"I reckon from now on, Li Ang's not getting any more free touches in this zone," He Wei joked with a grin. "He probably wasn't even thinking of shooting, but no one's gonna take that gamble anymore. What happened to Rayo scared the life out of Granada's defenders."
"Coach Zhang, do you think Li Ang intentionally moved into that zone this ti?"
"Could be," Zhang responded thoughtfully. "Kid's smart. Wouldn't be surprised if he drew Granada's back line out on purpose to create a better chance for Morata to make a run."
From the comfort of the broadcast studio, He Wei and Coach Zhang casually constructed a ntal chessboard, projecting a multi-layered offensive plan onto Li Ang's movents.
It almost sounded like they were describing a tactical genius capable of calculating four offensive outcos in three seconds flat.
In reality, Li Ang was reacting in real ti.
If Granada's defenders hadn't stepped up, he might have just recycled the ball to the right flank and let Carvajal swing in a cross.
But He Wei was right about one thing: Li Ang knew his teammates inside and out.
The mont he saw the opening, he played a lofted pass straight to Morata—because he knew that's what Morata needed.
If it had been Callejón in that spot? He'd have zipped a grounded through ball with perfect timing.
Morata needed ti and space to leap. And when it ca to headers after a tid run, Morata was easily top five in the squad.
The kid had clearly specced his entire finishing attribute tree into aerial ability.
After the celebration, Li Ang clapped his hands and waved the others over.
"Let's keep this tight till the end of the half. In the second, we'll push for more. José—Callejón—when we defend the halfway line, don't drop too deep. Keep yourself a bit higher. If we counter, I'll find you first thing."
This wasn't Li Ang freelancing; Mourinho had laid out this exact strategy pre-match.
Li Ang had just taken it upon himself to remind everyone.
Modrić watched this unfold with mild surprise.
In previous matches where he'd started alongside Li Ang and other first-team regulars, that leadership role usually fell to Cristiano, Alonso, or Ramos.
Li Ang would chi in, especially on defense, but he was never the one calling the huddle.
Now? Every younger player around him was locked in, nodding as he spoke.
Modrić found himself thinking:
"Field general."
Compared to Casillas, who was wearing the captain's armband and had also started, it was clear—Li Ang felt more like the true leader on the pitch.
Back in their half, Modrić glanced toward Casillas, who seed completely unfazed. And in that mont, Modrić gained a new understanding of Li Ang's standing within Real Madrid.
Li Ang, oblivious to the swirling thoughts in Luka's head, calmly organized the midfield block and ensured the last few minutes of the half passed without incident.
When the whistle blew for halfti, Albiol gave him a happy high-five. Varane, still a little shy, scratched the back of his head with a quiet grin under Li Ang's encouragent.
It wasn't hard to see why all of Madrid's defenders liked him.
After all, who doesn't love a teammate who charges up to intercept, tracks back to cover you, and constantly praises your effort?
At 1–0, the halfti score was just fine, especially for a heavily rotated lineup. Mourinho's plan was being executed to perfection.
The second half would be about control. Granada's attack was no stronger than their place in the league table. As long as Madrid stayed sharp, there'd be no defensive scares.
The fans in the stands weren't loving it, though.
Another low-scoring match. Another grind.
Still, Mourinho remained unmoved. Why risk more for spectacle when you can win with minimal effort?
By the 70th minute, seeing that his attackers were unlucky in front of goal, Mourinho made a call: Basque winger Lucas Vázquez ca off, replaced by Nacho, who joined Li Ang and Matuidi to form a triple pivot in midfield.
In the 82nd minute, Mourinho subbed Essien in for Callejón.
The Bernabéu rumbled with scattered boos.
Even after winning the rescheduled Round 3 match and drawing level with Barça at 15 points atop the table, it was clear—the fans weren't pleased with the football.
Mourinho showed no emotion. At the post-match press conference, he calmly stated he would consider the fans' desire for entertaining football only after the results were secure.
But the next day, every sports daily in Spain was filled with headlines about the Bernabéu boos.
The Madrid squad couldn't pretend not to notice.
But what left them all speechless was what ca next...
It was one thing for Diario Sport to stir the pot—they were a known Barça mouthpiece, after all—but why were Marca and AS, both traditionally aligned with Real Madrid, suddenly fanning the flas too?
Shouldn't they be the ones denouncing the outside noise and defending the club's unity?
Li Ang genuinely couldn't make sense of the dia's logic.
Fortunately, the Real Madrid coaching staff didn't lose their cool in the face of this unexpected dia pressure.
Karanka and the rest of the assistants remained firmly behind Mourinho, and the club's front office swiftly launched a PR campaign that struck a careful balance: they expressed understanding toward the fans' concerns while also standing by the head coach.
Just when it seed like this wave of criticism might crash through the Madrid dressing room, it quietly veered off course.
Training and preparations continued as usual.
The fans, to their credit, didn't escalate the situation. Mourinho's silence and subtle concession—no reaction, no defiance—helped the situation lose its spark before it could catch fire.
And given the team's record so far, the critics had little to attack.
Besides, Florentino Pérez wasn't about to let anyone derail the club's montum.
Real Madrid were just one Club World Cup away from completing the sextuple. This was the season they were also trying to defend both La Liga and the Champions League.
The last thing anyone needed was a civil war between the manager and the fanbase.
Internally and externally, calm had to be maintained—even if only on the surface.
Florentino made the call personally. Sánchez contacted Mourinho and delivered the ssage: You're backed. You're safe.
With that reassurance, Mourinho breathed easier.
With most of the starters rested and the next match against newly promoted Deportivo La Coruña, he decided to go with a more aggressive tactical setup.
Before the match, Li Ang happily embraced Juan Carlos Valerón, back in La Liga after Deportivo's promotion.
Unfortunately, Valerón was nad to the bench and didn't get to start. Li Ang never got the on-field clash he was hoping for. From minute one to his own substitution in the 73rd, Valerón never entered the pitch.
A disappointing reunion for both players.
And Deportivo's return to the top flight? A 6–0 demolition.
This, despite keeper Aranzubia having a pretty decent ga.
After the match, every single Deportivo defender was rated below 6.5.
Right-back Pablo, who had the misfortune of being torched by Ronaldo all night, ended with a 4.7.
The only bright spot? Aranzubia, who despite conceding six, was rated 7.7—a testant to the onslaught he endured.
It was a performance that showcased Madrid's ruthless attacking firepower.
Ronaldo's hat trick made him the clear man of the match, and Madrid's goal difference finally pushed them past Barça, who had scraped a narrow 3–2 win over Sevilla.
For the first ti this season, Real Madrid were back on top of the La Liga table.
Both sides of the Spanish duopoly had now started the season with six wins in a row. The intensity of their battle was attracting global attention.
Looking across Europe's top leagues, only Bayern Munich had matched that perfect start.
In the Premier League, Chelsea were off to a solid run with five wins and a draw, ahead of both Manchester clubs.
In Serie A, Juventus were once again leading the pack with the sa five-win, one-draw record.
As for Ligue 1, PSG's performance had been… underwhelming. After heavy sumr investnt, they had just three wins and three draws to show for it.
Marseille, with five wins and a draw, were topping the table, but their solid start had failed to garner much interest.
Everyone's eyes were now on Real Madrid, Barcelona, and Bayern Munich.
Who would blink first in the race to hold onto the longest unbeaten start?
As Round 6 concluded, anticipation shifted to the second round of the Champions League group stage—and once again, the "Big Three" drew the most attention.
On October 2, Bayern and Barça played their fixtures first.
Barça were steady. With ssi attracting all of Benfica's defensive attention, Sánchez and Fàbregas capitalized, each scoring a goal for a clean 2–0 win.
Bayern, on the other hand… completely collapsed.
Yes, BATE Borisov away wasn't the easiest match on paper.
But no one expected Bayern's full-strength lineup to get completely outplayed.
1–3.
Clean. Brutal. Efficient.
After two group matches, BATE Borisov—not Bayern, not Valencia—sat atop Group F.
They had stunned Lille 2–0 in the first match, and now Bayern 3–1 in the second.
The European dia couldn't stop talking about it.
"Is this the dark horse of the tournant?"
"BATE Borisov—Champions League's biggest Cinderella story?"
Underdogs everywhere took hope.
Including the players of Ajax, who were preparing to host Real Madrid on October 3.
Ajax had lost their opening group match to Dortmund in the final minutes—a gutting blow—but one that had filled them with confidence nonetheless.
No one had expected them to go toe-to-toe with Dortmund. And yet, they had.
Now, with BATE Borisov shocking Europe, every second-tier team in the Champions League believed again.
They weren't just here to participate. They were here to compete.
And Ajax, facing the kings of Europe once more?
They weren't going down without a fight.
Ajax's strong showing at the Westfalenstadion, where they had gone toe-to-toe with Dortmund, had given their young players a fresh dose of ambition.
They'd nearly grabbed points away from ho—so now, playing at the Johan Cruyff Arena, they believed they had a real chance to take sothing off Real Madrid.
It was a bold goal, but not unthinkable. For these young players, it wasn't unrealistic to dream. And the way that showed on the pitch was through aggressive play—and a few inevitable signs of overexcitent.
Before kickoff, Li Ang exchanged a warm greeting with Frank de Boer, just like he had in previous encounters. But scanning Ajax's lineup, he noticed a few missing faces.
Gone were Vertonghen and Van der Wiel, two players who had made an impression the last ti these sides t.
Others, too, had been replaced by even younger, greener players.
That was simply Ajax's way of survival—develop young talent, sell them on, and reinvest. Once a player perford well enough to attract the attention of a big club, Ajax rarely stood in the way. Selling for a decent fee was part of their business model.
And bringing up the next crop of talent was essential for keeping the money flowing—not just for this season, but for the one after that too.
So for de Boer, maintaining a consistent starting XI for more than two or three seasons was basically impossible.
As for these newly promoted youngsters? They'd never played Real Madrid before. They weren't burdened by past trauma—only fired up with dreams of making their mark.
After all, a night like this could be the ultimate showcase. Against Real Madrid in the Champions League, you're not just playing for pride—you're playing for your next contract. One standout mont could earn you a transfer to one of Europe's top four leagues.
Christian Eriksen was the exception. Clear-headed as ever, he didn't chase personal glory.
On one hand, he didn't need more attention from big clubs. On the other, he knew all too well what kind of opponent they were facing tonight.
As the match began, that sa familiar sense of pressure he'd felt last year returned—hard and fast.
Watching Li Ang press high with his teammates, Eriksen couldn't help but marvel.
Last year, Li Ang had mainly anchored the backline.
Now? He was a five-ti title winner and had evolved an entire layer of attacking skill in his ga.
Sensing Eriksen's eyes on him, Li Ang turned and flashed a grin at his "old acquaintance."
"Sha. I'm playing on the left today—won't get to face him head-on. Would've liked to chat a bit more during the ga," Li Ang mused internally.
Still, he reacted quickly to a layoff pass from Benzema, his movents crisp and confident.
Ajax's right midfielder, Saná, sprinted in to intercept, reading the move well.
But Li Ang didn't panic. In fact, he slowed down slightly—baiting Saná into committing early.
Thinking he had a chance, Saná closed in hard, reaching out to poke the ball away.
That was when Li Ang exploded forward.
His sudden burst left Saná trailing, and the Ajax back line—already edging out of shape—began to lose their structure.
On the sidelines, de Boer was nearly speechless.
"A 5'7" winger trying to body-check a 6-foot midfielder? Really? You think he slowed down because he was lazy?"
Saná's overeager challenge had completely unraveled their defensive line.
Seeing this, Eriksen abandoned his zone to chase Li Ang down, unwilling to leave holding midfielder Poulsen alone to face the onslaught.
But Li Ang, reading the shift, slipped a clean horizontal pass into the feet of Modrić, who had already surged into Ajax's final third.
Modrić drove straight toward the right side of the box.
Daley Blind, scrambling to recover, shifted inside to block his path.
That was all Modrić needed. He slid the ball wide.
On the overlap ca Essien, completely unmarked from right-back.
He took one step inside—and swung in a perfect cross.
Benzema and Callejón both attacked the near post. Li Ang trailed in the middle.
Alderweireld, caught in the chaos, locked onto Li Ang and followed his leap.
But the ball soared over both of them—and only began to dip at the far post.
Ajax right-back Van Rhijn, standing 1.83 ters tall, thought he had it.
He jumped, arms outstretched.
And then, ti stopped.
Or at least, that's how it felt to him.
Above him, like a missile breaking gravity, was Cristiano Ronaldo.
"He jumped too high… that's not even fair," Van Rhijn thought, heart sinking.
"C-RONALDO TAKES FLIGHT—!!!"
On comntary, Duàn Xuān nearly broke his mic.
The stadium froze as Ronaldo hung in the air for what felt like an eternity.
Then ca the snap of his neck and the sound of forehead connecting with ball.
Clean. Violent. Precise.
Even before the ball crossed the line, Ronaldo was already sprinting toward the traveling Madrid fans, arms spread wide, roaring in celebration.
The 7,000-strong away section exploded.
Most of Ajax's players stood motionless.
Only Alderweireld, Siem de Jong, and Eriksen still looked remotely focused.
On the sideline, de Boer gritted his teeth.
"Here we go again."
This made it five straight gas that Ajax had conceded first against Real Madrid in the group stage.
Didn't matter if they tried high pressing or low blocks. Real Madrid always ca out on top.
They were just too much.
Madrid fans? They were loving it.
The opponent? Familiar.
The tempo? Familiar.
This slled like another big win in the making.
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