If you are a football fan, you’ve probably imagined it countless times. Meeting the stars you grew up watching. Walking into the stadium of the club whose victories shaped your childhood weekends. Maybe, if luck ever smiled wide enough, catching a glimpse of them during a training session or waving as they leave after a match. It’s a fantasy so many hold on to quietly, the kind that feels too distant to ever come true.
But what happens when that dream finds you first? When the passion that once kept you up at 2 a.m. watching matches turns into the very thing that takes you to those stadiums, not as a spectator but as someone sitting across from the players themselves?
For Irfan Junejo, one of Pakistan’s most celebrated digital storytellers, that fantasy became reality. Through Begin, the official streaming partner of LaLiga in Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka, Junejo became the first Pakistani creator to represent the region at FC Barcelona’s base camp, interviewing players ahead of El Clásico, football’s most-watched rivalry. The collaboration, part of Begin’s effort to connect South Asian voices to global sports culture, gave Junejo a chance that few in this part of the world could even imagine – an exclusive, one-on-one conversation with the stars of a club he had supported since childhood.
What began as a boy’s late-night ritual of watching Ronaldinho and Messi on a flickering TV screen in Karachi had quietly transformed into a moment of global storytelling. Yet when that moment finally arrived, Junejo says, it wasn’t awe that filled his mind, it was focus.
A seat among the stars
“The moment I walked into Barcelona’s training facility, I was trying to contain everything – emotions, excitement, responsibility,” he recalls. “It’s not easy to get access to these players, so I knew I couldn’t afford to lose focus for even a second.”
Three cameras were rolling, two microphones were live, and the setting wasn’t as simple as it seemed. “The light wasn’t camera-friendly. If I made the players sit there, the background would get overexposed. So my mind instantly went to fixing that. No emotions at that point. Just the responsibility of getting it right.”
When asked whether memories of Ronaldinho or the early Barça days crossed his mind, Junejo shakes his head. “I had told myself that I’ve come here to work. Even if Messi walked in, I had to do my job. The thoughts and emotions could come later.”
Still, the fan inside him couldn’t be silenced completely. “The hardest moment to contain my excitement was when I saw the first player walk in,” he says. “I think it was Pao Kubarsí. He wasn’t assigned to me, but when he entered, my hands went cold. That’s when it really hit me where I was.”
It was during his first interview with Roony Bardghji, though, that the barrier between fan and professional began to fade. Junejo says, smiling, “[Roony] is very young, very chilled out. I asked him about his last match, the one where he chipped the ball, and the way he answered with a smile, I suddenly felt like I wasn’t a fan anymore. I wasn’t sitting across a Barcelona star. It felt like two friends talking about a game.”
The tone shifted when he met Jules Koundé. “Koundé was calm, collected, thoughtful,” Junejo says. “He spoke about fashion, how it gives people courage to be themselves, and not worry about what others say. The contrast between them was beautiful. With Roony, there was laughter and jokes. With Koundé, it was more about depth and perspective.”
For a lifelong Barcelona supporter, that mix of light conversation and deeper reflection became something else entirely, a reminder that the world he had admired from afar could be both human and reachable.
Focus before fanhood
Long before the cameras started rolling, Junejo knew that his preparation would define how well he handled the moment. “I did some research on Google,” he says simply. “I looked up key moments from their careers, which clubs they came from, when they joined Barcelona, and where their story began. I wanted to ask questions that reflected that understanding.”
He had planned to keep the tone conversational, but grounded in respect. For Koundé, he even traced his early career path to frame a question about beginnings, something personal, yet professional. It wasn’t about impressing the players with football trivia. It was about showing that he had come prepared, as a storyteller who knew their journey.
The day, however, carried its own surprises. “I thought there would only be two players,” he recalls. “But when I got there, I found out it was a full media day. There were international outlets, magazines, everyone waiting for their slot. It felt massive.”
Inside his bag was a Barcelona shirt and a marker, just in case. “I had a small plan to get my shirt signed,” he admits with a grin. “But once I saw how formal everything was, I realized this wasn’t the time. I didn’t want to look unprofessional.”
That moment became a quiet test of restraint. “I thought, if I just take a picture, that’s enough,” he says. “Because if I acted like a fan, maybe next time LaLiga wouldn’t trust a Pakistani creator again. I wanted to make sure I did everything right.”
Between the excitement and the pressure, what carried him through was focus. In a room full of global journalists, lights, and limited minutes, Junejo managed to hold his composure by reminding himself why he was there.
The journey of staying real
For someone who began by filming quiet moments on the streets of Karachi, sitting across from global football stars feels like a leap across worlds. Yet Junejo talks about it with the same calm that has defined his creative journey from the beginning. “I don’t really think about it too much, [I] just thank God,” he says. “I just keep my head down and keep working. If I think about it too much, I get complacent. You start believing everything is fine and then you stop improving or working hard. I’ve seen a lot of people fall into that.”
Junejo’s story has never been about loudness or spectacle. When he first picked up a camera, it wasn’t to chase virality but to tell stories that felt human, sincere, and still. His early YouTube videos were small glimpses into daily life – a walk through the city, a friend’s laughter, a moment of silence before prayer. That same restraint runs through his work today, even when the frame shifts from Karachi’s streets to Barcelona’s training ground.
He believes authenticity is what connects audiences across cultures. “Authenticity is really the foundation of all personal brands on social media,” he says. “Especially the ones that last long. How I keep it alive, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a personality trait.”
When asked about his favourite Barcelona memory, his face lights up with a laugh. “It would be Roony,” he says. “I told him that it was my wife’s birthday that day and asked if we could take a picture together. He was so nice about it. He wished her a happy birthday and we clicked a picture. I thought, first of all, the gift money is saved,” he jokes, “and second, this work is done.”
Finding meaning beyond the moment
Even after returning from Barcelona, Junejo speaks about the experience without a hint of self-celebration. For him, milestones are less about applause and more about alignment, when what he envisions in his head matches what finally comes to life. “In terms of purpose, yes, this experience did reaffirm a lot,” he says. “But I think it’s always a video-to-video thing. You work hard on something, and if the final product turns out the way you imagined it, you feel good. When it doesn’t, that’s when the self-doubt and imposter syndrome start creeping in. I don’t think that ever goes away, and maybe it’s just part of the creative process.”
What stood out was the intent behind his questions to the team. “I could’ve asked them to say my tagline, ‘Scenes kuch aisay hain,’ or made the moment about myself,” he says. “But instead, I asked them to share a message for Pakistan. Because that moment was bigger than me or my channel. There are far more Barcelona supporters in Pakistan than people who follow my work. So, I thought, why not make it about all of us?”
This is a small glimpse into the way Junejo is always balancing personal achievement with collective pride. When asked what he’d tell his younger self, the boy who stayed up late to watch Barcelona play, his answer comes without hesitation. “I’d tell him to keep dreaming and always dream big,” he said.
He pauses for a moment, reflecting. “Now I just hope this becomes something long-term. I’ve tried to deliver extra value to LaLiga and Begin so that this collaboration keeps going, maybe next season or the next Clásico, they invite someone else from Pakistan. Whether it’s me or another creator, the important thing is that it continues.”
As the flight back home lifted off from Barcelona, Junejo found himself scrolling through his playlist, trying to find the right song to bring his rare experience to a close. “I played a lot of songs on the flight,” he laughs. “But I was thinking about which one I’d use in my last social media post. I chose ‘You Don’t Know’ by Hassan Rahim.” The song carries verses that mirrored his emotions perfectly — gratitude, reflection, and a quiet sense of survival.
Listening to the song, he reflected on everything that made his dream come true – the late nights, the doubts, the prayers, and the constant push to keep creating.“It just felt like the right ending,” he shares.
What it means for Pakistan
For many in Pakistan’s creator community, Junejo’s trip looked like a symbolic breakthrough, a sign that local storytellers were finally finding a seat at the global table. Yet, he doesn’t see it that way. “I don’t think this signals a new era or anything,” he says plainly. “There isn’t much of a global reach yet. But wherever there are Barcelona fans who understand Urdu or Hindi, there’s definitely something for them. LaLiga is clearly trying to grow in these markets, and they’re actively doing something about it. That’s what makes this opportunity great.”
His humility cuts through the noise that often surrounds digital milestones. To him, the real value lies not in global recognition but in meaningful participation. The fact that a South Asian creator could sit across from players representing one of the world’s biggest football clubs already says enough about how far regional content has come.
That intersection of passion and purpose has shaped his journey. He talks about his achievement with gratitude, but never as a finish line. “It’s a great achievement, and I’m very grateful,” he says. “But the goalpost is always moving, as they say. You enjoy the moment, people around you celebrate it, and then you move on.”
For Junejo, this isn’t the end of a story, it’s just a sign that the story can continue. Each small step, he believes, should make it easier for the next Pakistani creator to walk a little further.
A new playbook for South Asia
To understand how this milestone fits within a larger vision for South Asia’s football fans, The Express Tribune Magazine also spoke with Jonathan Mark, CEO of Begin, the platform that made this collaboration possible.
Mark explains that the idea of sending a Pakistani representative to Barcelona came together almost overnight. “When the conversation with LaLiga started, we had less than a week to make the call,” he says. “We needed someone who wasn’t just a football fan, but who could carry the excitement authentically and represent both Pakistan and Begin in the right way.” He recalls that Junejo’s name came up almost instantly.
For Begin, this partnership was about more than one content opportunity. It was a step toward reshaping how Pakistan experiences global sports. “Our goal isn’t just to stream LaLiga,” Mark says. “We want to help build sports culture beyond cricket. Football is where we started, because millions here grew up loving the game but never had formal access or representation in the global football world.”
He believes moments like Junejo’s at Barcelona help turn fans into participants. “Passion becomes culture when people see themselves in the story,” he explains. “When someone who speaks like them and celebrates like them sits in those global spaces, it changes everything. Irfan gave Pakistani fans that moment.”
Begin’s broader vision goes beyond content and coverage. “We want LaLiga to see Pakistan not just as an audience but as a future talent hub,” Mark says. “That means training camps here, opportunities for young Pakistanis to go into LaLiga academies and, one day, seeing homegrown players on the same pitches we grew up watching.”
He calls this shift from visibility to participation a quiet but powerful change. “Pakistan has always had football passion,” he says. “What it lacked was recognition. With Begin, we’re trying to bridge that gap. Irfan’s interviews in Barcelona were just the beginning of a longer journey where Pakistani fans, creators, and eventually players can become part of global football culture.”
For Mark, the significance of Junejo’s moment lies in what it represents. “He wasn’t there as an outsider,” he says. “He was there as a voice from Pakistan, curious, confident, and passionate. That matters. It tells fans here that they belong in these conversations. If people watch that and feel a little more seen, then this milestone has already done its job.”
The last frame
As the lights dimmed over Barcelona and the plane took off toward Karachi, Junejo’s journey came full circle, from the quiet glow of a television screen in his childhood room to the blinding lights of the Camp Nou training ground. What began as sleepless nights spent watching Ronaldinho weave magic had turned into a story where he was part of the frame, not just watching from afar.
In that sense, his story is not only about football. It is about what happens when passion meets persistence, when creativity travels far enough to open doors for others.
For Pakistan’s young creators and fans, Junejo’s moment in Barcelona stands as a reminder that global stories are no longer out of reach. Sometimes, the distance between dream and reality is just a matter of doing the work, staying real, and keeping the camera rolling.