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***
The chill of a mid-January evening settled over the King Power Stadium as Manchester City arrived in Leicester. The floodlights were already humming, casting long shadows across the pitch as fans poured into the stands.
Despite the freezing temperature, the energy in the air was tense and expectant.
Inside the away dressing room, the mood was focused but calm. The players, dressed in their light blue warmup gear, sat quietly as Manuel Pellegrini stood in front of the whiteboard, marker in hand.
"Listen carefully," Pellegrini began, his voice steady. "Leicester are not a team you can fall asleep against. They don't care how much possession we have. They'll wait. One mistake, and Vardy's already behind you. One pass, and Mahrez is cutting in."
The board displayed the starting XI:
Man City (4-2-3-1):
Hart-Zabaleta – Kompany – Hummels – KolarovSilva, De Bruyne -Salah – Adriano– Hazard-Agüero
"You all know their shape," Pellegrini continued. "4-4-2 in name, but it's really a 4-4-1-1 when Mahrez drifts inside. Don't let him isolate our fullbacks. Kompany, Hummels—tight line. Zaba, Kolarov—no lazy passes. Keep it simple."
As he spoke, players exchanged glances. Kompany sat upright, nodding occasionally, already rehearsing defensive lines in his head. Agüero was adjusting his shin pads, eyes focused. Hazard leaned back, arms crossed, occasionally glancing toward Silva, who sat beside him scribbling something into a small notebook.
Pellegrini turned to the attackers.
"Sergio, don't drop too deep. You'll find space behind their back line, especially if Wes Morgan steps out too early. Eden, Mo—switch flanks when needed. Keep their fullbacks guessing. And Adriano… just do what you always do."
Light chuckles rippled around the room at the understated compliment. Adriano smiled faintly but said nothing.
As the team stood to begin warmups, Adriano approached Salah by the door.
"Don't wait too long to cut in," he said. "Schmeichel's aggressive off his line. You beat him before he's set; he's not saving it."
Salah nodded. "Noted bro. I'll test him early."
They bumped fists before stepping into the corridor.
Out on the pitch, the City players emerged to the sound of jeers from the Leicester supporters and applause from the away section tucked in the corner. Claudio Ranieri stood near the touchline, arms folded, expression unreadable. His team had caused trouble this season and were becoming the league's dark horses.
Leicester (4-4-2):
Schmeichel-Simpson – Morgan – Huth – KoncheskyMahrez – Drinkwater – King – Albrighton- Kramarić– Vardy
From kickoff, it was clear this would be no easy ride.
Martin Tyler: "And we're underway here at the King Power. Manchester City, riding high after their 3–0 win over Everton, now face a very different kind of opponent—fast, compact, and lethal on the counter."
Alan Smith: "Ranieri's got this side well-drilled. Mahrez and Vardy have been giving defenders nightmares all season. City will need to be patient here."
City tried to establish rhythm early, with Silva and De Bruyne seeing plenty of the ball, but Leicester held firm. Every City pass into the final third was met with a swarm of blue shirts. Albrighton, relentless as ever, was closing down Silva like a shadow.
City had started with their usual dominance in possession, passing confidently through midfield as De Bruyne dictated the rhythm. Pellegrini had instructed calm but precise buildup, keeping their shape tight to avoid Leicester's notorious counters. But it only took one lapse.
11th minute. One errant pass from Kolarov in the final third was all Leicester needed. Danny Drinkwater intercepted and immediately shifted the ball to Mahrez, who was already gliding forward in space.
Alan Smith (commentary): "That's what Leicester want—just one loose touch and they're off."
Mahrez looked up once and threaded a perfect ball through the half-space between Kompany and Hummels. Vardy was already sprinting. The City defenders had no chance of catching him.
Martin Tyler: "Vardy's in behind… this is danger!"
Vardy took one touch to set himself, then calmly placed the ball low and across Joe Hart's body, the ball kissing the far post before nestling into the back of the net.
Martin Tyler: "Goal for Leicester! Jamie Vardy with a textbook finish—1-0! Mahrez with the assist, and City are caught cold!"
The King Power exploded in noise. Vardy pumped his fist and sprinted toward the corner flag, roaring with the home fans. Mahrez followed, grinning and pointing at him. Even Ranieri broke into a small clap on the touchline.
In City's half, Kompany shouted back toward the midfield, "We can't give them that space! Stay alert!"
Adriano clapped his hands. "Heads up, lads! It's just the early minutes."
City weren't rattled. The players reorganized quickly, sticking to Pellegrini's plan. From the technical area, He could be heard calling to Hazard: "Tighter on their right, keep pulling them inside."
De Bruyne stepped deeper to control the buildup. Salah began drifting inside more, trying to overload Leicester's compact midfield line. Aguero remained mobile, dragging defenders out of shape.
25th minute. De Bruyne floated a ball over to Hazard, who took it down and whipped a low shot toward the near post. Schmeichel reacted fast, diving low to push it wide. Adriano applauded from the edge of the box.
De Bruyne (mutters): "One more pass next time…"
Alan Smith (commentary): "City are responding well—good tempo, good pressure. But Schmeichel is standing tall. Great display so far."
Finally, in the 34th minute, the breakthrough came.
It started quietly. Kolarov, positioned deep on the left, rolled a long ball to Adriano near the halfway line.
"Go at him!" Kolarov shouted.
Adriano turned, scanned briefly, and drove forward. Conchesky squared up to him, but Adriano feinted left, shifted right, and slipped past him. The home crowd grew tense as he surged down the channel.
One touch to push it forward. Then another shimmy—he glided between Danny Simpson and Robert Huth like water slipping through cracks.
Inside the box now, with Schmeichel closing the angle, Adriano took a final touch and rolled the ball low across goal with his weaker foot—far post, clinical.
Martin Tyler: "Adriano—still going—still Adriano... OH WHAT A FINISH! That is world-class! That is just an absolute solo effort to rip through Leicester's defense. It's 1-1 at the King Power!"
GOAL ANNOUNCER: "GOAL FOR MANCHESTER CITY—NUMBER 10, ADRIANOOOOO!"
The City away end erupted, their cheers rising above the stunned Leicester faithful. Adriano jogged to the touchline, arms stretched wide. He looked up briefly, then threw an imaginary crown from his head towards the travelling supporters. The crowd went wild. Th away fans sang their new tune once more
"He glides through the field
Like a floating dream
Adriano Riveiro
He's our King!"
Hazard was the first to reach him. "That run—madness!" he shouted, laughing as he wrapped an arm around Adriano's shoulders.
Kolarov jogged up and gave him a strong clap on the back. "Told you to go at him. Look what happened."
Kompany, even from center-back, made the trip upfield to high-five him. "That's the difference, mate. Keep that going."
Even De Bruyne offered a rare smile, tapping his fingers together and mouthing, "Pure magic, bro."
Alan Smith: "It's the kind of goal that doesn't just equalize—it lifts a team. And City now have wind in their sails."
City continued to push, controlling the midfield and moving Leicester side to side, testing for weaknesses. But the home side held firm.
As the halftime whistle blew, Pellegrini clapped slowly on the sidelines, satisfied with the response.
Martin Tyler: "We go into the break all square—1-1. Leicester landed the first blow, but Adriano's brilliance has brought City right back into it."
In the tunnel, Adriano bumped fists with Kompany, then offered a quick word to Hazard. "Second half—get tight on Fuchs. He's tired already."
Hazard nodded. "We'll break them. Just need one more."
The mood in the dressing room wasn't overconfident, but it was focused. They knew Leicester could strike again—but now, City had found their rhythm.
***
The second half kicked off with Manchester City determined to break the deadlock. Pellegrini stood near the edge of his technical area, arms folded, deep in thought. After ten minutes of probing without reward, he turned to his bench.
"Harry, you're on," he said simply.
Sergio Aguero, visibly frustrated after being tightly marked all game, jogged off and slapped Kane's hand. "They're leaving no space. You'll need to bully them a bit," he muttered.
Kane nodded. "Let me rough them up a little."
55th minute. Kane came on, and the shift was immediate. City's shape adjusted slightly—Kane provided a clear target in the middle, allowing Adriano and Salah more room to operate on the flanks.
Leicester, sensing the aerial threat, began to drop deeper. But it didn't help.
70th minute. The move began when Milner intercepted a loose pass from Mahrez and quickly shifted it to Adriano near the halfway line.
"Drive forward man!" De Bruyne called, urging him forward.
Adriano nodded and did exactly that. With a graceful touch, he drifted wide to the left, his head constantly scanning. Danny Simpson moved to close him down, but Adriano dipped his shoulder and skipped past him, dragging two more defenders with him toward the touchline.
Alan Smith (commentary): "Look at that from Adriano—pulling Leicester's shape apart again…"
Just as it looked like he was going to cut inside, Adriano whipped a first-time cross into the box with his left foot. The ball curled wickedly toward the penalty spot.
Harry Kane timed his run perfectly. He rose above Wes Morgan and Huth, his leap powerful and clean, and hammered a header down and toward the bottom-right corner.
Schmeichel stretched—but too late.
Martin Tyler: "Kane! What a header! Into the corner—GOAL FOR CITY! It's 2-1 for them at King Power Stadium!"
GOAL ANNOUNCER: "MANCHESTER CITY GOAL—NUMBER 18, HARRY KANE!"
The away section erupted again, a sea of arms and scarves. Kane turned to them, pumping a clenched fist before slapping his badge. Adriano came sprinting toward him, grinning.
"That's what I'm talking about man!" Adriano shouted, slapping Kane's chest.
Kane, catching his breath, replied, "That ball, mate. Could've had tea before it landed on my head."
Hazard arrived and ruffled Kane's hair. "That's the ugly stuff we needed. Well done."
Silva added from the side, "You just came on and scored! Way to go wonder boy!"
Martin Tyler: "A substitution that pays immediate dividends. Adriano the provider, and Kane with a striker's goal. City lead 2-1!"
City didn't sit back. They kept the ball smartly, passing through Leicester's midfield whenever possible. Touré and Silva slowed the tempo, playing simple triangles with the fullbacks to frustrate their hosts.
Leicester, however, weren't done. Ranieri made attacking changes—sending on Ulloa to partner Vardy, and pushing Mahrez into more central positions.
87th minute. Mahrez launched a long throw into the box. Vardy, always alert, broke away from Mangala who replaced a tired Hummels before, and flicked a header toward the far post. The ball zipped just inches wide.
Alan Smith: "City were nearly punished there. Vardy's movement again—so dangerous."
From the back, Kompany roared, "Stay switched on! Nothing silly!"
Joe Hart clapped and pointed. "Next one's mine! Stay tight!"
The closing minutes were tense. Leicester threw everything forward. Even Schmeichel stood near the halfway line for one late free-kick. But City defended with discipline, Kompany and Mangala clearing every cross with authority.
94th minute. The final whistle blew.
Martin Tyler: "And that's it! A hard-earned 2-1 win for Manchester City at the King Power!"
The City bench rose as one. Pellegrini turned to his staff and gave a single, satisfied nod. The players on the pitch embraced, exhausted but beaming.
Kane hugged Kompany, who patted him on the back. "Made the difference, mate."
Adriano and De Bruyne walked toward the away stand, applauding the travelling supporters. Hazard tossed his shirt into the crowd.
Alan Smith: "They had to work for it, but you can see why City are top of the table. They didn't panic, adjusted when needed, and found the breakthrough."
Inside the tunnel, Pellegrini clapped slowly as the players walked in. "That's the attitude we need. Composed. Creative. And clinical when it matters."
The players took their seats, catching their breath. Milner passed bottles of water around. Kane sat down next to Adriano and muttered, "Could use another cross like that next week too."
Adriano smirked. "Only if you keep heading them like that."
As they left the stadium to the echo of singing fans outside, the message was clear: City had come from behind again—and they weren't letting go of the title race anytime soon. But the next challenge would be far difficult, as they faced Bayern away for the last match of Champions League group stage.
***
Two days after the grinding 2–1 win over Leicester, Manchester City's squad was back in motion—this time, 35,000 feet in the air. The team chartered flight hummed quietly above the clouds as players reclined, some listening to music, others half-dozing.
While the match against Bayern had no stakes in terms of qualification — both teams were already through to the knockout stages — there was still something to play for. Momentum. Reputation. And for Adriano, it was about presence. His first time in Germany as a City player. His first match wearing his newly launched custom boots. Adriano sat upright in his seat, a large Nike-branded box resting carefully on his lap like a newborn.
The moment the team boarded the charter flight, the teasing began.
"Alright, mate, are you gonna sleep with them too?" Milner asked, pointing to the slim Nike box Adriano had tucked under his arm like it contained the Holy Grail.
"They're not for sleeping," Adriano replied coolly, not looking up from his phone. "They're for making Neuer cry."
Kane, sitting across the aisle with his tablet, leaned over. "Mate, are you gonna feed those boots or just stare them into life?"
Adriano grinned. "You wouldn't understand. These aren't just boots."
"Oh no," Milner groaned from a row back. "Here we go again."
"They're a statement of my journey and growth," Adriano declared, cracking open the box. Inside gleamed his new custom AR10 Nike boots—black with gold accents, his initials stitched in regal font near the heel, and the faint outline of a crown above the laces.
Aguero chuckled two rows back. "Big words. You better do something worth posting, or Nike's gonna ghost you."
Zabaleta leaned into the aisle and deadpanned, "If you trip over your own boots, I'm putting that clip on the team group chat before halftime."
Hazard leaned over Kane's shoulder. "Is it just me, or do these look like something you summon lightning with?"
"Probably do," Zabaleta muttered from his crossword. "If he scores a hat-trick, I'm asking for a pair."
Adriano just smirked. He didn't need to explain it. The black-and-gold boots weren't just a product — they were proof. A mark of how far he'd come since his debut with Malaga last season. When he was just a nobody, trying find the chance to make his mark. Now, even rival fans would begrudgingly called his nickname, "King Adriano" He took a quick photo holding them in the aisle and uploaded it with the caption: Can't wait to try these babies out."
The plane touched down in Munich to freezing weather, but the buzz around City was anything but cold. Local media swarmed the hotel, and fans lined up outside just to catch a glimpse of Adriano, Hazard, or Aguero. Social media, meanwhile, was ablaze.
Adriano's Instagram post—him holding the boots under the caption "Can't wait to try these babies out."—had nearly 800,000 likes in a few hours.
Top comments:
"AR10 about to ruin Bayern's night 🔥"
"If you don't score in those, I'm returning my replica."
"Those boots belong in a museum. Or the back of the net."
On twitter, it was also exploding.
@CityFaithful_85: "Those boots better cause damage."@MiaSanMiaFan: "You're not scoring on Neuer with golden shoes. This ain't a fashion show."@NikeFootball: "Let's see what AR10 has planned. 👑⚽"
Even Bayern fans joined in the hype. One viral tweet read: "Adriano comes to Munich with royal boots? Cool. Let's see if he makes it out with his crown."
***
Team Hotel, Munich – Night before match
After a quick dinner and light tactical session, the players gathered in the meeting room. Pellegrini stood in front of the projector screen with a remote in hand.
"We've already qualified," he began plainly. "But they don't care. And neither do we. We treat this like any other game. Control possession. Use your shape. Be disciplined when we lose the ball."
He clicked the screen. A graphic of Bayern's formation appeared.
"Alonso and Schweinsteiger will try to slow the tempo. Ribéry and Robben will keep stretching us wide. You know the drill."
He turned to Silva and De Bruyne.
"You two — keep forcing them sideways. Don't let Alonso play those vertical passes. Hazard, Salah — support your fullbacks. This team will look for gaps."
Then he looked toward Adriano.
"You're free to float between the lines. Draw them out, shift their shape. If you see a gap, take it."
Adriano gave a small nod.
Kompany stood from his seat. "Let's keep the tempo high. We're not here to play safe. We play our football."
"Exactly," Pellegrini said. "Don't let them dictate."
Before the match, In the away dressing room at the Allianz Arena, there was a steady hum of conversation. The staff prepped boots and warm gear. Massage tables were lined up along the back wall. Shirts hung in precise order along each locker: navy kits with white accents, names and numbers bold under the bright lighting.
Adriano's boots had their own moment. Still gleaming. Hazard picked one up like it was fragile.
"I'm afraid to touch this," he joked. "If I wear it, I might actually score."
Salah, adjusting his tape beside him, laughed. "You'd miss the empty net trying to look too good."
Aguero walked in from the tunnel, still stretching his legs. "He only scores tap-ins now. Don't waste the boots on him."
Adriano finally spoke: "All of you will want a pair after tonight."
"Sure," Kompany muttered, tying his laces. "If you actually pass once in a while."
The room erupted in laughter.
The tension? Gone.
But the focus? Laser sharp. As the clock ticked closer to kickoff, players settled into their routines. Silva sat cross-legged doing breathing exercises. De Bruyne had his headphones in, nodding silently. Pellegrini and assistant coach Rubén Cousillas were at the whiteboard, finalising press triggers and fallback zones. Kolarov and Zabaleta stood near the tunnel exit, already mentally plotting the opening five minutes.
Adriano sat quietly, lacing up the AR10 boots with methodical precision. He didn't speak this time. Just watched the studs click into place, one by one.
There wasn't a trophy on the line. But that didn't mean this didn't matter.
Tonight was about sending a message — to Bayern, to fans, to the world.
Matchday. Allianz Arena.
Under the floodlights of the immense, glowing red dome, the atmosphere was electric. Despite both sides already progressing to the knockout stages, the sold-out crowd buzzed with anticipation. This wasn't about advancement. This was a clash of European titans. And in Adriano's mind, it was his stage.
Inside the tunnel, the mood was lighter than usual.
Aguero adjusted his socks and leaned in. "You know if you mess up in those boots, Nike's gonna repo them mid-match."
Adriano chuckled. "If I score, they're going to build me a throne."
Salah, lacing up beside him, smirked. "Just don't trip over that throne while tracking back."
As the teams marched out, the traveling City fans held up a banner: "ALL HAIL AR10" in bold gold font. Adriano spotted it and smiled subtly, tapping his chest.
***
As the match kicked off beneath the floodlights of the Allianz Arena, the atmosphere was electric. A sea of red-and-white scarves waved to the rhythm of Bayern chants, and the familiar hum of Champions League anticipation buzzed through the stadium.
City lined up with confidence, but Bayern didn't need a fast start — they leaned on control. From the very first minute, their approach was clear: stretch City's shape, wear them down mentally, then punish the lapse.
Alonso and Schweinsteiger acted like dual conductors in midfield, stringing together short, rhythmic passes. They weren't hunting for highlight reels — just control. Schweinsteiger to Alonso, Alonso to Alaba, then back again. Ribéry hugged the touchline, glued to Kolarov, forcing the Serbian fullback to stay honest. Robben drifted inside, as if waiting for the right moment to strike.
By the tenth minute, City's press began to show slight gaps. Silva gestured for Adriano to drop deeper; Kompany clapped his hands and shouted, "Line up! Don't get dragged!"
But Bayern were already calculating their next move.
In the 17th minute, the first dent came. Robben, always a menace, cut inside from the right and unleashed a low cross that deflected off Kolarov's boot and spun out for a corner.
Adriano jogged back toward the box, exchanging a quick look with Hart.
"You got the back post?" Adriano asked.
Hart nodded. "Just get rid if it drops."
Schweinsteiger placed the ball on the arc with clinical precision. He took two steps back, eyes scanning movement inside the box. City marked man-to-man, Kompany calling out Lewandowski's position.
"Stay tight," he barked to Hummels. "He'll cut inside near post."
But Lewandowski had already timed his move perfectly.
As Schweinsteiger swung in a wicked, right-footed delivery toward the near post, Lewandowski darted ahead of Kompany's shoulder, leapt into the air with perfect timing, and smashed a glancing header toward the top corner.
GOAL ANNOUNCER: "GOAL FOR BAYERN MUNICH! ROBERT LEWANDOWSKI! 1–0 AT THE ALLIANZ ARENA!"
Martin Tyler: "That's world-class movement from Lewandowski. He's peeled off Kompany, attacked the space, and made that header look effortless."
The Allianz erupted. Flags waved in waves. The home fans exploded into chants of "Super Bayern! Super Bayern!" as Lewandowski jogged toward the corner flag, arms outstretched, expression stoic but focused.
Ribéry tackled him in celebration. Alaba leapt onto his back. Even Neuer sprinted halfway to the halfway line with a grin on his face.
On the other end, Kompany exhaled through clenched teeth.
"Damn it," he muttered, bending down to adjust his socks. "He sold me on that fake run."
Hummels gave a nod. "Perfect ball. You couldn't see it coming."
Hart slapped his gloves together in frustration, then turned to reset his defense. "Heads up! Still a long game."
Adriano gathered the ball from the net and jogged back to midfield, pausing to glance toward the Bayern fans taunting from the stands. He wasn't rattled — he looked hungry.
"Let's wake up," he said sharply to De Bruyne. "Too much respect."
City didn't crumble. If anything, the goal sparked urgency. Pellegrini stepped to the touchline and motioned with his hand — pushing the back line higher. Zabaleta responded immediately, overlapping more aggressively down the right. Silva tucked in closer to dictate play, and De Bruyne dropped deeper to collect and drive.
A few minutes later, Adriano took a pass from Silva in the left channel, let the ball run across his body, and nutmegged Lahm, drawing gasps even from neutral fans. But his cross was deflected and cleared by Boateng.
Hazard clapped in appreciation from the far side. "That's it, that's the rhythm."
Salah jogged over during a stoppage. "Start drifting central, yeah? Pull Dante with you. I'll take Alaba wide."
Adriano gave a nod. "Make space for the switch. I'll find you."
City were beginning to respond — not with panic, but with possession and purpose. By the 30-minute mark, Bayern weren't cruising anymore.
But still, the scoreboard read 1–0.
The 30th minute arrived like a silent storm. City had struggled to crack Bayern's machine-like midfield, their passing triangles snuffing out attacks before they could bloom. But then — in a moment that would be replayed endlessly in highlight reels and boot ads — everything changed.
It began innocently enough.
Adriano received a pass from De Bruyne just past the halfway line, tight to the left channel. No runners ahead. No quick outlet wide. Five Bayern shirts were already closing in, forming a cage.
Alan Smith (live): "He's going alone here. Dangerous ground, this."
But Adriano didn't hesitate. He shifted his weight, dipped his left shoulder, and slinked past Alonso like he wasn't there.
"Too easy," Hazard muttered from the opposite flank, eyes lighting up.
Schweinsteiger stepped up to cut him off — experience etched into every movement — but Adriano rolled his foot across the ball with a subtle drag-back, flicked it through the German's legs, and burst forward with a sudden acceleration that left gasps in his wake.
"Jesus," Kompany breathed from the back. "He's gone."
Now it was chaos. Dante and Boateng were forced into an emergency squeeze as Adriano bore down diagonally toward the edge of the box, slicing through lines like a scalpel.
Hazard yelled from the wing, "Chip it! I'm in!"
But Adriano had something else in mind.
Just outside the penalty arc, as Boateng lunged and Dante stepped up to close the space — it happened.
He popped the ball up with his heel — a rainbow flick — arcing it up and over both centre-backs in one breathtaking, defiant motion.
The crowd collectively gasped.
Martin Tyler: "Oh my word... he's flipped it over them both. That is absurd."
The ball dropped toward the six-yard box. Neuer, sensing calamity, charged off his line.
But Adriano didn't shoot.
He caught the ball — mid-air — with his right foot like it was a beach ball, stopping it dead at shoulder height.
And paused.
The stadium fell into silence. Even the Bayern ultras stopped chanting.
Neuer, mid-sprint, slowed in confusion. "What the hell…"
Then came the dagger. Adriano spun, a smooth 270-degree pirouette, deftly avoiding Neuer, and flicked the ball with the outside of his left boot into the now-vacant goal.
GOAL ANNOUNCER: "ADRIANO! OH, WHAT HAVE WE JUST SEEN?! IT'S 1–1 AT THE ALLIANZ!"
The Allianz Arena detonated — a mix of stunned awe and reluctant applause. You could hear gasps, expletives, camera shutters, and one fan simply yell, "Was zum Teufel?!"
Martin Tyler: "You cannot write this. That is not just skill — that is arrogance, in the best possible way. Adriano has just embarrassed world-class defenders and outfoxed the best keeper on the planet. That's... genius."
Adriano winked at Neuer playfully, then rushed towards the sideline, toward the touchline, arms spread, expression calm — almost serene. At the sideline, he turned around, pointed to the back of his shirt where his name glistened above a stitched golden crown.
Phones flashed from every direction. Even some Bayern fans — scattered through the stands — clapped.
Philipp Lahm, standing near the box, shook his head and said to Neuer, "He's playing another game."
Neuer stood frozen for a second, hands on hips. "He freakin stopped time," he muttered.
On the City bench, Pellegrini allowed himself a slow clap. "That's why he wears the 10," he said quietly.
Aguero was first to reach him, sprinting half the pitch just to leap on his back.
"Bro. BRO. What was that?!" he shouted, laughing in disbelief.
Hazard caught up, pointing at the sky. "I'm converting to the Church of Adriano."
Hart came halfway up the pitch, yelling, "Someone get that on a t-shirt!"
Even Hummels, who rarely broke his stoic focus, chuckled and clapped twice. "That's filth. Pure filth."
The players crowded him, slapping his head, patting his shoulders. Adriano finally cracked a grin.
"Didn't have any options," he shrugged.
Silva smirked. "That was the most selfish masterpiece I've ever seen."
On social media, the moment exploded. Within seconds, the clip was circulating under hashtags like #CrownHim, #AdrianoMagic, and #StopItHe'sAlreadyDead. Even the Bundesliga's official account tweeted: "We're filing a complaint. That was illegal."
Back on the pitch, Bayern regrouped — but the mood had shifted. Lahm and Alonso began barking orders. Müller dropped deeper to double Adriano. Boateng pointed at Salah and Hazard, suddenly aware of the space they now had to exploit.
But City had blood in their nostrils now.
Zabaleta to Silva: "Let's press harder. They're rattled."
De Bruyne: "If they crowd Adriano, we go wide. Simple."
As the half wore on, City didn't just recover — they took control of the narrative. That goal hadn't just equalized the score. It had unbalanced Bayern's psyche. Adriano had pulled another one of the most jaw-dropping moments in Champions League group stage history — and he wasn't done yet.
By the 38th minute, Bayern were still visibly shaken by Adriano's moment of magic. But City smelled blood now — the rhythm had changed. Hazard and Salah, previously doubled and isolated, began to find room. The passes from Silva and De Bruyne grew bolder. The Allianz Arena was no longer a fortress — it felt tense, uneasy.
From the right, Salah took matters into his own hands. Alaba, usually composed, misjudged the angle and gave the Egyptian a half-yard too much. Salah didn't waste it — he ghosted past, cut inside on his stronger left foot, and drilled a low shot toward the far post.
Martin Tyler: "Salah... that's on target!"
Neuer, ever the cat, kicked out a foot in mid-dive and denied it — deflection, but not cleanly cleared.
Alan Smith: "Still alive!"
Hazard pounced. The ball bounced up at the edge of the box. One touch to settle, then a quick whip of his right boot — a trademark curling effort aimed at the top corner.
Tyler: "Hazard! Bending!"
Neuer again — this time with a full-stretch palm — clawed it wide.
Silva jogged up as Hazard turned away, grinning."You've got to hit it harder."Hazard scoffed. "Next one's going in. I'll just aim for his head next time."
The pressure was mounting — and Bayern's shape was beginning to stretch. Lahm and Alaba looked over their shoulders more frequently, and Schweinsteiger was caught yelling instructions at both centre-backs. Pep stood at the edge of his technical area, tapping his forehead with a single finger.
Then came the 44th minute .
City had recycled possession off a throw-in deep on the left. De Bruyne flicked it to Silva centrally, just 30 yards out. Bayern's line was high — Boateng was already stepping up, expecting a horizontal pass back to midfield.
But Silva, ever the playmaker, saw a different thread to pull.
Alan Smith: "Look at that vision…"
He chipped it — an elegant lob, no backlift — into the pocket of space behind Dante and Boateng. It wasn't a through ball. It was a trap.
Adriano, already on his toes, reacted instantly."NOW!" he shouted, accelerating like a sprinter out of the blocks.
Kompany, watching from midfield, called it: "He's timed it, but thats too fast David. "
Martin Tyler: Great ball from Silva, but it looks just out of reach for Adriano.
The ball flew too close to the defense. Boateng panicked and turned his hips late. Dante rushed to head the ball away .
But Adriano didn't slow. He took three long strides, each one propelling him further into the heart of the penalty area. And then he leapt — both knees up, arms wide, forehead lined with the ball's trajectory.
Tyler: "Adriano... goes for the header!"
It wasn't just a power header — it was also pure finesse. He met the ball mid-air with his forehead, redirecting it in a powerful arc to Neuer's right, who was stuck in his spot, clearly not expecting Dante to miss it.
Alan Smith: "That's inch-perfect!"
The ball dropped just beneath the bar, kissed the netting, and fell behind Neuer with poetic finality.
GOAL ANNOUNCER: "GOAL FOR MANCHESTER CITY! ADRIANO AGAIN! TWO FOR CITY — TWO FOR HIM! 2–1!"
This time it was the City fans in the away end who detonated. The small but rowdy corner erupted in noise — scarves spinning, limbs flying, blue smoke starting to drift skyward.
One fan launched his hat. Another hugged a stranger and screamed, "He's doing this to Bayern! In their house!"
Martin Tyler: "You give him a yard, he'll punish you. You give him a sliver of air — and he'll float right through it. That's a world-class header from a forward who simply cannot stop scoring."
On the pitch, Silva ran over laughing."Didn't think you'd get that one!"Adriano stood tall, kissed the golden crown stitched on his right sleeve, and replied:"You forgot I can fly."
Hazard caught up, ruffling Adriano's hair. "Fly? You teleport, mate."
Kompany jogged in, calling out to the others: "Focus! Don't let up! They'll come out swinging after this!"
Zabaleta gave Adriano a firm slap to the back of the head."Try not to embarrass them a third time before half."
Even Hart from the goal called out: "You wanna try scoring a boring one at some point?!"
As they walked back to their positions, Bayern looked stunned. Their body language was tight. Alaba and Boateng exchanged a glance. No defensive mistake, no misjudged pass — and yet they were trailing.
Pep stared ahead blankly, his arms crossed. No words. Just tension.
Tyler: "It's not just the goals. It's how he scores. Bayern are playing well, and yet... it's 2–1 to City."
Seconds later, the halftime whistle blew. The players walked off for some rest, and the tunnel buzzed with their chatter.
***
Just off the pitch, BT Sport's lead reporter, Emma Donnelly, huddled beside her cameraman in the narrow media lane near the tunnel entrance. The roar of the crowd still echoed faintly from above, muffled by concrete and distance.
She tapped her earpiece, eyes glued to her tablet.
"Make sure that second Adriano clip's queued up," she whispered urgently. "The header, the slow-mo—get the zoom on Neuer's face. That's going viral in five minutes."
The cameraman nodded, adjusting his lens. "Already trending. 'Adriano' just overtook 'RDJ' and 'Taylor Swift'."
Emma blinked. "Damn."
Back in the media centre, the internet was a wildfire.
@ElGuaje_17:
Adriano's boots have a built-in cheat code. That header? Disgusting.
@Bundesliga_Zone:
If his first goal broke the internet, the second one wrote a virus and installed it on Neuer's firewall.
@TheRealLineker:
One goal was genius. Two in one half away to Bayern? That's world-class. Adriano's not just good—he's special.
@FootyLad69:
I told my nan to watch the rainbow flick. She dropped her tea and said, "He's not real."
@BayernFanclubUSA:
Respect to Adriano. We've seen Messi and Ronaldo here... but that first half? That was something else.
Inside the City dressing room, the players filed in one by one, sweat-soaked and breathing heavily. Shirts clung to torsos. Shin pads were tossed to the floor. The sound of boots unlacing and physios unwrapping tape filled the air alongside the hum of quiet disbelief.
Adriano slumped onto the bench, chest still rising and falling. His jersey was damp, his hair sticking to his forehead, and his black-and-gold boots—now streaked with turf and scratch marks—rested loosely at his feet. A small bit of grass was wedged under the crown emblem.
Across the room, Hazard sat next to De Bruyne, towel over his shoulders. He nudged Kevin.
"Did you see that flick?" Hazard asked, still grinning like a kid who got away with a prank.
De Bruyne shook his head. "I blinked and thought the ball teleported."
Hazard turned, shouting across the room. "Adriano! What do you call that move, eh? Rainbow Royale?"
Adriano didn't look up. He gave a faint shrug. "Just needed the ball on the other side of them. Style was optional."
The room burst into a few chuckles.
Hart chimed in from the far end, still toweling sweat off his neck. "You paused mid-air, mate. What are you, a Marvel character?"
Zabaleta, stretching against the wall, added, "Bayern's defence downloaded a virus. That's the only explanation."
A ball of rolled-up tape bounced off Zaba's head — Kompany smirked, arms folded. "Alright, enough showboating analysis. Let's stay focused."
That was the cue for Pellegrini, who stepped forward from the back of the room, voice calm and measured. He glanced briefly at the tactics board behind him, then spoke directly to the group.
"Good half," he began, his voice low, steady. "But not perfect. They're going to come back faster, higher, and more aggressive."
Players looked up, listening intently.
"They won't let Adriano turn. They'll double Hazard. Alonso and Lahm will step wide. So we stay compact. No reckless pressing. When we win the ball, use the width — go early, go fast."
He let that sink in. Then, slowly, he turned his eyes toward Adriano.
The room followed his gaze.
Adriano finally looked up, expression unreadable. Mud stained his socks. One boot was untied.
"Nothing changes," Pellegrini said, locking eyes with him. "They're scared of you now. Use it. Make them panic. Make them overcommit."
There was a silence. A respectful kind of silence. No applause, no back-slaps — just teammates watching a striker with two goals in Munich, waiting to see what came next.
Adriano leaned forward. He picked up the towel slung over the bench, wiped the mud from the outside of his right boot — the one that caught the rainbow flick and cushioned the ball mid-air.
"Hey," Silva called, walking past. "You alright?"
Adriano nodded. "They left a bit of grass on my crown. Can't have that."
Silva chuckled, then added under his breath, "Whatever happens, they'll remember this night."
Hazard whistled. "Imagine scoring two away to Bayern… and still looking bored."
"I'm not bored," Adriano said, finally smirking. "I'm just not done yet."
Kompany clapped his hands once, loud and sharp. "Let's finish this. Stay sharp. They're not out of this yet."
The team nodded as one.
Boots were re-laced. Shirts changed. Massage oil snapped open. The physio crew moved quickly, and the noise returned — chatter, boots hitting tile, studs clacking against concrete as the squad got up, one by one.
As they lined up for the tunnel again, Adriano took one last look at his boots. Still a little scratched, still dirty, but gleaming just enough under the fluorescent lights.
He stood, tugged his shirt down, and walked toward the light. he had 45 more minutes to play.
Inside the tunnel, Bayern's players emerged first, faces set, focused. Neuer stood near the front, towel draped over one shoulder, still dripping from halftime hydration.
He exhaled sharply and turned to Lahm beside him. "He's quicker than he looks. That run... I thought we had him."
Lahm, always composed, rubbed at his wristband and kept his gaze down the tunnel. "And smarter than we gave him credit for. He doesn't move unless he's already seen the gap. We need to tighten the space"
Behind them, Müller chimed in under his breath, half-grinning. "If he scores a third, I'm personally unplugging the stadium lights."
From the other end, City's players lined up, calm but buzzing with quiet energy. Silva bounced on his toes. Zabaleta kept cracking his knuckles. Kompany was all business, but even he turned toward Adriano and muttered, "Another half like that, you'll need bodyguards at the airport."
Adriano just chuckled and said, " I'll use you as shield if that happens." . He adjusted the tape around his wrist, then tapped his boots twice on the concrete floor.
Hazard leaned into Salah and whispered, "If he pulls out another flick, I'm asking Nike for a royalty cut."
Salah grinned. "You'll be lucky if they don't give him his own league."