The first whistle pierced through Riazor's cauldron as 40,000 voices merged into a single roar. Deportivo moved the ball quickly from kickoff, their passing sharp and purposeful, immediately establishing the tempo they wanted to impose on Monaco's patient approach.

Valerón dropped deep to collect the initial pass, his first touch drawing applause from supporters who recognized his class. The Spanish playmaker turned smoothly, evading Alonso's pressing attempt, before switching play to the right flank, where Capdevila advanced with overlapping intent.

Monaco's defensive shape absorbed the early pressure with disciplined positioning. Evra tracked Capdevila's movement while Squillaci provided cover, the center-back's communication directing his teammates' responses to Deportivo's probing attacks.

"Stay compact!" Giuly shouted above the noise, his captain's voice carrying tactical instructions that players processed instantly. The winger's positioning on Monaco's right flank was deliberately narrow, denying Deportivo the wide spaces they preferred to exploit.

The home team's pressing was coordinated and aggressive—seven players surged forward when possession was secured, and recovery runs were immediate when the ball was lost. Their sustained intensity showed their fitness levels, while Monaco sought to weather the early storm through superior technical security.

In the eighth minute, Deportivo created their first clear chance through a patient buildup that mirrored Monaco's own approach. Valerón's movement between the lines drew Bernardi out of position, creating space for Sergio to advance from deep.

The midfielder's pass split Monaco's defense with surgical precision, finding Tristán in space twelve yards from goal. The striker's first touch was heavy under Rodriguez's pressure, but his second produced a shot that forced Roma into a spectacular diving save.

The Italian goalkeeper's fingertips deflected the ball onto the post, where it bounced clear to safety. Monaco's supporters behind the goal erupted in relieved celebration, while Deportivo's crowd groaned at the missed opportunity.

"Stay connected!" Demien shouted from the touchline, his voice barely audible above the din. The early chance had come from the tactical breakdown he'd warned against—individual pressing that left gaps for intelligent players to exploit.

Monaco's response was immediate and characteristic—patient ball circulation designed to calm nerves and establish their preferred rhythm. Alonso dropped deeper to provide additional passing options, while D'Alessandro moved into wider positions to stretch Deportivo's compact defensive block.

The Argentine's movement caught Deportivo's attention, with their right-back tracking his drift toward the touchline. This created a micro-gap in their defensive structure that Monaco's intelligent players quickly recognized and exploited.

Evra's overlap down the left flank drew additional defenders, opening space for Rothen to receive the ball in a dangerous central position. The winger's first touch eliminated his marker, and his second produced a shot that whistled just over Molina's crossbar.

Deportivo's crowd fell silent for a moment—the first time Monaco's quality had genuinely threatened their goal. But their team responded with increased intensity, pressing higher and challenging every Monaco touch with renewed aggression.

The match evolved into a tactical chess game played at breakneck speed. Both teams demonstrated a sophisticated understanding of space and time, creating a spectacle that transcended mere athletic competition and transformed into tactical artistry.

In the twenty-third minute, the breakthrough came through pure Spanish craftsmanship. Valerón collected the ball thirty yards from goal, his first touch buying the crucial half-second needed to assess his options. He shifted his weight left, drawing Monaco's defensive attention, before delivering a subtle pass into space that seemed nonexistent.

Pandiani's movement was almost imperceptible—a half-step that took him away from Squillaci's marking while keeping him onside. The Uruguayan's control was flawless, and his finish was clinical. The ball nestled in Roma's bottom corner with a precision that left the goalkeeper helpless.

1-0.

Riazor erupted in blue and white celebration. Flares ignited in the stands, smoke drifting across the pitch as Deportivo's players embraced near the corner flag. Their tactical discipline had been rewarded with the kind of goal that wins Champions League matches.

Monaco's reaction was immediate and positive. There was no panic, no desperate changes—just a renewed focus on the approach that had brought them this far. They resumed possession with characteristic patience, probing for weaknesses in Deportivo's increasingly confident defensive structure.

D'Alessandro began dropping deeper to collect the ball, his movement creating numerical advantages in midfield that gradually tilted the territorial balance back toward Monaco. The Argentine's passing range was evident in his switches of play, stretching Deportivo's compact shape.

The equalizer almost came in the thirty-seventh minute through another flowing move that showcased Monaco's collective understanding. Giuly's diagonal run created space for Morientes to drop short, and the striker's flicked pass found D'Alessandro in a pocket that didn't exist on tactical boards.

The Argentine's shot was struck cleanly but went straight at Molina, who gathered it comfortably before immediately launching a counter-attack that reminded Monaco of the dangers they faced when committing players forward.

Deportivo's transition was devastating in its speed and precision. Three quick passes eliminated Monaco's midfield, creating a two-on-two situation that tested their defensive recovery to the limit.

Only Evra's perfectly timed challenge prevented inevitable disaster; the left-back's sliding tackle deflected Tristán's shot just wide of Roma's far post. The Italian goalkeeper retrieved the ball with theatrical relief, acknowledging how close he had come to being beaten.

The final minutes of the first half passed in a tactical stalemate, with both teams acutely aware of the acceptable margins separating European progression from elimination. Neither was willing to commit the numbers needed for clear chances, opting for patient probing that maintained their shape while seeking opportunities.

When Bulgarian referee Georgi Kabakov signaled halftime, Deportivo led by the narrowest margin despite Monaco's territorial advantages. The statistics would show greater possession for the visitors, but Spanish efficiency produced a more meaningful number.

In Monaco's cramped away dressing room, players slumped against the walls while receiving individual attention from medical staff. The intensity had been draining—from physical exertion and the mental concentration that elite football demands.

"We're playing well," Demien addressed the squad, his voice calm despite the precarious scoreline. "We're creating chances, controlling possession, and forcing them deeper. The goal will come if we maintain this level."

Michel provided water bottles while the kit manager checked boots for stud damage on Riazor's firm surface—small details that could influence performance in a second half when margins for error had effectively disappeared.

"Valerón is deeper now," Demien continued, sketching adjustments on the tactical board. "He's following D'Alessandro more closely. We can use that—draw him away from their defensive line and create space for others."

The players absorbed the information, mentally preparing for the forty-five minutes to determine whether their European adventure continued or ended in disappointment.

Giuly gathered them for his final words—nothing dramatic, just a reinforcement of collective belief and individual responsibility. His armband caught the fluorescent light as he gestured toward each player.

"We've been here before," he concluded. "Different stadium, same situation. Trust the preparation, trust each other, and trust that we belong at this level."

On their return, the tunnel felt narrow, forcing opposing players into close proximity and heightening the tension for the second half. Monaco's younger players appeared focused rather than nervous, while their experienced internationals exuded calm from understanding these moments.

The roar that greeted their reappearance was even louder than before—40,000 voices unified in anticipation of European glory, creating an acoustic environment that would test Monaco's mental strength as much as its tactical preparation.

As players took their positions for the second half, Demien surveyed the scene from his technical area. Forty-five minutes to salvage qualification from a position that many would consider hopeless.

But this team had already exceeded every expectation, rewritten every prediction, and challenged every assumption about their limitations.

One more act of transformation awaited.

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