"Whenever we press, try to force the ball toward their left—make Serginho their only option."
Taking advantage of a brief pause in the game, Yang Yang pulled Charles Charisteas, Pienaar, and Sneijder aside near the halfway line, quickly laying out what he had observed.
"You think Serginho's the weak link?" Sneijder's eyes gleamed with understanding.
Yang Yang nodded. "He holds onto the ball too long before releasing it. That's where we can get him."
It wasn't exactly a shocking revelation. If anything, it was a trait long associated with many Brazilian players—particularly those with a background as attacking wingers. A flair for dribbling, an instinct to dazzle, but often at the cost of quick decision-making.
Serginho was no exception.
Originally a natural winger throughout his career, Serginho had only recently been repurposed by Ancelotti into a left-back. And now, at 34 years old, the transition wasn't exactly smooth. His instincts still leaned toward taking an extra touch, looking for a dribble, or stepping into space that no longer existed at fullback.
It wasn't entirely his fault.
In truth, it reflected the broader crisis within AC Milan's squad.
The Rossoneri were navigating the twilight years of a golden generation, and Silvio Berlusconi had made it clear—he would no longer inject the kind of capital Milan once enjoyed. The club had little choice but to retool from within.
That meant tactical experiments. Positional conversions. And reliance on veterans.
Serginho wasn't the only one exposed by this shift.
On the opposite flank was an even more telling example: Alessandro Costacurta, 39 years old and still logging minutes in the Champions League quarter-finals. A testament to his intelligence and positional sense, sure, but also a sign of how Milan were patching holes.
Yang Yang wasn't pointing fingers. He wasn't disrespecting them. But as a forward, he saw the cracks.
He had been studying Serginho since before the match began—during team video analysis, during warm-ups, and throughout the first half. And now, midway through a game where Ajax had barely touched the ball in meaningful areas, he was sure of one thing:
This was where they had to strike.
The players gathered around him nodded firmly. In the Ajax dressing room, Yang Yang had already earned their trust—not just because of his goals, but because of his instincts. When he spoke, they listened.
"Alright," said Pienaar. "We'll shift the pressure to that side."
"I'll guide the press angle," added Charisteas. "Force them to play it wide left."
Sneijder gave a sharp nod. "Once it gets there, it's your moment."
They all understood the principle. Every player has a preferred passing angle. When pressured correctly, they tend to offload toward their comfort zone or the path of least resistance. That meant if Ajax's press shaded toward Milan's right side, it would naturally funnel the ball left—toward Serginho.
And Serginho, with his tendency to dally, was precisely the trap.
Yang Yang looked at them one by one, his jaw set.
"As soon as it hits his feet," he said, "if the timing's right—I'll take it off him."
In recent years, most headlines had focused on Yang Yang's goals, his acceleration, his lethal finishing. But what often went overlooked was his relentless running and tactical pressing—especially in the opposition's half.
...
...
With Ajax retreating deeper into their own half, AC Milan gradually seized control of the match's tempo.
From his position at left-back, Serginho began assuming greater responsibility in the team's buildup play. According to the tactical arrangements set by Ancelotti's coaching staff, whenever Serginho pushed forward, Kaladze would shift slightly left to cover behind him, while Jaap Stam tucked inside from the right to form a makeshift back three. This structural adjustment had improved Milan's defensive solidity over recent matches.
With Milan dictating possession and rhythm, Serginho saw more and more of the ball down the left flank.
But suddenly, Ajax sparked a rare transition.
After a loose ball was recovered deep in the defensive third, Vermaelen sent a booming diagonal pass upfield, aimed behind Milan's high line. The ball forced Nesta into a desperate recovery run, and the Italian defender scrambled back to poke the ball safely to Dida.
The Brazilian keeper calmly controlled it with his right foot, then shifted play out to Kaladze, who quickly relayed it toward Serginho on the left.
Yang Yang, watching the sequence unfold, didn't press immediately. Instead, he held his position, subtly baiting Milan to commit.
Serginho, as expected, drove forward again along the left channel. Under token pressure from Yang Yang, he passed inside to Pirlo. The Italian maestro kept things moving quickly, shifting it to Kaka, who then found Seedorf near the halfway line. With Ajax holding shape and denying progressive options, the Dutchman chose the safe route—passing it back to Serginho once more.
But this time, everything changed.
Serginho misjudged the weight of the return pass. The touch was heavy, the angle awkward—and Yang Yang, who had been quietly waiting for precisely this moment, pounced.
He exploded forward.
Serginho froze.
Faced with a charging attacker, his instincts betrayed him. Instead of clearing his lines or recycling possession to a nearby teammate, he tried to bring the ball under control—exactly as Yang Yang had anticipated.
It was the classic difference in mindset: an attacker-turned-defender relying on muscle memory, not defensive pragmatism.
Yang Yang closed the gap in a flash, using his strength and low center of gravity to body Serginho off the ball. The 34-year-old Brazilian, once known for his pace and flair, now found himself outmatched physically and caught flat-footed.
Serginho stumbled—first sideways, then back—and Yang Yang cleanly stripped the ball from his feet.
A roar erupted from the San Siro stands.
But Yang Yang wasn't listening.
He had already sprinted past the flailing full-back, legs pumping like pistons, chasing the loose ball with a predator's hunger.
"Ajax win the ball high up the pitch!"
"Yang Yang is through on the left! What a burst of pace!"
"This is chaos for AC Milan!"
Pirlo, closest to the scene, turned and tried to recover—but Yang Yang had already separated from him. Kaladze, who had drifted over in support, recognized the danger immediately. He pushed forward to close down the space.
But Yang Yang had seen it all unfold before it happened.
Using his God Vision, he registered every defensive angle and closing lane. Pirlo and Serginho were already dust. Kaladze was the last line before goal.
Yang Yang intentionally exaggerated his touch, inviting Kaladze to step in—baiting the trap.
The Georgian took it.
He lunged forward—but in that split-second, Yang Yang accelerated again. Not just fast—blindingly fast. Kaladze had barely shifted his weight when Yang Yang poked the ball through the narrowest corridor between his legs.
The ball rolled cleanly through.
Yang Yang followed in stride.
Kaladze collapsed awkwardly, sprawling onto the San Siro turf, his head snapping toward the goal as Yang Yang raced ahead.
"INCREDIBLE! Yang Yang just glided past Kaladze!"
"He's completely shredded the left side of AC Milan's defense!"
"Now it's one-on-one!"
...
The entire San Siro erupted with a collective gasp.
From the moment Yang Yang intercepted Serginho's pass, AC Milan's goalkeeper Dida had already begun to shift his positioning to the left, anticipating a dangerous break. When Kaladze lunged and was beaten, and the ball slipped forward into space, Dida immediately abandoned his line.
He moved decisively, sprinting toward the ball with arms spread wide, hoping to close the angle before Yang Yang could reach it. It was a textbook decision — not reckless, but necessary. With Kaladze already out of the play and both Nesta and Stam still recovering, Dida was the last barrier between Yang Yang and the goal.
Despite the urgency, the Brazilian goalkeeper remained composed. His eyes were fixed on Yang Yang, trying to read any sign of intention. He knew Yang Yang's reputation, particularly his ability to shoot powerfully with his left foot, so he began to anticipate the obvious: a cut to the inside followed by a low shot across goal.
Yang Yang knew this as well. He also knew he would only have one chance.
There was no time for tricks or hesitation. Italy's defensive lines were tight and recovering fast. Within seconds, the window of opportunity would close. As he neared the ball, he feinted as if to shift it with his right foot to set up a left-footed strike.
Dida took the bait.
He shifted slightly to his right, preparing to cover the far corner — the most likely target for a left-footed finish.
But Yang Yang delayed his move by a split second. Just as Dida committed, Yang Yang calmly used the outside of his right foot to push the ball to the goalkeeper's left side. The finish was clean and fast, sliding past Dida just out of reach and skimming the inside of the post before crossing the line.
Stam arrived a moment too late, sliding into the net behind the ball in a futile attempt to block it.
Ajax had scored.
The scoreboard changed: 25th minute – AC Milan 0, Ajax 1.
A roar erupted from the small away section. The Ajax supporters, tucked into a corner of the stadium, stood up in unison, their cheers echoing in sharp contrast to the stunned silence that had fallen over the majority of San Siro.
Yang Yang didn't hesitate. He sprinted toward the corner where the Ajax fans were gathered, sliding on his knees across the grass, arms lifted.
The rest of the team caught up, surrounding him in celebration.
Commentators immediately picked apart the sequence.
"A critical error from Serginho, punished in full by Yang Yang. This is exactly what Koeman had hoped for when targeting Milan's left side."
"Kaladze's recovery was too slow, and Dida's read was just slightly off — but that's all Yang Yang needed."
"It's a moment of quality, but also one of awareness. Yang Yang wasn't just fast, he made the right decisions at the right moments."
On the pitch, Yang Yang quickly shifted his focus.
"Stay alert!" he shouted to his teammates. "Don't relax — defend the lead!"
He gestured for the midfield to drop, urging discipline and focus as the game resumed.
On the other side, the mood shifted.
Dida returned to his position quietly. Nesta and Stam exchanged a few tense words. Ancelotti remained expressionless on the touchline, but it was clear the goal had unsettled Milan.
...
...
Yang Yang's goal seemed to jolt Ajax back into focus — but it also had the opposite effect on AC Milan.
Falling behind at home, even briefly, appeared to enrage the hosts. From the restart, their urgency intensified. The tempo picked up, the movement sharpened, and the weight of their European pedigree began to show.
Just four minutes after conceding, AC Milan found the equalizer.
Seedorf, who had been pulling strings in midfield, threaded a precise through ball from central space. Shevchenko latched onto it near the edge of the area and, with the outside of his right boot, clipped a perfectly weighted pass toward the far post.
Gilardino, drifting between the Ajax centre-backs, timed his run expertly and rose in the six-yard box to nod the ball past Stekelenburg. The finish was simple, but the move was fluid, quick, and devastating.
1–1, and San Siro erupted.
The goal sent a clear signal: Milan had no intention of allowing Ajax any momentum.
Their attacks became more cohesive, and the pressure on Ajax's back line mounted with every passing minute. The right side of Ajax's defense — Maicon and Heitinga's zone — was particularly exposed.
In the 35th minute, another incisive sequence began with Seedorf, who once again dictated the flow from the left. He released Shevchenko into the channel with a clever through ball. As the Ukrainian advanced into the area and squared up Heitinga, he suddenly went to ground.
The Ajax centre-back immediately protested, claiming simulation. The referee, unmoved, waved play on but declined to caution Shevchenko for diving.
Replays suggested there was minimal, if any, contact — a light brush at best. It was a warning for Ajax that Milan weren't just threatening through their play, but also testing the referee's tolerance.
Less than sixty seconds later, Milan struck again.
A swift exchange between Seedorf and Shevchenko along the left freed space for Kaka, who had drifted centrally. The Brazilian received the ball just outside the box, shifted it onto his right foot, and fired low past Stekelenburg into the far corner.
2–1. The comeback was complete.
Kaka peeled away in celebration, pointing skyward in his trademark manner. The San Siro crowd, already fired up, roared in approval.
But Milan weren't done.
In the 41st minute, they broke Ajax apart once more — again down the left flank. Seedorf, relentless and influential, played a ball in behind Maicon for Kaka to chase. The Brazilian reached the byline and pulled it back across the face of goal.
Shevchenko arrived unmarked and slotted home with composure.
3–1.
In just over ten minutes, AC Milan had scored three goals — each orchestrated from their dominant left side — and turned the match on its head.
San Siro was in full voice now. Red and black scarves waved across the terraces. The earlier anxiety had turned into celebration.
For Ajax, it was a brutal lesson.
The first half had started promisingly. Even when Milan controlled possession, Ajax had defended with shape and discipline. But once the dam broke, there was no stopping the flood.
Every one of Milan's goals had come from their left. Serginho, Seedorf, and Kaka had exploited space time and again. On the opposite end, Ajax's right side simply couldn't cope.
By halftime, the match looked like a reminder of Milan's pedigree — and why they were Champions League finalists the year before.
Ajax had scored first, but Milan responded like a team that had been there many times before.
...
...
From leading 1–0 to trailing 1–3, all within the space of twenty minutes — Ajax had plummeted from euphoria to despair.
When the players returned to the dressing room at half-time, their expressions told the story. Slouched shoulders, hollow gazes, hands on hips — the mood was grim. And understandably so. No one swallows such a collapse lightly.
Yang Yang felt it too.
This was the first time he genuinely sensed that Ajax might not be able to go further in this year's Champions League. The gulf in class was plain to see — in structure, execution, and personnel.
Across the pitch, Ajax were struggling to match Milan's individual quality and collective cohesion.
The back line had underperformed, particularly in central defense. Heitinga had endured a nightmare half, repeatedly exposed by Shevchenko's movement and Gilardino's physicality. Vermaelen, still young and slightly undersized, lacked aerial dominance and had struggled to track runners in tight spaces.
And up front, Ajax failed to provide sufficient offensive threat.
Pienaar on the left had been largely ineffective, unable to stretch the Milan back line or draw defenders away from the right. Without adequate pressure from that side, Milan began reinforcing their right flank defensively after conceding the first goal, nullifying Yang Yang's influence.
It became suffocating. Milan had shut Ajax down in every channel.
But Yang Yang wasn't about to blame his teammates.
He knew what it felt like to be isolated in the final third, and he also understood that everyone out there had given what they could — some were out of form, others simply overmatched. That's football.
There was a time, not long ago, when he had teammates like Ibrahimović and Van der Vaart to share the burden in attack. Even Wesley Sonck, while not prolific, ran the channels well and created space with his movement.
Now, it was just him.
At nineteen, he carried not just the team's attacking hopes, but the armband as well.
But he had chosen this path. Staying at Ajax had been a conscious decision — a personal challenge. And there was no better stage to prove himself than this one.
The youngest captain in Champions League history, leading a young Ajax side into the lion's den at San Siro. Regardless of what came next, he had already exceeded expectations. The hat-trick at the Bernabéu was still fresh in everyone's minds. His legacy was growing.
Still, the match wasn't over. And morale had to be rebuilt.
He stood up and faced the squad.
"Lift your heads," Yang Yang said firmly. "We're not finished."
His voice carried across the room, sharp and clear.
"We've got an away goal. That's huge. Two goals down is not the end of the world. But from now on, we can't give anything away."
Sneijder stood up beside him and nodded. "Yang's right. We have to lock things down at the back first. That's the priority."
Heitinga looked sheepish but spoke up as well. "I haven't played my best half — I know that. But I'll adjust. I'll give everything I have in the second half."
Yang Yang turned to him and patted him on the shoulder. "None of us has the right to point fingers. We defend as a unit. We lost three goals as a team."
It was a mark of his growing maturity. He understood leadership wasn't about scoring or wearing the armband. It was about setting the tone.
No one would be scapegoated.
There would be no immediate substitutions either. Ronald Koeman was deliberate with his changes — pulling a player at half-time would risk throwing them under the bus.
Koeman walked into the dressing room moments later, having overheard the final exchanges. He nodded in agreement with Yang Yang's message.
"We're not out of this," the coach said calmly. "And don't forget — statistically, Milan struggle in the second half."
That caught the players' attention.
The coaching staff had done their homework. In Serie A this season, Milan were among the most dominant first-half teams — leading in goals scored and fewest conceded before the break. But their second-half numbers told a different story. They had dropped points late in matches, often due to lapses in concentration and fatigue.
Third-best in second-half rankings. Ten goals conceded, nine draws.
In contrast, Juventus had been consistent from start to finish. Inter had even improved after half-time. But Milan faded.
"Fitness is their weakness," Koeman emphasized. "They start strong, but they don't always finish well."
That flicker of belief returned to the eyes of Ajax's players.
But belief alone wasn't enough. They needed adjustments.
Koeman turned to tactics.
"Milan want to funnel the ball into the box. They look for central overloads — short combinations into shooting zones. Shevchenko, Kaka, Gilardino — they all thrive in tight areas."
"Our back line needs to stay compact. No space between lines. Hold the top of the penalty area."
He then addressed the other pressing issue: width — or lack thereof.
"We need more pressure on the left. Pienaar, you need to stay active. Get at Gattuso, force mistakes, make them shift wide. That'll relieve pressure on the right and open up channels for Yang."
Pienaar nodded silently. He knew he hadn't done enough.
Koeman looked around the room.
"This isn't over. But it's going to take every one of you."
Yang Yang stepped in again to deliver the final word.
"This is a war of attrition. We're playing one of the best teams in Europe. We're down, yes — but not broken. The longer we hold, the more pressure they'll feel. Stay together. Stay sharp."
He paused, scanning each face in the room.
"And when the chance comes — take it."
...
...
After switching sides for the second half, Ajax returned to the pitch with a noticeably more disciplined and compact defensive strategy.
The instruction was clear: hold the line, deny central space, and frustrate Milan's rhythm.
Yet even with the tighter shape, AC Milan nearly found an opening within four minutes of the restart.
Once again, it came from the flanks — their preferred route of attack.
This time it was Seedorf who clipped a teasing cross from the left. Gilardino rose in the six-yard box, unmarked, and directed a firm header across goal. For a moment, it seemed destined for the far post, but the ball curled wide by a fraction.
Another warning.
The Italian striker had already seen multiple chances with his head in this game. Had his finishing been sharper, Ajax might well have been punished even more severely. Milan had consistently exploited Ajax's lack of aerial dominance in central defense, particularly targeting the space between Heitinga and Vermaelen.
Despite the scare, Ajax remained committed to their revised shape — sitting deeper, narrowing their lines, and challenging Milan to break them down through sheer creativity.
Milan continued to dominate possession, patiently recycling the ball and pushing numbers forward, but with Ajax retreating in numbers, the gaps they exploited in the first half were now closing.
The Dutch side had clearly adjusted.
Milan's passing began to slow. They still worked the ball through Kaka and Pirlo, still switched the point of attack from left to right, but their urgency had dimmed. A 3–1 lead does that — even to great teams. They knew the next goal would kill the tie; they also knew a mistake could let Ajax back in.
Their most dangerous moment of the second half thus far came in the 54th minute.
Kaka, always hovering in the half-spaces, received a clever layoff from Shevchenko just outside the penalty arc. He shifted the ball onto his right foot and let fly with a powerful effort — but the shot lacked venom.
Stekelenburg, alert and well-positioned, read it early and parried it cleanly to his left.
A brief sigh of relief swept through the Ajax bench.
Ronald Koeman, arms folded on the touchline, exhaled slowly. He had seen enough.
The second half had stabilized, yes. The bleeding had stopped. But unless Ajax found a way to regain some attacking foothold, they would simply be surviving — not competing.
It was time to make adjustments.
Koeman called over his assistant and began outlining the next phase of the plan.