"Suker!! Oh~ my god! With Atlético Madrid down to ten men, Real Madrid has completely opened the floodgates!"
"Ramos had just scored, and three minutes later, Suker blasted past Álvaro on the left wing and smashed a powerful shot into the near post again!"
"Real Madrid now lead by two!"
"Should Atlético make some adjustments?"
Atlético made a change immediately.They had no choice. If they didn't stabilize their defense, not only would a comeback be impossible—they might get massacred!
Simão had just played for seven minutes when he was subbed off.He looked completely stunned.He had been performing well!If anyone should've been subbed, it should've been Forlán!Forlán wasn't even tracking back to defend!
But Atlético still took Simão off.He stormed off angrily, even kicking over a water bottle to show his dissatisfaction.
Still, Atlético had no other options.The substitution happened!But the problem wasn't solved.
With one man down, they managed to patch up the defense a little, but they lost a key part of their counterattack.There was no one to link up, no one to create space for Agüero, and Forlán's dribbling was stifled by joint defending.
Against Real Madrid's defense, the two forwards couldn't move at all.
Reyes tried to find a chance for a through pass—he's very good at those.But looking at Real Madrid's positioning, they gave him no opening whatsoever.
Time ticked on.
In the 30th minute, Real Madrid launched another counterattack.
This one was initiated by Suker and Benzema's interception.Benzema stole the ball and immediately turned to sprint.Suker charged in from behind Benzema, running diagonally to the left.Benzema saw Suker's run and instantly passed into the space.
At that moment, Suker accelerated again, chasing the ball.As he reached the spot, he adjusted his footing slightly and blasted it with his left foot.
Bang!The ball rocketed like a missile toward the goal.De Gea dove to save, but Suker's shot was too powerful—De Gea couldn't hold onto it.The ball slammed into his palm, bounced off the crossbar, and deflected into the net.
41st minute: Suker scores a brace.
Real Madrid extend the lead to 3–0.
At this point, Atlético Madrid had no chance left.
They were already at a disadvantage being away and down to ten men.Now, three goals behind?
Some Atlético fans began leaving in disappointment.
In Atlético's locker room, Gareira was holding his head, watching the match on TV.He was filled with regret.
If he hadn't gone in for that tackle, would Suker still have scored?Even if he had, at least they would've had a full squad and a chance to fight back.Now everything was ruined.
During halftime, Benzema scratched his head and said, "It's kind of weird, feels like the ref favors us."
"More like he favors Suker," Ramos grinned. "That guy grabbed De Gea by the collar and yelled at him like crazy, and nothing happened."
At the end of the first half, De Gea came out to intercept and made a dirty challenge—he didn't pull his leg back, and his knee slammed into Benzema's head.Suker immediately stood up for his teammate, grabbed De Gea's collar and shouted furiously, leaving De Gea totally stunned.
But after that, Suker got away without even a card.
Benzema rubbed his slightly bruised head. "What did you do?"
"I pay a lot of taxes," Suker said casually.
Benzema looked puzzled.
But the benefits of Suker's high tax contributions went beyond that.
Thanks to the government's support, Spain's official media basically turned into Suker's fan club—they hyped him so much that even Suker felt embarrassed.TV broadcasts were filled with Suker-related content.His posters and ads flooded city streets.The Spanish government was using every means to boost Suker's influence—because the more money he made, the more taxes he paid.
As a result, Suker's popularity even surpassed Messi's.Although he couldn't rival Messi in Catalonia, elsewhere in Spain, with non-stop media praise, Suker was more influential and popular.
"Paying more tax gives you perks like that?" Benzema asked in amazement.
Suker shrugged. "Of course—but only when you pay enough."
Benzema: "How much did you pay?"
Suker: "You don't want to know."
A familiar line.And sure enough, Benzema raised his hand: "Alright, I don't want to know."
Every time Suker used that line, it meant the number was way beyond Benzema's imagination.He didn't want to be depressed.
In the second half, Suker only played 5 minutes to maintain his rhythm, then Pellegrini subbed him off.No need for him to stay on—Atlético had already lost the will to fight.Real Madrid just needed to maintain control.
Suker sat peacefully on the bench, munching on a banana.After this match, the Champions League was coming up.That's the most anticipated event for Real Madrid fans, and Pellegrini needed Suker in top form.
Because if Suker wasn't in form, Real Madrid couldn't perform—and if Real Madrid didn't perform, Pellegrini would be out of a job.
In other words, Suker's form directly affected Pellegrini's future.So even if Suker kept giving Pellegrini a hard time, the coach had to put up with it.
No choice!This guy's a big shot!You have to pamper him!
Eventually, the match ended:Real Madrid 3–0 Atlético Madrid.
With an aggregate score of 6–3, they moved smoothly into the Copa del Rey final.
The final would take place on May 20th, still a long way off—plenty of time to focus on the Champions League.
That evening, Suker returned to his villa and immediately called Vukojević.
"I heard Claude Puel's been using you like a plow bull lately?"
Hearing this, Vukojević sighed. "That's a weird analogy—but not wrong!"
"From the beginning of the season, I've played every match—Champions League, league games, French Cup, other cups—every single one, full 90 minutes, no rest at all!"
He sounded utterly exhausted.
"Not a single game off?" Suker was surprised.
Vukojević nodded. "Yup. But what can I do? Puel wants me to stay, but Mendes and I already agreed—I want to transfer. Lyon won't win the Champions League."
"You and Luka already have Champions League titles. Srna's doing great at Inter this season too—they're real contenders."
"I want to win too, so I have to move. Mendes connected me with Bayern Munich—they have the potential."
Suker nodded.Bayern was indeed the best option outside of Real Madrid and Barcelona.
"But here's the problem," Vukojević continued. "Puel tried to keep me—when I refused, he started pushing me to the limit."
Suker grinned. "He wants to squeeze all your value out before you leave."
"Exactly!" Vukojević sighed. "But it's still better than not playing at all."
Suker nodded, but warned, "Don't get injured. You don't want to miss the World Cup."
"Of course not!" Vukojević smiled. "Don't worry—I'll handle the defense!"
Suker smiled too. "And I'll take care of scoring goals!"
After hanging up, Suker remained worried.
Puel really was squeezing every drop of value from Vukojević.
As a coach, it made sense—he wasn't going to take care of a player who was pared to coaches who stubbornly benched players, Puel's method was at least pragmatic, though also very harsh.
But as Vukojević said—better than no playing time.
Still, could Vukojević survive an entire season—90 minutes, every match in every competition—and stay fit for the World Cup?
Suker's brain started going down a twisted path again.
What if… I injured him now? Just a little… force him to rest for a few weeks.
But the tricky part was the timing and the force—not too light, not too heavy.
Then another issue—what if Puel was crazy enough to make him play through injury with painkillers?
Suker was getting a headache.
At the training ground, he turned to Ramos:"Can you teach me how to tackle someone? Like… injure them just enough to make them rest 3–4 weeks, without affecting their future."
Ramos was stunned. "What?! That's not something you teach!"
He always tackled with the intention to destroy—not with surgical precision.
"That kind of injury—ankle sprains, muscle strains—those are small ones, sure. But hitting just right to get that outcome? That's not easy."
"I can't do that," Ramos shook his head.
Suker scratched his head. "What if I just aim for the ankle until I succeed?"
Ramos frowned. "Who are you trying to tackle? Did they offend you?"
"No," Suker shook his head. "I just want them to rest for a bit."
Ramos: "???"
He understood every word—but together, it made no sense.
"I can't help you," Ramos said.
Later that evening, Suker visited Pepe, who was recovering at home.Pepe was healing well and might make it to the World Cup, so his mood was good.
"You want to injure someone? Precisely? For 1–2 weeks? Are you insane?!" Pepe barked. "You're nuts!"
Suker glared. "Say that again, and I'll break your bones again—you'll miss the World Cup."
Pepe: "…"
"I really can't do it," Pepe said. "Maybe ask a veteran defender—they might know."
Suker blinked. "Veteran defender?"
So he started calling Nesta, Gattuso, Maldini, Šimunić, Šimić, Kovač—even members of Croatia's golden generation.They all gave the same answer: "Are you insane?"
Finally, Suker explained his plan to Šimunić.Šimunić was stunned—injuring your own national teammate to make him rest?
What kind of twisted logic was this?
"Does Vukojević know?" he asked.
Suker shook his head. "No."
Šimunić was dumbfounded.
But then, he had an idea.
"It's not impossible," he said.If Vukojević cooperated, they could simulate a targeted injury."Just go for his plant foot."
Suker's eyes lit up."That's brilliant!"
Šimunić: "No—you're the real genius."
Calling Vukojević…
"You want to tackle me? Intentionally injure me?" Vukojević was shocked, almost shrieking.
"You don't get it. If you're injured at the end of the season, you might miss the World Cup. I'm just being proactive! Two weeks' rest! I'll handle it!"
"Go to hell! Are you even human?!"
"Hey—I'm doing this for you."
"You injure me 'for my own good'?! Are you nuts?!"
"Then what's your plan?"
"I'm not injured yet! No one said I would be! What if I don't get hurt?!"
"But what if you do?!"
"You're crazy!!"
The more they argued, the angrier they got.
Suker: "I don't care! I'll tackle you no matter what!"
"You bastard!"
Vukojević was exasperated.
"Listen," he said seriously. "Right now, this is all hypothetical. I'm fine. I'll take care of myself—I will play in the World Cup. Even if I'm injured, I'll play through it."
"No need," Suker said. "Let me tackle you now!"
"Get lost! Can't you think of anything else besides tackling me?!"
Vukojević was fuming.
Who's the defensive midfielder here?!Why is a striker so obsessed with tackling me?!
He sighed."Suker—I'll be fine. Trust me. I won't overexert myself."
"…If I see you going too hard next match," Suker warned, "I'm tackling you."
Vukojević was on the verge of tears.
Suker meant well—but his logic was bizarre.
They didn't reach an agreement.But Suker wouldn't tackle him recklessly.He could only hope Vukojević stayed healthy.
Meanwhile, in Lyon…
Vukojević put down his phone with a sigh.Mendes had overheard everything, face filled with disbelief.
He knew Suker was eccentric—but this?
Injuring your teammate on purpose so he could rest?
Unheard of.
"I think I'll get injured from stress," Vukojević muttered.
Mendes forced a smile. "He means well. He wouldn't really tackle a teammate, right?"
Vukojević was silent.The air got tense.
"…He wouldn't. Right?" Mendes asked hesitantly.
Vukojević sighed. "Suker's weird. Once he decides something, it's hard to change his mind. I've calmed him down for now—but if I push too hard in a game, he might really tackle me."
Mendes: "…"
"Damn it," Vukojević chuckled bitterly. "I'm a defensive midfielder, and I have to watch out for my own striker? What kind of joke is this?!"
Soon, the news of Suker's plan spread in the national team—thanks to loose-lipped Šimunić.Suker became the target of universal condemnation.
Modrić, Mandžukić, Dujmović, Srna, even Davor Šuker, Boban, coach Bilić, and assistant Van Stojak all called to beg Suker to take it easy.
Listening to everyone's pleas, Suker just felt… misunderstood.
Getting injured now and resting for a while was better than missing the World Cup altogether!And he was even risking cards for this!
Suker shook his head.
If only Vukojević would let me injure him quietly—then wait for the World Cup to start.
Surely Lyon's coach would still use him once he recovered!
Sigh… Such heartfelt "brotherhood"—always misunderstood!
Suker shook his head, feeling defeated.