Chapter 129: Luka, You're My Natural-Born Midfield Partner
"3–0! Real Madrid Shatter the Dream Team Dynasty!"
"Camp Nou in Despair—Supercopa All but Over!"
"Coaching Chaos? Guardiola's Countdown Begins!"
"A New Era of Madrid Dominance Dawns!"
On August 23rd, after the first leg of the Spanish Super Cup came to a close, Spanish media wasted no time showering Real Madrid with praise.
Barcelona, who suffered what could only be described as a humiliating defeat in the eyes of their fans, not only lost the match—they lost much of the prestige they had built over the past few wildly successful seasons.
Sure, they'd lost to Real Madrid a few times last season as well, but they had at least shown resilience, making each match a hard-fought battle.
But this clash at Camp Nou? Real Madrid had made it look far too easy.
Of course, "look" is the operative word. The media wasn't about to mention Barça's two shots that struck the woodwork. Nor would they bring up how Iniesta's injury and early exit in the second half affected the match's rhythm.
The average fan, guided by sensationalist headlines and dramatic punditry, only saw one thing: a clean, emphatic Real Madrid victory and a broken Barça.
Exaggeration was, after all, the media's favorite tool.
When Madrid had lost 0–5 at Camp Nou two seasons ago, the press had gone on a similar rampage—except in the opposite direction. The tone now was almost a mirror image.
But Madrid's players weren't bothered by any of this.
Most of them had endured that period of ridicule and disrespect. They had made it through, and they had chosen the perfect way to respond—not with words, but with wins. Not with insults, but with silverware.
That's what competitive sports are all about.
Elite players all understood how the media game worked. They had to be ready for the backlash even before the match kicked off.
And maybe because they had already tasted the bitterness of defeat, not a single Madrid player showed any signs of gloating after the final whistle. No taunting, no provocations.
For Li Ang, however, there was something far more important going on than mocking Barcelona's demise.
Luka Modrić had finally arrived in Madrid.
With only a few days left in the transfer window, the Croatian midfielder had finally completed his long-anticipated move from Tottenham.
Levy had held firm at €37 million, and while Real Madrid certainly weren't strapped for cash, they found the constant bargaining a bit distasteful.
Had it not been for Modrić himself, who repeatedly voiced his desire to arrive early and begin training, even Florentino Pérez might not have signed off in time.
Without Modrić's insistence, this transfer might've dragged until the very last hour of the window.
Thankfully, it didn't come to that. And now, the man himself was positively beaming upon arrival.
On the morning of August 24th, Modrić landed in Madrid looking energized and full of excitement. His smile didn't fade for a second as cameras snapped away.
Having already passed his medical in London under the supervision of Real Madrid's team doctors, the onboarding process was quick and smooth.
A press conference was held that very afternoon. His official fan unveiling would take place the next day.
But Modrić wasn't the type to sit still and enjoy the fanfare.
After the press event, he headed straight to Valdebebas with a club staff member to begin integrating into the team.
Even though he hadn't started training yet, he met several of his future teammates at the training facility that same evening.
And among the crowd of clapping, smiling Madrid stars, one pair of eyes shone with particular warmth and excitement.
Li Ang.
Mourinho, for his part, was very pleased with Modrić's condition and spirit.
Though Luka hadn't trained much with Spurs in preseason and had missed the whole of Madrid's summer buildup, Mourinho still had full confidence in him.
And why not?
Madrid had a deep midfield rotation at the moment. Li Ang and Xabi Alonso were locked in as starters. Essien and Matuidi rotated the third spot. Even if Essien had to fill in at full-back, Di María could drop into midfield if needed.
So there was no need to rush Luka. Mourinho had both the time and the tactical flexibility to slowly integrate him into the side.
Critics often accused Mourinho of not giving young players or new signings a proper chance.
But come on—how could he, when every match felt like a final and his job was on the line every week?
Last season's treble had given Mourinho the breathing room he longed for. Now, with reliable depth in nearly every position, he could finally be the calm, composed tactician he always wanted to be.
No more barking. No more pressure to prove anything.
Let the media say what they wanted. All he needed to do was quietly raise three fingers.
He didn't even need to mention La Liga. Three Champions League titles with three different clubs in less than a decade? That alone silenced all doubters.
So when Modrić arrived, he wasn't greeted by a tyrant stressed out over results.
He was welcomed by the more relaxed, approachable version of Mourinho—one who actually had the time to give new signings his attention.
On August 25th, Luka officially joined team training.
His physical condition wasn't bad—he'd been keeping himself fit—but he still needed some time to get back to match sharpness.
Surprisingly, though, his biggest worry—whether he'd gel with the squad—turned out to be a non-issue.
The locker room was warm, friendly. But most importantly…
Li Ang had already latched onto him like a long-lost brother.
Well, "latched onto" might be putting it lightly. Let's just say Modrić didn't have much of a choice.
Within minutes, Li Ang was firing off jokes about London weather and English food, chatting away like they'd known each other for years.
Marcelo watched in silence. Benzema facepalmed. Cristiano Ronaldo chuckled and shook his head.
It had become a tradition. Ever since Essien joined during the previous winter window, Li Ang had always been the first one to "befriend" any new arrival.
His social skills were annoyingly effective.
Modrić couldn't fight it. Li Ang was calling him "Big Brother Luka" every other sentence and going on about how often he watched the Croatian national team.
Besides, they weren't even competing for the same position. If anything, Li Ang would be the one protecting him on the pitch—his shield.
So, like it or not, they were bound to get close.
That afternoon, after all the press formalities, Modrić even stayed behind at Valdebebas for extra training—with Li Ang, of course.
Afterwards, the two grabbed dinner together, laughing and chatting the whole way.
Photos of the pair leaving the training grounds together were snapped by journalists.
And the next morning, reporters were waiting for Li Ang at the gates, hoping to squeeze out some quotes about his new teammate.
Li Ang didn't dodge the questions. In fact, he seemed thrilled to heap praise on Luka in front of the cameras.
"Luka is exactly the kind of player we need right now. You're asking about his skills or his personality? Honestly, same answer: flawless.
He's a great guy. Calm but cheerful. Very family-oriented. In that sense, I think we're cut from the same cloth.
As for his football—he has everything we need: technique, vision, game intelligence, decision-making, passing range, positional awareness… you name it."
The journalists blinked.
This wasn't a comment. It was a press release.
You'd think Modrić was the gold standard for professional footballers.
Li Ang didn't care what the press thought. After his glowing speech, he happily drove away.
That evening, before kickoff for Real Madrid's second La Liga match, his quotes had already gone viral.
Modrić was stunned. He hadn't even realized they were talking about him until a teammate showed him the article.
He was named in the 18-man squad for the night, but he wasn't expected to play yet—he still wasn't at full fitness.
His inclusion was a message from Mourinho: This is our guy. He's here to stay. Don't stir up trouble in the media.
Modrić was genuinely touched by the support from both coach and teammates.
So, as the match kicked off, he watched with total focus, studying every movement, every habit.
He knew his playing time would be limited at first. So he needed to learn from the bench—absorb everything: passing tendencies, movement patterns, team dynamics.
He had played as the central playmaker at Spurs, but here, he'd need to adapt.
And adaptability had always been his strength.
Wherever he played—deep-lying playmaker or box-to-box—he would learn to complement his teammates, to "highlight their strengths and cover their weaknesses."
That's what he did best.
And on the pitch that night, one player in particular kept catching his attention.
Li Ang.
"Great defensive positioning… doesn't over-dribble… always a step ahead on covers… excellent passing timing…"
As he silently observed, one sentence from the previous day echoed in his mind.
Something Li Ang had told him, half-jokingly, after training.
"Luka, you're my natural-born midfield partner."
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