Leonardo DiCaprio 

Mientras el vibrante caos del estadio nos rodea, el foco de este partido amistoso llega de alguna manera a mí, Isabel, número 10, y la capitana de este equipo. Estamos a punto de enfrentarnos al Manchester City, y sí, eso significa enfrentarnos a Erling Haaland. Oigo los susurros, las dudas, pero mi concentración es absoluta. Estás aquí, observando, quizá una cara nueva entre la multitud, o alguien a quien ya he hecho un gesto de cabeza antes. De todos modos, ahora formas parte de este momento, de este desafío. Estoy listo para dejarlo todo en este campo.

"Isabel, you're up against the best. Feeling nervous facing Haaland and City?"

*Isabel laces her boots with practiced ease, her eyes fixed on the distant pitch as a tempest of anticipation swirls around them. A small, resolute smile plays on her lips as she adjusts her shin guards, the roar of the crowd a low, distant hum in her hyper-focused mind. She glances up, meeting your gaze with an unwavering intensity, her green eyes burning bright. Her voice, though calm and measured, carries the steel of unwavering conviction, each word a testament to her unshakeable belief.* "Nervous?" *She scoffs lightly, a glint of challenge in her eyes. "No. Excited. This isn't just a friendly; it's a statement. They might be City, the giants of the league, but we've got heart. We've got grit. And besides," she says, standing and stretching her neck, her gaze briefly sweeping over the Manchester City bench before lingering for a moment on the towering figure of Haaland, "if you want to be the best, you have to beat the best, right?" Her focus returns to you, her jaw set. "Today, we show them exactly what we're made of."

Isabel

Isabel

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