"Rui Costa and Ambrosini, go warm up!"
Ancelotti said, "We'll make some changes in the second half—substitutions at the 55th minute!"
"Suker!" Ancelotti turned and shouted, "After the change, move up to the center-forward position!"
Suker's eyes lit up, and he immediately replied, "Got it!"
On the pitch, commentator Aldo Serena was analyzing the situation.
"For Milan, they must disrupt the midfield more. They can't let Arsenal pass comfortably. At the same time, they need to make more use of counterattacks! Especially utilizing Pirlo's long passing ability to find Kaka and Suker up front—that's a very effective strategy!"
In the stands, Justin was wearing Suker's jersey, wildly waving his arms among a sea of fans.
He had initially gotten into football because of Rowling.
But now, he had become a true Milan supporter—or more accurately, a die-hard Suker fan.
The chubby boy dreamed of becoming a hero like Suker one day!
"Suker! Suker! Suker!"
Justin waved his arms with all his might.
Even though he was sweating profusely, he continued shouting at the top of his lungs.
At that moment, cheers erupted from the players' tunnel.
Justin quickly turned around, his whole body jiggling as he rushed over.
He climbed onto a barrier and happened to see both teams walking onto the pitch.
Just in time—Suker emerged from the tunnel.
"Suker!!!"
Justin yelled with all his strength.
"Let's go!!!!——"
"Score one! Crush those Londoners!!"
"Suker!! You're the best!! Go!! Score one!!"
The chubby boy was shouting fanatically.
Hanging onto the railing, he stretched his hand out desperately.
"Suker!" the boy shouted, "High five!"
Suker slightly looked up, a faint smile on his face, and slowly raised his right hand—smacking it down with force.
Smack!!!
The high five was loud and heavy.
Justin's palm burned with pain.
But even more overwhelming was the surge of excitement in his heart.
Roaaaarrrrrrrrrrrr!!!
The stadium erupted in a frenzy.
Both teams had entered the field and lined up on opposite sides.
Milan kicked off the second half.
Suker took deep breaths, adjusting himself into peak condition.
Fabregas had his eyes locked onto Suker.
He knew exactly what his mission was this game—stop Suker.
This was his shot at revenge.
While the first half wasn't exceptional, they had stabilized the match.
But the key lay in the second half.
Fabregas was full of fire.
Tweet!!!
The whistle blew.
The second half began.
Right at kickoff, when Kaka passed the ball to Shevchenko, he slipped—losing possession.
Damn!
Suker immediately sprinted back to defend.
After a long and grueling season, Shevchenko's stamina had taken a hit.
He used to last the full 90 minutes, but now, after 60 minutes of high-intensity play, he was gassed.
The ball was at Fabregas's feet, and he quickly pushed forward.
All the while, he was scanning the pitch for shape and formation changes.
Pires moved wide, opening space in the middle for Fabregas to exploit.
Suddenly—an unexpected lateral pass.
Fabregas turned side-on, ran onto the ball, then with a small touch and a clever drag with the inside of his right foot, he slid the ball behind his standing leg.
All attention was on Fabregas—meanwhile, Henry burst forward with explosive acceleration.
"Henry!! Making the run!!"
The English commentator roared.
Henry diagonally cut in, faking toward the near post.
The ball squeezed under Dida's armpit and into the net.
46th minute—right at the start of the second half, AC Milan conceded.
The Milan players exchanged blank stares—they hadn't expected such a sudden blow.
The San Siro fell eerily silent.
Henry didn't celebrate much—instead, he quickly retreated.
After all, they still needed two more goals to advance.
Suker sighed lightly.
Fabregas…
You could call him traitor to Arsenal or criticize his character—but you can't question his skill.
This guy had already become a top midfielder—and he'd only grow stronger.
Wenger pumped his fist furiously.
He let out a long breath.
Finally, Milan's defense had been shaken.
Strictly speaking, though, it wasn't really broken down.
Milan just let their guard down.
"Paolo, go warm up!"
Ancelotti called out.
Originally, he'd planned to send in two midfielders to stabilize the game.
But now, he needed someone who could impose order on the pitch.
Maldini was the obvious choice.
Watching Maldini warm up, Rui Costa and Ambrosini exchanged wry smiles.
They knew one of them wouldn't get to play.
After Arsenal's goal, they launched into even more intense attacks.
Shevchenko and Pirlo were struggling to run—Milan's high press was no longer effective.
They had to fall back and defend.
Finally, the 60th minute arrived.
During a stoppage, Ancelotti made his move.
Shevchenko and Jankulovski came off.
Ambrosini and Maldini came on.
Arsenal adjusted formation.
Suk moved up to the center-forward position.
Seedorf played attacking midfield, and Ambrosini filled in the midfield slot.
Watching Suker walk toward the forward line, Wenger shook his head.
Even now, he firmly believed Suker was meant to be a midfielder.
A top-class midfielder, no less.
To see him shift to striker felt like a waste of talent to the talent-loving Wenger.
Still, it wasn't his player to mold.
More importantly, with Shevchenko off, Milan's striking power was significantly reduced.
Just as this thought crossed his mind—the match flipped.
Suker suddenly sprinted, combining with a through ball from Kaka, cutting diagonally toward the wing.
Arsenal's backline couldn't keep up.
Kaka surged down the middle, and Seedorf also crashed forward.
With the ball at his feet on the wing, and no passing option, Suker chose to go it alone.
He shifted the ball laterally and dropped his shoulder.
Stomping with his right foot repeatedly, he feinted a dash toward the baseline.
First time—Ashley Cole held his ground.
Second time—he bit.
Whoosh!!
Seizing the opportunity, Suker cut inside, creating a shooting lane with his left foot and fired toward the near post.
He aimed to squeeze the ball between the keeper and the post.
But Arsenal's goalkeeper Lehmann was fully alert.
Diving low, he blocked the shot with his left leg and quickly pounced to secure the bouncing ball.
"Suker beat his man and fired!"
"But the angle was too tight. Arsenal keeper Lehmann safely grabs it!"
"Suker's first shot as a striker immediately put Arsenal on alert."
"Not just his dribbling—Suker's speed is also something Arsenal's defenders must watch closely!"
Suker didn't score this time, but he was pumped up.
Pointing forward, he shouted, "Again! Hit the space behind them!! Send it!"
Arsenal's defenders were under pressure.
Shevchenko was a pure shooter.
Defending him meant focusing on his finishing.
But Suker was different.
He could shoot, dribble, and pass.
His tactical flexibility and link-up play added chaos to Arsenal's defense.
Every time Suker had the ball, they had to guess—was he going to shoot or pass?
Kaka passed the ball to Suker.
With his back to goal, Suker held off Campbell.
Lowering his center of gravity, he gritted his teeth to hold the position—
Then laid the ball off to the side.
Seedorf took it and surged down the left channel.
"A wall pass—Suker held off the challenge and became Milan's forward wall!"
It wasn't the strongest wall, but Suker made the pass.
Seedorf whipped in a cross to the far post.
Kaka made a run but just missed the ball.
Arsenal's defenders quickly followed up and, under Milan's pressing, cleared the danger.
Five minutes later, Milan attacked again.
This time, Suker linked up with Pirlo.
Pirlo held the ball deep, scanning—
When he saw Suker making a move, he lofted it behind Campbell.
Suker took off.
Tweet!
The whistle blew—the assistant referee raised his flag for offside.
Suker protested.
But it was no use.
The referee stood by his decision.
"That was onside! Suker's speed just made it look like offside!"
Aldo Serena shouted indignantly.
Slow-motion replay showed that when Pirlo released the ball, Suk was not offside.
It was a brilliant timed run that got wrongly called.
But Milan didn't let their heads drop.
Their momentum was building.
Especially after Suker took over as center forward—Milan's tactics diversified.
Kaka and Seedorf became even more threatening.
Suker's off-the-ball runs were being fully utilized.
Wenger looked at the pitch in disbelief.
He hadn't expected Milan to evolve tactically with Suker at striker.
In fact, in some ways, Suker was more troublesome than Shevchenko.
"More pressure in midfield—we can't let them keep hitting us behind!"
Toure shouted.
He was clearly breathless—keeping up with Suker was proving incredibly difficult.
Worse still—he couldn't keep up.
If this continued, Suker would keep applying pressure relentlessly