#ucl quarter finals

[thommi-tomate]

Well you know what they say no Thomas no party

[aaltilis]

As Chelsea fan,

Pierre Gasly watching chelsea match (and laughing) at Stamford Brigde is the content I never knew I needed. He probably laughed at chelsea, lol. 💙😂

[pastryleclerc]

"Mailand oder Madrid, Hauptsache Italien!"

Manchester City (more specifically John Stones & Jack Grealish), probably

[tchouameninga]

everyone calling us spoiled for calling the 18/19 and 20/21 season “the trenches” 😔 maybe we ARE the problem

[pernillecfcw]

Through to the quarter finals babyyyy!!! 🎉🎉

[onewhale]

Whether I'm alive or not will depend on today

[daminouspurity]

Inter Milan vs. S.L. Benfica | 2022-23 UEFA Champions League Quarter Final | Predictions FIFA 23

[percervall]

In all honesty I expected more. This is just two mid teams being mid and I am disappointed

[sportbarcelona]

MAN CITY ‘MIGHT NOT NEED’ STALWART ANYMORE

[thommi-tomate]

I woke up so sick and with no will to live so I hope God will have mercy on me and make the boys win today 🙏🏽🤒

[pulisicsgirl]

breathe, you're okay - mason mount

summary: when the mounting pressure of a Women's UCL run is falling on Y/N's shoulders, she isn't handling it by herself as well as she would like everyone to believe she is

pairing: Mason Mount x footballer!reader

word count: 2.9k

warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, no established relationship, !!descriptions of a panic attack!!, discussions about mental heath, supportive Mase

requested: no

notes: surprise!! I'm sorry I haven't posted in months-- my life kind of went up in flames over the summer and I haven't had the time to write that I was hoping to. I have a few WIPs in my drafts, and I am still working on all of your requests! Please let me know what you think of this!

The hot afternoon sun beat down on you, and you felt the drops of sweat sliding down the side of your head and tickling the hairs on the back of your neck. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you ran up and down the field, weaving between cones, carrying the ball at your feet, running through a series of consecutive drills that were designed to refine your skills and test your endurance.

You did your best to recall the instructions that your coach had carefully laid out before the team began the drill, but with the heat and the fatigue that was seeping all the way into your bones, it seemed impossible to remember. You wound up relying on the teammate in front of you to recall what you needed to do next.

You let out a heavy sigh of relief when you heard the sound of the whistle—two short chirps, signaling for you to halt your movements. You draped your arms over your head, drawing in deep, heaving breaths as you attempted to get your heart rate under control.

You joined the rest of your teammates as they gathered around the coach, preparing for his parting words before everyone was dismissed.

“Good session today, ladies,” he clapped his hands in front of him, looking around the circle. “I’m seeing a lot of good things. A lot of improvement in our touches and finishing. You all are looking really good.”

A couple of the girls clapped at his words, the rest too exhausted to do anything but listen.

“We have the day off tomorrow, so use it well. Rest, recover, and come back Monday ready to go. We’ve got some heavy prep next week before the second leg on Friday,” he continued, and a couple others whooped, getting excited for the upcoming big game.

“They’re gonna be a really tough opponent, I’ll be honest. We know that their back line is really strong, tough to break through.” Your coach’s eyes fell on you, and you knew what was coming next before he even began to speak, your stomach sinking slightly. “But that’s what we have Miss Y/N, for, right?”

Several of the girls cheered for you. The girls near you slapped you on the back, trying to get you hyped up. And the weight that had settled in the pit of your stomach grew heavier.

The Manchester United women were on an impressive UEFA Women’s Champions League run, overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds to make it to the semifinal. And according to the media (and now your own teammates and coaches), it was all thanks to you.

In the group stage, a decisive game in which your team had gone down 2-0 in the first half had seemed hopeless until you had scored two goals in the second, assisting on the third to put your team through to the knockout games. Another three goal contributions in the quarter-final matches had put you in the spotlight of all of the team’s media coverage, thrusting a wave of attention upon you that you had never asked for.

You had gone down 1-0 in the first leg of the semi-final, and now you were playing from behind. And it seemed that everyone expected you to be the one to pull them out of it.

So now, you were left feeling the pressure as the second leg was fast approaching.

“Alright, ladies. Have a good rest of the day and a great day off tomorrow.” He clapped his hands, dismissing you all. The circle of girls dispersed, chatting among themselves.

“Am I still leaving the cones out for you?” the coach raising his eyebrows at you. You only nodded in return. “Okay, don’t work yourself to death.”

You laughed humorlessly as you fiddled with the ball at your feet, not meeting his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, resting a hand on your shoulder to try to draw your attention to him. “Get some rest tomorrow, okay? We all see how hard you’re working. Give yourself a break.”

Another nod is all that you can muster, and you don’t miss the short sigh that he lets out as he drops his hand from your shoulder and walks to join the rest of the group moving indoors.

You repositioned a few of the cones to set up your own drill and got right into it.

Across the field, on another training pitch near yours, Mason watched as you carried the ball with you up and down the field, weaving between cones, practicing a few skills that he had seen you implement in games, and taking a shot on the goal at each pass.

He was supposed to be doing a bit of extra work with a few of the boys. The men’s team had finished their training session about an hour before, but a few of them still felt like they wanted to get a bit more done before calling it a day. So here they were, running a few small three-a-side games to utilize the last of their energy that day.

But he couldn’t help but notice how you never stopped.

During the team training, you were always one of the hardest-working ones out there. When he had returned to the pitch from lunch, you were taking shots on the goal with the rest of your team nowhere in sight. He wasn’t even sure he had seen you eating lunch inside when he thought about it.

And now here you were, sprinting across the length of the field, over and over, after the rest of your team had hit the showers.

He felt a twinge of worry for you but brushed it off as one of his teammates called his name to pull his attention back to the game they were playing.

Your head was spinning as you pushed yourself to keep moving. Your entire body was drenched in sweat. Every muscle ached from overexertion as you gritted your teeth, forcing them to keep moving. The sun was dizzyingly bright as the evening set in. You could feel the heat practically radiating off of your skin. Your lungs were burning with your heaving breaths and your mouth quickly grew dry.

“That’s what we have Miss Y/N for, right?” Your coach’s words echoed through your head as you carried the ball down the field.

“Y/L/N carries the Man U Women through to the semifinal!” You recalled the title of the article as you weaved between the cones.

“I really believe Y/N Y/L/N could be the one to lead Manchester United to their first Women’s Champion’s League trophy!” You heard the words of the pundit clear as day as you planted your foot, striking the ball cleanly. It soared through the air, curving toward the goal, and struck the crossbar. The ball flew away from the goal, bouncing pathetically on the ground in the penalty area.

You took a pause, the words and expectations crashing around your mind leaving an unsettling feeling in your chest. As you stood there, you couldn’t seem to get your panting breaths to grow steadier.

Your shirt suddenly felt too tight on your neck. You grasped the fabric, pulling it away from your body in an attempt to allow yourself to breathe easier, but nothing seemed to be helping.

Your head was spinning. You felt your stomach sink, a feeling like when you plummeted down the tall hill of a rollercoaster, a sick feeling settling in your abdomen. Your skin began to crawl, and you just couldn’t stop hyperventilating.

You began to panic. Eyes searching frantically for relief. You weren’t sure what you were looking for—something, anything.

You suddenly felt like you were too out in the open, needing to seclude yourself away from the sight of prying eyes. You set into a sprint, off of the field and around the corner of the nearest part of the building to you, trying to find some shade from the hot sun and hide yourself from anyone who might see your pathetic state.

But it was too late. Mason had seen the whole thing.

They had just paused their game for a short water break. He had seen you take the shot, instead hitting the crossbar. It only took him a few seconds once you paused to realize that something wasn’t right.

He watched the way your chest rose and fell rapidly in quick, short breaths. When you began attempting to pull your shirt away from your body, he instantly knew what was taking place. He’d recognize that feeling anywhere.

You were having a panic attack, whether you realized it or not.

As soon as he saw you take off for the side of the building, he was running after you without so much as a word of explanation to his teammates.

Once in the shade of the wall you hid behind, you began pacing, unable to keep still. Every inch of your body felt jittery, and you felt unsteady on your legs. You couldn’t manage more than rapid, shallow breaths. Your throat felt tight, your breaths sounding more like wheezes, and it was starting to make your head spin. Your hands flew to your head, scratching at your scalp in an attempt to somehow rid yourself of the feeling.

You were startled by Mason swiftly rounding the corner, concern written all over his face as he stopped in front of you.

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay,” he spoke calmly and evenly. He quickly reached up, taking your wrists in his hands so he could gently but firmly pull your hands out of your hair to keep you from hurting yourself.

“I can’t, Mason. I can’t,” you panted, shaking your head ‘no’ frantically and still trying to weakly pull your hand from his grip.

“You’re okay, Y/N. Try to slow down your breathing,” Mason’s calm voice directly contrasted your frantic behavior, speaking in short sentences so as to not overwhelm you more. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

A short sob fell from your lips, and you felt the tears spilling over and down your cheeks.

“We’re gonna lose,” you sobbed, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. “The semifinal, we’re gonna lose it, and it’s gonna be all my fault.”

In that moment, everything clicked into place for Mason-- the UWCL run, your success in the games leading up to the semi-final leg, the pressure from the fans and the team, the countless extra hours you had been putting in.

A loud noise in the distance, coming from the direction of the parking lot, startled you, snatching your attention and you whipped your head to the side, eyes searching frantically for the source. He released your wrists from his hand, testing the waters as he turned your head back to look at him with a hand on your cheek.

He cradled your face with a hand on either side, keeping your focus on him. His thumbs wiped the tears away that had slipped down your cheeks.

“Hey, look at me. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you,” he repeated the affirmations he had already been telling you.

As he stroked his thumbs softly over the skin of your cheek, he felt that your breathing was already growing a bit slower. You had reached up, holding onto his wrists with both of your hands to steady yourself, feeling too unsteady on your feet. His hands were gentle and soft on your skin.

Mason watched your expression, taking long deep breaths for you to emulate. Your eyes were still wide, darting frantically around his face, but you were trying your best to follow his breathing. He continued whispering short reassurances.

“You’re safe.”

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“I’ve got you.”

You were beginning to calm down, but your eyes darted to something behind Mason, pulled away from the calm atmosphere he had tried to create for you.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he spoke gently, pressing his forehead to yours so you would only focus on him. You were shocked at how little the intrusion on your personal space bothered you. In fact, to your surprise, the closeness seemed to settle you a little more.

You continued focusing on your breathing, gripping tightly to his wrists as if you thought he’d disappear if you let go. Your eyes were clamped closed, listening to Mason’s soft and slow breathing. You felt your pounding heart being to slow its pace.

The panic you had been feeling subsided, leaving behind a wave of extreme fatigue. You felt completely and utterly drained.

Mason must have noticed the way that your body slumped over, and he guided you to sit down on the grass, leaning back against the brick wall of the building. He sat down next to you, leaving space so he didn’t make you more nervous. But in the haze you felt in your mind, you felt a need to still be close to him, leaning over so you could place your head on his shoulder. A short pang of guilt washed over you as you noticed the crescent-shaped indents you had left on his wrists, your nails digging into the skin as you had held onto him.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, your eyes slipping closed as you continued focusing on breathing slowly. A gentle breeze blew through, cooling your clammy skin and brushing through the blades of grass.

“I used to get them sometimes, too, you know?” Mason broke the silence, speaking softly.

You responded with a quiet, “hmm?” unsure of what he meant.

“Panic attacks,” he explained. “At the end of last season, before I left Chelsea. There was a lot of pressure. Any time I played, everyone had something to say about it. Even when I didn’t play, some would find a reason to be upset. It all just got to be too much.”

A deep sadness filled you while you listened to his words. “How did you get through it?”

“Ben found me having one in my car after training one day.” He was quiet for a moment. “I tried to power through it—like you. Skipping lunch and staying late to train a bit extra on the field or put in an extra session in the gym. But once Ben realized what was going on, he made sure that I was taking care of myself properly and wasn’t dealing with it on my own anymore.”

You sat up so you could look at Mason’s face, and you saw a hint of sadness there. “So I’ll tell you what he told me. There are 10 other people with you on that field at all times. If you fall down, there are 10 pairs of hands ready to help you back to your feet. If you succeed, there are 10 others to celebrate with you. But it’s not all on you.”

Your eyes were misty, welling up with tears at his words. He slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a secure hug as the tears began to stream down your cheeks.

“No matter the outcome of the game next week, you’re an incredible player, Y/N.” He placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve already done so much so early in your career. The media and the fans will say what they want—don’t let them get to you. And your coaches may get carried away with their expectations for you, but it’s just because they’re so excited to see you succeed. Just be the player you know how to be, and your achievements will speak for themselves.”

“Thank you, Mason,” you whispered after pondering his words for a moment. No words could express the gratitude you felt for the relief he had brought you just by letting you know that he was there and he understood. But as he squeezed your shoulders lightly in response, you hoped he knew just how thankful you were.

Eventually, Mason helped you to your feet, guiding you back toward the fields. You were still feeling a bit weak and unsteady, so he made sure you remained upright with a gentle hold on your arm as you walked. Deciding it was time for you to call it a day, he insisted on collecting the cones that you had been training with, not allowing you to help him by picking up even one of them.

It took some convincing but you told him you would be fine to drive yourself home—his only condition was that you texted to let him know you made it there safely.

“Alright, then. Rest on your day off tomorrow. Give yourself a break, okay?” he spoke as he put the last of the cones away. “I’ll check in with you on Monday, if that’s okay.” He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. The two of you had been friendly before today, but you wouldn’t have considered yourselves close friends. He just wanted to be sure that you knew you had people in your corner.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot,” you nodded, smiling at him. With a final hug, he sent you on your way as he turned to rejoin his (undoubtedly confused) teammates where he had left them.

“Remember: rest!” he shouted back at you as you parted ways, and you couldn’t stop the blushing smile that worked its way onto your face.

tag list: @landoslover @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @bracedes @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti

[macybeckham7]

Sitting on the balcony at the hotel with Bellingham

You had got the cans of fanta from the fridge and go out to the balcony, Jude’s hands go to either side of your hips and pulls you down onto his lap. It was an hour after the first round of the Quarter Final of the UCL, the game finished at a stalemate against Real Madrid and Man City. You often stayed up late after big games with Jude as he had too much adrenaline to go to sleep. He gently played your hair as you talk about the game, about everything, about nothing. Your eyes were firmly on the starry sky. You talk about how this could be a very big summer this could be in his career, he mentioning that he is looking forward going on holiday with you and the family (which is Jude to the t). You both stop talking as you hear some fans below you, they were chanting Jude’s name, which makes you both laughing as you look at each other. You cuddle into him as you felt this was the best time, you had him all to yourself, the world goes round but it felt like you were alone with him and the thousand of stars above you.

[mssi]

i can’t believe barça is finally through to the quarter finals in the ucl

[agardenofbasil]

kounde's comment about pedri reminded me of this

https://www.tumblr.com/pedripics/747474750611374080/raphinha-about-pedris-assist-the-funny-thing?source=share

which is such an insane thing to say, like this was his first game back after injury (and a ucl quarter final as well), he gets subbed on and delivers 15 seconds later. or when he told flick he would score against girona and he did. like that's so attractive.

and i remember gavi being asked who he would award the MVP award to other than himself during the world cup (in a game in which he himself scored) and i have never seen someone say 'pedri' quicker than him.

(https://youtu.be/xr7dTSoKT_k?si=UxlqJQfhgxAnFJmJ)

he also said that for him pedri is the best

https://www.tumblr.com/pedripics/727665311985303552/gavi-about-pedri-in-fc-barcelona-a-new-era?source=share

so i know that he appreciates getting the armband from pedri on so many levels

Pedri is incredibly humble and modest about his skills, yet at the same time, he isn't shy at all to step up when the chance comes. This is a player who makes a decision and acts on it very quickly, and I think that's what makes him so versatile on the field! Also certainly attractive to have that level of assurance on the field but then to stay level headed, humble off of it. He delivers!

Ahh, thank you for these links. I love watching videos on them outside of their training/games. Gavi really didn't miss a single beat. I also like that video where someone asks them who their best friends on the team are, and they say each other. 🥺

Gavi for sure appreciates it. He looked incredibly emotional after the game, and the whole team seemed to acknowledge how important the armband and this comeback was for not just Gavi, but the team as a whole. I hope their friendship continues to flourish for so so long.

[daminouspurity]

FC Bayern München vs. Manchester City 2022-23 UEFA Champions League Quarter Final Prediction FIFA 23

[liesmyth]

A primer on the UEFA Champions League for the Ted Lasso fandom

In the finale, we’re told several times that Richmond have qualified for the Champions League. If you have only a very vague idea of what that means, this is the post for you.

WHAT IS IT?

The Champions League (UCL) is a club competition among top-league European clubs. It draws clubs from the top leagues of ALL* countries members of UEFA, the governing body of football associations in Europe. (*All countries except Liechtenstein and, currently, Russia)

WHEN IS IT?

The UCL runs alongside the regular season, from September to June. This means that clubs who compete in it play UCL matches on top of regular Premier League matches. Richmond weren’t “promoted” to the Champions League — they remain first and foremost a Premier League club. They also get to play with the rest of Europe’s cool kids.

UCL matches would be mid-week (Tuesday or Wednesday) every 3-ish weeks, and domestic league matches would usually be on weekends. YES this will mean that Richmond will be very busy next season.

WHICH CLUBS ARE IN IT?

The top 4 clubs in the Premier League automatically make it to the main competition for the NEXT round of the UCL. The path is a bit more complicated for most other countries but luckily it doesn’t apply here so we don’t need to go into that.

Richmond finished in second place in the League for the year 21/22 (season 3) so they’d play in the UCL for the 22/23 season. This doesn’t mean they are guranteed to still play in the UCL in the 23/24 season if they can’t end the 22/23 Prem in the Top 4. They need to REMAIN a top national club to qualify again for the Champions League.

HOW DOES IT WORK? 

GROUP STAGE: a round-robin round where 32 teams are divided in 8 groups of 4. Each team in each group plays the other teams in the group twice, once at home (hosting) once away (being hosted) for a total of SIX matches. The top TWO sides in each group advance to the knockout round. This stage takes place from August to December. Richmond would enter directly from this round.

KNOCKOUT ROUND: this round is in double-legged format—this means that each paired sides play each other TWICE, once at home and once away. The round winner is decided by goal difference, so a side can advance to the next round if they lose one of the two matches, provide they win the other by a larger goal difference. If both legs are a draw, there can be extra time and/or a penalty shootout.

In the round of 16 sides from the same country CAN’T play against each other, so for example Richmond couldn’t play Arsenal in that round. In the quarter-final (8 teams) and a semifinal (4 teams) rounds teams from the same country CAN draw each other, so that could happen.

For example, in the current season, AC Milan played Napoli in the quarter-final and then Inter Milan in the semifinals; all three teams are from Italy. The double-legged knockout round takes place from February to May.

FINAL: It’s in June. The two teams who remain standing after the semifinals only play each other ONCE. The location is appointed beforehand and it’s often neutral ground to both teams. The next UCL final will actually be this Saturday (June 10) Man City v. Inter Milan will play in Istanbul.

how many matches in a UCL season?

If you make it to the semifinals, it’s 6 in group stage + 6 in the 3 successive knockout rounds. This is 12 matches, of which 6 are away (and usually abroad) The final is the 13th match.

What does it mean to win the Champions League?

The UCL is considered the most prestigious club competition in the world. We see in in the show; Roy having won the UCL with Chelsea in 2012 comes up several times in S1, even though Chelsea also won the Premier League multiple times while Roy was there — but the Champions League is the one people bring up.

Winning the domestic league is obviously a big fucking deal, but winning the UCL is huge. Only a handful of top-league clubs have won it multiple times, and many big clubs have NEVER won it (including Man City, PSG, Arsenal and AS Roma) Then there’s Real Madrid who’ve won it FOURTEEN TIMES

EDIT: Man City have since won their first UCL trophy