Alex sat in the ice bath. It was cold. It was painful. It was his new favorite place.

His legs were throbbing from the Italy game. The bruises on his shins were turning a very impressive shade of purple.

Harry Kane was in the bath next to him. The England captain was reading a book about golf.

"You are shaking, Professor," Harry said, not looking up.

"The water is cold, Harry," Alex chattered.

"It is not the water," Harry smiled. "It is the news. You heard who won the other game."

Alex nodded. He had heard.

Portugal.

They had beaten Spain. They were through to the Quarter Finals.

That meant one thing.

Cristiano.

The legend. The machine. The man who had scored more goals than Alex had eaten hot dinners.

"He is just a man," Alex whispered, trying to convince himself.

Harry closed his book. He looked at Alex.

"He is not a man, Alex. He is a monument. He is a statue that runs. He is thirty nine years old, and he jumps higher than the crossbar. Do not disrespect the King."

"I am not disrespecting him," Alex said. "I am just... analyzing."

"Analyze this," Harry said, standing up and grabbing a towel. "If you give him one inch... just one inch... he will score. And he will do the celebration. And the whole stadium will scream 'SIUUU'. And it is very, very annoying. Do not let him do the 'Siuuu'."

The team meeting room was tense.

Gareth, the manager, stood at the front. He looked serious.

"Portugal," Gareth said. "They are talented. Bruno. Bernardo. Dias. They have world class players in every position."

He clicked the remote. A picture appeared on the screen.

It was just him. Cristiano.

"And they have him," Gareth said. "The inevitable."

He looked at the defense. "You cannot stop him. You can only annoy him. You can only delay him. He waits. He drifts. He looks like he is sleeping. And then... bang. Goal."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. This is your job. Not to mark him. But to stop the ball from getting to him. You have to cut the supply line. You have to stop Bruno. You have to stop Bernardo. If the ball does not get to the box, the King cannot score."

"Cut the line," Alex repeated.

"Yes," Gareth said. "Be the scissors. Be sharp. Be annoying."

Later that night, Alex was in his room. He was watching videos.

He watched Bruno Fernandes. He watched Bernardo Silva.

They were brilliant. They were creative.

But they had a habit.

They always looked for Cristiano. Even when he was covered. Even when he was offside. They looked for him. It was instinct. It was trust.

"They are addicted to him," Alex whispered to himself.

His phone buzzed. It was a video call.

Mark.

Alex answered. Mark's face filled the screen. He was wearing his silver 'Arrow' t shirt and sunglasses. He was in his garden.

"PROFESSOR!" Mark yelled. "PORTUGAL! CR7! THE GOAT!"

"Hi, Mark," Alex said.

"Listen to me," Mark said, pulling off his sunglasses. His eyes were huge. "I need you to do something for me. Something very important."

"Get you a shirt?" Alex guessed.

"Yes! But not just any shirt! I need the shirt he wears in the game! The sweaty one! Do not wash it! I want to frame it! I want to sleep with it!"

"Mark, that is disgusting."

"It is history!" Mark shouted. "Also... if you tackle him... do not hurt him. He is beautiful. If you hurt him, I will never forgive you."

"I will try not to break the legend," Alex laughed.

"Good. Now go to sleep. You look like a panda. You have circles under your eyes."

Mark hung up.

Alex looked at the screen. A panda.

He turned off the light.

Tomorrow... he played against the King.

The tunnel in Rome was wide and echoey. The Quarter Final was being played in Italy.

The stadium was full. Neutral fans. England fans. Portugal fans.

Alex stood in the line. He fixed his socks.

He felt a shadow fall over him.

He looked up.

And up.

Cristiano Ronaldo was standing next to him.

He was tall. He was tanned. His hair was perfect. He looked like he was made of marble and confidence.

He was looking straight ahead. He was chewing gum. He looked... focused.

Alex felt tiny. He felt like a child who had wandered onto the pitch by mistake.

Then, Cristiano looked down.

He saw Alex. He saw the number 26.

He winked.

He actually winked.

"Good luck, boy," Cristiano said. His voice was deep. "Try to keep up."

Alex couldn't speak. He just nodded.

They walked out. The noise. The heat. The lights.

It was the biggest stage in the world.

The game started.

Portugal was good. They were very good.

They kept the ball. They passed it around. Zip. Zip.

Alex was the Shield. He was running. He was watching Bruno. He was watching Bernardo.

He saw the pattern.

Bruno got the ball. He looked up. He looked for Cristiano.

Cristiano was making a run. A sharp, diagonal run.

Alex saw it.

He stepped in. He intercepted the pass.

"Good!" Harry Kane yelled.

Alex passed it to Declan. England attacked.

But Portugal was fast. They won it back.

Bernardo got the ball. He danced past a defender. He looked for Cristiano.

Alex was there. He blocked the passing lane.

He was cutting the line. He was the scissors.

Cristiano was getting annoyed. He threw his arms up. He yelled at Bernardo.

"Faster! Put it in!"

Alex smiled internally. The King was frustrated.

But you cannot stop the King forever.

In the 40th minute, England made a mistake.

A bad pass from the defense.

Bruno got the ball. Alex was out of position. He was too far away.

Bruno didn't look. He just whipped a cross into the box.

Cristiano was there.

He jumped.

He jumped so high his knees were level with the defender's head. He hung in the air. He defied gravity.

THWACK.

He headed it.

The ball flew into the corner. The keeper didn't even move.

GOAL.

One zero. Portugal.

Cristiano ran to the corner. He jumped. He spun in the air.

"SIUUUU!"

The whole stadium screamed it with him. "SIUUUU!"

It was loud. It was powerful. It was terrifying.

Alex stood there. He watched the celebration.

It was impressive.

"Focus, Alex!" Harry Kane yelled, clapping his hands. "He does that. It is what he does. Reset. Go again."

Alex nodded. Reset. Be stable.

Halftime. One zero.

Gareth was calm.

"You are playing well," he said. "You cut the lines. They only had one chance. And he scored. That is what happens."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. You are stopping the pass. But you are not... playing. You are too focused on them. We need you."

"I am trying to be the shield, boss," Alex said.

"Be the sword too," Gareth said. "Their defense is old. Pepe is forty. He is strong, but he is slow. If you run at him... he will panic."

Alex thought about it. Pepe. The other legend. The angry defender.

"Run at Pepe?" Alex asked. "He will eat me."

"He will try," Gareth smiled. "But you are smarter. Make him move. Make him turn."

The second half started.

Alex changed his mindset. He was not just stopping Bruno. He was looking for the ball.

He got it.

He saw Pepe. The bald, scary defender was waiting.

Alex did not pass. He drove.

He ran at Pepe.

Pepe stepped out. He looked like he wanted to tackle Alex into next week.

Alex waited. He waited until he saw the whites of Pepe's eyes.

Then he did the 'fake fake'.

He faked right. Pepe moved.

Alex went left.

He was past him.

Pepe tried to grab him. He missed.

Alex was in space.

He saw Sterling making a run.

Alex hit the pass. A perfect, low, slide rule pass.

Sterling ran onto it. He shot.

The Portugal keeper saved it.

"Close!" Sterling yelled. "Do it again, Professor!"

The game opened up.

Portugal attacked. England countered.

Cristiano was dangerous. Every time he touched the ball, the crowd gasped.

But Alex was growing. He was finding the rhythm.

Seventieth minute.

Alex won the ball from Bernardo.

He looked up.

He saw Harry Kane. Kane was deep. He was dragging the defenders out.

But behind Kane... there was a gap. A huge gap in the middle of the Portugal defense.

Alex saw a flash of white.

It was Bukayo Saka. The young winger. He was sprinting into the gap.

Alex did not hesitate.

He hit the Hurricane pass.

Sixty yards. Through the air.

It dropped over Pepe's head.

Saka caught it. He controlled it with one touch.

He was one on one.

He smashed it.

GOAL!

One one.

England celebrated. Alex pumped his fist. The Professor had delivered.

The game went to the wire. Eighty minutes. Eighty five.

Both teams were tired.

Cristiano was standing on the halfway line. He was waiting for one more chance.

Alex was watching him.

Ninetieth minute.

England had a throw in. Deep in the Portugal half.

Alex took it. He threw it to Kane.

Kane held it up. He gave it back to Alex.

Alex was on the edge of the box.

He was surrounded. Three blue shirts.

He saw a pass. A crazy pass.

James, who had come on as a sub, was making a run to the back post.

But the path was blocked. By Bruno. By Pepe.

Alex could not pass it on the ground. He could not pass it in the air.

So he... scooped it.

He put his toe under the ball. He lifted it.

A tiny, gentle, vertical chip.

The ball went up. Straight up. over the defenders heads.

It dropped... right onto James's foot.

It was magic. It was physics. It was impossible.

James volleyed it.

BOOM.

The net shook.

GOAL!

Two one. England.

In the last minute.

The stadium went crazy. The England bench emptied.

Alex was mobbed. He was buried under a pile of white shirts.

"THE SCOOP!" James was screaming. "THE SPOON! THE LADLE! WHAT WAS THAT?"

"Physics!" Alex laughed, trying to breathe.

The whistle blew.

England 2. Portugal 1.

They were in the Semi Finals.

Alex stood up. He was dizzy.

He looked around.

Cristiano was standing in the center circle. He was looking at the sky. He looked... sad. The King had fallen.

Alex walked over. He felt he had to.

"Cristiano," Alex said quietly.

The legend looked down.

"You," Cristiano said. "The Professor. That pass... it was... cheeky."

"It was high probability," Alex said.

Cristiano smiled. A real, tired smile.

"You are good, kid. You remind me... of a young me. But smarter. And slower. Much slower."

He took off his shirt. The number 7.

"Here," Cristiano said. "For your collection."

Alex took it. The holy grail. Marks dream.

"Thank you," Alex said. He gave Cristiano his shirt.

Cristiano walked away. The end of an era? Maybe.

But for Alex... it was just the beginning.

He walked to the fans. He held up the shirt.

He had beaten the King. He had beaten the Legend.

He was in the Semi Finals of the Euros.

His phone buzzed. Mark.

"DID YOU GET IT? TELL ME YOU GOT IT! SEND PICTURES! I AM FRAMING IT IN GOLD! ALSO... NICE ASSIST. I GUESS. YOU ARE A WIZARD, HARRY."

Alex laughed.

He looked at the tunnel.

Two more games. Just two more games. And the Professor could rule the world.

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