"All Real Madrid Stars Send Blessings to Little Andrés!""Spain's Luckiest Child!""A Lucky Moment for Real Madrid Fans!""A Warm-hearted Giant Club!"
The Champions League match had ended, but rather than the game itself, Little Andrés and the Real Madrid players became the media's focal point.
This heartwarming gesture made fans immensely proud.
Look!Our stars aren't just great at football—they're full of compassion too!What began as Spanish media coverage quickly spread throughout Europe and even globally.
In just one day, "Real Madrid Stars" and "Little Andrés" became hot topics for media around the world.
The overwhelming wave of attention left Real Madrid stunned.
At first, the club didn't think much of it, treating it as part of routine PR with nothing particularly special.
But as the event continued to gain momentum, it began generating an enormous traffic surge, feeding directly back into Real Madrid.
This prompted the club to urgently readjust and make follow-up plans centered around this incident.
Even Florentino Pérez, as Real Madrid's representative, reappeared in Little Andrés' hospital room to officially award him the title of "Honorary Fan," further amplifying the event's emotional impact and drawing out its viral wave.
Usually, when Florentino appeared in public, his smile was more of a formality.
But this time, it was obvious—he couldn't stop grinning.
"Hahahahahahahaha~~~"
Laughter echoed through Florentino's estate.
Florentino, Suker, and Casillas sat on chairs in the courtyard, with the former beaming with joy.
"You guys really did a fantastic job!" Florentino was elated, happier than if they had just won a championship.
And it made sense!
Real Madrid didn't lack trophies—they lacked traffic.
Previously, Real Madrid's PR tactics were mostly about flaunting salaries, luxury cars, and mansions. While fans might be impressed once or twice, after a while, it became monotonous.
They'd go, "Wow!"—and forget it the next minute.
It's fair to say that in the past couple of years, Real Madrid hadn't had any truly successful PR campaigns—until now. This time, they struck gold by accident.
And how could Florentino not be happy?
"The times are changing!" he said, sipping red wine and shaking his head. "People don't care about luxury anymore—they want emotional stories. Maybe we should invest more in that direction."
No one responded.
Florentino looked up—Casillas was deep in thought, and Suker was fixated on his grapevine.
'Hands off my grapes!'
Cough!
Florentino cleared his throat, prompting both men to look up. They almost simultaneously responded:
"Great work!"
"Amazing!"
Florentino was a little annoyed. These two clearly hadn't heard a word he said.
But he didn't mind.
"I heard Diarra is now on the bench?"
Florentino asked suddenly.
Suker and Casillas exchanged glances.
"Yes. Diarra made some mistakes during the match, and Di María performed well. It's just normal competition," Casillas replied.
Florentino nodded slightly.
"I understand. I won't interfere with the locker room, but I also don't want any internal conflict."
From Florentino's perspective—
After spending so much money over the past few seasons, it was time to see results.
"Suker!"
Florentino called out softly.
Suker looked up.
"The Ballon d'Or is in January. Nervous?" Florentino asked with a smirk.
Suker: "Not really. Whether I win or not doesn't matter. I'm just afraid of embarrassing Real Madrid as a top club."
That one sentence left Florentino speechless.
The subtext: Whether I win is one thing—but Real Madrid constantly advertises itself as the ultimate club. If its top star doesn't even win the Ballon d'Or, it's not just my loss—it's a blow to Real Madrid's reputation. It's your face, Florentino, that's on the line.
"You little rascal…" Florentino shook his head and gently set down his glass. "I've been pulling strings in the media to gather votes for you, but I can't interfere with the national team side."
Suker nodded. "That's enough."
To be honest, he truly didn't believe he would lose.
By any standard, Suker deserved this award.
First: His performance was top-tier—not a total domination, but definitely a clear advantage.
Second: FIFA had just made a massive blunder at the World Cup involving Croatia. If they snub Suker here, there'll be backlash.
Third: FIFA was clearly starting a new "idol-making" campaign—and this would be a key moment for Suker to rise.
Every era has its own icons.
Pelé!Maradona!Cruyff!Ronaldo!Zidane!
These stars weren't just gifted—they all benefited from FIFA's strategic support.
To create buzz and raise football's popularity, promotion was inevitable.
And when FIFA gets involved, while it doesn't happen often, every generation has seen it.
Pelé and Maradona dominated their era's spotlight.
In the Ronaldo-Zidane era, there was more competition, so things were more complex.
But now, in this new era—
FIFA seems to be setting the stage for one "superstar" and several challengers.
Of course, nothing is certain. The future still holds many adjustments.
Regardless, based on Suker's current achievements and performances, he clearly outshines the rest of his generation.
Cristiano Ronaldo, Messi, Fàbregas, Xavi, Iniesta, Modrić, Kaká, Sneijder—all top contenders, but still a step behind.
Including the 2010 Ballon d'Or, Suker had three Ballon d'Ors and one FIFA World Player of the Year.
That alone crushed the competition.
After leaving Florentino's estate—
Before they left, Florentino even arranged for Casillas to visit an ALS patient for more public goodwill.
Even though these kinds of stories only have strong PR value the first time, striking while the iron is hot could help Real Madrid move away from its image of flaunting wealth.
Exactly!
Florentino had decided—Real Madrid was going to go for a warm-hearted brand now.
Even though "warm-hearted" doesn't exactly fit Real Madrid's image…
But hey, this is marketing. If it gains fans and money—it's worth it!
Back at the training base, Mourinho watched as they returned to the pitch.
He didn't understand why the club president had suddenly called them away, but out of respect, he didn't interfere.
Suker and Casillas also respected him. As soon as the meeting ended, they returned to training.
Though, by then, the session was mostly over.
After entering November, Real Madrid's schedule suddenly became more intense.
First, a league match against Atlético Madrid—the city rival, always suppressed by Real but never docile.
Then came another Champions League clash against AC Milan—this time at home.
But after AC Milan came the real showdown—
A trip to the Camp Nou to face Barcelona!
This was the big one.
Barcelona had lost their last four matches against Real Madrid, which left the club—and the fans—extremely frustrated.
Add Mourinho's usual provocations, antagonism, mind games, and media manipulation, and the El Clásico atmosphere was already explosive long before kickoff.
Barcelona fans were furious—vowing to rip Real Madrid apart.
Even the club's official statement said this match had to be won—it was a matter of professional dignity.
"Things are getting pretty intense with the fans," Casillas said in the locker room.
Ramos nodded. "Feels like the hype's gone a bit too far."
While derbies are always fiery, they shouldn't be filled with hatred and rage.
But lately, the rivalry had escalated, even pulling in regional and political issues—tainting the spirit of the match.
Suker silently listened.
Since 2011, El Clásico had gained a new nickname—Kung Fu Football.
Ramos choking Puyol, Piqué flashing five fingers to taunt Madrid, Pepe elbowing Messi…
If the matches were fiery before, they were now outright brawls.
Fueled by deep-seated tensions and Mourinho's constant narrative of hatred and enemies, Real Madrid players' mentalities had shifted.
Still, it must be said—this made El Clásico the most marketable and watched rivalry in the world.
Two massive clubs clashing head-on—it was intense and brutally entertaining.
For foreign players like Suker, it wasn't a big deal.
But for Casillas, Ramos, Puyol, Xavi, and others—who were not just club rivals but also national teammates—it was much trickier.
Yes, you could say rivals on the field, friends off it…
But if you elbow someone during a match, can they really laugh it off after?
That's just dumb.
Suker stood up and said, "Let's go, time to head home."
Kaká and Srna followed, not bothered. They weren't Spanish—this wasn't their headache.
Balancing club and country—that was someone else's problem.
Back at the villa, the usual dinner routine: one person washed dishes, another walked the dog.
Suker lounged on the couch watching TV.
"Next match is Atlético, then it's the international break," said Kaká. "You heading home?"
Suker shook his head. "Nope."
Croatia was facing Malta in the Euro qualifiers—not a match that needed him.
Besic, the coach, felt the same. It was a good chance to give backups some time.
For Suker, it was a perfect mini-vacation.
"You're really not going?" Srna asked as he came in with the dog.
He wiped Luna's paws, and the pup darted up the stairs, tail wagging.
Suker patted the dog's head without looking.
"Seriously not going?" Srna repeated.
Suker nodded. "Nope. Why?"
"I'm not going either!" Srna blinked. "I thought you were, though. Coach was planning to rotate you."
"Against Malta? Don't stress."
"Just in case, you know!"
Suker turned to him. "Do you really think cautious Besic would ever take an unprepared approach or lose because he got arrogant?"
Srna paused, then immediately shook his head.
Besic was extremely cautious—not pathologically so, but definitely the type to go all-out even against weak opponents.
And this time—
"Van Stoyak!" Suker named the backup. "Besic is still learning about us. He's testing the team's lower limits to better understand the framework. Besides, Mario, Luka, Vukojević, and Rakitić are all going—so what are you worried about?"
"Mario and Luka are going too?" Srna relaxed. "Then it's all good!"
Even without Suker, with Modrić present, Croatia would be just fine.
Hearing all this, Kaká looked a little envious.
He was from mighty Brazil—shouldn't feel this way.
But watching Croatia's steady rise, listening to Suker and Srna chat—it was hard not to admire their growing talent pool.
"I'm kinda jealous… You guys have so many reliable teammates," Kaká said with a wistful smile.
"Jealous of us?" Srna widened his eyes. "Buddy, you're Brazil! You're jealous of us?"
"But our squad isn't great now," Kaká shook his head.
"Not great?" Srna was confused.
How could anyone say Brazil's squad wasn't strong?
What nonsense!
Suker cut in: "He means compared to 2002."
Kaká nodded with a nostalgic sigh. "Back then we had Ronaldo and Ronaldinho up front."
Suker: "In their prime."
"Midfield with Rivaldo and Silva…Defense had Carlos, Cafu, Lúcio…"
Kaká shook his head. "Back then, I was just a benchwarmer…"
"Shut up already!" Srna finally exploded.
He didn't want to hear about that ridiculous lineup!
The 2002 Brazil team—every player was world-class. Who could even compete?
At last, Srna understood Kaká's frustration.
He had witnessed Brazil's golden era—so of course, the current squad felt like a letdown.
Suker glanced at Kaká.
He's nostalgic now?
Wait till things get worse later.
The next day, Real Madrid players began preparing for the Madrid Derby.
Well, that's what Atlético Madrid called it—Real Madrid didn't really see it that way.
Facing Real for the first time this season, Atlético was extremely serious.
They had boosted their attack this year by triggering Diego Costa's buy-back clause—bringing back a bulldozer striker totally out of sync with Spanish tiki-taka.
Atlético needed variety up front.
Last season proved it—without a better attack, they couldn't win.
And this season, things were even harder. Real Madrid had clearly grown stronger.
Suker and Kaká, with Benzema in the middle—
That frontline was lethal—scary enough to demand extreme caution.
Atlético also planned to try something new this match.
November 7, weekend, Santiago Bernabéu Stadium.2010/11 La Liga, Round 10: Real Madrid vs Atlético Madrid.
Atlético felt immense pressure.
Real Madrid had won nine straight games—playing so well it was frightening.
They wanted to break that streak—but away from home, they had to play conservatively.
Still, they had made changes for this match.
"Costa! This match is on you!"
Atlético coach Manzano looked at Diego Costa and said seriously.
Costa wasn't your typical Spanish striker—he was a battering ram.
With a fierce look, a towering build, and powerful finishing, he was the perfect weapon.
The strategy was simple:
Get the ball to Costa in the box—and let him wreck havoc with his strength and shooting.
"Leave it to me, sir!" Costa growled.
Fired up and determined, Costa remembered facing Real last season.
They lost—but he didn't think he lost.
With a better team, he believed he'd score more.
Now at Atlético, he was ready. Feed him the ball, and he'd bring hell to Real Madrid.
He was also aiming for Suker again.
In this era, Suker was the benchmark for all rising stars.
And they couldn't wait to be the one who pulled him off the throne!