The Europa League is funny business. There’s always a certain flavor to it—a little desperation, a smidge of continental mystery, and, occasionally, a sense that the universe is testing who wants to avoid Thursday night embarrassment the most. As Celta Vigo welcome Nice to the Estadio Abanca-Balaídos, both sides arrive not so much riding a wave as clinging to driftwood in a tournament where three points taste sweeter than sangria—and are about as rare lately.

Time to cut through the pleasantries: this is a relegation dogfight disguised as group-stage glamour. With Celta Vigo perched precariously in 13th spot and Nice languishing at 31st, smiles are in short supply, and points are the local currency accepted nowhere else. There’s only three points between them—which, if you’re Nice, feels like a canyon, given their goose-egg start. Forget ballet. This match is all about grit, nerve, and the seductive terror of being bottom when the music stops.

Celta Vigo’s recent form? Picture a marching band that keeps losing its tuba. They’ve registered a DLLWD rhythm: not exactly championship stuff, but just enough pulse to keep the undertaker at bay. They stole a draw against Atletico Madrid—thanks to the ageless Iago Aspas, who still looks more likely to assist a goal than fill out a retirement form. Then came a statement win over PAOK—three different scorers, a glimmer of actual attacking intent. But for every step forward, there’s been a stumble: close losses against Elche and Stuttgart raise the question, can they close out a big night when the stakes are this sharp?

Key storyline? It’s all about Iago Aspas and Borja Iglesias. Aspas has spent the last decade looking like the best player who’d rather be fishing, but when the pressure mounts, he’s the guy you want whistling past the graveyard. Iglesias, meanwhile, is the sort of striker who never met a scruffy goal he didn’t like. If these two fire, Celta have real bite. If not, the hosts risk joining Nice in the Europa League’s basement.

Then there’s Nice, whose form resembles a French art film: a beautiful struggle with no clear hero. LLDLD in their last five, averaging fewer goals than an apology tour. But don’t tell that to Sofiane Diop or Terem Moffi—each has a knack for popping up when most have left for the exits. Diop’s recent braces against Monaco were a reminder: when he’s allowed to drift inside, things happen. Moffi, with his directness, should keep Celta’s back line honest. Problem is, Nice have made a habit of losing leads, conceding momentum, and generally leaving their manager searching for answers under the couch cushions.

So what does this tactical chess match look like? Celta will want to play off the crowd, press high, and let Aspas float into those half-spaces where he can pull defenders out of position. Expect Swedberg to add width and some chaos if the game drags. Nice, meanwhile, will lean on Diop to find pockets, with Moffi hoping to exploit any lapse in concentration. The battle in midfield will be hotter than a Galician summer—if Celta’s engine room wins the turnover game, they’re favorites.

But here comes the twist: both teams have been oddly porous. Celta haven’t mustered a clean sheet in weeks, and Nice have shown all the defensive discipline of a kitten with string. The script screams “who blinks first”—which usually means we’re in for late drama, maybe a scramble in the six-yard box, and possibly the sort of sweaty-palmed penalty that keeps keepers awake at night.

Let’s talk stakes. For Nice, another loss turns the Europa League into a math problem that needs divine intervention. For Celta, three points sets them up as group survivors rather than passengers. Drop points here, and you’re not just fighting for Thursday night relevance—you’re making travel plans for next year’s second-tier continental bingo night.

Prediction time, with all the caution of a man who’s seen too many last-minute own goals: Celta Vigo look better equipped for the grind. Home crowd, Aspas in decent knick, and just enough recent spark to suggest they can seize the moment. But don’t expect a procession. Nice aren’t here for tapas—they’re here to scrap, and Diop could play spoiler. The feeling is a 2-1 win for Celta, maybe with some wild swings and a defensive blunder tossed in for flavor.

It’s not the headliner, but sometimes the best theater is on the edge of the abyss. Thursday in Vigo? Nobody’s safe, everybody’s desperate, and the only guarantee is a match where survival means everything and style goes out the window—except, perhaps, for the last man standing with champagne and three points to his name.