When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 112 So, I have to win every time.
In the 19th minute, after Monaco took a 1-0 lead, the momentum shifted.

Roy was completely ignited, and Eindhoven's defense began to scramble.

The match between Monaco and PSV Eindhoven is in full swing.

In the VIP boxes at the Stade Louis II, Nike executives were watching the game intently.

Nike Vice President Mark Parker was sitting in the front row of a private box with several executives, still holding a half-eaten hamburger in his hand.

When Roy once again outmaneuvered the PSV Eindhoven defender, he suddenly banged on the glass and shouted, "ALLEZ MONACO!"

The breadcrumbs in his mouth sprayed out.

In the 25th minute, Roy dropped back to midfield to receive the ball, made a clever turn to shake off Vogel's pressing, and then dribbled forward.

Facing Lee Young-pyo's comeback attempt, he suddenly stopped and changed direction.

A right-footed outside-of-the-foot pass found Rothen on the left wing, who swept a low cross across the face of goal, but Morientes' sliding shot went just wide.

In the 28th minute, Roy received the ball again near the center circle. Facing Lucius's close marking, he feigned a breakthrough to the left.

Suddenly Cruyff turned around, bypassed the defense, and then played a through ball that broke through the defensive line.

Giuly made a high-speed run down the right flank and unleashed a powerful shot from a tight angle, which was saved by Vorutz and went out for a corner.

32 minutes.

Roy and Rothen executed a one-two pass on the left flank!

He then dribbled inside, drawing Faber and Buma to double-team him, and calmly passed the ball across to Morientes at the top of the arc. The Spanish center forward cleverly let the ball slip through, and it returned to Roy's feet!

He took a touch and fired a low shot from the left side of the penalty area towards the near corner, but Vorutz dived and blocked the ball with his leg, sending it out of play.

Corner kick opportunity!

Giuly took a corner kick from the right, and at the near post, Rodriguez outjumped Von Lansen to head the ball on!
Morientes ghosted past the defender at the far post and headed in the rebound from close range!
2-0! Monaco extends their lead!

Morientes sprinted towards the corner flag to celebrate, while Roy smiled and pointed at Rodriguez, indicating the brilliance of the assist.

The PSV Eindhoven players stood somewhat bewildered in the penalty area, clearly still reeling from Monaco's relentless attacks.

Deschamps clenched his fist and waved it on the sidelines, while Hiddink, with a gloomy expression, immediately called Park Ji-sung to the sidelines for a private instruction.

The match continued, and Monaco's attacking onslaught showed no signs of abating.
The Voetbal Inside studio.

Hens slammed his fist on the table and shouted, "Monaco is going to devour PSV Eindhoven alive! Look at this second goal!"

Van der Heyden quickly analyzed the situation tactically: "Roy has completely disrupted PSV Eindhoven's midfield defense; Hiddink must make adjustments immediately, otherwise..."

Dirk suddenly pointed at the screen: "Du Chen, is Roy playing so well today because he knows you're here to watch the game?"

She was adjusting her cuffs when she heard the question. She paused slightly, then gave a helpless smile: "It's been more than half a month since we last met."

Her voice was soft, but her gaze unconsciously followed the red figure on the screen.

Sensing the awkward atmosphere, Hens quickly smoothed things over, saying, "Looks like you're really determined to prove yourself!"

Van der Heyden chuckled and joked, "Or is it simply a matter of trying to earn a ticket to Paris with a good performance?"

Du Chen didn't respond, but simply turned her gaze back to the live stream.

The camera was focused on Roy, who deftly controlled a pass from his teammate in midfield, and with a clever turn, he left Vogel, who was rushing in, empty-handed.

As he dribbled forward, the stray hairs on his forehead flew up with his movements, gleaming under the stadium lights.

"Look at that change of direction!"

Hens couldn't help but exclaim.

In the footage, Roy suddenly stopped and gently flicked the ball with his right foot, freezing Lee Young-pyo, who was defending, in place as if he had been frozen in place.

The moment he looked up to observe, the camera captured his slightly narrowed eyes and tightly pursed lips; his focused expression silenced the entire studio for a second.

Just as Dirk was about to make a joke, Du Chen said softly, "He has always been very good at letting football speak for itself."

Her fingers unconsciously rubbed the scarf, her gaze never leaving the tall figure on the screen directing his teammates' movements.

At this moment, Roy received the ball in front of the penalty area and made several changes of direction before suddenly sending out a hidden diagonal pass. Giuly rushed in and shot, but the shot was saved.

He shook his hand in frustration, a childish gesture that made Du Chen's lips unconsciously curl into a smile.

As Roy turned around, a close-up shot clearly captured his eyes, which were now filled with excitement and remained remarkably bright.

Monaco launched another quick counter-attack in stoppage time.

Rothen crossed the ball from the left wing, and the curved line found Roy inside the penalty area!

"A fish leaps to the top!!!"

Hens practically jumped out of his chair: "Wait! Roy? A header?!"

Van der Heyden's eyes widened: "When did he learn to head the ball?!"

The ball whistled past the post and flew out of bounds, causing the entire studio to erupt in chaos.

"Ow!!"

Hens, Van der Heiden, and Dirk simultaneously clutched their heads, collapsing into their chairs with a sigh of relief: "So close! Thank goodness!"

Dirk patted his chest: "My God, I thought he was going to break his 'zero headers' curse this season!"

Hens laughed: "The French team is going to break the 'no-fly zone' curse! Henry just scored with a header last week, and Roy is eager to do the same today!"

The halftime whistle blows.

Hens summarized: "Monaco led 2-0, but PSV Eindhoven clearly regained some rhythm in the final stages."

Van der Heyden analyzed: "Hiddink must find a way to limit Roy's space; Roy was practically untouchable in midfield today."

Dirk turned to Du Chen: "Should we call the locker room during halftime?"

She blushed and shook her head, but her right hand had already reached for her phone.

At this point, the director switched to a match report from another game in Group C.

"Breaking news," Hens said, looking at the screen, "Deportivo La Coruña leads AEK Athens 1-0 at home. In the 22nd minute, Forlán assisted Berenguer to score."

Van der Heyden quickly calculated: "In the current standings, Monaco is firmly in first place with 15 points from five wins. Deportivo has 7 points, the same as PSV Eindhoven, but is in second place due to their head-to-head record against PSV Eindhoven."

Dirk said with some regret, "This is getting interesting! If PSV loses today, they'll have to play Deportivo at the Philips Stadium in the final round, a 'whoever loses goes home' scenario!"

Deportivo La Coruña locker room.

Irureta slammed his hand on the tactical board, his voice booming in the cramped locker room: "Listen up, guys! Monaco are already 2-0 up against PSV Eindhoven!"

He surveyed his sweat-drenched players, his gaze lingering on Valerón and Pandiani for a few seconds longer: "Now is not the time to celebrate 1-0. I want to see more goals in the second half!"

Goalkeeper Molina, who was dusting his gloves with magnesium powder, looked up when he heard this: "Coach, PSV Eindhoven is doomed to lose."

"That means we'll be going to the Philips Stadium in the final round and going head-to-head with the Dutch!" Irureta slammed his fist into his palm. "But the prerequisite is that we have to win these three points today!"

Fran wiped the sweat from his face with a towel and suddenly interjected, "Even though the Greeks are all out, they're still so tenacious, pressing forward relentlessly."

"Perfect!" Sergio grinned, revealing his signature fangs. "Their defense turns as slowly as a tractor. Valerón, send out more through balls!"

In the corner, Duscher silently tightened his shoelaces, his eyes flashing with a fierce light as he looked up: "Let them see what a real midfield stalemate looks like."

Irureta nodded in satisfaction, then looked at Pandiani and asked, "Uruguayan, do you remember how you toyed with the Real Madrid defenders before?"

Pandiani touched his signature buzz cut and grinned menacingly: "Coach, just wait and see."

With the referee's whistle, the second half of the match began.

Hiddink had clearly made a targeted move during halftime, and the PSV Eindhoven players pounced on Monaco's half like tigers unleashed from their cages.

In the 47th minute, Robben suddenly started down the left flank, using his signature inside cut to shake off Givet, but Squillaci made a timely clearance to clear the ball out of play.

Hiddink stood on the sidelines with his hands in his pockets and a furrowed brow.

The veteran coach has already noticed that Monaco's defense is quietly tightening up.

Deschamps' reaction was more direct.

He stood in the technical area, constantly gesturing for the two defensive midfielders to drop back: "Pedretti! Protect the edge of the penalty area!"

Deschamps' shouts even drowned out the cheers of the home fans.

In the 53rd minute, PSV Eindhoven executed a brilliant combination play.

Park Ji-sung and Vogel executed a series of one-two passes on the right wing, and the South Korean suddenly delivered a low cross.

Kezman volleyed the ball at the near post, but Roma, falling to the ground, tipped it over the crossbar with his fingertips!
This attack drew gasps from the stands. The Monaco players looked at each other in confusion. Roy immediately ran back into the penalty area, clapping and cheering them on: "Focus! There are still thirty-five minutes left!"

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Hiddink pulled Feng Lansen to the sidelines and gestured rapidly with his hands: "You! Move up there and form a two-pronged attack with Kezman!"

His voice was a little hoarse, "Forget about defense, go all out on the attack!"

Just then, the stadium loudspeaker announced: "In the other Group C match, Deportivo La Coruña beat AEK Athens 2-0. Sanchez assisted Valerón's goal."

Robben suddenly stopped on the field and turned to look at the coaching bench.

His chest heaved violently, and sweat streamed down his face.

This winger, who is usually lightning fast, had a look of confusion in his eyes at this moment.

The situation is becoming increasingly difficult for PSV Eindhoven – they not only need to come back from two goals down, but also hope that Athens can force a draw against Deportivo La Coruña.

In fact, PSV Eindhoven was not afraid of facing Deportivo La Coruña head-on, but recently the team has had too many injuries.

With key players like Van Bommel and Bouma sidelined, the team had hoped to secure a draw against Monaco.

But Roy, this young man, didn't understand the principle of "knowing when to quit while you're ahead" at all, and launched a fierce attack from the very beginning.

Some Eindhoven fans in the stands were already shaking their heads and sighing; they knew that tonight was likely to be a disastrous night.

In the 62nd minute, Deschamps made a crucial adjustment.

He signaled Roy to drop back to midfield, leaving Morientes to lead the attack alone.

This change of tactics proved effective immediately.

In the 65th minute, Morientes received the ball with his back to goal near the center circle and suddenly flicked it with his heel to Roy, who broke into the penalty area and fired a shot from a tight angle. Morientes made a diving save to tip the ball over the crossbar!
"A brilliant counterattack!"

Deschamps clenched his fist and roared from the sidelines.

Meanwhile, Hiddink on the other side was furious, yelling at the players on the court: "Vogel! Mark that number 10!"

In the 70th minute, the match entered a heated phase.

Robben made several changes of direction on the left wing and suddenly delivered a 45-degree cross.

Kezman outjumped Rodriguez to head the ball, but Roma made another brilliant save!
The Monaco goalkeeper knelt on the ground and roared, "Second point! Pay attention to the second point!"

As expected, Park Ji-sung's follow-up shot was blocked by Bernardi's body.

The broadcast camera pointed meaningfully at Roy, who was bent over, supporting himself on his knees and panting heavily, his jersey completely soaked with sweat.

But when the camera zoomed in, people found that his eyes were still frighteningly bright, just like a cheetah that had smelled blood.

In the 75th minute, Hiddink made a desperate move, replacing Von Lansen with the 1.91-meter-tall center forward Hesslink.

The intention behind this substitution couldn't be clearer—PSV Eindhoven is about to start a flurry of crosses.

The Monaco players exchanged glances and instinctively tightened their defensive line.

After all, they had already secured first place in the group, so there was no need for them to fight tooth and nail against their opponents.

Roy even strolled back to his half of the court, waved to his teammates, and signaled them to keep the pace.

In the 78th minute, PSV Eindhoven indeed resorted to a long pass tactic.

Vogel launched a long ball from the backfield to Heselinck, whose towering Dutchman outjumped Squillaci to head the ball across, and Kezman followed up with a volley.

"boom!"

The ball slammed against the crossbar and bounced back!
A gasp erupted at the Stade Louis II, but the Monaco players simply shrugged, and even goalkeeper Roma didn't bother to complain.

Roy stood near the center circle, hands on his hips, his face saying, "Why bother?"

Deschamps calmly took a sip of water on the sidelines and remained seated, unwilling to get up.

He knew that no further adjustments were needed for this match—Monaco's goal was simply to finish the season smoothly, and there was no need to fight tooth and nail against PSV Eindhoven.

Hiddink was stomping his feet in frustration on the sidelines. His team needed to win to keep their hopes of advancing alive, but Monaco had clearly already "finished."

They've started to adopt Italian style.

In the 80th minute, Roy received the ball in midfield and, instead of making a breakthrough, simply passed it back, infuriating the PSV Eindhoven fans in the stands who cursed him.

Dirk laughed in the studio, "Monaco is treating the Champions League like a training match!"

Hens nodded: "They've already qualified, now they just want to save their energy for the league."

Van der Heyden joked, "Roy's expression seemed to say, 'Brother, don't push yourself so hard, we don't owe you any points.'"

Du Chen couldn't help but laugh out loud: "He'll definitely get glared at by Hiddink after the match."

In the final moments, PSV Eindhoven pushed forward with all their players.

In the 89th minute, Robben took a corner kick, and Heselink's header was easily caught by Roma.

Monaco's goalkeeper launched a counter-attack with a quick throw-in. Roy received the ball near the halfway line and suddenly accelerated, dribbling past two defenders in succession. Just as he was about to create a one-on-one opportunity, he was brought down by a tactical foul from Lee Young-pyo, who was chasing back.

Roy rolled over and got up, burning with anger, and shoved Lee Young-pyo onto the grass.

He immediately started rolling around exaggeratedly, clutching his leg and pretending to be in pain, while secretly glancing at the referee, looking just like a bullied little wife.

Roy opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but his mind suddenly went blank—English? French? Dutch?

Damn it, which phrase should I use right now?!

Finally, all he could manage to utter was, "Damn it!!"

Lee Young-pyo lay on the ground, looking utterly bewildered—what was this? A South Korean swear word?

The referee blew his whistle and rushed over, showing Lee Young-pyo, who already had a yellow card, a second yellow card without hesitation – a red card!
PSV Eindhoven had to play with one less player in the final minutes!
When the sign for four minutes of added time was raised, Deschamps used his last substitution – rested Evra replaced the cramping Rodriguez.

This substitution used up all the remaining time, and with Roy successfully protecting the ball in the corner flag area, the referee finally blew the final whistle.

In the end, Monaco held on to their 2-0 lead and easily advanced to the knockout stage as group winners.

PSV Eindhoven can only pin their hopes on a do-or-die match against Deportivo La Coruña in the final round.

In the VIP box, Nike executives raised their glasses in celebration.

They knew that another batch of Roy's highlights would be edited into the commercials tonight.

UEFA Champions League Group A Match Report (Round 5):

In the cold Glasgow night, Bayern Munich and Celtic battled to a goalless draw after 90 minutes. This draw left the Bundesliga giants with only 6 points, dropping them to the bottom of their group, while Celtic extended their unbeaten home run since August 2001 to 63 games. Meanwhile, French powerhouse Lyon suffered a 0-1 defeat to Anderlecht in Brussels, resulting in the unusual situation of three teams tied on 7 points in the group. The final round will see these three teams clash in a do-or-die match, leaving the two qualifying spots uncertain.

The fifth round of the Champions League Group B key match:
The San Siro witnessed a shocking massacre that stunned Europe – Inter Milan suffered a humiliating 1-5 defeat at home to Arsenal. The Gunners not only ended their nearly year-long Champions League away winless streak but also overtook Inter in the standings with this resounding victory. Thierry Henry's perfect performance, with two goals and two assists, showcased the flair of a world-class striker to Italian fans. In another match played earlier, Lokomotiv Moscow narrowly defeated Dynamo Kyiv 3-2, unexpectedly taking an 8-point lead at the top of the group. With the final round of matches, the largest point difference between the four teams in this group is only one point, making the qualification situation arguably one of the most chaotic groups in Champions League history.

Post-match mixed zone.

Reporter: "Roy, I just heard that Henry was involved in all four goals at the San Siro, helping Arsenal beat Inter Milan 5-1. What do you think?"

Roy's previously weary eyes instantly lit up. He stopped, turned to face the camera, and exclaimed in admiration, "Thieri? Ha! That guy is a monster!"

He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "Do you know how many years Inter Milan hadn't lost to an English team at home? 42 years! And what happened? He single-handedly crushed that record—two goals, two assists, treating the Italian defense like a training ground."

The reporter pressed further: "Do you think this performance deserves the Ballon d'Or?"

Roy burst out laughing: "Deserves it? Listen, if Thierry doesn't win the Ballon d'Or this year, then this award should be renamed the 'Best Runner-up Award'."

He gestured with his hands, "Look at what he's done this season—top of the Premier League scoring charts, carried the whole team in a crucial Champions League match, and put on a masterclass performance at the San Siro today. Some people play to win, but Thierry plays to give defenders nightmares."

He paused, then added, "I bet every defender in Europe trembles at the mere mention of his name. You journalists always love to talk about 'the best in the world,' but in my opinion, when Thierry is in top form, there's no need to discuss that question; he is."

After saying that, Roy winked at the camera: "Give him a message for me, 'Old man, leave me some records to break!'"

November 27, 2003, Monaco training base.

Roy had just finished his morning training session when his phone rang.

He wiped his sweat and pressed the answer button: "Hello?"

"It's me, Santini." The voice of the French national team coach came from the other end of the phone. "At the European Championship draw ceremony on the 29th, the Football Association has decided to send you to Portugal as a player representative."

Roy was taken aback: "Saturday? But we're playing Nantes away that day."

“I know,” Santini said firmly, “but it was personally recommended by the top officials of the Football Association. He said that all of Europe is talking about your Champions League performance, and the French team needs this new face.”

Roy frowned and looked at Deschamps, who was talking to his assistant coach on the sidelines: "The coach probably won't let him go."

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Santini interrupted. “The Football Association will communicate directly with Monaco. You should prepare a more formal suit; they’re filming a promotional video in Lisbon.”

November 29, 2003, Atlantic Exhibition Hall, Lisbon.

The modern pavilion, built for the 1998 World Expo, is brightly lit tonight, its massive glass facade reflecting the Lisbon night sky.

The red carpet stretched from the entrance all the way to the main venue, with security personnel on high alert, conducting strict checks on every guest entering the venue.

The French delegation's motorcade slowly came to a stop at the entrance.

As soon as the car door opened, French Football Federation President Diego Simeone stepped out first, dressed in a sharp dark blue suit, the tricolor badge on his tie particularly eye-catching under the lights. He turned slightly and nodded into the car.

The car door opened, and Blanc stepped out slowly. The captain of the 2000 European Championship-winning team didn't directly hold the trophy; instead, he stood between two security personnel, his gaze fixed on the bulletproof glass display case they were carrying. The Henri Delaunay Trophy inside gleamed under the flashing lights, its silvery sheen seemingly carrying the memories of Rotterdam three years prior.

The car door slowly opened, and Roy was the first to step out. He straightened the collar of his navy blue suit and stood upright on the left side of the red carpet, his young face radiating calm confidence.

Zidane then got out of the car and naturally stood in the middle.

A section of his white shirt peeked out from the cuff of his black suit, his fingers unconsciously stroking the top of his shiny head, his gaze steady as he looked ahead.

Henry was the last to get off the train, and as he stood on the right, he straightened his crooked tie.

He winked at a passing hostess, a signature smirk playing on his lips.

The three stood in a row in perfect unison, Roy on the left, Zidane in the middle, and Henry on the right.

Under the spotlight, they strode towards the venue.

Roy's steps were steady and powerful, Zidane walked slowly with his hands behind his back, and Henry waved to the cameras on both sides from time to time.

Three figures cast long shadows on the red carpet, gradually blending into the dazzling lights of the venue.

The exhibition hall was bustling with people, and more than 2000 invited guests took their seats one after another.

Representatives from the 16 participating teams' football associations, UEFA officials, high-ranking Portuguese government officials, and nearly 700 journalists from around the world filled the venue.

Cameras, spotlights, and microphone stands were densely set up in the media area, and reporters chatted in hushed tones, waiting for the ceremony to begin.

UEFA President Johansson, who was supposed to preside over the ceremony, was unable to attend due to health reasons.

Although the 73-year-old Swedish man is absent, his influence remains – he will still personally attend the draw for the 2006 World Cup qualifiers next week.

Tonight's ceremony was co-hosted by UEFA Chief Executive Gerhard Eigner and his successor, the Swede Lars Christ Olsson.

The lights in the venue dimmed, and the large screen lit up, playing a promotional video for the 2004 European Championship.

Portuguese Deputy Prime Minister Arnault took the stage first to deliver a speech, followed by Portuguese Football Federation President Mader, who introduced the preparations for the tournament to the audience.

Backstage, staff were doing a final check of the lottery process to ensure that every step went perfectly.

The Henri Delaunay Trophy was carefully placed on a specially made display stand, awaiting its formal handover by Blanc later.

As the lights dimmed, UEFA CEO Aigner slowly walked onto the podium.

The outgoing official cleared his throat and began to read out the grading rules and the lottery process.

The draw for the 2004 European Championship used a unique "reverse draw method". First, the 16 teams were divided into four pots according to their qualifying results. The host country Portugal was automatically locked into the first pot of Group A. The other three first pot teams (France, Sweden, and Czech Republic) were mechanically assigned to Groups B, C, and D in alphabetical order of their country names. This part of the arrangement was completely predictable and without any suspense.

The real drama lies in the draw process for the last three tiers: starting from the fourth tier, the draw proceeds in reverse order to first determine the "weakest opponent" in each group. Then, the third tier draw may create "hidden strong opponents" (such as the strong Dutch team that fell into the third tier). Finally, the second tier draw determines the composition of the "group of death." This progressive draw method ensures fairness while maximizing suspense and excitement.

The spotlight shone on the center of the stage, and UEFA General Secretary Aigner cleared his throat: "First, please allow me to introduce tonight's draw guests."

He gestured to the side, “Portuguese legend Eusebio, Newcastle midfielder Vienna, French legend Blanc, and my colleague Olsson.”

The four guests took the stage amidst applause.

Eusebio, dressed in a sharp black suit, smiled; Blanco stood calmly to the side, his hands clasped together.

The fourth tier will be determined by drawing lots.

Eusébio walked slowly toward the transparent lottery ball and gently stirred the small ball in the glass tank.

“Switzerland,” he announced, “Group A.”

Portuguese Football Federation President Madal nodded slightly, indicating his satisfaction with the result.

When the results for "Bulgaria, Group B" were announced, French coach Santini's lips twitched almost imperceptibly.

The area where the French delegation was located fell silent instantly.

Assistant coach Domenech quickly flipped through the notebook, his finger rapidly tracing the Bulgarian team's record—this Eastern European team had narrowly missed out on qualifying for fourth place, and their counter-attacking tactics had caused many strong teams considerable trouble.

After the groups of "Latvia, Group C" and "Greece, Group D" were determined, Czech coach Brückner visibly breathed a sigh of relief.

The third draw.

When Blanco took out the first ball.

“Russia,” he read aloud, “Group A.”

With Russia entering Group A, Portugal's tactical analyst immediately began reviewing data.

Then, when Blanco took out the second ball and read out, "Netherlands, Group B,"

He couldn't help but frown.

Zidane squinted and remained silent, while Henry muttered, "How did you manage to smoke?"

A murmur of discussion immediately broke out at the scene.

England manager Sven-Göran Eriksson abruptly turned to look in the direction of the French team, his face full of schadenfreude.

The Dutch coaching staff collectively gasped in shock.

"Denmark, Group C."

"Croatia, Group D."

The second draw is the first tier.

When Olsson unfolded the first slip of paper, the entire audience held their breath.

When Spain was drawn into Group A, Portugal's captain Figo unconsciously clenched his fist.

He then drew the second card and unfolded it.

“England,” he announced, “Group B.”

This result plunged the entire venue into a brief silence—the three powerhouses, France, England, and the Netherlands, would meet prematurely in the group stage.

Germany, the third team from the second tier, has been added to Group C.

Italy has been moved to Group D.

The large screen displayed the finalized group stage layout, with Group A already reserved for host nation Portugal. UEFA official Aigner announced into the microphone:

"According to the draw rules, the remaining three teams in the first pot will be placed in alphabetical order."

Staff operated the computer, and three national flags immediately appeared in their respective groups:
France automatically moved to Group B.

Sweden was assigned to Group C.

The Czech Republic was ultimately relegated to Group D.

The entire process took less than 30 seconds, without any dramatic moments. This mechanical allocation method contrasted sharply with the suspenseful draw that followed, slightly easing the tense atmosphere.

Reporters took advantage of the break to bury themselves in taking notes, while coaches from each team began studying the newly released list of opponents.

The final groupings are displayed on the large screen:
Group A: Portugal, Spain, Russia, Switzerland

Group B: France, England, Netherlands, Bulgaria

Group C: Sweden, Germany, Denmark, Latvia

Group D: Czech Republic, Italy, Croatia, Greece

French coach Santini stared at the Group B roster for a full ten seconds, then turned to his assistant coach and said three words: "Prepare for a tough battle."

His voice was soft, but loud enough for the French players around him to hear clearly.

Zidane stood up, his gaze sweeping over the seats for England and the Netherlands.

He gently touched Henry's shoulder, and the two exchanged a knowing glance.

On the England side, Beckham clapped his hands, signaling his teammates to come closer.

Irving and Lampard exchanged a glance, took a deep breath, and slowly walked toward their captain.

Seeing this, Gerrard quickly joined the small group.

“Guys,” Beckham shrugged casually, a faint smile playing on his lips, “it seems we’ll have to entertain our Dutch guests first, and then we’ll go meet our old neighbor, France.”

His tone was light, but his fingers gripping the schedule tightened slightly.

Owen raised an eyebrow: "The Netherlands? Their defense."

Before he could finish speaking, Lampard interrupted, "Van der Sar is not a easy opponent."

Gerrard interjected, "But their midfielder is Zidane."

The three of them discussed amongst themselves, keeping their voices low, and occasionally letting out a few deliberately relaxed laughs.

Beckham leaned back in his chair seemingly casually, but his eyes never left the direction of the French team.

He twirled the watch strap on his wrist and said casually, "We're bound to run into each other sooner or later anyway."

But after he finished speaking, the four of them fell silent for a few seconds, and an unspoken tension filled the air.

The Netherlands' territory was equally turbulent.

Head coach Advocaat stood in the corner, rubbing his temples repeatedly, clearly thinking of a solution.

Meanwhile, the young Van der Vaart stared intently at Roy on the French team's roster, the very Frenchman who had snatched the European Golden Boy award from him.

Their eyes met in mid-air. Van der Vaart raised his chin provocatively, while Roy returned a faint smile, but the fighting spirit in his eyes remained undiminished.

The atmosphere in the venue became tense. Although the players from the three powerhouse teams stood still, they had already exchanged glances several times.

The sound of camera shutters clicking filled the press area; everyone realized that this was not just an ordinary draw, but a strategic deployment before a major battle.

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, as if sparks were about to fly at any moment.

In Group D, Greek coach Rehhagel stood alone in a corner, looking at the schedule.

The veteran coach who once created the "Kaiserslautern miracle" is now thinking about how to find opportunities in this relatively balanced group.

As the Toka-Rufael school band's drums sounded, many coaches remained standing, staring at the group results on the big screen.

Representatives from the French and English teams were the last to leave the venue, and staff from both teams deliberately avoided eye contact as they passed each other in the corridor.

This night, the landscape of European football has been rewritten.

For the French team in particular, they are about to face the toughest test of the group stage – the century-old rivalry with England, plus the formidable opponent of the Netherlands. Group B has become a veritable "super group of death".

Roy stood in the French team's seat, his gaze shifting from the big screen to the schedule in his hand.

In his hazy memory, the Greeks should have begun their mythological journey in a relatively relaxed group.

But now, everything has changed. Greece has been placed in Group D, while France is stuck in a "group of death" consisting of three powerhouse teams.

He looked up and around: Zidane was discussing something in hushed tones with Henry, Santini was studying the Dutch team's data with a furrowed brow, and Domenech was constantly making the sign of the cross on his chest.

Everyone's expression was unusually solemn.

Roy took a deep breath, folded the note he had previously copied down that read "France, England, Netherlands, Bulgaria," and stuffed it into his pocket.

Whether Greece will create a miracle is no longer important; the question now is:

Can the French team fight their way out of this hellish group?

Reporters on the sidelines had already begun frantically writing reports, all of which included the phrase "group of death" in their headlines.

As Roy listened to the incessant clicking of camera shutters, he suddenly realized that history had been rewritten, and they were standing at the crossroads of this new history.

You either become someone else's stepping stone, or you create your own new legend.

As the French team was leaving the venue, Roy stopped in front of the glass window in the corridor.

Through the reflection in the glass, he saw Figo walking towards him with a curly-haired boy in his arms.

Cristiano Ronaldo, dressed in a sharp suit, still had a youthful innocence on his face.

"Zidane, Roy"

Figo greeted them warmly, "Let me introduce you to our Portugal's rising star."

Roy noticed that Ronaldo's body language suddenly tightened.

"Brother Luo" unconsciously straightened his back and raised his chin slightly, like a young male lion ready for battle.

Although his face still showed signs of immaturity, his eyes already flashed with a sharp glint, which he made no attempt to hide.

“Hey, Cristiano,” Roy stepped forward with a relaxed smile and naturally extended his hand, “Long time no see.”

Cristiano Ronaldo was clearly stunned.

They had never had a formal conversation, but Roy's familiar tone made it sound like he was greeting an old friend.

He quickly adjusted his expression, gripped Roy's hand tightly with his right hand, so hard it was almost enough to crush bones—a common tactic used by young players to intimidate their opponents.

Roy accepted the "enthusiasm" without batting an eye, then turned to Figo and explained, "At the charity dinner in Porto last time, Cristiano and I had a very pleasant conversation."

His tone was as natural as if he were talking about yesterday's weather. "We said back then that we wanted to compete on a bigger stage."

Cristiano Ronaldo's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

He vividly remembers every detail of that charity dinner—Roy spent the entire time chatting with Sir Alex Ferguson and the Brazilian from Milan, and even enthusiastically took a photo with the Portuguese "new Figo" Quaresma.

As for myself, I was just a newcomer standing in the corner, quietly observing.

What annoyed him even more was that just recently, his girlfriend Jordana ran into Roy while she was in Monaco with Lima.

When she got back, she said with a smile, "That French player was really funny. He said you were his little brother and that he had taught you how to play basketball."

Thinking of this, Ronaldo's lips twitched slightly.

He stared at Roy's outstretched hand and suddenly realized that the Frenchman was simply toying with him.

Those so-called "past events" were all just made-up jokes.

A charity gala?

Cristiano Ronaldo finally spoke, his voice tinged with feigned confusion, "How come I remember you were only focused on Quaresma back then?"

Before he could finish speaking, Roy burst into hearty laughter and patted him hard on the shoulder: "Just kidding, don't be so serious!"

His laughter echoed in the corridor, only making Ronaldo more certain that the Frenchman was deliberately teasing him.

Figo and Zidane stood to the side, casually chatting about the upcoming Champions League match.

The two veterans chatted and laughed heartily from time to time, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents between the two young men.

Cristiano Ronaldo remained silent throughout, only nodding occasionally in agreement with Figo's words.

His gaze kept glancing at Roy, his eyes filled with scrutiny and a stubborn refusal to admit defeat.

“Speaking of which,” Figo turned to Zidane, “your group was really something.”

"The group of death?"

Zidane picked up the conversation, shrugged, and said, "I'm used to it."

The three were talking casually, but Ronaldo never joined in.

He just stood there, hands in his suit pockets, shoulders slightly tense.

As they parted, Roy extended his hand and said, "Cristiano, see you at the European Championship."

His tone was as relaxed as if he were arranging a friendly match, but the fighting spirit in his eyes was undisguised.

Cristiano Ronaldo finally spoke, his voice deliberately lower than usual: "See you at the European Championship."

He gripped Roy's hand, his grip even tighter than before, as if he wanted to imprint those words onto Roy's palm.

Figo smiled and put his arm around Ronaldo's shoulder:

"Come on, lads, there will be plenty of opportunities to compete in the future."

The two walked side by side, gradually drifting further and further apart.

Cristiano Ronaldo glanced at his face slightly, and out of the corner of his eye, he could clearly feel the gaze behind him. Roy was standing there watching him, so he straightened his back and didn't turn around.

Zidane walked over to Roy and looked him over with interest: "What's wrong?"

His voice carried a hint of teasing.

Roy looked away and shrugged: "Portugal will be a tough nut to crack in the European Championship."

"Come on," Zidane interrupted him abruptly, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I saw it coming a long time ago. Why are you always targeting that Portuguese kid?"

Roy slowly and methodically adjusted the cuffs of his suit with his fingers.

Cristiano Ronaldo, who was at the end of the corridor, turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

"because."

Roy suddenly laughed, a sly glint in his eyes. "The more we target him, the more we beat him, the more interesting he'll be when we meet again."

Zidane raised an eyebrow, puzzled: "Is it that interesting?"

"necessary."

Roy turned and walked in the opposite direction, his voice light but firm, "So, I have to win every time."

(End of this chapter)