One Picture One Story Week #96

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It was a cold autumn night at St. James Park cut-throatingly with floodlights on the dark sky, all the cheers reverberating on old stands. The loyalists of Newcastle crowded the terraces, and anticipated that Barcelona would come, do their stuff, but never to make the English scene and definitely not to rob the moment.

Enter Marcus Rashford. The forward, who had just joined Barca on a loan basis after leaving Manchester United, had been spending months training in the background hoping to get an opportunity. The damage to the important wingers of Barca (Yamal, Balde, Gavi) paved the way. Flick, who had the feeling that his forward line was desperate, prodded him, Your night will come, just be ready.

The whistle blew. Newcastle made early attacks, pressing, shaking Barca into defence. The spectators shouted; each one of the passes miscontrolled by a back-player, each of the mispasses of a midfielder was thundered down. But Rashford stayed calm. Viewing of the first half, energy saving, reading the flow.

In the 58 th minute, crosses came in with Kounde on a right wing cross. Rashford, not too soon, not too late sprang. His dribble head: accurate, strong, faultless. One nil Barca. There was the silence and disbelief in the Newcastle end; the joy and relief of the traveling fans.

In the 67th it was Rashford who made them think that magic could work, nine minutes later. and picking up the ball just outside of the box, one of the defenders pursuing him, and another falling behind him he turned and shielded himself, and shot low and curling. It snatched at the bottom of the crossbar, dipped and settled at the top corner. Two nil. St James’ Park, electric. For those few seconds, Rashford was not just a loan signing but a reminder of a star.

Frantic minutes and heart-palpitating hope were required as Newcastle scored one back late through Anthony Gordon. But Barcelona held on. 2–1 final. Rashford had not merely scored, he had quieted critics, rewarded Faith in Flick, and himself.

Why Player of the Week?

This, was his first Champions League with Barça and Rashford had the greatest thing that legends do; he rose to the occasion. He was the first Englishman to get a goal in the European cup playing in Barcelona in 36 years since Gary Lineker.
His two objectives were of another type: precision of the header down the air, and the bold long shot. It exhibited distance, method and character.
The moment: during the group opener, not at home, not against a Newcastle side that was lively, and just anxious to shut them up. It was the beginning of his season and the Barcelona campaign in the champions league.

A Fictional Twist

Rashford was alone in the dressing room a little later. The cry still throbbed in the pitch. He touched the match ball of soft leather almost to his breast, and wondered of Manchester of the troubles, the criticisms, the never-ending questions. He dreamed about the boy who kicked a ball first in Withington. Slow motion: the leaping into the air to take a header, the way the ball ran, the horrible bang of his second effort in the air against the bar. And he smiled, quietly proud.

Then Flick walked in and laid his hand on his shoulder and applauded him. “That was your moment,” he said. “And many more are coming.” Rashford responded with a nod of his head, and his heart still pounded.

With the deepening of the night the bus of Barcelona drove away Tyneside under street-lights, and the trophy dream was more flaming in his chest than ever.

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