If you’re looking for a comforting underdog story, the kind where the little guy throws haymakers at the heavyweight champ—think Rocky versus Apollo, or, for the real heads, Daniel LaRusso crane-kicking Johnny Lawrence in The Karate Kid—then circle this Wydad Fès vs. Chabab Mohammédia showdown on your dusty October calendar. Because on paper, this looks like a mismatch straight out of a Disney scriptwriter’s wildest fever dream, but the kind of ugly, desperate clash that Botola 2 delivers with a smirk every single week.

Let’s set the scene with a little context. Chabab Mohammédia swagger into this match like they own the place: top of the table, seven points from three matches, undefeated and acting like they’ve just landed a starring role in the Botola Pro’s coming attractions. They’re that hot new band everyone’s whispering about, and every time they take the pitch they remind you of the early Oasis—cocky, loud, and surprisingly tight. Two wins, a draw, and most importantly, a defense that has given up just two goals in three matches. There’s a little bit of swagger and a truckload of belief. You can see it in the way they close games out, especially in that 1-0 grind against Chabab Ben Guerir that looked like it was going nowhere for 80 minutes until they knifed in the winner.

Meanwhile, Wydad Fès are basically the band who can’t decide if they want to rehearse or just quit music altogether. Their start to this campaign is…well, let’s call it what it is: abysmal. One point from three, fifteenth in the league, and a goal tally that looks like the hope meter in a post-apocalyptic zombie flick. Zero wins, a single draw, and two losses where the drama came late and the hope died young. It’s no shock their last victory is as distant as the last time you enjoyed a guilt-free Sunday. They’re scraping the bottom, looking up at everyone else.

But—and here’s where the football gods get mischievous—this is exactly the kind of matchup that makes Botola 2 such a delicious sideshow. Wydad Fès do desperate like Tony Soprano does therapy: not pretty, but deeply compelling. This is a team that’s not just fighting for three points; they’re fighting for relevance, for self-respect, maybe even just to convince themselves that the relegation zone is a bad dream they’ll wake up from. That can make them dangerous, even if the recent form sheet looks like a parking ticket.

The tactical subplots are where things get spicy. Expect Chabab Mohammédia to play on the front foot—pressing high, rotating quickly through midfield, probing for that early weakness like they’re the T-1000 in Terminator 2. The question is, can Wydad Fès patch their leaky defense in time? Because if they give up quick goals, this could look like Bambi’s mom all over again.

Key players? Let’s talk difference-makers. For Chabab Mohammédia, all eyes are on their attacking duo—call them the Moroccan Batman and Robin. They’ve combined for four goals already, and their transition play is smoother than George Clooney in a Nespresso ad. If they get even a whiff of defensive uncertainty (which, let’s be blunt, Wydad Fès have been dishing out for free lately), you can expect fireworks and an early knockout punch.

Wydad Fès, meanwhile, need someone—anyone—to step up and play hero. Their attack has averaged a measly 0.3 goals per game across the last three matches. That’s not just bad; that’s “try turning it off and on again” bad. But desperate teams have a way of finding unlikely saviors. Watch for their late-game sub, a spark plug midfielder who scored the 80th-minute equalizer in their solitary draw. If this match is close late? Don’t blink.

And, of course, let’s not ignore what’s at stake. For Chabab Mohammédia, it’s about staying top, keeping that momentum rolling, and sending a message to the rest: yes, this early-season surge is for real. They’re the establishment now, the team everyone wants to take down a peg.

For Wydad Fès? It’s existential. They are staring at the kind of early-season hole that’s tough to climb out of, even if your squad suddenly channels their inner Ted Lasso. Lose here, and the math starts getting ugly. Win—and suddenly, hope. Suddenly, belief. Suddenly, the kind of storyline that makes fans believe that maybe, just maybe, this season isn’t a lost cause.

So what’s the prediction? On form, you’d mortgage the house on Chabab Mohammédia, but football has a way of making fools out of forecasters. If Wydad Fès can summon just a whiff of that underdog magic—pressing hard, staying organized, nicking a goal on the break—then maybe, just maybe, we get a Hollywood ending. Maybe we get a match that’s less Rocky vs. Apollo I and more Rocky II: the rematch, the upset, the crowd on its feet, and an improbable hero with his arms in the air.

That’s why we watch. That’s why the lights stay on. See you at kickoff.