The training facility was electric. There were some scouts, families, football enthusiasts and fans from both teams. They were there to support and watch talents being displayed.
They hummed with anticipation as their voices rose with every América attack. The home team dominated from the opening whistle, keeping Tigres pinned back, struggling to find space or breathe under relentless pressure.
América wasted no time. Diego and Santi linked up immediately with a quick exchange of short passes slicing through the Tigres midfield.
In the 3rd minute, Santi spotted Ochoa making a run on the right and sent a curling cross into the box. The ball dipped toward the penalty spot, where Ochoa rose above his marker and headed it low but it was blocked.
The Tigres goalkeeper barely got his hands to it, pushing the ball away.
In the 8th minute, Solano controlled possession in midfield, dictating the tempo. He sent the ball wide to Diego, who curled a dangerous cross into the box.
This time, Ochoa darted in, outmuscling his defender and met it with his head but the ball went wide of the post.
Tigres hadn't even left their own half at this point. América was suffocating them.
14th minute, Santi received a pass from Solano near the edge of the box as a defender pressed tight against him.
With one touch, Santi flicked the ball forward, feinting to his right. The defender lunged but Santi spun the other way.
Another defender rushed in. Santi dragged the ball back, then pushed it forward between the defender's legs. Nutmegs were his signature.
The crowd exploded but he wasn't done. With another defender charging, Santi performed a La Croqueta, gliding past effortlessly before delivering a cutback pass toward Diego. But it was blocked at the last second. The Tigres defense was barely holding on.
In the 19th minute, Diego and Santi had been sharpening their link-up play all week and it showed. They exchanged two quick one-twos, breaking past Tigres' midfield.
Santi found himself with a split second of space, 25 yards out. He didn't hesitate.
With his weaker left foot, he fired a knuckleball toward the top corner. The ball swerved unpredictably in mid-air. But the Tigres keeper reacted brilliantly, leaping to punch it away at full stretch.
Santi stood there with hands on his hips, breathing heavily. That was so close.
In the 25th minute, Tigres finally tried to counterattack but it was like running into a brick wall. Because Toro and Ríos were everywhere. Every long ball was cut out and every dribble stopped in its tracks.
A minute later, a dangerous Tigres cross was headed away by Toro with authority and in the 29th Minute, a Tigres forward found himself through on goal but Ríos came sliding in with a last-second block. There was no way through.
A corner came in at the 32nd minute and Santi stepped up to take it. His delivery was pinpoint, curling into the heart of the box.
Charlie attacked the ball, rising between two defenders as his header smacked off the crossbar. The crowd gasped. So close again.
Another corner came in 3 minutes later. This time, Santi played it short to Diego, who whipped in a fast, dipping cross.
Ochoa connected at the near post, flicking it toward goal but the Tigres keeper barely punched it away. Tigres was hanging on by a thread.
7 minutes to halftime, Solano intercepted a weak pass in midfield. His head snapped up instantly, reading the play before anyone else.
He sent a perfect through ball between the center-backs.
Ochoa exploded forward for the ball, his speed leaving defenders behind.
One touch. Two touches. The keeper rushed out and Ochoa blasted it past him.
GOAL!
The stadium erupted. América finally had their reward. The scoreline read América 1-0 Tigres.
Into the final moments before halftime, 41st Minute: Santi dribbled through two defenders and took a shot but it was inches wide.
43rd Minute: Tigres finally managed a shot on goal, forcing Alejandro Ramirez into a diving save.
45th Minute: Diego was fouled near the box. Santi took the free kick but sent it just over the crossbar.
A few seconds later, the ref blew his whistle for halftime.
The halftime whistle echoed through the turf and the teams marched toward the tunnel. América had been dominant but everyone knew a one-goal lead wasn't enough.
As soon as the players entered the locker room, they could still hear the crowd outside, chanting, drumming and singing. The energy was still alive.
The door shut behind them but the intensity didn't drop. Players toweled off sweat, some breathing heavily and others pacing with adrenaline, still coursing through their veins.
Charlie sat down, frustrated. He had come so close. He knew he was capable of scoring against Tigres but he just had to finish.
Solano, always the leader, clapped his hands loudly. "Heads up! We're controlling this game. Stay focused."
Herrera walked in. The room went silent. The coach scanned the team, his presence commanding. He could feel the hunger in them but also the frustration.
"Look at them," Herrera said, voice calm but firm. "They can't breathe. We've shut them down. They've had ONE shot. One."
He let that sink in. The players nodded, reassured.
"But we're not done." He turned to Charlie.
"Charlie." Charlie looked up, jaw clenched.
"You're trying too hard."
Charlie exhaled, dropping his head slightly. He knew it.
"You'll get your goal," Herrera continued. "Trust the game. Trust your movement. Let the goal come to you."
Charlie nodded. His teammates patted his shoulder. They had his back. Herrera turned to the rest of the team.
"They're going to come out desperate. They're going to foul. They're going to press. Expect it." He looked at Santi and Diego.
"You two keep moving the ball. Don't let them touch you. Make them chase shadows."
To Solano, Toro, and Ríos: "They'll start sending bodies forward. Kill the counterattacks before they start." The team was locked in, nodding in unison. They were ready.
If the América locker room was focused, the Tigres locker room was chaos. The players sat in frustration, some shaking their heads and others wiping sweat and breathing heavily. They knew it, they were getting outplayed.
The coach walked in. Slamming his fist against a locker.
"They are TOYING with us!" he roared. His voice boomed through the room. He paced, his face red, he was so furious.
"They're moving the ball like we're not part of the game."
The midfielders looked at each other. They knew. Solano and Diego were running the show.
The coach turned toward them.
"I don't care if you have to foul them but shut them down. Make them feel it." The midfielders nodded. They were ready to get physical.
He turned to the defenders. "Santi. He's making a joke out of you." His voice was ice cold. "You think he's fast? You think he's tricky? Then hit him."
"Don't let him run at you. Body him. Kick him if you have to. But I don't want to see him dribbling through again." The defenders gritted their teeth. This was going to get rough.
Then, the coach turned to his forwards.
"And you two," he glared. "Have you even touched the ball?" No one spoke.
"I want shots. I want chaos in their box. Force mistakes. Do something!"
The locker room was boiling. They were angry that they had been humiliated. Now, they were about to unleash it all.
Both teams emerged from the tunnel. América looked calm, sharp and confident.
Tigres? They looked different now. More aggressive. Their body language was tense.
Charlie exhaled, his mind focused on one thing, his goal. Santi rolled his shoulders, ready for the fight.
The referee blew the whistle. The second half began with intense pressure from both sides.