Diarra was subbed off, and Mourinho had been watching him coldly the whole time. This made Diarra unable to even lift his head. He walked straight to the bench, grabbed a towel, and covered his head with it.
Getting subbed off after just eight minutes? Embarrassing beyond belief!
But he didn't argue with the substitution—after all, he had made the same mistake twice in a row.
Mourinho turned to glance at Diarra and suddenly said, "Have I not been strict enough with them?"
Assistant coach Faria shook his head. "Real Madrid isn't like the teams we coached before. These stars have a strong desire to shine. We've been emphasizing passing, playing as a team—yes, it's more cohesive, but it's also stifled their individual flair. They're feeling repressed and want to show off in the Champions League. It's understandable."
"Understandable?" Mourinho sneered and nodded. "Sure, it's understandable—but that doesn't mean mistakes are acceptable."
"He can dribble, and if he beats his man, I won't criticize him. I'd even encourage it. But he didn't beat him—and..." Mourinho held up two fingers. "Twice!"
"Let him cool off on the bench for a while. It's a good opportunity to give Di María more playing time."
In truth, Mourinho also saw this as a chance to test the waters with the Spanish domestic faction.
Diarra was close to that group—despite being French, he had a good relationship with players like Casillas. He was practically an honorary member of the Spanish core.
Since he couldn't touch the core Spanish players just yet, he'd use Diarra to send a message.
And conveniently, Diarra had just made a mistake—perfect excuse.
Mourinho turned his attention back to the pitch.
Diarra could forget about starting for the next eight to ten matches.
This was the third fire Mourinho set since taking charge—and it was finally lit.
On the field, AC Milan had taken the lead. Pato had made two successful tackles, and he was visibly thrilled.
Although he hadn't scored, he did get an assist.
And in terms of contribution to the goal, he did more than Ibrahimović.
That's what a real "core" player should look like!
As Pato headed back to his half, he brushed shoulders with Suker.
Pato blinked rapidly at him.
Suker pretended not to see—this guy gets a little cocky every time he does something decent.
"Stay sharp!"
Suker clapped and raised his index finger. "Let's get that goal back!"
Conceding early had dealt a blow to morale, but it was still manageable.
Plus, Diarra had been subbed off, and Mourinho's thunderous response had shaken those arrogant "stars" into place.
Suker returned to the center circle, grumbling to himself:
Of all times to mess up, you had to pick now?!
It seemed that after a string of wins and good form, Diarra had started getting carried away.
His dribbling was so slow, Suker couldn't bear to watch.
Trying to force a dribble like that? He deserved to be subbed off.
Now trailing by a goal, they needed to regroup.
"A perfect start, but we can't afford to relax. There's still a long way to go. We need to slow the tempo," said commentator Aldo Serena.
Just as he finished speaking, Real Madrid kicked off—and Pato shot forward like a bullet.
Those two early tackles had filled him with confidence.
He began to charge around Real Madrid's half like a mad dog, pressing relentlessly.
Real Madrid, on the other hand, had become more cautious after Diarra's errors—keeping the ball moving and avoiding risky plays as they settled in.
Suker saw this from the front line and nodded slightly.
He also noticed Pato's crazed energy and couldn't help but grin:
"This little mutt!"
Pato sprinted forward, shouting at his teammates to press.
That forced Milan's midfield to push up—or else the formation would fall apart.
Football is a team sport.The whole influences the individual.The individual also influences the whole.
With Pato pressing like a lunatic, the others had no choice but to follow.
Pirlo tried to slow things down.
"Pato! Stop!"
His shouting was useless.
Once Pato got going, very few people could rein him in.
He kept pushing forward, sure he could force another turnover.
Then came a lion's roar from the back:
"STOP RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!"
Gattuso exploded with a furious bellow.
Instantly, Pato froze.
Seeing this, Xabi Alonso stepped up and asked Di María for the ball.
Di María passed it laterally.
Alonso didn't trap it. He turned and used the inside of his foot to send it to Benzema ahead.
Benzema met the ball and flicked it to the wing.
Kaká picked it up on the flank and sprinted forward.
"Kaká! Real Madrid on the counter! What a quick counterattack!"
Kaká surged toward the box.
Benzema burst forward with Nesta trailing, charging into the penalty area.
Kaká passed the ball sideways.
"Kaká passes—Suker!!!"
Italian commentator Aldo Serena screamed, a jolt running through his scalp.
Suker!
Why was no one marking him?!
Gattuso lunged at Suker, aiming to slide-tackle just as he received the ball.
But Suker flicked the ball up, hopped over Gattuso, and landed gently—absorbing the ball with his thigh.
As the ball dropped, Suker twisted his hips and fired.
Bang!
Benzema instinctively spread his legs.
The ball shot through his legs, rocketing toward goal.
Because Benzema had blocked the view, the Milan keeper couldn't react in time—he didn't even dive.
Whoosh!
The ball hit the net.
Suker stood still, glanced at the goal, and slowly raised both arms.
"Goal scored! Suker again! It's Suker!"
Aldo Serena shook his head. "16th minute. Just eight minutes after our goal, Real Madrid equalizes!"
"Milan pushed too hard, giving Real Madrid a perfect counter opportunity—and their counters are lightning fast. We just couldn't get back in time."
"No one closed down Suker—or rather, no one could keep up with him. Gattuso tried his best but just couldn't stop him."
Gattuso had given everything, but his declining condition and fitness meant he simply couldn't match Suker's pace.
Once Suker pulled away, breaking past Gattuso was easy.
It's all down to the physical gap.Suker was in his prime.Gattuso was on the decline.
The San Siro fell silent. Milan fans had bitter expressions.
Again?!It happened last season—and now again this season.
Since Kaká joined Real Madrid, the team had clearly made great strides in both squad and tactics.
Pato clenched his lips.
This match meant a lot to him.
He wanted to prove himself to everyone—and to show Suker how much he'd grown.
In Pato's eyes, Suker had been instrumental in shaping his career.
A role model.Though he never said it aloud, Pato deeply respected and admired Suker.
So, he wanted to put on a great performance in this match.
The start was great—Milan scored first.
But Suker?He swatted him down like a fly.
Pato was still trying hard to earn Suker's approval—even if not praise, at least recognition.
But... to Suker, it all looked ridiculous.
"This little mutt needs to be taught a lesson—baring his teeth at me?"
Suker glanced at Pato.
Let's keep going.
Real Madrid's equalizer made Milan fans uneasy.
They'd seen how dangerous Madrid's counterattack was—the speed and accuracy of their passing was scary.
If Real Madrid launched another counter, the lead might grow.
And sure enough, that fear soon came true.
After equalizing, Real Madrid steadied their backline and kept up wave after wave of attack.
With their morale high, they were eager to score again.
Kaká, Alonso, and Di María became key pass points in midfield.
Sometimes even Suker dropped deep to help.
They kept the ball moving smoothly upfield.
Milan was forced to retreat into defense.
Suker received the ball in midfield and looked around—not rushing a pass, but dribbling forward a few steps.
Then—whoosh!
He narrowly avoided a back-stab tackle from Pato.
Pato twisted and lunged again.
Suker dropped a shoulder—Pato shifted his weight that way.
Suker was speechless.
This guy buys fakes so easily?
Suker centered himself and passed horizontally to Kaká.
Pato pounced again—like a piece of sticky gum.
"Pato's energetic pressing continues, but Real Madrid's passing is too precise."
Aldo Serena shook his head.
Not just the passing—the ball control too.
Suker and Kaká were technically elite.
Di María and Alonso could also evade pressure well.
Pato was chasing shadows—and he was suffering.
Suker studied Milan's shape.
Pato, Gattuso, and Pirlo were still giving their all.
They were the core of the team from back in the day.
But newcomers like Ibrahimović stayed up top, not pressing.
Which was fine—he was the striker, after all.
But on the left, Ronaldinho stood around with a belly, just watching.
Suker shook his head.
This wasn't the Milan he once knew.
Bang!As the ball reached him, Suker was suddenly tackled hard.
He and Gattuso both crashed to the ground.
Suker was dazed.
Was Gattuso trying to hurt him?
But then he saw Gattuso panting, drenched in sweat.
He understood—Gattuso wasn't trying to foul him. He just couldn't keep up anymore.
His body had failed him.
That's a serious issue for a pro.
It meant his fitness was gone.
The Gattuso who once ran nonstop for 90 minutes could no longer run.
Tweet!The ref came over and looked at Gattuso, ready to book him.
Suker waved it off. "He didn't do it on purpose."
If it were someone else, he'd insist on a yellow.But it was Gattuso—let the man keep some dignity.
With Suker speaking up, the ref let it go with a warning.
Gattuso stayed silent throughout.
Suker placed the ball for the free kick.
"You taking it?" Alonso asked.
Suker nodded. "Yeah."
He and Alonso alternated on set pieces—but Suker had the final say.
This one was about three meters outside the top of the box, slightly right of center—well within his range.
"Suker to take the free kick for Real Madrid..."
Aldo Serena provided commentary, but there wasn't much data on Suker's set pieces.
His most famous one was that clutch World Cup goal.
Under the gaze of the entire stadium, Suker wiped his sweat and took a deep breath.
Chest rising and falling, he calmed his breath, then looked at the goal.
Tweet!
"Suker starts his run..."
He sprinted up and struck with his left.
His body leaned forward to keep the ball down.
The ball flew through the air like a rainbow—curling elegantly toward the far top corner.
Milan's keeper reacted quickly and dove.
But the shot was fast—and the curve unpredictable.
The ball brushed his glove and flew into the net.
Whoosh!
GOAL!
39th minute—Real Madrid scored again.
Suker had a brace.
AC Milan 1:2 Real Madrid!
"GOAL!!! SUKER!!!!!"
"Facing his old club, Suker shows no mercy. A stunning free kick rips Milan apart!"
"Two goals in the first Champions League match of the season—Suker remains a terrifying striker! Who can stop him?"
"Suker again refuses to celebrate. The goal is for Madrid—but for the stadium he once defended, he chooses not to celebrate."
The San Siro was filled with groans.
The Milan fans could only shake their heads and force a bitter smile.
There was no stopping Suker!
These two goals proved it.
On the sidelines, Mourinho applauded lightly—very pleased with Suker's performance.
This is the elite striker he's always wanted.
Deadly finishing!
Meanwhile, Milan's coach Allegri let out a long sigh.
He was so jealous watching Suker.
When he came to Milan, part of the draw was the chance to coach Suker.
He was thrilled, thinking he'd have the best player in the world.
Yes—the best.
In Allegri's eyes, Suker was the one.
But by the time he arrived—Suker had already left!
He didn't even get one season with him.
If only he had come a year earlier...
That was Allegri's biggest regret.
Seeing Suker now—it only made the pain worse.
Just one more year!Why couldn't I have had him for just one year?
The first half ended.
Real Madrid led AC Milan 2:1.
In the second half, Milan's condition worsened.
The aging squad started to break down—lack of stamina led to multiple mistakes.
That opened the door for Kaká to assist Benzema for another goal, extending the lead to 3:1.
At the 65th minute, Mourinho subbed off Suker alone.
As he left the pitch, the entire San Siro applauded.
Amid the applause, Suker walked off.
"Thanks, boss," he said to Mourinho.
Clearly, Mourinho subbed him off alone so he could enjoy the Milan fans' applause.
At the 75th minute, Mourinho did the same with Kaká.
Another thunderous ovation.
With both Suker and Kaká off, Madrid shifted to defense.
Even so, Milan's attack lacked bite—barely threatening Madrid's backline.
Pato charged hard!
But his teammates couldn't keep up—leading to serious disconnects.
He'd break forward only to be surrounded and dispossessed.
His style was similar to Kaká's old one.
But both needed wide-open spaces to run.
Madrid's defense choked all space—leaving Pato nowhere to go.
Finally, after 90 minutes, the match ended.
"That's the end of the first round of the 2010/2011 Champions League group stage. AC Milan fall 1:3 at home to Real Madrid."
"Real Madrid displayed incredible team chemistry—even though it's still early in the season. Once they fully gel, they'll be terrifying in the second half."
"Milan, on the other hand, need to regroup—and hope to turn things around in the sixth group match away from home."
That was the hope—but Aldo Serena didn't sound confident.
Both Milan clubs were struggling.
Inter was being wrecked by Benítez.
And AC Milan was on a steady decline.
The once-glorious Milan Dynasty had now fallen into a long, dark night...
On the pitch, Milan's players were devastated.
Suker and Kaká went around to comfort them—former teammates, after all.
Pato looked at Suker with wide eyes.
Suker looked back and walked over.
Pato thought he was coming to console him.
But Suker leaned in and whispered:
"Don't get cocky. Your grandpa will always be your grandpa."
Pato's face fell instantly!