The full match ended with AC Milan defeating Manchester United 4-3.
Kaká immediately found Suker and embraced him in celebration.
"Wow, you're amazing!"
"You're so unlucky!" Suker pushed Kaká away with a disdainful look. "You didn't help at all, even Seedorf was more useful than you!"
Kaká protested, "I made breakthroughs! I created space for you! I made chances!"
Suker was boiling with frustration.
Yes! Kaká did all those things.
But that wasn't the Kaká Suker wanted.
He wanted the Godslayer Kaká.
But this guy never 'goes big.'
Sometimes playing brilliantly, sometimes like a bear.
From 'Saint Kaká's' rainy night slaying of the Red Devils, it turned into Suker himself doing the rain-night slaying.
If Kaká had even 70% of his Godslayer form, Suker wouldn't be this exhausted!
He'd been supporting him all season!
And this guy still didn't step up.
Is the Godslayer Kaká gone forever?
When will he stabilize and explode?
Suker grew more and more angry.
"No more Paella!" Kaká said, feeling wronged.
He had no idea what kind of game Suker wanted from him, or what performance.
He thought he was already doing very well.
Seeing Kaká's confused look, Suker snapped, "You don't even know your own potential!"
Suker turned and walked toward the front of the stands, greeting the fans.
This rainy night was crazy and inspiring.
Though Kaká hadn't exploded, Suker fought with everything and won the game.
Though not perfect, the result was good.
Only one game left.
Milan fans enthusiastically welcomed Suker, showering him with thunderous applause and cheers.
The crowd chanting "Suker" was endless.
In these two matches, Suker basically led the team single-handedly to victory.
Of course, with an unstable Kaká who faltered at key moments.
So Milan fans cheered even louder for Suker.
After interacting with the fans for a while, Suker headed back onto the pitch.
Manchester United's players sat on the ground, looking dejected.
Some were quietly sobbing.
Modrić was one of them.
Suker saw Modrić crouched on the ground, wiping tears.
Awkwardly, Suker scratched his nose.
Oh no! I made Modrić cry!
Modrić felt deep frustration.
They were just one step from the Champions League final, but couldn't get there.
They fell on the road to Athens.
They were so close, so close to the dream stage.
But in the end, they failed.
He wasn't afraid of failure, but that heartbreak of falling after nearly touching victory made him feel down.
As Modrić quietly wept, a voice came beside him.
"Come on! Look up! Smile for the camera on three — one, two, three!"
Click!
Flashbulbs popped, Modrić looked baffled at Suker fiddling with his phone.
Suker was excited: "Send the email! Send it! I made Luka cry, hahaha!"
Modrić was furious.
"Are you even human? Stop! Give me the phone!"
He didn't care about crying; if Suker sent that photo, he'd be a lifelong joke.
That photo could never exist!
Never!
In the end, Modrić jumped on Suker, wrestled the phone away, and deleted the photo.
"Just kidding!"
"I'm kidding, I already took it!"
"Look, you cried! I just wanted to cheer you up!"
"I f***ing thank you!"
"You're welcome!"
Slap!
Modrić smacked Suker on the back of the head.
"You jerk! Next time I really will get you!" he growled through gritted teeth.
"Why cry? It's just the Champions League. Wait a couple years, I'll take you to win the Euros and World Cup!"
"When?"
"I said wait a bit!"
Slap!
"Jerk!"
"Try me again, I'll fight back."
"Fight back? Bring it!"
"Help me up first!"
At San Siro's sidelines, Suker and Modrić sat together.
"I won't let you have it next time. We'll get revenge in the Champions League final!"
Modrić turned and glared.
Suker cleared his throat, "Okay okay, I apologize, alright?"
"You a**hole!"
"Luka, you shouldn't keep cursing so much!" Suker scolded seriously.
Modrić: "Sir Alex taught me. How about that?"
Suker: "Ah~ shouldn't have let you go to United."
"I like it," Modrić shrugged. "Next season, I'm coming for you guys."
"We'll see if you can catch us!" Suker shrugged.
Next season's Manchester United—Milan should avoid if possible.
This season was already fierce.
Next season, United will be even more aggressive chasing the Champions League.
As for Milan, Suker shook his head.
This season, just work hard.
Modrić took a deep breath, pushed himself up: "The game's over. We're eliminated, but congrats to you."
He extended his hand.
"Good luck in the final! Hope you get your revenge!"
Suker smiled: "Just wait and see!"
Modrić left, Ronaldo was waiting in the player tunnel.
Ronaldo draped an arm around Modrić's shoulder as they left, seeming very close.
Suker squinted slightly.
"Suker, want a banana?"
Suker turned angrily: "Eat eat eat! Just eat! Go back and get your form right."
Kaká shrugged: "No seafood rice, no form!"
Suker glared and rolled up his sleeves.
"Come here! I promise I won't beat you to death! Just a little!"
AC Milan defeated Manchester United and once again advanced to the Champions League final.
They also became the first team in Champions League history to reach the final three years in a row.
At this moment, Milan had ignited all of Europe.
At the post-match press conference, Ancelotti was full of pride:
"At the start of the season, many said Milan no longer had the quality to be champions. I wonder what they think now."
"I want to say, Milan is still Milan. From the round of 16, we beat Real Madrid, Bayern Munich, and Manchester United, and finally made it to the final stage. No one can question our legitimacy."
"As for the final, as many media have guessed, we are very focused."
"Yes, ever since returning from Istanbul, we've thought about this moment constantly. This time, we won't repeat past mistakes."
Ancelotti said solemnly: "We will successfully get our revenge!"
In the Milan locker room, everyone cheered loudly.
Suddenly, a voice rang out sharply.
"Hey! Aren't we going to pop some champagne to celebrate?"
Just one sentence, and the whole locker room instantly fell silent.
Suker opened his eyes wide and looked over curiously.
Who dared say that!?
Ricardo Oliveira blinked innocently. When he saw Gattuso, Inzaghi, Nesta's dark stares, and even Cafu and Kaká's killer looks, he quickly covered his mouth.
"I—I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!"
Oliveira was terrified.
He felt Gattuso could rip his mouth apart.
The entire locker room went quiet.
At that moment, Gattuso suddenly asked, "Is there champagne?"
Nesta and Inzaghi looked at Gattuso in shock.
Gattuso said, "We can't be held back by these things anymore. If we're still afraid of champagne, how are we supposed to play the next match? Champagne is dead—but Liverpool is coming!"
Everyone fell silent.
"Go on!"
Gattuso scrambled and took a bottle of champagne.
He looked at Suker across the room.
"How do you still have champagne?"
Suker shrugged, "Celebrating with champagne isn't weird, right? The game's over, what's there to fear?"
Suker puckered his lips, "Open it! Or should I?"
Gattuso grunted and shook the champagne bottle fiercely, then popped the cork.
With a 'pop,' champagne sprayed like rain.
Gattuso kept shaking the bottle, cursing loudly:
"F*** Liverpool!"
"Take that, Liverpool!"
Soon, every Milan player's face twisted fiercely.
Two years of repression and rage erupted.
They roared in unison:
"F*** Liverpool!"
Gattuso swung the champagne wildly, and the team shouted their cathartic screams:
"F*** Istanbul!"