Chapter 301: Ronaldinho!

Words : 1520 Updated : Oct 13th, 2025

Conceding a goal right at the start was a terrible blow for Milan. And honestly, looking back on the entire season, Milan had hardly ever played from behind. Their Champions League journey had been smooth sailing, almost like slicing through tofu—utterly effortless. So, their performance under pressure was still a big question mark. And then there's Ronaldinho! How the hell do you stop this guy?! Suker was already breaking out in cold sweat. If even he was feeling the pressure, Milan's defensive line must've been sweating bullets. They knew he was strong—but not this strong. And with the game just beginning, while Milan were still finding their rhythm, Barcelona had already scored. A massive blow to morale! "Stay sharp!!" Suker clapped his hands, shouting out. "Boss! Foul him! Foul him! If we really can't keep up, foul him!" Suker could clearly see it—against Ronaldinho's lightning-quick footwork, even Maldini was struggling. Just now, Ronaldinho had made a lateral move, and Maldini couldn't keep up. That opened up a connection point in the midfield, Ronaldinho followed up with a through pass, and Samuel Eto'o made a sneaky run and scored. "We can't keep playing like this! This isn't working!" On the Italian commentary stand, Crudele was so nervous he was wringing his hands. His expression was full of anxiety. Conceding so early—it was a very bad omen. With this early goal, Barcelona's attacking rhythm would only get harder to stop. "Milan conceded a goal early on. They clearly weren't in the right state at the beginning of the match. Let's hope the Milan players adjust quickly." Aldo Serena also wore a deeply tense expression. If they couldn't settle down soon, it was going to be a serious problem. WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH—— The Barcelona fans erupted in thunderous applause—cheering not only for Ronaldinho but for Eto'o as well. They were the heroes of Barcelona! Suker brushed shoulders with Ronaldinho. He looked up at the buck-toothed Brazilian, smiling brightly with that bouncy ponytail—like a magical sprite of football. Then he looked down at Ronaldinho's legs. Muscular, coiled with explosive power. This was Ronaldinho in his absolute prime—his body unscathed by late-night partying, in peak condition. Suker exhaled slowly. "This one's going to be tough..." Soon, Suker was standing at the center circle with Shevchenko. "Get your head in the game!" Suker said firmly. Shevchenko grinned wryly. Suker's tone carried a tinge of frustration—and rightly so. Even Sheva couldn't control the turmoil in his mind. His form had been poor lately, disturbed by off-field distractions—it was a fact. He wanted to win, but he just couldn't get himself into the right condition. Looking at Shevchenko's expression, Suker let out a sharp breath. "So much for that sandwich. Might as well starve these bastards to death." Still, jokes aside—he had to focus on the match. First, settle the tempo. Tweet! The whistle blew, and play resumed. After Shevchenko passed the ball to start, Suker immediately played it back. He stopped drifting on the wings and instead began constantly moving side-to-side, trying to be available for passes. On the one hand, it gave teammates more passing options. On the other, it helped draw the opponent's attention. Suker found a space and immediately signaled for the ball. Pirlo delivered it right away. Suker received, shifted it laterally, and passed it to Kaka while turning to face forward. Kaka didn't push forward too quickly—instead, after a moment, he passed the ball right back to Suker. Suker switched sides again. Seedorf made an overlapping run on the wing, and Suker moved to support. When the ball was returned to him again, he passed it once more. For Milan, just conceding and still out of rhythm—it was critical to first stabilize the game. Suker wanted to help his teammates get their feel for the ball back. He kept dropping deep to collect. This time, as he received the pass, he was immediately surrounded by a pressing duo—Ronaldinho and Deco closing in from both sides. Suker kept tapping the ball with his feet, shielding it tightly, searching for an opening to pass. Eventually, Deco brought him down. Tweet! The referee's whistle blew—it was a foul. Even though Suker didn't manage to offload the ball, he hadn't lost possession either. Pirlo stepped up for the free kick, once again playing it to Suker. Suker continued to dictate the rhythm in the final third. He ran constantly, controlled the ball relentlessly. Even under aggressive pressure, Suker managed to protect the ball—he wasn't getting past defenders, but Barcelona couldn't take it off him cleanly either. They fouled him repeatedly to stop him—but since he wasn't in a dangerous position yet, they weren't panicking. "Suker has taken on more of the ball-handling role," Aldo Serena exhaled in relief. Earlier, Milan were completely out of sync—someone had to take control. He thought it'd be Pirlo or Shevchenko. But surprisingly, it was Suker who stepped up. "Suker looks in pain!" Crudele suddenly said. Of course he did! Suker was gritting through it. Barcelona's pressing was intense. He was being fouled again and again, getting knocked down repeatedly—yet he kept holding the ball. It stabilized Milan's rhythm—but at great cost to Suker himself. He got up again. This time, he looked toward Kaka. Kaka blinked at him, wide-eyed. Get your act together! Suker was exasperated. Was he supposed to do everything alone?! The veterans were all faltering. Among the younger ones, it was just him and Kaka. Kaka scratched his head. "Pass to me—or play me in. Create space so I can dribble." He was vague, but Suker understood. Kaka's dribbling wasn't suited for tight spaces. He needed room—he needed a runway! "Alright, wait for it," Suker said. Then he sprinted forward. By the 26th minute, Milan had stabilized possession, but genuine attacking threats were rare. Suker tried twice to play in Shevchenko—but once he blasted it wide, and once he was tackled off the ball. Shevchenko's form was clearly off. Brilliant all season long... But in this most crucial match—he collapsed. Suker was gutted. "Pirlo lobs it into the penalty area—SUKER!!!" Suker leapt into the crowd, attempting a header on goal. But under pressure from Puyol, he couldn't connect cleanly—the ball lacked power and was easily collected by Barcelona's keeper. "Counterattack!!" The keeper quickly rolled the ball to the wing. Van Bronckhorst received and bypassed Deco—sending it straight to Ronaldinho. It was clear just how central Ronaldinho was to Barcelona's tactics. When they had the ball, he was always the first option. He was the very heart of Barcelona's attack. Ronaldinho dribbled rapidly down the flank. Milan's defense struggled to recover in time. Pirlo rushed toward him, trying to slow the counter or at least delay it. But Ronaldinho merely nudged the ball wide and surged ahead—giving Pirlo no chance to intervene. Maldini stepped up to confront him. Ronaldinho passed toward the inside channel, then immediately ran behind Deco to receive. Deco pulled the ball back, and Ronaldinho surged forward, created space, and curled a shot toward goal. The ball arced beautifully in the air, curving toward Milan's net. At that moment, inside Stade de France, every Milan fan's heart seemed to stop. Smack! Dida dove desperately—just managing to tip the ball out for a corner. Phew~~~~~~~~~~! On the Italian commentary team, Aldo Serena and Crudele both let out a massive sigh of relief. Their hands instinctively clutched their chests—they could feel their hearts racing after that scare. "Brilliant save by Dida!" Aldo Serena exclaimed, then grimaced: "That curler from Ronaldinho—absolutely outrageous!" When had Milan's backline ever looked this helpless? Even in last season's group stage, when Barcelona beat Milan at home thanks to Ronaldinho... Back then, Ronaldinho wasn't this terrifying. Now, he was completely unstoppable. "The danger's not over—Barcelona corner kick!" Puyol and others surged into the box. Barcelona were committing numbers for this set piece. As the corner was taken, both sides jostled and battled for position. Puyol rose highest—ferocious header! Dida reacted swiftly—parried the shot into the area. In the chaos that followed, the ball was cleared out of the box. Everyone's gaze followed the ball. But to Milan's horror, Ronaldinho was already positioned at the top of the box—ready to strike. He met the ball cleanly—low and powerful. It zipped across the ground, through a sea of legs, deflected off Stam's ankle, and into the net. 35th minute—Ronaldinho scored with a driven low shot. Barcelona were two goals up. "GOAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!——" "Ronaldinho! The Brazilian magician! A phenomenal performance!" "A goal and an assist! Ronaldinho is completely dominating this match!" "Look at what he's done! Unreal! Even against Milan's legendary defense—he's tearing them apart, delivering two crucial goals!" "Barcelona lead by two in the first half—we're almost champions!" The Catalan commentator shouted ecstatically. Barcelona were just one step away from the title!

Chapter 301: Ronaldinho!

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