Suker's dazzling breakthrough sent the entire stadium into a frenzy of cheers.
Even the AC Milan fans didn't hold back their applause.
They loved victory, yes, but they also paid their respect with claps for brilliant plays and goals.
Suker's move was undeniably spectacular, a perfect blend of flair and competitiveness.
His sharp burst from the right wing left AC Milan defenseless. Especially after Gattuso failed to contain him, Milan's situation grew increasingly dire.
Gattuso climbed off the ground, brushing grass from his kit, his face full of helplessness.
He had truly given it his all—but he still couldn't stop Suker.
The rest of the team shared the same helpless feeling. Suker's breakaways left them dumbfounded.
Of course, Raul's run was equally brilliant.
He found space in the perfect moment, and Suker's backheel pass landed right on target for the assist.
Real Madrid drew first blood, making things even harder for Milan.
"Milan's in trouble. They can't contain Suker, which basically means they can't contain Real Madrid. And as time passes, their condition will only worsen."
Aldo Serena shook his head.
This season, AC Milan had collapsed in the second half many times.
They played well in the first half, but by the second half, they lost their competitiveness entirely.
That's the fundamental issue with a team built around aging veterans.
Their stamina just couldn't carry them through a full 90 minutes. While they started steady, once the pace and intensity picked up, they simply couldn't keep up.
Kaká pursed his lips. Deep down, his hunger to win burned strong.
Even against Suker. Even against Real Madrid. They didn't want to give up.
"Pato!"
Kaká suddenly called over to Pato.
"Next, you need to fully unleash your explosiveness. Whether we score or not depends on you."
Pato looked surprised.
"What about you?"
Kaká was Milan's offensive core—everything this season had revolved around him.
Kaká exhaled slowly, "I'll drop back to stabilize midfield tempo."
For Milan, stabilizing the midfield was the key.
Before the army moves, the supply lines must be secured.
If Real Madrid cut off their midfield delivery, AC Milan would lose any hope of staying in the match.
The game resumed.
Suker was fired up. With Real Madrid in the lead, morale surged among the squad.
Their attack now became even more aggressive.
Milan, unsurprisingly, chose to defend.
At least for the final 10 minutes of the first half—they had to hold on.
Breathe during halftime.
Regroup for the second half.
Right now, their priority was to steady the situation.
Even Kaká dropped deep into his own half to join the defense.
Real Madrid kept pressing.
Suker was relentless.
Even against his old club, he showed no mercy.
After the first goal, taking advantage of Gattuso still struggling to recover, Suker turned up the pressure.
In the 37th minute, Suker used his heel to flick the ball behind him down the sideline, then raced forward.
But this time, breaking through wouldn't be so easy.
Why?
Because Kaká had tracked back and was running side by side with him.
They were almost equal in speed.
Most importantly, Kaká picked the perfect moment for a sliding tackle, poking the ball out of bounds.
Suker lightly leaped to avoid the tackle, astonished.
Kaká learned that move?
Kaká got up without even looking at Suker and immediately returned to defend.
His mind was completely focused on stabilizing the team, fully immersed in the match.
Real Madrid threw in a quick ball. Suker instantly launched a long pass to the right side.
Higuaín received it, but couldn't control it properly, and the ball slipped away.
Šimić pounced, shielding Higuaín and passing forward to Kaká.
Kaká took the ball, feinted to the right, fooling Diarra into shifting weight, then spun the other way.
Once he turned, he swung his right foot and smashed the ball forward.
It was a 30-meter diagonal ground pass from his own half to the edge of the opposition box.
The ball zipped through a crowded field, ending up right at a sharp angle near the box.
Pato arrived in full sprint.
But he was a second too slow—the ball was cleared with a fierce slide tackle from Ramos.
Pato leapt to avoid the tackle but still gave Kaká a thumbs up.
"Oh my god! What a pass from Kaká! That vision—absolutely brilliant! If only Pato wasn't so raw—if it had been Suker…"
Aldo Serena trailed off and shook his head.
Suker no longer belonged to Milan.
At the same time, Suker widened his eyes at Kaká's passing masterclass.
What the hell?!
When did this guy learn that?
Kaká had always been a decent passer, but never this sharp.
That pass sliced through a crowd and traveled 30 meters—demanding perfect timing, vision, and technique.
Kaká nailed them all.
Pato was just too green, his reaction a second too slow.
If it had been Suker—he'd be one-on-one with the keeper.
Suker's gaze toward Kaká turned fiery.
Damn it!I have to bring this guy to Real Madrid.
In the second half, both sides switched sides.
Milan made tactical adjustments.
Kaká dropped deeper, shifting the formation to a 4-4-2.
He played wide midfield with more freedom.
He frequently dropped back to help defensively and even supported efforts to contain Suker with his pace.
Meanwhile, he also helped Milan stabilize the tempo.
His passing repeatedly created threats for Milan.
There were several moments where Kaká initiated and directed attacks that nearly broke through Real Madrid's defense.
Seeing this, Suker fully realized—
Kaká had successfully transitioned into a true midfielder.
This guy had always been incredibly gifted.
His awareness, vision—they were elite.
Now, he added crisp passing to the mix.
Through balls.Long balls.Even the flashy rainbow pass.
He had become not just a competent midfielder, but an excellent one.
Suker was full of emotion.
After Suker left, Kaká never gave up on growing.
Now, he had nearly completed his transformation.
However, despite Kaká's brilliant performance and his ability to deliver dangerous passes—
Milan had no reliable finisher up front.
Pato was too raw.
Ronaldinho was sloppy and unfocused.
Inzaghi, subbed on in the second half, was completely shut down by Pepe.
Time flew by.
The score remained AC Milan 0:1 Real Madrid.
Only when the final whistle blew did the players stop.
"We still lost…"
Kaká shook his head, disappointed.
Even after making changes and shifting his role,
He couldn't carry the whole team alone.
When he dropped back, Milan's frontline lost its bite.
Pato had talent, but he hadn't matured yet.
"The game ends. Milan lose 0:1 to Real Madrid."
"Raúl scored the match's only goal. Real Madrid beat Milan in both group-stage legs."
Aldo Serena sighed: "Milan has a lot of problems in this match. I hope the coaching staff and management reflect and make changes… bring some energy back to Italian football."
His final words were full of fatigue.
Once dubbed the "retirement league," the Premier League had rapidly risen to become Europe's top competition.
La Liga had become a hot topic thanks to Barcelona, and now with Suker at Real Madrid, the league's popularity surged.
Once dominated by Serie A, these two leagues had found their own style and quickly improved.
Only Serie A seemed to be fading, heading toward decline.
And when Suker—the face of Serie A—left, perhaps all of this had already been fated.
When the match ended, Suker finally got to reunite with his old teammates.
He swapped jerseys with Kaká.
Suker slung the shirt over his shoulder, curious: "When did you learn that?"
"You mean the passing?"
Kaká smiled bitterly. "I've been practicing all along. Just made a big leap this season."
Suker nodded.
For a player to grow, they must go through the trial of being the core.
Back in Milan, Suker consumed most of the team's resources, limiting Kaká's exposure and growth.
In hindsight, letting Kaká stay another season had been a blessing.
He experienced what it meant to be the team's engine, felt the pressure—and used it as fuel to improve.
Even in just four months, the changes were shocking.
Šimunić and Šimić came over too.
"Damn, you're in crazy good form," said Šimunić.
Though Suker had only one assist, his overall impact was overwhelming.
He single-handedly disrupted Milan's game and stifled their attacks.
Suker looked at Šimunić: "Got any plans?"
Allegri wanted to clean out the Eastern European players, so Šimunić and Šimić were surely on their way out.
Šimunić shrugged: "We're in talks with Germany—maybe I'll go back."
"Hertha Berlin?" Suker asked.
Šimunić shook his head. "Looking for a more competitive side. Currently talking to Schalke 04."
Suker frowned.
That's not great. Schalke would have no market in the future, even if they looked promising now.
"Go to Dortmund!" Suker grinned. "Find Mario, you two can turn Dortmund into the 'Stoke City' of the Bundesliga."
Everyone burst into laughter.
"Let's talk after the season," Šimunić said. "I'm focusing on the national team now."
Suker and Šimić nodded instantly.
In the final round of the World Cup qualifiers, Croatia would face Andorra.
Even though Andorra was a minnow and nobody expected them to beat Croatia, Bilic still called up the full squad—just to be safe.
Whether they played or not wasn't the point—presence mattered.
November 9, the final World Cup qualifier was held at Maksimir Stadium in Zagreb.
Croatia hosted Andorra.
Suker and most of the starters were on the bench, but Croatia still dominated the game.
So, Suker and his teammates sat chatting.
"How's everything on your end?" Suker asked Modrić.
This year's Ballon d'Or went to Messi, which fired up Cristiano Ronaldo even more.
He became even more intense—his goal rate shot up.
In the Champions League, Ronaldo was the second-highest scorer after Suker.
In the league, he topped the Premier League scoring chart.
Many predicted the FIFA World Player of the Year could go to Ronaldo, but nothing was certain until the official announcement.
"We're doing alright. Slightly behind Chelsea in the league," Modrić replied, propping up his cheek. "Overall the club's doing okay, but…"
He hesitated.
Not long ago, Sir Alex Ferguson collapsed during training and had to be rushed to the hospital.
The club and Ferguson both claimed it was nothing serious.
But for the United players, it was a heavy emotional blow.
Still, Modrić didn't want to bring it up.
"We did pretty well too!" Duimović suddenly chimed in smugly. "We drew Man United at Old Trafford in the Champions League."
Modrić rolled his eyes.
That was the game Ferguson missed—his assistants ran the whole show.
CSKA Moscow seized the chance and drew 3–3.
Duimović even scored a long-range screamer.
No wonder the guy was so cocky—he just wanted to brag.
Suker chuckled, about to say something—when a loud argument broke out nearby.
Everyone fell silent and turned to look.
Van Šterjak and Bilic were having a heated dispute.
"We can't keep attacking—DEFEND! DEFEND!" Bilic roared.
"Defend my ass!" Van Šterjak snapped back. "Morale's high—this is the best time to score more!"
"You need to be cautious! Did you forget what happened last game?"
"I am being cautious! If we score again and widen the gap, the match becomes more stable!"
Bilic opened his mouth—what kind of twisted logic is that?
Modrić tilted his head. "It sounds crazy, but kind of makes sense…"
Suker couldn't help but grin.
Bilic pointed at the scoreboard and shouted, "It's 4:0 already! What more do you want?"
Van Šterjak: "I want another goal—to make the game even more stable."
SWISH!
The ball hit the net.
Cheers erupted once more.
Maksimir Stadium exploded.
Bilic pointed at the field and sighed, "It's 5:0 now… come on man. Let's defend, please."
Van Šterjak: "..."Suker: "..."Modrić: "..."
"The game is almost over. Croatia have played an absolutely brilliant match!"
"The boys are about to seal a victory in their final World Cup qualifier. With this win, we secure the top spot in the group!"
"Croatia missed the 2006 World Cup, but in 2010, the young Croats are back with a vengeance—just one step from qualification!"
Klaushević was ecstatic.
With a 5:0 lead and total dominance, Croatia's qualification was all but certain.
The home fans began singing loudly to celebrate.
They sang the Croatian folk anthem 'Victory Is With Us'.
The powerful lyrics, shouted from tens of thousands of throats, sent chills down the spine.
Croatian fans sang, laughed, and jumped for joy.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!Three whistles.
The stadium erupted.
Klaushević jumped from his seat, tore off his headset, and ran straight into the stands.
Frenzied energy surged through the arena.
ROAAAAAR!!!!
Thunderous cheers shook the sky.
One by one, Croatian fans opened their arms, crying out in pure joy.
Klaushević spread his arms wide, face flushed with excitement, shouting toward the pitch:
"South Africa! Here we come!!!"
BOOM!!!!!!!
At Maksimir Stadium, the moment the whistle blew, Suker and the others jumped from the bench and rushed the field.
He tackled teammates to the ground and rubbed their heads wildly.
Srna, Rakitić, Lovren—even Perišić wasn't spared from Suker's head-patting frenzy.
They all felt a bit weird—it was like he was petting dogs or cats.
But none of that mattered.
After a long qualification journey, they finally sealed the win.
With this, they secured first place in their group.
They would represent Europe and compete in the 2010 World Cup in South Africa!
Following Euro 2008, this was the next big stage for Croatia's rising generation.
A dream stage—perhaps once-in-a-lifetime.