Contest at Rico Pérez: a halftime challenge, rounds, and the promise of 300 euros

David Martínez Cerón, Álvaro Montesinos Lucio and Iván Casanova Gómez stood at the edge of the arena that day, watching as a small ritual unfolded during the halftime of a tense match at Rico Pérez. The purpose of the event was simple on the surface yet charged with anticipation: a prize of 300 euros was offered to anyone who could propel a shot from the very center of the field into the goal. It was not just a contest; it was a moment forged from the heartbeat of the crowd, a chance for spectators to test their nerves and their aim in the glow of the stadium lights. The idea had arrived as a quick spark between plays, a spontaneous bet that the halftime break would be memorable for the energy it could generate. As the teams regrouped and the clock slowed, the contestants who stepped onto the pitch felt the weight of the moment settle over them. The rules were straightforward enough to be grasped in a few breaths: a ball placed at the middle circle, a measured run, a clean strike toward the goal, and the possibility of earning a tidy sum right there in the stands or in the pockets of friends who came to cheer. Yet the execution proved elusive. The crowd leaned forward, eyes following each arc of leather as it sailed through the air, seeking a clean kiss of the net. For a long stretch, the attempts accumulated without finding the decisive touch needed to claim the prize. The applause from the spectators persisted, a steady chorus of encouragement, but no shot managed to bend the trajectory enough or drop into the goal with the precision the moment demanded. It became a quiet kind of suspense, a reminder that not every challenge meets its mark, even when the stakes seem approachable. There were many attempts, but the condition of the moment remained stubbornly unchanged: 300 euros would remain unclaimed for that day. Still, the event did not fade into silence. It was part of the larger ritual of the club, a recurring feature that would reappear with each new match at Rico Pérez, a familiar cadence that fans began to anticipate as eagerly as the game itself. The organizers planned to keep the momentum alive by publishing a contest coupon every day in the newspaper’s print edition, a tangible reminder that the challenge would return with the next edition. The coupon would be straightforward to fill out; readers who wished to participate could submit as many entries as they liked, alongside their contact information so that any potential winners could be reached without delay. The process for submitting these coupons was designed to be practical and accessible. Fans would place their completed entries into ballot boxes located at the entrance gates as they arrived for the match, ensuring a fair and orderly collection each time the stadium doors opened. The more coupons a participant submitted, the better their odds of being drawn or selected, creating an encouraging dynamic that rewarded engagement and enthusiasm. The mood around the halftime event carried the familiar buzz of a live sports experience: a blend of hope, friendly competition, and a sense that anything can happen in the few moments when players, fans, and the stadium converge for a shared spectacle. Although no one claimed the 300 euros that day, the memory of the attempt endured. It became a talking point for those who witnessed it, a reminder of the playful possibilities that live football can offer beyond the ninety minutes of regulation play. The contest would continue to be a recurring feature, a steady thread woven into the fabric of match days at Rico Pérez, where fans could dream, line up their own shots, and imagine that perhaps the next pass, the next strike, or the next halftime challenge might finally deliver the prize. In the weeks ahead, the coupon would reappear in the newspaper, inviting new and returning readers to participate with renewed vigor, to test their aim, and to engage with the rhythm of the club in a simple, accessible way. This ongoing ritual, while rooted in a prize, also served as a social thread, connecting the stadium experience with the broader audience that followed the team, both on site and in print. It stood as a reminder that the magic of football often lies not only in the game itself but in the small moments of shared hope and collective participation that make match days memorable for everyone involved.