May 23 – UEFA Champions League Final Night.
On the final stage, Inter Milan and Manchester United battled fiercely for 120 minutes.
In the end, Inter Milan erged victorious with a 3-2 win, lifting the 2009/2010 UEFA Champions League trophy.
This marked José Mourinho's second Champions League triumph, following his earlier success with Porto.
But this ti, it wasn't just another title—it was a historic feat.
Mourinho led Inter to a treble: winning Serie A, the Coppa Italia, and the Champions League, creating an unprecedented legacy for the club.
It was a night of unbridled joy for all Inter Milan fans.
As the match concluded, amid roaring cheers, Inter players raised the iconic "Big Ears" trophy.
For many, this was their first taste of European glory.
A magical night—one full of excitent and unforgettable mories.
But amid the celebration, sothing shocking unfolded.
"What? How can this be? Why?"
Marco Materazzi stared at Mourinho in disbelief.
On this night of glory and celebration, he received a piece of news that he simply couldn't comprehend.
Mourinho had decided to step down as Inter Milan's manager.
Together, they had just completed a near-mythical season.
At the twilight of Materazzi's career, this Portuguese man had guided them to the summit of Europe.
It should have been a night of celebration—but the farewell ca too suddenly.
"This is my final decision. I'm truly sorry, but I'll never forget you all. This has been one of the proudest monts of my life—coaching such an extraordinary team. But it's ti to say goodbye!"
Inside Inter Milan's tactical room, silence prevailed.
No one could believe what was happening.
Mourinho was leaving—right after winning it all.
Many turned to captain Javier Zanetti, hoping he would say it was a joke—even though it wasn't April Fool's Day.
Unfortunately, Zanetti had his head down, silently confirming the news.
The players were heartbroken.
Their joy from winning the treble was instantly extinguished, leaving an empty, hollow feeling.
After a long silence, Zanetti stood up: "Regardless, we should go see the boss off."
With that, he walked out of the locker room.
One by one, the players followed.
In a narrow alley near the Inter Milan training center, a black sedan was parked.
Mourinho stood in front of the car, waving farewell to the players.
As he got into the vehicle, many players broke down in tears.
As the car passed a corner, Mourinho noticed soone leaning against the wall.
After two years together, he instantly recognized the silhouette—Materazzi.
Hiding in the alley, arms behind his back, Materazzi looked like a child who had just lost his father.
Afraid that his tears would be too overwhelming, he didn't dare look directly at Mourinho.
When the car stopped and Mourinho stepped out to approach him—
Materazzi's tears gushed uncontrollably.
"Goodbye!"
Mourinho hugged Materazzi tightly, patting him on the back before resolutely returning to the car.
The piercing red taillights faded into the distance as Mourinho slowly disappeared from view.
At that mont, Inter players stood there with teary eyes.
On the night of their greatest glory, they lost the very man who brought it to them.
Mourinho stepped down and left the city of Milan.
"Did you really have to go this fast?"
Inside the car, Jorge ndes sighed, "You should've spent more ti with them—they really didn't want you to leave."
Mourinho took a deep breath: "No matter how reluctant, the decision is made."
ndes sighed again.
Though Mourinho's departure was sudden, he left behind a legendary legacy at Inter.
Huuuh~~
Mourinho took a deep breath, pulled out so docunts from his briefcase, and began reviewing them.
ndes glanced at the papers and saw nas like:
Suker, Ramos, Di María, Alonso...
Mourinho was scheduled to sign his contract with Real Madrid that very night, and the club had imdiately sent over detailed player information.
As Mourinho studied the data, his eyes sparkled with excitent.
He was especially impressed by Suker's training and match statistics, occasionally letting out gasps of admiration.
It didn't take long before his sorrow from earlier faded away, replaced by focused determination.
"We going straight to Spain?" ndes asked.
Mourinho shook his head: "No, give one hour first."
——
Darijo Srna looked stunned.
The Mourinho who had just left… was now sitting in his house with ndes.
Mourinho took a sip of water, exhaled slowly, and got straight to the point.
"I'll be brief, Srna. Do you want to co with to Real Madrid?"
Boom!
Srna felt like sothing exploded in his mind.
Real Madrid?
He was dazed by the suddenness of the offer.
Mourinho didn't push.
ndes, however, smiled and added, "You can talk to your agent Zorancic. Or if you're interested, consider switching to ."
Srna ignored ndes entirely, his face turning red with excitent.
"Boss, I'm in!"
It's Real Madrid! It's the Bernabéu! Who could turn that down?
And Suker was there too—he'd be playing alongside his national teammate.
Although it had taken him a while to integrate into Inter's dressing room, this ti it'd be different—Suker would have his back.
"Great. I'll notify Inter Milan to make the transfer offer."
With that, Mourinho got up and left.
He'd always been this decisive.
Srna stood in stunned silence.
But the mont the reality sank in—that he was about to join Real Madrid—he couldn't help but jump for joy.
Ring ring!
In Madrid, Suker had just stepped out of the shower when his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen—Srna was calling.
Click! Suker declined the call.
"That bastard's calling to brag about winning the Champions League…"
Ring ring!
Decline.
Ring ring!
Decline.
Ring ring!
Decline.
Ding! A ssage this ti.
Suker annoyedly opened it.
[You bastard! Pick up! I'm not calling to brag!]
Suker sighed and finally called back.
As soon as the call connected:
"If you brag even once, I'm hanging up."
Srna: "Mourinho invited to join Real Madrid!"
Suker froze.
"Huh?"
Then he quickly figured it out.
Mourinho must've signed the intent deal with the club—and now, he was not coming alone.
He was bringing Srna with him.
"What the hell?! You're joining Real Madrid?"
"Surprised?"
"Why you, of all people?"
"Screw you!"
"HAHAHAHA!" Suker burst into laughter. "We'll be teammates next season. Co on over, I got your back!"
"As soon as the World Cup ends, I'm moving!"
"There's no official announcent yet—stay cool."
"They can't stop !"
Clearly, Srna was high on excitent from the news.
After a bit more chatter, the call ended.
Suker, still grinning, suddenly dialed another number.
"Evening, Suker. I'm just—"
Before Kaká could finish, Suker barked:
"Real Madrid sent you a transfer offer, right? Don't hesitate—accept it! You stay any longer, your career's done. Leave so money behind for Berlusconi to fix his finances. Oh—and by the way, Madrid's got deep pockets right now. Squeeze more out of them—it's my way of helping my old club."
Inside AC Milan's boardroom, Kaká sat frozen.
Across from him, Berlusconi was fuming.
Florentino Pérez looked like he was having a facial spasm.
Click!
Kaká hung up awkwardly and said with a laugh, "That wasn't Suker, I swear."
Both Berlusconi and Pérez rolled their eyes.
But then they couldn't help but chuckle.
They knew—this was just how Suker was.
Blunt, but honest.
Berlusconi grinned and asked, "About your finances...?"
Florentino stiffened. "Probably the bank loan just got approved."
"And the transfer fee?"
Florentino sighed, "€75 million. Let's stick to the original price."
Berlusconi smiled in satisfaction.
"Deal!"
La Liga Matchday 38, Real Madrid defeated Mallorca 2–0 away and clinched the league title with a four-point lead.
Right after lifting the La Liga trophy, they began preparing for the Copa del Rey final—against Atlético Madrid.
That night welcod a special guest.
Accompanied by Florentino Pérez, Mourinho appeared in the VIP box at stalla Stadium.
Two days earlier, he had signed his contract with Real Madrid.
From the 2010/2011 season onward, Mourinho would officially take charge.
Although his term hadn't begun, he was eager to observe the team in action with a manager's perspective.
Real Madrid starting XI:
GK: Casillas
DEF: Arbeloa, Pepe, Ramos, Marcelo
MID: Di María, Gago, Alonso, Diarra
FWD: Benzema, Suker
At the 38th minute, the score was tied 1–1. The match was tense.
Real Madrid's defense was constantly under threat from Atlético.
"Poor positioning… awful discipline… no defensive cohesion…"
Mourinho muttered nonstop.
Despite the squad's individual quality, their lack of tactical structure led to chaotic football.
He couldn't believe Pellegrini ignored such major flaws.
"We need to toughen up the backline. They have the strength, but need targeted training."
"Transition in midfield is too stiff. What's Gago doing so far forward?"
Mourinho was exasperated.
The talent was there—but it wasn't being used properly.
"This coaching staff is useless."
He turned to Pérez: "We need to fix the midfield."
Pérez smiled, "How about Kaká?"
"Kaká?" Mourinho was stunned.
He'd be perfect.
Kaká wasn't just a playmaker now—he could pass, organize, defend, and control tempo.
Kaká and Alonso together would make an incredible supply line for Suker.
"But he won't co cheap," Mourinho frowned.
Pérez grinned: "That's for managent to worry about. The deal's already done. You'll see him next season."
Mourinho smiled.
"But we also need a new fullback."
"Marcelo doesn't work?"
"No—the other one."
"Arbeloa?"
"Yes. I suggest we bring in Srna. He was excellent at Inter, fits our tactics, and has chemistry with Suker."
Pérez nodded, "No problem."
Satisfied, Mourinho turned back to the ga.
At that mont, Alonso launched a long pass behind Atlético's defense.
Suker chased.
"Bit too much on that ball…"
Then Mourinho saw Suker accelerate.
"He can still speed up?"
He watched in awe as Suker burst forward, stretched out his leg, and stopped the ball.
Under pressure, Suker pulled off a roulette move—not to dribble, but to tap it into the inside channel.
Di María arrived just in ti, drove into the box, and unleashed a fierce shot.
"YES!"
But Atlético's goalkeeper made a miraculous save, tipping it away to the right.
Mourinho shook his head.
The shot was solid—but the keeper was exceptional.
The ball landed by Suker again.
He took it, dribbled horizontally, dragging defenders like waves.
Suddenly, he stopped, spun, nudged it forward—and fired!
A diagonal shot.
The ball nutgged two players, slamd the left post, and went in.
"Gooooooooooooooooooooooooal!!!!!!! Suker!!!!!!!!!!"
The announcer roared.
Mourinho stared wide-eyed, gripping his files into a crumpled ss.
What finishing! What efficiency!
This was Suker.
Give him a chance, and he'll score.
Under Mourinho's system, even the first touch could've been a shot.
That's what Mourinho craved: simple, effective counterattacks.
He was thrilled.
This team wasn't like Inter.
This Real Madrid was a blank canvas bursting with potential.
No existing system. All raw talent.
And Mourinho held the brush.
No manager could resist this temptation.
In the second half, Real Madrid began to sit back.
Not wrong in theory—but their defending was atrocious.
Center-backs overcommitting, unclear roles.
Fullbacks kept reaching instead of holding position—easily beaten.
Only through fouls, aggression, and raw talent did they hold on.
Suker's threat on the counter also kept Atlético cautious.
But Mourinho saw it all as a waste.
If he were coaching, Atlético would be in tatters.
In the 77th minute, Madrid made a substitution.
Mourinho lost his cool.
"Who's this idiot? We're winning—why sub first?"
Pérez sighed: "It's the B-team coach."
Mourinho nodded.
And ntally crossed off all Real Madrid B-tears.
Thanks to that coach, even the youth team lost Mourinho's favor.
He wouldn't bother with them.
Real Madrid had money and fa—why develop youth?
Why wait when you could buy instant firepower?
Still, despite the chaos, Real Madrid's individuals delivered.
Final Score: Real Madrid 2–1 Atlético Madrid.
They won the Copa del Rey— their second trophy of the season.
Reviews
All reviews (0)