Higuaín ran excitedly toward the stands, celebrating wildly with the Real Madrid fans.
This season, his form had been outstanding.
Although not as explosive as Suker's, he had clearly improved.
He believed he could perform even better in the future.
Higuaín had never shied away from ambition—he didn't come to Real Madrid to be someone's sidekick. He wanted to be the best.
And for that, he trained hard.
Suker also looked toward Higuaín, the two exchanging a simple high-five as a celebration.
Their relationship wasn't particularly close—Higuaín tended to avoid Suker.
Suker knew well: Higuaín was ambitious.
Of course, ambition was everywhere—who at Real Madrid wasn't ambitious?
But compared to ambition, Higuaín's performance was somewhat lacking.
In regular matches, Higuaín usually did well.
He was a sustainable player.
But when given sufficient tactical resources and status—when the team tried to play through him—his flaws became painfully obvious.
He was not someone who could be a team's core.
Later in his career, Higuaín didn't even dare return to Argentina. The fans there nicknamed him "The Donkey."
They even went so far as to insult his daughter, saying, "Your father is a donkey."
Words from children hurt the most, especially when your own child is being bullied.
In many ways, Higuaín's late-career years were tragic.
Wanting to compete and achieve more is only natural.
But the world doesn't always let you choose—some things are simply fated.
Higuaín wasn't suited to be the core of a team.Even if he wanted it badly, he'd only run into disastrous outcomes.
The worst part was—Higuaín couldn't see that for himself.
He insisted on chasing that dream.
Take Di María, the unofficial vice-king of Argentina—he too was ambitious, but he understood the value of being a supporting player.
Di María was a top-tier auxiliary player.
He could score, dribble, fit into systems, and deliver clutch plays.
Clearly, Di María had a better grasp of who he was.
Higuaín was different.
And this difference is what led to his downfall.
Back in the match, after Real Madrid's goal, Osasuna grew more anxious.
Their underdog comeback journey had only just begun—would Real Madrid snuff it out so soon?
"Hold the defense! Watch Suker!"Osasuna's coach shouted loudly.
Their prior tactics were still usable—perhaps instead of limiting Suker directly, cutting off his passing lanes would be more effective.
That's what they'd done against Messi once.
They had thrown everything into that game—and managed a draw.
But now, things were different.
Suker wasn't Messi.
They were two completely different types of players.
For instance—would Messi try to receive the ball while carrying Juanfran on his back?
Juanfran would launch Messi like a paper airplane.
But Suker could do that!
And he wouldn't lose the physical battle either.
When Suker moved centrally, Raul would automatically shift wide.
Suker drew the defense to the middle while Higuaín and Raul lay in wait on either wing.
Diarra stood just in front of Suker—Suker only needed to lay the ball back, and Diarra could thread a pass forward to Higuaín or Raul.
Bang!Suker laid the ball off perfectly, and Diarra immediately sent a piercing pass through.
Raul chased it with all his might. As he entered the penalty area, he chipped a cross.
Higuaín surged forward, using his chest to guide the ball into the net.
31st minute, Real Madrid lead Osasuna 2–0 away from home.
"The second goal—my god! From Argentina Higuaín, who's in tremendous form!"
"Real Madrid have scored two goals in the first half already!"
"And look at Suker's impact this match—though he hasn't scored, he's consistently drawing defenders and distributing the ball. That's what tactical value looks like. Who says Suker is just a pure striker? What kind of pure striker has this level of vision and tactical awareness?"
"Just watch Suker—he's the key link in Real Madrid's dismantling of Osasuna's defense."
"Osasuna focused all their defense on Suker, and Suker used that to free up his two attacking partners!"
"With such a performance, how can anyone say Suker is just a goal-scorer?"
"'Suker only scores goals'—that's an insult to him!"
Gonzalez shouted passionately.
Meanwhile, in bars across Madrid, Real fans erupted in deafening cheers.
They were thrilled with the two goals.
Osasuna's coach rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on.
He had poured defensive resources into stopping Suker, hoping to silence him.
Suker did stop driving forward aggressively—he wasn't stubborn.
But now, he kept drifting to the middle, willingly acting as the central pivot.
And with Suker distributing the ball, both wings were activated.
Worse yet, with so much defense pulled centrally, Raul and Higuaín were left unchecked.
The whole thing was becoming unsolvable.
Osasuna's squad was simply too thin.
They could only rely on numbers to limit Suker.
But they couldn't even fully contain him, and now Real's wings had taken flight.
Sure, he could redistribute his defense to pressure the flanks…
But then what would Suker do?
"How the hell are we supposed to play against this?!"
With Suker unchecked, Osasuna tried shifting to an offensive focus to relieve some pressure.
But a new problem arose.
Suker sat in the central zone, forcing Osasuna's midfielders to hold back.
Their forwards charged ahead, only to realize their teammates were miles away—no one to pass back to.
The midfield and attack became disconnected, and Real immediately countered.
Osasuna was smothered.
On the bench, Di María watched the game with admiration on his face.
This match displayed Suker's impact to the fullest.
He was like a thorn stuck in Osasuna's spine—immovable.
They couldn't attack, and their defense couldn't hold.
His tactical value was off the charts—and he also unlocked both wings.
Even when Osasuna tried pushing Suker to the wings, he'd pivot back to the middle and apply pressure again.
It was surreal.
It didn't feel like Osasuna was defending Suker…
It felt like Suker had kidnapped their defenders!
Whenever they tried to move away from him, Suker would tug the rope.
In the second half, when Juanfran began drifting wide, Suker instantly turned and sprinted.
Juanfran panicked, tripping and crawling to get back—utterly humiliated.
But Suker didn't even go for the ball. He just stood there.
Juanfran glared at him, furious.
"What are you looking at!"
"Keep watching me! Don't look at anyone else!"
Juanfran was mentally exhausted.
How the hell was he supposed to play like this?
Following Suker didn't work—not following was worse.
Just as his thoughts became a tangled mess, Alonso launched a long pass—a perfect arc toward Osasuna's backline.
Suker saw Juanfran in a daze and took off like a rocket.
As the ball dropped, Suker used the outside of his right foot to stop it to his side and then slammed into Flano.
Though Flano had the bigger frame, physical clashes weren't just about size—they were about timing.
Suker struck just as Flano shifted his weight to his plant foot. The impact sent Flano skidding chest-first across the turf.
The ref didn't blow his whistle—the challenge was clean and legal.
Suker chased the ball down and fired a twisting shot.
The ball arced upward, slamming into the top corner above the keeper's head.
"GOAL!!!!!!"
"Suker scores in the 61st minute—Real Madrid lead 3–0 away at Osasuna!"
"Real are looking fantastic in the second half of the season. Fans may already start celebrating!"
Real fans were indeed celebrating.
So far, they hadn't lost a single match.
Sure, they had moments of clumsiness—understandable during a transition period—but it was clear this squad had serious potential.
All they needed was a solid tactical system.
Suker didn't think so.
Going undefeated was nice—
But it also meant their real problems hadn't been exposed.
Maybe their opponents weren't strong enough—or maybe Real just got lucky.
Real Madrid had no real system—this was unacceptable.
Pellegrini hadn't solved this issue yet.
And such disjointed dominance felt like something glued together—functional, but unnatural.
Maybe outsiders didn't notice—but the players sure did.
Suker didn't understand why Pellegrini hadn't adjusted yet.
Or… had he simply not realized?
Impossible—Pellegrini definitely knew.
But he just didn't know how to fix it.
Technically, his "cannonball" tactics were a system.
Simple. Direct. A bit like England's old-school long-ball play.
But such simplicity was a double-edged sword—it could be exploited.
Right now, Suker's excellence kept the cannon strategy effective.
Pellegrini was working on a transition plan—to introduce a more cohesive system before next season.
65th minute: Suker is subbed off.
Pellegrini called, "Ángel, you're up!"
Di María stood up excitedly.
This was his first appearance for Real Madrid—an away debut, but still, he was thrilled to be playing.
And with the match in hand, there wasn't much pressure.
"Good luck!"
Suker gave him a strong high-five before returning to the bench to watch the game.
He had one goal and one assist—not bad at all.
Even though Higuaín scored twice, it couldn't steal the spotlight from Suker.
The match was essentially decided.
Suker grabbed a banana from the assistant coach and began munching as he watched Di María closely.
Di María looked energetic—his runs were aggressive.
But he wasn't Suker—he didn't have that same tactical importance, so he stayed wide.
Still, Di María used his dribbling and skill to keep pressure on the defense.
"Number 22, Di María—signed from Benfica during the winter window, a young Argentine talent who impressed at Benfica and caught Real Madrid's attention. We're eager to see what he can do—oh~~~"
Before the commentator could finish, Di María controlled a long pass from Alonso.
A neat first touch, followed by rapid right-foot taps—his footwork dazzled Azpilicueta.
"Midair Elastico!"
Taking advantage of Azpilicueta's shifted balance, Di María exploded toward the byline.
Near the goal box, he glanced up and suddenly twisted—left foot planted, right foot swung behind—a "rabona cross".
Suker grinned.
"Showoff!"
The pass didn't reach the intended target and was headed clear by a defender.
Even so, the Madrid fans in the stands went wild with applause.
The game was already in the bag—they now just wanted to see more flashy skills.
Di María's midair elastico and rabona cross were visual treats.
Though it didn't result in a goal, it was still thrilling.
On the bench, Real's players were also impressed.
Di María had great ball sense and technique.
He'd shown that in training many times.
But training was one thing—matches were another.
In training, even defenders could pull off tricks.
But doing it in a real game? That's impressive.
Like Ronaldinho—why was he so beloved?
Because his dribbling was both effective and entertaining—he played football like he was dancing.
Suker, Messi, and Ronaldo all focused on effective dribbling.
Suker would showboat sometimes, but never with Ronaldinho's flair.
That's why Suker really wanted to draw Ronaldinho's card—
Because damn, that guy was cool!
Di María's show wasn't over yet. He kept trying to dribble past defenders on the wing.
The fans loved it—they kept cheering him on.
But the risks were high.
Azpilicueta's eyes were bloodshot.
Bang!Di María got swept hard by a slide tackle.
Dazed, he looked up at Azpilicueta's furious face and roar—his mind went blank.
Suker shook his head on the bench.
In the future, Di María would play much simpler.
As tactics evolved and games got faster and rougher—
Even if opponents didn't try to destroy you outright, constant tackles would wear down your career.
That's why classic No.10s were nearly extinct.
They weren't bad to watch—they were beautiful.
But they were easy targets, and didn't fit the modern fast-paced transitions.
Only someone like Ancelotti, stubborn and romantic, still insisted on using a "No.10" in his lineups.
And even then, those No.10s were more like factory-made role-players, stripped of their classical elegance.
Time passed, and by the 80th minute, Real started locking down defensively.
Osasuna tried to score, but having conceded too much, it was hopeless.
Final Score: Real Madrid 3 – 1 Osasuna (Away Win)
Real Madrid opened the second half of the season with a win!
Full-time whistle.
Higuaín raised his arms in celebration, full of confidence.
He had scored twice—surely the best player today.
He walked over to the away stands, hoping for applause.
The fans responded quickly with warm applause.
A smile lit up Higuaín's face.
But then, he heard some noise—
Disorderly at first, but then…
Clear. Loud. Unified.
Over a thousand Real Madrid fans chanting one name:
"Suker!!!!!!!!!!""Suker!!!!!!!!!!""Suker!!!!!!!!!!"
Suker clapped as he walked toward the fans, acknowledging their love.
The cheering and applause reached a fever pitch—even louder than what Higuaín had received.
Higuaín's face darkened.
He had scored the two goals.
He had played the best.
So why was all the praise for Suker?
Higuaín was annoyed.
It felt like everything revolved around Suker.
The fans only had eyes for him.
No matter how hard Higuaín tried—no matter how well he performed—they only saw Suker.
It felt terrible.
He had worked so hard. He just wanted recognition.
But now, it felt like he was some pathetic fanboy, reaching out desperately.
And no one cared.
They only had eyes for Suker.
"This sucks."
He had just scored a brace and should've been celebrating…
But seeing this scene made Higuaín feel nothing but frustration.