The referee's whistle cut through the thick, electric air —and the second half began.
Immediately, the intensity skyrocketed.
Barcelona's first-team stars wasted no time imposing their rhythm.
Lewandowski dropped deep to link passes.Gavi pressed harder, sharper.Pedri floated between lines like a ghost, dictating the flow.And Lamine Yamal?He seemed even hungrier now,eager to prove he could shine even with giants around him.
But Bayern wasn't backing down.
Harry Kane planted himself as the spearhead,a constant target man with unrivaled presence.
Kimmich organized the midfield like a general.Musiala danced around defenders with impossible grace.
And Mateo?
Mateo stayed wide,hugging the touchline,waiting for his chance.
It wasn't easy.
The tempo was brutal.
The precision required was microscopic.
A bad first touch —a second's hesitation —and you were swallowed whole.
But Mateo adapted.
Every pass.Every sprint.Every duel.
He learned, adjusted, grew.
In the 50th minute, Barcelona crafted a slick attacking move.
Pedri threaded a pass through Bayern's defense.
Lewandowski timed his run perfectly.
One-on-one with Ulreich.
The stadium held its breath.
Lewandowski shot — low, powerful —but Ulreich, with cat-like reflexes,threw out a leg and saved it.
The crowd erupted in relief.
Immediately, Bayern countered.
Kimmich found Mateo streaking down the right flank with a brilliant cross-field ball.
Mateo controlled it in full sprint.
The Barcelona left-back scrambled to close him down,but Mateo was too fast, too fluid.
A quick stepover.
A push past the defender.
Now he was free down the wing.
He glanced inside.
Harry Kane was making a devastating diagonal run toward the penalty spot.
Musiala ghosted toward the edge of the box.
Goretzka barreled forward like a freight train.
Mateo weighed his options in a heartbeat.
Then whipped in a wicked low cross across the face of goal.
Kane anticipated it perfectly.
He lunged forward —a deft touch with the inside of his boot.
The ball flew toward the bottom corner...
Saved!Barcelona's goalkeeper managed to get fingertips to it, deflecting it wide.
A corner for Bayern.
The crowd roared in appreciation.
Even without a goal,the move was beautiful.
And Mateo's fingerprints were all over it.
As he jogged to take his position for the corner,he caught sight of Kompany on the sideline.
The coach gave a small nod.
Approval.
Pride.
But there was no time to bask in it.
The battle raged on.
Lewandowski wasn't finished.
Neither was Kane.
Neither was Lamine Yamal.
And certainly, neither was Mateo González.
The game had evolved beyond just Bayern vs Barcelona.
It was now a collision of generations.
Youth and legends.
Past, present, and future crashing into each other on sacred ground.