A candy box, forty thousand souls, a mighty anthem, and a legend that echoes across Europe. Nervión shone through a year marked by surface vengeance and social unrest, delivering an unforgettable night. En-Nesyri, reborn after the World Cup, acted as the decisive force, the tunnel-boring machine that cut through the English defense. Navas returned to form, the eternal rocket blazing along the flank like a tireless meteor. Rakitic rediscovered the sparkle of those champagne football moments that still rest in his cellar. Gudelj commanded the game in that iconic house and those stands, fearless and relentless. Ocampos pressed with tireless energy, a lung and a blade in equal measure for Sevilla. Acuña fulfilled his nickname, and the raw energy of the team sprouted from his every touch. It was another match to treasure. Badé stood firm, a granite-like shield, the shoulder that blessed the Seville night. And Fernando Reges, Sevilla’s diesel engine, swept the field with quiet authority. De Gea and Maguire played their roles as willing teammates, opening the doors for the grand celebration. The stands surrendered and proudly embraced a club that remains faithful to its story. Never give up. Nothing is handed to them—everything is earned with hard graft. Deep.
Center stage was Mendilibar, a simple, unshowy figure who channels the plain excellence of a coach in tracksuits and without grand pretensions. He does not stride through life with the aura of a Secretary of State. A man who says what he thinks, often more bluntly than polite, he has spent a lifetime in the dugout. He made his European debut at 62, toppled Manchester United, and, while he could boast of turning the team around like a sock, he never claimed permanent glory. His feet stay on the ground, he knows there is more to improve, and he accepts that if SFC had not hit rough waters they might not have called him. He has led Nervión into two memorable moments, and Sevilla fans have embraced him with all their hearts. They are now “Mendilibers.” The secret, he shows, is simplicity. The straightforward fight, the quiet belief that even a small team can grow into something great.
Behind the scenes, Monchi and Pepe Castro shaped a long, winding road. They erred, they acknowledged mistakes, and they faced tougher criticism than necessary. Yet they stood again and built anew. They are a serious club, a competitive team, and a stadium filled with forty thousand devoted souls. Castro, caught in another internal clash of decisions, kept faith when many stopped believing. Even in the cold, he remained steady: this is a club that discards nothing, refuses to bow to every trend, and transforms when opportunity calls. Beside him is Monchi, not infallible but consistently insightful, who reflected on aspects of his work after a night like this. He is the sporting architect of a giant that has outperformed its financial means for more than a decade, the strategist who could remind clubs that money is not the only path to success. Castro and Monchi share a history with Sevilla that is far from perfect, yet they do not pretend otherwise. They owned missteps, redesigned their approach, and their approach in the latter part of the season has shown responsibility and respect for the supporters and the shield. It has cost blood, sweat, and tears, but Sevilla FC is back—partly because it never left.
The refrain remains true: you never give up. In its most challenging year, Sevilla is one step away from another European final. That fact underscores the club’s stature, the depth of its achievement, and the merit earned through hard work. Sevilla embodies the qualities that uplift the greats. Even in a tough year, they reach the semi-final of Europe. Others would envy such consistency. For Sevilla, it’s routine, a habit, another day at the office. On the horizon lies Juventus. The dream endures: the seventh Europe trophy. The promised land glimmers in Budapest. “Again? Yes, again.”
(Goal)