Chapter 272: Who the Hell Is Bad-Mouthing Me?

Words : 1390 Updated : Oct 9th, 2025

This year's Champions League is hailed as the most prestigious competition in the past decade. Three teams, in particular, have demonstrated extraordinary form throughout the tournament. First, from the Premier League: Arsenal!Led by Arsène Wenger, Arsenal had just completed an unbeaten league season, though they were later challenged fiercely by Manchester United and Chelsea.But instead of crumbling under league pressure, the Gunners turned their sights outward. Wenger set his sights on the Champions League.With players like Thierry Henry, Robert Pirès, Cesc Fàbregas, Ashley Cole, and Freddie Ljungberg, Arsenal assembled arguably the most formidable lineup in their history.The Gunners' firepower was beginning to spread across Europe. Next, from La Liga: Barcelona.After the end of the "Dream Team I" era, the arrival of players like Ronaldinho, Eto'o, Van Bommel, and Deco ushered in the "Dream Team II" era.This Barcelona squad not only had exceptional individual talent but also a greater fighting spirit.It was like watching an African cheetah dance with a football wizard.Some media even said they had transcended earthly football Lastly, from Serie A: AC Milan.The Rossoneri had long been a dominant force in Europe.As one of the most successful clubs of the 20th century, they had reached the Champions League final twice in three years and won it in the 2002/03 season.Led by legendary captain Paolo Maldini, Milan were determined to build a dynasty.With new additions like Suker and Gilardino, their lineup gained even more vitality and firepower. These three teams all looked fearsome—just reading the lineups could give any coach a headache. The football world eagerly anticipated the matchups between them. As of now, the Champions League was at the quarterfinal stage, and the three giants hadn't yet clashed.But everyone knew: it was only a matter of time.Nobody seriously believed they'd lose and be eliminated early. The media was drooling over the chance to witness a collision of football titans. Meanwhile, in Lyon, tensions were rising. Despite their strong league form, Lyon were plagued by anxiety ahead of their next Champions League tie. Sure, Lyon had been consistently impressive in Europe over recent seasons—but they had to fight tooth and nail for every win.Their progress had been exhausting. Their upcoming opponent? None other than AC Milan, who had steamrolled their way through the group stage:5 wins, 1 draw—undefeated. In the Round of 16, they crushed Bayern Munich with an aggregate score of 7–1.The German media labeled them: "The Massacre Machine." With Milan showing such dominance, it was no wonder Lyon were nervous. "Yaaawn~~~" Karim Benzema, leaning on a railing, yawned and said,"Yesterday I played FIFA. I used our team against AC Milan—lost 8 out of 10 games!" Vukojević shot back: "That just means you suck at the game." Benzema: "Hey, I've got faith in my skills!" Vukojević rolled his eyes: "Then shut your mouth." Benzema moved closer. "Nervous about tomorrow's game?" "Nervous? What for?" Vukojević replied coolly."We're at home. Just give it everything we've got." Benzema gave him a thumbs-up: "You're always so calm!" Calm, my ass.Vukojević was terrified inside—but he didn't show it. Just dealing with Suker was already a massive headache.And that's not even mentioning Kaká, Shevchenko, Seedorf, or Pirlo—none of whom were easy to handle. Even back when he played for Dinamo Zagreb, their high pressing and tireless running barely disrupted Milan's midfield. Now that Suker had joined them, Milan's midfield was a fortress. As a defensive midfielder, the mere thought of marking Suker gave Vukojević a migraine. Smack!!!Someone slapped him on the back. He turned to see Dujmović standing nearby. "What are you spacing out about? I've been calling your name for ages!" Dujmović said, sitting down. "Just thinking about the match tomorrow against Milan," Vukojević replied. "What's to worry about?" Dujmović scoffed. "Just go and hack Suker down. Guaranteed to work!" "If it were that easy, I wouldn't be stressing."Suker's unique dribbling style made it difficult to even attempt a clean tackle. Miss the ball and you might earn a yellow card instead.And knowing Suker's attitude, that would only make him target you more. Just thinking about it made Vukojević shiver. "There's actually a way around it," Dujmović said, stroking his chin. "Remember that match against Red Star Belgrade?" Vukojević nodded: "Yeah, I remember." "Suker struggled in that game. Red Star used man-marking. You go man-mark Suker—he plays as an attacking midfielder, and he doesn't drop deep much. Just mark him as soon as he crosses the halfway line. It'll work!" Vukojević frowned: "But what about the other players..." "Screw the other players. Lyon's not short on defenders. If you can lock down Suker, the coach will worship you!" Vukojević looked tempted. In Dortmund, Germany... Mario Mandžukić walked out of a supermarket with a bag of snacks, phone in hand. "I've got the snacks ready. Can't wait to watch tomorrow's match—Vukojević and Dujmović vs. Suker. Loser loses face!" On the other end, Danijel Pranjić went quiet, then said,"Dude, we're the ones not even playing in the Champions League. Isn't that more embarrassing?" "What do you want me to do? Our clubs suck!" Mandžukić replied. "Dortmund still has a chance. But Southampton? Sigh..." "Come on, don't be such a downer. We've got a good show coming up. I even called Luka and Srna. We'll watch the game together and trash talk over the phone!" "Who do you think will win?" Pranjić asked. Mandžukić: "Are you underestimating Milan or underestimating Suker?" "As much as I'd love to see Milan lose and Suker screw up, it's not likely. Even if Vukojevićand Dujmović teamed up, they couldn't stop him. He's always been the best among us." "I agree. But if Suker does lose..." Mandžukić smirked. "Well, that'd be freakin' hilarious." Bwahahahahaha!!!Both burst out laughing over the phone. Back in Lyon, Suker, mid-training, suddenly shivered. "Who the hell is bad-mouthing me!?" He rubbed his arms and turned toward the locker room. Shevchenko was giving a pep talk: "Tomorrow, bring the intensity. Even though it's their home turf, we need to attack and take control—earn that win!" He clapped his hands to rally the team. As Suker passed by, Sheva patted his shoulder."Play aggressive tomorrow. Drive the ball forward." Suker shook his head."That's Kaká's job." "Kaká?" Sheva was surprised. Milan's build-up play was usually split between Kaká and Suker, with Suker actually taking more responsibility. Now he was passing the torch? "I'll be passing more tomorrow," Suker said. "Why?" Sheva asked. Suker grinned."Because two bastards are definitely going to mark me." He knew those guys—like a farmer knows his manure. Vukojević wouldn't let Suker have a moment of peace.Others might overlook him in Milan's star-studded lineup, but not Vukojević. Suker had already accepted he'd be man-marked the entire match. As for Dujmović, even if he made the starting lineup, Suker could probably turn him into a traffic cone. There might be some issues—but nothing he couldn't handle. In fact, he was even looking forward to the physical challenge. The next day, Lyon was engulfed in a tense atmosphere. With AC Milan arriving, this was Lyon's greatest challenge yet. As the sun set and night fell, Lyon's fans marched to the stadium in droves, chanting loudly: "Glory to Lyon!""Glory to Lyon!" Waving flags and shouting slogans, they filled the streets with a fiery passion, building the energy to a fever pitch. Inside Stade de Gerland—The roaring Lyon crowd was relentless, hoping to intimidate Milan. But these Milan players were battle-tested. They wouldn't be rattled. On the jumbotron, the camera cut to shots of Lyon players warming up.When it landed on Dujmović— "TOMI!!""F*CK YOUUUUUUUU!!" Suker was stunned. What kind of disastrous performance had Dujmović given to make Lyon fans hate him this much? "Jesus! All i did was score a few own goals and waste some chances..." Dujmović muttered to himself. Benzema added quietly,"Not a few—more like a ton." "Piss off!" Dujmović snapped. Benzema ran off, laughing.

Chapter 272: Who the Hell Is Bad-Mouthing Me?

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