"Suker is being triple-teamed! Inter Milan has clearly crafted a highly targeted tactical plan. Every time Suker has the ball, two or more players are surrounding him. This has completely neutralized his offensive threat."
Srna, Dacourt, and Stanković surrounded Suker tightly.
And it wasn't just containment—they were using every trick in the book, preventing him from breaking through.
Suker controlled the ball at his feet, looking for a passing option, but no clear angles were available.
When he tried to dribble, Srna seemed to read his mind, immediately closing in to disrupt him.
"Damn it!"
Suker cursed internally.
He struggled, but eventually got taken down.
Srna stripped the ball away, and when Suker tried to get up and recover, Stanković blocked him off.
"Suker has been dispossessed again! That's the second time in a row! It's rare to see Suker in such a passive position, but Inter's marking is absolutely airtight."
Frustrated, Suker yanked his socks back up.
Inter's tactics were maniacally focused on him.
Every time he touched the ball, two or more players swarmed him immediately.
No one-on-one chances at all.
And it wasn't even sequential pressure he could exploit.
They swarmed all at once, leaving no space for him to dribble or pass.
They had effectively locked him down on the left wing.
It was as if they were saying:
"Even if we leave our right flank exposed, we're locking this entire side down because Suker's here."
Suker was visibly irritated.
He was the pivot of Milan's attack—if he got shut down, the whole offense would stall.
On the sidelines, Coach Ancelotti frowned deeply.
He had expected Inter to mark Suker, but not with this level of extremity—three players, in constant coordination.
"We need to make a change," Ancelotti muttered.
Meanwhile on the field, Kaká watched as Suker kept getting fouled and smothered.
"With that kind of coverage, Suker's not going to break through…"
Kaká quietly mumbled to himself, then turned and dropped deeper.
Suker got up from the turf again.
"How's that?" Srna grinned smugly.
"We've been practicing for a full week—nonstop—just figuring out how to shut you down."
Suker rolled his eyes.
Srna laughed and added,
"Screw you!"
Suker was furious.
"We'll see about that."
He tried pulling back deeper like usual—normally that gave him some breathing room.
But not this time.
As soon as he dropped near the halfway line, Dacourt followed him.
When he dropped into his own half, Ibrahimović came pressing.
When he moved up toward Inter's defensive line again, Srna was already on him.
Unbelievable. They're targeting my entire side of the field!
Every time he got the ball, the swarm came instantly, often even committing fouls just to shut him down.
After a few attempts, Suker realized:
Inter came prepared. Their whole strategy revolves around stopping me.
"Suker has been effectively contained. With Milan's focal point cut off, how will they respond?"
Commentator Aldo Serena questioned solemnly.
All season long, Milan's success had hinged on Suker.
If he couldn't perform, Milan's offense would freeze up.
But Suker was still trying to adapt.
Just then, he heard a shout:
"Pass it!"
It was Kaká calling for the ball.
Seeing Kaká slip into open space, Pirlo immediately played the pass forward.
Kaká glanced over at Suker, prompting Srna to stay focused on his assignment.Inter refused to loosen their pressure on Suker.
Realizing there was no chance to pass to Suker, Kaká kept the ball, used his explosive speed to burst past Materazzi, then played it ahead to Ronaldo.
Ronaldo, with his back to goal, couldn't turn—so he laid it off right…
To Cafu, who was making an overlapping run!
"The fullback is pushing forward—Cafu on the flank! What will he do?"
Cafu looked ahead.
Suker, seeing this, charged toward the penalty area at full speed.
His run instantly made Inter's defenders panic, and the backline was dragged toward the box to track him.
"Nice!" Kaká couldn't help but praise the move.
Now positioned just outside the penalty arc, Kaká was totally unmarked—all eyes were on Suker and Ronaldo.
Cafu, from near the byline, saw this clearly.
He lifted a chip cross.
The ball soared over Inter's backline and dropped perfectly in front of Kaká.
"Shoot it!"
Suker shouted.
Kaká adjusted his stance and volleyed the falling ball.
Goalkeeper César had shifted left, expecting the shot to that side—
But Kaká's strike flew toward the right post.
César had no chance—The ball blazed past like a comet.
Swish!
César didn't even react. The ball rocketed into the net.
For a split second, the whole stadium went dead silent.
Then—
A small section of Milan fans exploded in cheers.
They had feared that with Suker shut down, Milan's attack would falter.But suddenly, Kaká stepped up, and with a brilliant goal, gave AC Milan the lead.
After the goal, Kaká crossed himself on his chest, pointed both hands to the sky, and ran to the corner flag to celebrate.
Suker blinked a few times.
"Now that's more like it!"
Today's Kaká felt… different.
"Kaká!!! What a stunning strike! With defenders fixated on Suker and Ronaldo, Kaká exploited the open space. The chip from Cafu was excellent, but that finish? Incredible accuracy."
"From initiating the play to finishing the shot—Kaká handled it all!"
"Inter's hyper-focus on Suker gave Kaká his moment. They forgot—Milan isn't just Suker."
Kaká was all smiles as he celebrated.
He had decided: if Suker was locked down, someone had to step up.
Usually, he played the support role, creating chances for Suker.
He knew: a team could only have one tactical core. For Milan, that was Suker.
But if the core got shut down, someone had to carry the load.
This goal was Kaká's message to Inter:
"You can stop Suker—but you can't stop all of us."
AC Milan is more than just one man.
As Kaká basked in the moment, Suker suddenly jumped on his back and started messing up his hair.
"One damn seafood paella and you go Super Saiyan?! I've been begging you to step up all season! Now one seafood dish and suddenly you're world-class?!"
Kaká rolled his eyes.
He really thinks I'm just some food-motivated idiot…
Sure, the paella promise helped a bit—but this was mostly tactical discipline.
Kaká had always held back, so as not to overshadow Suker's central role.
But if Suker was shut down, Kaká would not hesitate to take over.
If it had been anyone else as the main star, Kaká wouldn't have been so considerate.
He only accepted being the support because the main man was Suker.
Anyone else? Not worthy.
"Stop messing with my hair! I'm gonna go bald!"
"You're a Christian—don't be so aggressive!" Suker said, still messing it up.
Kaká was seething.
Even the most patient man of faith would snap under Suker's antics.
Smack!
Suker jumped off Kaká's back and held out a hand.
"Let's switch roles. Inter's all over me now, so I'll be your wingman. Let's raise hell."
Kaká smiled, slapped Suker's palm—
Smack!
A crisp high-five echoed across the pitch—Like the overture to Milan's next offensive storm.