The day of the match arrived.
The sun over Munich was crisp, the air electric —as if the city itself knew something special was about to happen.
Mateo woke up early, long before his alarm rang.
He sat up in bed, staring at the morning light filtering through his curtains.
Today wasn't just a friendly.
It wasn't just another game.
It was a statement.
A chance to prove — to himself, to his coaches, to the world —that he belonged among the best.
After a light breakfast and final team preparations at Säbener Straße,the squad boarded the bus heading to the Allianz Arena.
Mateo sat by the window, headphones on, a soft playlist running.
His mind replayed every lesson, every word of encouragement, every grueling training session that had brought him here.
Around him, the veterans joked and laughed quietly, but there was an underlying tension in the air.
Everyone knew:
Barcelona was never just another opponent.
Even in a friendly, reputations could be built — or broken.
As they arrived at the stadium, the great white panels of the Allianz Arena lit up before them like a monument to ambition.
Mateo's heart hammered against his ribs.
"You're ready," he whispered to himself.
"You've earned this."
Inside the locker room, everything was meticulously prepared.
Jerseys hung crisp and fresh.Boots lined up in perfect order.
Mateo found his spot:
#30 — González.
He ran his hand over the jersey, feeling its weight, its meaning.
Then Coach Vincent Kompany gathered them all together.
He stood in front of a tactical board where the formation was already laid out.
The players crowded around, silent, focused.
Kompany spoke, his voice calm but firm.
"Tonight is not just about skill," he said."It's about spirit."
"Respect the badge you wear on your chest."
"Respect the player next to you."
"Respect the hours you bled to reach this room."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"Play without fear.You belong here.Every single one of you."
His eyes moved slowly around the room, landing for a heartbeat longer on Mateo.
He turned to the board.
"This is tonight's starting eleven," Kompany said.
Starting Line-up:
Goalkeeper: Sven Ulreich
Defenders: Mazraoui (RB), Upamecano (CB), Kim Min-jae (CB), Davies (LB)
Midfielders: Kimmich (CDM), Musiala (CM), Goretzka (CM)
Forwards: Sané (LW), Mateo González (RW), Tel (ST)
Mateo stared at his name, his throat tightening slightly.
Starting.Right Wing.
The trust was real.
The opportunity was real.
Kompany continued:
"Mateo — stretch the field wide.Challenge their fullback.Use your pace, your creativity."
"Musiala, feed the ball early.Kimmich, support the buildup."
"Everyone — work. Talk. Press."
His voice dropped slightly.
"And when the moment comes — don't hesitate."
"Take it."
The team clapped their hands together in a final show of unity before dispersing to gear up.
Mateo sat down heavily on the bench, tying his boots slowly, methodically.
His mind repeated the plan.
Stretch wide.Exploit space.Attack without fear.
Warm-ups passed like a dream.
The stadium roared louder and louder as kickoff approached.
From the corner of his eye, Mateo spotted the Barcelona players warming up:
Pedri gliding across the grass like it was a ballroom floor.
Gavi barking orders, fearless as always.
Fermín López taking aggressive shots at goal.
Ansu Fati flashing bursts of speed down the wing.
And Lamine Yamal — only a year younger than Mateo, but already a sensation — moving with reckless, dazzling confidence.
"This is it," Mateo thought, tightening his fists.
"This is the arena where dreams are made."
In the tunnel, Bayern and Barcelona lined up.
The noise of the crowd vibrated in Mateo's chest.
He stood among warriors now —Neuer giving instructions to Ulreich,Kimmich fixing his captain's armband,Musiala bouncing lightly on his feet.
And across the line —those who would test him, push him, challenge him.
The referee checked his watch.
Blew the whistle.
The stadium roared into life.
Tonight, Mateo González would step into battle —not as a boy chasing a dream,but as a man ready to fight for it.