Chapter 204: Istanbul Syndrome

Words : 1467 Updated : Oct 3rd, 2025

In the locker room, Inzaghi was hopping mad with fury. "Why didn't you pass the ball?! Pass it! I was wide open in front of goal!" Suker blinked his innocent eyes, confused. "What are you saying? I don't understand." "Not this again!" Inzaghi was absolutely livid. "So what, I didn't pass you the ball once, and you hold a grudge like this?" "I don't know what you're talking about! I don't understand." Inzaghi was trembling with rage. He took a deep breath to calm himself. "You don't understand Italian, but you can at least read hand gestures, right?" He pointed straight ahead. "What does that mean?" Suker clapped his hands and burst out laughing. "Shoot! Let me shoot!" "Shoot my ass!!" Inzaghi screamed hysterically. "I was wide open! No one was around me! I wanted you to pass! PASS, DAMMIT!!" Inzaghi was about to lose his mind. This guy was such a scoundrel! Anytime something didn't go his way, he'd pretend not to understand. Just like now: "What are you saying? I don't understand!" Inzaghi's whole face turned red, and he stormed out of the locker room. "Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh——!" Pfffft! Hahahahahaha!!! The entire locker room exploded with laughter. Inzaghi had been completely played by Suker. All because in the 78th minute, Inzaghi didn't pass to an unmarked Suker. After that, Suker never passed to Inzaghi again. Maldini looked at Suker, amused. He had a new impression of the guy: Petty. Grudge-holder. Of course, Inzaghi wasn't truly angry enough to fall out with Suker. He just needed to vent. At this point, Inzaghi was firmly under Suker's thumb. Nowadays, at AC Milan, only Suker seemed to possess the "How to Use Inzaghi Manual." When Suker passed, Inzaghi became a ghostly assassin. When Suker didn't pass, Inzaghi was just... a ghost. Suker rolled his eyes. That's what you get for not passing to me. You don't pass to me, I don't pass to you. He knew Inzaghi had a tendency to be selfish. But even when Suker was wide open, he didn't get the ball. So, Suker returned the favor. Doesn't matter who you are — Inzaghi or the "Ghost Striker." If I'm not enjoying the game, I'll make you disappear! Just then, Inzaghi re-entered the room, holding a phone and whispering sweet nothings. "Oh~~ darling, we just finished. I'll come find you right away. Okay! I love you too!" Suker couldn't help but shiver. The others were used to it by now. After hanging up, Inzaghi squinted at Suker. "That one you understood?" "What did you say—ow ow ow!" Inzaghi grabbed Suker's cheeks and pulled them out to vent his frustration. Once he'd had his fill, he let out a sigh. "Okay, fine. It was my fault this time. I'll pass to you next time — but you pass to me too, deal?" Inzaghi gave himself a way out. Suker nodded. "I understood that part." "You little rascal!" Inzaghi chuckled and ruffled Suker's hair. Soon, Inzaghi strutted off again — the classic ladies' man, always walking like he had a breeze at his back. He had up to five dates a day. Aside from training and games, he was either on a date or on the way to one. Kaká got up and patted Suker on the shoulder. "Let's go." Suker quickly followed — he was still hitching a ride with Kaká. Suker caught rides, and Kaká got free meals. The two had a bit of chemistry. After dinner, Kaká returned home, and Suker got a call from Modrić. "The Premier League has already started. The intensity is brutal, and competition for spots is fierce. But I've been doing well — Sir Alex is planning to give me my debut in the second-round home match." Modrić gave a brief summary of his situation. The Premier League had started earlier — August 13th for Round 1. Serie A wouldn't begin until August 28th. Suker, phone in hand, replied, "Same here. Our first game's away, and Ancelotti plans to give me my debut in the second game at home, in San Siro!" "Starting?" Modrić asked. "Starting lineup!" "You're amazing!" Modrić praised. "You've always been the best among us." "Don't butter me up. How are you adapting?" "Pretty well. We're still building chemistry. There's a bit of awkwardness, but games should help with that." He paused. "Rooney and Ronaldo have been pestering me — asking who's better, you or them." Suker chuckled. "What did you say?" "I'm not stupid," Modrić replied. "They're my teammates, so I said you each have your own strengths." "Nice work, Luka." "Haha, I've grown a lot — not just in football, but also socially." "Except with women!" "Go to hell!" Lying in bed, Modrić sighed. "I miss Dinamo Zagreb. I wonder how the others are doing?" "Duij doesn't seem to be doing well. French media's been bashing him," Suker said. "I saw that too," Modrić said. "But I'm not worried. Duij's tough. He'll bounce back." Suker nodded. "Let's hope so." "My mom's nagging me to sleep. Can't talk anymore. Let's hope we both have a great debut!" Suker nodded. "Good luck, Luka!" "Good luck, Suker!" After hanging up, Suker got a bottle of water and sat on the couch. The house was quiet and empty — a little lonely. He finally understood why Inzaghi kept going on dates. Staying home alone was boring. Shaking his head, Suker pushed away those thoughts and turned on the TV to watch a match. The new season was about to begin. And with it, his Serie A debut. He needed to perform well. He had arrived at AC Milan as a €30 million transfer and a Champions League Golden Boot winner. There were plenty of media waiting to laugh at him. Many high-profile signings had been labeled flops. Suker had no intention of being the butt of the joke. He needed to prove himself with outstanding performances. "The new season is about to start. Time really flies..." August 27, 2005 — The day before Serie A kicks off. Ancelotti announced the squad list. Suker made the list, of course. Since the first game was away, he wouldn't play. Ancelotti planned to let him debut in the second match — at home in San Siro. This would give Suker an early taste of Serie A's atmosphere. Currently, Serie A was still considered the most competitive of the top five leagues. Despite signs of decline, the "Seven Sisters" of Serie A still made for a fierce battleground. With giants like Juventus and Inter always lurking, things were never easy. AC Milan had just gone through the trauma of the "Istanbul Night" — a season with no titles. Now, they were under scrutiny. Everyone wanted to see if Milan had recovered from Istanbul's nightmare. And their first match? An away game against newly promoted Ascoli. A club that had mostly lived in Serie B, only promoted to Serie A for the third time. Their best result was 5th place in Serie A. Compared to AC Milan's glorious history, Ascoli's squad was worlds apart. Still, the media overwhelmingly favored Ascoli and mocked Milan. As the scapegoat for Istanbul, Milan had become the nation's punching bag. Only a few local outlets and loyal fans defended them. Others ridiculed and criticized. L'Arena di Apennino raged: "A bunch of gutless cowards — they don't deserve victory!" Inter-friendly media stoked the fire: "Pirlo's ability? Highly questionable. He was annihilated by Gerrard!" "Kaká? A genius? He's just fast, nothing more!" "Where is Filippo?" "This team plays walking football — a bunch of rich old men!" Smears and hate-filled articles flooded Italy. Milan was a target of scorn and contempt. Even many of their own fans had turned against them, brainwashed by public opinion. Only Maldini was spared from the hate. Everyone else was bashed. Even newcomer Suker wasn't safe. "Champions League's biggest 'flop' arrives in Milan!" Reading the papers, Suker trembled with rage. I haven't even played a match — how am I already a flop?! But this was pure malice — guilt by association. Looking around the bus, he saw all his teammates wearing dark, grim expressions. The atmosphere was suffocating. Istanbul had left a lasting scar. Under the weight of so much pressure and hate, could they really hold on? Kaká was panting heavily with rage, his face red. Inzaghi and the others looked furious. Suker had a bad feeling in his gut...

Chapter 204: Istanbul Syndrome

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