"Zinedine Zidane, the so-called French football king? You're as soft as noodles!"
"David Beckham, the heartthrob? What do you have besides a pretty face?"
"Luís Figo, the Portuguese star? You're slower than a turtle!"
"And you! What was your name again… Su Hang? The fact that you made the squad for this match is a disgrace to Real Madrid! It's the downfall of European football! It's a complete mockery of the sport driven by money!"
"You cost us the only title we had a chance to win this season!"
Inside the locker room, Real Madrid head coach Queiroz raged, venting his fury at the team's star players.
This was the 2003–2004 Spanish Copa del Rey final: Real Madrid vs. Zaragoza.
No one could have imagined that the Galácticos—home to three Ballon d'Or winners and six superstars—would be pushed to the brink by newly promoted Zaragoza. Real Madrid had taken the lead twice, only for Zaragoza to equalize both times and force the match into extra time.
After a humiliating season with no major trophies, the Copa del Rey was Real Madrid's only hope. Simply put, they couldn't afford to lose this match.
Faced with the coach's tirade, no one dared to speak up—until the sharp crack of a water bottle smashing broke the silence.
In the corner, Su Hang stood up, flicking water off his hands.
"I don't care how you insult the others, but I haven't even stepped onto the pitch. How can the loss be my fault?"
"In sports, being bad is a sin."
"If you lose, own it."
Su Hang knew full well Queiroz resented him. After all, he'd only made the squad because his father had sponsored the team.
He accepted the accusations of nepotism. But being blamed for a loss when he hadn't even played? That he couldn't accept.
"What did you just say?" Queiroz growled, stunned for a moment before gritting his teeth.
"Well, well! You think I'm definitely getting fired, don't you?"
"You're finished, kid! I don't care how much money your father throws at Real Madrid—I'm kicking you out of the youth team!"
"Get out! You don't belong in this locker room! You're garbage… and I'm insulting both players and trash by calling you that!"
Queiroz was losing it.
Then—bang!
Su Hang stormed over and slammed Queiroz against the locker.
Since he'd already crossed the line with Queiroz and his career prospects were shot, he might as well speak up for himself—and his teammates.
"Every time we lose, someone in here has to take the blame?"
"When Makelele left at the last minute last summer, didn't you see this coming?"
"Whose fault is that?"
"Blame Florentino! He paid the stars six or seven million euros, but wouldn't give Makelele even four!"
"Do you dare call out Florentino?"
"No—you don't!"
Su Hang's rapid-fire questions left Queiroz speechless.
Zidane's eyes narrowed.
Sharp. Brutally sharp.
Ssshhh!
The locker room erupted.
These words had been buried in everyone's hearts for so long, but no one had dared say them out loud. Not in this team—where anyone who questioned club president Florentino was kicked out.
Del Bosque, Hierro, Makelele… it didn't matter if you were head coach or team captain.
The air in the room turned ice cold.
It wasn't until Su Hang finally released Queiroz that everyone let out a breath.
Still, they all knew—Su Hang's outburst had sealed his fate.
What a shame…
The locker room drama didn't affect the match. Su Hang was still on the bench.
"Welcome back, everyone, to the extra time of the 2003–2004 Spanish Copa del Rey final: Real Madrid versus Zaragoza."
With the announcer's call, the battle resumed.
"In the 112th minute, Zaragoza star striker David Villa scores a crucial goal, putting them ahead 3–2! Just one step away from lifting the Copa del Rey!"
"The players are back on the pitch—let's see if Real Madrid can rewrite the scoreline in these final moments."
"There are eight minutes left—can Real Madrid protect their legacy as a football giant? Stay tuned!"
Su Hang continued watching. Even though this could be the last eight minutes of his Real Madrid career—or of his entire career—he still wanted the team to win.
Not because of any beef with Queiroz. But because he truly loved football. He loved the sport.
In the 118th minute, Portillo went down. After a quick check, the team doctor shook his head at Queiroz.
Portillo couldn't continue.
Queiroz turned to the bench. His gaze fell on the only remaining substitute forward, eyes gleaming.
Su Hang had a bad feeling.
"Su Hang, get ready to go on!"
Sure enough, Queiroz called his name.
The players around him froze.
Su Hang felt like he'd swallowed poison.
He had been fired up in the locker room. But now? He knew full well—he couldn't even handle youth team matches. How was he supposed to play in the Copa del Rey final?
Was Queiroz trying to publicly execute him in front of the whole world?
Cruel. Vicious. Su Hang had to admit—Queiroz didn't hold back.
But was it really worth sacrificing the Copa del Rey just to humiliate him?
Queiroz looked at Su Hang with contempt.
"What? Scared?"
"If you don't dare go on, then apologize."
"And I don't mean just say sorry."
"I want a ten-thousand-word self-criticism. Isn't that what you Chinese are good at?"
Bang!
Su Hang ripped off his substitute vest and slammed it to the ground, heading for the sideline without looking back.
"Screw it! I'll play! Worst case, we all go down together!"
His blood was boiling—not just for himself, but for his heritage.
He carried his own pride and determination. What did he have to fear?
At the sideline, the fourth official raised the substitution board.
Number 11, Portillo—off.
Number 24, Su Hang—on.
After a beat of stunned silence, the crowd erupted into boos.
"Who is that?!"
"Su Hang. An 18-year-old still playing in the U16 youth squad."
"Fuck! Tell me this is a joke—this is the Copa del Rey final!"
"Portillo was already useless, and this Su is ten thousand times worse!"
"This is insane! Is Queiroz throwing the match? He needs to be investigated!"
"Get Queiroz and Su Hang out of Madrid!"
Real Madrid fans raged.
But their fury changed nothing.
As Su Hang stepped onto the pitch, the game resumed.
"Ding! You have participated in an official match. The Ball King System has been activated. You have received the Moment Card: 'Cristiano Ronaldo 2016'!"