San Siro was electric.
The buzz had begun hours before kickoff, but now, as night fell over Milan, the historic cathedral of calcio had become a cauldron. According to official figures, the match was completely sold out. Over 76,800 fans had crammed into the stands, most dressed in red and black, their chants echoing from the towering tiers of concrete.
Only a few hundred Ajax supporters had made the trip from Amsterdam. They were tucked away in the furthest corner of the stadium, barely visible against the sea of Rossoneri. That was the norm in the Champions League—away fans exiled to the shadows, isolated and outnumbered.
When the Ajax team bus pulled up to the San Siro, the welcome was far from warm.
A cascade of jeers and whistles rained down, deafening and merciless. Flares lit up behind metal barricades, while chants reverberated through the concrete archways. It was a calculated assault of sound meant to shake the nerves of the visitors.
But this was not Ajax's first storm.
Yang Yang stood at the back of the team line, watching the scene with calm detachment as he ushered each of his teammates into the players' tunnel.
"Don't be nervous," he said, his voice level and commanding. "The louder their boos, the more afraid they are of us."
As team captain, his words carried weight.
Inside the locker room, the squad settled quickly. There was no time for gawking, no time to soak in the occasion. Everyone knew the importance of what was coming.
Yang Yang took the lead once again, urging the team to remain focused. After changing, they headed straight onto the pitch for the final warm-up.
San Siro looked like a gladiator's arena.
The grandstands were now entirely full, a towering mass of roaring fans waving banners and scarves, belting out club anthems in perfect chorus. Smoke curled from the ultras' section behind Dida's goal, adding to the surreal, almost war-like atmosphere.
But unlike the Bernabéu, where the crowd exuded a cool, aristocratic menace, the fans here were feral. The insults hurled toward the Ajax players were unrelenting, laced with venom. San Siro wasn't just intimidating—it was hostile.
The Italian ultras, notorious for their fanaticism, made sure Ajax felt it in every step they took.
As Yang Yang jogged along the sideline, he was approached by a familiar face—Andriy Shevchenko.
The Ukrainian striker, now captain with Maldini recently returned but not starting, extended a hand with a grin.
"Yang, welcome to San Siro," Shevchenko said in accented English.
"Thank you," Yang Yang replied, accepting the handshake.
"You've been magnificent this season," Sheva added with a nod, "but tonight, it won't be easy to score again. Not here."
Yang Yang met the challenge with a half-smile. "You too. But I have confidence. In myself, and in my team."
"That's good," Shevchenko chuckled. "Let's see how the night unfolds."
"Absolutely."
After the exchange, the AC Milan striker turned and jogged back toward his side's warm-up area.
Yang Yang remained where he was for a moment, scanning the field.
From a distance, he spotted Kaka stretching, then straightening and waving to him. The Brazilian's demeanor was relaxed, but Yang Yang could sense the confidence radiating from Milan's ranks.
They were a team that knew what it meant to win. A team built on legacy, on silverware, on enduring European power.
Ajax, for all its history and romanticism, had become a springboard—a proving ground for talents like him. They had made it this far, but now they were standing at the gates of football's upper echelon.
...
...
After wrapping up the final pre-match warm-up under the towering lights of San Siro, the Ajax squad returned to the away locker room, the air tense with anticipation. Shortly after settling in, news came in—AC Milan's official lineup had been released.
In goal: Dida.
A back four of Serginho on the left, Kaladze and Nesta forming the central defensive partnership, and Jaap Stam deployed at right-back.
In midfield, Ancelotti had opted for the familiar narrow diamond setup. Andrea Pirlo would operate at the base as the deep-lying playmaker, Clarence Seedorf stationed on the left of the midfield, with Gennaro Gattuso providing steel on the right. At the tip of the diamond sat Kaka, their most creative force.
Up front, the strike partnership was exactly what Ronald Koeman had predicted—Andriy Shevchenko alongside Alberto Gilardino.
There were no surprises. Even the inclusion of Gilardino had been anticipated. This wasn't a game where Ancelotti would experiment—this was war, and the Italian manager had armed himself accordingly.
It was a clear signal from Milan: they were preparing for a physically intense contest. And more importantly, they were determined to seize control early.
Ronald Koeman stood in front of his players, his expression sharp, focused.
"As I said before," the Ajax manager began, voice clear above the shuffle of jerseys and the hum of tension, "we strike first."
He stepped closer, locking eyes with his squad.
"The first ten minutes—we go all in."
"If there's an opening, take it. If there's a chance to score, don't hesitate. But if it doesn't come—don't force it. We fall back and reshape."
The locker room was silent now, all ears on Koeman.
"We do not give AC Milan any free momentum. Especially not after losing possession."
...
...
While Ronald Koeman was giving his final instructions in the Ajax dressing room, across the corridor at San Siro, Carlo Ancelotti and his staff had just received the official Ajax lineup.
No surprises.
In goal: Maarten Stekelenburg.
The back four: Maxwell on the left, Vermaelen and Heitinga at center-back, and Maicon on the right.
In midfield: Nigel de Jong as the anchor, with Yaya Touré and Wesley Sneijder positioned slightly ahead of him.
And upfront, a dynamic trident: Pienaar on the left, Charisteas centrally, and Yang Yang cutting in from the right.
Ancelotti stood before a whiteboard with magnetic pieces laid out in red and blue, his brow slightly furrowed as he studied the setup.
"Ajax are a very tricky side to face," he began calmly. "Yang Yang, in particular, is in lethal form. His dribbling off the flank and ability to cut inside—especially from the right—is their most potent weapon."
He tapped the red magnet representing Yang Yang with his index finger.
"He's quick, fearless, and his finishing this season speaks for itself. Whether he drifts into the left channel or the right half-space, we must stay switched on. He doesn't need many chances—just one is enough."
The room was quiet, the weight of the fixture heavy in the air.
Ancelotti knew the vulnerabilities of his own side as well as he knew their strengths. The defensive flanks—especially with Serginho on the left and Stam on the right—were known pressure points, particularly against pace.
"But we only have one Gattuso," Ancelotti added with a small sigh, turning to the board again. "If we deploy him on the right to support Stam against Yang Yang, we risk exposing Serginho. If we move him left, Maicon will overload that side with his surging runs."
It was a tactical trade-off with no perfect answer. A balancing act that had to be managed in real time.
"If I had to guess," he continued, "Koeman's going to go aggressive early. They'll press us high from the opening whistle—try to rattle us, maybe even score early."
That earned nods from several in the room. It was classic Ajax: vertical pressure, quick tempo, all-in mentality from kickoff.
"They're not going to sit back and invite pressure. They don't have the physicality in defense to play a low block here. Especially not at San Siro."
He looked across the group.
"Let them come," Ancelotti said coolly. "Let them press."
"And then... we strike back."
...
...
With the sharp blast of the referee's whistle, one of the most anticipated clashes in this year's Champions League was officially underway.
Ajax took the kick-off and, true to their pre-match plan, surged forward with high pressing and intense tempo. Just as Carlo Ancelotti had predicted, Ronald Koeman's side intended to hit fast, hoping to unsettle AC Milan in the opening minutes.
But Milan had come prepared.
The Rossoneri retreated methodically into their half, keeping their defensive shape compact. Calm in possession and unfazed by the early pressure, they allowed Ajax to push forward before slowly building their rhythm through short passes and midfield control.
Within just two minutes, the first real warning came—not from Ajax, but from Milan.
Seedorf received the ball around 20 yards from goal, created half a yard with a subtle feint, and unleashed a powerful shot toward the right-hand side. The ball dipped late, but it rose over the crossbar. It came from a clever layoff by Kaka, who had already begun weaving through Ajax's midfield lines.
Yang Yang watched the sequence unfold and immediately sensed something was off. This was not how Ajax had envisioned the match playing out. The tempo wasn't theirs. Milan weren't flustered. They were luring Ajax into a false rhythm—absorbing pressure, then striking like a coiled serpent.
Indeed, Ajax had pressed. But they hadn't attacked. They were chasing shadows.
And Milan? They were starting to bite.
Moments after Seedorf's effort, Gattuso pounced on a loose ball and quickly released Kaka near the top of the penalty area. The Brazilian playmaker, gliding past de Jong with ease, threaded a brilliant through ball into the box. Shevchenko peeled away from Vermaelen and took a first-time shot from just seven meters out.
The effort slid narrowly wide of the far post, but it left the entire Ajax bench holding their breath.
Yang Yang shook his head in frustration, signaling to the touchline. Ronald Koeman picked up on it immediately. His team was caught between the lines—neither fully pressing nor effectively sitting back. It was dangerous.
Koeman gestured furiously, barking instructions to adjust shape.
Ajax swiftly abandoned the full-throttle pressing game and transitioned into a more cautious defensive structure, dropping deeper to close space and prevent Milan's vertical penetrations.
But the home side wasn't about to ease up.
Sensing weakness, AC Milan pushed forward with purpose.
Pirlo, sitting deep in the regista role, picked out Gilardino with a delicate chip over the top. The Italian striker rose above Heitinga and sent a strong header toward goal. Stekelenburg parried the ball unconvincingly into the center of the box.
Before Ajax could clear, Seedorf arrived late on the edge and volleyed—only to be denied brilliantly by Maicon, who tracked him all the way and threw himself into the path of the shot. The Brazilian's last-ditch challenge forced Seedorf to scuff the ball wide.
San Siro erupted with noise. Ajax were hanging on.
The plan to score early had backfired. Instead of creating chaos in Milan's defense, Ajax had opened themselves to wave after wave of counterattacks. The midfield trio—Yaya Touré, de Jong, and Sneijder—were all pinned deep, forced into emergency defensive duties. As a result, Ajax had no link between defense and attack.
Their first real attempt didn't come until the 18th minute.
Yang Yang picked up the ball wide on the right and drove past Serginho with his usual electric pace. But lacking support, and forced to the byline, he managed only to cannon the ball off Serginho's shin for a corner.
Sneijder's delivery was precise. Yaya Touré climbed highest, directing a firm header toward the far post—but Dida, ever composed, extended a strong right hand to tip it over.
It was Ajax's only bright moment of the opening spell.
Milan responded instantly.
Just two minutes later, Kaka cut in from the right and darted into the box. Vermaelen lunged and managed to block his low drive, but Ajax were under siege.
Barely a minute passed before Milan came again.
Pirlo, with time and vision, dropped another exquisite ball into the area. Gilardino, bullying Heitinga once more, got to the end of it. He aimed for the far corner with a glancing header, but mistimed it slightly—the ball whisked across the face of goal and missed the target by inches.
The pressure was relentless.
Milan were dictating everything: tempo, territory, and rhythm. Gilardino was overpowering the Ajax center-backs. Shevchenko's movement was intelligent and tireless. Kaka was ghosting through spaces between midfield and defense.
Twenty minutes gone, and Ajax had managed just one shot on target.
It was not the start they had hoped for. Not at all.
...
...
Yang Yang was an attacking player, and as such, he understood the defensive strain his teammates were under—but he could do nothing to help.
Before the match, Ronald Koeman had given him very specific instructions: everyone else could drop back to defend, but he could not.
"You're our only spark up front," Koeman had said. "If you fall back, there'll be nothing left to threaten them. Milan will crush us without even blinking."
And so Yang Yang remained forward, hovering near the halfway line like a lone sentinel. His presence alone kept AC Milan's backline honest, forcing them to consider the danger of a sudden counterattack. But he was isolated.
From his vantage point high up the pitch, he could see the weaknesses in Milan's structure. The left flank was clearly the soft spot. Serginho lacked defensive sharpness, and Seedorf, naturally inclined to attack, offered little cover. At times, it was just Pirlo drifting over to help—and Pirlo was no tackler.
The space was there. The opportunities could come.
But only if Ajax could win the ball.
And right now, they couldn't.
It was like chasing ghosts. Milan were too calm, too composed in possession. Every attempt by Ajax to press or intercept was absorbed and redirected. Even the smallest lapse in positioning was punished with quick one-touch passing and a sudden shift in play.
Yang Yang gritted his teeth on the touchline, scanning the field. The ball just wouldn't come.
What good were the gaps in Milan's defense if he never got the chance to attack them?
He could feel it—like a storm building. Milan had complete control, and the goal felt inevitable. In truth, the only reason the score was still 0–0 was due to their own wastefulness. If even one of their chances had been converted, Ajax would already be trailing.
And if things continued like this, the goal would come.
It was just a matter of time.
This wasn't sustainable. Not for another 70 minutes.
Something has to change, Yang Yang thought, his brow furrowing with frustration.
As the spearhead of the team's attack, his job wasn't to defend—it was to think of ways to score. His mind raced through possibilities. If they could just win the ball and get it out to him quickly, he could target that left channel. Serginho couldn't stop him one-on-one, and if Pirlo had to cover, it would pull Milan's midfield out of shape.
He didn't need ten chances.
He just needed one good ball. One clean break.
But how do I get that ball…?