The sun barely peeks over the horizon as the Ajax hotel hums with quiet energy. Femi wakes up before the alarm blares, his body already feeling the weight of what lies ahead. Today isn't just any match—today, Ajax faces Feyenoord in the quarterfinals, and everything they've worked for up to this point comes down to this. The pressure hangs heavy in the air as Femi stares at the ceiling of his room, the gravity of the situation hitting him full force.
He rolls out of bed, his heart racing as he moves toward the mirror. He examines his reflection, his thoughts swirling. He's been working tirelessly for moments like these, and now, it's time to prove himself. The jitters are still there, but the fire within him burns brighter than ever. "Today is the day," he tells himself. "Everything I've worked for, everything Lars has taught me, it all comes down to this match. Feyenoord. The rivalry. The pressure. I'm ready."
Femi heads to the shower to clear his head, the cool water a welcome contrast to the growing tension. Afterward, he suits up in his Ajax kit, the fabric a reminder of everything he's striving for. He gathers himself and heads downstairs to meet the rest of the team.
The Ajax bus rolls through the city streets, the excitement palpable in the air. Fans line the sidewalks, chanting songs, waving flags, and cheering on their team. The noise builds as the bus approaches the stadium, the energy outside reflecting the anxiety and anticipation of the players inside. Femi can hear the roars of both Ajax supporters and Feyenoord's, mixing into a cacophony of rivalry. His mind races as the magnitude of the match settles in—the stakes couldn't be higher.
As the bus pulls into the stadium parking lot, Femi takes one last breath, steadying himself for what's to come. The players file into the locker room, the usual pre-match chatter replaced by focused silence. Femi finds his spot at his locker, his fingers absently tracing the laces of his boots as he mentally prepares for the battle ahead.
In the locker room, the noise grows as the players begin to get dressed. Femi remains focused, blocking out the distractions around him. His thoughts drift to the lessons Lars has imparted on him over the past weeks—how to stay calm, how to trust his instincts, how to anticipate the play. This is his chance to show not only the coaches but himself that he belongs at this level.
Coach Bakker's voice breaks through his thoughts, gathering the team for a final huddle before the match. "Today isn't just about football," Bakker says, his eyes scanning each player in turn. "It's about proving who we are. Ajax doesn't back down, no matter the challenge. We've got the ability to beat them, but we have to play as a team. Trust each other, stick to the plan, and don't let the pressure overwhelm you."
Femi's eyes meet the coach's. Bakker nods at him, a silent understanding passing between them. "You know what's at stake. Go out there and make us proud."
The team claps, rallying around Bakker's words. Femi feels the fire ignite within him. This is it. This is what he's been training for.
On the other side, Feyenoord's preparations are equally intense. Max van Dijk is already in the locker room, stretching and mentally preparing for the game ahead. Their coach, Mark de Wit, speaks with intensity to his players, focusing on the importance of the match. But Max's mind is elsewhere. He knows this game will be his defining moment—his chance to prove that Feyenoord is the better team, that they can take down Ajax and advance to the semifinals.
Max doesn't speak much. He doesn't need to. His eyes are sharp, his focus unwavering as he glances at his teammates, especially Jordy de Graaf and Mats Janssen. The three of them have been through countless battles together, and today, they're ready to lead Feyenoord to victory.
Max's thoughts turn to Femi Adeleye, the young Ajax full-back. He's quick, he's talented, but Max sees a weakness—a lack of experience. "Femi, you're fast," he thinks to himself. "But you're still too green. I'll rattle you. I'll make you second-guess yourself. I'll make sure you know who's boss."
His gaze hardens as he looks around at Jordy and Mats. "We've got this," he mutters under his breath.
The whistle blows, signaling the start of the match. The roar of the crowd is deafening, a wave of sound crashing over the players as they take to the pitch. The intensity of the rivalry between Ajax and Feyenoord is on full display, as both teams look to assert dominance from the opening minute. The energy in the stadium is electric, and Femi can feel the weight of the occasion pressing down on him. The rivalry is real, and it's here, in this moment, that he'll make his mark.
The match is everything Femi anticipated and more—fast-paced, physical, and unrelenting. As he battles on the left side of the pitch, he feels the eyes of Feyenoord's attack, particularly Max, on him. The pressure is immense. But Femi has worked too hard to let it get to him. He will stick to his training, trusts his instincts, and do his best to shut down the attacks that come his way.
To be continued...