Chapter 29: Li Ang's "Lucky Record"
Alonso's surprise—no, his outright shock—was entirely justified.
After all, anyone would be stunned to see a player who, just two months earlier, had only a surface-level understanding of how to orchestrate play and had never played that role in a competitive match, now suddenly reading and predicting the best offensive option on the pitch in real time.
It was nothing short of a miracle.
Because this was qualitative growth.
Not the kind of improvement that came from bulking up muscles, increasing sprint speed, or sharpening movements—those things could all be gained with specific training.
This was growth on a deeper level: a transformation in footballing perspective and spatial awareness. A leap in one's ability to read the flow of a match.
This was a breakthrough of consciousness.
After thinking it over, Alonso realized there was no better word for Li Ang's progress than exactly that: enlightenment.
To achieve such a level of understanding in just two months? In organizing the team's attack, no less?
Alonso could only conclude that Li Ang was a very particular kind of "genius."
But at that moment, Li Ang was completely unaware of the strange yet admiring look his mentor was giving him.
All he felt was pure joy.
Joy from finally seeing tangible results after two months of relentless study and grinding.
When it came to organizing attacks, Li Ang had never overestimated himself.
He had no innate talent in this area. Even after receiving Valerón's "Core Principles of Orchestration" fragment two months ago, he knew he couldn't just abandon his entire footballing framework and absorb a new system overnight.
His current footballing identity, his defensive awareness, and his habits had been shaped by years of repetitive training and the insights gained from Makélélé's "defensive positioning" skillset.
Six years of discipline and reflection had carved that into stone.
Now, adopting a completely different footballing vision would take time.
So he chose the most conservative—and some might say dumbest—way forward: mimicry.
Every day in training, he tried to copy Alonso's movements, his passing choices, his field scans.
And every night, he reviewed match tapes, trying to decipher the logic behind Valerón's orchestration.
Luckily, he had mentors in both realms.
On the field, there was Alonso to answer his questions.
And in his mind, there was the systematic breakdown of Valerón's habits and vision provided by the skill fragment.
From mimicry to thought, then to real application—Li Ang didn't think he was progressing fast.
But today, in this rapid-fire moment of transition between defense and attack, he saw the ideal route and reacted accordingly.
And for him, that was enough.
It meant he was still improving.
After Real Madrid broke the deadlock, the match settled into a rhythm Mourinho loved.
Auxerre had already lost their opening group stage match.
Now playing at home, they were desperate to salvage something—even a draw would do.
Conceding early wasn't in the plan, and they couldn't afford to simply park the bus for the next 20 minutes. Not in front of their fans.
So they opened up and pushed forward, switching to a more aggressive 4-3-3.
Madrid, reading the shift, strategically conceded midfield possession.
Li Ang and Alonso sat deep, maintaining a defensive line that kept Auxerre's ball carriers from entering the final 30 meters.
Khedira, however, was less active on defense. With his reduced coverage, Auxerre was able to find rhythm around Madrid's flanks and top of the arc.
That encouraged them. They pressed even more bodies forward.
It didn't matter that Madrid's double pivot was almost impenetrable—they had to try.
And when even Auxerre's fullbacks started bombing forward, Madrid knew it was time.
No more baiting. Time to strike.
In the 39th minute, Li Ang and Ramos sandwiched striker Oliech.
Li Ang poked the ball free and it bounced left to Marcelo.
Marcelo one-touched it down the line.
Alonso turned, barely glanced up, and launched one of his signature low, fast long balls.
25,000 home fans gasped in horror.
Madrid's counterattack was terrifying in its simplicity and speed.
Alonso's pass didn't even touch the ground before Benzema headed it back into space.
Higuaín—already in motion—held off defender Dudka, collected the ball, and immediately slipped it left.
Cristiano Ronaldo was already cutting in from the wing.
Li Ang watched the whole play unfold from his own half and felt a rare kind of peace.
Cristiano didn't miss.
From almost the exact same spot as his first goal, he used his left foot again, this time blasting a powerful shot.
It rocketed into the net, past Sorin's outstretched hands.
2–0, Real Madrid.
And it wasn't even halftime.
The Madrid bench exploded.
Mourinho relaxed.
"We've got this. Auxerre's done."
And he was right.
After being hit twice, Auxerre never recovered.
Even after halftime adjustments, their players couldn't regain the aggression or confidence they had early on.
Madrid could've put the game to bed much earlier, if not for Di María and Higuaín both "having fun" with their chances.
In the 74th minute, Li Ang was subbed off.
Diarra, newly recovered from injury, made his first appearance of the season.
Khedira was also replaced by the infamous attacking midfielder.
It seemed Mourinho still wanted to keep pressure on Auxerre's defense.
But the score stayed the same.
2–0, full time.
Real Madrid now topped Group G with two wins from two matches.
And Li Ang?
He extended what some Spanish media had jokingly called his "Lucky Record."
The gist was simple: every match Li Ang had played in so far, Real Madrid had won.
He didn't think it meant anything.
After all, Madrid had only drawn one league match—that's hardly proof of his mythical "luck."
But fans?
They believed it.
To them, it was fact: Li Ang equals wins.
The Castilla graduate was seen as a lucky charm.
How much of that was superstition didn't matter.
It was working.
Madrid-based media leaned into it, gleefully publishing fluff pieces celebrating the "lucky lion cub."
It was silly.
It was superstitious.
But it was very Real Madrid.
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