CHAPTER 425: PEAK TACTICAL CONFRONTATION - HEYNCKES FRUSTATION

For the current Manchester City, naturally no one would think them inferior—nor assume that Real Madrid’s players would always outperform them within the right tactical system. Even if the individual abilities of Madrid’s stars were higher, that didn’t guarantee superiority against City.

On this day, Real Madrid’s midfield was set up in a diamond formation, with Redondo as the anchor—an epitome of elegance and control.

Seedorf and Karembeu operated as central midfielders, versatile enough to attack and defend with equal proficiency. Ahead of them, Raúl played a more advanced role, functioning almost as a second striker, able to both create chances and finish them. Under Capello, he had achieved terrifying efficiency, scoring more than 20 goals in a single season.

Up front, Mijatović and Morientes, last season’s striking duo, remained inseparable. By contrast, Šuker never seemed to click with Capello. The coach preferred Morientes: a tall, powerful center-forward who could hold up the ball, serve as a focal point, and still contribute with strong technical ability and surprising speed. Yet under Heynckes, Šuker thrived—his left foot so refined it was said he could practically play the violin with it.

"Hmmm." Richard stared at Manolo Sanchís, slightly lost in thought.

A Real Madrid legend, part of the famous La Quinta del Buitre that emerged from the club’s youth academy, he was the only one of its five members to spend his entire career with Real Madrid. His father, Manuel Sanchís, had also played for the club, and both were Spanish internationals.

Richard, to be honest, envied them and wondered when City would ever have such a legend of their own.

Just like Barcelona, Real Madrid was one of the two clubs he admired the most. In fact, even in the future, everyone would say that both clubs had already entered the mythical category of world football.

First, he respected how they upheld their core values without chasing profit. At least for Barcelona—before their "bankruptcy and corruption" troubles. Even as Real Madrid pursued international commercialization, their aim was never personal enrichment.

Everyone knew that both Real Madrid and FC Barcelona were run as member-owned clubs, called socios

. Their presidents were chosen through elections. Unlike most clubs, which were owned by private investors or even states, these clubs belonged to their members. Importantly, socios never expected dividends at the end of the season. The goal was always to generate revenue solely for strengthening the team and delivering the highest quality football to the fans.

This reflected the philanthropic spirit of traditional clubs. While other giants transformed into private property or profit machines, Real Madrid and Barcelona stood as rare exceptions in an era of football consumed by money.

Second, he admired how these giants dared to experiment. They could dismiss world-class coaches, break apart successful squads, overturn once-proven strategies... heck, Real Madrid even dared to challenge FIFA itself when their superstar failed to win the Ballon d’Or!

In football, self-sabotage is hardly rare—every club has its moments of folly. Manchester United, for instance, offers plenty of cautionary tales after the departure of Sir Alex Ferguson. But when it comes to clubs that have repeatedly endured chaotic cycles of turmoil and transformation, two names stand above the rest: Barcelona and Real Madrid.

If we assess individual skill, Real Madrid’s attacking prowess would reign supreme. In terms of defense... well, Manchester City truly stood out here. But when Real Madrid managed to snatch a goal in the first half, many believed they now held the upper hand.

However, Real Madrid is not Barcelona. When it comes to team chemistry, their combination of individual brilliance may have exceeded City’s, but in terms of overall cohesion, Richard believed City had the edge.

It’s no wonder that this season, while Madrid’s attack outshone Barcelona’s, they still trailed in the standings—their defensive record was the weakest among the top four in La Liga.

This is also why Richard told the players to play freely. He believed City had a chance only if they stuck to their own style. If they started worrying too much about containing Madrid’s individual brilliance, the path to victory would only become more difficult.

Although Madrid played well as a unit, they hadn’t yet reached an extraordinary level—especially considering that some of their future cornerstones were still unpolished. Players like Raúl (20), Seedorf (22), and Guti (21, on the bench) were still maturing. And look at the forward line: Raúl, Mijatović, and Šuker hardly contributed defensively, leaving the burden on Redondo, Seedorf, and Karembeu.

But Karembeu mostly operated as a right-sided midfielder. His hard-tackling style could make a difference, but what if City had focused their attacks down the left, leaving him isolated?

This is something Richard could highlight to praise O’Neill’s strategy.

Pirlo remained the orchestrator in midfield; every time he received the ball, three teammates were already moving to provide passing options. Even under pressure from Seedorf, he distributed the ball calmly and precisely.

Zanetti picked it up on the wing and advanced, with Redondo stepping in to press. Zanetti then slipped the ball across to Zidane, who brought it under control with effortless ease. A quick feint was enough to leave Raúl behind, and he surged forward, catching Madrid off guard. To the crowd, it seemed as though City were about to lose possession—but in truth, Zidane was in complete control, avoiding a safe pass-back that would have slowed the tempo.

When Raúl was beaten so easily, he initially sprinted to chase, but then slowed down.

Seeing this, on the touchline, Jupp Heynckes exploded in frustration, roaring, "Chase him! What are you doing?!" before kicking a bottle, which earned him a warning from the fourth official.

In training, Zidane often showcased his dazzling technical ability—not with unnecessary tricks, but with perfectly timed movements that unsettled defenders’ nerves and judgment.

For instance, when Raúl hesitated for just a split second, stepping forward to challenge, he miscalculated. Zidane dipped his shoulder ever so slightly and glided past, slipping cleanly through the defensive line.

Facing Roberto Carlos, Zidane stopped and crossed the ball to Larsson on the right. Without waiting to settle it, Larsson flicked the ball into the box and charged ahead. He found himself through on goal and struck a volley.

BANG!

Illgner was caught off guard, but Real Madrid were saved as the ball smashed against the outside of the post and rolled out for a goal kick!

The movement was breathtaking—so fluid that Los Blancos couldn’t even touch the ball. The fans in the stands were in awe, especially the neutrals, who knew television alone could never capture the beauty of such football.

Manchester City immediately launched a counterattack from the back, mixing wing play with central combinations, slicing through Barcelona’s defense with ease.

Applause erupted. Zidane jogged back, expressionless, positioning himself defensively just two meters in front of Raúl, while Larsson pounded the grass in frustration.

Raúl, surprised, suddenly found himself marked by Zidane—a role usually reserved for forwards! On the wings, Larsson also dropped deeper, squeezing Raúl’s space.

Meanwhile, Pirlo and Makelele double-teamed Seedorf, who liked to push forward. If Seedorf dropped back, Makelele would hold his ground, while Pirlo retreated deeper to assist the back line against Mijatović and Šuker, closing off their room to maneuver.

What the television cameras didn’t capture on screen, those in the stands and on the sidelines could see vividly.

Assistant coaches José Martín and Delgado Muñiz both wore serious expressions, frowning at the unfolding play, while Heynckes sat on the bench fuming.

City’s players showcased their organized, purposeful movements—tight connections between the lines of defense, pressing Madrid’s formation without overcommitting. If possession reached Madrid’s defenders, City’s forwards didn’t rush to press. But if the center-backs pushed forward, City simply compressed their lines, suffocating space.

With the heavy La Liga schedule and a recent match against Barcelona, Madrid’s players were struggling to find rhythm.

After Seedorf received the ball in midfield, he passed to Raúl, who had dropped deeper. The Spanish rising star was an excellent playmaker but lacked pace. Confident in his foot skills, and with Mijatović and Karembeu failing to create space, he chose to turn and take on Makelele—only to lose the ball easily.

"Dammi! Pass the ball, pass the ball!!!"

Heynckes gestured angrily on the sidelines, furious at losing possession so cheaply.

The ball rolled left, where Akalle beat Karembeu to it and sent it back inside. Pirlo picked it up just as Seedorf rushed in, but with a deft touch, he released Lennon. Lennon immediately launched a long ball into Madrid’s half.

Ronaldo, seeing City win possession, had already begun his run. He positioned himself perfectly, pressing against Salgado and Hierro. Madrid’s attack broke down abruptly at midfield, catching their players off guard.

As Lennon’s long pass sailed forward, Madrid’s defenders instinctively stepped up. Suddenly, the ball zipped over them, forcing a frantic race back toward goal.

Illgner, recognizing the danger, rushed off his line. Ronaldo rose to meet the ball with a header just as he crossed the halfway line. Illgner leapt, stretching his fingertips to deflect it, only barely grazing the ball.

Ronaldo shook his head in disappointment and turned to jog back—but before he could, disaster struck. Illgner, miscalculating his jump, couldn’t stop his momentum and crashed straight into Ronaldo, his arm smashing into the striker’s head!

Ronaldo wasn’t the type to dive recklessly, but when the chance of winning a foul was more than fifty percent...

"AAAAAHHH!" He let out a roar, collapsing dramatically.

The crowd exploded: "Heeeyyy~!" as they saw Ronaldo writhing in pain.

The referee rushed over, blew his whistle—

PHWEEEEE!

A red card!