Imagine a parallel universe where he scores an own goal for us when we meet them. At the Metropolitano, even.
Would be poetic justice seeing Rodri, Pedri and Raphinha stand around him, shielding him from incoming projectiles from the stands concluding with a zoom-in on this order of faces:
Simeone (death stare)
Cerezo (disgruntled, sweaty pig)
Laporta (huge smile)
Deco (looking at his phone)
Simeone again (still empty stare thinking 'man, Barca is nice. I wish I was there too, Julian, you hijo de puta madre')