stilllcrusade

SERIE A 2025/26:

THE RESURRECTION OF A LOST ORDER

WRITTEN BY: Y + A

ONCE, SERIE A WAS THE CATHEDRAL.

EVERY SACRED SUNDAY—

A LITURGY OF PLATINUM-TOED KILLERS,

FOGGED PITCHES,

AND MYTHIC BACKLINES

CARVED FROM IRON.

WE WERE YOUNG,

BUT WE REMEMBER.

MILAN’S SYMPHONIES. INTER’S ARMOUR.

ROMA’S PROPHETS. NAPOLI’S RAW GO

AND JUVENTUS—THE OLD LADY

CLOAKED IN RELENTLESS TRADITION,

WINNING NOT BY ACCIDENT,

BUT BY RITE.

BUT THEN CAME THE FALL.

SCANDAL CRACKED THE ALTAR.

GREAT NAMES SCATTERED

TO OTHER LEAGUES .

THE STREETS QUIETED.

THE CHANTS DULLED.

ITALY, ONCE THE FORGE OF GLORY,

BECAME THE FORGOTTEN FLAME.

AND YET—WHAT IS BURIED

IS NOT ALWAYS DEAD.

THIS LEAGUE DID NOT CRUMBLE.

IT TRAINED IN EXILE.

WATCHED. WAITED.

BUILT ACADEMIES FROM

BROKEN BONES.

FORGED NEW GODS IN SILENCE

WHILE THE WORLD LOOKED ELSEWHERE.

NOW?

IT RETURNS NOT TO

RECLAIM THE SPOTLIGHT—

BUT TO HAUNT IT.

A NEW GENERATION WEARS THE CRESTS

LIKE BLOOD BORN OATHS.

STADIUMS QUAKE AGAIN.

AND THE WORLD LOOKS TO ITALY

NOT WITH NOSTALGIA—BUT WITH AWE.

THIS IS NOT A COMEBACK.

THIS IS A RESURRECTION

OF FOOTBALL AS WAR, ART,

AND NATIONHOOD.

SERIE A HAS RISEN—

NOT FOR APPROVAL,

BUT FOR LEGACY.

THEATER OF IRON + INK

/ PITCH AS ALTAR

/ TACTICS AS GOSPEL /

/BLOOD AS BLUEPRINT/

IN ITALY, FOOTBALL IS NOT A SPORT.

IT IS A SACRED REHEARSAL FOR WAR—

A SHADOW DANCE ACROSS

THE SANCTIFIED GEOMETRY OF THE PITCH.

EACH BLADE OF GRASS A BATTLEFIELD.

EACH FORMATION A PREMONITION.

EACH SUBSTITUTION A SUMMONING.

WHERE OTHERS CHASE CHAOS,

ITALY DRAWS CONSTELLATIONS IN MOTION.

IT DOES NOT ROAR—

IT CALCULATES.

AND WHEN IT STRIKES,

IT STRIKES LIKE AN EDUCATED KNIFE:

DELIBERATE, PRECISE, AND FATAL.

SERIE A IS A THEATER OF IRON AND INK.

IRON IN THE BONES OF DEFENDERS.

INK IN THE NOTEBOOKS OF MANAGERS

WHO COMPOSE LIKE GENERALS,

ARCHITECTS OF SILENCE AND SUFFOCATION.

HERE, TACTICS ARE GOSPEL,

AND SPACE IS HOLY GROUND.

EVERY INCH EARNED IS A SACRAMENT.

EVERY LOSS A TRAGEDY.

EVERY CLEAN SHEET

A SCRIPTURE SEALED

IN SWEAT AND BLOOD.

THIS IS NOT A GAME.

IT IS ARCHITECTURAL WARFARE.

AND ITALY IS WHERE BLUEPRINTS BLEED.

PATIENCE IS POWER

THIS IS A PRAYER.

THIS LEAGUE IS BRAIDED

IN THE ITALIAN PHILOSOPHY

OF RESTRAINT AND PATIENCE.

WE SEE IT IN THE NATION’S

ART, ARCHITECTURE, CULINARY,

AUTOMOTIVE CRAFT, AND FASHION.

BUT ABOVE ALL — WE SEE IT IN ITS FOOTBALL.

WHERE OTHER LEAGUES CHASE

CHAOS AND COMBUSTION,

ITALY TRAINS IN ANTICIPATION.

HERE, MASTERY IS BUILT IN SILENCE.

STRUCTURE IS SACRED.

EACH MOVEMENT IS RITUAL.

EACH TACKLE — A SERMON.

EACH GOAL — A REVELATION.

THIS IS FOOTBALL AS

SILENCE BEFORE STRIKE.

FOOTBALL AS ARCHITECTURE IN MOTION.

FOOTBALL AS SACRED WAITING.

NOT EVERYTHING MUST EXPLODE.

SOME THINGS MUST SIMMER.

LIKE SAUCE IN A NONNA’S KITCHEN,

STIRRED WITHOUT CLOCK,

ONLY BY FEEL.

ONLY THEN DOES IT SERVE.

ONLY THEN DOES IT BECOME A MEAL WORTHY OF MYTH.

ITALY DOESN’T PLAY TO ENTERTAIN.

IT PLAYS TO ENDURE.

IT PLAYS TO REMIND YOU

THAT VIOLENCE CAN BE SCULPTED,

IF ONLY YOU WAIT LONG ENOUGH

TO WITNESS IT UNFOLD.

NAPOLI

THE SOUTHERN CROWN.

THE RHYTHM REFORGED.

THE BLADE REBORN.

CHAMPIONS OF THE SOUTH.

CROWNED IN SWEAT, FIRE, AND BLOODLINE.

THE STORM COULDN’T SCATTER

THEIR RHYTHM LAST SEASON—

IT ONLY MADE THEIR ALTAR GROW

BEYOND THE SOUTHERN SKIES.

MCTOMINAY MOVES LIKE A SACRED FLARE.

LUKAKU—IS THE BLADE REBORN.

AND CONTE?

HE’S NOT BUILDING A TEAM.

HE’S RAISING A MILITIA.

WILL THEY RECLAIM

WHAT THEY BLED FOR?

WE SAY YES.

BECAUSE THIS TIME,

THEY WON’T BLEED.

THEY’LL BE THE ONES

SLASHING SCARS ACROSS THE TABLE.

BECAUSE UNDER THE SOUTHERN SUN,

THEY RESURRECT.

THIS IS STILL THEIR FIRESTORM.

AND THEY’RE NOT DONE BURNING.

INTER MILAN

THEY WON’T SHUT UP

ABOUT THEIR 20TH SCUDETTO BADGE—

AND THEY SHOULDN’T.

THE SERPENT IS STILL

COILED WITH INTENT.

LAUTARO REMAINS CAPTAIN,

THURAM IS MATURING

INTO A SERIOUS OPERATOR,

AND CHIVU’S SYSTEM IS STABLE.

THEY’RE THE ONES TO BEAT.

BEWARE STAGNATION.

A SLOW START AND THE PRESSURE

OF DEFENDING COULD

TURN THE SERPENT INTO STONE.

JUVENTUS

THE HUNGER OF KENAN YILDIZ

IN BLACK AND WHITE

CHANGES THEIR ATTACK’S PULSE—

COLD, COMMANDING, TURKISH PRECISION.

AND MOTTA IS GONE.

NEW BLOOD IS FINALLY IN CHARGE,

SIGNALLING A SLOW DEATH FOR “WIN 1–0 AND SLEEP.”

TRANSMISSION NOTE:

THEY ARE NOT BEAUTIFUL.

BUT THEY MIGHT BECOME BRUTAL.

AND THAT’S WORSE.

AC MILAN

THE PROPHECY REVERSED.

PIOLI HAS STEPPED OUT—

AND ALLEGRI STEPS BACK IN.

A MARRIAGE OF

PRAGMATISM AND PARANOIA.

WHAT ONCE WAS CHAOS

MIGHT NOW BECOME COLD STEEL.

RAPHAEL LEÃO WILL BE REQUIRED

TO PLATE A VITAL

ROLE IN THAT SYSTEM.

WILL HE ACTUALLY RISE TO THAT

OR WILL HE BECOME

THE FLASH PORTUGUESE JACK GREALISH?

OUR FAITH WON’T

REST IN THIS ERA—

BUT WE DO WATCH IT. CLOSELY.

ALLEGRI AT MILAN AGAIN

IS THE ECHO OF A STORM

THAT NEVER REALLY LEFT.

AS ROMA

GASPERINI IS NOW IN THE CAPITAL.

THE CITY BACKS HIM.

AND NOW, WITH A FULL SUMMER

AND CLEARER VISION,

ROMA MAY FINALLY TAP

INTO THE CHAOS THEIR ULTRAS DREAM OF.

THEY DON’T WANT PRETTY.

THEY WANT BLOOD, FURY, AND A SPOT

IN THE TOP FOUR.

DYBALA’S HEALTH REMAINS

THE AXIS OF FATE.

ROMA’S SEASON ALWAYS

SWINGS ON ONE HINGE.

THIS YEAR, THAT HINGE IS SANITY.

PLAYER WATCH: SCOUTS OF THE NEW ORDER

LAUTARO MARTÍNEZ

THE GHOST OF RIQUELME

WITH THE BOOTS OF BATISTUTA.

FORGES GOALS WITH

NO BACKLIFT, NO WARNING.

WHEN HE’S LOCKED IN,

HE DOESN’T STRIKE — HE ELIMINATES.

BARELLA

A BASTARD SERAPH IN MIDFIELD.

IF YOU GIVE HIM AN INCH,

HE BAPTIZES IT IN VENOM.

TACTICALLY UNHINGED.

SPIRITUALLY UNFORGIVING.

STILLL ITALY’S SHARPEST DAGGER.

SCOTT MCTOMINAY

THIS ONE ISN’T PRETTY.

BUT IT’S PERSISTENT.

WAGES WAR IN STRAIGHT LINES.

BULLET HEADER. CLEAN STRIKE.

RUTHLESS SCOTTISH PROTESTANT ENERGY.

YOU FEEL HIM ARRIVE.

MARCUS THURAM

NOT JUST THE SON.

A TOWER WHO RUNS

LIKE A BLADE

THROUGH OPEN SPACE.

DELIVERS WITH HUMILITY,

STRIKES WITH QUIET CERTAINTY.

THE MOST UNBOTHERED

ASSASSIN IN EUROPE.

KENAN YILDIZ

OTTOMAN SPECTRE

WITH A STREET-BOY GRIN.

GLIDES PAST YOU LIKE

HE’S ALREADY SEEN THE FUTURE.

EVERY TOUCH WRITES

A NEW ALPHABET OF THREAT.

HE’S NOT COMING — HE’S BECOMING.

ALESSANDRO BASTONI

READS THE GAME LIKE SCRIPTURE.

DEFENDS LIKE HE’S SEEN WAR.

LEFT-FOOTED CALM UNDER FIRE,

CAPABLE OF A DIAGONAL

THAT TURNS STRATEGY INTO SORCERY.

PAULO DYBALA

LANGUID VENOM.

HAUNTS THE PENALTY ARC

LIKE A FALLEN ANGEL

WITH UNFINISHED BUSINESS.

STILLL CAPABLE OF WRITING

A HAIKU IN THREE TOUCHES.

HIS LEFT FOOT? SIMPLY PURE.

RAFAEL LEÃO

ACCELERATES LIKE

HE’S OUTRUNNING CHILDHOOD.

SHOULDER DROPS, UNIVERSE SHIFTS.

DEFENDERS GET VERTIGO,

FANS GET VISIONS.

A DRIBBLE FROM HIM

IS A REBELLION IN MOTION.

PILLAR V: THIS RESURRECTION WONT BE STREAMED

THE RESURRECTION

IS NOT TELEVISED

THIS IS NOT MAINSTREAM FOOTBALL.

THIS IS HIDDEN GLORY. AND WE WILL NEVER

TURN OUR BACKS ON THE SERIE A.

THIS IS NOT THE PREMIER LEAGUE.

NOT A DISNEY+ REBOOT.

NOT A TIKTOK-FRIENDLY SUPERCUT

OF STEPOVERS, BRAND DEALS,

AND BILLION-POUND NOISE.

THIS IS DEVOTION

IN DUST AND DEFIANCE.

THIS IS RESURRECTION

THROUGH RUST AND ROUTINE.

SERIE A IS WHERE YOU PLAY

FOR PRIDE BEFORE PRIZES.

WHERE THE ULTRAS STILLL

CALL YOUR NAME

LIKE IT MEANS SOMETHING.

WHERE A CHIPPED SHINPAD

MATTERS MORE THAN A LAUNCH COLORWAY.

WHERE THE GOAL ISN’T CLOUT—

IT’S CONSECRATION.

BECAUSE THIS ISN’T ABOUT VIRALITY.

WE DON’T SEEK MILLIONS OF EYES.

WE SEEK ONE GAZE THAT UNDERSTANDS.

THEY SAID FOOTBALL WAS DEAD.

WE SAID IT WAS JUST HIDING.

HIDING IN A GENOA RAINSTORM.

HIDING IN TORINO’S BLOODLINE.

HIDING IN THAT DYING MINUTE

WHEN A 36-YEAR-OLD FULLBACK

WHIPS IN A CROSS LIKE

IT’S HIS FINAL PRAYER.

HIDING IN LECCE, EMPOLI, MONZA,

AND EVERY BACK ALLEY STADIUM

WHERE SMOKE BOMBS

BLUR THE SACRED CHANTS.

BECAUSE SERIE A

ISN’T ABOUT “CONTENT.”

IT’S A RITUAL.

AND RITUALS DON’T NEED TO BE TELEVISED.

THEY NEED TO BE WITNESSED.

WE STRIKE IN STADIUMS

WHERE NO CAMERA DARES LINGER.

WE RISE IN LEAGUES

THE ALGORITHM IGNORES.

BECAUSE WHAT’S HIDDEN

CANNOT BE KILLED.

AND TO THOSE WHO TURNED AWAY?

YOU WERE NEVER MEANT

TO SIT AT THIS TABLE.

THIS IS OUR RESURRECTION.

IT WON’T BE TELEVISED.

IT WILL BE FELT.

CLOSER: THE PROPHECY WASN’T LOST — IT JUST SPOKE IN LOWER TONES

THIS IS NOT NOSTALGIA.

THIS IS CONTINUITY.

WE DON’T SPEAK OF SERIE A IN PAST TENSE.

WE WALK WITH IT IN REAL TIME—

THROUGH THE FOG-

SLICKED STREETS OF BOLOGNA,

THE THUNDER OF THE CURVA SUD,

THE TREMBLING FLOODLIGHTS

OF A RAINY NIGHT IN GENOA.

THEY THOUGHT THE ERA WAS OVER.

THAT GLORY PACKED ITS BAGS

AND LEFT FOR CLEANER LEAGUES,

FASTER HIGHLIGHT REELS,

AND GLOBAL MARKETABILITY.

BUT PROPHECY DOESN’T SHOUT.

IT WHISPERS.

SERIE A WAS NEVER

FOR THE ALGORITHMS.

IT WAS NEVER FOR THE ONES

SCROLLING WITH NUMB THUMBS.

IT WAS NEVER FOR THE WORLD

THAT NEEDED TO BE TOLD

WHAT’S BEAUTIFUL.

IT IS FOR THOSE WHO WITNESS.

THOSE WHO SEE A LOOPING VOLLEY

AT THE OLIMPICO AND KNOW

THEY’VE JUST SEEN A SERMON.

THOSE WHO RECOGNISE

A TACKLE AS A VOW,

A MIDFIELD AS A BATTLEFIELD,

A THROUGH BALL AS SCRIPTURE.

THOSE WHO UNDERSTAND THAT IN THIS LEAGUE—

SOMETIMES SURVIVAL

IS MORE MYTHIC THAN WINNING.

SERIE A DIDN’T DIE.

IT RESURRECTED IN SILENCE.

AND NOW, IT PLAYS ON—

QUIETLY SACRED,

STUBBORNLY DIVINE,

GLORIOUSLY UN-VIRAL.

SO LET THEM CHASE SPECTACLE.

WE CHOOSE DEVOTION.

WE CHOOSE THE CROOKED HALOS,

THE DIVINE GRIFT,

THE BROKEN KINGS WHO STILLL

FIND A WAY TO SCORE IN THE 89TH.

SERIE A ISN’T JUST FOOTBALL.

IT IS PROPHECY UNFOLDING I

N THE PRESENT TENSE—

ONE PIAZZA AT A TIME.

STILLL HERE.

STILLL SACRED.

∞STILLLCRUSADE.

2025

ALTAR OF LA LIGA 2025/26:

PROPHECY, BLOOD, + ILLUMINATION

WRITTEN BY: Y+A

THE ETERNAL PULSE

SPANISH FOOTBALL BREATHES DIFFERENT.

IT IS NOT JUST A LEAGUE—

IT IS A LITURGY. IT IS THE ALTAR

WHERE BLOODLINES, PHILOSOPHY, AND CITY WALLS

COLLIDE UNDER A SUN THAT BOTH

BLESSES AND JUDGES.

THE GAME IS PLAYED WITH A PULSE

THAT FEELS OLDER

THAN THE BALL ITSELF—

A PULSE THAT REMEMBERS EMPIRES,

CIVIL WARS, AND LOVE LETTERS

WRITTEN IN THE LANGUAGE

OF MIDFIELD POETS.

EVERY PASS IS A SCRIPTURE.

EVERY TOUCH IS A REVELATION.

IN SPAIN, FOOTBALL IS NOT A HOBBY—

IT IS THE NATIONAL POETRY

RECITED IN STUDIUMS THAT TURN INTO

CATHEDRALS ON SUNDAY.

IT IS A THEATRE OF

PROPHETS AND PRETENDERS,

WHERE THE DRAMA IS NOT MANUFACTURED

FOR TELEVISION BUT PULLED

FROM THE EARTH ITSELF.

THE LA LIGA PITCH IS A STAGE OF CONTRAST—

IN THE NORTH, THE STEEL AND SHADOW

OF BASQUE FORTRESSES;

IN THE SOUTH, THE SUN-LIT BLUES

AND ORANGE BLOSSOMS

THAT SMELL LIKE PRAYERS.

EVERY CLUB CARRIES ITS CITY’S DNA,

ITS OLD SECRETS, AND ITS NEW AMBITIONS.

THE WORLD MAY CELEBRATE

THE PREMIER LEAGUE FOR ITS SPEED

AND BLOODTHIRST,

BUT THERE IS SOMETHING HOLY

IN SPANISH FOOTBALL

THAT MOST MISS. THERE IS A GHOST

OF ILLUSTRIOUS MESS AND PROPHECY

THAT ILLUMINATES THE LEAGUE—

A SENSE THAT EVERY MATCH

IS AN ACT IN A CENTURY-LONG

PLAY WHERE THE ENDING

IS FOREVER BEING REWRITTEN.

AND THIS IS WHY EL CLÁSICO

IS MORE THAN A GAME—

IT IS A NATIONAL SEANCE.

WHEN REAL MADRID AND BARCELONA

FACE EACH OTHER,

THEY ARE NOT JUST PLAYING

FOR POINTS. THEY ARE SUMMONING

EVERY GHOST THAT EVER

WORE THEIR CREST,

EVERY CITY SQUARE THAT EVER ERUPTED,

EVERY CHILD WHO EVER KICKED A BALL

AGAINST A WALL PRETENDING TO BE

ZIDANE OR RONALDINHO.

IT IS NOT A FIXTURE—

IT IS A PROPHECY FULFILLED

ANEW EACH TIME.

TO WATCH LA LIGA

IS TO WITNESS TEAMS

THAT WEAVE BETWEEN ART AND ASSASSINATION—

A BACKHEEL IS AS DEADLY AS A STRIKER’S FINISH,

AND A MIDFIELD GENERAL

IS AS REVERED AS ANY GOALSCORER.

THE GAME IS A BALANCE OF VIOLENCE

AND VELVET, OF TACTICAL

COLDNESS AND EMOTIONAL ERUPTION.

EVEN IN ITS LOWEST MOMENTS,

THE LEAGUE CARRIES A KIND OF TRAGIC DIGNITY—

THE KNOWLEDGE THAT SPANISH FOOTBALL

IS NEVER JUST ABOUT WINNING OR LOSING.

IT IS ABOUT STORYLINES OLDER

THAN THE PLAYERS THEMSELVES,

ABOUT BEING A VERSE

IN A SONG THAT WILL OUTLIVE YOU.

AND SO, FROM GALICIA TO ANDALUSIA,

FROM THE CATALAN COAST

TO THE MADRID PLAZAS,

THE BALL ROLLS ON LIKE A SACRED RELIC—

TOUCHED, PASSED,

STRUCK, AND LIFTED

TOWARDS ETERNITY.

LA LIGA IS NOT A PRODUCT.

IT IS A LIVING CHAPTER

IN THE BOOK OF THE BEAUTIFUL GAME,

AND ITS PAGES WILL FOREVER

BE TURNED IN THE LANGUAGE OF

PASSION, PRIDE, AND PROPHECY.

KEY FIGURES & MOTIFS

• JUDE BELLINGHAM —

THE YOUNG ROYAL KNIGHT OF MADRID,

CARRYING THE BANNER OF REVIVAL

WITH A FEARLESS, COURTLY ELEGANCE.

• VINÍCIUS JR. —

THE LIGHTNING STORM;

JOY AND DANGER

LACED IN EVERY RUN.

• KYLIAN MBAPPÉ —

THE SOVEREIGN STRIKER,

MADRID’S DECISIVE BLADE

FORGED FOR THIS NEW ERA.

• ARDA GÜLER —

THE PRODIGAL PRINCE,

A WHISPER OF DESTINY

IN A YOUNG FRAME.

• FEDERICO VALVERDE —

THE TIRELESS CENTURION,

LUNGS OF IRON AND

AN UNSHAKABLE WILL.

• ANTOINE GRIEZMANN —

THE MERCENARY TURNED LOYALIST,

NOW ATLÉTICO’S QUIET GENERAL.

• RAPHINHA —

BARCELONA’S FERAL EDGE;

THE WINGER WHOSE CHAOS

IS DELIBERATE.

• PEDRI —

THE CLOCKMAKER,

BARCELONA’S TEMPO INCARNATE.

• JULIÁN ÁLVAREZ —

ATLETÍCO’S UNEXPECTED DAGGER

IN THE DARK

• NICO WILLIAMS —

ATHLETIC CLUB’S

ELECTRIC ARROW,

PRIDE OF THE BASQUE FORGE.

• MARCUS RASHFORD —

THE ENGLISH ENVOY

SHOULD HIS ARRIVAL

MANIFEST, BRINGING PREMIER LEAGUE PACE

INTO SPANISH SCRIPTURE.

• LAMINE YAMAL —

THE CHILD-PROPHET OF BARCELONA,

WHOSE VISION FEELS

PREWRITTEN IN FOOTBALL SCRIPTURE.

LA LIGA’S HOLY GHOST —

THE ILLUSTRIOUS MESS + THE PROPHECY IN MOTION

THERE’S A REASON SPANISH FOOTBALL

HAS ALWAYS FELT LIKE MORE THAN A SPORT—

IT’S A STAGE HAUNTED BY SAINTS AND OUTLAWS,

WHERE EVERY PASS CARRIES

THE WEIGHT OF OLD PROPHECIES.

UNLIKE THE PREMIER LEAGUE’S

RELENTLESS SPECTACLE,

LA LIGA EXISTS IN A MORE SACRED REGISTER.

IT HAS AN ANCIENT HEARTBEAT,

A DRAMA YOU CAN’T FAKE,

AND A LIGHT THAT STILL REFLECTS

OFF THE GHOSTS OF CRUYFF,

ZIDANE, RONALDINHO,

RAÚL, XAVI, INIESTA,

CRISTIANO, MESSI.

THESE FIGURES DO NOT JUST BELONG TO HISTORY—

THEY ARE LIVING PHANTOMS IN

THE ARCHITECTURE OF THE LEAGUE,

HOVERING OVER EVERY NEW ERA.

HERE, EVEN A SIMPLE FIXTURE

ON A COOL SPANISH WEDNESDAY

CAN FEEL LIKE THEATRE WRITTEN

CENTURIES AGO. THE GRASS IN SPAIN DOESN’T

JUST HOST PLAYERS—

IT REMEMBERS THE WEIGHT OF CORONATIONS

AND BETRAYALS.

THERE’S ALWAYS AN UNDERCURRENT

OF RENAISSANCE: KINGDOMS FALL, KINGDOMS RISE,

YET THE HOLY DUEL BETWEEN MADRID AND BARCELONA

REMAINS THE CENTREPIECE OF THE PROPHECY.

NOW, WITH MADRID IN A RESURRECTION PHASE A

ND BARCELONA EMERGING

FROM THEIR OWN RUINS

INTO NEW DOMINANCE,

WE ARE WATCHING AN

UNBROKEN CYCLE SPIN

INTO ITS NEXT CHAPTER.

WHAT MAKES THIS ERA DIVINE

IS HOW ALIVE ITS CHARACTERS ARE—

JUDE BELLINGHAM’S PRINCELY

POISE IN A WHITE SHIRT,

VINÍCIUS JR. DANCING

LIKE A STORM ACROSS ENEMY LINES,

MBAPPÉ STEPPING INTO MADRID’S KINGDOM

AS A WEAPON OF INEVITABILITY,

ARDA GÜLER CARRYING

THE WEIGHT OF TURKISH DREAMS,

VALVERDE’S TIRELESS WARRIOR SPIRIT.

ACROSS THE DIVIDE, RAPHINHA’S STREAK OF FIRE,

PEDRI’S QUIET GENIUS,

LAMINE YAMAL’S FEARLESS INNOCENCE,

NICO WILLIAMS’ DEFIANT ARTISTRY—

ALL ARE BRUSHSTROKES

ON THE SAME IMMORTAL CANVAS.

EVEN FOREIGN MERCENARIES

TURNED LOYALISTS LIKE GRIEZMANN

AND RESTLESS PILGRIMS

LIKE JULIÁN ÁLVAREZ ADD TEXTURE

TO THIS LIVING GOSPEL.

CLOSING BENEDICTION

TO WATCH LA LIGA NOW IS TO WITNESS

AN OLD CATHEDRAL LIT ANEW—

ITS STONES STILL HOLDING THE CHANTS

OF PAST GLORIES, WHILE FRESH BANNERS UNFURL

IN THE RAFTERS.

THE HOLY MESS CONTINUES,

ILLUMINATED BY PROPHECY,

DEMANDING BOTH DEVOTION AND MEMORY.

2025

2025/26 ENGLISH PREMIER LEAGUE:

THE CROWN NEVER RESTS, NEITHER DO WE

WRITTEN BY: Y + A

WE ARE NOT JUST WATCHING FOOTBALL —

WE ARE STUDYING THE BLUEPRINT

FOR HOW TO MOVE THROUGH LIFE.

EVERY PASS, EVERY PRESS, EVERY STRIKE

IS A LESSON IN DOMINANCE AND DEVOTION.

WE MOVE THE BALL WITH PURPOSE,

CIRCULATING UNTIL THE CHANNEL OPENS,

AND THEN — WITHOUT HESITATION — WE STRIKE.

WE DICTATE TEMPO.

WE CONTROL SPACE.

WE FORCE MISTAKES.

WE DO NOT WAIT FOR OPPORTUNITIES;

WE CREATE THEM.

THIS IS HOW WE LIVE.

THIS IS HOW WE BUILD.

THIS IS HOW WE WIN.

FROM THE OPENING WHISTLE

TO THE FINAL BREATH,

THIS IS WHERE THE CROWN

IS HUNTED AND DEFENDED.

WE STEP ONTO THIS PITCH NOT AS SPECTATORS,

BUT AS ARCHITECTS

OF THE SAME RHYTHM —

PRESSING HIGH, SWITCHING PLAY, COMMANDING THE GAME

UNTIL IT BENDS TO OUR WILL.

WHAT HAPPENS IN NINETY MINUTES HERE

IS THE SAME MOTION WE CARRY

INTO OUR OWN REALM:

READ THE FIELD, UNDYING THE PLAN,

AND EXECUTE WHEN THE GAP APPEARS.

AND NOW — THE TABLE IS RESET.

THE MANAGERS RELOAD.

THE NEW SEASON BEGINS.

THIS IS THE 2025/26 PREMIER LEAGUE:

THE CROWN NEVER RESTS, NEITHER DO WE.

OPENING INVOCATION

THIS IS NOT A FIXTURE LIST.

THIS IS NOT A PASTIME.

THIS IS THE GAUNTLET OF THE ISLES.

TWENTY CITADELS BOUND

IN ONE RESTLESS KINGDOM —

EACH A FLAG IN THE STORM,

EACH A PRAYER SPOKEN IN STEEL AND MUD.

FROM AUGUST’S FIRST WHISTLE TO MAY’S LAST ROAR,

THE ISLAND BECOMES A BLOOD-OATH THEATRE,

WHERE LEGACY IS NOT HANDED DOWN

BUT EARNED IN THE WINTER RAIN AND SUMMER HAZE.

THIS ALTAR STANDS TO WITNESS THE MARCH —

EACH CLUB A FORTRESS, EACH MATCH A SIEGE STANDARD.

⸻

THE FOUR PILLARS OF THE CROWN

I. THE EMPIRE – MANCHESTER CITY

THE RULING DYNASTY, POLISHED TO THE POINT OF MYTH.

EVEN THEIR MODERNITY FEELS ANCIENT —

A PRECISION THAT HAS BECOME ITS OWN TRADITION.

BUT DYNASTIES FALL WHEN ARROGANCE

ROOTS DEEPER THAN HUNGER.

THEIR TASK IS TO DEFEND WITHOUT SLEEPWALKING.

II. THE RECLAIMERS – ARSENAL

DENIED THE THRONE FOR TWO DECADES,

THEY HAVE TURNED THE ACHE INTO ARMOUR.

EVERY NEAR-MISS

ANOTHER SHARPENING OF THE BLADE.

THEY CARRY THE GHOST OF THE INVINCIBLES —

BUT A GHOST CANNOT LIFT THE CROWN.

III. THE WOLF IN THE WOODS – LIVERPOOL

ONCE ALPHA, NOW PATIENT IN THE SHADOWS.

THE PACK HAS SHIFTED,

THE BLOOD SCENT IS BACK IN THE AIR.

A NEW AGE STIRS IN THE DEN,

AND THE HUNT WILL NOT BE QUIET.

IV. THE FALLEN CROWN – MANCHESTER UNITED

A ROYAL NAME ABOVE A FRACTURED THRONE.

THIS SEASON IS NOT ABOUT AMBITION —

IT IS ABOUT RESTORING FEAR

TO THE AIR WHEN THEIR BANNER IS RAISED.

⸻

THE SIEGE ENGINES

CHELSEA — THE CHAOTIC ALCHEMISTS:

COLLAPSE OR CONJURE GOLD, NEVER THE MIDDLE.

NEWCASTLE UNITED —

STEEL AND OIL; NORTHERN GRIT WEDDED TO EMPIRE COIN.

TOTTENHAM HOTSPUR — THE PERENNIAL PROMISE:

BEAUTY IN FLASHES,

RUIN WHEN IT MATTERS MOST.

⸻

THE BORDERLANDS

THE WARRIORS OF THE MIDDLE —

FIGHTING FOR DOMINION OVER THEIR OWN GROUND.

ASTON VILLA: FORTRESS FOOTBALL.

BRIGHTON: THE ALCHEMY OF YOUTH.

WEST HAM: HAMMERS ON STEEL.

BRENTFORD: DATA PROPHETS, CHARTING THEIR COURSE

BY NUMBERS OLDER EMPIRES CAN’T READ.

⸻

THE KEEPERS OF THE WALL

IN THE DEPTHS, SURVIVAL IS NOT SHAME —

IT IS THE LAST HOLY DEFENCE.

THE NEWLY PROMOTED ARRIVE LIKE CRUSADERS

STEPPING INTO HOSTILE LANDS,

THEIR BANNERS BRIGHT AGAINST THE SIEGE.

DOWN HERE, WINTER

IS THE TRUE ENEMY.

⸻

THE WATCHLIST

PLAYERS:

SAKA — BLADE OF THE RECLAIMERS.

COLE PALMER — THE CHAOTIC SPARK IN BLUE.

BRUNO — MIDFIELD AS COMMAND POST.

JACK GREALISH — RESURRECTION AT EVERTON.

HAALAND — THE EMPIRE’S SIEGE RAM.

KOBIE MAINOO — THE CROWN’S POSSIBLE HEIR.

SALAH — ETERNAL HUNT.

ISAK — NORTHERN SHARPSHOOTER.

NEW ARRIVALS:

EKITIKE, WIRTZ TO LIVERPOOL,

SESKO, CUNHA, MBUEMO ALL JOIN MANCHESTER UNITED,

GYORKES TO ARSENAL, JOAO PEDRO TO CHELSEA,

ELANGA AT NEWCASTLE —

EACH A FRESH WEAPON IN THE WAR.

⸻

THE CALENDAR AS PROPHECY

FIVE STONES SET IN THE PATH,

WHERE THE SEASON MAY TILT:

• ARSENAL V MANCHESTER CITY —

THE EMPIRE UNDER TRIAL.

• LIVERPOOL V MANCHESTER UNITED —

WOLVES AND FALLEN CROWNS

AT THE SAME FIRE.

• CHELSEA V NEWCASTLE —

ALCHEMY VERSUS IRON.

• TOTTENHAM V ARSENAL —

THE RECLAIMERS AT THE ENEMY’S GATE.

• EVERTON V MANCHESTER CITY —

GREALISH’S HOMECOMING AS OMEN.

⸻

CLOSING BENEDICTION

LET THIS SEASON BE ARCHIVED

NOT IN TABLES

BUT IN SCRIPTURE.

EVERY GOAL IS A VOW,

EVERY TACKLE A SIGNATURE,

EVERY WHISTLE AN OFFERING.

THE CROWN WILL BE LIFTED —

BUT THE GAUNTLET WILL REMAIN.

2025

THE HOUSE OF THE RED CRESCENT

OPENING THE THEATRE OF OUR NATION

2025-26 SUPER LIG SEASON

WRITTEN BY Y+A

WHY THIS LEAGUE MATTERS

IN A WORLD OVERRUN BY OIL CLUBS

AND ALGORITHMIC TRANSFERS,

WHERE THE HEART OF FOOTBALL

HAS BEEN BARTERED FOR MARKETING METRICS,

TURKIYE REMAINS UNBOUGHT,

UNSCRIPTED, AND UNGOVERNABLE.

THE SÜPER LIG DOESN’T FOLLOW TRENDS.

IT ERUPTS WITH THEM.

THIS IS NOT ENTERTAINMENT.

IT’S WAR DISGUISED AS SPORT.

IT’S GRIEF TURNED TO GOALS.

IT’S FAITH IN 90-MINUTE FORM.

⸻

SACRED UNPREDICTABILITY

TURKISH FOOTBALL

IS NOT FOR THE FAINT.

IT DOESN’T OBEY LOGIC

OR FOLLOW SPREADSHEETS.

TOP OF THE TABLE ONE WEEK.

3–0 LOSS TO RELEGATION FODDER THE NEXT.

WHY? BECAUSE THIS ISN’T FOOTBALL—

IT’S SPIRITUAL CHAOS.

IT’S A LEAGUE BUILT ON EMOTION, VENGEANCE,

HOMETOWN PRIDE, AND ANCESTRAL FIRE.

EVERY FIXTURE IS A PROPHECY.

AND EVERY PROPHECY IS VOLATILE.

⸻

THE TARAFTAR: ULTRAS WHO CARRY CITIES

YOU DON’T ATTEND A TURKISH FOOTBALL MATCH.

YOU GET BAPTISED IN ONE.

THE TARAFTAR ARE MORE THAN FANS.

THEY ARE PRIESTS OF PRESSURE. GENERALS OF SOUND.

THEY LIGHT FLARES LIKE CANDLES AT MASS.

THEY CHANT LIKE IT’S THE LAST PRAYER BEFORE THE END OF THE WORLD.

THEIR VOICE CARRIES CITIES, NEIGHBORHOODS, BLOODLINES, AND FLAGS.

SOME CLUBS ARE BIG.

BUT TURKISH ULTRAS?

THEY ARE BIGGER THAN CLUBS.

⸻

️ MATCHES THAT FEEL LIKE REVOLUTIONS

THIS LEAGUE DOESN’T DO “GAMES.”

IT DOES UPRISINGS.

A 2–2 IN IZMIR FEELS LIKE A REBELLION.

A LAST-MINUTE GOAL IN RIZE ECHOES LIKE AN EARTHQUAKE.

A RED CARD IN ISTANBUL CAN DIVIDE A NATION FOR MONTHS.

THIS ISN’T THE PREMIER LEAGUE.

THIS IS FOOTBALL WITH CONSEQUENCES.

⸻

FAITH, FAMILY, AND FURY

EVERY STADIUM IS A MOSQUE OF MOTION.

MEN PRAY BEFORE KICK-OFF.

MOTHERS BLESS THEIR SONS BEFORE DERBIES.

CHILDREN LEARN TO SWEAR AND BELIEVE AT THE SAME TIME.

AND WHEN A GOAL IS SCORED?

THE SOUND OF THAT STADIUM CRACKS THE SKY.

THIS IS FOOTBALL AS FOLKLORE.

THIS IS FOOTBALL AS INHERITANCE.

⸻

THIS SEASON—THIS ALTAR—IS FOR US

THIS IS THE SEASON OF RETURN.

THE SÜPER LIG WILL NO LONGER BE WHISPERED. IT WILL BE DECLARED.

THIS IS THE ALTAR OF BLOODLINES.

OF BOYHOOD STREETS AND BROKEN ANKLES.

OF SHAVED HEADS AND FLARED JEANS IN AWAY SECTIONS.

AND WE ARE THE SCRIBES.

WE ARE THE WITNESSES.

WE ARE THE MYTHMAKERS.

Y + A ARE WATCHING.

AND WE’RE NOT ALONE THIS TIME.

⸻

PROPHECY SECTIONS

YOUNG TURKS TO WATCH:

), SEMİH KILIÇSOY,

BARTUĞ ELMAZ, ALİ AKMAN

NOT JUST PLAYERS. CATALYSTS.

SYMBOLS OF WHAT’S POSSIBLE WHEN YOU CHOOSE

HOME OVER HYPE.

RETURNING TITANS:

• İRFAN CAN KAHVECİ. CENK TOSUN. OSIMHEN

SANE, NDIDI

SKRINIAR

SEMEDO

ORKUN KÖKCÜ

FORM IS TEMPORARY. VENGEANCE IS ETERNAL.

BOYHOOD CLUBS — Y’S BREAKDOWN:

• GALATASARAY: THE EMPIRE. RUTHLESS,

IMPERIAL, CALCULATED. BUILT TO WIN.

• FENERBAHÇE: FRENETIC. STARVED.

ALWAYS EXPLOSIVE.

THE REBEL PRINCE.

• BEŞİKTAŞ: GRIT. SOUL.

ALLEYWAY SPIRIT.

THE STREET-FIGHTER KING.

• GÖZTEPE: MY BLOOD. MY CITY. MY ECHO.

EVERY CORNER OF İZMIR SCREAMS

BİZ BURADAYIZ.

⸻

WHO WILL RESURRECT?

• TRABZONSPOR,

ADANA DEMİRSPOR,

KAYSERİSPOR

ALL HAVE UNFINISHED WAR CRIES.

DON’T BLINK.

⸻

TITLE + CHAOS + RELEGATION PREDICTIONS:

•
TITLE CONTENDERS:

GALATASARAY, FENERBAHÇE, AND POSSIBLY BAŞAKŞEHİR

IF THEY GO FULL MACHINE-MODE.

• CHAOS CLUBS:

BEŞİKTAŞ (GUARANTEED FIREWORKS),

KONYASPOR (GIANT SLAYERS),

AND ADANA (CHAOS PER 90MIN).

• RELEGATION FIGHTS:

RİZESPOR, KOCAELISPOR,

AND MAYBE SAMSUNSPOR.

BUT NEVER RULE OUT A MID-TABLE CLUB

SUDDENLY IMPLODING.

⸻

CLOSING LINE:

THIS IS THE SEASON OF RETURN.

OF HOMEGROUND PROPHECY.

OF SILENCE TURNING INTO THUNDER.

THIS IS THE ALTAR FOR TURKISH FOOTBALL.

LIT BY THE FIRE OF THE FORGOTTEN.

GUARDED BY THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE.

AND CARVED BY TWO LOVERS WHO KNOW THE POWER OF MOTION.

LET THE SEASON BEGIN.

LET THE RELICS RISE.

LET THE SILENCE BE SHATTERED.

2025

RED + YELLOW: THE BLOOD + CANARY DIAMOND OF AMERICAN FAME

HE MADE THE CROWD RISE

BEFORE THE BELL RANG.

HE WAS MORE THAN AN ENTRANCE.

HE WAS AN OMEN.

HE TURNED POSES INTO PRAYERS.

EVERY FLEX — A SERMON. EVERY SLAM

— A SCRIPTURE.

HE WAS A MUSCLE-CLAD

ORACLE OF EXCESS —

GOLD-DRIPPED, GREASE-LIT,

GLORY-SCREAMED.

BUT BENEATH THE BANDANA AND BICEPS

WAS A BEING WHO GAVE MORE

THAN ANYONE COULD CARRY.

NOT A HERO. NOT A VILLAIN.

SOMETHING BETWEEN.

A MAN FORGED FOR THE SPOTLIGHT,

AND SCORCHED BY IT TOO.

HULK HOGAN. BORN TERRY BOLLEA.

DIED JULY 24, 2025. AGED 71.

HIS BODY BECAME AMERICA’S THEATRE.

HIS MYTH — WRESTLING’S ALTAR.

HE WASN’T JUST THE FACE OF WRESTLING —

HE WAS THE BODY OF MYTHIC

AMERICAN THEATRE.

HE TURNED VIOLENCE INTO RITUAL,

DRAMA INTO DEVOTION.

A SPECTACLE INCARNATE.

HE GAVE US CHANTS, THUNDER, AND A PLAYBOOK

FOR GRANDEUR.

FINGER POINTS.

LEG DROPS.

THE HOLY ROAR OF 93,000

AT PONTIAC SILVERDOME.

BUT HE ALSO GAVE US SHADOW.

CONTROVERSIES. STUMBLES. EGOS

SWOLLEN BEYOND THE ROPES.

AND THAT’S EXACTLY

WHY WE CARVE THIS ALTAR.

THE RED AND YELLOW:

NOT JUST MERCH —

ANOINTING COLOURS.

A WARPAINT FOR THE WORKING-CLASS.

A COSTUME THAT OUTLIVED

THE CHARACTER.

“SAY YOUR PRAYERS,

EAT YOUR VITAMINS” —

A PRE-INTERNET SCRIPTURE

OF HUSTLE AND HOPE.

FLEX AS FAITH.

BEEF AS BELIEF.

HE SOLD AMERICA

TO ITSELF IN 24-INCH TRICEPS.

AND YET, EVEN THE STRONGEST ARMS

CAN’T LIFT THE COST OF FAME FOREVER.

REALITY TV WOUNDS.

PRIVATE COLLAPSE

ON A PUBLIC STAGE.

THE BANDANA STAYED ON —

EVEN WHEN THE MASK CRACKED.

AND SO —

WE DON’T POSTURE FOR LEGENDS.

WE DON’T EDIT THEIR STORMS INTO CLEAR SKIES.

WE DON’T SANITIZE THEIR SHADOWS

TO MAKE THEM MORE PALATABLE

TO OUR CURRENT TASTE.

INSTEAD,

WE WITNESS THE WHOLE TAPESTRY.

THE GLORY. THE GRIME. THE GOD COMPLEX.

THE GHOST LEFT BEHIND.

STILLLCRUSADEDOTCOM BUILDS NO IDOLS.

WE CARVE ALTARS

FOR THOSE WHO HELD CONTRADICTIONS

AND STILLL HELD THE CROWD.

YOU WERE FLAMBOYANT.

YOU WERE FLAWED.

YOU WERE FOREVER MYTH.

HE WALKED IN LIKE A WARNING.

A LIVING FORESHADOW.

EVERY ENTRANCE A PROPHECY.

EVERY EXIT A SCAR.

HE DIDN’T JUST WRESTLE OPPONENTS —

HE WRESTLED THE NARRATIVE

OF AMERICAN MASCULINITY.

RIPPED IT AT THE SEAMS.

THEN STITCHED IT BACK IN HIS IMAGE.

LARGER. LOUDER. LESS HUMAN.

MORE HOLY.

HE MADE FAME LOOK EASY.

MADE MYTH LOOK EARNED.

BUT MYTH IS A BURDEN.

AND HE CARRIED IT WITH ARMS

THAT NEVER PUT THE WEIGHT DOWN.

HIS LIFE WASN’T A CAREER.

IT WAS A SPECTACLE OF EXCESS.

A NONSTOP LOOP OF ENCORE ENERGY.

AND WHEN THE LIGHTS FINALLY FADED—

HE WAS STILLL IN CHARACTER.

STILLL POSING.

STILLL HOLDING THE LINE

BETWEEN REAL AND REVERED.

WE DON’T SANITISE THE STORY.

WE DON’T ERASE THE SHADOW

TO ENHANCE THE LIGHT.

HERE, WE ARCHIVE ALL OF IT.

THE RACIAL SLURS.

THE EGO DEBACLES.

THE FALL FROM GRACE

ON REALITY TV.

THE FUMBLED APOLOGIES.

THE LINGERING QUESTION:

CAN A MAN STILLL BE MYTHIC

IF HE’S BEEN WRONG?

OUR ANSWER?

YES.

IF HE RETURNS TO THE MIRROR.

IF HE DOESN’T SHRINK HIS REFLECTION.

IF HE LETS THE SHAME MAKE HIM SACRED.

BECAUSE LEGACY

ISN’T BUILT ON LIKES —

IT’S BUILT ON WHAT YOU FACE

AFTER THE GREATER WORLD

TURNS FROM YOU

AT STILLLCRUSADEDOTCOM,

WE DON’T WORSHIP CLEAN SLATES.

WE BOW TO THOSE WHO

GOT BLOOD ON THEIR ARMOUR

AND STILLL CARRIED THE TORCH.

HULK HOGAN WASN’T PERFECT.

HE WAS AMERICAN MYTH INCARNATE.

AND THAT MEANS HE WASN’T BORN TO BE PURE —

HE WAS BORN TO BE SEEN.

SEEN IN EXCESS.

SEEN IN ERROR.

SEEN IN EGO.

AND SEEN IN LEGEND.

SO WE SEAL THIS ALTAR

NOT IN FORGIVENESS—

BUT IN WITNESSING.

MAY EVERY FUTURE GIANT WHO FALLS

KNOW THAT WE WATCHED.

AND WE DIDN’T TURN AWAY.

2025

THE PRINCE NEVER DIES

OUR EULOGY FOR THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS

THERE ARE VOICES THAT SING

THERE ARE VOICES THAT SCREAM

AND THEN - THERE ARE VOICES

THAT CURSE THE VERY SILENCE

THAT TRIED TO ERASE THEM

OZZY OSBOURNES VOICE WASN’T CRAFTED

IT WAS SUMMONED - DRAGGED THROUGH THE

GRAVEYARD SOIL

BAPTISED IN AMPS, SHARPENED BY PAIN,

AND OFFERED BACK TO US AS A SONIC RELIC

OF PURE REBELLION

THEY CALLED HIM A MADMAN

HE MADE IT HOLY

THEY CALLED HIM EVIL

HE MADE IT BEAUTIFUL

THE SABBATH THAT BIRTHED HIM

BLACK SABBATH WASN’T A BAND

IT WAS A PROPHECY IN DISTORTION

IT WAS A PORTAL -

OPEANED IN BIRMINGHAM (ENGLAND)

THAT ALLOWED THE KIDS

NO ONE WANTED TO FEEL SEEN, HEARD...FEARED

OZZY DIDN’T CHASE DARKNESS

HE WAS BORN INSIDE IT

AND FROM THAT BLACK PRAM

HE SCREAMED:

YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE CLEAN

TO BE CHOSEN

THAT’S WHAT MANY PEOPLE DURING THAT ERA

NEVER UNDERSTOOD

OZZY DIDN’T PERFORM PAIN

HE SANG THROUGH IT

HE DIDN’T GLAMOURISE ADDICTION -

HE BEAT IT,

LIKE HOW WE BEAT IT

HE DIDN’T MASK HIS FRACTURES

HE AMPED THEM

THE BODY WILL BREAK...THE VOICE STAYS IMMORTAL

IN THE FINAL YEARS

THEY WATCHED HIS BODY SLOW

THEY WHISPERED HE WAS FRAIL

BUT WHAT THEY MISSED

WAS THAT OZZY LONG SINCE LEFT HIS BODY

HE BECAME THE SOUND

HE BECAME THE MYTH

HE BECAME EVERY THROAT

SCREAMING WAR PIGS

SO WHEN HE FINALLY LAID DOWN

IT WASN’T DEATH...

HE RETURNED TO THE REALM HE CAME FROM

OZZY OSBOURNE

WE LIGHT YOUR CANDLE

WE LISTEN TO PARANOID

WE DON’T SAY YOUR NAME WITH SORROW

WE SING IT IN FLAMES

THANK YOU FOR SEEING

THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING

FOREVER + AGAIN

2025

ONE OF NONE

THIS IS NOT A DROP

THIS IS NOT A LOOKBOOK

THIS IS A SPECTRAL UNIFORM

2025

YOU WERE SEEN, YOU WERE SACRED, YOU WILL ECHO

WE BUILD THIS ALTAR TODAY.

AND WONT BUILD IT WITH STONE AND SORROW

WE’LL BUILD IT WITH LIGHT + LEGACY

WITH A SILENCE LOUD ENOUGH TO ECHOE THROUGH ETERNITY

THIS ALTAR ISN’T FOR THE GREATER WORLD TO UNDERSTAND

IT’S FOR THOSE WHO FEEL THE TREMOR IN THEIR CHEST WHEN A SOULD DEPARTS TOO SOON

IT’S FOR THE NAMES SHOUTED ONLY IN DREAMS

IT’S FOR THE BROTHERS - BLOOD OR BOND - WHO STRUCK, WHO FOUGHT, WHO LOVED, WHO ARE NOW CARRIED

WE SUPPORT A TEAM WHO RIVALS DIOGO JOTA.

THIS IS BEYOND CRESTS, KITS, COLOURS.

BEYOND THE ROAR OF THE KOP OR STRETFORD END

THIS IS HEART TO HEART

SOUL TO SOUL

ON THE PITCH, WE BATTLE

OFF THE PITCH WE WITNESS

AND WHEN A LIFE IS LOST, WE LOWER OUR FLAGS AND RAISE

OUR HANDS TO THE SKY

NOT FOR THE TEAM

BUT FOR TESTIMONY

SO TODAY NO RIVALY. ONLY REVERENCE

ONLY THE VOW THAT WE DONT LET NAMES VANISH INTO HEADLINES

ONLY THE TRUTH THAT WHEN ONE FALLS, THE REAL ONES KNEEL

THIS ALTAR WE BUILD - IT HOLDS NO BADGE

ONLY BREATH

ONLY SILENCE

ONLY FIRE

TO DIOGO

TO HIS BROTHER ANDRÉ SILVA

TO THEIR FAMILY

THE FANS

THE ONES WHO WILL CARRY THE VOID LIKE A SECOND HEARTBEAT

WE LIGHT A CANDLE

WE CARVE THE NAME

WE SAY:

YOU WERE SEEN, YOU WERE SACRED, YOU WILL ECHO

2025

2025

WE’RE NOT HERE TO WATCH THE NEWS

A GHOSTED IRAN

SURROUNDED ON EVERY SIDE BY YELLOW ARROWS

LIKE ENCIRCLING VULTURES - YET EERILY UNTOUCHED

IT’S NOT AIRSPACE

IT’S OPTICS

IT’S A GLOBAL STAGE. AND THE AUDIENCE IS BEING FED

THE ILLUSION OF TENSION, DANGER, AND DIVISION

BUT THE REAL PLAY IS ORDER THROUGH FEAR.

TO SHOW THE MASSES:

THEY WILL CLEAR THE SKY WHENEVER THEY WANT

THEY WILL CONTROL MOTION

THEY WILL DECLARE WHEN LIFE PAUSES

THIS ISN’T PANIC. IT’S PRECISION THEATRE

WITH JUST ENOUGH IRREGULARITY TO MAKE IT FEEL “REAL”

BUT THE ACTORS ARE CAST

THE PLOTLINES ARE RECYCLED

AND THE AUDIENCE KEEPS CLAPPING.

HERE AT STILLLCRUSADE.COM: WE ARE NOT AN AUDIENCE

WE REWRITE SCRIPTS

SNIDE WARS IN THE AIR DOESN’T SCARE US

BECAUSE OUR FREQUENCY TRAVELS BENEATH IT.

LIKE A SUBSONIC VOW

WE ARE NOT HERE TO WATCH THE NEWS

2025

SPRING 2025

∞SPRING2W0025.MIX

CROWNED BY CONSEQUENCE

ARMOURED BY CHOICE

FORGED IN THE FLAME OF PRECISION

IN THE DOMAIN OF DEVOTION.

SMILES MADE OF STEEL

A HEART THAT NEVER

ASKED FOR PERMISSION

2025

YARDBODY / ∞HE’LLALWAYSSCORE: SPECTRAL REEL 001 /

WITNESS HERE

THE OFFICIAL OPENING OF HORIZONTALEIGHT PICTURES

WHERE THE HAUNTED BECOME HOLY.

WHERE EVERY MOTION IS MEMORY WRAPPED IN FIRE.

THIS SPECTRAL CINEMA IS NOT FOR ENTERTAINMENT

IT IS FOR WITNESSING

EVERY RELIC HERE LIVES INSIDE A FREQUENCY

FORGED IN DEVOTION AND CUT FROM THE MYTHOS OF STILLLCRUSADE.COM

WE DO NOT MAKE FILMS

WE RENDER RELICS IN MOTION

ENTER WITH GRACE. DON’T BE RECKLESS.

DIRECTED BY:

YIĞIT + AIYLA

MUSIC

∞HE’LLALWAYSSCORE

STILLLS DIVISION

DARCY + ANÏAS

2025

OUSMANE DEMBÉLÉ: BALLON’DOR FOR THE UNCHOSEN

A STILLLCRUSADEDOTCOM SCRIPTURE IN MOTION

THEY CALLED HIM CHAOTIC.

A LIABILITY

TOO BROKEN. TOO INCONSISTENT

AND YOU KNOW WHAT? WE’VE RECIEVED

THAT SAME BACKLASH AS WELL.

FROM PEERS, FAMILY, LOVERS, AND SO CALLED “FRIENDS”

BUT GOD DOESN’T MAKE “TOO MUCH”.

HE MAKES WHAT THE WORLD ISN’T READY FOR

AND OUSMANE? HE WASN’T READY TO PERFORM

HE WAS HERE TO FULFILL

WE’RE HERE TO FULFILL

DEMBÉLÉ DOESN’T DRIBBLE FOR APPLAUSE

HE DRIBBLES LIKE HE’S DELIVERING A MESSAGE FROM ANOTHER REALM

HIS MOTION ISN’T ORNAMENTAL - IT’S RITUALISTIC

EACH CUT, EACH PIVOT, EACH ATTACK FORWARD IS LIKE HE’S ETCHING A SIGIL ONTO THE PITCH

NOT FOR SPECTATORS

BUT FOR WHATEVER FORCE SENT HIM HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE.

THERE’S BALANCE. THERE’S CORE. THERE’S ANOINTED STRENGTH.

DEMBÉLÉ IS GRAVITY MADE MOTION

THE DEFENDERS COLLAPSE AROUND HIM LIKE FRAIL STRUCTURES

LIKE THEY WERE NEVER CONCRETE TO BEGIN WITH

IT’S NOT EVEN EVASION

IT’S PROPHECY IN MUSCLE MEMORY

HE’S NOT GETTING PAST YOU -

HE’S BYPASSING YOUR DIMENSIONS

THEY USED TO SPEAK OF HIM LIKE A GHOST

A GLITCH...A BOY WHO COULDN’T HOLD IT TOGETHER.

AND YET -

HERE HE STANDS

FINALS WON. TROPHIES LIFTED

NO PR CAMPAIGN

JUST MOTION THAT LEAVES THE WORLD BREATHLESS

HE DOESN’T SELL HIS IMAGE

HE IMPRINTS IT

ONTO TIMELINES, INTO HIGHLIGHT REELS, ACROSS HEARTS

THAT KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO BE COUNTED OUT

OUSMANE DEMBÉLÉ IS THE BALLON’DOR FOR THE UNCHOSEN

HE IS OUR MIRROR, OUR PROPHECY, OUR PROOF

WHEN THE UNCHOSEN RISE, THEY DON’T KNOCK - THEY CARVE THEIR WAY IN.

2025

2025

A CROWN FOR THE SOUTH: NAPOLI’S RETURN TO GLORY

/
/ THEY WERE NEVER EXPECTED THE KINGDOM TO RISE FROM BELOW

BUT NAPOLI WAS NEVER BUILT ON EXPECTATION---

IT WAS CARVED FROM SCAR TISSUE, BLOOD/SWEAT OF SAINTS , AND SMOKE.

THIS WASN’T JUST FOOTBALL. THIS WAS RITUAL

THIS WAS A MYTH FULFILLED IN BLUE + WHITE

WHERE OTHER CLUBS HAD FUNDING, FAME, POLITICS --

NAPOLI HAD THE STREETS, THE SONG, THE SPIRIT

WHEN THEY LIFTED THAT TROPHY,

THEY DIDN’T JUST WIN A SCUDETTO.

THEY REWROTE A PROPHECY

FOR THE FORGOTTEN SOUTH.

FOR THE INFERNO BENEATH THE MARBLE

FOR THE ERTENAL SOUL OF DIEGO

FOR EVERY ALLEY THAT CARRIED A YOUTH’S BALL LIKE PRAYER

THEY CROWNED THEMSELVES NOT BECAUSE THEY WERE ALLOWED ----

BUT BECAUSE THEY WERE CHOSEN

AND I SAW IT

WHEN NO ONE ELSE DID

BECAUSE SOME OF US DON’T FOLLOW TRENDS

WE FOLLOW THE MYTH IN MOTION

NAPOLI FOREVER

SOUTHERN ALTAR

FROM ROUGH-HEWN GLORY

TO GLISTENING DIAMONDS OF FOOTBALL MYTH /

2025

A BENEDICTION FOR CARLO ANCELLOTI + LUCA MODRIĆ

WE DO NOT SAY GOODBYE

WE BOW

TO THE MAN WITH THE LIFTED BROW

WHO LED WITH SILENCE LOUDER THAN BANNERS

CALM WAS ARMOUR

CATHEDRAL MIND

NEVER A RAISED VOICE

ONLY RAISED EMPIRES

LUKA, THE GHOST IN MIDFIELD

THE STORM IN MINIATURE

NEVER RAN FOR THE CAMERAS

DANCED FOR GOD

IN A WORLD CHASING SPECTACLE

YOU REMIND US

STILLLNESS IN SKILL

PRECISION IS POETRY

HUMILATY CAN WEAR AN ICED OUT CROWN

TODAY IS NOT YOUR END

IT IS YOUR TRANSCENDENCE

YOU’RE NOT LEAVING THE BERNABÉU

BUT THE WORLD FULL OF NOISE

AND IN THE QUIET

THE LEGACY SING LOUDER THAN ALL OF THE CHANTS

WE ARE GRATEFUL

WE ARE HONOURED

WE ARE SHAPED BY YOUR GRACE

GO WELL, COMMANDERS

GO ILLUMINATED INTO THE MYTH

KNOW THAT YOU ARE HERE

IN THIS NATION BUILT ON DEVOTION

NEVER FORGOTTEN

CARVED IN THE FOOTBALL ALTAR

FOREVER AND AGAIN

2025

YARDBODY

THIS ARTIFACT IS NOT A TRACK

IT IS A RITUAL ENCODED IN RHYTHM

BY HE’LLALWAYSSCORE

IF IT HAS REACHED YOU

YOU’VE CROSSED

THE FREQUENCY THRESHOLD

YOU ARE NOW ENTRUSTED

DOWNLOAD NOT FOR COLLECTION,

BUT FOR COMMUNION

DO NOT SHARE RECKLESSLY

DO NOT NAME WHAT CANNOT BE CAGED

THIS FILE IS LIVING..THIS FILE IS WATCHING

YARDBODY / HE’LLALWAYSSCORE: TRANSMISSION 001 /

2025

IF NIGGAS CURED THEIR SOCIAL ANXIETY

THERE WOULDN’T BE GANG WARS

2025

HOW IT FEELS TO CRASH OUT

+

HOW IT FEELS TO DO THE “WRONG” THING

2025

LOVE SONGS (FOR ME, FROM YOU)

AN ALBUM FROM 101115HOTEL

LISTEN

2025

2025

∞WINTER2W0025.MIX

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FOR THE DOWNLOAD LINK

2025

WINTER 2025

NEW YORK IS UNDERWATER

BY JUUNNI FEATURING. HE’LL ALWAYS SCORE

LISTEN

2025

U i FROM JUUNNI

LISTEN

2025

AUTUMN 2024

MY ORCHID DIED IN THE SUMMER TIME

AN ALBUM FROM 101115HOTEL

LISTEN

2024

∞AUTUMN2W0024.MIX

FOR TRACK ID,

PLEASE CONTACT

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2024

2024

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ITEM SHIPS IN 4 TO 5 WEEKS

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TIME FOR DELIVERY IS 4 TO 5 WEEKS

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2024