"Goal! Goal! Goal!"
The Spanish commentator shouted in excitement.
"A precious goal! A crucial goal!"
"That's Lionel Messi for you—he unselfishly passed the ball to Eto'o to complete the shot. 17 minutes into the match, Barcelona leads by one goal!"
As the ball hit the net, the entire Camp Nou erupted.100,000 fans roared with thunderous cheers, as if a volcano had erupted in the stadium.
Excited Barcelona fans leapt to their feet, their passion undeterred by the freezing rain.
The entire stadium echoed with deafening chants of "Messi! Messi!"
On the pitch, Suker paused.
Though he believed Xavi's through ball had been the most critical part of the play, the Barcelona fans only recognized Messi.
It was just like at the San Siro, where Suker always carried an aura of stardom.
For AC Milan, conceding this goal changed everything.
Now, they only had a one-goal aggregate lead.
And since Barcelona scored in the 17th minute, they had plenty of time to turn the game around.
Clearly, Guardiola wasn't some mediocre coach. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
The waterlogged pitch had given them huge trouble in the first leg, but they clearly came prepared for this one.
Just judging by this counterattack, it was obvious Barcelona had a game plan.
Meanwhile, Milan was missing Gattuso, their key defensive midfielder, making their defense significantly weaker.
Ancelotti frowned at the field.
He had placed Jankulovski and Ambrosini on either side of Pirlo, trying to cover Gattuso's absence.
But their coordination wasn't ideal—leaving Xavi a passing gap.
"Pirlo!"Ancelotti shouted from the sideline.
When Pirlo looked over, Ancelotti gestured down with his hand—asking him to control the tempo.
Pirlo nodded in understanding.
But... would controlling the tempo really help?
Suker and Kaká moved up toward the box.
"I'll drop back, you push forward," Suker said.
Kaká paused briefly—then understood.
Kaká's skills needed open space, which Barcelona would never allow him.
In a tight, congested zone, Suker had the advantage.
Kaká nodded: "I'll stay up front to receive!"
Beep!The whistle blew again.
As Milan kicked off, Kaká charged forward, while Suker first ran sideways, then cut back sharply.
Xavi trailed him closely, while Iniesta waited ahead, ready to intercept.
Seeing this, Suker understood Kaká's predicament.
Kaká was talented, but only in the right circumstances.
In this kind of dense midfield pressure, he couldn't thrive.
Suker looked back—and Pirlo looked up at the same moment.
Their eyes met.
Suker shifted one step sideways—and Pirlo immediately passed.
Pirlo's pass was pinpoint—landing right in stride for Suker's right foot.
Suker stopped it with his right foot, then suddenly dropped his body backward.
Sure enough, he collided with Xavi, preventing any immediate challenge.
Taking advantage of this, Suker used his left foot to make a quick pass to the advancing Seedorf on the left.
Seedorf sprinted up the wing.
Suker followed at a steady pace, constantly scanning the field.
Yaya Touré was glued to Suker.
Suker knew: they lacked attacking support.
Their full-backs couldn't—or didn't dare—push forward.
Seedorf was soon closed down and passed back to Suker, but Yaya Touré stepped in.
However, Suker moved quicker.
He darted toward the ball—forcing Yaya Touré to close in.
When Suker reached the ball, he positioned his body to block Yaya's vision.
Yaya saw Suker make a tiny hop—a subtle adjustment step—but without a weight shift, so he didn't react aggressively.
But in the next instant, Suker suddenly spun and sprinted.
Only then did Yaya realize—the ball had already been slipped behind him!
"When?!"
Yaya was confused.
From the stands—the God's-eye view—Barcelona fans widened their eyes.
They saw that during Suker's hop, he'd used his left foot to roll the ball through Yaya Touré's legs.
The move was hidden, elegant, and skillful.
It reminded them of the magical dribbling style of a football wizard from two years ago.
That's right—Ronaldinho.
On the pitch, after his turn, Suker immediately poked the ball through Xavi's legs, then passed to Ambrosini on the right.
Suker's dribble had been the key to the entire transition.
It was a beautiful play, but for the Spanish commentators, it sparked a sense of fear.
"We can't let Suker keep playing like this! He's getting too comfortable!"
For several seasons now, Suker and AC Milan had left a deep impression on Spanish clubs.
Real Madrid, Barcelona—they'd all been beaten badly by Milan.
And Suker had been the nightmare figure in all those matches.
If he was allowed to fully unleash himself—the opponents would have nothing but nightmares.
"Fall back! Fall back!""Get the ball back!"
Barcelona began to retreat as a unit, swarming toward Suker.
But Suker passed the ball again, running a few steps away from the box, then played a safe back pass.
Barcelona's players frowned.
When they pressed again, Milan passed it back to Suker once more.
This time he was near the touchline, and even though he was surrounded, he kept juggling the ball, until finally being brought down.
But Milan earned a free kick in the attacking third.
"AC Milan with a set piece up front... Wait, Kaká is taking it, not Pirlo?"
Though Kaká had taken free kicks recently, Pirlo was still the primary free-kick taker.
Maybe this angle didn't suit Pirlo, so he let Kaká take it.
But in the next moment, Kaká didn't cross into the box—instead, he passed sideways to Suker, who was already on the right side, ready to dribble.
"What are AC Milan doing? There's no real attacking threat here!"
Aldo Serena frowned—then suddenly froze, realizing:
"Wait a minute! Milan is stalling for time!"
At the same moment, on the pitch, Yaya Touré yelled,"They're stalling for time!"
Indeed—Suker's ball control and dribbling looked threatening, but they were all lateral movements, or passes across the field—just to burn time.
He thought he could get away with it for 20 minutes, but it was figured out in just 10.
But…
Can you take the ball from me? Suker resumed his dribbling—just playing around.
No fancy tricks, no high speed—just slow, meandering movement.
Whenever he was about to get surrounded, Kaká and Pirlo would come over—acting as walls for a one-two pass.
Once he escaped the press, he resumed the sideways dribbling or safe pass.
In other words: "I'm just messing with you."
Barcelona simply couldn't win the ball back.
Unless they fouled Suker, they couldn't stop him.
And with Kaká and Pirlo also strong at shielding the ball, the three of them toyed with the midfield.
Guardiola frowned.
From his view, these guys were playing "fake possession football" perfectly.
There was no actual forward momentum, but they used the full width of the field to dribble and pass—without losing possession.
If Barcelona's tiki-taka was a sharp blade, used to cut forward and penetrate...
Then Milan's fake possession was a mallet—not deadly in one blow, but relentlessly pounding until you felt frustrated, suffocated, and dizzy.
"We can't let them keep doing this!"
Guardiola shouted:
"Press up! Get that ball back!"
With their manager's command, Barcelona launched a fierce counter-press.
Even Suker started to struggle under pressure, barely managing to hold the ball or make a safe pass.
But even when Milan lost possession, Suker always ensured the ball went forward, not in their own dangerous half.