Al-Ahli enter the battle with a new face: Between glory and the void of legends

The moment Eduard Spertsyan stepped into the dressing room in Pretoria, he saw the number 7 shirt hanging on its hook, with no name above it — Riyad Mahrez's name was gone. An empty seat where Franck Kessié used to sit, where his commands in French and English used to echo. They call me the poet of the pitch, but I only write down what the ball whispers. And today, the ball whispers of a rebirth, and also of a farewell. The context of this match is not just a clash between the Asian champions and the African champions. For Al-Ahli, it is the story of an unfinished dynasty, forced to rewrite itself within the currents of history. Two-time Asian champions – the title they wear on their chest like a crown – has now become a burden. They no longer play simply to prove themselves; they must protect their image as one of Asia's kings. Their opponents, Sundowns, are a settled, match-hardened collective, full of experience in high-stakes games like these, and they have the advantage of playing at home. In the summer of 2026, Al-Ahli were a machine dependent on stars. Matthias Jaissle built the play around Mahrez and Kessié. They were the soul, the heartbeat, the answer to every tactical puzzle. But then everything changed. Jaissle left, Mahrez and Kessié were transferred. The board brought in coach Marino Pušić, a man with a different philosophy, and two young, rising talents: Spertsyan and Trincão. They are expected to provide different attacking solutions, more flexible, more unpredictable. But the blunt truth is: this system has not been battle-tested in a knockout-style match. I have followed Al-Ahli over many seasons, and I vividly remember the feeling of watching them lose 1-3 to Pyramids a year ago. That was not an ordinary defeat. It is a psychological scar, a reminder that on the intercontinental stage, victory does not come from names. Tactics teach us to read the match; memory teaches us to read ourselves. And Al-Ahli's memory is telling them: never underestimate the African champions. The core of this match lies in the balance Pušić must find. Possession – pressing – defensive security. If he is too cautious, the new attacking machine will have no stage. If he is too adventurous, the vast spaces will be ruthlessly exploited by Sundowns. They are a formidable counter-attacking side, and they have the return of their home fans to fuel them. A miscoordinated forward surge could turn the match into a nightmare. Pušić's problem is not just tactical; it is also the emotional management of a squad in transition. The departure of Mahrez and Kessié leaves a void much larger than their positions on the pitch. They were voices in the dressing room, leaders when the match entered difficult moments. A kind contract is rarer than a goal from outside the box, and Al-Ahli just let two such contracts go in the same transfer window. The young signings, no matter how talented, need time to understand each other, to trust each other, to know that in the storm, someone will step up to shoulder the burden. But there is a counterintuitive angle that many overlook. Losing those big stars might precisely be the opportunity for Al-Ahli to break free from a style dependent on individuals. Mahrez and Kessié were the focal point, but also the limit. They made the team predictable. Now, with Spertsyan and Trincão, Pušić can build a more flexible system, where every player can become the hero. It is a long-term, ambitious project, but also full of risk. If the new pieces do not fit together, Al-Ahli will not only lose this match; they will lose the faith of the fans. They will be seen as someone who tore down a temple to build an inn. The match against Sundowns is not just a single game. It is the test of an entire philosophy, of a gamble called reform. In the all-male press room, I learned that football also knows how to love in many languages. There is the language of victory, the language of defeat, and the language of a team searching for itself. Al-Ahli is speaking that third language. They step onto Loftus Versfeld without legends, without a safety net, armed only with a young belief that change will take them to a new summit. But belief alone is not enough. Sundowns are a mature team, playing at home, and aware of the value of decisive moments. They will not give Al-Ahli time to experiment. They will immediately exploit the spaces created by the uncertainty of a new system. An early goal could plunge Al-Ahli into chaos, with no seasoned leader to steady the ship. The Pyramids ghost will return like a phantom. The question is not whether Al-Ahli are stronger than Sundowns. It is whether they have the courage to accept that the path to glory sometimes passes through initial defeats. If they lose this match, is it the end of a dynasty, or just a comma in a long story? Will coach Pušić dare to hold faith in the new system, regardless of the result? I have no answer. But I know that whatever happens on the pitch tonight will be a masterpiece, however it is written. Because football, as the ball itself whispers, always knows how to craft the most surprising verses.