What happens when 800 of the world’s most elite footballers and their managers live together under one roof? Players stop being polite and start getting Real. This is The Champions I kick shins and knees like they’re balls. I also kick balls like they’re balls. I am so pumped to join Chelsea, because I was in danger of actually winning things at Dortmund, and that would go against everything the U.S. men’s national team believes in. Every time we get a bad result, I take a hard look in the mirror… and I blame the officials, the wind, the cut of the grass, the smells of the stadium, the I’m back, and winning I’m back, and winning is in my jeans. Nice to finally be out of that shadow. Hey Cristiano not to be that guy, but would you sign my Ronaldo jersey? Of course. It is very tiny. It’s from when I was a baby. It’s from when you were a baby? Oh my God, you’re like a man now. And you…are a legend. Merci, mon ami. A legend? Like…Raul? Or Pele? Or Figo? Legends are old. No. Am I…old? Thank you for seeing me doctor Iceland guy. I’m having an emergency. Oh no, did you chip a tooth? What? No! My teeth are perfect. I here because… I think I’m aging. I don’t think he understands what a dentist does. Cristiano, you have the body of a 23-year-old. 23? Oh no. Just a year ago all the doctors say I have body of 22-year-old. Now he tells me 23?! This is more serious than I thought. I thought it best to seek out advice from another Juventus legend. One who has suffered for many years with…the aging. Aging is nothing to fear. I have been 50 years old since I was 25. It’s just scary to think that one day I might not be the best player in the world. Maybe it’s time for you to take a long look in the mirror. Oh nice, do you have a mirror? No, what I mean is, do you expect to play this game forever? Umm… yeah? Nobody can play this game forever. You are mortal. You can die. You are going to get old. You are going to die. So at this point, I’m like, whoa. For someone known for his passes, Andrea can be quite a straight shooter. So, so what… am I going to have to…like…retire someday? Not yet. You still have a few years with the Old Lady. What do you mean Old Lady? Oh…Georgina is 25. I mean Juventus. OK, but then what? Then…you do what all the former elite players do. Are you an aging soccer er…sorry, football star in Europe? Come join MLS! Where you can score three goals a game! Make hundreds of millions of dollars! And you won’t get bothered on the streets because no one will recognize you! Note: The U.S. dollar may be worth less than euros and pounds. In MLS you may be forced to play defense and take commercial flights. Also everyone has guns. Come on over! It’s actually more challenging than you think! Believe me. Oh God, I need to go. Hello, worse Ronaldo. I’m so scared. Please tell me retirement will be OK. Oh, no, it’s great you get to eat whatever you want! What happens when 800 of the world’s most elite footballers and their managers live together under one roof? Players stop being polite Players stop being polite and start getting Real. This is The Champions If you need a cross into the box, pray you have an Angel on your wing. Money can’t buy you silverware… is what the chairman keeps telling me. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. Hate me because I had a great World Cup five years ago and not much else. I’m not the new Ronaldo. I’m the first Vinicius. Oh, except for Vinicius Sr. OLE, OLE, OLE, OLE, OLE OLE, OLE, OLE, OLE, OLE, OLE Hey you guys, sorry Gareth bailed but thanks for taking the rest of us out! Now you are just like your season… totally wasted! Per La Liga tradition, every night we all get dinner at 11 p.m. and go to the club till about 3 a.m., which makes us perfectly ready for breakfast at noon and a match at 1. Antoine, do you want red or white? Hmmmm. That is a tough choice. I used to wear the 10 shirt too, you know. Let the Little Magician show you how it’s done. Ta-da. I make it disappear! See?! Uh, guys… excuse me, um, could you- Uh, yeah, would you mind keeping it down please? I mean, who sleeps that much? What planet is he from? Come on, Gareth, For once, have fun with us. Slow down. You know I have a problem with conversational Spanish! We are speaking English to you. We just have accents. I don’t know why I haven’t been able to fit in… I’ve even learned all the Spanish I need. I mean, go ahead. Test me. Okay, como estas? Estoy herido. Que paso? …Estoy herido. Okay. Uh, you need a scrunchie? Two words. Do you want us to be louder? Sounds like… You want a transfer? Whoa! Not cool, man. Oh, oh no. I’m sorry. It’s just I need to be at my best for tomorrow’s big match. Big match? Uh, we are out of the Champions League and the Copa del Rey. And right now we only play La Liga matches to get out of the house once in a while. Oh, no no no. My big golf match… I’m trying to beat my personal best. Uh, unless you want to join…? Anyone? Alright, well, see you later. What’s his deal?! Oh my God. The man sucks. We have a lot of nicknames for Gareth, like “the Martian” because we don’t like him, “the Golfer” because we don’t like him, or like “Less Good Ronaldo” because we don’t like him. I don’t know. Something’s off with him, man. Nobody in their right mind wouldn’t want to hang out with us. Maybe he wants a transfer? Maybe he’s faking an injury? I know! Let’s go through his stuff to find out what he’s hiding. We could maybe instead go to sleep and practice more so we stop losing… Guys, I found something. Why is his pencil so small? I’m scared. He really is a martian! What’s going on? Is it tee time already?! Get away from us, alien! You’re different, and we hate you. But that’s just my Welsh books, my golf pencils and my exfoliating mask. Please…por favor. Oh NOW you speak Spanish. I tried to fit in. But after six years, it’s clear I am the only true Galactico here. I don’t belong at Real Madrid. It’s time for me to go home. I will stick with the red. Thank you! Uh, guys? What happens when 800 of the world’s most elite footballers and their managers live together under one roof? Players stop being polite Players stop being polite and start getting Real. This is The Champions Despite recent results, we already got the historic quadruple this season. We were investigated by UEFA, FIFA, the FA and the Premier League! I followed in the footsteps of the greats… by leaving Southampton! You think Icardi’s a dog? I shagged me brother’s missus. -Alright, and that’s all we need. Thank you for coming in, Mr. Giggs. Send message: Hello, lads! Meet me in the backyard for a smashing good time. Why did Harry Kane text us to… cheese him in the backyard for a crashing wood crime? Nothing to be scared of, Phil, it’s just a tent. Oh, I’m not scared. This is my happy face. Gentlemen, welcome to Tentingham! Oo wunderbar. This must have taken you all weekend. Yeah…all weekend… Come in, come in. I thought we’d have a casual day baking. It’s so new. Oh my dog. It looks like a toilet seat. Hello. Remember me? I’m Arsene. And I am the Special One. Welcome to the Great British Baking Derby! While we’re all optimistic, when it comes to a big game, Spurs have a tendency to be rather… -Spursy? That’s the word! So I asked myself, “If I were British and wanted to a win a trophy, what would I do?” So I organized a baking competition! Now, every competition needs judges, so I found the most judgmental and also out-of-work people that I know. And to ensure that we win, I’ve had the boys practicing baking for weeks now. Hopefully this works. And we should win, because after all, we are the only team ready for this. F–k yeah, we are ready for this! Whoa. You guys have more resources than I do? Oh no. Liverpool’s pies have somehow been impressive all season, but something tells me they will slip up in the final. Just a fun day out, he said. No stress, he said. All of a sudden I’m under a lot of pressure to score… ALL THESE PIES! Come on, we need to go higher. Uh, I fear we may have reached our ceiling. Tottenham are making a Tottenham cake which is pink and fun, but also crumbly and fragile. I’ll put the proof in the pudding. Ow! My ankle. Now I’ve got soggy bottoms. Oh no. Man City will be making a perfect Manchester tart. For the literal cherry on top, I’m having the finest Maraschino cherries flown here on a private jet. We are just so happy to have you on our team. For their signature bake, Manchester United are making… a huge mistake. Seriously, they think this garden gnome of a manager is better than me? Ah! You got me! Haha! Oh, this is fun, isn’t it. To be honest, I really thought when we hosted this competition that the other clubs, they had, like, little to no baking experience, but as it turns out they are taking this very seriously, so… Guys, you need to focus on the finish. Aguero, get the decorative Lancashire roses. 9320 of them! Come on, put more pressure on it, Mo. These all appear to be top, top quality. Voyeur. I won’t taste them, because I know they are not as good as the Chelsea buns I made—three times. In fourth and last place. You. You. You. And especially you, Paul. You should all be disappointed. Fourth place is nice. Take it from me. It is the same as a trophy. Okay, but come on, Harry’s ankle has been through so much… He deserves something for his baking contributions. Okay. Fine, whatever. Harry Kane, you are hereby a Member of the Most Excellent Order of the Baking Empire. Hey! Harry’s been awarded MBE! Alright, Harry. Yeah! So, how do we beat Liverpool on the pitch? What happens when 800 of the world’s most elite footballers and their managers live together under one roof? Players stop being polite and start getting Real. This is The Champions I’m one of the best players in the world… according to my paycheck. People say I would be good in the Premier League, but first I need to be good in Serie A. Thanks, Kepa, but, ugh, we actually need a Champions League goalkeeper. So, ugh, if you could just, ugh, go ahead and get off the set. It was just a cramp. I’m staying. You can’t make me go! Zizou’s back! Isco be alright. I can’t sleep. I haven’t slept since that day. We were in total control. Then he took it away. My question is… Who decided on the sizes of the paintings? I am an L. No, Antoine. You are not an L. You only need cojones in your heart. Huh? Come on, let’s talk somewhere else that doesn’t smell like a Porto-Potty. Look, you’re great, Antoine. Your hair deserves to be up there with the legends. But do you? Why not?! I’m just as good as Ronaldo and Messi! …At what? I won the World Cup! Mbappe won the World Cup. Now shut up and follow me. Ah, the book no one reads. Whoa! Encroyable… OK, so apparently there’s some kind of secret fight club going on in the basement. Gentlemen, welcome to Fight-letico. Yeah, so we never told Antoine about the secret fight club because he’s always got thousands of cameras following him. Oh wait, f–k. The first rule of Fight-letico is: You do not talk about Fight-letico… unless a streaming service offers you a lot of money. Uh huh. Got it. Like how much money? The second rule of Fight-letico is: IF you do talk about Fight-letico because a streaming service offered you a lot of money, don’t take tax advice from your family. Smart. Totally. But like, seriously, like how much money? The third rule of Fight-letico: To get a red card for violent conduct is easy. To get your opponent sent off for doing nothing— that is the work of a true assh–e. This is the real Madrid…Atletico style. I know I’m not an Atletico player, but they told me they had a safe space for violence. Uh, yes please. Whoa. Haha, I know. It’s f–king intense. Uh…ouch. Finish him. I came back for this! Alright. I’m ready now. You gotta play to the whistle, Antoine. Look at that red-card virgin. Hey, what’s going on, tough guys? Grabbing your cojones? This is you. This is what you look like. And this is what you look like. I knocked you out of the Champions League, and I can knock you out right here. OK, I didn’t touch him. Stop shaking your heads disapprovingly. People love me. You all love me, right? Not cool, man. But without love I am just a shell. A really, really good-looking, talented shell! Wow. You are…shameless. I am legend. And legends need trophies! Okay, bye! Good fight, man. Good fight. (whispering) Wait. What did you say about mi madre?! What happens when 800 of the world’s most elite footballers and their managers compete in one musical variety show? Welcome to a very special episode of the Champions… UEFAVISION! I am your host, Sergio Ramos. Let’s get started with our first act! Since Real won last year, I’ve been forced to host the UEFAvision. OK, so why you and not one of your teammates? You don’t want me here? Pay me, I’ll leave. We are Messi. We are Messi. It is our fate. It is our fate. When we’re not blowing three-goal leads, we are great. Oh, we are Messi. It’s time to show. That we are so much better than Cristiano. Sucks! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, MY WIFE SHAKIRA. [yodeling] Fútbol. Game 1 we made Spurs look like a joke. But there’s two games in a tie. And you’d best believe, the second we— CHOKED! Now it’s transfer time. We goin’ Dutch. So, how was Ajax? I skipped the second half. In Porto! Wow. Pepe. Uh, who would have guessed? So I was sort of hoping that since I’m leaving, I wouldn’t have to join Dortmund on stage. Let’s just say the German performances can get…pretty out there. You like our Yellow Wall? Now face our wall of noise… WALL OF NOISE! Man, I miss those guys. Schalke null vier. Schalke no fear. Wir sind die Knappen. Take me…take me back to the finals of the Champions League! Next up, Atletico, the poor man’s Madrid. Singing for us will be my best friend, DRAKE! A girl up in my DMs, I think I’m gonna block her. I can’t talk, honey. I’m out here watching soccer. They want to go to club, but I can’t. God forbid. Cuz Lord knows I’m a big supporter of— Atletico Madrid. Wait. Atletico’s out?! Who’s in? Uh, Liverpool. So, yeah, growing up in Canada I’ve always been a huge fan of Liverpool. And that was PSG demonstrating why teamwork is important. And now for something completely different: too many English teams. That’s the same crap they played last year. Why do they think they have a chance this time? Oh, he’s good, yeah. Yeah! So Manchester’s Blue. So glad we’re not Man U. Funny how Alexis forgot how to score. They didn’t make top four. Wait, so he can sing in English, but he only speaks Spanish? I don’t get it. I might be just one man. But together, we’re one man United! Uniiiiiited…now that Jose’s gone. I came in like a cock-er-el. Ahhh! Oh. Ouch. Ooo. Um. OK, ladies and gentlemen, once again, Shakira! I can be a Champion.