"A draw! Mission accomplished at last!"
Vukojević and Suker stood on the pitch, their arms draped over each other's shoulders as they chatted.
"You really didn't hold back, huh? How many tis did you slide-tackle ?" Suker grumbled.
"That's my job!" Vukojević grinned. "If you were on my team, I'd be the one slide-tackling for you."
"That's more like it."
Suker put his hands on his hips and suddenly exclaid, "Damn it, you nutgged ! I don't even dare check my phone now! Those bastards must've watched the match."
Vukojević replied, "I already turned mine off."
Suker nodded, then asked, "Where's Tomi?"
He hadn't seen Duimović for a while.
Vukojević sighed, "Let him be."
Duimović didn't get any minutes in this match. Though it wasn't unusual for him, seeing his two teammates shine on the pitch surely made it sting more.
"I gotta go!"
Maldini was already calling Suker over.
Vukojević nodded. "See you in the next match!"
Suker turned and clenched his fist. "I'll show you next ti!"
Back in the locker room, Suker grabbed his phone—and sure enough, the ssages started pouring in.
Mandžukić, Srna, Pranjić, even Modrić joined the roast session.
Suker instantly powered off his phone—out of sight, out of mind.
AC Milan managed a draw at Lyon's ho ground.
Not a perfect result, but not a bad one either. An away draw was acceptable.
Back at the San Siro, they'd surely give a stronger performance.
That night, the Milan squad flew back to Italy.
The next day, the rest of the Champions League quarterfinal first legs were played.
At ho, Suk and Kaká watched Barcelona vs Manchester United on TV.
The score: Barcelona 1–0 Manchester United.
Despite United boasting talents like Cristiano Ronaldo, Rooney, and Modrić, Barcelona had a peak Ronaldinho.
His terrifying dribbling and forward runs gave Suker goosebumps.
That's just how the "Football Magician" played—relentlessly wrecking defensive lines with sheer skill.
Passing, dribbling, shooting—he was elite in all.
Ronaldinho was dazzling, while England's lumbering defenders could only bring him down again and again to halt Barça's attacks.
But when Ronaldinho curled in a free-kick goal, Suker just shook his head.
"No chance."
He was unstoppable. Even surrounded by United players, they couldn't get close to the ball.
In terms of raw talent, Ronaldinho was unmatched—a potential Ballon d'Or winner—though his lack of discipline would ultimately squander it all.
"Barcelona's whole system is built around Ronaldinho. They maximize his skill. He's just too good," Kaká praised his national teammate.
He, too, called him Ronaldinho—mainly due to Portuguese naming conventions.
Ronaldinho's full na was Ronaldo de Assis Moreira.
To differentiate him from Ronaldo (Ronaldo Luís Nazário de Lima), teammates started calling him "Ronaldinho."
In Portuguese, "-inho" ans "little," so "Ronaldinho" translates to "Little Ronaldo."
Suker kept his eyes on the screen, watching Ronaldinho's nimble footwork with envy.
When will I ever be able to dribble like that? he thought.
This guy might be ugly—with his buck teeth and all—but football made him beautiful.
The cara cut to Modrić.
He was drenched in sweat, still playing like a madman.
Even though he already had a yellow card, Modrić was shouting and directing the midfield with endless energy.
But the young Modrić wasn't a match for peak Ronaldinho.
Especially since Barça's midfield was stacked.
United's loss wasn't undeserved.
In the end, Manchester United lost 0–3 away to Barcelona.
Suker got up, patting his butt.
"Ti for bed."
Kaká turned. "No midnight snacks?"
Suker shot him a glare. "You need to control your appetite!"
One more snack and that groin injury might flare up again—or worse, he'd slow down and wreck his form entirely.
Denied his snack, Kaká walked off sulking.
The first leg of the Champions League quarterfinals ca to an end.
Eight teams vying for four spots.
So won, so lost.
The best perforrs were Barcelona and Arsenal, both of whom secured ho wins.
AC Milan drew away to Lyon.
Inter Milan lost 0–1 away to Villarreal.
For Milan, while they had to prepare for their Champions League ho leg, they also couldn't ignore the dostic league.
The following week, the pressure was imnse.
They had to face Juventus away in Serie A, then host Lyon just three days later.
Ancelotti made rotations to manage fatigue.
Kaká and Shevchenko were benched.
Inzaghi started.
April 2nd – 2005/2006 Serie A, Matchday 32: Juventus vs AC Milan
After losing the reverse fixture to Milan earlier in the season, Juventus were itching for revenge.
And they played brilliantly this ti.
In the first half, Ibrahimović scored with a bicycle kick to give Juventus the lead. From there, they locked down defensively and waited to counter.
Starting Lineups:
Juventus (4-3-3):GK: BuffonDF: Chiellini, Zebina, Thuram, CannavaroMF: Vieira, Nedvěd, ErsonFW: Ibrahimović, Trezeguet, Mutu
AC Milan (4-3-1-2):GK: DidaDF: Cafu, Nesta, Stam, MaldiniMF: Gattuso, Pirlo, SeedorfFW: Gilardino, Suker, Inzaghi
By the 87th minute, the score was still Juventus 1–0 Milan.
At the 61st minute, Ancelotti had subbed in Shevchenko for Inzaghi, but it didn't change much.
Now, desperate for an equalizer, Milan pressed harder.
Suker kept running, creating space, glancing at Shevchenko and Gilardino's positions.
Vieira was still glued to him, making life tough.
With stoppage ti looming, Suker suddenly dropped deep.
He sprinted back quickly.
Vieira followed, but Suker noticed his opponent's posture—head bobbing slightly forward—aning he was gassed.
Suker slamd the brakes.
Vieira tried to stop too, but slipped.
"Now!"
Suker turned and dashed forward.
Pirlo spotted him and threaded the ball into open space.
"Suker!! He's free!!"
Suker latched onto the pass and sprinted on.
Without even glancing to the side, he kept charging forward.
Cannavaro tensed up. Suker passed wide to Gilardino and cut inside again.
Gilardino chipped the ball into the box.
Suker tid his run perfectly, beating the offside trap.
No whistle—he was onside!
The ball dropped.
Cannavaro was closing in fast.
Suker knew he had no ti to adjust.
One extra touch and the chance would vanish.
As the ball bounced, Suker twisted his hips and volleyed with his right foot.
A clean hit. The ball zipped along the turf.
Buffon got a fingertip to it, but it deflected in.
Equalizer. Last-minute.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM—
Juventus fans erupted in furious boos.
Suker didn't care. He sprinted to the cara and celebrated with a knee slide.
"YESSS!!" he roared.
After being tightly marked all ga, he finally broke free.
Pure release.
"Suker!! It's Suker again!!"
Comntator Aldo Serena shouted in excitent, "He always shows up like this! A hat-trick against Inter! A last-minute equalizer against Roma! And now Juventus!"
"He always shatters these giants' dreams of beating AC Milan!"
"He's a killer of giants!!"
"This is the Killer of Giants!!!"
Milan fans at the stadium went wild.
An equalizer like this was priceless.
Even though they didn't win, snatching a point away from ho was massive.
They'd been behind for over 80 minutes and nearly lost it.
In the Juventus half, Vieira was hunched over, panting hard.
Occasionally, he looked like he was about to gag.
Wiping his mouth, he muttered, "Why does that guy run so much?!"
He had marked Suker for nearly 80 minutes—and still couldn't keep up in the end.
After Suker's equalizer, three minutes of added ti passed.
The final whistle blew.
Juventus 1:1 AC Milan.
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