Chapter 102: You Can Be Better Looking Than Me, But Dirtier? Never—Because I'm the True Defensive Midfielder!
"Ah! What a play!"
"GOOOAL——!!! Leon's forward run dragged CSKA's defense out of shape! Cristiano Ronaldo! Ronaldo breaks the deadlock for Real Madrid right before halftime! A priceless away goal for Los Blancos!"
Zhang Lu and Duan Xuan shouted in near unison, their voices brimming with excitement.
Even Mourinho, who had been composed and aloof on the sidelines with hands in pockets, dropped the cool act.
He raised a clenched fist high into the air, only to be immediately hugged by an overjoyed Karanka.
Commentators across the globe began praising Mourinho's in-game tactical adjustments.
He had signaled for both central midfielders to push up, and just six or seven minutes later, amid the chaos up front, Real Madrid created a golden chance for Ronaldo in the box!
Now that's what you call a masterclass in live tactical management!
The small but vocal contingent of nearly two thousand Real Madrid fans in the stands erupted in wild celebration.
In the Champions League knockout stages, every away goal counts—there's no such thing as an "unimportant" one.
To score first in the freezing cold of Moscow was nearly a perfect start for Real Madrid.
All that was left was to try and hold on to the lead.
If they could win 1–0, the fans would be thrilled.
A 1–1 draw would be acceptable. Even a 2–2 result with two away goals would be satisfying.
Either way, Madridistas everywhere believed their team had more than enough firepower to finish the job back home at the Bernabéu.
But the players on the pitch clearly weren't thinking that small.
With the lead in hand, both Mourinho and his players had only one thing on their minds: pushing further to expand it.
At halftime, Mourinho and Karanka quickly crafted a new tactical plan.
The defensive setup from the first half had served its purpose: getting the players acclimated to the brutal cold.
Even the rough pitch conditions could be handled now with a more direct style of play.
Counterattack efficiency was still well below their usual standard, but now the players were finally able to leverage their superior individual skills.
Of course, the top priority remained avoiding injury.
Once the revised plan was set, the Real Madrid squad stepped confidently back onto the pitch.
The CSKA home crowd erupted into deafening boos as Madrid brought on Di María for Kaká and shifted into an aggressive 4-3-3.
Mourinho's intention to boost counterattacking pace along both wings was written all over the move.
But CSKA had no real alternative. What, were they supposed to bunker down and wait to gamble in the final minutes?
That's not how a home team should play.
Leonid's game plan for the second half was clear: simplify, go more direct, and increase offensive pressure by throwing more men forward.
As a result, CSKA dominated the midfield in the early moments after the restart, launching a series of dangerous balls behind Madrid's back line.
But on this night, Pepe was in top form and stood tall at critical moments.
Any attacker who managed to slip past Leon and the others ended up losing the ball—or getting floored—when they met Pepe.
Sure, his defending was borderline brutal, but undeniably effective.
Pepe received two verbal warnings within twenty minutes, and eventually picked up a yellow card.
But it was all worth it.
Because before CSKA could truly break through, Real Madrid struck again!
In the 57th minute, Gonzalo Higuaín, who had come on to replace the injured Benzema, made full use of Ronaldo's blistering break and pinpoint cross.
He calmly met the ball near the near post and, without even taking a touch, side-footed it toward the far corner.
Chepchugov had absolutely no answer. It was the kind of clinical finish that leaves a keeper frozen.
The moment the ball hit the net, Mourinho issued new tactical orders without hesitation.
Di María dropped deeper to the left central midfield slot, Essien anchored the right, and Leon returned to form a double pivot alongside Xabi Alonso.
A 4-4-2 setup. Real Madrid was now focused on locking down the midfield to secure the win.
With Leon dropping back and the entire team committing to defense, Pepe and Ramos no longer had to deal with one-on-one charges from CSKA attackers all by themselves.
And with Ronaldo and Higuaín still lurking up front, CSKA couldn't commit everyone forward either.
Conceding two away goals was already bad enough—if they gave up another, their Champions League campaign was as good as over.
Leonid wasn't nearly as bold as Mourinho. He didn't dare go all-in.
In the end, all he could do was watch helplessly as his team lost at home—clean and clear.
As the final whistle blew, the Real Madrid fans were already wondering who they'd face in the quarter-finals.
That same night, the team flew back to Madrid.
The surprise two-goal victory left everyone in high spirits, but injuries to Arbeloa before the game and Benzema during it cast a slight shadow over the win.
The next morning, without even waiting for the flood of media praise, Mourinho headed straight to the training ground to get the medical reports.
The results were a mixed bag.
Arbeloa had suffered a muscle strain in his thigh—a moderately serious one. Even with a conservative treatment plan, he'd need more than two weeks of rest, possibly three.
Benzema, meanwhile, had twisted his ankle during the match.
Luckily, no ligaments or bones were damaged. The team doctor estimated a full recovery in one to two weeks.
That news allowed Mourinho to finally let out a long sigh of relief.
No long-term damage. Both starters would be back within a month—much better than he had feared.
But that didn't mean his troubles were over.
He now had to seriously consider how to balance the shooting rights between Higuaín and Ronaldo in the upcoming matches.
Later that afternoon, as the core players returned to the training base for recovery work, Mourinho's brow furrowed once again.
The grueling away trip and Moscow's frigid climate had taken a massive toll on the squad.
And to make matters worse, their next league match was scheduled for February 18th—just three days away.
So now, Mourinho had no choice but to make a decision.
Should he keep the starting players grinding through the schedule, pushing through the match against Rayo Vallecano before rotating them out for rest?
Or should he field a full rotation lineup in the next round and let the main squad properly recover their form and fitness?
Mourinho mulled over it for a while. He looked over the upcoming fixtures in his notebook, then checked the current point gap Real Madrid held over Barcelona.
Gradually, a plan formed in his mind.
※※※
After two straight days of training, most of the starting players—still feeling the fatigue in their bodies—were surprised to be given a day off.
The day before their February 18th league clash, they were unexpectedly allowed to go home for recovery and rest!
Of course, some of the core players in better shape still made the 18-man squad list.
Players like Xabi Alonso, Di María, and Cristiano Ronaldo were among them.
Leon was still in good condition too, so Mourinho didn't hesitate to rope him in.
If Leon wanted rest, he'd have to earn it—after he got through this next league game.
From the outside, it looked like Leon had it rough. He was the one playing almost every match in this grueling dual-front schedule, the least rotated player on the entire squad.
But Leon didn't mind. He had his own "system" going. He could rack up points and get stronger. A little extra work was nothing.
Recently, he'd already been watching highlight reels of famous long-range shooters—just waiting to collect enough points to pull a "long-range shooting talent fragment" from his next diamond card draw.
So even if Mourinho had planned to rest him this round, Leon would've fought for at least a spot on the bench.
On the night of February 18th, Mourinho led his "Team B" squad on an away trip to face Rayo Vallecano in La Liga's Matchday 24.
Leon started in midfield alongside Khedira and Granero in a three-man setup.
Marcelo, Albiol, Varane, and Carvajal lined up across the back.
Up front, the trident consisted of Lucas Vázquez, Morata, and Callejón.
Against a team hovering just above the relegation zone, Madrid's rotation squad should have been more than enough.
Looking at the standings, Rayo wasn't much stronger than the teams fighting for survival.
But Leon, seeing the two familiar faces starting opposite him, couldn't help but mutter a few warnings.
He told Khedira and Granero to pay special attention to the two forwards wearing numbers 19 and 20.
"I know about Michu. He's already got eight goals this season in La Liga—definitely dangerous. But that Diego Costa guy, wasn't he just back from injury?"
Khedira asked curiously, and Leon didn't say much—just told him to stay sharp.
Khedira didn't take it too seriously. His focus remained on the now-famous Michu.
But only five minutes into the match, Khedira had already paid the price for underestimating the other guy.
In a simple physical contest with the younger, unpolished version of the "handsome menace," Khedira was caught off guard.
After a brief body check, Costa won the ball and quickly turned to launch a forward drive.
Khedira, meanwhile, was left on the ground clutching his chest and abdomen, clearly in pain.
Leon, having seen the sneaky elbow from Costa with his own eyes, swore under his breath.
Seeing the ref make no signal, he immediately sprinted back at full speed.
With a tactical tug that clearly counted as a foul, Leon put an end to what could've been a deadly Rayo attack.
But he earned himself the match's first verbal warning from the referee.
"Ref, Diego Costa just threw an elbow at my teammate. You saw Khedira go down in pain—he's not the type to fake it."
"I make my own calls. Are you questioning my judgment?"
"No, of course not…"
"He was diving! And you're trying to defend your teammate? Please. The fact the ref didn't card him is already generous."
"Alright, both of you—shut it!"
Leon gave Costa a long, cold look, but didn't say more. He turned away and jogged over to check on Khedira instead.
"That bastard elbowed me hard! I swear I'm getting him back for that," Khedira growled, supporting himself on one knee.
Leon quickly waved him off, alarmed.
"If the ref catches you retaliating, you're getting booked. I told you to watch him for a reason—don't fall into his trap. Let me handle it."
"But—"
"Trust me, Sami. I'll drop back and track him. You focus on Michu's late runs."
Leon managed to calm him down in just a few words.
Originally, both of them had been playing deeper, with Leon mainly responsible for watching Michu.
But now, seeing how close Khedira was to snapping, Leon decided to swap roles with him.
Khedira reluctantly pushed a bit higher to mark Michu, while Leon moved in to stick to Diego Costa.
"What's the matter? That German kid already gave up? Now it's your turn to take me on?"
Leon heard the taunt but didn't take the bait.
Instead, he asked calmly, "Hey, has anyone ever told you you're quite good-looking?"
Costa froze. He turned his head, suspicious.
Leon's eyes looked utterly sincere, even respectful, leaving Costa visibly confused.
"You trying to flatter me or mock me? 'Cause I'm not falling for your little tricks."
"No, no, just a genuine question. It's just that—"
Leon suddenly stopped mid-sentence. In the moment Costa was distracted, Leon exploded forward, stepping in front of him and cutting off a pass from Rayo's midfielder Javi Fuego.
Costa reacted quickly and tried to win the ball back.
But the next instant, he felt a sharp pain in the soft flesh around his waist. He cried out and instinctively jumped back.
Leon had already swept the ball out to Granero on the wing.
Then he turned back, gave Costa a bright grin, and said:
"You might be better looking than me, but you'll never be dirtier—because I'm not like Khedira. I'm a true defensive midfielder."
The midfield battle between the two sides was almost identical to last season.
Real Madrid reinforced their defensive line through the center—tight and disciplined. Messi was allowed inside, but Leon would follow him relentlessly. As for Iniesta and Xavi? Forget about gliding forward together as they used to.
Essien, nominally playing as a central midfielder, was essentially acting in a pushed-up holding midfielder role today.
His job wasn't to man-mark Barça's midfield engines, but to harass, delay, and disrupt their buildup play just enough to throw off their tempo.
Di María and Benzema, both in the starting lineup, were also dropping back actively to press—bringing back that suffocating defensive pressure Barcelona hated.
To be fair, Guardiola wasn't without tactical counters of his own.
Today, both of Barça's fullbacks had been instructed to participate more in ball progression and wide-play transitions.
And even if Xavi and Iniesta couldn't coordinate their magic as usual, sacrificing one to pull a Madrid midfielder out of position and free the other to feed Messi could still yield better results than what they managed last season.
In fact, Leon had been discussed in pre-match talks between Messi and Guardiola.
And they came up with a new tactic—Messi would act as a decoy to draw Leon away, opening space for Alexis Sánchez to make deep runs into the vulnerable half-channels of Madrid's defense.
Messi would have fewer shooting chances under Leon's dogged marking, but it wouldn't stop him from making dribbles and key passes.
Leon couldn't possibly limit both Messi's shooting and his distribution.
So when Barça's setup started to click, Real Madrid found themselves under a real spell of pressure in the early stages.
Thankfully for them, Xabi Alonso's covering was on point.
Sánchez had a shot on goal just two minutes in after receiving a Messi pass—but after that, he was smothered.
Pedro got more touches in wide positions as a result, receiving the ball in several promising attacks.
But none of his crosses connected—neither Sánchez nor Messi, despite slipping past Leon once or twice into the box, could get on the end of them.
Pepe and Ramos were always one step ahead in cutting out the danger.
Mourinho watched Barça's new setup with a frown.
He quickly formed an opinion: he didn't much care for Guardiola's "three small forwards" approach.
Not because he thought Messi couldn't play through the middle—he could. Messi could attack from the left, right, or center, just like Ronaldo.
But just as Mourinho insisted on placing a traditional striker ahead of Ronaldo in any formation, Messi too needed a partner to draw defenders and create space.
The more time Messi spent in the congested center, the higher his risk of injury and muscular fatigue.
Guardiola could get away with this setup against mid-table teams. But against top European sides? It was like walking into battle missing an arm.
In other words, this might be the best configuration for maximizing Barcelona's current squad depth.
But Messi's threat level had dropped from 100% to something below 90%. And that 10% might not seem like much—until you're facing an elite opponent.
Then it's the difference between victory and defeat.
Madrid had Benzema charging the front and Ronaldo finishing plays.
Barcelona, meanwhile, had Messi charging the front and Sánchez or Pedro acting as finishers.
That kind of setup? Almost surreal.
No wonder Mourinho couldn't buy into Guardiola's tactics today.
And once Barcelona's attacking sequences began to break down, Real Madrid's counterattack machine switched on—and their backline started catching fire.
Dani Alves and Adriano's forward positioning helped relieve pressure on Barça's midfield and gave them width for transitions.
But without a consistent end-product up front, it didn't matter how far their fullbacks pushed forward.
No goals? Then they'd eventually have to face the defensive nightmare they created themselves.
Guardiola's original plan was to isolate Alonso and cut off Madrid's long-ball counterattacks.
What he hadn't expected was that today, Real Madrid had deployed a dual-core system up front.
Leon, acting as the secondary midfield hub, repeatedly launched quick, low-arcing long passes that caught Barça completely off guard!
Last season, that wouldn't have worried Guardiola too much—Leon's passing was decent at best back then.
But now?
Leon had grinded his long pass stat all the way up to an 83. Maybe not "perfectly accurate" yet, but definitely good enough for a top-tier La Liga midfielder.
Barcelona's flanks instantly turned into open plains for Madrid's wingers to gallop across.
Now Guardiola was forced to order a retreat—calling his midfielders back to help defend.
But up against Madrid's relentless charges and wave after wave of crosses, Barça's backline was stretched thin and torn apart.
As the saying goes: when you play against Barcelona, don't overthink it.
You go with defensive pressing, counterattacks, and aerial dominance.
Piqué was great in the air, no doubt. But he didn't have shadow clones—he was the only one in that backline with elite aerial presence.
Madrid targeted the mismatches: Ronaldo on one side, Benzema on the other, both looking to overpower the smaller Mascherano and Dani Alves.
In the 21st minute of the first half, Di María charged down the right and blew past Adriano, whipping in a cross.
Piqué, thinking he'd cracked Madrid's plan, sprinted to the back post to lock onto Ronaldo.
The confident smirk on his face froze the moment he saw where the ball was actually going.
Right into the center of the box—where Benzema was waiting, grinning from ear to ear.
Mascherano could've strangled Piqué in that moment.
"Leave the big center-forward to me? Are you insane?!"
The Argentine leapt with everything he had, but it wasn't enough.
Benzema had found his confidence, towering over Mascherano to deliver a crushing header past Valdés and into the net.
Boom. Another goal.
And another psychological blow to the already reeling Barça fans.
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