Starting With Real Madrid

Something's wrong. Everything's wrong.

Cristiano Ronaldo moved cautiously across the pitch, waiting for his teammates to create space and provide him with opportunities.

Ferguson had told him before: Once you start moving, you won't be restricted by your opponents.

And sure enough, in recent years, his goal tally had skyrocketed, even reaching new career highs.

But tonight—tonight felt different.

In fact, not just tonight. Even in the first leg at the Stadio San Paolo, something had felt off.

He couldn't quite explain it. The ball just wasn't coming off his foot the way it should. Every touch felt awkward, every movement out of sync.

Tonight, he had frequently drifted to the wings, trying to increase his touches, attempting to create something through his movement. But it wasn't working.

Neither in this match nor in the first leg had Rooney or Park Ji-sung managed to gain any real advantage over Napoli's defense.

Park Ji-sung, known for his agility and speed, found no edge against Vargas. The Peruvian full-back not only matched him in movement but was also physically stronger. Park struggled to hold onto the ball, let alone make meaningful passes.

Rooney, on the other hand, was physically capable of holding off Lichtsteiner, even enjoying a slight advantage. But he had been dropping too deep. Without the necessary acceleration or dribbling ability, he couldn't drive forward once he received the ball.

In the past, Rooney could control possession, deliver long passes, and link up with his teammates. But in these two matches, Napoli had marked him tightly, denying him passing lanes.

As a result, Ronaldo had been forced to move wide to offer support.

But every time he received the ball, Napoli's defenders were already on him, shutting him down before he could make an impact.

This wasn't how he thrived.

He didn't need these endless battles for possession, he needed the chance to attack the defense directly, to drive at goal.

After the first leg, he had already raised the issue with Ferguson. He didn't feel comfortable playing as a center-forward.

And this wasn't new. Ferguson had tested him in the role multiple times before, and each time Ronaldo had expressed his doubts.

But Ferguson had insisted:

"This is the best position for you right now!"

Just thinking about it made Ronaldo feel a wave of frustration.

As he saw United's midfield struggling to advance the ball, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He dropped back, raised his hand, and called for the pass.

Receiving the ball, he immediately attempted to drive forward, only to be taken down by Thiago Motta's well-timed tackle. The referee awarded United a free kick from about 30 meters out.

Without discussing with anyone, Ronaldo took the shot himself.

But the ball sailed high over the crossbar.

Two consecutive matches as a center-forward, something that had happened several times this season, but never in a moment as critical as the Champions League semi-finals.

Ronaldo, desperate to push his team forward, found himself restricted instead.

He had the ability. But nowhere to apply it.

And that, more than anything, frustrated him.

For the first time, he found himself regretting not leaving Manchester United last year.

Back in 2006, after his infamous clash with Rooney at the World Cup in Germany, Ronaldo had become a villain in England. At the time, he had wanted to leave for Real Madrid.

Ferguson, however, had personally flown to Lisbon to convince him to stay, promising to build the team around him. His agent, Jorge Mendes, also felt the timing wasn't right.

So, he stayed.

Two years later, he led Manchester United to Champions League glory, defended the Premier League title, and helped restore the club to its dominant status.

That was when Real Madrid's president, Ramón Calderón, came knocking again.

Looking back, Ronaldo found Calderón laughable.

At the time, he had made it clear: as long as Madrid could convince Manchester United to sell, he was ready to move.

But what happened?

Calderón never dared to enter negotiations. He backed down the moment United quoted a €100 million transfer fee. Instead of pushing for the deal, he froze and as a result, Brazilian forward Robinho left Madrid in anger.

Later, Ferguson had come to him again, promising:

"Give me one more year. If the offer is right, I'll let you go."

Now, the funniest part?

Calderón was telling everyone that he and Ronaldo had some secret agreement in place.

Ridiculous.

How could such an agreement exist? How would it even be enforced? Was it legally binding? Who would oversee it?

And what if something unexpected happened? What then?

If a force majeure clause was included, would the contract even hold value?

The entire thing was nonsense, and it only served to agitate Ronaldo further.

Especially now, now that the match itself was growing more frustrating.

Beyond the frustration of his own struggles, he could sense something else: Napoli was gradually pushing forward.

It was subtle, but noticeable.

Every time they successfully defended, their defensive line inched further up the pitch.

Now, nearly twenty minutes in, even when United had possession, Napoli's defensive block had crept well beyond their 30-meter line.

And then, in one particular sequence, Ronaldo recognized the danger.

As United tried to build another attack, the midfield once again struggled to progress the ball.

Reading the situation, Ronaldo immediately dropped deeper, motioning for a pass.

Fletcher obliged, sending the ball his way.

But David Luiz was right there, pressing into him the moment he received it.

Ronaldo found himself outside Napoli's 30-meter area, back to goal.

With no space to turn, he opted for a quick layoff, tapping the ball sideways to Fletcher.

But Rakitic had anticipated it.

The Croatian midfielder lunged forward, intercepting the pass with a slight deflection off his leg.

The ball still reached Fletcher, but his first touch was too heavy.

Seeing the opportunity, Vargas abandoned Park Ji-sung and rushed in.

Before Fletcher could recover, Vargas won the ball, immediately redirecting it toward Thiago Motta.

Fletcher tried to close him down, but Motta was stronger.

Shielding the ball with his body, the Brazilian took a couple of quick lateral touches before spotting an opening.

Then, without hesitation.

He sent the ball forward to Biglia, who was waiting in space.

The Argentine midfielder stopped the ball with a smooth touch, turned, and scanned the field. Without hesitation, he launched a long diagonal pass.

The ball cut across the pitch, traveling from deep on Napoli's right side to the left wing in the attacking third.

Di Maria, already sprinting forward, timed his run perfectly to meet Biglia's pass.

With a sharp first touch, he controlled the ball, then feinted a pass, just enough to shake off O'Shea, who lunged in to intercept.

In an instant, Di Maria accelerated again, breaking past Manchester United's right-back and surging down the flank.

For a brief moment, Old Trafford fell silent.

"Napoli's quick counterattack!"

"Di Maria controls beautifully!"

"Look at this attack, Manchester United's defense is retreating fast, but Di Maria is even faster!"

Ferdinand scrambled back, positioning himself on the left side of the penalty area, anticipating Di Maria's move as the Argentine drove into the box.

But just as Di Maria reached the penalty area, he stopped suddenly, feinting as if he was about to cut inside.

Ferdinand immediately reacted, shifting to block the move.

Then—another sudden feint.

Di Maria's movements were so precise, so deceptive, that Ferdinand fell for it completely.

In one fluid motion, Di Maria executed a sharp turn, dribbled to the byline with his left foot, and slipped past Ferdinand inside the box.

The entire sequence was eerily similar to the goal from the first leg.

Ferdinand lunged desperately, attempting a last-ditch tackle but he was too late.

As Di Maria broke free, he lifted his head, taking a quick glance:

Van der Sar was coming off his line.

Cavani was tightly marked, pinned between Vidic and the goal, making it almost impossible to find a clean passing lane.

Manchester United's defense was world-class.

Even in split-second reactions, they instinctively closed down the most dangerous threats.

But Napoli's greatest strength wasn't just speed, it was the layers of their attack.

Di Maria understood the situation immediately.

He knew a direct pass to Cavani was too risky.

So, without hesitation, he cut the ball back, delivering a perfect inverted-triangle pass from the byline to the right side of the penalty spot.

At that moment, Cavani had surged forward, tangled between Vidic in front and Evra behind.

But Sanchez—who had initially been covered by Evra had smartly held back his run, finding space exactly where the ball arrived.

The Chilean winger controlled the ball with his right foot, adjusted slightly, then unleashed a fierce first-time shot.

The ball rocketed into the lower right corner of the goal, slamming against the net.

"GOALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!"

"21st minute! The 21st minute!!"

"A lightning-fast counterattack from Napoli!"

"Sanchez! The Chilean winger has just put Napoli ahead against Manchester United with a stunning finish!"

On the sidelines, Gao Shen saw it unfold.

The moment Di Maria's pass found Sanchez, he knew it was in.

And when Sanchez fired the shot?

Gao Shen exploded with emotion.

"YES! YESSSSS!!"

He jumped up, fists clenched, roaring at the top of his lungs. His face was alight with passion, almost wild with excitement.

He nearly charged onto the pitch, unable to contain himself, only to be held back by Carlo and Zidane, who rushed in from both sides.

They wrapped their arms around him, their faces just as ecstatic.

"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"

"That was incredible!"

"Oh my God, we've turned it around!"

One by one, the assistant coaches flooded in, surrounding Gao Shen in celebration.

On the field, Napoli's players sprinted toward Sanchez, piling onto him in jubilation.

"One-nil!"

"Napoli now leads 2-1 on aggregate! They've turned the tie around!"

"And what a performance, it has to be said, Napoli's defensive discipline and counterattacking execution have been outstanding tonight at Old Trafford."

"They started with a structured defensive approach, but when they attacked, they did so with precision. This was Napoli's third shot of the game and the most dangerous one. And they buried it."

"Gao Shen has clearly learned from the first leg. Napoli has been more composed tonight, and their counterattacks have been sharper, more targeted."

After celebrating with his teammates, Sanchez and the Napoli players ran toward the touchline, heading straight for the coaching staff.

High-fives. Hugs. Laughter.

"Well done!"

"Stay focused!"

"We have the lead now, but keep your shape. Watch for United's response. Hold firm!"

Gao Shen barked his instructions, his voice carrying above the roar of the crowd.

The Napoli players already fully committed to their manager's tactics nodded in agreement.

Old Trafford erupted with boos as frustrated Manchester United fans vented their anger.

But Gao Shen wasn't paying attention to them.

He hadn't expected Napoli to score so quickly off a counterattack like this.

And now, everything had changed.

"We need to adjust our approach!"

Returning to the coaching area, he turned to Zidane and the others, his excitement still evident.

"Football has no fixed form, just like battle. The key is adaptation."

He grinned, his eyes full of confidence.

"That's my coaching philosophy."

Then, as if speaking to an unseen observer, he added quietly.

"Did you see that, Sir?"

***

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