Chapter 136: Ancelotti: Everything Under Control! We're Beating the Defending Champions!
"Yes!!!"
The moment Maldini's header found the net, AC Milan head coach Carlo Ancelotti leapt off the bench, fists raised high in the air, roaring with joy.
Milan hadn't had the best Champions League group stage—they barely scraped through as runners-up.
That meant they were drawn against Bayswater Chinese in the Round of 16.
Everyone at Milan knew this was no easy matchup.
This was the reigning Premier League champion, neck and neck with Manchester United in the league. A powerful side not to be underestimated.
But AC Milan had eliminated them in last season's quarterfinals. So the Rossoneri entered the tie with confidence and belief.
Ancelotti wasn't the only one fired up—his entire bench erupted in celebration.
"A perfect start!" laughed assistant coach Giorgio Ciaschini.
Ciaschini wasn't just Ancelotti's assistant—he was also a lifelong friend.
In 1992, when Ancelotti retired and joined the Italian national team as Sacchi's assistant, Ciaschini was right there with him.
In 1995, Ancelotti got his first solo gig at Reggiana, and Ciaschini was his assistant then too.
At 60, Ciaschini had followed Ancelotti from Reggiana to Parma, to Juventus, and now to Milan—they were inseparable.
"The key was the tailored tactics," added Mauro Tassotti with a grin.
For this match, AC Milan had made several specific tactical adjustments.
They didn't stick with their classic 4-3-2-1 Christmas Tree formation. Instead, they dropped Seedorf and brought in Inzaghi—a master of the offside line—to partner with Pato up front.
It was essentially a 4-3-1-2.
Pato brought speed and technical ability; Inzaghi was the poacher, the predator always lurking.
It was a setup designed to hit Bayswater Chinese where it hurt.
The midfield trio remained unchanged, but the back line was reworked.
Captain Maldini started at left back, with Kaladze and Nesta as center-backs, and Oddo on the right.
It was a stacked defensive unit.
Add the midfield shield, and Milan's intentions were crystal clear:
Defend and counterattack.
"Bayswater Chinese are masters of attacking through organized movement. They'll try to push the tempo early, drag us into their rhythm, and use high pressing to suppress us."
Ancelotti calmly explained to his assistants.
"If they want to do that, they'll have to push their defensive line up and counterpress aggressively after losing the ball. That's why they always start with high intensity—it's all about controlling the game's rhythm."
Bayswater Chinese's "blitzkrieg" style was notorious across Europe.
High tempo offense and defense were a Premier League trademark.
In contrast, Serie A was slower, more tactical, more conservative—especially poor in wide play.
Ancelotti knew this. That's why he paired Pato with Inzaghi.
"You like to push your back line up?"
"Fine. I'll send Pato—with his speed and skill—and Inzaghi—who lives on the offside line—straight at you."
As for midfield build-up?
Forget that. We won't even cross midfield. We'll just launch long balls into the space behind.
And with players like Pirlo, Maldini, and Nesta, Milan had the ability to do that.
Long pass quality might vary, but it only took one good one to break through.
And sure enough, just as expected, Bayswater Chinese started on the front foot, controlling possession and tempo.
But as they kept attacking, trying to pull apart Milan's back line, Pirlo launched a long ball behind the defense.
Pato was there to chase.
Pepe and Thiago Silva recovered quickly, but Pato's shot earned a corner.
Then came Maldini's header.
1–0!
Everything was going according to plan.
Ancelotti was brimming with confidence.
He was even starting to wonder: Could this be the season we defend our Champions League title?
Since the format changed, no team had ever defended the trophy.
Just thinking about it was exciting.
"They're probably in a tough spot now," Tassotti laughed.
Ancelotti and Ciaschini both nodded.
Conceding early away from home wasn't the end of the world—but now, how would they respond?
Milan had made their strategy clear: sit back and counter.
So, Bayswater Chinese—what's your move?
Push forward?
Then Milan would keep playing in behind.
Sit back?
Then how do you apply pressure to Milan's back line?
Now it was time for Pato and Kaká to shine.
Especially Kaká.
"This poor kid," Ciaschini said jokingly, referring to Yang Cheng.
He was 60—seeing 28-year-old Yang Cheng as a kid wasn't unreasonable.
Ancelotti's gaze wandered toward the visitor's technical area, where Yang Cheng stood, pensive.
There was a trace of amusement in his eyes, the kind only a seasoned veteran could have when watching a younger peer squirm.
If he were in Yang Cheng's shoes right now, he'd be feeling the pressure too.
The obvious option was to first stabilize the defense.
But that meant being on the back foot—not just for the first leg, but going into the second leg too.
And what was AC Milan best at?
Defending with a counterpunch.
Maldini's goal could prove decisive.
Ancelotti had thought through every possible scenario—every adjustment his opponent might consider.
And his conclusion?
Bayswater Chinese were in real trouble.
"He's still too young," Ancelotti sighed.
Tassotti and Ciaschini both nodded.
Young coaches tended to be aggressive. Reckless. Brave.
But what they didn't understand was this:
Against an Italian team, one goal could decide everything.
That was the essence of Italian tactical philosophy.
...
After conceding, Bayswater Chinese were rattled.
The players looked confused and disorganized.
They weren't fools—they knew the price of conceding early.
And they could clearly see Milan's plan.
Now what?
Their thoughts weren't aligned. The team's rhythm broke down.
AC Milan began to take control of midfield.
"We have to give instructions immediately," said Brian Kidd, unable to stay calm.
Milan had just earned two more corners in quick succession.
The pitch was messy, but the real problem was mental—Bayswater Chinese players had no consensus.
This was supposed to be their full-strength lineup.
Yaya Touré had just returned from the African Cup of Nations. Yang Cheng had even rested him in the league to save him for this match.
But if they got knocked over like this, it wasn't just about the second half—the second leg would be hell.
Young teams like Bayswater Chinese relied on momentum.
Most of their losses came from bad starts.
And Milan had punched them right in the gut from the opening whistle.
Classic Italian tactics.
Precise. Ruthless. Clinical.
Brian Kidd looked worriedly at Yang Cheng, who was clearly caught in a dilemma.
If they pushed up, Milan would rip them apart in behind.
If they sat back, they were already trailing 1–0. And if Milan shook free, Kaká would come alive.
Yang Cheng had assigned Lass Diarra to man-mark Kaká for this very reason.
But now what?
Kidd had no answers.
He could only turn to Yang Cheng and wait—wait for the head coach to make his move.
At that very moment, inside San Siro, no one noticed that the live Champions League broadcast kept cutting back to the touchline, focusing on Yang Cheng.
Clearly, the experienced director understood—whatever decision Yang Cheng made would determine Bayswater Chinese's fate.
In the UK, in London, and around the world, countless Bayswater Chinese fans were glued to their screens, watching Yang Cheng, hoping he would react swiftly.
"AC Milan's counters are deadly. Maybe Bayswater Chinese should focus on defense first," the commentator suggested.
After all, they were only down by one, and it was an away game.
There was still the return leg at home.
"But looking at the first 15 minutes, Bayswater Chinese's most potent weapon—their wing play—hasn't done much against Milan."
"Maldini and Oddo have defended superbly down the flanks."
"In fact, Bayswater Chinese's high defensive line has been exploited several times already. Milan's direct balls over the top have earned them three corners."
"Maldini's goal just now came from one of those corners."
As the world wondered whether Yang Cheng would pull his team back, whether AC Milan would land a second blow—Yang Cheng made his decision.
"Luka!"
Yang Cheng waved to Modrić on the field.
During a brief stoppage, the Croatian ran over to the touchline.
"Tell everyone—we have no way back. We must go forward. Keep pressing!"
"They want us to retreat. That's exactly why we can't. Push up, press harder, choke their midfield and back line."
"The more aggressive we are with our press, the less time they have for those long balls. Got it?"
Modrić nodded and sprinted back onto the pitch.
He quickly relayed Yang Cheng's message to his teammates—and the ripple spread through the squad.
Suddenly, everyone was on the same page.
Regardless of the score, regardless of what might happen later, their orders were clear: high pressing, full throttle, strangle Milan's buildup.
Brian Kidd stood beside Yang Cheng.
Even in the roar of San Siro, he heard the words loud and clear.
And he was stunned.
"Isn't that too risky?" Kidd asked, worried.
It was part of his job.
Yang Cheng had always leaned aggressive—it was Kidd's role to offer balance.
"The opening tactics are already set. If we pull back now, don't you think Ancelotti is ready for that?" Yang Cheng replied calmly.
Kidd had no counter.
Tactical battles between great managers aren't resolved in one move.
"Ancelotti's plan was clever—he wants to force us back."
"But look at that defense. What's their average age?"
Maldini: 39.
Kaladze: 30.
Nesta: nearly 32.
Oddo: 31.
Midfield?
Ambrosini: 30.
Pirlo: 28.
Gattuso: 30.
"You think Ancelotti doesn't know that? They don't want a high-tempo game with us. That's what we must give them."
Yang Cheng had already crafted his game plan before kickoff—he wanted to drag Milan into a high-intensity battle.
"There's no turning back. We've already drawn the sword. Changing now only makes us look indecisive. Better to double down—be even more aggressive!"
Yang Cheng's words rang with resolve.
No regrets.
Backed into a corner, fight harder.
After that, he walked straight to the sideline again, shouting for Lass Diarra—telling him to stay tight on Kaká.
Then he called over Leighton Baines.
During a break in play, the English left-back ran over.
"Remind Pepe and Thiago Silva—they must stay alert to Pato and Inzaghi."
"You and Maicon—stay sharp. Tuck in when needed. Help the center-backs shut those two down."
"They've got no real wing threat. Don't worry about wide coverage. Got it?"
"And control the first touch off long balls. Keep the defensive shape. One slip and their whole front line could break through."
Baines nodded and rushed back into position.
...
With Yang Cheng's orders in effect, Bayswater Chinese quickly regained their composure.
From the 20th minute on, they cranked up the high press.
The entire back line pushed up.
By having both full-backs cut inside at the right moments, they created layers in the defense.
Whether it was Milan's classic 4-3-2-1 Christmas Tree or today's 4-3-1-2, there was a clear flaw:
Disconnect between midfield and attack.
In the Christmas Tree, Milan relied on Kaká and Seedorf to bridge the lines.
Today, with Seedorf dropped for Pato, Milan went more direct—long balls behind the defense.
That meant Pato often lingered high, waiting for the pass, not dropping to link play.
Which left only Kaká to connect midfield and attack.
But Lass Diarra was shadowing him. And Yaya Touré was shielding the back four.
With Kaká limited, Milan's forward movement stalled.
Yang Cheng dialed up the pressing even more, and Milan's long balls lost accuracy.
Pato and Inzaghi couldn't find space. The counters dried up.
With long balls neutered and build-up broken, Milan were suddenly on the back foot.
By the 30th minute, it showed.
To the fans, it looked like a fierce back-and-forth, intense duels, evenly matched.
But the reality? Bayswater Chinese had wrestled back control.
The biggest tell: Ancelotti, Tassotti, and Ciaschini—who had looked relaxed—were now visibly tense.
"This kid has guts!" Tassotti frowned.
"No kidding. Stuck in that bind, knowing he'd been targeted—and he still pushed forward? He's either completely naïve or he's a seasoned master in disguise," Ciaschini muttered.
He glanced over at Yang Cheng. "Definitely naïve."
But just as Milan's staff were debating, the game took a sudden turn.
Arshavin drifted to the right flank and picked up the ball.
He cut inside.
The Russian danced past Ambrosini and Pirlo, then at the edge of the arc, slotted a diagonal pass toward the left side of the box.
Di María burst into the area, beating Oddo to the ball, cushioning it with his left, shielding the defender with his body—
Then fired with his right.
But the shot sailed over the bar.
A rocket… into the upper stands.
Ancelotti glanced at the away bench and saw Yang Cheng covering his face, mortified.
Faintly, he heard a yell:
"Get his damn right foot sorted or I'll let him coach the team!"
Ancelotti nearly laughed—
But couldn't.
Because that attack?
It was dangerously close.
Fortunately, Oddo's experience and preparation paid off—he locked down Di María's left foot.
The Argentine's right foot was, frankly, quite average. When playing on the right wing, he often resorted to a rabona rather than using his right.
But that last attack was a warning for Ancelotti.
There were gaps in Milan's defense.
They were sitting too deep.
Pirlo, in particular, was reluctant to push up—afraid of getting caught under pressure.
Ancelotti walked to the sideline and called out to Pirlo, motioning for the entire midfield and backline to push higher.
...
As Ancelotti adjusted to tighten the shape, Yang Cheng sensed an opportunity.
He walked to the touchline and called for Modrić, instructing him to increase use of the space at the top of the box and coordinate closely with Arshavin.
Bayswater Chinese's most dangerous weapon was their rapid-fire, short-range passing combinations.
Modrić, Arshavin, Di María, Džeko—every one of them could play in tight areas.
Now that they'd pushed Milan back, they could create danger right around the penalty area.
Yang Cheng gave another clear order: build on the left, then switch the play.
Why not attack the right?
Because Maldini was in top form tonight.
The man was aging like fine wine—getting freakier with age.
More importantly, Maldini rarely ventured forward anymore.
Oddo, on the other hand, pushed high every chance he got.
In modern football, midfielders may cover the most ground on paper, but in truth, no position burns more energy than full-back.
The fact that Ancelotti placed Maldini at left-back was a giveaway—they intended to keep that flank defensive.
As good as Maldini was, there was no way a 39-year-old could sprint box to box all night.
So Yang Cheng instructed his team to focus their attacks down the left—to pin back Oddo.
That way, Bayswater Chinese's pressure would increase.
And if they could break through down that side, the psychological impact on Milan would be massive.
...
As time ticked on, Bayswater Chinese leaned more and more on the left flank.
Leighton Baines surged forward, linking up with Di María.
Modrić and Džeko frequently drifted over, making the left side a focal point of attack.
Gattuso and Oddo began to struggle—especially Oddo.
The right-back was clearly overwhelmed.
Ancelotti recognized the danger and instructed Pato and Inzaghi to press Bayswater's center-backs harder.
In the 37th minute, during a routine recycling of possession, Pepe took a pass near the halfway line.
Pato immediately charged him.
The two center-backs were spread wide, but Pepe didn't panic—he swept a pass across to Thiago Silva on the opposite side.
The Brazilian took two touches and carried the ball past the halfway line before feeding Yaya Touré.
Inzaghi tried to pressure, but it wasn't enough.
Yaya played the ball to Modrić, who had dropped in between Kaká and Inzaghi to receive.
At first, Modrić shaped to pass left to Baines.
But suddenly, he stopped and reversed the ball—a flick with the outside of his right boot.
A brilliant disguised pass slipped just past Kaká and landed at Džeko's feet on the left edge of the box.
Meanwhile, Di María had darted wide left, dragging Oddo away and opening space for Džeko.
When Džeko received Modrić's pass, Oddo rushed over to help, hoping to trap him with Nesta.
Di María stood ready to make a run to the byline—everyone expected a pass to him.
Even Milan's defenders.
But instead, Džeko stopped, turned, and whipped a low pass across to the top of the box.
Arshavin had lost Pirlo and was sprinting in.
Pato and Inzaghi's earlier press had pushed Milan's midfield higher.
Modrić's quick pass had left them no time to reset.
As Arshavin reached the top of the arc, he faked a drive to the right side of the box—Kaladze stepped across to block the lane.
But Arshavin had already cut left with a sharp feint and burst into the area.
One motion, one clean beat—Kaladze was left behind.
Before Nesta could recover, and before Kaladze could recover from the dummy, Arshavin unleashed a thunderbolt with his left foot.
Dida reacted quickly, diving left—
—but Arshavin was quicker.
The ball rocketed into the top left corner!
GOAL!!!
38th minute—Arshavin equalizes for Bayswater Chinese!
The camera zoomed in on Arshavin, who sprinted to the sideline and slid on his knees in celebration.
His teammates followed, erupting with joy.
On the sideline, Yang Cheng raised his fists and roared—the spitting image of Ancelotti's earlier celebration.
Then he turned and high-fived and hugged Brian Kidd and the rest of his staff.
"Bayswater Chinese have broken through Milan's defense!"
"Since the 30th minute, the Premier League side has clearly taken control—creating multiple dangerous chances."
"This goal, once again, showcases Džeko's importance."
"He's been at the heart of nearly every Bayswater Chinese attack this season."
"Milan's iron wall has finally been breached!"
1–1!
"We're all square—well, no, not quite."
"Bayswater Chinese now hold a crucial away goal."
"Let's see how both sides respond."
...
"AC Milan don't dare change anything now!"
The first half ended 1–1.
In the visitors' locker room, Yang Cheng was already preparing the second-half strategy.
"Their biggest weakness is clear—age."
Bayswater Chinese had expended a lot of energy.
Everyone was gasping for air.
But their eyes—they were shining.
Because they saw hope.
Yang Cheng's bold decision in the first half had stunned everyone.
But not a single player questioned him—they obeyed without hesitation.
And they equalized.
That only made them believe in him even more.
Yang Cheng's authority in this team wasn't built overnight—it came from years of battles, from one match, one victory at a time.
On a pitch where everything can change in seconds, even if the players disagreed with him, they followed his orders without hesitation.
"Their age makes it impossible for them to handle a war of attrition with us."
"We're struggling, sure—but they're struggling more."
"From the 20th minute onward in the first half, the tempo had already gone beyond what they expected. They're only going to get more uncomfortable, but they won't dare make a move!"
It was 1–1. Milan had held on to that scoreline with great difficulty.
Based on how the first half played out, any tactical shift might make things worse for them.
And what options did Ancelotti really have?
Seedorf?
To free up Kaká?
If he did that, Yang Cheng's first move would be to unleash his full-backs.
Di María, Arshavin, even Džeko—none of them had clear advantages in 1v1s against Maldini or Oddo. But if the full-backs joined the attack, the dynamic would completely flip.
One year.
Never underestimate it.
In that year, Milan got one year older.
And Bayswater Chinese got one year stronger.
The balance had shifted.
"Second half, same plan as the first. No rush, but keep the high tempo."
"Draw them into our rhythm and wear them down."
The players nodded.
"I noticed Milan basically stopped playing long balls later in the half. So only one full-back stays deep, just in case—the other can push up aggressively."
Leighton Baines and Maicon exchanged a glance. No words needed—they understood the rhythm of their cooperation perfectly.
"Midfield duties remain the same. Lass—"
Yang Cheng turned to Lass Diarra. "You did great in the first half. Kaká tried to dribble past you twice and failed both times. Keep him locked down. Don't let up. If we win this match, the credit's all yours."
Lass Diarra grinned wide. "That better come with a raise!"
The whole room burst into laughter.
From day one, Diarra had been a notorious money-chaser—and proud of it.
Everyone knew it.
But that attitude had helped build a healthy atmosphere in the squad.
At least, from Yang Cheng's perspective—it was a good thing.
No one was afraid to talk about money.
Of course, confidentiality agreements were in place, and no one shared their actual wages.
But with Yang Cheng, the subject of money was never taboo.
So when Lass joked about wanting a raise, no one blinked.
Especially since Yang Cheng had just promised him the match's "top credit."
Diarra just thought: Forget the credit—pay me instead.
"We'll make a small adjustment to our attack."
"In the first half, we focused on the left. Milan will expect that now. So in the second half, we'll go straight at them through the middle, using the flanks to support."
"Once we reach the edge of their box, then we switch it wide—mainly targeting the space behind their full-backs."
"Midfielders, be ready to press and drop back quickly."
Modrić and Yaya Touré both nodded.
With Lass tied up locking down Kaká, it would be up to them to control that transition zone.
"If I'm right, Ancelotti won't make changes until at least the 60th minute. The most likely sub? Gilardino."
"He might take off Pato or Inzaghi."
Pato and Inzaghi were there to exploit offside lines.
But with Milan's long passes no longer landing, keeping two offside-dependent forwards made little sense.
Gilardino, a more traditional center-forward, might offer something different.
"Guys!"
Yang Cheng clapped, snapping everyone to attention.
"This match—whatever you're thinking, I believe we've got this!"
All heads nodded.
"One year ago, we fell to AC Milan in the quarterfinals of the Champions League."
"At the time, we were facing the eventual champions."
"But today, one year later—you've seen it yourselves. This is not that Milan. This is an aging Serie A giant."
"I don't want just a win—I want away goals."
"We walk out of San Siro with our heads held high—we avenge last season's heartbreak!"
The players' eyes burned with fire.
They remembered.
They hadn't forgotten the sting of that defeat.
The defending champs?
Tonight, we're beating the defending champs.
...
The second half began, and everything unfolded exactly as Yang Cheng predicted.
Ancelotti changed nothing.
Same tactics. Same plan.
So did Bayswater Chinese.
The result?
They maintained control of the match.
For Milan, that wasn't alarming—they were used to being outplayed.
But Bayswater Chinese came out flying, seized the tempo immediately, and forced Milan into a war of attrition.
In fact, Yang Cheng noticed that their passing combinations looked even smoother than in the Premier League.
Why?
Because in England, teams were all about brute strength—constant duels, endless fouls.
And pressing. Relentless pressing.
Serie A teams, like Milan, were more cautious. Less physical.
And most of all—aging.
A perfect example came in the 53rd minute.
Di María tried to cut inside from the left and cross, but Nesta blocked it out of the box.
Modrić chested the clearance down before Gattuso could reach it and lobbed a delicate pass back into the danger zone.
Džeko ran onto it and tried to chest it down and shoot—but Dida rushed out and smothered it.
The Bosnian's height was an asset, but in that moment, his movement was a bit too slow.
A smaller, more agile striker might've fired on the first touch.
Still, Yang Cheng was satisfied.
It was a quality build-up—and a warning shot.
Milan's bench felt it too.
From the 55th minute on, Ancelotti's assistant Ciaschini started warming up Emerson and Gilardino.
The intention was clear.
What wasn't clear—was what the actual substitution would be.
Ancelotti himself still looked undecided.
Then, in the 61st minute, Bayswater Chinese broke up an AC Milan attack in their own half.
Yaya Touré collected the loose ball and fired a diagonal pass to the right wing.
Arshavin brought it down on his chest, cut inside under pressure from Maldini, and slipped a pass to Modrić.
Just outside Milan's 30-meter zone, Modrić laid it off to Džeko, who had dropped deep to help.
The Bosnian returned it to Modrić, now breaking into the open.
And the next play?
Gennaro Gattuso and Andrea Pirlo both pressed Modrić.
The Croatian scanned the field and shifted toward the right channel, looking for a link-up with Arshavin.
The Russian received the ball in that area.
By then, even Maicon had surged forward, arriving at the right edge of the penalty area.
But with Ambrosini pressuring him, Arshavin was forced to pass back to Modrić, who had dropped into space about 30 meters from goal, completely unmarked.
Modrić feinted as if to play wide again, but quickly turned and slotted a diagonal ground pass toward the left edge of the box.
Di María cushioned it with the inside of his left foot.
Milan's defense immediately adjusted.
Oddo, the right-back, sprinted over to close him down.
But that's exactly what the Argentine had been waiting for.
He faked a move inside toward the top of the box, dropping his right shoulder to bait Oddo into shifting position—ready to block a cut inside or diagonal run.
Then, unexpectedly, Di María poked the ball toward the byline and exploded past Oddo, gaining half a step of space, and reached the end line before swinging in a left-footed cross.
Oddo was experienced, and his reactions were sharp—but not sharp enough.
Once he lost that half-step, he couldn't catch up.
In the middle, Džeko—who had just dropped deep to link up with Modrić—was already in position.
He raised his hand to signal, then charged like a tank to the far post, rising above Kaladze and unleashing a bullet header at point-blank range near the right upright.
A collective gasp echoed through the San Siro.
Then came the sharp blow of the referee's whistle.
Džeko tore out of the box in jubilation, sprinting straight to the sideline, roaring into the camera.
"GOAL!!!"
"2–1!!"
"Bayswater Chinese have come from behind to take the lead!"
"A powerful header from Edin Džeko!"
"And what a brilliant assist from Di María—perfect weight and placement!"
"Džeko took full advantage of his late run and physically overpowered Kaladze to score."
"This attack was textbook!"
San Siro roared with boos.
But on the pitch, Bayswater Chinese players celebrated wildly.
On the sideline, Yang Cheng raised both fists and shouted with unrestrained excitement—mirroring Ancelotti's earlier celebration for Maldini's goal.
This goal was crucial.
It was the definition of a striker's role—holding up the ball, linking play, and scoring.
Earlier, Džeko had dropped deep to feed Arshavin.
Now, he finished the move himself with a header.
And on the other side?
Milan had no true striker. No one who could hold up the ball in the final third.
...
Ancelotti kicked a nearby water bottle in frustration.
He was bitterly disappointed.
They still conceded.
But he reacted quickly.
Gilardino came on for Inzaghi, and Milan's tactics shifted.
Now the front line featured Gilardino and Pato.
Gilardino, as a center-forward, could press higher and relieve some pressure from the midfield and defense.
Bayswater Chinese made no changes.
After the comeback, Yang Cheng urged his players to keep attacking.
This was an away leg. The pressure was on Milan, not them.
And as time ticked on, Milan's older legs began to fade.
By the 60th minute, both sides looked a bit gassed, and the tempo dropped.
But Bayswater Chinese still held up better than Milan's aging squad.
The most telling moment came in the 69th minute, when Modrić picked Pirlo's pocket cleanly.
If not for Nesta's emergency clearance, Džeko would've had another clear chance.
Milan's energy levels were clearly dipping.
At the 75-minute mark, Ancelotti subbed off Pato and brought on Seedorf, hoping to free up Kaká.
But Kaká had been invisible all match—Las Diarra had shut him down completely.
No successful dribbles. No dangerous moments.
Frozen out.
With Seedorf on, Milan pushed harder.
And that's when Bayswater Chinese pulled back slightly, focusing on defense.
In the 75th minute, Yang Cheng made his first substitution—Gareth Bale on for Di María.
The Argentine had been excellent but was exhausted.
With the team sitting deeper, Bale's speed could be deadly on the counter.
Then, in the 79th minute, Lass Diarra and Modrić teamed up to strip Seedorf of possession and quickly fed the ball to Yaya Touré.
Seeing open space ahead, the Ivorian took off like a freight train, brushing past Seedorf and Kaká with ease.
Bayswater Chinese launched a rapid counter.
Crossing midfield, Touré sent the ball wide right.
Despite being tired, Arshavin sprinted to the touchline and caught up with the pass.
He feinted toward the byline, fooling Maldini, then instantly cut inside.
Ambrosini had dropped to the edge of the box, ready to double up with Maldini.
But Arshavin dragged the ball across with his left foot, then quickly nudged it right, slicing between the two defenders and into the penalty area.
Charging diagonally toward goal, he drew Kaladze in—
Then suddenly squared the ball back.
And there he was—
A towering figure in red, thundering into the box.
Yaya Touré.
He met the pass in stride and smashed it low into the bottom-right corner.
Dida dove, but the ball was past him before he could react.
"GOAL AGAIN!!!"
"A blistering counterattack from Bayswater Chinese!"
"Arshavin beat two defenders and delivered the killer pass—Yaya Touré finishes it!"
"3–1!"
"A stunning comeback at San Siro!"
"Bayswater Chinese have finally avenged last season's heartbreak!"
"With just over ten minutes left, AC Milan are in deep trouble!"
"Tonight belongs to Bayswater Chinese!"
"And especially to Arshavin—one goal, one assist!"
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