Chapter 118: A Legendary Journey! Who Can Stop the Treble-Bound Champions?
Xia Qing sat in the stands of White Hart Lane alongside Bayswater China's senior staff.
They had declined Tottenham's official hospitality and instead chose to sit with the away fans.
When the final whistle blew, some fans in the away section actually started crying—and not just a few.
Those who followed the team on the road were mostly longtime supporters—people who had stood by the club through years of struggle.
Now, with a shot at the title slipping away, the pain was overwhelming.
Xia Qing looked up toward the distant away dugout.
Tottenham had seated them in a remote corner of the stadium, far from the team bench.
But from her perspective, Yang Cheng stood alone in the technical area, like a general fighting alone on the battlefield.
They had lost—but he still held his head high with pride.
Xia Qing didn't know why, but the sound of fans sobbing around her filled her with a sudden sorrow.
She had to fight back tears.
He was struggling so hard.
"It's fine. If we lose this season, we'll come back next year," Adam Crozier said, eyes slightly red.
He had poured his heart into this club.
To come this close to winning the league, only to lose it at the final hurdle—it was gut-wrenching.
"To be honest, we might've been a bit too optimistic," Omar Berrada sighed.
Crozier nodded. Wasn't that the truth?
A team that had only been in the Premier League for two seasons, trying to go toe-to-toe with the league's elite?
And with such a young squad—was it really possible?
Worse still, their schedule had been brutal, with all the big games packed together.
"The PR team needs to get to work—try to contain the backlash, especially from those damn tabloids. They'll be out for blood," Crozier said to Berrada.
"I'll take care of it."
"It's fine. We lost this season—we'll come back stronger next year," Crozier muttered, exhaling deeply.
But when he turned and saw Xia Qing—then followed her gaze toward Yang Cheng—he couldn't help but sigh again.
Xia Qing, deep in thought, was wondering what she could do to help Yang Cheng.
...
If Yang Cheng knew what was going through their heads right now, he would've laughed.
So much drama.
He wasn't devastated at all, okay?
It was only Matchweek 31—seven games left. So what if they'd lost the top spot?
Who said he was giving up?
Did people really think all those years of finishing second had been in vain?
Even if they did lose the title, he wouldn't let it mess with his head.
Let alone break him.
Right now, he was simply thinking: what next?
First and foremost—the media.
He could already imagine the headlines tomorrow—across the UK and all of Europe.
That's how they operate.
As soon as either Bayswater China or Manchester United lose, the press celebrates like it's a holiday—ripping them apart.
Clickbait pays the bills.
When that happens, Yang Cheng will become the main target.
They'll say he overreached—trying to win everything: the Champions League, the Premier League, the FA Cup.
They'll say he had no business fighting on all fronts and that the collapse was deserved.
But Yang Cheng wasn't going to explain anything.
What would be the point?
He had always fielded youth players in the FA and League Cups.
As for the Premier League and Champions League—yes, he wanted both.
What was wrong with that?
The media would demand he make "choices." Prioritize.
Great—how exactly was he supposed to "choose"?
When do you pull out? Before the Round of 16 in the Champions League?
Who plays that way?
If he had done that, it wouldn't be the media—his own players would've revolted.
Without real competition, how would they even know their limits?
What are limits?
They're what you discover only by pushing yourself to the brink.
Everyone talks about Ferguson's legendary 1999 treble.
But that was only legendary because they won.
Did Ferguson know ahead of time they'd pull off every comeback?
Hell no.
He gritted his teeth, went all-in, and pushed his team to the limit. That's how they got the treble.
Even in the final, Bayern dominated United—and still lost.
So much for "strength."
The media only ever speculates and criticizes.
They never play, so they'll never know.
Once you step onto the pitch, someone has to lose.
Does winning mean everything you did was right?
And losing means it was all wrong?
That's binary thinking.
Run a team like that, and you're doomed.
Yang Cheng knew he needed to shield his players, soften the blow of what the media would say in the coming hours.
If not, the next few matches might as well be forfeited.
He also knew Ferguson would take the opportunity to kick them while they were down.
And honestly? If Yang Cheng were in his shoes, he'd do the same.
As for taking the heat himself—Yang Cheng wasn't bothered.
He was thick-skinned and resilient.
So now, he stood outside the dressing room, rehearsing what he would say.
How to start, how to guide the emotional tone, how to steer the room.
It was more complicated than it looked.
No room for "tragic speeches."
Luckily, he had plenty of experience with this sort of thing in his previous life.
He knew what worked best.
...
When Yang Cheng stepped into the away dressing room at White Hart Lane, every single one of his players was sitting in silence.
No one was in the showers.
It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.
The staff and coaching team stood silently off to the side.
Even the usually busy massage therapists were standing still, uncertain of what to do.
The moment Yang Cheng pushed open the door, every player looked up.
Maybe it was instinct, maybe something deeper.
They just knew their coach had arrived.
And they all looked at him.
Some eyes were filled with guilt.
Some with fear.
Some with frustration.
Others were just… hollow.
But they all carried the same look of desperation.
A silent cry for help.
They didn't know how to deal with this.
Yang Cheng turned to Brian Kidd and the others, gave a nod and a hand gesture.
Kidd understood immediately and ushered everyone out.
Now, it was just Yang Cheng and his players.
"You might not believe this," Yang Cheng began, "but I've failed many times—maybe even more than I can count."
The players looked at him in surprise.
He didn't look like someone who had failed, ever.
Wasn't he supposed to be a golden boy? A genius coach?
"A loss like today," Yang Cheng continued, "honestly, it doesn't affect me all that much."
"Sure, if we lose the league because of this, maybe I'll feel a little bad."
"I might skip dinner, get in a bad mood, have a drink or two."
"But when tonight's over, it's over."
He was calm. Unshaken.
"But it wasn't always like that."
"I still remember the first time I suffered a major defeat—I locked myself away. I didn't want to see anyone."
"I regretted living in a world full of familiar faces. I was terrified of running into people. I was terrified of their eyes."
"They probably didn't mean it that way, but I felt like everyone around me was looking at me with mockery, with judgment in their eyes. So I didn't dare to look at them—and I didn't want them to see me either."
The players all looked down.
Because that was exactly how they felt right now.
And in that moment, they realized—the coach truly understood.
"Later on, I realized what an immature, fragile, and cowardly mindset that was."
"Right now, you're looking at me, and I'm looking at you. Look around—your teammates are all here. Take a good look. All those dark thoughts you're having… do you really see any of them here?"
The players slowly raised their heads and looked at one another.
José Fonte threw an arm over Pepe's shoulder, Pepe pulled in Maicon, and then Maicon...
One by one, they all realized—what they had been afraid of simply didn't exist.
The people around them were their comrades, their brothers in arms.
"We are one unit, guys!"
"We lost—so let's all take responsibility together!"
"Remember this one thing."
"Don't be ashamed when others say you're not good enough. Because those who truly care about you, those who love you, they don't focus on your flaws. They care about your strengths—your progress!"
The players looked around again, shoulder to shoulder, nodding in agreement.
"I always say, the media are a bunch of selfish opportunists."
"They never think from our perspective. They only care about themselves."
"Today, they'll trample us into the ground. But if it benefits them, tomorrow they'll be on their knees, shamelessly sucking up."
"The media—and those who want to see us fall—they always use the same tactic."
"They'll take one tiny failure and use it to erase all your success."
"They love to take one bad game and pretend it invalidates an entire season's worth of effort."
"But that's not how football works!"
"Football shouldn't be only about the champions!"
"Anyone who thinks only the winner matters, and forgets every other team, will never succeed."
As Yang Cheng's voice grew more impassioned, the atmosphere in the locker room began to shift.
He had struck a nerve.
The players were listening—truly listening.
"What I want to tell you is this: when we suffer a setback, big or small, it doesn't matter."
"We keep going. Unwaveringly."
"We learn from it. We grow from it."
"And eventually, people will no longer see the version of you who failed, but the version who got better, who kept climbing."
"When people laugh at us, mock us, belittle us—let it go."
"Because all the progress we make, all the challenges we face head-on and conquer, belong to us."
"And when the day comes that we succeed, those who laughed at us will become the joke."
Yang Cheng scanned the room, watching each player closely.
He could see it—the shift in their eyes, in their posture.
He had gotten through to them.
"One last thing—I want to remind you all…"
"This is only Matchweek 31, guys."
"United won. They're up by two points now. So what?"
"In the matches ahead, we're not playing for United. Not for the title. Not for the media."
"We're playing for ourselves. For the fans of Bayswater China!"
The second Yang Cheng finished, the locker room burst into applause and shouts of affirmation.
When he opened the door and Brian Kidd and the rest of the staff came in, they were stunned.
The players were back.
Some went to shower, some were chatting, others calling for the massage therapist...
Someone had even stripped down completely, strutting around without a care.
The staff could hardly believe it.
They looked at Yang Cheng in awe.
How had he turned the mood around in just a few minutes?
...
Just as Yang Cheng had predicted.
That night and the next day, British, European, and global media exploded with headlines about Bayswater China's defeat at White Hart Lane.
Everyone was saying the same thing:
Ferguson's Manchester United had taken the lead and were marching toward the Premier League title.
At his post-match press conference following a 4–1 win over Blackburn, Ferguson insisted that nothing was certain and they couldn't get complacent.
But when asked about Bayswater China, the old Scotsman couldn't help but say with a touch of arrogance,
"They're still too young."
As for the rest of the season, Ferguson stated that United's aim was to win every remaining match.
He acknowledged it wouldn't be easy—because the Champions League was still in play.
And make no mistake—Ferguson would never willingly give up the Champions League.
He emphasized again that his team could handle the pressure on both fronts.
Now that United were top of the table again, everything Ferguson said seemed prophetic.
Every move was "brilliant."
The media wholeheartedly agreed:
United could absolutely challenge for a double.
Some were even fantasizing about another historic treble.
Yes—United were into the FA Cup semifinals.
Premier League. Champions League. FA Cup.
Was this the second coming of the 1999 treble?
The UK press jumped on it, and soon the story had gripped the global media and football fans alike.
Everyone wanted to see Ferguson and United rewrite history.
...
Midweek: Champions League quarterfinals, first leg.
Bayswater China hosted AC Milan.
Yang Cheng took this match very seriously.
They had just lost to Tottenham and weren't fully recovered. Then they'd face Liverpool on the weekend.
So Yang Cheng rotated his squad carefully.
Ancelotti's 4-3-2-1 defensive structure was impenetrable.
Bayswater China struggled to create danger.
But Yang Cheng had prioritized defense as well—Milan didn't get much out of their possession either.
Especially Kaká, who was tightly marked.
The turning point came in the 50th minute.
Kaká drove through the center, and Matuidi fouled him trying to recover.
Milan were awarded a direct free kick.
Pirlo stepped up—and with a calm, deadly strike, delivered a beautiful knuckleball.
1–0.
The entire crowd of over 70,000 gasped.
But in the 63rd minute, Bayswater China responded with an indirect free kick from the front.
Pepe rose and headed it in.
1–1!
A Brazilian defender, sure—but also a goal-scoring enforcer!
Then, in the 78th minute, nearly the same spot, the same setup—Pepe scored again with a header.
A brace.
Both free kicks had been won by Arshavin, both assisted by Ashley Young.
But in stoppage time, the 93rd minute, Kaká burst into the box and drew a clear foul from José Fonte.
No controversy—it was a stone-cold penalty.
Kaká stepped up and buried it.
2–2.
Bayswater China were held to a draw at home by AC Milan.
Meanwhile, Manchester United lost 1–2 away to Roma.
...
First a loss to Spurs.
Then a draw with Milan.
After the two-week international break, Bayswater China's rhythm was completely off.
Everyone could see it now—
In a schedule this brutal, once your rhythm is off... everything falls apart.
As expected, in the Premier League's Matchweek 32, Bayswater China, hosting Benítez's Liverpool, conceded within the first 15 minutes.
It was another set-piece—Crouch headed it on for Kuyt, who scored.
Bayswater China kept pushing afterward and equalized early in the second half through Yaya Touré after a wave of pressure.
But they couldn't find a second.
1–1.
A draw.
Three major matches in one week—two draws and one loss for Bayswater China.
Not terrible, but not enough to win a title.
Still, everything depends on context.
Under similar circumstances, Manchester United lost 1–2 away to Redknapp's Portsmouth.
Pompey had taken the lead in the 30th minute, and Ferdinand even scored an own goal.
United only pulled one back through O'Shea in the final moments.
So yes, they lost too.
Just like Yang Cheng had predicted: United's schedule looked favorable on paper, but it was full of traps.
Portsmouth had dominated Bayswater China at Wembley.
Back on home turf, they returned the favor against United.
If Bayswater China's two draws and one loss was bad...
Then United's one win and two losses, against weaker opponents, was worse.
That said—on the table, United came out ahead.
After this round, they led Bayswater China by one point.
...
FA Cup semifinal: Watford vs. Manchester United.
Watford had originally requested to rent Wembley for this match.
Yang Cheng wanted to take the opportunity to scout United in person.
But negotiations with the FA broke down due to rental costs, so the match was moved to Villa Park in Birmingham.
Villa Park had more than double the capacity of Vicarage Road—42,000 compared to just 20,000.
Despite being further away, nearly 40,000 fans showed up.
"What a shame—one FA Cup semi and they've made over a million pounds just in ticket sales," Yang Cheng joked, watching the crowd.
Xia Qing, sitting beside him, shot him a helpless look.
He had told her they were "just going out for a walk."
She thought it was something romantic...
Turns out, it was to watch United live in Birmingham.
Classic single guy move.
Still, if he had told her the truth, she would've come anyway—even if she had zero interest in the match.
"Do you think Watford can stop United?" Xia Qing asked.
Yang Cheng shook his head with a smile. "No idea."
"Ugh, you're killing the conversation here," Xia Qing muttered.
He could talk endlessly to players—why not with her?
"Really, I don't know. That's football."
"Often, no one knows when or how they'll lose. And you're never 100% sure of winning."
"The moment you believe you'll definitely win—you're screwed. That's when you lose."
Xia Qing thought it over.
Made sense.
"Honestly, I'm not upset at all. Don't think I'm just pretending to be strong."
"Did I say that?" Xia Qing asked, raising a brow.
"Then who was it who called, messaged, and said she wanted to treat me to hot pot?"
Xia Qing blushed and looked away.
So… he did understand.
"This season, title or not, it's a victory for us. Just a matter of how much we win."
Back to football again. Xia Qing sighed, slightly disappointed.
But she understood what Yang Cheng meant.
This season had been invaluable for Bayswater China's young squad.
Winning the league would be great.
But even if they didn't, they'd gained so much.
Give them a little more time—they'd have another shot.
...
Why did Yang Cheng come to watch United?
Because Ferguson had started tweaking his tactics.
He was experimenting with a 4-2-3-1.
Forget the defense and double pivot—the interesting part was the "3" and the "1."
The lone striker this match was Alan Smith.
The English forward had returned from a long injury layoff and was doing decently.
His strength? Relentless pressing and work rate.
As Yang Cheng had said before—Ferguson had always been searching for a striker to maximize Ronaldo and Rooney.
United's star duo weren't suited to battling center-backs head-on.
Especially Ronaldo.
He needed space to sprint and exploit defenders.
That's where someone like Saha came in—holding off center-backs.
But Saha was often injured and inconsistent.
Ferguson had even tried to sign Berbatov from Leverkusen, but Spurs beat him to it.
Now, he turned to Alan Smith.
Behind him: the "3" consisted of Rooney in the center, Giggs on the left, and Ronaldo on the right.
But in truth, Ronaldo roamed freely—left, center, right—wherever there was space, he drifted there.
Which made Smith's role even more crucial.
Physically strong, always moving, willing to do the dirty work—he popped up everywhere to link play.
For example, in just the 7th minute, Carrick slipped a through ball.
Both Giggs and Smith let it run—Rooney picked it up at the edge of the box, cut inside, and scored with his right foot.
Watford equalized.
But just two minutes later, Smith contested a long ball on the right, won the aerial duel.
Rooney collected the second ball and assisted Ronaldo, who scored.
The two goals in the second half were even clearer examples.
One came after Giggs was dispossessed—Smith immediately pressed, won the ball back, crossed, and Rooney scored at the near post.
The last was another assist from Smith.
Four goals—all involving Alan Smith.
Yang Cheng watched from the stands, shaking his head.
Aidy Boothroyd's tactics, substitutions—everything was awful.
Watford's defensive shape was rigid. They had no idea how to deal with a mobile striker like Smith.
"United won," Xia Qing said softly, watching Yang Cheng closely.
To her surprise, Yang Cheng smiled.
"Good win."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean… this system works well for United."
"You're seriously complimenting them?" she asked, suspicious.
"What else would I be doing?" Yang Cheng chuckled.
Then he added, "You know, there's a saying among coaches—never change a winning lineup."
"So?"
"Well, United just had a big win. It was smooth and beautiful. I'm guessing Ferguson will stick with it."
Xia Qing didn't quite get it.
Yang Cheng wasn't going to explain.
Not yet.
This system might be great for bullying weaker teams.
But in a real heavyweight clash?
It would struggle.
Of course, when it comes to matches, you never really know.
What if something unexpected happens?
Yang Cheng, however, found himself thinking of another player while watching Alan Smith.
Not Smith himself—but someone with a similar story.
Someone who had also suffered a broken leg.
In Yang Cheng's view, this player's story was incredibly inspiring.
Had he not broken his leg, he might've achieved even greater, maybe extraordinary things.
And most importantly—he was a homegrown player.
…
Premier League Matchweek 33, Bayswater China traveled to The Valley to take on Charlton Athletic.
Fresh off their FA Cup exit and a rough spell of two draws and a loss, Yang Cheng stuck to the team's signature style.
From the first whistle, they pressed high, played aggressive, and looked to take control.
Charlton's manager, Alan Pardew, was well prepared. He packed the midfield and backline, focusing on a tight defensive counterattack.
But even that couldn't stop Bayswater China.
Just five minutes in, Maicon sent in a cross from the right flank.
All the defenders were watching Džeko and the onrushing Yaya Touré—two towering players.
No one noticed Arshavin, who ghosted in behind them and headed home from eight meters out.
1–0!
After the goal, Bayswater China played more cautiously—but still controlled the ball and tempo.
Charlton held their shape in the first half.
But after the break, they started pushing forward, desperate for an equalizer.
That pressure caused problems for Bayswater China at first.
But in the 56th minute, Yaya Touré launched a long ball from the back to spark a counterattack.
Arshavin sprinted into space, reached the ball first, and headed it on to Džeko.
The Bosnian striker kept his cool and slotted it past the keeper.
2–0!
In the 64th minute, they almost scored again.
Arshavin dribbled through the middle and drew a triple team.
He slipped the ball to Ashley Young, whose shot was saved by Scott Carson.
In the end, Bayswater China secured a 2–0 away win over Charlton.
Meanwhile, Manchester United beat Sheffield United 2–0 at Old Trafford.
Yang Cheng specifically reviewed the match footage.
Sure enough, Ferguson had once again deployed Alan Smith as the lone striker.
It confirmed Yang Cheng's earlier theory.
With Saha unreliable, Ferguson was using Smith to support Rooney and Ronaldo.
…
April 11th, evening — San Siro, Milan.
Champions League quarterfinal, second leg.
Bayswater China traveled to face AC Milan.
After a 2–2 draw in the first leg, Yang Cheng had few options.
Milan held two away goals. Sitting back wasn't an option.
Ancelotti stuck to his tried-and-true Christmas Tree formation.
Milan XI:
GK: DidaDF: Jankulovski, Maldini, Nesta, OddoDM: Ambrosini, Pirlo, GattusoAM: Seedorf, KakáFW: Inzaghi
Maldini and Gattuso had missed recent league matches due to injury—but both returned for this game.
That was huge for Milan.
In Serie A, Milan were too far behind to challenge Inter for the title, so Ancelotti had shifted full focus to the Champions League.
Just days earlier, they had hosted Empoli at home and rotated heavily—still won 3–1 with ease.
So in terms of fitness, Milan had the edge.
Bayswater China, meanwhile, were still in a heated title race in England.
Yang Cheng went with his usual 4-3-3.
Bayswater China XI:
GK: NeuerDF: Leighton Baines, José Fonte, Pepe, MaiconMF: Yaya Touré (DM), Modrić, Lass DiarraFW: Ashley Young, Džeko, Arshavin
Yang Cheng's approach was clear:
Even away from home, he wanted to impose his tempo, to drag Milan into his preferred rhythm.
But facing this Milan side was a nightmare.
Their defense was elite. Their counterattack lethal.
And you couldn't let them control the tempo either.
With Pirlo, Seedorf, Kaká—all supreme passers—plus a poacher like Inzaghi up front, they could hurt you from anywhere.
Sit too deep, and you're giving away initiative.
Milan's short passing and combinations were incredibly smooth.
This wasn't a "typical Italian" team.
In fact, with Pirlo, Seedorf, and Kaká, they had three natural No.10s—a team overflowing with technical quality.
If Milan had a flaw, it was age.
Their veterans took time to get going.
So Yang Cheng wanted to dictate the rhythm early.
But there was another problem…
"Damn this weather!"
Yang Cheng pulled on a raincoat and looked up.
Rain streamed into his open palm.
The skies over Milan had opened up—the downpour was intensifying.
Even coming from rainy England, Yang Cheng hated this.
Bayswater China thrived on short, quick passing, but in this kind of rain, the ball and the pitch became slippery and unpredictable.
…
From kickoff, Bayswater China went for it.
Premier League teams were used to their blitz starts—but Milan hadn't felt it firsthand.
Ashley Young sent in a diagonal cross from the left—Maldini cleared it just before Džeko could connect.
But the ball stayed with Bayswater China.
They reloaded the attack.
Just over one minute in, Arshavin dribbled past Maldini and crossed low from the right.
Džeko's shot was blocked by Nesta.
Corner.
Pepe met the corner with a header—just over the bar.
Then in the 3rd minute, a long-range Modrić rocket forced Dida to tip it over.
Another corner.
This one was too close to goal—Dida claimed it.
In the 7th minute, Maicon crossed from the right—Arshavin volleyed it, but Dida held on.
Milan responded in the 13th minute with their first shot—Kaká from distance, easily saved by Neuer.
Bayswater China had been the aggressors from the start.
But by the 10th minute, and especially after the 15-minute mark, Milan's counterattacks started clicking.
Yang Cheng gestured for his team to steady the tempo and tighten their defensive shape.
Kaká was in red-hot form.
Bayswater China had seen his threat in the first leg.
Milan were calm—they had two away goals and knew they only needed one.
And Milan's defense?
Gattuso and Ambrosini shielded the backline with brilliant positioning and timing.
This was the benefit of a triple pivot midfield.
Pirlo orchestrated from the center, with Gattuso and Ambrosini flanking him to sweep and disrupt. Their relentless running and coverage made it nearly impossible for Bayswater China's attacks to bear fruit.
Especially against Arshavin—their containment was airtight.
The Russian liked to drift into the half-spaces and operate from the flanks, but no matter where he went, he couldn't shake off Gattuso and Ambrosini.
Other than the first 10 minutes, the rest of the first half was completely locked in a stalemate.
Milan focused on counterattacks, but Kaká was closely marked by Bayswater China.
The visitors, for their part, wanted to attack but found it hard to generate clear threats.
They also had to constantly guard against being caught out on the counter.
This tug-of-war stretched across the entire first half.
Then, early in the second half, Bayswater China missed two golden chances.
In the 48th minute, Maicon sent in a curling cross from the right. Džeko drew the defense near post, and Ashley Young ghosted in at the back post—but failed to connect, wasting a perfect scoring chance.
Then in the 53rd, Seedorf lost the ball in midfield. Lass Diarra led a quick transition and fed Arshavin.
The Russian escaped Ambrosini and drove into the box, but was tripped by the retreating Maldini.
The players immediately surrounded the referee.
Bayswater China claimed it was inside the box—penalty.
Milan insisted it was outside.
The referee opted for a yellow card and a free kick right outside the area.
Baines took the free kick, but it hit the wall—no danger.
"From the slow-motion replay, that looked like a penalty."
"But with the chaos on the pitch and the fact that we're at the San Siro, the ref was probably hesitant."
"Goal kick for AC Milan."
After those missed opportunities, Bayswater China paid the price.
Yang Cheng had been closely watching Pirlo, denying him room to play long balls.
But this time, it wasn't Pirlo—it was Nesta.
A long ball from the back dropped straight to Kaká, waiting up front for the counter.
The Brazilian brought it down, turned, and sprinted forward—directly at José Fonte.
Pepe had to stay with Inzaghi, leaving Fonte in a one-on-one.
Kaká burst into the box with a powerful touch and acceleration. Then, just as he reached the area, he slammed on the brakes and stopped the ball dead.
The pitch was slick, soaked with rain. Fonte, already at full speed, couldn't stop and slipped, collapsing inside the penalty box.
Kaká seized the moment, touched it sideways, and fired a left-footed rocket into the net.
1–0!
62nd minute—Kaká had given Milan the lead!
After conceding, Yang Cheng began making changes to reinforce the attack.
Even though he knew, deep down, that the odds were against them now.
Still, he had to try.
Milan retreated and dug in, setting up a low block to absorb pressure and wait to counter.
The rest of the match became a duel of all-out attack versus staunch defense.
Bayswater China couldn't create clear-cut chances.
Milan had several dangerous counters—but failed to finish.
In the end, Yang Cheng's side lost 0–1 at the San Siro.
Aggregate score: 2–3.
Bayswater China were eliminated from the Champions League, just short of the semifinals.
…
After the match, Yang Cheng admitted:
"The opponent had fresher legs, better defense, and sharper counterattacks. All of that created tremendous pressure for us."
"Congratulations to AC Milan. They are worthy winners."
Yang Cheng acknowledged that fighting for the Premier League had taken its toll on his team.
"Ancelotti rested six starters in their last league match and still beat their opponent easily. We didn't have that luxury."
"We've been grinding every match, giving our all every single game. With this kind of schedule and these kinds of opponents—it's incredibly tough."
But then Yang Cheng changed his tone:
"I'm proud that even in such difficult circumstances, my players fought until the very end. They didn't give up."
"Our biggest gain from this match is the defeat itself—but not just the loss."
"Even in the final minute, every one of us was still pressing, still fighting. We never gave up."
"We're a very young team, and to go through a loss like this is a precious experience."
"But let's be clear—failure itself is not the reward."
"What matters is the resilience we showed in adversity. That mental toughness and refusal to quit—that's the real reward."
At the end, Yang Cheng once again congratulated Ancelotti and Milan, and extended praise to Kaká:
"He was absolutely outstanding."
Yang Cheng never made any excuses for the loss.
A loss is a loss.
And he and his players could handle that.
In fact, his honest post-match comments won him the respect of many fans and journalists.
Everyone knew the context. The fixtures were brutal. The pressure was suffocating.
AC Milan had their own challenges—but Yang Cheng never made excuses.
That just wasn't his style.
…
Out of the FA Cup, leapfrogged in the league, and now eliminated from the Champions League.
Now, everyone was questioning Bayswater China's future.
Especially the British media.
They were convinced the club would end the season empty-handed.
Meanwhile, Ferguson's Manchester United, having lost the first leg 1–2 to Roma, came back and obliterated them 7–1 at Old Trafford.
The whole of Britain was singing Ferguson's praises.
The media claimed he and his Red Devils were ready to storm through the Premier League and Europe, recreating their legendary 1999 Treble.
After all, this was a 7–1 win in the Champions League quarterfinals!
Madness!
Yang Cheng reviewed United's lineup.
It was still Alan Smith, Rooney, Ronaldo, and Giggs.
This attacking combo had blown out several teams already.
The media believed Ferguson had found the perfect formula.
United were now seen as an unstoppable machine, charging toward the Premier League, FA Cup, and Champions League treble.
Nothing could stop them.
At least, that's what everyone believed…
Until Matchweek 34, when Manchester United went to Stamford Bridge.
0–0.
A goalless draw against Chelsea.
It seemed Ferguson had spent all of United's attacking luck on Roma.
At Stamford Bridge, Ronaldo, Rooney, Smith, Giggs…
They all looked lost.
They had no answer for Mourinho's ironclad defense.
And just like that, the world gasped again.
Football… always unpredictable.
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