"Suker! A breakthrough from Suker! My God, he's so fast!"
At Bordeaux's Stade Chaban-Delmas, a stadium that holds over 40,000 fans, what should have been a passionate and roaring crowd quickly fell silent during this UEFA Champions League quarterfinal second leg.
The fans watched nervously as the man in the black away jersey with the number 9 kept tearing through their left flank defense. It was as if their hearts were being squeezed in a fist—they were so tense they didn't dare breathe, fearing one misstep would give that man another chance to break through.
In just 20 minutes, it was like the entire stadium had its volume turned off.
That's how much pressure Suker exerted.
"Suker again with the wing breakthrough! How is Bordeaux supposed to contain him?"
Suker began his trademark stepover dribbles. On camera, his upper body swayed wildly, dazzling the Bordeaux defenders.
As he got closer, the defender grew increasingly anxious. The moment Suker feinted, the defender instinctively stuck out a foot.
The next second, Suker cut the ball back the other direction, opening space for a shot. Following up with his left foot, he lashed the ball—threading it through the defender's legs and past the keeper into the side netting.
"Goal!!!! Suker!!!"
"Brilliant solo effort—20 minutes in and Bordeaux couldn't withstand Suker's pressure! Real Madrid now lead 1–0 away and move closer to the UCL semifinals!"
Commentator Gonzalez shouted.
Suker celebrated with arms outstretched at the corner flag.
Meanwhile, Bordeaux fans were left breathless. Their faces flushed—they wanted to boo the cocky striker but couldn't deny how incredible his breakthroughs had been.
Caught in this emotional contradiction, the stadium remained eerily quiet, save for the pockets of jubilant Madridistas.
Up in the VIP box, Florentino Pérez sat beside Zidane.
"Suker is still performing at a top level—it's as if the long season hasn't affected him," Zidane marveled.
Now retired, Zidane often reminisced about his playing days. Suker's performance frequently left him awestruck.
"That's why I went all in and brought him to the Bernabéu," Florentino said with a satisfied smile.
Back then, he pushed for a €100 million transfer despite strong resistance from the board.
But now? Many believed even €100 million was a bargain for Suker.
Of course, Suker hadn't yet brought any trophies to Madrid. But:
This was only his first season,
And everyone—from fans to executives—believed that as long as Suker stayed, Madrid could build a superteam around him.
One that could match—or even surpass—Barcelona.
Florentino took a sip of wine and said, "After this match comes El Clásico—we'll be facing Barcelona away."
"A brutal fixture," Zidane sighed.
Compared to his playing days, the pressure was now much greater. Back then, you could stop Ronaldinho and likely win. But now, Barça had multiple core players—there was no single point to shut down.
"Ladepp lacks experience. You'll need to help with the tactical setup," Florentino added.
"I can offer advice," Zidane replied. "When I was a player, I hated dictatorial managers. I always wished they'd take players' ideas seriously. So now I want to build that kind of dynamic."
Florentino sighed. "Fine. It's just a transitional phase anyway. Help him where you can."
Zidane nodded. "What about Mourinho…?"
Florentino smirked.
"No manager can resist the allure of coaching Real Madrid. If Mourinho wants to take the next step—to truly command a superclub and challenge Barcelona—there's only one option for him."
WHOA!!!!!!!
A massive roar erupted from the crowd.
Florentino and Zidane both turned toward the pitch—just in time to see a player rise in the box, body arched backward, legs scissoring forward.
A stunning bicycle kick!
"Whoa!" Zidane couldn't help but gasp.
Florentino beamed.
SWOOSH!
The ball slammed into the net.
Silence fell again in the stadium.
Florentino's eyes gleamed. "Also… no coach can resist the chance to work with Suker!"
Halftime. Suker munched on a banana while Ladepp broke down the first half.
"Just as we expected, Bordeaux's attack hasn't troubled our defense. Credit to Ramos for a solid showing."
Everyone turned toward Ramos.
He raised his hand and flashed a cool grin, making the team laugh.
Suker glanced over too. Ramos, in his transition to a new role, needed good-quality opponents to grow. But La Liga's disparity—teams were either too weak or too strong—made consistent development tough.
After biting his banana, Suker said through a chew, "Let's sub in Karim in the second half so he can tune his form."
Second Half. The teams switched sides.
Real Madrid, comfortably ahead on aggregate, played relaxed football.
Bordeaux? Clueless and aimless.
Chamakh was a mess up front—he couldn't receive passes, and even when he did, Ramos would just plow through him.
Compared to Suker, Chamakh looked like he came from a different world.
All of Chamakh's pre-match trash talk was ignored by Suker from start to finish.
Just like the media said—
"Clown!"
Chamakh's confidence began to unravel.
Was this his limit?Could he really play better than this?
When a player begins doubting himself, his ceiling becomes his prison.
71st minute.Suker off.Benzema on.
Real, holding a secure lead, focused on tactical rotations—shoring up the defense while keeping starters fresh for El Clásico.
Chamakh? Lost in the shadows.
"Full-time! Real Madrid win 4–0 on aggregate over Bordeaux and advance to the UEFA Champions League semifinals!"
"Their last semifinal appearance was in 2002/03—seven years ago!"
Morale soared.
Despite a rocky season full of setbacks, Madrid had now:
Reached the Champions League semifinals
Returned to the top of La Liga
This was turning into a very promising campaign.
But the toughest battles still lay ahead.
The next day. Real Madrid coaching office.
"Sorry, it's a bit messy in here," said Ladepp as he tidied files and crumpled papers.
Suker and Casillas noticed most of them were B team and youth academy reports. Clearly, Ladepp—though currently first-team interim coach—was still handling his previous duties too.
After a bit, someone entered.
"I'm not late, right?"
Zidane walked in, sharply dressed in a black suit.
"Hey! Long time no see!" Casillas stood to greet him.
Suker gave him a quick hug as well.
"I watched your UCL game—fantastic," Zidane said, then turned to Suker with a smile. "If you'd been in our era, we wouldn't have struggled so much."
Suker smiled but said nothing. It was polite flattery—truthfully, Zidane-era Madrid had defensive issues. Even with him, not much would've changed.
"Shall we begin?" Zidane gestured to the documents.
As club advisor, Zidane had joined the meeting to help plan for the upcoming clash against Barcelona.
Ahem. Ladepp cleared his throat.
"So far, the two most effective tactics against Barcelona have been counter-attacking and high pressing. Suker's been involved in both. Suker, which do you think is better?"
Suker replied bluntly, "High press."
Everyone nodded.
Then Zidane spoke, "While high pressing is threatening, we need to think about defense too. It could easily turn into an open shootout—and doing that at Camp Nou isn't ideal."
Valid concern. Madrid's defense wasn't solid enough for that.
Casillas suggested: "Like AC Milan once did—double pivot to block Messi and then focus on counterattacks. Might be safer."
Suker argued, "That gives Barcelona's midfield too much freedom. We might not even get past the halfway line if we sit back."
The group kept debating, but no consensus formed.
Ladepp, in typical fashion, said almost nothing—just watched.
An hour passed. Still no agreement.
Casillas rubbed his temples.
Zidane frowned deeply.
Suker sighed.
This is the problem with not having a true head coach.
Too many opinions, not enough direction.
"How about this," Suker offered. "Let's combine ideas—high press in the first half while we have energy. Go for the early goal. If that doesn't work, switch to defense in the second."
Casillas asked, "What if we concede first? Still go defensive?"
Everyone fell silent again.
Damn it. Suker was frustrated. Why do we players have to come up with the tactics too?
Then Zidane spoke.
"I support Suker's proposal. It's the most practical compromise. This match already doesn't favor us—away game, uncertain form."
Suker nodded.
Their previous win had many factors:
Suker's control of Busquets
Messi's poor game
Madrid's morale
Xavi's absence
But this time? Xavi would play.Messi would be smarter.Only Busquets was still vulnerable.
That's why Suker insisted on high pressing.
Drag Barcelona into chaos early. Score first. Like Atlético did. That's their best shot.
"Alright. Let's go with that," Ladepp finally declared.
He said he'd communicate with the coaching staff and prepare over the next two days.
Meanwhile, in Barcelona, preparations were also underway.
Pep Guardiola stared at a data sheet—Suker's stats from recent matches.
If they wanted to beat Madrid, they had to contain Suker.
But how?
They couldn't throw their whole defense at him like smaller teams.
It'd be ugly—and ineffective.
Control the midfield—that was key.
Fortunately, Xavi was back.
Though Yaya Touré was excellent, Xavi was the heart of Tiki-Taka.
Pep handed the sheet to his assistant and close friend, Estiarte.
Estiarte had a unique background—originally a water polo athlete, not a footballer—but Guardiola trusted his tactical instincts deeply.
Estiarte refused the data sheet.
"No top player can be summed up by numbers. Their instincts and judgment shape the game. Trusting stats too much can lead to disaster."
Pep put the data back down.
"Madrid have Suker. We have Messi. Our squad is better overall. We don't need the numbers—we'll win," he said.
Estiarte asked, "You really believe that?"
Pep looked at him.
Estiarte said, "Suker and Messi aren't the same. Right now, Messi relies more on the team—without them, his performance dips. But Suker…"
He frowned.
"He's like an ACE in water polo. Unstoppable. It's scary to see that kind of player in football."