Match Day Goes Global
After deciding to create The Match Day filter for Moment, aimed at Europe, I spent about thirty minutes on it before the rough draft was finished.
Hmm, this looks about right.
I applied the finished filter to one of my photos.
To the picture from freshman orientation where I’d scored a goal and was grinning with all my might.
Pop.
The moment I saw the photo with the filter on it, a quiet exclamation slipped out of me before I even realized it.
“Oh……”
The image showed me pumping my fist and cheering after scoring.
Even though it was my own photo, I had to admit—it looked cool.
It really looks like a soccer player’s photo.
The rough texture, the darkened edges, and that intense spotlight effect that seemed to pour straight down on me.
It was the kind of result you’d normally only see in a global ad campaign for Nike or Adidas.
Those photos usually took professional editors days to perfect, but this was something anyone could make with a click.
The soccer fans are going to love this.
I studied the filtered photo for a moment longer, then asked Zero, “Zero, I think this is good enough. Should I update it right away?”
“Master, the color palette, vignetting, and contrast effects you intended have all been applied perfectly. The Moment app can be updated with the The Match Day filter immediately.”
“Good. Then let’s update it right awa—”
I was about to say go ahead and push the update when something subtle caught my eye, and it bothered me a little.
The last detail is bothering me.
Originally, the The Match Day filter I’d imagined absolutely had typography at the bottom of the photo: the match date, the score, and a line of text, all stamped on like a movie poster.
But seeing the finished result made me think twice.
Text does look stylish, but… sometimes a photo feels more haunting when it’s left alone.
When the image itself had enough power, text could end up feeling like a gratuitous extra.
And users had different tastes, too.
Some people like T-shirts with big brand logos on them, but plenty of others prefer clothes where the logo is tiny—or hidden altogether.
So I decided I shouldn’t force text onto every picture.
I should give people the freedom to choose.
“Zero, let’s make the typography for text on photos optional. Users should be able to turn it on or off, and adjust the placement.”
“Understood. I will revise it to respect user choice.”
Zero finished the revision right away.
I checked the updated code and smiled.
“Roll out the update. Target the whole world—especially Europe.”
On Saturday evening, May 2nd, at Santiago Bernabéu Stadium in Madrid, Spain—the home ground of Real Madrid—
Waaaahhhhh~!!!!
As always on match day, the air in Madrid was hot with excitement, but this day was especially fierce.
Because this was El Clásico, the showdown between first and second place that would decide the fate of Spain’s Primera Liga.
“Kill them! Break their legs!”
“Ref! Are you blind? How is that not a foul?!”
“Run properly! What the hell are you doing?!”
“Ramos! Messi, kick that little bastard’s shins in!!”
“Raúl! I believe in you!”
The gap between first-place Real Madrid and second-place Barcelona was only four points.
If Real Madrid won, the title was effectively sealed. If Barcelona won, the gap would narrow to just one point, and the rest of the season would become a blood-soaked chase.
As expected, the home fans wanted victory.
And just as naturally, the Barcelona supporters wanted to keep the title race alive with an away win.
But the match started in a way that was frankly a little too lopsided to deserve the name El Clásico.
— Messi! He’s quick! A shot from the center of the arc!
Crash!
No sooner had the match begun than Barcelona’s Lionel Messi scored.
— They’ve lost track of Henry! It’s gone to Henry’s right foot!!
Crash!!
Before the first half was even over, the away side Barcelona had scored again.
— ……
— ……
— ……
— ……
2–0.
At that scoreline, Santiago Bernabéu, packed with tens of thousands of Real Madrid fans, turned into a library.
— ……Haha! They scored again!
— ……Real Madrid isn’t all that!
— ……We’ve got Henry! And Messi, too!
— ……Puyol’s the greatest defender in history! You guys don’t have anyone like him!
All that could be heard were the cheers, the smug certainty of victory, and the mockery coming from the away fans gathered in one corner of the stadium.
Even the commentary grew rough and frantic to match the atmosphere.
— Where are Real Madrid’s superstars?! None of them can do anything!
— 2–0 at home in the first half—honestly, I don’t even know what’s happening right now!
— What is Raúl doing? What is Robben doing?
— Casillas! He looks heavy today! I can understand Henry’s shot, but Messi’s first goal should have been saved!
— This is Real Madrid’s home ground! This kind of performance is unacceptable!
Under the disappointment of both the fans and the commentators, a one-sided first half came to an end—utterly unworthy of the name El Clásico.
Everyone assumed Barcelona had the win in the bag.
But Real Madrid did not give up.
— Gonzalo Iguaíiiiin!!! Shooooooot!
Crash!
— Goal! It’s a goal!
— Real Madrid is coming back to life!!
— Waaaaaahhhhhhh!!!
— Incredible! Absolutely incredible!
Real Madrid’s first reply came with the start of the second half.
Once that goal went in, the atmosphere inside the stadium grew even more ferocious, and before long the match felt less like a ball game and more like a fight—no, like gladiatorial combat.
Slash!
“Agh!”
A Real Madrid midfielder was sent crashing to the ground by a vicious tackle.
The heated players shoved one another, and every man on the pitch—including the goalkeepers—rushed in, turning it into a full-blown brawl.
“Hey, you son of a bitch! Where the hell are you tackling? That’s way too deep!!”
“What, you motherfucker?! You guys are worse!”
“Bullshit, you little shit!”
“What did you say, asshole?!”
Beep—beep! Beep! Beep!
The referee ran in, blowing his whistle as he tried to somehow bring order back to the match.
The result was five yellow cards in an instant, and Ramos and Puyol—the ones who started the fight—were both sent off.
Of course, the fans only got more worked up.
— Booooooo!
— Ref! Why did you send off Ramos too?!
— Bury those Barcelona bastards!
— Just you wait if you lose! You won’t even be getting on the bus!! And you too, ref!!
— Those guys with no cards! You should’ve gotten one too! Step on their ankles!
— Don’t let the bastards who scored in our home leave alive!!
— Pepe! Headbutt them! Headbutt them!!
With more than three times the usual number of police stationed throughout the stands, they kept a close eye on the agitated fans.
One wrong move and a serious incident could break out.
But even the police couldn’t focus entirely on their job.
That’s because today’s match was simply too important—and too entertaining—for the Spanish people.
And then, in the middle of this war called soccer—
— HUNTELAAR!! He’s just come on and he’s already found a chance!!
Crash!
With a dramatic equalizer from Real Madrid in the 89th minute, the entire stadium went insane.
— Waaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!
— Go! Just one more goal!
— How many minutes of stoppage time?!
— Four! We’ve got time for one more!!
— Taaaaaahhhhhh!!!
— Run! Faster! We can still win this!!!
Barcelona had seemed set for an easy victory all the way through the first half, but in the end the score was tied 2–2.
Four minutes of added time were given.
And as those four minutes were nearly up—
Beep!
The referee called a free kick from a decisive spot just outside the penalty box.
“……No way!”
“Why the hell is that a foul?!”
“Isn’t this a little much, even for a home team?!”
“That was a fair shoulder challenge!!”
“Ref! Are you kidding me?! When we got taken down in their penalty box earlier, you just let it go!!”
The Barcelona players surged toward the referee, protesting loudly.
The free kick was in a terrifyingly dangerous spot, and a player from Real Madrid could easily shoot straight at goal from there.
“Back off! Unless you want a card!”
The referee held back the protesting Barcelona players.
For Real Madrid, this was it—the last chance, right before the final whistle, to seize victory for good.
In that nerve-racking moment, Raúl—the heart of Real Madrid, the Lord of the Rings himself—set the ball down to take the free kick.
Beeeeeeep~!
The whistle blew, giving permission for the free kick.
At that sound, eighty thousand spectators in the stadium all held their breath at once.
— ……
— ……
— ……
— ……
— ……
Even with 80,000 people packed into the stadium, it was so quiet that not even the murmur of a crowd could be heard.
The tension was so extreme you couldn’t even hear someone swallow.
“Hoo……”
Raúl’s deep breath as he prepared to strike the ball seemed to reach every fan in the stadium.
On the very front row of that fierce battlefield stood Marco, a die-hard Real Madrid fan.
With trembling hands, he fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his Apple phone.
Please…… please go in!
Praying like that, Marco turned on his camera.
Of course, not the basic camera app—the Clear Cam.
His hands shaking, he zoomed in on the screen.
Raúl…… you can do this. The angle’s perfect!
Marco held his breath and placed his thumb over the shutter button.
All around him, countless other fans covered their mouths or rubbed their hair nervously, waiting in silence for the moment Raúl struck the ball.
And then—
Tap!
Raúl charged the ball.
Bang!
With a sound like a shell exploding, the ball left Raúl’s foot and arced menacingly over the defensive wall.
“W-what……?!”
“Did he……?”
“Oh…… ohhh!”
Low, breathless sounds of hope rose from the fans who had been holding their breath.
“Hup……!”
Barcelona’s goalkeeper threw himself toward the shot.
But the ball skimmed the tips of his fingers.
Swish!
And sank cleanly into the corner of the net.
The instant the fans confirmed it—
— WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
A roar that seemed ready to tear Santiago Bernabéu apart exploded into the night.
“Goal! It’s a goal! Aaaaaahhh!”
“We won! We actually won!”
“Raúl! I knew you’d do it!”
“Amazing! Absolutely amazing!!!”
“They were down 2–0 and came back to win 3–2!! Aaaaaaahhh!!!”
But the fans weren’t the only ones who were losing their minds.
Just as the supporters erupted, Raúl—the man who’d scored—went berserk too, sprinting madly toward the corner flag.
“Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!”
The direction he was running in was exactly where Marco stood.
Superstar Raúl charged toward the fans, slamming a hand against the emblem on his jersey.
He vaulted over the advertising boards and came right up to the crowd.
Bloodshot eyes, veins bulging in his neck, and a roar that made it seem like he owned the world.
It was the moment a player and the fans shared the triumph together.
At the sound of their hero’s roar, the fans answered with cheers and howls of their own.
“Raúl!!!”
“Aaaaaaaaahhhh!!”
“Yeah, you’re the best!!”
“Waaaaaahhh!!”
“Raúl! I love you! Marry me!! I’ll even be your second wife!!”
“Fine, take my wife, Raúl!!”
In the middle of that mad scene, by pure coincidence, Raúl had come right to where Marco stood.
Right in front of him, as close as close could be.
I, I have to take this shot!
Instinctively, Marco kept taking pictures.
Click! Click! Click! Click!
Photos kept firing off in his Clear Cam.
He wanted to preserve this historic moment forever—the instant he locked eyes with the hero who had just scored the winning goal and, in effect, sealed the title.
And a little while later—
Beep—beep—beeeeeep!
With the whistle, the match ended in a 3–2 comeback victory for home team Real Madrid.
After the match ended, Marco finally calmed himself down and left the stadium.
While waiting for the bus home, he only then started checking the photos he’d taken.
“Let’s see…… did they come out well?”
Marco opened his smartphone photo album.
The quality is great. As expected of Clear Cam.
The performance of Clear Cam was, as always, outstanding.
Of course, the basic camera hardware wasn’t good enough to capture the sweat on the players’ skin, their tattoos, or the texture of the grass.
But even so, the photos were far sharper than what a normal camera could produce.
The pictures were steady, clear, and more than satisfying.
And I even got a photo of Raúl right in front of me……!
If he posted this on Facebook, his friends would definitely be jealous.
Just thinking about bragging that he’d been there in person—about how Raúl had scored the comeback free kick and roared right in front of him—made his shoulders lift with pride.
But then—
……Now that I look at it, something feels a little lacking.
A vague sense of disappointment began to rise.
Of course, the photos taken with Clear Cam were excellent.
The quality was much cleaner than a normal camera’s.
But that was the problem—their cleanliness.
The shiver he’d just felt, the victory won after a brutal battle, Raúl’s animal-like roar, the burning heat of the stadium.
The feeling of being down 2–0 to a rival team at halftime and then turning it around in the second half.
That emotion wasn’t in the photo.
The image on the screen felt more like a “well-shot newspaper photo” than anything else.
And a photo like this shouldn’t just be well taken—it should be cool.
……Too bad. This isn’t quite it.
Marco clicked his tongue in regret.
Still, what could he do? All he had was a smartphone camera, and getting a shot this good was already something to be grateful for.
“I’ll upload it to Facebook for now, at least.”
Just as Marco was about to tap the share button, a notification banner appeared at the bottom of the Clear Cam screen.
Along with the notification came two photos.
The one on the left was the bright, punchy original shot Marco had just taken.
It was a great picture, but it hadn’t captured the heat of the moment.
And the one on the right—
“……Oh?!”
The photo on the right was completely different.
The chaotic background of the surrounding stands had been darkened away, and only Raúl—the main subject—was highlighted as if a spotlight had found him.
The saturation had been lowered, but the contrast had been pushed to the extreme, making Raúl’s muscles and veins stand out like a statue carved from stone.
It had the solemn grandeur of an ad campaign, or a scene from a masculine war film.
“Whoa…… that’s insane.”
The words escaped Marco’s mouth before he could stop them.
This is it. This is exactly what I wanted!
Not just a record of what happened, but a photo carrying a chest-thumping sense of story.
Marco wasn’t a professional photographer, but maybe that was precisely why he wanted a picture like this.
If you like the The Match Day filter, cheer for your team right now on Moment!
Apple officially certified app / Free download
Another notification popped up on Clear Cam.
Marco didn’t even hesitate.
His finger was already pressing the install button.
At the same time, in a house in Madrid—
“Viva Madrid!!!”
Marco’s friend Oliveira spat out his beer in front of the TV and shouted in delight.
He was watching the match alone at home, but the energy felt no less intense than inside the stadium.
“Ha, this is insane. They actually came back and won.”
Still buzzing with excitement, he opened Facebook to share the joy of victory.
His friends were already going wild.
As Oliveira scrolled through those Facebook posts, his finger froze.
It was a post from his friend Marco.
“Huh? That bastard Marco went to the match in person?”
And he didn’t even tell me?!
Jealous, Oliveira looked through the photos Marco had uploaded.
There were ordinary shots of the stadium and pictures of Marco grinning like a maniac.
But the last photo was different.
It was Raúl roaring right in front of him.
“……What, did he steal a magazine photoshoot or something?”
It was such an amazing picture that it almost seemed impossible to believe it was real.
Oliveira opened Marco’s comment thread.
Partly to ask what the photo was, and partly to give his friend a piece of his mind for going to the match without telling him.
The comments were already full of reactions similar to the one he’d wanted to write.
Scrolling down a little, Oliveira found Marco’s replies beneath the comments.
“Moment?”
Oliveira muttered the unfamiliar word under his breath.
Marco had even been kind enough to attach a link.
And the moment Oliveira saw it, he clicked the download link for Moment as if he’d been spellbound.
A little later, after the download finished and he launched Moment, the screen exploded with vivid photos over a black background.
Strangely enough, the very first screen was already packed with soccer-related pictures.
How did it know I like soccer and show me photos like this…?
Oliveira scrolled without even noticing he was doing it.
Most of the pictures were from the Real Madrid–Barcelona match that had just ended.
Many were taken in the stadium like Marco’s, but there were also plenty of photos taken by people like him—people watching at home with a TV and beer in front of them.
Oh… photos taken at home can look this cool too. Must be because of the filter.
A beer bottle on the table, a jersey, and the score on the TV screen all blended together into a single “work of art.”
“……I should take photos like this at the next match too.”
Of course, there wouldn’t be another El Clásico this season; that would come again next year.
But Real Madrid still had a few games left, and Oliveira was determined to take photos at those matches at the very least.
The morning after El Clásico.
Real Madrid’s marketing office.
Even though it was Sunday and everyone was at work, the mood in the Real Madrid marketing team’s meeting room was bright and electric.
The excitement from yesterday’s comeback victory still hadn’t cooled.
“Yesterday’s win will go down in history. We came back from 2–0 down and effectively sealed the title!”
At marketing director Garcia’s words, the employees nodded.
“Has the championship celebration content for the official website, Facebook, and Twitter been prepared?”
“Yes, sir. The drafts are already done. This morning’s newspapers and internet articles have already been distributed too.”
“And don’t forget to include the lines that taunt Barcelona.”
“That was the very first thing we prepared.”
— Hahahahaha!
Just as the usual meeting was continuing like that, one employee cautiously held up his Apple phone and brought up a topic that wasn’t part of the ordinary routine.
“Director, I think you should take a look at this.”
“What is it?”
“It’s fans’ reactions and the photos they took… but it’s not on Facebook or Twitter.”
On the employee’s Apple phone screen was Moment, the social network with the black background.
“Since right after yesterday’s game, the photos fans took have been going up here in real time, and the quality is no joke.”
“How good can fan photos really be?”
Garcia adjusted his glasses and looked down at the screen.
His tone was a little dismissive.
But the moment he saw the photos, his expression changed.
“……All of these were taken by fans?”
The screen was full of majestic, stylish shots that looked like they’d been taken by professional photographers.
Photos that captured the stadium’s heat, the players’ roars, and the crowd’s cheers.
In particular, the scene where the two teams’ players fought during the match looked like a frame from a noir film.
“Yes. They’re photos using a filter called ‘Match Day’ on Moment, and the response has been explosive. There are even people saying in the official club Facebook comments, ‘The photos on Moment look cooler.’”
“Hmm……”
Garcia slowly scrolled through the photos, studying them with care.
Honestly… they might be better than the photos we posted on our official Facebook or website.
Of course, the image quality wasn’t comparable.
As far as he could tell, the fans’ photos were all taken on smartphones, while the club’s cameras were professional-grade.
But the atmosphere the Moment filter created more than made up for the lack of quality.
The composition of the photos also made the match feel even more vivid, perhaps because they were shot from the fans’ point of view.
“These photos are all still being uploaded?”
“Yes. They’ve been going up continuously since yesterday’s match ended, all the way through this morning.”
A thought flashed through Garcia’s mind.
If anyone can take photos this good, of course the fans will keep uploading them.
The place where the fans are is the market.
And if the club isn’t where the fans are playing, that’s a problem.
Then—
“Can our club make an account on this SNS too?”
“If you mean us… I’ve already made a personal account, but—”
“No, not a personal account. An official one, like Facebook.”
Thud!
Garcia slapped the desk and said, “There’s a place where the fans are this excited, and we can’t stay out of it. It’d be great to filter some locker room photos we can’t post on the official website or Facebook and put them up here.”
“Ah…! I’ll check whether that’s possible right away. I haven’t seen any official accounts for sports clubs yet, though.”
“Check fast. Official inquiry, or find the feature—whatever it takes.”
After saying that, the marketing director added in a serious voice, “Make it before Barcelona does, no matter what. Don’t let those bastards come in after the fact and steal the spotlight. Got it?”
“Yes, sir!”
Real Madrid, a giant club with hundreds of millions of fans around the world, was deciding to enter Moment.
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