Chapter 166: Their Will Is Shattered—Arsenal's Dao Heart Has Collapsed!
Wenger was wearing a sporty cotton jacket with obvious side pockets today. So in his moment of frustration, he calmly shoved both hands inside—saving himself the added embarrassment of not knowing what to do with them.
"Should we pull our defensive line back a little?"
Arsenal assistant coach Steve Bould asked, clearly concerned.
That opening goal from Madrid had exposed the flaw in Arsenal's midfield setup. At least in the early stages, it clearly hadn't worked.
He believed an emergency tactical adjustment was necessary.
But Wenger, after a sip of water and a quick recalibration of his mindset, shook his head.
"No, we stick with our original tactics.
We may not be used to Madrid's counterattack rhythm yet, but if we slow down our own offense just enough—leave our midfield more time to reset defensively—we won't let them lead us by the nose. I think the boys can steady things.
Tell Bacary [Sagna] to drop a little deeper to handle Madrid's left flank. As long as Aaron [Ramsey] doesn't push too high, we'll have at least two midfielders available in front of the back line."
Wenger made a prompt decision.
Given the strength of Madrid and the presence of his old rival Mourinho, it was actually quite bold for Wenger to stick to his guns while still making measured adjustments.
Soon, Bould was relaying new instructions to the players.
Overall strategy unchanged, but with positional tweaks—this gave Arsenal's players a little more confidence.
At least it showed the manager had a plan. And he was still calm under pressure.
If the boss was composed, they had reason to fight on.
Over on the other bench, Mourinho had just finished enthusiastically celebrating with Karanka. When he noticed Wenger's quick adjustment, he was momentarily surprised.
But he wasn't worried.
He didn't believe any mid-match adjustment could change the final outcome.
Tactical tweaks couldn't solve personnel deficiencies.
If they could, coaches wouldn't lose sleep every transfer window trying to plug gaps.
The game resumed quickly.
And Li Ang, who had been active around the halfway line, instantly noticed Arsenal's shape had changed.
Sagna had tucked inside—that was obviously to track Ronaldo.
But it was Ramsey's shift that was more intriguing.
Originally, Ramsey was playing as a hybrid: helping with ball progression while joining the front line occasionally.
Now, it was clear Wenger wanted both Ramsey and Arteta to sit deep.
So who was supposed to push the ball forward?
Cazorla?
But if Cazorla kept dropping back to pick up possession, Arsenal's system would shift to pure possession-control.
He'd become the tempo-setter.
So who'd be the one delivering killer balls?
In theory, Rosický could fill that role—if he were still at his peak.
But constant injuries had dulled his edge. And tonight, under Madrid's midfield press, he was barely making an impact.
Li Ang recognized this immediately and eased off the press.
If Arsenal wanted to beef up the center to counter Madrid's attack, then there was no point in continuing to force things through the middle.
Ramsey sitting deep. Cazorla dropping.
Sure, they weren't pure defensive midfielders—but with more bodies behind the ball, that zone was no longer easy to exploit.
Li Ang and Modrić were both smart players.
Seeing no advantage, they switched tactics.
Instead of breaking through the middle, they started directing the ball out wide.
And that's where Real Madrid's true strength lay: the wings.
Sagna may have been told to sit deeper—but the 30-year-old was now forced to defend against a 28-year-old Cristiano Ronaldo in full flight.
Mourinho, watching from the sidelines, was pleased with the midfield's quick response.
Flexibility—that was the key.
So long as the changes stayed within the tactical framework, letting the players adapt to what they saw on the pitch wasn't a bad thing.
Tonight, Madrid's main plan was to attack through the middle—but switching it up to pull Arsenal's shape apart?
That worked just as well.
And then came the nightmare scenario for Arsenal.
Their defense had been reinforced through the center—but Madrid simply shifted their attacks to the flanks.
Vermaelen held up alright on the left. He'd struggled with injuries, but when healthy, he could still defend one-on-one decently.
But Sagna?
He was having a nightmare.
Ronaldo was getting every ball.
Li Ang and Modrić took turns launching passes to him.
The entire Madrid midfield was baiting Arsenal's defenders out of position—just to isolate Sagna.
Cristiano wasn't Messi.
He couldn't dance through four defenders in tight spaces.
But his pace, control, and power at full sprint?
Elite.
You could say his dribbling post-2014 had declined.
You could criticize him for being too flashy in his prime.
But in 2013, Cristiano Ronaldo in full flight was untouchable.
Sagna thought he'd get a one-on-one stand-off with Ronaldo.
Madrid had no intention of letting that happen.
They fed Ronaldo in stride.
Through balls. Give-and-go passes.
Pure speed.
Sagna kept up for a while.
But under constant pressure, he cracked.
He was eventually forced to foul Ronaldo—there was no choice.
Why?
Because lurking in the middle was Li Ang, ghosting forward.
And Benzema was right there too, waiting to pounce.
Arsenal couldn't risk letting Ronaldo slip past and lay it off.
A foul was the least damaging option.
Madrid lined up for the free kick.
The first one, taken by Di María from the left, was cleared by Mertesacker.
But just four minutes later, Ronaldo forced another foul out of Sagna—and this time, Ramos met the set piece with a thunderous header that slammed off the far post.
Arsenal froze.
Mertesacker was good.
He could win nine out of ten headers.
But against Madrid, that one missed clearance could cost you everything.
Ramsey was forced to drop wider to help Sagna.
And now, Arsenal's old problem was back.
The center?
Wide open again.
Even Cazorla was retreating, looking frustrated.
They were running out of answers.
Real Madrid's 4-2-3-1 had been dragged and stretched so effectively that it looked more like a 4-3-2-1 in practice.
Giroud couldn't even get a touch on the ball.
Podolski had to drop all the way into his own half just to collect and carry.
Forget about taking long shots—he could barely get any touches, though at least he was still on camera now and then.
Rosický? He had already become a ghost on the pitch.
In a game of this intensity and pace, his current physical condition just couldn't keep up.
Wenger was clearly troubled.
But with the match already at this point, holding anything back seemed pointless.
By the 31st minute, he subbed on Theo Walcott for Rosický.
Essentially, he'd burned a substitution just to stay afloat.
Even the Sky Sports commentators fell silent for a full two minutes.
They felt Wenger had been too idealistic in his tactical preparations.
He'd wanted to match Madrid's technical play, to control the midfield.
But Real didn't even try to outplay Arsenal with finesse—they just broke through with raw power.
Madrid's style was simple, direct, and brutally effective.
Physicality, stamina, momentum—Arsenal simply couldn't cope.
Last season's Barcelona and Bayern couldn't stop it, and this younger Arsenal team, facing a Real side built for high-speed blitzes, stood even less chance.
Arsenal's midfield defense was too soft. Once Madrid broke through, their front three were in Arsenal's face in seconds.
It was hard to watch. Mourinho had completely anticipated Wenger's approach—and didn't give him a single opening.
"Arsenal might want to start playing their own game now. Sitting back like this is asking for trouble.
1–0 is manageable, but if it becomes 2–0, Madrid will bunker down and hit on the break. Arsenal's position will only get worse."
Xie Hui, rubbing his chin, began analyzing in the studio.
From his perspective, Arsenal had to gamble. Defending was no longer an option.
Zhan Jun, however, smiled knowingly.
"But it's too risky to push forward now. Wenger and his staff probably want to wait until halftime to make major changes."
Zhan wasn't defending Arsenal's coaching team—he just understood Wenger's stubbornness.
Asking him to abandon his pre-game plan before halftime?
Near impossible.
If it were Ferguson or Bielsa in that seat, Zhan was sure they'd already thrown caution to the wind.
But Wenger was different.
He had a habit of sticking to his plan.
The fact that he'd already made a first-half substitution was surprising enough.
As expected, after that one change, Arsenal made no further tactical shifts.
Wenger still wanted the battle fought in midfield. He still wanted a technical duel.
But Mourinho?
He was all-in on blitzkrieg.
Li Ang was having a fantastic match—using Modrić's clever positioning to wreak havoc on Arsenal's midfield.
By the 35th minute, he looked fresher than the Arsenal midfielders who had been defending from the start.
He was too fast for them. Too strong in one-on-one duels.
And when they tried to swarm him? He had that slick short-passing ability to slip out of it.
Split the ball. Shift direction. Surge forward.
Arsenal's midfield line was constantly collapsing.
Arteta was suffering.
Ramsey? Cazorla? They weren't the kind of midfielders who could protect him defensively.
He was being stretched thin—just like Alonso had been before Li Ang's rise.
Trying to control the tempo while constantly scrambling to cover his partners?
It was a nightmare.
Arteta wasn't a defensive monster. And against a team as direct as Real Madrid?
There was no chance of comfort.
By the 38th minute, the pressure broke him again.
He misread a run and failed to track Modrić, who ran into the heart of Arsenal's defense off a through-ball from Li Ang.
Ramsey had just stopped tracking Ronaldo and was only now running back.
Groans filled the Emirates.
But Modrić didn't hesitate.
He slid a gorgeous grass-skimming pass right between Koscielny's legs—threading it toward Benzema near the six-yard box.
Mertesacker left Ronaldo to try and intercept, but Benzema wasn't greedy.
He laid it across the goal.
Cristiano arrived at the back post, calmly faked his shot to send Szczęsny sprawling, then slotted the ball into an open net.
2–0.
The sequence was textbook perfection.
Li Ang had pulled defenders out of shape with his pass.
Modrić's timing and vision were immaculate.
Benzema was selfless.
Cristiano? Clinical.
Modrić laughed and raised both arms toward Li Ang before they embraced.
Ronaldo hugged Benzema, ruffling his hair in appreciation.
With two away goals in the bag, Madrid no longer needed to press.
They shut it down.
In the second half, Mourinho rolled out the infamous parked bus.
He didn't care about appearances—never had, especially not in the Champions League.
Away from the Bernabéu?
Go conservative. Lock it down. Totally reasonable.
Wenger, who had finally decided to go on the attack in the second half, looked crushed.
He gripped the arms of his seat so hard his knuckles turned white.
"I knew it. That bastard was always going to go defensive. He made that decision before the first half even ended. I was a fool…"
His stomach churned with frustration.
That "old friend" he'd so kindly referred to at the pre-match press conference?
Back in his mind as that maniac, that scoundrel from their Premier League duels.
Arsenal vs. Madrid suddenly felt like Arsenal vs. Chelsea again.
One side attacking in waves, the other holding firm, waiting to strike.
If only Mourinho had a big center-forward to pin Arsenal's backline—it would've been a complete replica.
But even without one, Madrid had the upper hand.
No matter how fierce Arsenal's attack became, Madrid's defensive line held like a dam.
Then, in the 74th minute, Di María met an Alonso long diagonal and fired a low pass to Ronaldo.
3–0.
The Emirates fell silent.
Madrid had stayed vigilant from start to finish. They never relaxed, never got cocky.
Arsenal did have chances.
Walcott had burst past Coentrão in the second half and delivered a sublime cross to Podolski, who nearly volleyed it in.
Casillas didn't even react.
But the ball clipped the outside of the far post and spun wide.
As Podolski dropped to his knees and punched the grass, the home crowd heard something else:
The sound of their own hearts breaking.
Arsenal's beautiful, delicate technical football—
shattered against Real Madrid's brutal force.
Their will, their spirit, their "dao heart"—was broken.
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