Chapter 201: How The Hell Did You Know

Words : 1548 Updated : Oct 3rd, 2025

AC Milan's first day of training camp attracted a huge crowd of reporters. It wasn't just the club itself that drew attention—there was also Suker, the genius player who joined with a sky-high transfer fee. Many were curious to see how Suker would perform at Milan. "There are a lot of people here today," Suker remarked as he turned to look at the sidelines, packed with reporters. "There are definitely more reporters than usual," Kaka said with a self-deprecating smile. "After all, we're the headlines now." Suker nodded, his gaze drifting to Shevchenko ahead. He'd already sensed something was off. When Shevchenko entered the locker room, the atmosphere subtly shifted. Conversations quieted down, and the joking around came to a halt. Everything felt... deliberate. The relaxed vibe from before was gone. Considering the earlier "champagne at halftime" incident, Suker's imagination started to run wild. "Kaka," Suker suddenly called. Kaka turned to him. "What is it?" Suker lowered his voice. "Don't get mad—I'm just curious." Kaka nodded. Suker asked, "The champagne..." "There wasn't any!" Kaka blurted out almost reflexively. He quickly added, "Really, there wasn't!" With that, he quickly walked away. Suker blinked.Why so nervous? Everyone moved out to the training pitch and began warming up. Kaka kept his distance from Suker, clearly not wanting to continue that topic. Suker didn't press him. Even if he got a straight answer, it'd either be "there wasn't" or "even if there was, there wasn't." So, Suker let it go. Especially during such a sensitive time. While they warmed up, the media trained their lenses on Suker nonstop. Compared to the other players, Suker was clearly the marquee signing. Naturally, the fans and media paid the most attention to him. Soon, training moved into small-sided 6v6 scrimmages. Blue Bibs: Suker, Kaka, Shevchenko, Maldini, Pirlo, GattusoRed Bibs: Inzaghi, Seedorf, Ambrosini, Nesta, Stam, Cafu Once the scrimmage started, the blue team quickly took control. Suker and Pirlo formed a deep-lying and advanced passing hub. Sometimes they even aligned side by side to share midfield duties. Compared to Kaka's all-out, high-speed style, Suker excelled in quick, one-touch passes and rapid reads of the game, applying tremendous pressure on the opposition. With Kaka constantly darting around up front and disrupting the defense, the red team clearly struggled. Suker didn't hog the ball. Instead, he fully integrated into the team play. Which was exactly what he needed right now. He scanned the field constantly. His movement created gaps in the defense. Pirlo felt the difference immediately—his burden was noticeably lighter. "Suker!" Pirlo suddenly called out. Suker immediately moved laterally. Pirlo slipped him the ball. As it approached, Suker used the outside of his foot to flick it gently, continuing to sprint right and dragging defenders with him. This created a vertical lane in the middle. Kaka appeared out of nowhere, charging straight through and smashing the ball into the net with a powerful outside-foot shot. "That was a beautiful setup!" Pirlo walked over and playfully tapped Suker's head. "We were thinking the same thing!" Kaka also came over. "You saw me, didn't you?" Suk ernodded. "When you faked that forward run, I knew exactly where to put the ball." Kaka grinned. "That pass felt perfect." The coaches on the sidelines smiled approvingly. "This is what front-line creativity looks like. Suker knows exactly how to connect with the team." "He's tailor-made for a playmaker role up front!" "He gathers information instantly amid chaos and creates ideal attacking conditions. He's playing brilliantly." As his assistants praised Suker, Ancelotti also smiled, his eyebrows twitching. And this wasn't even the end. Sure enough, the next moment, Suker feinted a pass, then suddenly pulled the ball back with his foot—executing a rainbow flick past Nesta and Stam. One quick toe-poke later, and the ball was in the net. It was a smooth, stylish move that completely fooled the defense. "This time he went for the solo play!" Nesta was frustrated. Able to pass, shoot, and dribble—with a sharp football mind to boot. First, Suker built a rhythm of passing to lure them into focusing on his distribution. Then he pounced with a sudden solo move. It was a calculated trap, flawlessly executed—frustrating to the point of madness! Thank God this was a small pitch. On a full-size field, with his speed, Suker would be terrifying. The media were stunned as well. They had a strong feeling— Since joining AC Milan, Suker seemed to have leveled up. Not just him—Milan's overall rhythm had picked up. Previously, Pirlo had slowly dictated play from deep. But once the ball hit Suker's feet, it was like sounding a charge—everyone suddenly surged forward with aggression. A mix of midfield organization and metronomic pacing. His one-touch passes were full of threat. He could dribble, break lines, and destabilize defenses on his own. Endless stamina paired with elite football IQ! Ancelotti's eyebrows started twitching wildly—almost like dancing. "That's the tenth twitch!" a coaching assistant whispered. "Didn't Kaka only get eight back then?" said the fitness coach. Another coach chimed in, "With this performance, even twenty eyebrow raises wouldn't be too much!" "Alright, scrimmage's over!" Ancelotti called out. "Clear the field!" Media time was up. Now came the real tactical training. The journalists understood—even if they wanted to keep filming, no team would allow that. Once the reporters cleared out, Ancelotti reshuffled the squads. A main team vs. reserves scrimmage. Ancelotti used a Christmas Tree formation: Shevchenko up top Suker and Kaka as dual attacking mids Seedorf, Pirlo, and Gattuso in midfield Maldini leading the defense Suker's role in this setup focused on organization, progression, and shooting. His main duty: orchestration. Which meant Suker had to drop deeper than Kaka to receive the ball. As the midfield pushed forward, Suker also moved higher to stretch the defense. He wasn't cocky enough to expect the top striker role immediately. Still, in the pecking order for shots, he was second—only behind Shevchenko. If Suker could replicate his Dinamo Zagreb scoring efficiency, Ancelotti wouldn't hesitate to make him the focal point. But that would be a gradual process. Suker kept dropping deep to receive and distribute. Maybe the main squad was too dominant, because Suker was thriving. "Not enough pressure," Ancelotti frowned. He wanted to simulate a scenario where the midfield was suppressed and Suker had to lead the attack under duress. But the reserves just couldn't challenge the starters enough. Only ten minutes in, Ancelotti blew the whistle. "Switch!" he called."Rui Costa joins the main team. Suker goes to the reserves. Reserves will channel all attacking play through Suker." Suker blinked.So that's how it is—time to crank up the difficulty! But Suker wasn't fazed. Let's play, then! "Filippo!" Suker approached Inzaghi. Inzaghi frowned. "Call me Inzaghi." "Got it, Filippo!" Suker replied with a grin. "You just make those runs. If you take off, I will get the ball to you." Inzaghi was stunned. This guy sure talks big. Controlling his ghost-like off-the-ball movement? Suker smiled. "No one in this world knows you better than I do." Inzaghi gave him a strange look. "I'm not—" "Me neither." Suker laughed. "Just make the run. If you do and I don't deliver, that's my mistake." Inzaghi didn't know where Suker got all this confidence. Still, he did need someone who could pass. Someone who could actually deliver quality balls. Might as well trust him once. Inzaghi nodded. "Got it." Suker clenched his fists. "Super Pippo! Let's go!" Inzaghi frowned, leaning back slightly. Why is this guy so damn familiar? Back on the front line, Inzaghi wasn't sure what Suker was planning—but he did need help. His spot in the starting lineup was shaky. With Shevchenko already ahead of him, Suker's arrival only increased the pressure. He needed a stellar showing to win over Ancelotti. When the match resumed, the main team pushed forward aggressively. Suker retreated deep into his half, covering in defense while constantly scanning his teammates' positioning. Inzaghi was a top priority. At that moment, the ball deflected off a reserve defender and landed at Ambrosini's feet. Ambrosini turned and passed to Suker. "Suker!" But Suk didn't look at the ball first—he looked at Inzaghi. Their eyes locked. Time to run! Inzaghi instinctively took off. Suker pulled the ball back with his right foot, spun halfway, and smashed it with the outside of his left. The ball sliced through the main team's back line like a blade. The weight and placement were perfect. Just as Inzaghi lifted his head, the ball was right there. Inzaghi—clean through on goal! WHOOSH!!! Ancelotti's eyes flew wide open. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. These two... have chemistry?! Facing such a surgical through ball, Inzaghi would never miss. He was the ultimate poacher. "Super Pippo" wasn't just a nickname—it was a brand. WHOOSH!!!The ball hit the back of the net. Inzaghi turned, pointing his finger at Suk with a stunned expression. How the hell did you know where I was going to run?!

Chapter 201: How The Hell Did You Know

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