In the 42nd minute, Real Madrid's ineffective attacking sequences allowed Espanyol to push higher, expanding their defensive line until the Whites were forced back into their own half.
With Emerson unable to create anything, it was Cannavaro who unexpectedly launched a long pass forward.
For a top Serie A defender, elite passing out of the back is basic equipment.
Thud!
Van Nistelrooy leapt high, won the aerial duel, and flicked the ball backward.
But the next instant, he regretted it. He'd subconsciously treated Su Hang and Raúl as if they were that damn Cristiano back at Manchester United.
Despite Van Nistelrooy's personal dislike for Cristiano, he had to admit the truth: Cristiano's explosiveness, pace, aggression, Attacking Awareness, off-the-ball movement, and offside-timing were all world-class.
Raúl and Su Hang couldn't compare in those aspects at all—wait, Su Hang?
As Van Nistelrooy landed and turned toward the ball,
A figure burst forward like a startled rabbit, breaking past every defender and racing into a clear one-on-one.
White kit.
Number 9.
Su Hang.
He and the charging Espanyol keeper met head-on.
The ball hit the grass first, bounced upward—just slightly—but the moment it rose, Su Hang swung through and struck it cleanly.
Whoosh!
The ball shot straight into the net, sending white waves erupting behind it.
The Espanyol goalkeeper fell to his knees. Against Real Madrid's "strongest number nine," he panicked so hard he didn't even make a proper save attempt.
Meanwhile, Su Hang spun around and sprinted toward the corner flag. He wagged his fingers at the crowd, signaling them to join him. Then, as he leapt and spun mid-air in a perfect 180-degree turn, the entire stadium exploded:
"Siuuuuuu!"
"GOAL! It's in!"
"Su Hang! Su Hang again! That's his third straight season scoring for Real Madrid in the Supercopa de España!"
"He scored in the previous two editions as well—and both times, Real Madrid lifted the trophy."
"It seems he's set on securing a third consecutive Supercopa!"
"One-one! Su Hang steps up the moment Real Madrid struggles."
"He's the pillar of confidence for Madridistas around the world—as if, with him on the pitch, the trophy will never fall into anyone else's hands."
"And in truth, it has always been that way. In every title-deciding match he has played, he has come out the winner."
"He hasn't missed a single trophy in his career!"
"He's not just Real Madrid's strongest number nine—he's a legendary good-luck charm!"
Teammates rushed over to hug him.
Su Hang made sure to pat Van Nistelrooy on the head in thanks:
"Your headers are on another level. You're the most complete striker I've ever seen!"
Van Nistelrooy grinned.
On the bench, Modrić asked, "Isn't Su worried others might get upset hearing that? Like Ronaldo or Raúl?"
Zidane spread his hands.
"Did he say anything wrong? Raúl was never a center forward. And Ronaldo is the strongest, yes—but no one has ever described him as the most versatile."
"Versatility means sacrifice. It means being a brick—you go wherever the team needs you."
"And when have you ever seen Ronaldo sacrifice his style for someone else?"
"Van Nistelrooy's smile right now… he's just paying ahead for the tears he'll shed later."
Modrić blinked.
"Huh? What do you mean? Is Su Hang going to steal Van Nistelrooy's striker role and send him somewhere else?"
Zidane shook his head.
"The opposite. At Real Madrid, the center-forward role has always been hard labor. From Morientes, to Portillo, to Su Hang—it's always been like this."
"Su Hang secured his place by taking on that burden, but that doesn't mean he wants to play that role forever. His plans to change positions were so loud I could hear them even back in Paris."
"His finishing has always been deadly. If not for the target-man responsibilities weighing him down, his numbers would be even higher. And at the World Cup, he flashed tremendous speed and explosiveness. Him choosing to play as a winger this season isn't compromise—it's ambition."
"Skinny, study Su Hang's movement patterns carefully. That might be the key to your future as the world's top midfielder."
Modrić nodded quickly.
"You mean studying Su's runs? His dropping deep, his link-up, his vision—they're all incredible!"
Zidane snorted.
"No. I mean feeding him the ball. Make him happy."
"We might be about to witness the rise of a new breed of powerhouse winger—one with explosive numbers."
...
Beep! Beep!
The referee blew twice—halftime.
One-one.
Real Madrid's first half had been far from convincing.
On paper, Emerson's individual stats looked fantastic: most long passes, most short passes, the most shots, and numerous threatening passes.
But his advanced metrics and efficiency? Poor.
Capello already knew what needed to be done.
Inside the Real Madrid dressing room, Capello immediately issued his decisions:
"We played badly in the first half, but I won't blame anyone. This squad still needs time to gel."
"And for that same reason—so more players can build chemistry—we're making changes in the midfielder. Don't overthink it."
"Zidane for Emerson."
"Robinho for Raúl."
"Guti for Beckham."
When he finished, the three substituted players looked anything but pleased.
Emerson's face was stone cold.
Subbing out other players was understandable—but subbing out the midfield anchor?
That was the clearest sign of dissatisfaction possible.
He also genuinely feared Zidane might play brilliantly.
If that happened, Emerson would be fighting Diarra and Beckham for minutes—but both of them were role players, puzzle pieces. Exactly what Emerson used to be.
Raúl shared the same concern.
Even if right wing wasn't Robinho's best position, he was still a winger—his pace and attacking impact were something Raúl simply couldn't match.
Raúl did not want to become Robinho's backup.
He firmly believed there was still room for him in Real Madrid's attack.
Beckham's situation was different.
Capello had never said anything directly, but people could sense these things.
From the very first moment Beckham met him, he knew Capello didn't like him.
If Emerson was benched for poor performance,
and Raúl was benched because Capello wanted to test Robinho's chemistry with the team,
then Beckham's substitution was purely because Capello disliked him.
To make matters worse, after England's elimination from the World Cup that summer, Beckham had taken responsibility and stepped down as captain.
Then Steve McClaren, newly appointed England manager, kicked him while he was down—publicly declaring he would no longer call Beckham up, choosing youth instead.
He didn't give Beckham even a shred of respect.
In truth, even if Beckham's current form were ignored,
by the next European Championship two years later, he still would've made a perfect utility substitute for England.
By giving up the captaincy, Beckham had basically said:
"I'm willing to play a supporting role. I'm ready to contribute as a veteran."
But McClaren, lacking even basic emotional intelligence, completely misread the message.
Now, with trouble at the club as well, Beckham couldn't hold back anymore—his frustration showed clearly on his face.
And so he became the most visibly defiant of the three players removed.
Naturally, this made Capello even more displeased with him.
...
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