Chapter 273 - 273 – Seeing Ghosts

Words : 1493 Updated : Oct 9th, 2025

Suker also saw Benzema. The "15" was still a young lad at this point, clean-shaven, and looked more like a monk than a footballer. Suker didn't go greet Vukojević and Duimović—after all, they were opponents now, and such interactions might not be appropriate. After warming up, both teams returned to their locker rooms for final preparations. "All right! It's almost time for battle, guys—let's get fired up!" Shevchenko shouted loudly, "Milan!" "Let's go!!" "Shevchenko!!" "Freaking awesome!!!!——" Suker yelled the loudest. Both teams lined up on either side of the tunnel, waiting to walk out onto the pitch. Suker turned his head—Vukojević did the same. They exchanged a blink, a wordless greeting, then turned away. It had been over half a season since they last met on the pitch. But now, they were adversaries! WHOOOAAAAA!!!!!!!—— With thunderous cheers in the stadium, the players entered the pitch. The Stade de Gerland was drowned in a wave of deafening noise. This was the Champions League quarterfinals—the heat was turning up. From the ceiling, the iconic Champions League anthem echoed. In the center of the field, a massive football-themed TIFO unfurled. Along the front row and the press box, camera flashes went off wildly as both teams were introduced. The captains walked out to the center for the coin toss. Shevchenko, acting as Milan's on-field captain for this match, stepped forward. Maldini remained on the bench for this game. Starting lineups: AC Milan (4-3-2-1):Goalkeeper: DidaDefenders: Cafu, Nesta, Stam, SerginhoMidfielders: Gattuso, Pirlo, SeedorfForwards: Kaká, Shevchenko, Suker Lyon (4-3-1-2):Goalkeeper: CoupetDefenders: Clerc, Cris, Caçapa, AbidalMidfielders: Juninho Pernambucano, Vukojević, MaloudaForwards: Wiltord, Fred, Govou The first half kicked off with AC Milan in possession. Suker and Shevchenko stood at the center circle. The crowd was already unleashing deafening boos. As long as Milan had the ball, the booing wouldn't stop. Suker was already used to this kind of hostility. Shevchenko, beside him, was completely unfazed. "This is the 2005/2006 UEFA Champions League quarterfinal clash—AC Milan on the road against Olympique Lyonnais!" "As one of the first quarterfinal matches, can Milan secure a crucial away win?" With the commentator's voice ringing in viewers' ears, the match officially began. On the broadcast, Shevchenko tapped the ball forward, sending it across the halfway line, and Suk immediately chased it down and passed it back. After the pass, Suk charged into Lyon's half, where Vukojević quickly marked him. Suker glanced over—Vukojević grinned. Suker sighed inwardly. As expected, this guy was glued to him. Still, Suker wasn't in a rush—he had anticipated this, so it wasn't exactly a surprise. Vukojević blocked him off, cutting off any passing lane to Suker. Suker kept looking for opportunities, scanning the other side of the pitch. Suddenly, Pirlo lifted his head and locked eyes with Suker. Suker reacted instantly. He burst forward, leaned in to block Vukojević with his body, and Pirlo's pass landed perfectly at his feet. Can't push him?!Vukojević was stunned. He couldn't even budge Suker! Suker braced hard against him—those years of training clearly hadn't been wasted. Then, Suker feinted a side run, baiting Vukojević to follow, before quickly retreating to open space. He successfully received the ball and passed it out wide to Seedorf, who overlapped down the wing. Clerc closed in on Seedorf. Seedorf stopped and turned, instinctively thinking about passing to Suker. But Vukojević was still stuck to him. "Seedorf! Go at him!" Suker suddenly shouted. If their defensive mid isn't supporting, then it's a one-on-one—what's to be afraid of? Seedorf paused for a second, then dropped his center of gravity and suddenly darted down the line. At the same time, Suker sprinted into the box. As Seedorf's cross came in, Suker jumped ahead of Shevchenko. Vukojević failed to keep up. "Suker heads it!" Thud!! The shot went high—it didn't stay down and flew over the bar. Suker landed, shaking his head in frustration, and jogged back to help defend. What he didn't see was the expression on Vukojević's face—as if he'd seen a ghost. "What the hell!" In Dortmund, Germany, Mandzukic watched Suk leap for the header—and win it. In his memory, Suker couldn't head the ball to save his life. But now—what the hell was going on? And earlier, Suker went shoulder-to-shoulder with Vukojević and held his ground. In just half a season, Suker had developed physical strength—and heading? Ring ring ring!The phone rang. Mandzukic instinctively answered. "What the hell was that? Was that Suker? That was Suker?! He didn't dribble—he contested a header in the middle—and he won it! The world's gone mad!" Srna was screaming over the line. As Suker's former teammate and most familiar companion, seeing him win headers was like watching the apocalypse unfold. "Srna, how tall is Suker now?" Mandzukic suddenly asked. There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end. "180 centimeters?" Then both men fell silent. Their memory of Suker was of someone not even 170 cm tall. Sure, he had grown a bit—but they hadn't really noticed. Now, this guy was 180 cm. Back on Lyon's bench, Duimović's jaw dropped. Seeing Suker go up for headers was earth-shattering. "What's got you so shocked?" Benzema asked. "It's just a header." Duimović stayed silent. "Say something!" Benzema pressed. Duimović turned and snapped, "This is all your damn fault! Playing your dumb games! Jinxed everything! Look how things are turning out now!" Back on the pitch, after Milan's opening attack, their momentum built relentlessly. Vukojević was on the back foot. He was shadowing Suker—but not really neutralizing him. Even when he stuck with Suker, the guy always managed to get a touch and keep the play flowing. It looked like he was limiting Suker—but in reality, he was just being dragged around. "Vukojević is really struggling—he can't shut down Suker. Suker always finds a way to make a touch and link up Milan's attack. Even when he's being tightly marked, he still connects the front line." Suker dropped back and deftly nudged the ball forward with his instep, then turned—Vukojević was immediately on him. "You marking me won't help. Shevchenko is the real threat." Suker pointed at Sheva. Vukojević rolled his eyes. "Don't try to trick me. If we let you play freely, we'll be in even more danger. Shevchenko is the defenders' problem—you're mine!" Suker groaned. "What about Kaká? Not going to mark him?" Vukojević hesitated. "Still marking you!" Suker: "You're so annoying!" Vukojević was like Suker's shadow. They moved back and forth endlessly, Suker trying to shake him, but Vukojević stuck to him like glue. In their clashes, the victories were split. Okay—Vukojević won slightly more. At one point, Suker turned, and Vukojević knocked him down hard. "You really went for it, huh?!" Suker rubbed his calf as he got up. Vukojević said nothing—he had no choice. Suker's acceleration was too explosive. Fouling was the only way to stop him. But he paid the price with a yellow card. From here on out, his physical play would need to be more restrained. Lyon could afford to foul—but Milan absolutely couldn't give Lyon a free kick in dangerous areas. Why? Because Lyon had the free-kick king: Juninho Pernambucano. "Hold the line! Hold the line! Look for the counter!"Juninho kept yelling, visibly tense. AC Milan, as one of the three strongest contenders for the Champions League title, brought massive pressure. Their attacking power was ferocious—and their defense equally formidable. Their hallmark was balance. They didn't make mistakes. They operated like a well-oiled machine. Even under heavy pressure, when hemmed into tight corners, they could still find a way to switch the play. This was the power of a team with four number 10s. Pirlo stood over a set piece—Suker had already taken position in the box. Vukojević was still glued to him, leaving no room to sneak away. Back when they were teammates, Suk hadn't felt it—but now, facing him as an opponent, he realized just how much of a pest Vukojević really was. Thud!Pirlo delivered the ball. It flew toward the far post. Suker sprinted toward the center, trying to draw defenders and free up Shevchenko. Shevchenko leapt from the crowd, powered a header toward goal. "Shevchenko connects! Lyon defender Cris clears it—right to Juninho! Lyon's counterattack begins!" Lyon countered swiftly. With the crowd's roar behind them, they surged into Milan's half. But Milan reacted just as fast. They swarmed Juninho with a double team, cutting off his passing options. Gattuso and Pirlo applied heavy pressure—Gattuso stabbed the ball away and sent it forward. Right into Kaká's path. Kaká controlled it, turned, and faced the opposition's goal. "Here we go! Milan on the counter!"

Chapter 273 - 273 – Seeing Ghosts

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