Liga 1 Standings (After 35 matches - Mid-May 2017):
FCSB - 84 points (GD: +38)
CFR Cluj - 83 points (GD: +35)
Universitatea Craiova - 71 points
The penultimate weekend of the season brought the match everyone had been waiting for: FCSB versus CFR Cluj at the Stadionul Național. First versus second. Winner would almost certainly claim the title.
The city was electric. Every conversation, every news broadcast, every social media post focused on one thing: the title decider.
Elena was working on a long-form feature about the match—the tactical battle, the key players, the historical significance. She interviewed everyone: players, coaches, fans, historians.
"This is the biggest Liga 1 match in five years," she told Andrei over breakfast three days before the game. "The entire country will be watching."
"No pressure, then."
"You thrive under pressure. That's your superpower."
Andrei wasn't so sure. His hands shook slightly as he held his coffee cup. The weight of expectation felt crushing.
Training that week was unlike anything he'd experienced. Every drill was performed with match intensity. Every tactical session meticulously planned. Reghecampf left nothing to chance.
"Cluj will come here to defend and counter," the coach explained to the squad. "They'll put eleven men behind the ball and try to hurt us on transitions. We need patience, intelligence, and clinical finishing."
CFR Cluj - Expected Formation (5-3-2):
GK: Giedrius Arlauskis
DEF (RWB): Paulo Vinícius
CB: Mike Cestor
CB: Matías Aguirregaray
CB: Kevin Boli
DEF (LWB): Camora
CM: Panagiotis Tachtsidis (C)
CDM: Jakub Vojtus
CM: Catalin Golofca
ST: George Țucudean
ST: Billel Omrani
A defensive setup designed to frustrate. Cluj's coach, Edward Iordănescu (son of Romania's legendary manager Anghel Iordănescu), was tactically astute and pragmatic.
FCSB Starting XI (4-2-3-1):
GK: Andrei Vlad
DEF (RB): Romario Benzar
CB: Marko Momčilović
CB: Ionuț Panțîru
DEF (LB): Risto Radunović
CDM: Mihai Pintilii (C)
CDM: Filipe Teixeira
RW: Florinel Coman
CAM: Constantin Budescu
LW/CAM: Andrei Luca
ST: Harlem Gnohere
FCSB vs CFR Cluj - Liga 1
Stadionul Național, Bucharest
May 21st, 2017
The atmosphere was unlike anything Andrei had experienced. 38,000 fans packed every corner of the stadium—the largest crowd of the season. Flares burned, drums pounded, voices raised in songs that shook the foundations.
This was Romanian football at its most passionate.
The teams walked out to deafening noise. Andrei's legs felt weak, his heart hammering against his ribs.
System Alert:
Pressure level: MAXIMUM
Composure: 61.2/99 (Under extreme stress)
Match importance: Career-defining
He looked up into the stands, searching for Elena. He couldn't find her in the press box, but he knew she was there. That helped somehow.
Kickoff.
Cluj immediately implemented their defensive strategy—five at the back, three banks of defenders, no space anywhere. FCSB probed and pushed, but couldn't find a way through.
In the 12th minute, disaster nearly struck. A Cluj counter saw Omrani break clear down the left. His cross found Țucudean at the back post, completely unmarked.
The striker headed powerfully—but Andrei Vlad produced a miracle save, tipping it over the crossbar.
"FOCUS!" Pintilii roared.
The match settled into a pattern—FCSB attacking, Cluj defending and occasionally threatening on the counter. Frustration built in the home crowd.
By halftime, it remained 0-0. The dressing room was tense.
"They can't defend for ninety minutes," Reghecampf insisted. "Someone will make a mistake. Be patient, stay composed, and punish them when it comes."
The second half began with renewed intensity. FCSB pushed higher, committed more bodies forward. That created space for Cluj's counters—dangerous space.
In the 61st minute, the breakthrough almost came. Budescu's brilliant pass found Andrei in the left channel. He drove at his defender, cut inside, and struck with his right foot from twenty yards.
The shot was goal-bound—until Arlauskis produced a stunning save, diving full-stretch to tip it around the post.
"FUCK!" Andrei screamed in frustration.
Shooting: Excellent attempt but denied
Composure: Declining under pressure
Minutes ticked by. 65, 70, 75. The title was slipping through their fingers.
In the 78th minute, Reghecampf made changes—bringing on Dennis Man and fresh striker Raul Rusescu for the exhausted Coman and Gnohere. All or nothing now.
The substitutions energized FCSB. They threw everyone forward, desperate for the goal that would secure the title.
In the 84th minute, it happened.
A corner kick—FCSB's tenth of the match. Even Pintilii pushed into Cluj's penalty area. Budescu delivered the cross toward the near post.
Momčilović flicked it on with his head. The ball sailed over Arlauskis and a crowd of defenders, bouncing dangerously in the six-yard box.
Andrei was at the back post. He'd made this run a hundred times in training, in matches, in his dreams. This was muscle memory.
The ball dropped.
Time slowed to a crawl.
Three Cluj defenders converged on him. Arlauskis scrambled desperately across his goal. The angle was tight, almost impossible.
Critical Moment:
Composure Check: ULTIMATE PRESSURE
Current: 61.2/99 - BARELY ADEQUATE
Everything depends on this
His father's voice echoed in memory: Make something of yourself.
Elena's voice: You thrive under pressure.
His own voice: I stayed to win the title.
Andrei struck the ball with his right foot—not powerful, just precise. He aimed for the gap between the nearest post and the diving goalkeeper.
The ball flew through the chaos, through outstretched hands and desperate blocks, and nestled in the bottom corner.
GOAL.
The stadium exploded into absolute pandemonium.
Andrei didn't remember the next thirty seconds. Suddenly he was at the bottom of a pile of celebrating teammates, oxygen gone, ears ringing, every nerve ending firing at once.
When the pile finally cleared, he looked up at the sky and screamed—pure emotion, pure release, pure joy.
GOAL SCORED - TITLE-DECIDING MOMENT
Composure: +0.5 (performed in ultimate pressure)
Mental Strength: +0.4 (delivered when it mattered most)
Positioning: +0.2 (perfect placement)
Overall Rating: 73.7 → 74.9
RATING MILESTONE: BROKE THROUGH 74 BARRIER
FCSB 1-0 CFR Cluj. Six minutes plus stoppage time to hold on.
Cluj threw everything forward now, desperate for an equalizer. Their defensive structure abandoned, they pushed bodies into attack.
The final minutes were agony. Cluj created two clear chances—both saved by the brilliant Vlad. FCSB defended with everything, bodies thrown into blocks, last-ditch tackles, pure heart.
In the 93rd minute, the referee checked his watch.
He blew the final whistle.
FCSB had done it.
The players collapsed to the turf—some in tears, others just staring at the sky in disbelief. The crowd was delirious, celebrating like they'd won the Champions League.
Andrei lay on the grass, chest heaving, unable to process what had just happened. He'd scored the goal that won the title. At eighteen years old, he'd delivered in the biggest moment of his young life.
Pintilii pulled him up, tears streaming down the captain's face. "YOU DID IT! YOU FUCKING DID IT!"
The celebrations were chaotic, emotional, overwhelming. Players danced, sang, sprayed champagne. Reghecampf, normally reserved, was grinning like a child.
In the mixed zone afterward, Elena was waiting. Professional distance was impossible now—she threw her arms around him, not caring about the cameras.
"I'm so proud of you," she whispered. "So incredibly proud."
"We haven't officially won yet—"
"Yes, you have. CFR has to win their last match and you have to lose yours by four goals. It's over, Andrei. You're champions."
Liga 1 Standings (After 36 matches):
FCSB - 87 points (GD: +39)
CFR Cluj - 83 points (GD: +35)
Four points clear with one match remaining. Mathematically, it was possible for Cluj to catch up, but realistically, the title was won.
That night, the team celebrated at a restaurant in the old town. Champagne flowed, players gave speeches, emotions ran high. Andrei was named Man of the Match—his decisive goal the defining moment of FCSB's season.
But he slipped away early, needing quiet, needing Elena.
They went to Herăstrău Park, walking along the lake in the darkness. The city lights reflected on the water, beautiful and peaceful.
"How do you feel?" Elena asked.
"Numb. Overwhelmed. Like it happened to someone else."
"It happened to you. You scored the title-winning goal."
Andrei stopped walking, turning to face her. "I couldn't have done any of this without you. You know that, right?"
"You absolutely could have—"
"No. I couldn't. When I was burning out, you forced me to rest. When I was doubting myself, you reminded me why I play. When I had to make impossible decisions, you helped me think clearly." He took her hands. "You're not just my girlfriend, Elena. You're my partner. In everything."
Tears glistened in her eyes. "Don't make me cry. I'm supposed to be the tough journalist."
"Even tough journalists are allowed to feel things."
They kissed under the stars, two young people who'd found something real in the midst of chaos.
"What happens now?" Elena asked when they finally pulled apart.
"Now? Now the big clubs come. With serious offers this time."
"And?"
"And we decide together. Like I promised."
They walked back to her apartment hand in hand, the future uncertain but not frightening. Whatever came next, they would face it together.
Season Achievement: Liga 1 Title (virtually secured)
Personal Statistics Final:
Goals: 14
Assists: 11
Average Rating: 7.6
Overall Rating: 74.9/99
Growth: +8.9 points in one season
Status: Elite Romanian player
Transfer Value: €8-12 million (estimated)
The beautiful game had tested Andrei Luca with everything—pressure, heartbreak, impossible decisions, physical exhaustion, mental anguish.
And he'd passed every test.
One match remained. Then decisions about the future. Then the next chapter of a journey that was only beginning.
But tonight, he had this: a title won, a woman he loved, and the knowledge that he'd made something of himself.
His father would be proud.