When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 119 Even the First Place in the Group Has a Gap
Roy squatted at the entrance of the equipment room, fiddling with the 3-kilogram weighted headband.

"This is a training program specifically designed to strengthen neck muscles and improve heading power," the assistant coach explained.

“Dude, this thing is really heavy,” Roy said with a laugh to Morientes, who was walking over. “It feels like it’s going to stretch my neck into a barrel.”

The teaching assistant stood to the side with a recorder: "Same as usual, 30 reps per set, with a 1-minute rest in between, for a total of 5 sets."

The first ball came flying in, and Roy tried to head it towards the goal, but his movement was a bit stiff and the ball went wide of the post.

"Oh dear," he rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm really not used to wearing this."

Morientes walked over, chewing on an energy bar, and said gently, "Relax, man. You're too tense."

He gently pressed Roy's shoulder. "Come on, straighten your neck and use your third cervical vertebra."

He pointed lightly to the spot with his finger, saying, "Imagine there's a spring here, storing up energy before releasing it."

Roy nodded and adjusted his posture as suggested.

"boom!"

This time, the strike was both accurate and powerful.

"Beautiful! That's it, keep that feeling."

"Thanks to your guidance, it seems I should treat you to a meal."

"Let's talk again when you can make 20 in a row, old friend."

After Morientes left, Roy took a deep breath and adjusted the position of his headband.

Another ball flew in, and he held his breath, recalling the key points Morientes had just taught him.

Straighten your neck and engage the third cervical vertebra.
"boom!"

The ball slammed heavily against the crossbar.

"What the hell!"

Roy scratched his head in frustration, but didn't stop.

When the next ball came, he deliberately slowed down his pace, and only exerted force when the ball was almost above his head.

This time the ball went straight into the top corner.

"That's right!" The teaching assistant clapped from the sidelines.

Roy gradually found his rhythm, and his headers became increasingly smooth.

The fifth ball grazed the post and went into the net; the seventh ball drew a beautiful arc; the thirteenth ball smashed directly into the top corner of the goal.
Sweat streamed down his face, but a smile played on his lips.

"Again!" he shouted to the teaching assistant, his voice filled with long-lost excitement.

When the twenty-eighth ball flew precisely into the net, Roy suddenly burst out laughing.

Turns out, heading a ball isn't that difficult after all.

He pulled off his headband and found his neck was sore, but he felt inexplicably happy.

"Shall we continue tomorrow?" the teaching assistant asked.

Roy slung his soaked training clothes over his shoulder: "Of course, I still owe Fernando a meal."

In the afternoon, by the pool, assistant coach Petit waved to Roy, holding several waterproof balls: "Try these, practicing headers in the water won't hurt your knees."

Roy waded into chest-deep water, the waves making him unsteady: "This is much harder than on the field!"

“I just want you to slow down,” Petit said, gently tossing the ball over. “Pay attention to your timing when you jump.”

Roy headed the first few balls haphazardly, splashing water everywhere.

Gradually, he found his rhythm, and like a dolphin leaping out of the water, he precisely headed the ball when it reached its highest point.

"Great!" Petit laughed and tossed the ball over again. "Remember this feeling."

After practicing for a long time, Roy shook his wet hair: "Shall we continue next time?"

“Of course,” the old assistant coach winked, “until you can swim back and forth with a ball on your head.”

Roy grinned: "Then I'll turn into a seal?"

Petit laughed heartily: "If you can really do it, I'll have Deschamps arrange a pre-match performance for you."

On the training field, Roy hangs from the horizontal bar with his hands and his legs together.

Strength and conditioning coach Pintus walked over carrying a 4-kilogram rubber medicine ball: "Let's add a new trick today: catch the ball and rotate your body while raising your leg."

"Is this thing more tiring than Deschamps' tactics lessons?"

Roy smiled as he took the ball; the anti-slip particles on the surface of the medicine ball made his palms itch.

The first action begins.

Roy inhaled and tightened his abdomen, raising his legs steadily like folding knives. At the highest point, Pintus suddenly threw the ball over.

"then!"

Roy twisted his waist and abdomen, caught the ball with both hands, and turned his body 90 degrees to the right, his external oblique muscles taut and clearly defined.

"Pretty!"

Pintus clapped, "This move trains your stability when you're contesting for a header and resisting pushes."

He pointed to Roy's taut waist and abdomen, "Aerial combat isn't just about the neck; the core is the fulcrum for generating power."

By the twelfth time, beads of sweat were forming on Roy's forehead, but his movements remained clean and efficient.

Petit couldn't help but exclaim, "Your core strength is like it's made of steel bars!"

“Of course,” Roy said, panting as he tossed the ball back, “otherwise how could we hold off those defenders?”

Before he could finish speaking, he caught the ball again, deliberately turning half a circle more than usual when turning left, causing Pintus to shake his head.

After finishing three sets, Roy jumped off the horizontal bar, lifted his jersey to wipe his sweat, revealing his well-defined abs: "How about it? Want me to try doing pull-ups while spinning the ball tomorrow?"

Petit, who was walking over from a short distance away, laughed and tossed a towel over: "Practice your ball-heading skills in the pool first, Mr. Monaco Seal."

Base canteen.

Roy was putting the third piece of chicken breast into his plate, while the oatmeal porridge next to him was steaming. He had already swallowed the banana he had eaten after training in a few bites.

Pintus, holding a cup of black coffee, sat down opposite him and slammed his folder on the table with a "thud".

"Starting tomorrow."

He said in a low voice, "During the season, I do strength training twice a week—reducing the weight by 20%, but doubling the number of reps per set."

He tapped Roy's plate with his finger. "You must eat 1.8 grams of protein per kilogram. If you're even one gram short, I'll have the kitchen add protein powder to your dessert."

Roy grinned: "What about the offseason? Shouldn't you give me a break?"

"dream."

Pintus flipped open the schedule, revealing a densely packed schedule: "15-day sprint plan, 1 hours of weightlifting every morning and 1 hour of explosive power training every afternoon."

He suddenly lowered his voice, "Roy, once you finish this routine, you'll become a forward who can both hold his ground and jump high."

Roy slowed down his chewing.

As he was leaving, Pintus patted him on the shoulder: "Eat more, the future world number one won't have time to go hungry."

Roy put down his fork and looked at Pintus seriously: "Okay, Coach, when I really become the world's number one, you will be my Tim Grover."

Pintus raised an eyebrow: "Do you know who Grover has mentored?"

“Jordan’s strength and conditioning coach,” Roy chuckled, “but I think you’re better.”

"Let's finish the 20 shuttle runs tomorrow first."

Pintus turned and left, but Roy noticed a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth.

A thin layer of frost still covered the grass at Monaco's training ground.

Deschamps rubbed his hands together, his gaze sweeping back and forth among the players in training.

Rothen's left foot drew a beautiful arc, and the ball flew precisely into the penalty area.

Giuly deftly flicked the ball with his foot, changing its direction and sending it flying towards the far post.

Roy arrived in time and volleyed the ball into the net.

"Beautiful!" A chorus of whistles and applause erupted from the sidelines.

Giuly laughed and ran towards Roy, jumping onto his back. Rothen stood there, a satisfied smile on his face, clapping softly.

"That cross," the assistant coach couldn't help but exclaim, "it's like it's equipped with a GPS navigator."

Deschamps smiled slightly and jotted down a few notes in his notebook.

This kid's crosses are indeed beautiful, but if we play a 4-3-3 formation, can he adapt to the high-intensity pressing in the attacking midfield position?
At the other end of the field, Gallardo is dribbling past defenders.

He skillfully dribbled past the defenders and suddenly unleashed a shot from the edge of the penalty area, sending the ball flying into the top corner.

Deschamps nodded slightly.

I used to complain that he held onto the ball too much, but this season he's been more willing to pass. He's even become much more proactive in getting back on defense.

Jean-Pettit handed over a cup of hot coffee: "Everyone seems to be in good spirits."

Deschamps took the cup, the steam blurring his vision: "We're playing Lyon this weekend, them."

Lyon's diamond-shaped 442 clearly appeared in his mind.

Coupet guarded the final line of defense, and the central defensive pairing of Edmilson and Müller was like a concrete wall.
Diarra, this towering defensive midfielder, will completely block the midfield.
He frowned as he thought of Govou and Malouda.

Both wingers are formidable players who can attack from both ends of the pitch, especially that kid Malouda.
"Little Juninho"

Letting him have the ball is a disaster, but on defense...
The space behind Rewier and Bertold, the two full-backs, might be where Rothen's crosses can find their way in?
Elber's positioning was too cunning, and Luindula was like a wild donkey.
Pedretti needs to keep a close eye on Juninho, otherwise...
Rothen's crosses can break down a tight defense, but we need to press high up the pitch. Gallardo is good at running, but the defenders in Ligue 1 are adept at dealing with fancy footwork.
As the training match was nearing its end, Gallardo immediately won the ball back after losing possession in the attacking third, managing to poke it from the opponent's feet to his teammate who had made a run forward.

Deschamps unconsciously raised his eyebrows.

It seems that the stubbornness of South Americans has lessened considerably.
He glanced at Caniggia, who was instructing the young players.

With that old fox around, Marcelo became much more obedient.

He used to constantly boast that he was Argentina's number 10, but now he doesn't dare to mention it even once in front of the Wind Child, for fear that the other party will ask: What number 10 are you?
Being a lackey has worn down even his arrogance.
As darkness fell, Deschamps tucked the tactical board under his arm.

As he walked toward the locker room, he glanced back at Rothen, who was practicing set pieces, and then caught sight of Gallardo practicing shuttle runs alone.

Perhaps we should let them take turns?
Since we have a big enough lead in the league anyway, we might as well use Lyon as a whetstone.

First, use Rothen's crosses to open up the game, then bring on the smaller player when the opponent gets tired.
Isn't Ligue 1 the perfect testing ground?

The studio of OL Zone on Lyon TV, January 6, 2004.

The studio lights shone on Lyon coach Paul Le Guen, who was wearing a dark blue suit and a neatly tied tie.

The host, Gérard, asked the question with a smile:

"Paul, we're playing Monaco on Saturday. They're top of their Champions League group and are on fire."

Le Guin leaned forward slightly, placed his hands crossed on the table, and spoke in a steady tone:
"Yes, Monaco performed well, but don't forget, we also qualified as group winners in the Champions League. I don't think there's a huge gap between the two teams."

He paused for a moment, his eyes becoming serious:

"In fact, in the past few years, the record between Lyon and Monaco has been roughly even. We know them, and they know us."

"Paul, how are you going to limit Roy? He's been on fire lately."

(His performance over the past year has been simply astonishing, and honestly, he's probably Lyon's most feared player right now? Can I just say that?)
Le Guin's lips curled up slightly, revealing a confident smile:

"Roy is definitely a dangerous player." (This kid always seems to be on fire when playing against Lyon.)

"It's fast and powerful. But we have Edmilson and Diarra, and they'll cause him trouble."

"But we won't develop tactics targeting any single individual. Football is a team sport, and we have a complete defensive system." (Don't try to trap me; I won't admit on the show that we're afraid of anyone.)
The host nodded: "So you're not worried about Monaco's attacking firepower?"

Le Guin shook his head slightly:

"Football is not about who has the biggest name, but about who makes the fewest mistakes. As long as we do our best, the results will come naturally."

The host noticed Le Guin's caution and immediately smoothed things over with a smile:

"Of course, of course! Lyon's defense has always been very solid." (Almost stepped on a landmine)

Le Guin nodded, then picked up the conversation:

"That's right. We'll play at our own pace and won't change our overall strategy because of any one player." (But we'll need to have Diarrado keep an eye on him when we get back.)

At the end of the program, he faced the camera and spoke firmly:
We'll find out on Saturday.

August 7, morning.

As dawn broke, Roy appeared on the training field.

Roy jogged and flicked the ball to his left foot, his cleats crushing the frost on the grass.

Approach run, leg swing.

"boom!"

The ball skimmed along the grass towards the corner of the goal, leaving a shallow mark on the frosty turf.

Jean-Pettit chuckled and leaned closer: "Your left foot has improved again?"

“Five more shots,” Deschamps said, pointing to the corner of the goal. “We need to hit there in a row.”

Roy jogged to retrieve the football, his breath quickly dissipating into the winter morning air.

in the afternoon.

The Porsche slowly pulled up beside the school gate, and Roy took off his sunglasses and hung them on his front.

Several students passing by waved to him, and he nodded and smiled.

Rowan stood with one foot on the basketball, looking down and fiddling with his wristband.

His younger sister, Romi, suddenly pounced on him from behind, the end of her braid brushing against his neck—"Gotcha!"

Roy caught her as she levitated, and the little girl seized the opportunity to tug at his sleeve: "Ice cream! You promised last week!"

night.

The engines of a Ferrari Enzo roared along the Nice coastal road.

Turn on the radio, and the sports news is broadcasting transfer news:

Arsenal's £800 million signing Jeffers is now struggling to sell even at a £250 million discount; German youngster Volltz, who once sniped the Gunners, is about to make a permanent transfer to Fulham. Arsenal, hampered by the price, may abandon their pursuit of Reyes and Bordeaux striker Nonda, with a possible deal around £600 million.

Roy reached out to change the channel, and the sea breeze blew in through the car window.

The beat of The Beatles' "Come Together" crashed against the waves, and he hummed along to Lennon's tune, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat.

In the rearview mirror, the corners of his mouth turned up higher and higher, and his hair was blown into a mess by the wind.

He simply slowed down the car, letting the sea breeze carry the song further.

January 8th, noon.

In front of the bakery in the town of Latilby, a fan handed over a crumpled notebook.

Roy signed his name inside the car, the pencil scratching across the paper.

"Score two goals on Saturday!" the little boy shouted.

He blinked: "I'll try."

evening.

The conference room table was piled high with samples.

A representative from the Chinese contract manufacturer, pushing up his glasses, said, "The stitching on these wristbands needs adjustment."

At the Portuguese factory: "But costs will rise."

The female manager, Claire, tapped the form: "Make a sample first, then we'll talk."

Roy twirled his pen and nodded.

In 2003, the EU imposed a 12% anti-dumping duty on China, and with slow sea freight, the price advantage was not obvious.

The factory in Portugal has long been an OEM manufacturer for major brands such as Nike, with strict quality control and stable technology.

In the conference room that evening, Claire frowned as she flipped through the price list: "For small orders, let's choose Portugal. The craftsmanship is reliable, and we can use leftover Nike fabric."

Roy was twirling his pen when he suddenly stopped.

Wait, last week Le Figaro reported that Chirac was pushing to cancel the additional tariffs imposed on China?
He tapped the sample: "I'll choose the Chinese manufacturer."

"Taxable and by sea."

“Let’s sign a trial order for 5000 sets first,” Roy interrupted. “By the time Chirac returns from his visit to China, the additional tariffs might already be gone.”

January 9th, dusk
In Roy's apartment, the setting sun slanted in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Claire handed him the documents: "Dior's contract; the last few pages need to be signed."

He took the pen and quickly signed his name on the coffee table, the paper making a soft rustling sound.

"Thanks for your hard work."

He closed the file and handed it back, casually tucking the pen back into his shirt pocket.

Claire nodded and put the contract into her briefcase.

"That pen is mine."

late at night.

The guitar intro to "Free Bird" is like a tide flooding into a train carriage.

Roy hummed along in a deep voice until the famous three-part guitar solo exploded out—

He suddenly burst into laughter and slammed on the gas.

When the horn startled the seagulls, the sound of the wind swallowed his cheers.

In the rearview mirror, several paparazzi cars were following far away, their headlights flashing on and off on the winding road.

August 10, 2004, Stade Louis II.

The night wind carried the cheers of the fans through the stadium.

The referee blew his whistle, and Morientes gently passed the ball to Roy.

When Roy received the ball, he glanced up at the Olympian defense, his gaze lingering on Elber for a moment.

This Brazilian striker, Giovanni Elber, who wore the Lyon number 9 jersey, was once one of the Bundesliga's most lethal strikers.

During his time at Stuttgart, he formed the "magical triangle" with Balakov and Bobic, scoring 16 goals in a single season.

He has a sturdy build of 1.84 meters and always wears a signature honest smile, but his eyes are as sharp as a cheetah's when he starts moving.

He won the Bundesliga Golden Boot four times with Bayern Munich and helped them win the Champions League. The left-footed player is skilled at shooting with his right foot and has an excellent ability to create chances with his back to goal. German media described him as "tearing apart the German defense with his Samba rhythm".

Had Elber been born ten years later, he could have become a mainstay of Brazil's attacking line, but he was unfortunately caught in the gap between two legendary eras.

Before them was the golden generation of 1994 led by Romario (with stars like Bebeto and Müller shining), and after that came the period of Ronaldo's meteoric rise and dominance.

This Bundesliga striker couldn't even find a spare jersey of his own in the national team's locker room.

Without pausing, Roy flicked the ball with the outside of his right foot, sending it arcing towards the right wing.

Giuly darted out like an arrow released from a bow, and Evra also sped up along the sideline.

On Lyon's side, Diarra immediately marked Rothen, while Govou and Malouda quickly returned to defense.

"Monaco launched a quick attack right at the start of the match!"

The commentator's voice suddenly rose, "Roy's pass was incredibly precise, Giuly has already dribbled to the corner of the penalty area!"

On the sidelines, Le Guen touched his nose, his hawk-like gaze sweeping over Roy.

Deschamps had his hands in his trench coat pockets.

Both coaches kept their eyes fixed on the penalty area, while the cheers from the fans in the stands grew louder and louder.

Giuly received the ball on the right wing. Facing Rewier's pressure, he deftly cut inside with his right foot, creating half a body distance, and then accelerated to cut inside along the penalty area line.

Réviel staggered and barely managed to turn around to chase after him, but he had already left him a body length behind.

Left-back Evra made a high-speed run from the backfield, forcing Govou to divert his attention and widen the defensive line.

Morientes held off Edmilson in the middle, blocking his defensive path with his body and creating space for Rothen to make his forward run.

Lyon's defensive midfielder Diarra charged toward Rothen, attempting to block the passing lane.

Left center-back Müller abandoned Morientes and moved laterally to block Giuly's inside cut-in route.

Left-back Bertold quickly moved inside, forming a double-team with the tracking Malouda, forcing Giuly to slow down.

Just before Müller collided with him, Giuly deftly flicked the ball back to Rothen, who had made a run into the box.

Rothen surged forward and met the ball with a powerful shot.

"boom!"

Coupet made a diving save to tip the ball over the crossbar with one hand!
The ball grazed the crossbar and flew out of bounds, eliciting a gasp from the stands that quickly turned into a sigh.

"From Giuly's breakthrough to Rothen's shot, the whole process was fluid and seamless! Monaco played a textbook example of combining play on the wings and in the middle! Unfortunately, it was ultimately thwarted by a world-class save!"

"The fans in the stands are all standing up! This is absolutely the first attacking combination that has been so brilliant since the start of the game! Deschamps is nodding in approval on the sidelines, while Le Guen is loudly reminding the defense!"

"Corner kick opportunity! Monaco's attack continues!"

Roy jogged over, patted Rothen on the back, and whispered in his ear, "Next time, just hit the top corner directly, don't give him a chance to dive."

Rothen grinned mischievously, pointing to his temple: "Don't worry, I'll hit here next time." On the sidelines, Le Guen clenched his fist and yelled at Diarra: "Keep an eye on him!"

As the corner kick whistle blew, Elber rubbed his ribs where Morientes had elbowed him, spat, and muttered something under his breath.

On the grass, Coupet patted his gloves and made a gesture to the defenders.

Inside the penalty area, players from both sides began to stretch their positions, and a corner kick was about to be taken.

The ball spun as it flew toward the center of the penalty area. Morientes and Edmilson jumped up simultaneously to contest the header, their shoulders colliding heavily with a dull thud.

Morientes stumbled when he landed, and Edmilson rubbed his shoulder and frowned.

The ball was headed out of the penalty area, and Diarra swung his right foot to clear it with a long kick, instantly speeding up the pace of the game.

While Monaco's defenders were still dropping back, Elber had already made a sharp run.

He calmly stopped the long pass with his chest, turned and was about to make a breakthrough, but Abidal slid in like a red lightning bolt and accurately cleared the ball out of bounds.

Elber shook his hand in frustration, while Abidal got up and brushed the grass clippings off his shorts.

Near the sideline, Malouda and Evra simultaneously charged toward the rolling ball, their boots splattering across the grass as they sprinted.

In the stands, Monaco fans waved red and white scarves and chanted "Allez Monaco!"

Lyon fans were equally enthusiastic, stomping their feet and chanting in unison. Their voices occasionally broke away from the cheers of the home crowd.

Roy received the ball on the left wing. Facing Bertold's defense, he slowed down the pace and gently flicked the ball with his right foot, pretending to cut inside.

Bertold shifted his weight slightly, and Roy immediately used the outside of his left foot to push off, suddenly accelerating down the sprint!
Bertold hurriedly turned around to chase after him, but Roy had already left him half a body length behind.

Seeing this, Lyon's right-back Rewier immediately moved laterally to cover.

Roy didn't force his way through; instead, he suddenly slowed down, stepped on the ball with his right foot, and looked up to observe.

Rewier thought he was going to cross and immediately stretched out his leg to block, but Roy cut inside with his right foot, easily evaded him, and then pushed the ball with his left foot to the overlapping Evra!

Evra then passed the ball back to the edge of the penalty area.

Rothen suddenly unleashed a long-range shot from thirty yards out, the ball whizzing through the air.

The entire stadium fell silent instantly, and everyone held their breath.

"Clang!" The ball slammed heavily against the crossbar, bounced off the field, and hit an advertising board with a deafening sound.

Rothen held his head in regret, while Coupet wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

Roy jogged over and pointed to his temple: "Is this what you meant by 'shoot here'?"

Rothen: "Shut up. I'm aiming for the top corner!"

“Their defenders are obstructing Coupet’s view; you should have taken a low shot.”

"I'll definitely do it next time! If you're so good, you do it!"

Rothen pretended to kick his shin, but Roy jumped away laughing.

As the two walked back, Rothen suddenly lowered his voice and said, "Actually, I saw Coupe move ahead of time."

Roy glanced at him sideways: "So you deliberately hit the beam to scare him?"

"Fuck off!"

Rothen grabbed him by the neck, and the two staggered toward the midfield.

On the sidelines, Deschamps had his hands in his trench coat pockets, seemingly calm, but his toes were constantly tapping the ground.

Le Guen stood at the edge of the technical area, occasionally shouting instructions to the field.

The fourth official had to remind him to return to the coaching area.

The transitions between offense and defense are so fast they leave you breathless.

Coupet launched a counter-attack with a quick throw-in, and Govou sprinted forward with the ball, but was cleanly tackled and destroyed by Rodriguez just outside the penalty area.

Monaco immediately countered, with Roy making several changes of direction on the left wing, causing Bertold to lose his balance, and finally delivering a low cross straight into the goal.

Patrick Müller desperately stretched out his leg, barely managing to deflect the ball out of bounds.

The players began to sweat.

Juninho's bangs were wet and stuck to his forehead. He had just tested Roma with his signature curling shot, and in the blink of an eye, he saw Roy dribbling the ball towards his own penalty area.

Diarra chased back, panting heavily, and finally blocked the shooting angle with his body at the crucial moment. The two collided and fell to the ground, and the referee signaled for the game to continue.

Only twenty minutes had passed in the match.

The pace of the game was at its peak from the very beginning and showed no signs of slowing down.

Elber and Morientes collided violently in the center circle, both grimacing and rubbing their ribs as they got up.

Morientes complained to the referee a few words, while Elber shook his head and ran away.

"This competition was absolutely intense!"

The commentator, panting, said, "The transitions between attack and defense were dazzling. Monaco's attacks down the flanks and Lyon's rapid counter-attacks were both played at an extremely high level."

Lyon suddenly accelerated, and their rapid passing and passing stretched Monaco's defense.

Diarra passed the ball to the wing, and Malouda played a one-touch pass to Bertold, who made a forward run, and Bertold swept a low cross into the middle.

Juninho cleverly cut past the diving Pedretti and delivered a diagonal pass with his right foot that pierced the defense!
Luindula passed the ball across before Abidal could block it. Elber, with his back to Rodriguez, suddenly feinted to the right, then turned and twisted in the opposite direction with his left foot!
Rodriguez was tricked and lost his balance, and Elber seized the opportunity to shoot low with his left foot.

"boom!"

The ball struck the left post hard and slid rapidly along the goal line!
Roma were completely unable to make the save and could only watch helplessly as the ball slipped through their fingers.

In a split second, Evra made a diving sliding tackle and kicked the ball out of bounds in front of the goal line!

Govou lost his footing and crashed hard into Evra, the two of them tumbling and falling out of bounds.

In the chaos of the game, the clearance ball fell to Roy's feet.

He had just stopped the ball with his chest when he was subtly shoved from behind by Diarra, staggering as he still tried to protect the ball.

Roy, surrounded by Diarra and Juninho, was like a wild beast cornered.

Diarra pushed and headed the ball from behind, while Juninho reached out from the side to steal it.

Roy flicked the ball repeatedly with his right foot, then suddenly tapped it backward with his heel, turning around and squeezing through the gap between the two players!
After staggering a couple of steps, he barely regained his balance and poked the ball to Rothen in the middle.

Rothen took two steps after receiving the ball and looked up to observe.

Diarra has already chased back and launched a fierce tackle!
Rothen managed to poke the ball forward before falling to the ground.

Roy understood immediately, rushed forward, and deftly flicked the ball with his right foot, sending it whizzing past Rewier's outstretched toes.

Edmilson immediately covered the ball, but Roy suddenly stopped, stepped on the ball with his left foot, and glanced up at the penalty area.

Morientes is wrestling with Patrick Müller, the two pulling at each other's jerseys.

Roy flicked the ball with his right foot, sending it over Müller's head and landing precisely in front of Morientes.

The Spanish center forward controlled the ball with his thigh and then firmly blocked the position with his back to the goal.

Elber and Luindula were both chasing back, and the penalty area was instantly filled with players in red and blue.

Morientes turned his back to Muller, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roy cutting in from the left.

Rothen got up and immediately moved forward, drawing Diarra's attention away from him.

Giuly quietly circled around to the back, and Bertold had to follow him.

Evra cut inside from the wing, ready to pounce on a rebound.

Morientes suddenly flicked the ball with his heel, sending it rolling diagonally towards the left side of the penalty area!
Roy arrived quickly, deftly controlled the ball with his right foot, and then steered it to the right, shaking off the onrushing Edmilson.

Coupet had already covered the near post, but Roy didn't hesitate and curled a shot with his right foot.

"Uh-huh!!!"

"Goal! Goal! Monaco leads 1-0!"

"My God! That goal was absolutely beautiful! From that brilliant moment amidst two defenders to that fluid passing combination in the penalty area! Roy! The superstar has once again proven his worth!"

"Let's watch the replay again—Morientes' backheel pass was a work of art! Under double pressure from Müller and Edmilson, he delivered the decisive pass to Roy with a seemingly casual move!"

"And Roy's positioning and finishing! My God! It's like he can predict the ball's trajectory, appearing in the right place at the right time! The final chip shot was absolutely brilliant! Coupet did his best, but he just couldn't stop that ball!"

"The Stade Louis II is in an uproar! Monaco fans in the stands are celebrating wildly! Deschamps is pumping his fists excitedly on the sidelines! Le Guen, on the other hand, is ashen-faced; Lyon's defense has been completely torn apart by this brilliant combination!"

"This is football! This is why we love this sport so much! Imagination, technique, and teamwork are perfectly combined in this moment! This attack by Monaco will surely be recorded in the history of classic goals in Ligue 1!"

"In the 23rd minute, Monaco, playing at home, took a 1-0 lead! But given Lyon's character, they will never give up easily! The real show is just beginning!"

After scoring, Roy suddenly spread his arms wide and charged towards the sidelines like a young leopard.

He ran to the stands of die-hard fans, suddenly stopped, curled his right hand into a claw shape and put it to his ear, making a "can't hear" gesture.

"Demon King! Demon King!"

Fans in the front row of the North Stand were almost jumping over the railing. An elderly fan wearing a Roy jersey was making a devil horn gesture with trembling hands.

From further away came a drunken roar: "Bring Bayern here! Bring the Germans here!"

The shouts were quickly drowned out by a chorus of whistles.

Elber slowly straightened up, sweat trickling down his temples.

That night in Milan in 2001 flashed before my eyes.

He wore a Bayern Munich jersey soaked with sweat, kneeling on the San Siro pitch with Kahn, their heads touching, amidst a deafening roar of cheers. As he raised the gleaming silver Champions League trophy high, the cool touch traveled through his gloves to his palms.

The plastic chair was just as cold as the one I sat on the bench when Makaay took my starting position.

Elber wiped his face with his jersey, erasing the memories and sweat, and walked silently toward the center circle with his head down.

While the Monaco players were still celebrating, Lyon's goalkeeper Coupet was slapping his gloves hard.

The broadcast camera panned across the screen, capturing Roy's flamboyant smile and Elber's forlorn figure.

Le Guen stood on the sidelines, his brow furrowed.

Monaco's 4-3-3 formation is like a sophisticated machine, with every part working at full speed.

Although Rothen's technique was a bit rough in the attacking midfield position, the alternating runs of Pedretti and Bernardi made up for it.

Roy was completely freed up, roaming like a ghost on the left and middle lanes, constantly coordinating with Morientes, Rothen, and Giuly in small-scale plays.

Roy received the ball on the left wing. Facing pressure from Rewier, he suddenly stepped back and flicked the ball with his heel to Bernardi, who had made a run into the box.

Bernardi didn't stop the ball, but immediately made a cross to the right wing, where Giuly had already started his run.

Roy cut inside immediately after passing the ball, drawing the attention of Bertold and Müller and creating space for Giuly.

Giuly received the ball, made a sudden stop, shook off the onrushing Diarra, and then unleashed a left-footed shot! The ball flew like a cannonball straight into the bottom right corner of the goal—Coupet made a diving save, but it was too late!
2-0! Monaco extends their lead!

Le Guin kicked the turf hard, turned around and yelled at the assistant coach, "How come they always seem to have an extra person?!"

The commentator shouted passionately:
"Giuly! Giuly! Monaco scores again! This teamwork is so fluid, Lyon's defense has been completely torn apart!"

"Roy's run was brilliant; he single-handedly drew away two defenders! Giuly just needs to calmly shoot!"

"Monaco's 4-3-3 formation displayed terrifying mobility, and Lyon couldn't keep up with their pace at all!"

Just as Juli stopped sliding down his knees, leaving three fresh marks on the grass, Roy leaped onto his back, almost knocking them both over.

"Hey! Go easy!" Juli laughed and turned his head, reaching out to grab Roy's collar.

"At least half the credit for that goal goes to my positioning!"

"At most 30%."

Roy grabbed his neck and shook him: "Come on! If I hadn't taken those two big oafs away, you'd still be wrestling with Bertold right now!"

Morientes walked over, placed his large hand on Giuly's head and ruffled it, turning the Frenchman's carefully styled short hair into a bird's nest: "Good job, but next time remember to watch my hand gestures. When I show three fingers, hang them a little further back."

"And then you'll have to perform a backflip?"

Juli slapped his hand away, "Last time in training you only made one out of ten attempts!"

As the three of them burst into laughter, Rothen rushed up from behind and jumped to the top of the crowd: "Stop talking! Deschamps is glaring at us!"

They turned around and saw the coach pointing to his watch, indicating that they should hurry up, so they pushed each other and ran back.

First half stoppage time.

Lyon's attack had just advanced into Monaco's half when Pedretti made a precise sliding tackle to intercept the ball.

Bernardi received the ball, turned around, glanced up, and then delivered a long, low pass.

The counterattack erupted instantly!

Roy launched himself from the left flank like an arrow, while Giuly and Rothen simultaneously surged forward from the center, and Morientes stretched the defensive line laterally.

Lyon's defenders frantically chased back, but Monaco's front four moved with perfect coordination, as if they had practiced it a thousand times.

Roy received the ball on the edge of the penalty area. Facing Rewier's block, he suddenly flicked the ball with his left heel, and the ball changed direction to the right in a bizarre way!
Réviel was caught off guard and stumbled, only to miss his target.

Feint! Low shot!

Roy made a move to unleash a powerful shot, but at the moment of contact with the ball, he flicked his ankle and instead made a delicate push shot!

The ball skimmed along the grass and flew straight into the bottom right corner of the goal.

Coupet made a diving save, barely managing to touch the ball with his fingertips, but he couldn't stop it from rolling into the net!
3-0! Monaco has completely killed the suspense!
After scoring, Roy didn't run off to celebrate. Instead, he strolled slowly to the sidelines, grinned at the Lyon coaching staff, and held up three fingers.

Le Guin's face was ashen, his eyes fixed on Roy.

In a corner of the stands, Bayern's technical analyst frantically adjusted the focus of his DV camera, muttering repeatedly, "My God, this kid's change of direction is simply incredible."

The commentator's voice was hoarse: "Unbelievable! Monaco scores again with a textbook counter-attack! Roy's handling of this—the backheel change of direction followed by a feint and a push—is the style of a top striker!"

When the referee blows the halftime whistle.

The Monaco players walked arm in arm toward the locker room.

The Lyon players hung their heads, and Coupet knelt on the goal line for a long time without moving until Diarra came over and helped him up.

In the 48th minute, Morientes, with his back to Edmilson, suddenly flicked the ball towards the right side of the penalty area with his heel.

Giuly made a ghostly run into the box and calmly slotted the ball into the far corner before Revier could block him.

Coupet got a touch on the ball, but couldn't stop it from rolling into the net. 4-0!

In the 59th minute, Roy delivered a precise cross after a series of changes of direction on the left flank, and Morientes outjumped Müller to head the ball into the net. The Spanish striker excitedly lifted his jersey in celebration, revealing a message written for his young daughter. 5-0!

In the 79th minute, Deschamps made his first substitution.

Argentine player Gallardo replaced Rothen, further enhancing Monaco's midfield control.

In the 83rd minute, an even more unexpected substitution occurred: Ribery replaced Giuly.

Roy switched to playing the false nine, while the French scarred star appeared on the left wing.

Just four minutes later, Ribery used his signature inside cut to beat Dorasu and Bertold, who had replaced Diarra, but his final shot was saved by Coupet.

In the 87th minute, Ribery came back stronger.

He broke through on the left wing and crossed to the center, where Roy cleverly positioned himself to shake off Müller and easily slotted the ball home to complete his hat-trick. 6-0!

Le Guen on the sidelines looked ashen-faced.

He clearly realized that this was not only a gap in player ability, but also a complete lag in tactical concepts.

Monaco's fluid 4-3-3 system completely overwhelmed Lyon's old-fashioned diamond midfield 4-4-2, creating local advantages in every position.

Lyon's 4-4-2 diamond midfield formation exposed its fatal flaws when Essien was absent.

Diarra, playing as the lone defensive midfielder, found himself isolated and helpless against Monaco's 4-3-3 double defensive midfield system. He had to intercept Rothen's forward runs and deal with the wingers cutting inside, and his 12km run throughout the match was still not enough to fill the gap.

Monaco completely broke through the flanks with a 2V1 tactic of winger and full-back (Evra made 7 crosses), and the second goal took advantage of the gap when Govou was unable to track back in time.

Juninho's touches decreased by 37% under the double defensive midfield pressure, and the lack of a focal point for the two strikers led to attacks reduced to long balls and crosses with a success rate of only 28%.

Monaco's diamond formation of three forwards and an attacking midfielder (Roy dropping back as a false nine to lure Müller out of position) completely overwhelmed the four-man defense, ultimately achieving tactical dominance with 62% possession and 23 shots (12 on target).

Essien's absence completely exposed the vulnerability of the single defensive midfielder system to modern multi-dimensional attacks. Monaco precisely dismantled each tactical unit through the midfield triangle (two defensive midfielders plus an attacking midfielder) and overloading the flanks.

"Wing Overload" refers to using a numerical advantage to concentrate attacks on one side of the opponent's lane, creating a situation where the opponent outnumbers the enemy in a localized battle.

Deschamps remained calmly seated on the bench, occasionally rising to remind the players to maintain their formation.

When the final whistle blew, the Stade Louis II was a sea of ​​joy.

The Monaco players circled the field to express their gratitude, while the Lyon players left quickly with their heads down.

Statistics show that Monaco had 23 shots, 12 of which were on target, and a possession rate of 62%, making it a complete tactical victory.

Post-match mixed zone.

Flashbulbs popped and lit up the sky as Roy was surrounded by reporters as soon as he stepped into the interview area.

A reporter from L'Équipe pushed forward: "Roy! Three goals and two assists, how would you rate your performance tonight?"

Roy rubbed his chin with his wristband: "Teamwork. Morientes as the pivot, Giuly's breakthrough, Rothen's pass, I just finished the job in the right position."

A reporter from France Football grabbed the microphone: "Was that backheel flick followed by a fake shot and a push-in goal a pre-match tactic?"

“I tried it a few times in training,” Roy grinned, “but I have to thank Reviere for the success in actual combat; he pounced on me too aggressively.”

The reporter from Le Prolério Lyon was a reporter covering the Lyon team.

He suddenly posed a pointed question: "Both Lyon and Monaco finished first in their Champions League groups, so why was the score so lopsided tonight?"

The scene suddenly fell silent for a few seconds.

Roy looked down and straightened his jersey, then looked up with a sly glint in his eyes:

"Even the group leader is still far behind."

He then added seriously, "The Champions League is a marathon, while the league is a long-distance race. They might have saved their energy for the Champions League knockout stages, while we..."

He pointed to his teammates behind him who were celebrating wildly, "Treat every game like it's a final."

On January 12, 2004, the temperature in Milan was -2 degrees Celsius, but the area outside the Milan Autumn/Winter Fashion Week shows was packed with photographers and fans.

Men's Fashion Week is in January, and Women's Fashion Week is in February.

As the brand's European ambassador, Roy arrived backstage two hours early to prepare.

A Vogue Italia reporter noted the details: Roy was wearing a black wool suit from the Fall/Winter 2004 collection, with a pure white shirt underneath, buttoned up to the top.

The makeup artist only applied a light layer of foundation to emphasize his naturally cold and sharp demeanor.

“No need for contouring,” designer Eddie Slimane personally explained, “His cheekbones are the best feature.”

The fashion show will begin at 3 p.m.

The runway was covered with gray metal panels, and the models walked onto the runway to the rhythm of the German industrial band Einstrürzende Neubauten (The Collapsed New Building Band).

Roy is the third model, following Beckham and Totti.

Beckham walked with a steady gait, sporting his signature smile, and occasionally glanced at the audience, eliciting murmurs of excitement.

Totti's walk was slightly stiff, but he exuded a powerful aura, with his chin slightly raised, displaying the arrogance of the pitch.

According to L'Uomo Vogue, Roy's appearance caused a flurry of camera shutters.

One photographer later described him as having "eyes like he was staring at a goal thirty meters away; he wasn't doing a fashion show, he was hunting."

The entertainment section of Gazzetta dello Sport published exclusive backstage photos:

Kaka and Roy embraced, both smiling broadly. Kaka's hand was on Roy's suit shoulder, as if they were discussing the fabric of the clothes.

Roy said something that made the Brazilians burst into laughter.

When Shevchenko extended his hand, Roy maintained an upright posture and shook hands with just the right amount of force.

Armani ambassador David Beckham chatted warmly with Roy, with Beckham's signature smile and Roy's slightly roguish expression creating an interesting contrast.

Monica Bellucci and Roy pose for a photo. The Italian goddess is wearing a red dress, while Roy bows slightly and gently holds her hand in a gentlemanly manner. The scene is elegant and harmonious.

In the photo, Roy maintains a polite smile and a composed demeanor, displaying both the vigor of a young player and the composure of a fashionable upstart.

The newspaper's seventh page featured a full-page fun survey.

Title: Vieri's Multiple Choice Question

Content: In a GQ interview last December, Vieri said: "That French striker (Roy) looks better than me in a suit, that's not fair. Well. I think he's funny."

Now, let's assume: A. He has dinner with Inzaghi (location: Four Seasons Hotel Milan).

B. Playing golf with Vieri (Location: Lake Como Golf Course)
Voting hotline: xxxxxx
By 8 p.m. that evening, the newspaper had received 3271 calls, with 61% choosing option A.

One fan commented: "I'd pick Vieri! Roy said last time that he admired 'powerful players' the most."

But many others believe: "I would definitely choose Pippo. They're both like playboys, so they should have a lot in common."

After the show, Roy was photographed having a meeting with the Dior team at the Four Seasons Hotel coffee shop.

The waiter told Corriere della Sera, "He ordered a double espresso, but without any sugar."

This detail was cited by Esquire Italia with the headline: "The Bitter Coffee Man: A New Generation of Hardcore Aesthetics".

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Shevchenko's brace ended Roma's unbeaten run this season! In the 15th round of Serie A, AC Milan defeated Roma 2-1 away from home. Shevchenko scored twice (leading the scoring charts with 14 goals), while Cassano briefly equalized. Roma's unbeaten streak ended, but they still lead the league by 3 points, while Milan trails Juventus with one game in hand.

In this match, Ancelotti deployed a new 4-3-2-1 formation, with the attacking midfield pairing of Kaká and Rui Costa shining brightly. Combined with Seedorf, Pirlo, and Gattuso in midfield, they displayed formidable attacking power. Costa reduced his possession and improved his passing, linking up with Kaká on both flanks to create opportunities for Shevchenko. This victory allowed Milan to find a new attacking pattern, and they will continue to practice this tactic against Reggina.

— Gazzetta dello Sport

(End of this chapter)