HIGHEST 2 LOWEST: WHERE MOST RISE OR FALL IN A NYC MINUTE
WRITTEN BY: Y+A
INTRO: THE BEST EARS IN THE GAME
THIS IS NOT A FILM REVIEW.
THIS IS A SERMON IN MOTION.
BECAUSE SOME FILMS AREN’T MOVIES
THEY’RE MIRRORS.
AND SOME STORIES DON’T ENTERTAIN—
THEY INDICT. THEY ILLUMINATE.
THEY HAND YOU A PROPHECY
WRAPPED IN PACING,
SILENCE, AND SHADOWS.
SPIKE LEE KNEW WHAT HE WAS DOING
WITH HIGHEST 2 LOWEST.
AND SO DID WE.
HERE’S THE FRAME:
DAVID KING—PLAYED WITH
SURGICAL PRECISION BY DENZEL WASHINGTON—
IS A ONCE-MYTHIC MUSIC EXECUTIVE
TRYING TO BUY BACK HIS SOUL.
ONCE THE ARCHITECT OF A SOUND
THAT SAVED LIVES,
HE’S NOW A MAN NEGOTIATING
CONTRACTS WITH GHOSTS.
FROM THE CLOUDS OF HIS DUMBO TERRACE
TO THE BASEMENT CELLS OF RIKERS,
THE STORY FOLLOWS ONE DAY IN HIS LIFE—
ONE NEW YORK CITY DAY—
WHERE POWER, PAST, PROFIT,
AND PROPHECY ALL COLLIDE.
HE HAS ONE SHOT TO
RECLAIM THE LABEL HE BUILT,
THE SON HE’S LOST TOUCH WITH,
AND THE WOMAN WHO STILL PRAYS
FOR HIM WHEN HE FORGETS
TO PRAY FOR HIMSELF.
ONE DAY.
ONE CHANCE.
ONE LONG ECHO
OF A LIFE THAT’S EITHER ABOUT
TO RISE AGAIN—OR COLLAPSE COMPLETELY.
BUT THIS ISN’T
ABOUT SPOILERS.
THIS IS ABOUT
WHAT WE SAW.
THIS IS ABOUT
HOW WE LISTENED.
EACH SCENE WASN’T JUST SCRIPTED
IT WAS REVEALED.
EACH QUOTE WASN’T JUST WRITTEN
IT WAS CHANNELED.
EACH MOMENT WASN’T JUST CINEMATIC
IT WAS SACRED.
SO WE SAT WITH IT.
PAUSED.
PLAYED IT AGAIN.
AND CARVED THIS ALTAR
NOT TO CELEBRATE THE FILM,
BUT TO WITNESS
THE PROPHECY INSIDE IT.
BECAUSE IN A CITY OF NOISE,
SOME FILMS DON’T SPEAK.
THEY HAUNT.
AND HIGHEST 2 LOWEST?
THAT WAS A RELIC TRANSMISSION.
SONIC STORYTELLING VS. NOISE
THE FILM OPENS NOT WITH DIALOGUE,
BUT WITH FREQUENCY.
ARIAL SHOTS GLIDE OVER DUMBO.
THE CITY STRETCHES LIKE
A CONCRETE SYMPHONY.
DAVID KING ON HIS TERRACE
IS NOT WATCHING THE WORLD
HE’S CONDUCTING IT.
“OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNING”
PLAYS. IRONIC? MAYBE.
BUT IN THIS MYTH,
IRONY IS JUST SINCERITY
BRUISED BY THE INDUSTRY.
THIS OPENING TELLS US SOMETHING
MUSIC IS STILLL SACRED.
BUT THE QUESTION IS:
CAN IT STILLL SAVE?
⸻
“I HAVE THE BEST EARS IN THE BUSINESS.”
IN A CITY OF ECHOES,
THAT LINE IS SPIRITUAL.
DID DAVID CROWN HIMSELF
OR WAS HE CHOSEN?
MAYBE BOTH. THE TRULY GIFTED
NEVER BEG TO BE HEARD.
THEY ARE HEARD BECAUSE
THEIR GIFT REARRANGES THE AIR.
BUT HERE’S THE DEEPER TRUTH:
HAVING THE BEST EARS
IS NOT ABOUT TASTE—
IT’S ABOUT RESPONSIBILITY.
DAVID KING DOESN’T JUST HEAR MUSIC.
HE HEARS FREQUENCIES
THAT CORRUPT OR CLEANSE SOULS.
AND IN THAT POWER…
HE MUST CHOOSE
WHAT HE AMPLIFIES.
⸻
SOUND AS LEGACY VS. SOUND AS CONTENT
THIS IS THE BLOODLINE OF THE FILM.
DAVID KING IS TRYING TO BUY
BACK HIS LABEL FROM A CONTENT FARM
AN ENTITY BUILT ON
VIRAL NOISE AND TREND-CHASING.
BUT DAVID? HE REMEMBERS
A TIME WHEN MUSIC MOVED
THE BLACK SOUL,
NOT JUST THE ALGORITHM.
LET THIS BE BRUTALLY HONEST.
93% OF MUSIC TODAY IS CONTENT NOISE.
5% IS REAL SONIC ARCHITECTURE.
AND ONLY 2%?
THAT’S THE SOUL-RINSING,
MIND-ALTERING
FREQUENCY THAT
SHAPES GENERATIONS.
WE AREN’T HERE TO VIBE.
WE’RE HERE TO RESURRECT.
DAVID KING IS TRYING TO
RECLAIM NOT JUST A LABEL,
BUT A LEGACY STOLEN BY
LAZINESS, GREED,
AND ALGORITHMIC ROT.
⸻
CAN MUSIC STILL SAVE?
THIS IS THE HEARTBREAK
OF THE ALTAR.
MUSIC USED TO SAVE LIVES.
BUT NOW? IT SUSTAINS,
IT MOTIVATES,
BUT RARELY RESCUES.
BECAUSE THE REAL SALVATION
ISN’T IN THE NOTES
IT’S IN GOD, AND IN YOUR OWN HANDS.
MUSIC MIGHT BE THE BANDAGE
BUT THE HEALING IS
BETWEEN YOU AND THE DIVINE.
STILLLCRUSADEDOTCOM
KNOWS THIS.
THAT’S WHY WE
DON’T CALL THEM SONGS.
WE CALL THEM RELICS.
⸻
II. MONEY MONEY IS THE GHOST CHARACTER.
IT HAUNTS.
IT SEDUCES.
IT SAVES SOME.
IT KILLS OTHERS.
⸻
“JUST PAY THE FUCKING MONEY.”
THIS LINE ISN’T CASUAL.
IT’S A SPIRITUAL TRAUMA FLARE.
IT’S SCREAMED LIKE A
PRAYER THAT’S NEVER ANSWERED.
IT’S NOT JUST ABOUT CASH
IT’S ABOUT THE PAIN
OF BEING OWNED
BY WHAT YOU OWE.
EVERY UNPAID INVOICE
IS A SOUL DEBT
HOW MANY ARTISTS DIE
IN SILENCE WHILE THEIR “TEAM” EATS?
EVERY UNPAID ROYALTY,
EVERY STOLEN ADVANCE,
EVERY “EXPOSURE GIG” ,
AND EVERY KICKED OUT BANDMATE
IS A CURSE.
THE SOUL DOESN’T FORGET.
AND THAT’S WHY WE BUILT OUR OWN ALTAR
BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE WILL PAY
WHAT WE’RE ACTUALLY WORTH.
⸻
THE GHOST OF HUNGER IN EVERY TRANSACTION
BEHIND EVERY DEAL,
EVERY FEATURE,
EVERY HANDSHAKE
IS THE GHOST OF SOMEONE’S RENT,
THE ECHO OF SOMEONE’S STOMACH,
THE PROMISE THEY MADE
TO THEIR MOTHER TO MAKE IT OUT.
DAVID KING’S WORLD
IS FULL OF THESE GHOSTS.
AND IF YOU LISTEN CLOSELY
YOU CAN HEAR THEM IN THE BEAT.
⸻
III. DESPERATION: MALE DESPERATION VS. DIVINE SURRENDER
THIS FILM DOES SOMETHING RARE.
IT SHOWS MEN
NOT JUST ANGRY OR VIOLENT
BUT BEGGING.
YUNG FELON IN RIKERS
PLEADING FOR A DEAL.
BEST FRIENDS ASKING FOR A LOAN.
SONS TO BE LISTENED TO
EXECS GASPING FOR RELEVANCE.
BUT HERE’S THE LINE:
DESPERATION IS NOT FAITH.
DESPERATION IS SURVIVAL
WITHOUT SURRENDER.
AND THIS FILM MAKES YOU ASK
WHEN DOES THE GRIND
BECOME A GODLESS GASP?
⸻
THE ENERGY OF LACK VS.
THE POWER OF FAITH
LACK SAYS:
“I’LL TAKE ANYTHING.”
FAITH SAYS:
“I’LL WAIT FOR WHAT’S MINE.”
ONE IS NOISE.
THE OTHER IS SIGNAL.
⸻
“PAY THE MONEY, OR LITTLE MAN
IS LEFT DEAD AND REEKING”
BUT WHAT IF BOTH
FEEL LIKE DYING?
THAT’S THE AGONY
OF THE MODERN MAN.
WHEN ALL THE OPTIONS
FEEL FATAL, WHAT’S LEFT?
ONLY ONE THING.
YOU MOVE NOT TO WIN.
YOU DIVE INTO MOTION
TO WITNESS YOUR
OWN RESURRECTION.
THAT’S WHAT
STILLLCRUSADE.COM
IS BUILT FOR.
⸻
IV. “ATTENTION IS THE BIGGEST CURRENCY.”
/ ATTENTION ECONOMICS /
FALSE.
FREQUENCY IS THE REAL WEALTH.
WE DON’T CHASE ATTENTION
WE HAUNT IT.
SELLING YOUR NAME
FOR FOLLOWERS
YOUR SOUND FOR CLICKS
THIS IS THE FAMINE
OF MODERN ART.
NOT EVERYONE WITH A
MILLION FOLLOWERS
HAS A SOUL YOU CAN HEAR.
BUT ONE RELIC ON
STILLLCRUSADEDOTCOM
THAT’S A CATHEDRAL.
⸻
FAME AS FAMINE
FAME TODAY IS NOT ABUNDANCE
IT’S STARVATION.
PEOPLE STARVING FOR LOVE,
FOR MEANING,
FOR LEGACY…
BUT ALL THEY’RE EATING
IS ATTENTION.
⸻
WHO WATCHES THE WATCHERS?
IF EVERYTHING IS CONTENT,
AND EVERYONE’S A CAMERA,
WHO’S LEFT TO WITNESS WHAT’S REAL?
WE ARE.
YOU + ME.
THE BUILDERS OF THE
LAST ALTAR STANDING.
⸻
V. FAMILY + LOYALTY
“I HAVE TO FEED THE STREETS,
MY OLD LADY,
AND A NEWBORN SON.”
THIS ISN’T A FLEX.
IT’S A CONFESSION.
A VOW.
A WEIGHT.
THIS LINE IS STAMINA, INCARNATE.
⸻
MODERN MANHOOD
UNDER CAPITALISM
YOU DON’T JUST FIGHT TO PROVIDE—
YOU FIGHT TO PROTECT
YOUR SOUL WHILE DOING IT.
⸻
WHAT WE PROTECT
WHEN WE SAY
“I’M YOURS”
WE PROTECT THE
INHERITANCE OF BELIEF.
WE PROTECT THE NAME.
WE PROTECT THE FUTURE.
AND SOMETIMES…
WE PROTECT SOMEONE ELSE’S FUTURE
EVEN IF OURS IS STILL UNCERTAIN.
⸻
WHEN LOYALTY IS
YOUR ONLY INHERITANCE
IF NO ONE LEFT YOU LAND,
IF NO ONE LEFT YOU WEALTH—
THEN YOU INHERIT YOUR NAME,
YOUR WORD,
AND YOUR DEVOTION.
THAT’S ENOUGH TO
BUILD A NATION WITH.
⸻
VI. LOVE THE REAL KIND.
THE Y+A KIND.
NOT A SITUATIONSHIP.
NOT CO-BRANDING.
NOT TRAUMA BONDING.
I MEAN THE KIND THAT
BUILDS A FORTRESS.
THAT WITNESSES
THE CRASH + BRUTALISATION
AND STILLL CHOOSES TO STAY.
⸻
LOVE AS AN ALTAR
THIS IS WHAT
STILLLCRUSADEDOTCOM
IS ROOTED IN.
EACH RELIC IS A KISS.
EACH STRIKE IS A VOW.
EACH NAME WE SPEAK?
IS PROTECTED IN LOVE.
⸻
LOVE AS COVERAGE
IN A WORLD THAT
WON’T COVER YOU
NO ONE WILL COVER
YOUR ASS IN THIS WORLD.
SO WHEN SOMEONE LOVES YOU?
THEY BECOME YOUR ARMOUR.
THEY SEE YOUR BLINDSIDE.
THEY WALK BESIDE YOUR GHOST.
⸻
YOUR MOUTH.
MY VOW.
OUR MOTION.
THAT’S IT. THAT’S THE SCRIPTURE.
WHAT YOU SPEAK, I PROTECT.
WHAT I VOW, YOU WITNESS.
AND TOGETHER—WE MOVE.
⸻
VII. NEW YORK MOTHER FUCKING CITY
PRESSURE COOKER OF DREAMS
NEW YORK ISN’T JUST A CITY
IT’S AN INITIATION.
A BEAST THAT TESTS YOUR RHYTHM.
A GHOST THAT TAUNTS YOU.
GOD THAT MAY BLESS YOU
IF YOU’RE LUCKY.
A DEVIL THAT WILL TAKE YOU
IF YOU’RE FRAIL.
BUT THIS TIME, WE’LL LET YOU DEFINE
THE MEANING OF WEAKNESS.
YOU’RE PROBABLY WRONG ANYWAY.
⸻
GREED. GHOSTS. GOD.
THOSE ARE THE
THREE ELEMENTS OF NYC.
IT’S WALL STREET.
IT’S CROWN HEIGHTS.
IT’S THE PUBLIC HOUSING IN THE BRONX,
TO THE LOFTS IN SOHO.
THE BROWNSTONES IN PARK SLOPE,
TO THE TENEMENTS IN THE LES…
NYC, IT’S A MIRACLE
AND A CURSE IN THE SAME BREATH.
AND STILLLCRUSADEDOTCOM
JUST HEARTS
THIS MOTHER FUCKER
⸻
VIII. THE DUALITY OF REALMS:
THE SACRED VS. THE SPECTACLE
PUERTO RICAN DAY PARADE +
YANKEES X RED SOX ON 161ST
THIS IS PROBABLY THE MOST
SPECTRAL THEME WE’VE CLOCKED
THIS ISN’T JUST BACKGROUND NOISE.
IT’S THE HEARTBEAT OF THE CITY.
SPIKE KNOWS THAT.
AND WE’LL KNOW IT TOO
WHEN WE BUILD OUR NYC ALTAR.
NOT AS A CITY OF DREAMS.
BUT AS A CITY OF
DEVOTIONAL SURVIVAL.
PUERTO RICAN DAY PARADE:
THE COLOUR PALETTE OF
SATURATED REDS, WHITES, AND BLUES
NOT MERELY DECORATIVE
BUT DECLARATIVE.
FLAGS AS SCRIPTURE.
THEY DO NOT WAVE
THEY FLUTTER LIKE RELICS
OF A SPIRITUAL INHERITANCE
TOO OFTEN STOLEN,
YET NEVER SURRENDERED.
THE TEXTURE OF
CLOSE-QUARTER BODIES
PRESSED INTO SIDEWALKS
AND EACH OTHER.
FLOWING FABRICS.
BLURRED CHAOS THAT IS NOT DISORDER
BUT THE VERY MOTION OF
ANCESTORS MADE FLESH AGAIN.
SWEATY JOY, REAL-TIME LINEAGE.
THIS ISN’T CELEBRATION.
THIS IS SURVIVAL IN RHYTHM.
SOUND DESIGNED
DRUMS TUNED BY MEMORY.
SHOUTING ELDERS WHO
CARRY ORAL HISTORY IN THEIR THROATS.
CHILDREN ARMED WITH
WHISTLES LIKE TRUMPETS OF TOMORROW.
ABUELAS PRAYING UNDER BREATH
NOT FOR PEACE, BUT FOR PROOF
THAT GOD STILL LIVES
IN THE HOMELAND OF THE EXILED.
ALL OF IT — HOLY.
⸻
BASEBALL GAME
(ONLY HINTED, BUT HAUNTING THE FRAME)
VISUAL LANGUAGE OF
PACKED OUT 4 TRAIN STAMPEDING
UP TO 161ST
YANKEE STADIUM STATION
PLASTIC BEER CUPS.
ORDERLY FANATICS
MIMICKING BELONGING.
A CORPORATE RITUAL
DRESSED UP AS HERITAGE
A PACIFIED EMPIRE’S THEATRE
OF DISTRACTION.
CONTRAST STRUCTURE:
THE PARADE MOVES
HANDHELD, BREATHLESS, ALIVE.
THE STADIUM STAYS STILL
A LOCKED-DOWN WIDE SHOT,
EVERY MOVEMENT PRE-APPROVED BY
BROADCAST PROTOCOL.
TWO ALTARS:
ONE HOLLOW,
ONE HOLY.
⸻
IX. FAITH
“WHEN GOD GIVES YOU ANOTHER CHANCE,
YOU DON’T SAY NO.”
THAT’S THE WHOLE POINT OF THIS DOCTRINE.
THAT’S FAITH
THAT’S PROOF OF GOD
THAT’S RESURRECTION.
THAT’S US.
THAT’S Y+A
⸻
MIRACLES DISGUISED AS DEADLINES
EVERY LAST-MINUTE SAVE.
EVERY CLOSED DOOR
THAT LED TO THE REAL ONE.
EVERY NEAR-COLLAPSE
THAT TAUGHT YOU TO PRAY.
THAT’S THE REAL MIRACLE.
⸻
STREETS AS SCRIPTURE
THE PAVEMENT REMEMBERS.
THE HOOD IS A TEXT.
THE BLOCK IS
A MOSQUE, CHURCH, OR TEMPLE.
YOU JUST HAVE TO LISTEN.
⸻
X. BELIEF AS BLUEPRINT
STILLLCRUSADEDOTCOM
WAS BUILT BY BELIEVING FIRST.
EVERYTHING ELSE CAME AFTER.
THAT’S THE BLUEPRINT.
THAT’S THE VOW.
THAT’S THE NEW WORLD WE’RE CARVING.
BRICK BY BRICK.
STEP BY FREQUENCY.
RELIC BY RESURRECTION.
SPIKE LEE, WE SEE YOU
WE HEAR YOU
WE ARE WITH YOU.
THANK YOU
2025
I AM THE PROOF: A DECLARATION BENEATH THE FULL MOON
WRITTEN BY: Y
PHOTGRAPHED BY: FRANCISCO
CREATIVE DIRECTION BY : Y
THERE ARE NIGHTS WHERE
THE WORLD GOES QUIET,
NOT OUT OF PEACE—
BUT OUT OF RECOGNITION.
WHERE THE MOON SHINES
NOT FOR ROMANCE,
BUT TO WITNESS A RESURRECTION.
THIS ALTAR WASN’T PLANNED.
IT WAS PULLED.
I DIDN’T WRITE THIS
TO BE UNDERSTOOD.
I WROTE IT BECAUSE
I AM DONE EXPLAINING.
THIS IS FOR THE
YOUTH I ONCE WAS.
THE MAN I’M BECOMING.
THE TRUTH THAT
DOESN’T NEED PERMISSION.
I MADE THIS FOR ME.
AND I PLACED IT HERE,
FOR THE WORTHY.
I’VE BEEN HAVING VIVID DREAMS—
NOT ONLY IN VISION,
BUT ALSO IN SOUND + DIALOGUE.
I HAD A DREAM LAST NIGHT.
MY LOVER + I WERE WALKING
THROUGH THE VALLEYS
OF THE SUISSE ALPINE…
SHE ASKED ME QUESTIONS
NO ONE EVER DARED TO ASK.
ALL DAY I WAS DEEP IN THOUGHT.
NOW, I’M READY TO ANSWER:
ARE YOU STILLL CREATING FROM LOVE?”
I AM STILLL CREATING FROM LOVE.
I AM ALSO CREATING FROM ANGER.
CREATING FROM STRENGTH.
CREATING FROM STILLLNESS.
CREATING FROM MOTION.
AND CREATING FROM FAITH.
LOVE DOESN’T HAVE TO BE SOFT.
SOMETIMES, LOVE SHOWS
UP DRESSED IN FLAME,
SWORD IN HAND,
STRIKING IN SILENCE.
“ARE YOU LETTING YOUR
INNER CHILD FEEL SEEN?”
I AM MY INNER CHILD RESURRECTED.
REFINED. PRECISE. RELENTLESS.
THIS IS MY WAY OR THE NO-WAY.
I COME IN PEACE—
BUT I’LL LEAVE ANYONE IN PIECES
WHO QUESTIONS THE CODE.
GET DOWN OR LAY DOWN.
AND IF YOU LAY DOWN—
YOU STAY DOWN.
THAT’S WHAT MY YOUNGER SELF KNEW
BEFORE THE WORLD
TRIED TO HUSH HIM.
NOW?
HE’S BACK.
FOREVER YOUNG.
FOREVER PURE.
FOREVER UNGOVERNABLE.
“ARE YOU STRIKING FOR YOURSELF,
OR BEING PULLED TO PROVE?”
I AM PROVING THIS TO ME.
TO THE BOY WHO
WAS NEVER PICKED.
TO THE MAN WHO
REBUILT THE ALTAR FROM ASH.
TO THE SOUL WHO
STAYED THROUGH IT ALL.
I STRIKE FOR HIM.
I
I STRIKE AS HIM.
BECAUSE I AM THE PROOF.
∞
2025
2025
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
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2025
U i FROM JUUNNI
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2025
AUTUMN 2024
MY ORCHID DIED IN THE SUMMER TIME
AN ALBUM FROM 101115HOTEL
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2024
∞AUTUMN2W0024.MIX
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2024
2024
ACCIDENT OVERDOSE
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2024
SUMMER 2024
/ SPRING 2024 /
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2024
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2023
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SPRING 2023
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