In the 73rd minute, Robinho tracked back on defense and brought down Iniesta with a sliding tackle, earning a yellow card.
Forwards aren't exactly known for controlled defensive challenges—yellow cards come easy in moments like that.
Real Madrid took advantage of the pause to make a change, with Raúl replacing Robinho.
Raúl moved into the attacking midfield role, while Zidane shifted left to cover the flank.
...
In the 79th minute, Deco threaded a through ball toward Eto'o.
Casillas reacted quickly, rushing out to claim the ball before the striker could reach it. Without hesitation, he threw it out to Beckham.
Beckham immediately launched a long pass to spark a counterattack.
Su Hang dropped back to receive it, cushioning the ball off his chest. Before it even touched the ground, he flicked it up again with his foot.
Motta came charging in from the side to intercept, but Su Hang deftly juggled the ball past him with another series of flicks, sending it toward the opposite side.
Then Puyol closed in.
Su Hang turned his back, shielding the ball from Puyol's challenge, then lifted a blind lob over his shoulder into the penalty area.
That sequence of triple flicks sent the Real Madrid fans into a frenzy, their chants of the team anthem echoing across the stadium.
After all, if even the "iron-headed" Su Hang could pull off such silky footwork, what couldn't Real Madrid do tonight?
On the right wing, Figo made an off-ball run, cutting inside the box. He met Su Hang's lofted pass first-time with a thunderous volley.
Thud!
Valdés, knowing he couldn't afford to concede again, pulled off a heroic save—an absolute world-class stop.
Inside the six-yard box, Raúl let the ball run, choosing not to force an awkward shot and instead sending it back out from danger.
On the left side of the area, Zidane arrived right on cue, curling the ball beautifully toward the far top corner.
The shot arced perfectly—unstoppable!
"It's over! Barcelona is finished!"
"Zidane has lost his mind today!"
"Four–nil! Zidane with a hat trick!"
"Incredible! A 34-year-old veteran becomes the first player in Champions League history to score a hat trick in the final!"
"Zidane has written his own miracle!"
"Of course, credit to Su Hang, Raúl, and Figo too! He owes them a feast after this match!"
With that goal, the pressure lifted—at least for Real Madrid.
For Barcelona, though, every moment grew heavier.
Each pass seemed harder.
Every mistake felt fatal.
In truth, they weren't making more errors—it just felt that way because now, they couldn't afford even one.
By the 86th minute, many Barcelona fans had already begun filing out of the stadium.
But Iniesta produced one last moment of brilliance.
He dribbled into the box with a clever roulette move, collided with Helguera, and went down.
The referee pointed straight to the spot.
Penalty!
"Even though this goal won't change the outcome, it might at least salvage some pride for Barcelona."
"Otherwise, they'll break their own record for the heaviest Champions League final defeat, set back in 1994!"
"Back then, they lost 0–4 to AC Milan."
"And now, the nightmare returns!"
Thud!
Casillas dived like lightning, somehow saving Ronaldinho's penalty—the one bright light for Barcelona tonight.
And in that instant, you could almost hear Ronaldinho's heart shatter.
He dropped to his knees at the spot, clutching his head in disbelief.
Su Hang picked up the loose ball outside the box.
Motta immediately charged in to challenge.
The two collided fiercely, fighting for control.
Then, in a reflexive motion, Su Hang's elbow caught Motta, sending him sprawling.
The referee wasted no time—yellow card for Su Hang.
Barcelona won a promising free kick, but Ronaldinho, his confidence completely gone, didn't go for goal.
Instead, he opted for a short tactical play—only for Salgado to head it clear.
Xavi and Figo fought for the rebound at the edge of the area, the ball deflecting toward Real Madrid's half.
Ramos sprinted up to collect it and began to drive forward.
He carried it all the way to midfield before passing to Zidane.
Zidane lifted a delicate ball to Su Hang, who laid it back, and Zidane sent a through ball into Raúl's path.
Real Madrid's attack flowed calmly and methodically.
Barcelona, utterly deflated, defended with no conviction.
Raúl dribbled to the edge of the D, faced two defenders, and passed to the right.
Figo, running on fumes, struck with a final cold-blooded shot.
It wasn't the cleanest effort, but with both the defender and Valdés frozen in place, it didn't matter.
The ball found the net again.
Even Figo stood momentarily stunned.
This wasn't the same Barcelona from half an hour ago.
Barcelona... had lost its soul.
"Five–nil!"
"Figo's on the scoresheet too!"
"Barcelona has been completely torn apart! Both teams have just made history!"
"Barcelona breaks its own record for the largest defeat in a Champions League final—zero to five!"
"Oh! Su Hang raises his hand—five fingers out, gesturing proudly!"
"Five–nil! One open palm—one thunderous slap!"
"Copa del Rey, La Liga, Champions League—Real Madrid has crushed Barcelona across all fronts!"
"The Treble! Real Madrid has done it! Another record in the same season!"
Finally, with the referee's final whistle, three sharp blasts sealed it.
The 2005–2006 UEFA Champions League Final came to an end.
The stadium was a sea of white armor.
Real Madrid's entire squad stormed the pitch—
Treble winners!
The first of the new millennium.
The last to achieve it had been Manchester United in 1999.
Beckham's eyes filled with tears.
He had been part of both triumphs.
But "Little Becks" was now becoming "Old Becks."
He was thirty-one.
On the other side, the Barcelona players stood hollow-eyed and broken.
This was one of the few Clasicos in recent years without a major brawl—
and yet, the result hurt more than ever.
For years, Barça fans had claimed that Real Madrid's rough play disrupted their rhythm.
But tonight, who was really the one benefiting from the fight?
Ronaldinho, once so radiant, now stood motionless, lost in thought.
Iniesta clung to Xavi, sobbing uncontrollably—this was the most devastating loss of his career, without question.
On the sidelines, young Messi stood pale and speechless.
At the start of the season, the club had approached him to renew his contract—
raising his salary to one million euros and his release clause to one hundred million.
It was a statement of faith, a symbol of recognition.
He was destined to become Barcelona's future cornerstone.
Messi had taken pride in it.
Even Cristiano Ronaldo, the rising star at Manchester United, didn't have a €100 million clause.
It was a badge of honor.
But as he watched Su Hang celebrating with reporter Clara and rising actress Jennifer Lawrence, embracing them amid the confetti and cheers,
for the first time, Messi felt a sting of inferiority.
He believed that one day he could lift this trophy.
But deep down, he doubted he could ever shine brighter than Su Hang.
The three most decisive goals of the match had all come directly from Su Hang's influence.
Even if Figo scored five more like his final one, none would carry the weight of Su Hang's opening goal or first assist.
He was too strong.
This Real Madrid captain was simply too strong.
Was this... his future rival?
How could he ever hope to compete with someone like that?