noise came from the Málaga fans, chanting Adriano's name like a war hymn. He gave a short nod toward them and tightened his armband.
From the commentary box high above the pitch, Martin Tyler took a deep breath as the stadium swelled with sound.
"Welcome to the Camp Nou. A cathedral of European football. And tonight, it hosts a clash between tradition and ambition. Manchester City, led by Adriano and full of world-class talents, arrive in Barcelona with more than just belief—they arrive with purpose."
Alan Smith leaned forward, studying the body language on the pitch.
"It's always a test coming here. But you look at that City side—it's fearless. Kimmich, Robertson bombing forward, Silva and De Bruyne pulling strings, and of course, Adriano. For him, this is more than just football. This is where he started. Where he was let go. He's not just here to win—he's here to settle something."
Tyler nodded. "And look at that Barcelona front three. Messi, Neymar, Suarez—if you've ever written a football nightmare, it likely had those three in it. But City have a chance here. A real chance. And tonight could be the beginning of something special."
****
On BT Sport's pregame panel, Gary Lineker offered the betting breakdown.
"Barcelona are slight favourites tonight—odds are around 11/10 for them to win at home. City are at 5/2, with the draw at 3/1. But here's what's interesting—Adriano is 4/1 to score anytime, same as Messi. Bookies aren't underestimating him."
Rio Ferdinand chimed in.
"City's form coming into this has been phenomenal. Adriano's delivering every week. They've got pace, creativity, and Kane up front. The big question is how their defence holds against Messi and Suarez."
****
The coin toss was made. Adriano and Xavi exchanged a brief handshake—respectful, but cold. They once trained together at La Masia alongside other current players when he was still playing there. That felt like another lifetime.
As players took positions, Martin Tyler offered one final thought:
"You can feel the weight of this match in the air. Barcelona looking to remind Europe who they are. They have had an excellent season so far.
Meanwhile, Manchester City here to rewrite their story of past failures. They have built the "Blue Moon Galacticos" , and they have the brightest star of this era to lead them to glory.
It's not just a quarter-final leg—it's a battle for identity."
Alan Smith added, just as the referee raised the whistle:
" I agree Martin. Barcelona has a long, illustrious legacy, while Manchester City have yet to make their mark on Europe. But this season, it has been like a dream for them. Just a couple defeats i the whole season whenthey played basically a reserve squad.
Juventus shocked them in last round, but they bounced back strong , and it was their main man Adriano who led them to the quarter finals. Just look at those stats Martin, 47 goals and 24 assists in just 29 matches! The lad has been absolutely amazing in both scoring and creating chances. Manchester fans would be looking forward to another stunning performance from the 19 year old.
But it won't be easy. They call this place a fortress. Let's see if City have come to tear down the walls."
First Ninety minutes of the one eighty minutes stood between history and heartbreak.
And under the Spanish sun, Manchester City would be facing their hardest fight yet.
***
The sun over Catalonia dipped low as Kick off approached, casting a golden hue across the colossal stands of the Camp Nou. But the glow came not just from the sky—it radiated from the occasion.
A Champions League quarter-final between two footballing titans: the historic giants of Barcelona, and the surging force of Manchester City, eager to etch their name into Europe's elite.
Weeks of anticipation had built to this. Tensions boiled. Songs clashed. Supporters from both ends of the football spectrum filled the stadium well before kickoff.
Over 90,000 strong, a tide of red and blue unfurled massive flags from the upper tiers to the pitch, accompanied by rhythmic chants of "Visca el Barça!" Banners bearing images of club legends—Cruyff, Ronaldinho, Iniesta—rippled above the terraces. Camp Nou wasn't just ready. It was crackling.
Yet tucked into the highest corner of the stadium, outnumbered but proud, sat a patch of City blue. Among them, scattered Málaga fans waved signs that read "Adriano, Siempre Uno De Nosotros"—a tribute to the player who had led them to their greatest triumphs last season.
The whistles and boos that greeted City's warm-up weren't universal. Adriano, in particular, stirred mixed emotions.
As both teams emerged from the tunnel to the Champions League anthem, the sound was deafening. Not just noise—atmosphere.
Messi led out Barcelona with the stoic calm of a man who had done this countless times. Behind him, Suarez gritted his teeth. Neymar bounced, loose and focused.
On the opposite side, City's lineup was all steel and concentration. Adriano walked out slowly, eyes scanning the stands. He adjusted his captain's armband and looked over at the Málaga section before bumping fists with Hazard and Kane.
As the City lineup was read aloud by the stadium PA, jeers followed each name. Joe Hart was met with mocking applause. Mangala's name earned a few laughs.
But when "Number 10, Adriano!" echoed through the speakers, the reaction was conflicted.
Some whistled, others booed. And then, from the Málaga fans high in the east stand—cheers.
"KingAdriano! King Adriano!" rang faintly above the noise.
Kane leaned in.
"Still not used to this, mate?"
Adriano smiled faintly. "You never do.. But I'm ready for it." He clapped slowly towards the away fans who have come here to support them.
****
High in the gantry, Martin Tyler took a steady breath before beginning the broadcast.
"Good evening from Camp Nou. The stage is set, the stadium is full, and the stakes couldn't be higher. Barcelona versus Manchester City—a quarter-final that could tilt the balance of European power. The hosts, with a glittering past, face a City side with ambitions of writing their first true chapter of continental greatness."
Alan Smith responded, eyes on the pitch.
"And what a setting, Martin. This is where legends are made. And tonight, Manchester City arrive with a starting eleven that oozes talent. Adriano, Silva, De Bruyne, Hazard—these aren't just big names, they're big-time players. But playing here, under this pressure, against this team—it's a test like no other."
LINEUP ANALYSIS – MANCHESTER CITY (4-3-3)
Martin Tyler continued:
"Let's take a look at the visitors first. Joe Hart is in goal as usual—he'll need to be sharp. Kimmich and Robertson provide width and energy from the full-back positions, while Mats Hummels brings experience alongside Mangala, who's been solid in recent weeks. They will miss the experience of Kompany and Zabaleta for sure, but the replacements have been quite decent."
Alan Smith nodded:
"It's that midfield three that will be critical, Martin. David Silva and Kevin De Bruyne are natural creators, but they'll have to put in the hard yards defensively too. We can expect Casemiro to come on in the 2nd half to provide more depth.
Up front, you've got Salah wide right, Hazard on the left, and Adriano playing just behind young Harry Kane—who's enjoying a sensational first season at this level. Even the rotation striker has more than 10 goals , that shows how clinical this side is."
Martin Tyler:
"And let's not forget, Adriano is returning to Camp Nou once again as a global superstar. Ballon d'Or nominee. World Cup winner. But also—once a La Masia reject who was abandoned by the club.
He has made it clear how he felt about that when Barcelona made a 100 million plus bid this summer to welcome him back.There's a story here that writes itself. Let's see if makes them regret it once more."
LINEUP ANALYSIS – BARCELONA (4-3-3)
Alan Smith took over:
"Barcelona stick with their traditional 4-3-3. Ter Stegen between the posts—he's been in top form this season. Dani Alves and Jordi Alba as the full-backs, Piqué partnered with Vermaelen at the heart of defence. Mascherano is still not fully recovered from the injury from last week."
Martin Tyler interjected:
"And a midfield trio that has dominated Europe in years past—Busquets, Xavi, Iniesta. Experience, composure, and rhythm. They'll look to control the tempo and keep City chasing shadows. But they aging and not the same as 2010 era of Spain."
Alan Smith:
"Then of course… the front three. Messi on the right, Neymar on the left, Suarez through the middle. This is arguably one of the most devastating attacking trio in world football. If they click, it's curtains for any defence."
As the camera panned across the players lining up, the expressions told the story. Neymar winked to the crowd. Messi stood impassive, hands behind his back. Xavi looked across the pitch at Silva—two craftsmen, once teammates, now opponents.
Kane bounced on his toes and turned to Adriano.
"You ready for this bro?"
Adriano grinned, gaze locked on the Barcelona crest across the field.
"I've done it with Málaga. I'll do it again with you lot."
Hazard smirked. "No pressure, captain. But it would be nice if you create a chance or two for me."
Adriano smiled, " I' see what I can do." He looked up towards the VIP stands where Kate was cheering for him, wearing his City jersey and waving a blue scarf. He waved at her , making her smile.
Silva gave him a smack on the back, " Easy there Lover boy. Focus on the game now. "
Hazard shook his head, " Our captain likes to rub it in that he has a pretty girlfriend who's a movie star."
De Bruyne shrugged, " You'd be doing it too , and it would be worse than Adriano." Both chuckled at the joke.
A few meters away, Suarez muttered something in Spanish to Neymar and pointed at the City bench. Neymar laughed, then looked at Adriano and gave him a long, unreadable stare. Adriano just ignored him and spoke something to Silva who laughed hearing it.
As the referee raised his whistle and gestured to the center circle, Martin Tyler concluded:
"They say Camp Nou is a fortress. But tonight, Manchester City have brought a siege. This isn't just a match. It's a moment. It's Barcelona. It's City. And it's about to begin."
The whistle blew, and 22 of the world's best took their first steps toward European glory.
***
The shrill blast of the referee's whistle echoed through the towering walls of Camp Nou, slicing through the hum of expectation. Instantly, a wall of sound erupted from the stands—Barcelona had kicked off, and their fans demanded blood.
Straight from the center, Sergio Busquets played it short to Xavi, who feathered the ball out wide to Dani Alves. Barcelona flowed into their rhythm with terrifying ease. Within thirty seconds, Messi had already cut inside from the right, pulling Mangala out of shape, before sliding a neat one-two with Iniesta. It was all sharp, tight, and familiar.
"Barcelona come out like a house on fire," said Martin Tyler, his voice steady beneath the surge of crowd noise. "Fluid. Fast. And full of intent."
Alan Smith chimed in, "That's what makes them so dangerous in this stadium—relentless in possession, but they also know how to squeeze you without the ball. City have to hold their nerve."
By the second minute, Neymar had already drawn a foul from Kimmich, the young German fullback just a fraction late as the Brazilian tried a step-over and surge down the left. Neymar sprawled on the turf theatrically, clutching his shin.
"Bit of a soft one," said Alan, "but that's what Neymar does. He invites contact."
Free-kick from 30 yards. Xavi stood over it, the City box packed. He floated it in toward the near post. Piqué rose above Mangala—just grazed it—but Joe Hart snatched it confidently from the air.
Hart shouted out, "Settle! Calm down!" as he rolled it quickly to Robertson on the left.
The next few minutes were a blur of possession and probing. Messi dropped deeper, linking with Iniesta and Alves. Kane, Hazard, and Salah were pinned back. Adriano floated across the midfield like a ghost, always reading, always adjusting.
By the fourth minute, City had yet to complete five passes in a row. But then came the shift.
It began with De Bruyne spinning away from Busquets in midfield. The Belgian ghosted into space and clipped a sharp pass into Salah on the right.
Salah: "Kev! One more!"
De Bruyne surged forward as Salah slipped it back to him. A quick touch, then a diagonal ball fizzed to Hazard on the left, who instantly killed it dead.
"Lovely switch of play!" Martin Tyler exclaimed. "De Bruyne starting to unpick those seams."
Hazard danced past Dani Alves, drew in Piqué, and cut inside. He slid it to Adriano, who had dropped deep to receive.
"Turn! Turn!" Kane called.
Adriano did more than that. He feinted left, dragged the ball right with the sole of his boot, and slipped a disguised pass between the lines for Kane, who was already on the shoulder of Vermaelen.
Kane burst into the box, took a heavy touch, then tried to poke it around Ter Stegen—
—but the German keeper read it and went down early to smother the chance.
"Big moment for City!" shouted Tyler. "And Harry Kane knows he should've done better."
Kane clapped in frustration. "That was on me," he muttered to Adriano as they jogged back.
Adriano just nodded. "Next one. Keep making the run."
Barcelona weren't rattled. They never are. Within sixty seconds, Suarez bullied Hummels off the ball near the center circle, then spun and darted down the middle. Mangala stepped up and caught him—late.
Free-kick. Whistles from the stands. Suarez rolled around dramatically.
Martin Tyler: "Clumsy from Mangala. And now Barcelona have another dangerous set piece."
Alan Smith added, "They're so good at drawing fouls in those pockets. It adds up."
Xavi again over the ball. Thirty yards out. But this time, he disguised the delivery—short to Messi, who whipped it instantly toward Neymar at the far post. Neymar went for the volley—
—and shinned it into the side netting.
Roars from the crowd turned to groans.
"That's a let-off for City!" said Tyler. "He had space. He had time."
By the eighth minute, Pellegrini was off his seat, gesturing at the midfield to push higher. De Bruyne and Silva responded. A chain of slick passes brought City up the field again.
Kimmich overlapped Salah, received the ball, and drove a low cross into the six-yard box. Ter Stegen lunged but fumbled it. Hazard pounced—but Jordi Alba got the block.
"Scramble in the box!" Tyler's voice climbed. "City knocking now!"
The ball popped back out to Adriano at the edge of the area. He took one touch, then let fly with a curling effort aimed for the top left corner.
"Adriano!!"
It whistled just over the bar.
Gasps from the away end. The Málaga fans stood, clapping.
"Not far away at all," Alan said. "That's a man who's been here before. He knows what he's doing."
Adriano clenched his fists, looked up toward the Málaga section, and nodded.
At the ten-minute mark, the rhythm had changed. Barcelona's early stranglehold was loosening. Pellegrini sat back down, arms folded. His side was growing.
"This," said Martin Tyler, "is no longer Barcelona dictating the tempo. Manchester City are here. They've weathered the opening storm—and they're starting to believe."
Just past the tenth minute, Barcelona were shifting the ball in midfield again, trying to reassert dominance. But this time, City had read the pattern. Xavi tried to thread a vertical ball toward Neymar, but Mats Hummels stepped in, clean as you like. A sharp interception on the half-turn. No slide, no panic—just control.
"That's textbook defending," noted Alan Smith, impressed. "He saw it coming two passes ago."
Hummels didn't hesitate. He nudged it forward into the feet of David Silva, who barely even looked before flicking a first-time pass around the approaching Busquets. Kevin De Bruyne was already on his way, reading the move a second ahead.
Camp Nou tensed.
"Suddenly Barcelona are stretched," Martin Tyler observed, the tension rising in his voice. "City have found an outlet… and space!"
Hazard was already sprinting down the left. De Bruyne's diagonal ball was hit with perfection—weighted like a striker's finish, spinning across the pitch with just enough backspin for Hazard to take it in stride.
"Lovely ball," Alan murmured. "Now what's he got here?"
"De Bruyne's spotted Hazard early here…" Martin Tyler's voice rose as the diagonal ball arced into space.
Hazard brought it down on the run. In a single fluid motion, he shifted it out of his feet and looked up. He glanced once—and spotted the late run. Adriano, ghosting in from the inside-right channel, between Busquets and Piqué, eyes locked on the space, not the ball.
Hazard didn't hesitate. He whipped it low and hard across the face of goal. The type of cross that causes panic. Adriano read it early, adjusting his stride with precision. It skidded through the air, head-height at first before dipping.
Busquets saw the danger too late.
The midfielder caught defending his own box never looked composed. He reached out—his hand grabbing Adriano's jersey just enough to shift balance. The contact was subtle but enough.
Adriano didn't go down dramatically like Neymar. He simply slowed down when he sensed the pull and let it pull him downward. He Stumbled briefly, and then let gravity do the rest.
He hit the ground just as the ball zipped past.
The whistle cut through the noise like a blade.
Immediate uproar. The City bench leapt to their feet. Pellegrini shouted furiously in Spanish.
Silva and Kane were on the referee in a heartbeat.
"That's a foul! That's a clear pull down!" Silva shouted, gesturing furiously.
"Come on! That's a yellow!" Kane added, pointing at Busquets.
Busquets raised both hands in protest, jaw dropped in feigned innocence. Xavi and Pique also arrived to defend him. But the referee was having none of it. The yellow card flashed before he could even finish protesting.
Martin Tyler didn't hesitate. "The referee had no doubts. And nor should he. Busquets guilty of panicking, and Adriano… well, he sold it just enough."
"Stonewall foul," said Alan Smith. "You can't do that—not when the runner's in front of you. Adriano read the contact brilliantly. He's played in this stadium too many times to waste moments like that."
The Barcelona crowd erupted in whistles and jeers, waving arms, shouting toward the fourth official. But even the big screen replay left little doubt: the arm came across, and Adriano was denied a clear chance.
Adriano picked himself up, brushed off the dust, and walked straight to the ball.
De Bruyne hovered near. "Want it?"
Adriano shook his head. "I got it."
Silva just gave him a nod and backed off. "Take it, captain."
The placement was awkward—thirty yards out, slightly right of center. Not ideal for a right-footer. But Adriano wasn't hesitating.
He took his usual three-step walk back. The Camp Nou crowd was alive now, a thousand claps and shouts trying to shake his focus. Ter Stegen shouted behind the wall, waving frantically, lining it up.
Adriano stood over the ball, hands on hips, like a painter eyeing a blank canvas. Then came the whistle.
One deep breath.
Then he moved.
A calm, compact run-up. He didn't lash it. He passed it with venom—curling it with the inside of his boot, shaping it around the wall. It started wide. Too wide, maybe.
The ball then curled viciously, bending right to left, high then dipping late. Ter Stegen launched himself—fingertips clawing at air—but it was past him.
The ball curled perfectly into the top right corner.
Ter Stegen never had a chance.
THUMP. The inside of the net rippled as the ball slammed into it, precise as geometry.
Silence.
Ninety thousand fans, frozen. Stunned by the sudden goal.
The Goal Announcers voice came : Gooooaaalllll! Adriano scores from the free kick in the 11th minute, to put Man City ahead! It's 1-0 for the visitors at Camp Nou!
Only the away corner erupted—flags waving violently, fans screaming, strangers grabbing each other in disbelief and joy.
The small pocket of Manchester City supporters—joined by a few Málaga fans draped in scarves—erupted. Arms punched the sky. A chant rang out: "Ole, ole, Rey Adriano!"
Martin Tyler's voice rose with it. "What a hit! What a moment! Adriano—deadly from distance—and Manchester City lead at the Camp Nou!"
Alan Smith was shaking his head in admiration. "And that's a captain's goal. Cool, clinical, and silenced 90,000 people. That's not just technique—that's nerve."
Adriano sprinted toward the touchline, his face a mask of calm. Then he stopped, just near the edge of the pitch—arms out, hands to ears and shouted. "I can't hear you."
The away end answered. A chorus of chants, led by the fans, exploded into the air: "The King is here!" Some Malaga fans had tears in their eyes , celebrating with their hero once more.
Adriano let the moment breathe. Then he bowed Slightly. Then turned his gaze toward the VIP section.
Kate, wrapped in her blue-and-white scarf despite the warmth, stood grinning. She clapped with a huge smile, and when Adriano raised a single finger toward her, she pointed one right back. He was then immediately jumped by his teammates who rushed in, laughing and cheering.
Next to Kate, Raul leaned in with a smirk. "Did you guys make a bet or something?"
Kate didn't take her eyes off the pitch as she smiled. "Something like that."
Raul chuckled. "Well, I'm betting on him for the rest of the night."
Back on the field, Barcelona players were silent, gathering around the center circle, heads down. Busquets exchanged a few muttered words with Iniesta—something about cover and timing.
Back on the pitch, Kane jogged up to Adriano and gave him a solid shove on the shoulder. "That was sick. I thought you'd go near post."
Adriano smirked. "So did Ter Stegen."
Silva joined in. "Told you to leave it to him," he said to De Bruyne, who nodded. "I'm not arguing."
As they walked back to their positions, Busquets muttered to Iniesta, "He's going to keep pulling us around like this if we don't tighten up."
Iniesta nodded, serious now. The Barcelona players formed a quick huddle near the center circle. Piqué shouted at Vermaelen, motioning toward Kane. Dani Alves pointed at Hazard. The tension was visible now.
On the touchline, Luis Enrique's arms were crossed, lips pressed tight.
Pellegrini, meanwhile, stayed motionless, the faintest nod betraying his satisfaction. This—this precise execution of pressure, transition, and final blow—was by design.
At the halfway line, Salah jogged up beside Adriano, slapping his back. "That's how you shut 'em up, mate."
Hazard joined from the other side. "That pass count as an assist?"
Adriano smirked. "Only if I miss next time."
Pellegrini didn't react much. Just a nod. A whisper to his assistant. The plan was in motion.
The referee checked his watch, then blew for the restart.
Luis Suárez tapped it to Messi, who took off immediately. The match was alive again.
But one thing was clear now.
Manchester City weren't just here to participate.. They were contenders.
And Adriano had just drawn first blood.
And there's more to come.