Mourinho had been in touch with Guardiola a few days ago.
"Hey, Pep. Give me some hints on how to beat Real Madrid. I'm losing my mind over this. Is there an effective alternative to Woo Ho-young? He completely dominated last year."
Guardiola's response was blunt. "Are you kidding me? I'm currently immersed in New York life. Don't forget that it's because of you and Woo Ho-young."
Of course, he was joking.
It was understandable. Guardiola and Mourinho, both from Barcelona, had been close friends for a long time. Mourinho had been a coach back then, while Guardiola was still a player.
Now, as rival managers, Guardiola could have felt inferior to Mourinho, who had more titles to his name. However, at this moment, that was far from the case. Although their relationship had soured when Mourinho eliminated Guardiola's team in the Champions League quarter-finals, it had improved following Guardiola's retirement.
That was why Mourinho, despite his immense pride, sought Guardiola's help.
And after nearly three hours on the phone, he finally got a clear answer.
"Hire an assassin to take him out, then kick him off the field. That's your best shot at stopping Woo Ho-young."
"That's clear enough."
Funnily enough, that was the conclusion reached after three hours of discussion. It was an absurd answer, but Mourinho, having suffered at the hands of Woo Ho-young, couldn't help but empathize.
"Yeah. The premise itself is wrong. How do you stop a monster? The only way is to break his legs."
That was the end of their discussion on Woo Ho-young. Even two brilliant strategists couldn't come up with a solution in just three hours.
Still, Mourinho found some solace in the fact that at least he had gained some insight.
Then, Guardiola suddenly changed the topic.
"How's Italy? Is it a good place to live?"
"It's perfect, aside from the fact that it rains more than you'd expect. But still, less than England."
"That's one reason I don't want to go to England."
"But you need to experience all four major leagues. Why not come to Italy? It's not so bad here."
"If I ever go to Italy, it'll either be for a fashion show or just for fun."
"Then what about Germany?"
"Germany? If something happens that shakes the football world, maybe."
"Shakes the football world? What do you mean?"
"Well, when Ronaldo transferred to Real Madrid for 130 million euros, it sent shockwaves through Europe, right?"
"So?"
"This time, it could be even bigger."
"You keep talking nonsense. No wonder my hair is falling out..."
"Shut up, you baldy."
After that conversation, Mourinho poured all his energy into crafting a tailor-made strategy. He divided the 45 minutes into eight-minute segments, plus one for preparation, forming ten different tactical approaches.
Against a world-class team like Real Madrid, that level of preparation was necessary. Every tactic Real Madrid had used this season was analyzed, countermeasures were devised, and even the intricate 'circle-switching tactic' was studied in depth.
Thanks to this meticulous preparation, Inter's players gained confidence and performed well at the start of the match.
The first 20 minutes went according to plan.
But then, Woo Ho-young's hit-and-run play rendered everything useless.
It happened in an instant.
They conceded a goal before they could react.
Even five minutes later, it was hard to believe.
'He wasn't like this a few weeks ago.'
What the hell happened?
It felt like watching Usain Bolt dribble with perfect ball control.
'No way… how did he improve his dribbling speed this much in such a short time?'
It was absurd. If he had taken performance-enhancing drugs, that would have been easier to believe.
UEFA's DCO even announced a doping test the day after the match. But Woo Ho-young had never failed a test.
Guardiola's words echoed in Mourinho's mind.
The only way to stop Woo Ho-young is to break his legs and throw him out of the pitch.
A madman had appeared—one who was rewriting football's ecosystem.
Mourinho finally understood what Guardiola meant when he said football would be turned upside down.
'Damn it.'
The real problem was that Inter's sky-high morale had been shattered. Real Madrid was gaining momentum, and by the end of the first half, they had completely taken control.
The partial tactics Mourinho had prepared were proving useless.
Mourinho shook his head, forcing himself to refocus.
'If I lose my composure, it's over.'
At the 38th minute, he signaled for a tactical shift.
[Real Madrid's possession has risen to 66%, but Inter remains unfazed, focusing entirely on defense. They're dropping deep and staying compact.]
Inter concentrated on blocking Woo Ho-young's advances, using their numbers and maintaining distance.
[It's an interesting tactical battle. Real Madrid controls possession, but Inter dominates space.]
[That's right. Instead of pressing aggressively, Inter is blocking passing lanes. Meanwhile, Real Madrid is constantly shifting off the ball, with Woo Ho-young covering more than six kilometers already.]
[But this could backfire. It may just exhaust Real Madrid's energy.]
With no clear passing options, Woo Ho-young sent the ball backward.
Indeed, Mourinho's defensive system had real strength. He had come up with a countermeasure immediately after conceding a goal—proof of his tactical brilliance.
'Well then.'
Woo Ho-young adjusted his style. If the opponent used a different shield, he would bring out a different weapon.
Right now, space for fast attacks was scarce.
The 'Near-Miraculous Hit and Run (W+)' he had used earlier was astonishing, but its toll was heavy.
Maintaining dribbling speed close to sprinting speed drained stamina significantly and strained his lower body.
Inter's defense was waiting for him. Rushing in recklessly could lead to injury.
'Let's slow things down. We have control, so we can dictate the pace.'
Calmly, without urgency.
Don't fall into Mourinho's trap.
"I'm fine, so go up! I need more space!"
"Got it!"
Now, they didn't even need words. The midfielder moved forward, standing across the end line. It pressured Inter's defenders psychologically, preventing them from stepping up.
This helped Real Madrid regain their composure.
It was difficult for an attacking midfielder, but that was the burden of a playmaker.
Woo Ho-young accepted it.
'I'll cover as much as I can.'
Football is about sacrifice. If he ran more, his teammates would be more comfortable. If they played better, the team would win.
That was a true playmaker's role.
[42 minutes into the first half. The match has calmed down.]
[Yes, Real Madrid has escaped Mourinho's trap and is conserving energy. A smart approach.]
The game, which had been suffocating, gradually loosened up.
The spectators and commentators also relaxed.
[The first half may end like this.]
[Inter will grow impatient. Their counterattack strategy has been exposed, while Woo Ho-young is dictating the pace.]
Inter, not Real Madrid, was growing restless.
Mourinho was the one caught in the mind game now.
On the other hand, Scolari was giving instructions to his players in a relaxed manner.
It was truly the demeanor of a great coach who had won the World Cup.
"Damn it. We need to at least try to counterattack before the first half ends."
"But those guys don't attack at all."
It was a conversation between Cambiasso and Samuel.
"That doesn't mean we can push forward. If the line gets stretched, those guys will definitely exploit the space behind us. That guy from the science department will try to infiltrate, or Woo Ho-young will charge in like a madman."
"Fuck. Does this even make sense?"
In the end, the ones who could take action were the midfielders in the central region.
"Then there's nothing we can do. Sneijder and I will look for an opening, so be ready to push the line up."
"Okay. Let's create one. It'll put those Spanish bastards in their place."
They couldn't end the first half so passively.
They had to prove to themselves that there was still hope, even if they didn't score.
So Cambiasso and Sneijder started to move.
He moved stealthily like a burglar, waiting for an opportunity.
Hoyoung still had possession of the ball and was only exchanging short passes.
Then Cambiasso shook his head.
'No. Two players are too much. Woo Ho-young is strong even under pressure.'
Cambiasso glanced sideways.
Zanetti immediately understood the signal and stepped forward.
[Inter's third line starts moving up. Zanetti puts pressure on Woo Ho-young.]
Hoyoung tried to escape the pressure by pulling the ball back and securing it under his feet.
But then—
"Young! Watch out!"
[Sneijder rushes in from the side!] [Cambiasso closes in from behind!]
This happened just as Zanetti was pressing forward.
Cambiasso and Sneijder, both as tough as steel, lunged forward to challenge Hoyoung from the side and behind, respectively.
Meanwhile, the rest of Inter's players blocked the passing lanes in the front, sides, and back.
In other words, Hoyoung was like a rat trapped in a poisoned cage.
'I'll take it no matter what.'
Sneijder, charging from behind, was the first to reach him.
'Now!'
As Hoyoung turned his body to the left, Sneijder instinctively leaned in that direction.
And at that moment—
"...!"
A body feint.
It looked like he was moving left, but Hoyoung remained exactly where he was.
Sneijder, caught off guard, lost his balance and stumbled away.
The rear was now open.
Escaping the pressure with a simple back pass would have been enough.
But—
"Whew!"
Hoyoung, having shaken off Sneijder, now faced Cambiasso, who was stretching his foot in from the side.
Quickly, he rolled the ball with the sole of his foot, pretending to pass it back.
Then, in the very next instant, he spun 90 degrees.
Whoosh!
With that, he accelerated and slipped past to the side.
[Woo Ho-young's surprise turn! He escapes the pressure!]
Cambiasso was left stunned, completely outmaneuvered by Hoyoung's movements.
The moment he thought, 'What on earth is this guy doing?', Hoyoung had already broken free with his brilliant footwork.
A scoop turn.
It was named as such because it mimicked the motion of scooping up the ball. However, it was a move that only those who treated the ball as an extension of their own body could pull off effectively.
And it was a technique Hoyoung had relentlessly practiced and recently perfected.
Then—
Thud!
Completely shaking off the two defenders, Hoyoung sprinted down the right flank.
Zanetti, realizing the danger, hurried back to his position.
But it only took a few seconds for Hoyoung to drive the ball forward and slice through the right wing.
There was no positional overlap.
Robben, stationed nearby, had already infiltrated the box.
And then—
[Woo Ho-young surges in from the side! Cristian Chivu moves to block!]
[But Woo Ho-young keeps pushing through! He crosses at the same time!]
Right-back Chivu lifted his leg, trying to block Hoyoung's kick.
But the cross never came.
Swoosh!
[Woo Ho-young's Cruyff Turn! He fakes the cross and spins the other way!]
[Now he cuts inside to the left!]
A wide-open angle.
Hoyoung stopped the ball and focused all his energy on it.
The noise around him faded, and he felt as if he was in his own world.
Then—
Before Chivu could recover, he struck the ball cleanly with his left foot.
[Woo Ho-young crosses with his left foot!]
[...Wait, wait, wait?!]
Outside the penalty box.
The curling ball from the right flank wasn't a cross.
It was a shot.
Boom!
And—
'Yes!'
The moment the ball left his foot, Hoyoung felt it.
The fusion of King's Curl Kick (SU) and Noven's Curl Kick (U) that had been developing inside him.
The result—'First-Class Curl Kick (W+).'
Even though the synthesis wasn't yet complete, the power behind it was overwhelming, even to himself.
Struck with full force, the ball traced a mesmerizing arc through the sky, like a rainbow, and smashed into the upper left corner of the goal.
Crash!
No words were needed.
This was playmaking.