When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 89 Sooner or later, when I meet Diego (1.3 words)

August 1, 2003, Stade Louis II.

The hot Mediterranean summer night breeze, carrying the scent of the ocean, swept into the stadium, where the more than 36,000 seats were already swallowed up by the red and white waves.

Last season's Ligue 1 champions' banners fluttered under the spotlight, and a giant tifo in the stands unfolded like an epic scroll—Roy made his signature "Gates of Hell" gesture with both hands, and the gold-plated words "LE ROI DU STADE" (King of the Stadium) below flowed with the fiery heat of lava under the lights.

When the DJ roared out "ROI 2007" as a contract renewal declaration, the entire stadium seemed to ignite. Die-hard fans in the North Stand created a thunderous drumbeat with their stomping.

As the players lined up to enter the field, Shabani Nonda's gaze swept over the familiar pitch—every inch of grass was etched with his memories.

Last season, he fought hard here, hoping to win the Ligue 1 top scorer title; and now, every advertising board and every flag at the Stade Louis II is proclaiming the arrival of a new era.

His gaze unconsciously locked onto Roy.

The young man wearing Monaco's number 10 jersey was being followed by cameras, while the shouts of "ROI! ROI!" from the stands washed over the stadium like waves.

Nonda clenched his fists involuntarily.

When the big screen introduced the two teams' lineups and switched to a close-up of Nonda, a few boos rang out from the stands.

The broadcast cameras panned across the stands, where some extreme fans even held up sarcastic signs:

"Nonda, thank you for making room for the King."

Monaco fans haven't forgotten that he said at his transfer press conference that he would "make his former club regret it."

Roy smiled.

He looked in Nonda's direction, where the former star striker was staring intently at the banner on the sidelines. The banner, which read "Thank you for making room for the King," was particularly glaring in the night.

A complex emotion flashed in his eyes.

Roy turned to look at the bench, where Morientes was sitting, the Spaniard also waiting for his chance to play.

"Want to make his former employer regret it?" Roy chuckled inwardly. "That's perfectly normal."

He shook his head slightly, saw the burning desire in Nonda's eyes to prove himself, and a signature playful smile appeared on his lips: "But the football field only recognizes strength, not sentimentality."

If I ever return to the Bernabéu and get thoroughly crushed by Real Madrid, then I deserve to be looked down upon by Real Madrid fans.

The referee blew the first whistle of the 2003-2004 French Ligue 1 season.

The whistle pierced the sweltering heat of the Mediterranean summer night, and the roar of the Stade Louis II instantly reached its boiling point.

Roy stood near the center circle and clapped his hands lightly, immediately eliciting a deafening roar of cheers from the stands.

The players from both sides quickly dispersed, like two armies facing off.

Monaco's red and white wave is advancing forward with Roy as its spearhead.

Bordeaux's blue defense quickly contracted under the command of newly signed Pochettino.

It only lasted 30 seconds.

Roy suddenly started, skillfully weaving through the encirclement of Merem and Costa, and received a diagonal pass from Pulso, the ball seemingly glued to his foot.

The cheers of "ROI! ROI!" from the stands rose and fell with each touch of the ball, as if the entire stadium was drumming up support for their king.

The broadcast camera meaningfully focused on the sidelines, where Deschamps stood motionless with his hands in his pockets, while Bordeaux coach Elie Bopp was pacing back and forth in the technical area.
As Roy launched his third attack on Bordeaux's defense, a unified chant suddenly erupted from the North Stand:
"He is our Demon King!"

(Il est notre Démon!)

"Stay here for us!"

(Pour nous, il est resté!)

"Destined to conquer Europe!"

(L'Europe tremblera!)

The singing reached its climax in the 13th minute of the match, precisely when Roy scored with a brilliant tap-in.

In the 13th minute, Monaco's left flank unleashed a storm that swept through Bordeaux's penalty area!
Rothen received the ball on the left wing and played a series of one-two passes with Evra to break through the defense.

Evra looked up and saw the French full-back surge forward along the sideline like a red lightning bolt, sweeping across the penalty area with his left foot just before Giuletti could block him.

The ball had a slight spin.

Swish!
Roy made a ghostly run into the six-yard box and deftly tapped the ball in under pressure from Pochettino and Planus.

The ball traced a bizarre arc, passing over Rookie's desperately outstretched fingertips, and bounced into the net inside the far post!

The Stade Louis II exploded instantly!

More than 30,000 fans jumped up from their seats at the same time, the roar almost lifting the roof off.

Pochettino stood there, making an exaggerated "helpless" face.

The moment the ball rolled into the net, Nonda stood still.

He suddenly understood something.

Back in Monaco, even if he was benched for 90 minutes, he would still walk into the locker room with a smile when the final whistle blew.

Because the victory on the scoreboard ultimately belongs to his team and his city.

Now, wearing Bordeaux's blue jersey, he is experiencing a double defeat for the first time.

As an opponent, his defenses were easily torn apart by Roy.

As a former player, he had to watch helplessly as the Stade Louis II celebrated for the man who would replace him.

Roy rushed toward the corner flag but did not make the signature celebration.

He simply pointed calmly at Evra, who had provided the assist, as if to say: This is just standard practice for the defending champions.

21 minutes.

Merem's through ball broke through Monaco's defense.

Nonda made a one-on-one run, but Roma made a brilliant block on his shot at the near post.

A chorus of boos erupted from the stands, despite the suspicion that Squillaci had been pulled.

27 minutes.

Giuly cuts inside from the right wing, draws the defense, and then passes the ball.

Roy faked a shot at the edge of the penalty area, then cut inside, shaking off Smertin before unleashing a powerful shot.

Rookies leaped forward and lifted the crossbar with one hand!
39 minutes.

The heatwave from the Mediterranean swept through the Stade Louis II, and the air seemed to freeze for a second.

Bordeaux's corner kick was punched away by Roma, and Monaco instantly transformed into a precise counter-attack machine!

Bernardi chested down the high ball, turned and shook off Merim's marking before passing the ball.

Pedretti played a pass to Giuly, who had dropped back. Giuly turned with his back to Costa and skillfully evaded him.

The entire defensive line pressed forward like a tidal wave, and Evra had already sprinted past the halfway line.

Giuly received the ball with his back to goal near the sideline, and suddenly flicked it with his heel, sending the ball through his legs.

Pulso feigned a move to the right flank, drawing Pochettino away from the defensive area.

At the same time, Roy made a sharp dart through the middle, completing a cross-run with the Croatian center forward.

Bordeaux's defense faltered fatally at this moment, and Planus hesitated whether to follow Pulso or block Roy, ultimately choosing to stay put.

Giuletti lowered his center of gravity and lunged forward, while Roy gently pulled the ball back with the sole of his right foot.

The Bordeaux left-back was thrown off balance by the pause and staggered, giving up half a body length.

Smertin roared as he tried to cover laterally, but Roy suddenly flicked the ball into the gap between the two.

Instant acceleration!
The Russian international was thrown off balance and turned around awkwardly, only to find Roy had already passed by him.

A deafening roar of "Olé!" erupted from the stands.

At the edge of the penalty area, Pochettino's attempt to block was a beat too late.

The moment Roy swung his right leg, the entire stadium held its breath.

Bang!
The ball rose from the ground, arcing outwards in a deadly curve.

As Brooks took the air, his glove had just cleared the crossbar when the ball blasted into the top right corner!

Deschamps raised his arms and roared, his suit jacket fluttering in the air.

On the bench, Morientes and Caniggia exchanged glances across each other.

The Spanish seem to think, "There's a reason why he left Real Madrid."

The Argentine Wind Prince raised an eyebrow and replied, "You came to the right place, didn't you?"

As the broadcast camera panned across the stands, an elderly fan with white hair was trembling as he raised his hands, mimicking Roy's signature "Gates of Hell" gesture.

The entire stadium erupted in jubilation, the fans' chants growing louder, even drowning out the goal announcement over the loudspeaker. This time, Roy didn't perform his signature celebration; instead, he slowly walked towards the North Stand, placed his right hand on his chest, and bowed slightly.

An elegant greeting, completely contrary to his identity as a "demon king".

The 67th minute of the game.

Roy received the ball with his back to goal at the edge of the penalty area, and Costa, Smertin and Pochettino immediately formed a triangle to surround him.

He pulled the ball back half a meter with his right foot, then suddenly flicked it to the left with his heel, sending a through ball.

Rothen cut inside from the wing to receive the ball and, before Giuletti could block him, used the inside of his left foot to push the ball across to the penalty spot.

Pulso met the ball with his left foot as support, his right leg swung slightly but with full force, and his instep shot hit the inside of the left post and bounced into the net.

Although Rooks guessed the right direction, the ball was too fast for him to make contact.

The 73th minute of the game.

Costa launched a long pass from the right flank of the backfield, the ball traveling approximately 40 meters.

Nonda suddenly broke the offside trap between Squillaci and Abidal, breaking free from Squillaci's pull like a trapped beast, and leaped to meet the ball near the penalty spot.

He used his neck to strike the ball directly in the center of his forehead, heading it towards the bottom right corner of the goal.

Roma dived to the side, barely managing to touch the ball with his fingertips but failing to change its trajectory.

The ball struck the inside of the goalpost and bounced into the net.

After landing, Nonda immediately turned around, lowered his head, and quickly walked back to the center circle, avoiding teammates who came to give him a high-five.

Monaco then gradually brought in new signings.

Morientes replaced Pulso.

Caniggia replaced Giuly.

Ibarra replaced Elfakiri.

As for Ribery, he sat at the end of the bench, his water bottle slightly deformed from being squeezed.

After the summer training camp, Deschamps rated him as having 5 stars for talent and 2 stars for tactical fit.

After coming on, Morientes immediately exchanged a brief conversation with Roy, and the two made tactical hand gestures with their fingers.

Caniggia delivered a penetrating through ball with his first touch.

Ibarra also performed reasonably well on the right flank.

When the final whistle blew, the score was 3-1.

Post-match interview segment:

Deschamps: "We showed the dominance of the defending champions. Roy? He's a player born for these big occasions. The contract extension isn't the end, but a new beginning for him and the team."

Turning to Morientes, who was being interviewed, he said: "Fernando? He hasn't scored yet today, but his Champions League experience will help the team a lot. The goals will come sooner or later. More importantly, I see that they have integrated into the team and have been reborn here."

Bordeaux manager Elie Bopp: "Facing last season's champions, we lacked a finisher like Pauleta. But Nonda's performance proves that some people can find their better selves after leaving Monaco. This is a good thing; the league season is still long, and our performance will only get better."

When asked by reporters again whether he chose to come to Monaco because he was fourth in the pecking order at Real Madrid, he was asked to come.

Morientes smiled and shook his head: "No, no, leaving Real Madrid is just a change or a choice. I think I can still fight for championships, no matter where I am. Now my goal is to score goals for Monaco."

Reporter: "You joined Monaco at the age of 36. Many people think you're just here to retire. What's your opinion on that?"

Caniggia flashed her signature carefree smile, her fingers gently twirling her long, golden hair.
"36 years old? It's just a number."

He suddenly lifted his jersey, revealing his well-defined abs, which drew gasps from the female reporters around him.

Forget about being 36!

He pointed to Roy, who was being interviewed in the distance.

"Just like you can't imagine that the child is only 18 years old."

He paused for a moment, then his gaze suddenly became deep.

"Forget the nickname 'Child of the Wind,' now I am just Caniggia."

He straightened his jersey collar.

"Right now, I just want to play as much as possible and enjoy every touch of the ball."

Just as the reporter was about to press for more information, he suddenly winked slyly and, before turning to leave, uttered a remark:
"It's not that I can't run anymore—"

"Sometimes the wind needs to pause briefly, or choose a gentler blowing method."

Roy's post-match interview.

Reporter: "What are your goals for the new season?"

Roy's lips curled into his signature playful smile, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes:
"we are the champion."

The reporter pressed further: "Which championship? Ligue 1? The Champions League? Or—"

Roy shrugged, his tone relaxed:
"Of course I'd want it all."

He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over his teammates who were celebrating not far away.

"Who knows?"

After saying that, he blinked, turned and left, leaving behind a meaningful silhouette.

Nonda's post-match interview.

Reporter: "You scored against your former club but failed to win. How do you feel right now?"

After a long silence of 10 seconds, Nonda's Adam's apple bobbed.

"I did say I would make Monaco regret it."

"But they didn't deserve the victory today."

L'Équipe's post-match commentary:

"The cruelest lesson in football is that it lets you experience the whole process of being replaced firsthand. Tonight, Nonda learned not only the bitterness of being an opponent, but also the realization that in Monaco's epic history, he has become a chapter turned over."

"When the game restarted, Nonda charged at Monaco's defense like a wounded beast. But everyone knew that something was forever left in the goal that Roy breached."

Roy's Porsche 911 slowly drove out of the stadium, and the fans outside the car window immediately stirred.

He ordered a Ferrari 360 Challenge Stradale from Ferrari Store Torino, the largest Ferrari dealership in Turin. It was a new model released in 2003 and could be delivered as early as the end of the year.

He was in a good mood today, so he simply stepped on the brake and rolled down the window.

"Roy! How far can we go in the Champions League?"

Is their Ligue 1 title defense secure?

The fans shouted all at once, and Roy smiled as he accepted the jersey for an autograph, until—

A six or seven-year-old boy stood on tiptoe, trying to hold up a go-kart helmet.

Roy raised an eyebrow and took the helmet: "What's your name?"

“Charles Leclerc!” the little boy’s voice was clear and crisp, with a distinctive Monaco French accent.

Roy paused on the helmet with his pen, then looked up at the small, thin child—who had slightly curly brown hair and strikingly bright eyes.

"You race cars too?" he asked casually, signing his name but not rushing to return it.

"I just won the junior karting competition at the Nice Grand Prix last week!" the little boy puffed out his chest. "But I also love football. My dad says you're even harder to beat than the F1 champion!"

Roy laughed loudly, then suddenly slammed the helmet onto his own head: "Then watch closely!"

He made an exaggerated accelerator pedal movement, and the Porsche engine roared in response, startling the little boy into taking a half step back, then giggling.

“Remember this, Charles,” Roy finally handed the autographed helmet back to him, his eyes suddenly serious, “whether it’s on the track or the court!”

"Always be the first to cross the finish line."

The lights of Monaco Bay streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting dappled shadows on the open copy of Heidegger's "Being and Time" in Roy's hands.

On the radio, Bach's cello suites were playing in their most serene section.

Doutzen Kroes approached barefoot, still carrying the faint scent of perfume from her recent fashion shoot.

She sat lightly on his lap, her fingers twirling a strand of his dark hair.

"Guess who received the Victoria's Secret invitation?" She gently pressed a gold-embossed card onto the open pages of his book, where Heidegger's "Dasein" was covered by the Victoria's Secret angel wings logo.

Roy raised an eyebrow, closed the book, and traced his fingers along her slender waistline.

"So, oh, I need to check the schedule. I don't want to watch your catwalk live from the locker room."

Du Chen nibbled on his earlobe: "Or... you win the Champions League trophy, and I get a pair of wings, and we exchange gifts at the celebration banquet?"

The radio suddenly switched to U2's "Beautiful Day," and the sound of yacht horns could be heard from the distant harbor.

Roy tossed the book aside, and the Victoria's Secret invitation fluttered onto the carpet.

“Who wants that thing?” he said.

The next day.

Lille defeated Lyon 1-0 at home.

The "Son of Lille" has once again been protected by his youth academy parent team!

The inauguration ceremony of Sporting Lisbon's new stadium, Alvalade Stadium, on August 6, 2003.

18-year-old Cristiano Ronaldo stood in the players' tunnel, his eyes blazing.

The Manchester United players, still carrying the fatigue and ease of the preseason in the United States, chatted and laughed as they stepped onto the pitch.

They have just swept through North America, defeating Celtic, Juventus, Milan and Barcelona in succession, and are full of confidence.

Cristiano Ronaldo, the curly-haired boy wearing the number 28 jersey for Sporting Lisbon, was like a drawn sword, its brilliance fully revealed.

Cristiano Ronaldo's gaze swept over the Manchester United bench, finally settling on Ferguson's face.

He had met the Scottish old man a month earlier at a charity dinner hosted by Louis Figo.

At the time, Ferguson kept his eyes on a certain arrogant French striker, and the way the two whispered to each other made him inexplicably unhappy.

And now, Ferguson's gaze didn't linger on him for even a second.

Manchester United's number 8, Ronaldinho, is swinging his ponytail and grinning as he chats and laughs with his teammates.

This Brazilian magician outmaneuvered all his opponents in four preseason friendlies in the United States, winning over Manchester United fans with his dazzling dribbling and goals, making him the most anticipated signing of the new season.

Cristiano Ronaldo clenched his fists even tighter.

He recalled an interview with L'Équipe a few months earlier—Roy, the Monaco-born Chinese prodigy, when asked about "his opinion on the influence of the name Ronaldo in football," casually replied:

"I've only ever heard of two Ronaldos."

There are only two Ronaldos in the world—Ronaldo the Elder and Ronaldinho the Younger.

These words were like a thorn, deeply embedded in Ronaldo's heart.

Right now, the young Ronaldo is enjoying all the attention, while Cristiano Ronaldo doesn't even deserve a second glance from Ferguson.

"I will make them remember that there are three Ronaldos in the world."

After the match started, every touch of the ball by him was like a declaration of war.

Gary Neville, who was sidelined due to injury, sat on his sofa at home, his eyes glued to the television screen.

When Cristiano Ronaldo dribbled past O'Shea on the left wing with a chip shot, the Englishman almost spat out his beer.

"My God!" he exclaimed at the empty living room.

Neville paid particular attention to Ronaldo's running – that tireless sprinting, that dedication to every ball.

But the one who really suffers is his substitute, O'Shea.

The Irishmen looked like lost tourists on the field, completely bewildered by Ronaldo's fancy moves.

“O’Shea needs a GPS, he’s gone mad,” Neville muttered, taking another swig of beer.

On the sidelines, Giggs laughed like a child who had just pulled off a prank, saying to his teammates, "Honestly, it's hard not to laugh when you see O'Shea getting completely fooled by that kid."

As soon as the locker room door closed, Ferdinand couldn't help but burst out laughing: "John (O'Shea), did that kid put some kind of sleeping potion in your shoe?"

He mimicked Cristiano Ronaldo's stepover motion, saying, "Left, right, left, and then you trip yourself up!"

During halftime, O'Shea slumped in a chair in the locker room, his face pale.

“He looks like he needs some oxygen,” Ferdinand said, raising an eyebrow with a hint of mockery.

Giggs, who was applying an ice pack to his knee, almost spat out his water when he heard this: "I bet that kid watched your defensive highlights ten times before the game, specifically studying how to mess with you."

"Bullshit!" O'Shea slumped on the bench, his soaked jersey clinging to his body. "Anyone who tries to guard him will know! His knees don't even bend when he changes direction!"

Noticing Ferguson's gloomy expression, he immediately changed his tune, "Of course, it's mainly because I haven't adjusted to the time difference yet."

Scholes suddenly looked up from the corner, his fingers tracing his ginger-yellow hair: "That kid has a fixed routine before he dribbles past people."

He imitated Ronaldo's movements, "first he looked up and glanced at the goal, then looked down, and then dashed over as if he had pressed the start button."

Barthez, who was dusting his gloves with magnesium powder, looked up when he heard this: "The worst part is that he didn't even look at the ball before he shot! He was just staring at me."

His words stopped abruptly.

At the locker room entrance, Xiao Luo's ponytail swayed from side to side with her light steps.

"That kid looks like a telephone pole when he rides his bike!"

Ronaldinho grinned and wiped his sweaty ponytail with a towel. "His upper body is ramrod straight, and defenders can see his center of gravity at a glance."

There was a moment of silence in the locker room.

O'Shea's face darkened further.

“But damn it!” The Brazilian suddenly stopped smiling, his finger tracing an arc in the air. “His explosive power when he changed direction was completely wrong, but he still managed to get past people.”

Ferdinand whistled: "So it's talent overpowering technique?"

"Do not."

Xiao Luo took a bottle of water from the cabinet and poured it over his head. "It's hunger."

Water droplets slid down his smile. "Didn't you see the look in his eyes when he failed to break through? Like a young wolf whose prey had been stolen."

Barthez suddenly interjected, "So do you think he can change his bad habits?"

"what!"

Ronaldinho's signature smile is back. "Back when I was at Gremio, the coach said my shooting form looked like a dancing ostrich."

He made a comical hip-swaying motion, "And now?"

Laughter erupted in the locker room, and even Ferguson's lips twitched.

"Just wait and see. If we buy him, I'll personally teach him!"

"How to kick the ball correctly using the wrong posture."

A glint of light flashed from Ferguson's glasses.

At that moment, the Scotsman gripped his pen tightly, and a decision took shape in his mind.

At the start of the second half, he substituted the disoriented O'Shea.

Silvestre and Barthez managed to stop Ronaldo from breaking through again, but the Portuguese teenager's performance had already amazed everyone.

The only regret is...

Despite Cristiano Ronaldo assisting Joao Pinto's goal and scoring a goal himself, the match ultimately ended with Manchester United winning 4-2.

Ronaldinho completely tore apart Sporting Lisbon's defense, proving himself to be the brightest star of the night with two assists and a goal.

After the match, Ronaldo had to admit to himself: "This Ronaldo is stronger and more flashy."

But as he walked toward the players' tunnel, he glanced up at the scoreboard, then at Ronaldinho who was celebrating, and quietly clenched his fist.

"But it won't be forever."

Back home in Manchester, Gary Neville turned off the television and sent Ferguson a text message:
"Boss, we have to sign that kid, really."

Late at night after the match, Cristiano Ronaldo's phone suddenly vibrated.

"Cristiano!"

Mendes' voice almost burst through the receiver on the other end of the phone, "Manchester United want to sign you! Ferguson personally made the decision!"

Cristiano Ronaldo's heart skipped a beat, a surge of heat rushing from his chest to the top of his head. But the next second, his pride instinctively took over.

“Jorge,” he said deliberately, “even if I were to go to the Premier League, I would prefer to go to Arsenal. Mr. Wenger has been very kind to me.”

Last year, Cristiano Ronaldo visited the Colney training ground twice for trials. Arsène Wenger personally received him, along with Jorge Mendes and his mother, and opened a cabinet to show that his records had been kept in Arsenal's archives since he was 15 years old.

He then arranged for Henry to meet with him and presented him with an Arsenal number 28 jersey, asking if he would be willing to wear it and play for Arsenal.

This made Ronaldo feel valued.

"I want to prove there that I will be the best player in the Premier League."

A helpless sigh came from the other end of the phone: "That was last year, Cristiano. Your net worth has now exceeded ten million."

"And Arsenal?" Mendes paused for a moment, "They can only offer a maximum of eight and a half million."

Cristiano Ronaldo's breath hitched.

He recalled how Ferguson hadn't even glanced at him at the charity gala a month earlier.

I'm reminded of that old Scottish man tonight, taking off his glasses on the sidelines and wiping the lenses repeatedly.

8 month 9 day.

Lyon, Stade Gerland, Ligue 1 Round 2.

In the 18th minute, Essien rolled over Pedretti like a tank in midfield, intercepted the ball, and strode forward!

Monaco's defense retreated hastily, but Juninho had already quietly moved up the right flank.

The Brazilian magician delivered a low cross, and the ball darted like a viper towards the six-yard box.

Squillaci stretched out his leg to block, but the ball unexpectedly changed direction, and Roma couldn't make the save. Lyon 1-0 Monaco!
Gerland Stadium exploded instantly!
Die-hard fans waved huge Lyon team flags and sang in unison:

"Only a French team can become the Ligue 1 champion!"

Some fans imitated Squillaci's gesture of holding his head, laughing and shouting:

"Thanks for the assist! How about coming to Lyon to play as a striker?"

A banner that had been prepared beforehand was unfurled in the south stand:

"The toys of the rich can never beat real football!"

Benzema, not yet 16, sat in the Lyon stands, jumped up excitedly, and shouted to his youth academy teammates beside him:
"See that? This is the true strength of a Ligue 1 champion! What is Monaco? Roy? He can't even touch Essien's cleats!"

The fans nearby jeered, "Karim, you could score three goals against them too!"

Benzema grinned and pointed at Roy on the field:
"That kid is two years older than me, so why is he the best player in Ligue 1? When I get on the field, I'll show them what a real genius is!"

The Lyon U18 coach quickly pulled him down to sit and scolded him in a low voice: "Shut up and watch the game!"

Boos came from the Stade Gerland like a tidal wave, but Roy seemed to catch a jarring sound in the midst of the clamor.

The boy sitting in the Lyon stands, wearing a youth team uniform, was pointing at himself and shouting something.

Although the specific content was unclear, the provocative look and exaggerated gestures were clear enough.

Roy's lips curled up slightly.

He slowly turned around, facing the stands, amidst the jeers of tens of thousands of people.

He first pointed to the Monaco team emblem on his chest.

Then he raised one finger.

Finally, he pointed to the Lyon fans' stand and made a "2" gesture.

The entire movement was fluid and graceful, exuding a cool elegance.

Instantly, the Gerland Stadium erupted!

Lyon fans were furious, their curses thundering: "Arrogant brat!"

Monaco's die-hard fans cheered wildly, chanting, "Il est notre Démon! (He is our devil!)"

Benzema suddenly stood up, but the U18 coach shoved him back into his seat: "Karim! Calm down!"

The 23th minute of the game.

Pedretti's diagonal pass from the backfield pierced the night sky above the Stade Gerland, heading straight for Roy's feet.

But before the ball even hit the ground, Essien had already charged in like a heavy tank at full speed.

The Ghanaian slammed his shoulder against Roy's back, his burly body pressing down like a wall, causing Monaco's number 10 to stagger half a step.

Diarra then arrived to assist, precisely blocking Roy's possible turning route. The two, one in front and one behind, forced Roy into a narrow space, like a caged beast.

Roy, flanked by two men, managed to hold onto the ball amidst their double-team, but Essien decisively slid in to clear it out of bounds.

Lyons made a synchronized "chokehold" gesture, mocking Roy for being completely locked up.

Roy spat viciously, his eyes burning with cold fury.

Essien turned around with a ferocious grin, ran his thumb across his throat, and made the "finish" gesture toward the stands.

Just two minutes later, Monaco conceded another goal.

Diarra intercepted Bernardi's pass in midfield like an iron gate and then strode forward!
Monaco's defense hastily retreated, but Lyon's attack came in like a tidal wave.

Diarra calmly passed the ball to Lyon's attacking midfielder Carrière, who then delivered a pinpoint through ball that pierced the defense!
Center forward Luindula, with his back to Monaco center-back Squillaci, deftly passed the ball back to the edge of the penalty area.

The Ghanaian beast Essien arrived in a flash, and without any adjustment, unleashed a powerful shot with his right foot!

The ball flew like a cannonball and nestled into the top right corner of the goal, but Roma's diving save was futile!

The Gerland Stadium erupted in cheers!
Die-hard fans waved giant team flags wildly and sang:
"ESSIEN! He makes Monaco tremble!"

The fans then imitated Essien's signature chest-pounding celebration, roaring in unison:

"This is the power of Lyon!"

Benzema leaped from the stands and shouted towards the pitch:

"See that? That's what you call a world-class midfielder!"

Deschamps looked grim. Rothen was in poor form today. Essien and Diarra were marking Roy closely and helping to shut down the connection between Roy, Giuly, and Pulso.

Monaco's attacking advance was extremely difficult.

44 minutes.

Lyon's left winger, Dorasoo, received the ball on the left flank. Facing Elfakiri's defense, he suddenly stopped and changed direction! Monaco's right-back was half a body away, and Dorasoo seized the opportunity to accelerate down the flank.

He curled a low, flat shot with his left foot, the ball spinning sharply as it flew toward the penalty area!
Monaco center-back Rodriguez made a desperate attempt to block the ball out of bounds.

The ball struck his calf and then changed direction violently.

Goalkeeper Roma was in despair. He lunged toward the near post, but could only watch helplessly as the ball spun into the far top corner!

First-half stoppage time.

Roy dribbled the ball up the middle line, only to be met with textbook defense once again.

Essien intercepts head-on, lowering his center of gravity to block the passing lane.

Diarra's flank pressure forced Roy to move towards the wing.

Monaco's key player was forced to pass back, disrupting their attacking rhythm.

The referee blew the whistle to end the first half.

Monaco were down by three goals at halftime.

The players walked into the tunnel with their heads down, their jerseys soaked with sweat, their steps heavy.

Rodriguez's own goal was like a final blow, shattering the defending champions' pride completely.

Deschamps stood at the locker room door, arms crossed, his face ashen.

"Is this your attitude towards defending your title?" His voice wasn't loud, but it felt like a blade scraping against everyone's eardrums.

No one dared to raise their head in the locker room.

"Rothen!" Deschamps suddenly roared, his fist slamming into the tactical board with a loud thud.

Rothen shuddered.

In the first half, he was repeatedly harassed by Lyon's right-backs Delander and Essien, failing to make any successful breakthroughs and losing possession three times.

Are you sleepwalking?!

Deschamps grabbed a bottle of mineral water and smashed it on the ground, splashing water onto Rothen's shoes. "Essien dispossessed you three times! Three times!"

Roy sat in the corner, silently tearing at his ripped socks.

His left knee was scraped and the wound had just been treated.

But compared to the score, this injury is insignificant.

"And you guys!" Deschamps scanned the entire team. "Your passing is like an old lady buying groceries! Your running is like a tourist's!"

Pulso hesitated, but Deschamps interrupted him directly:
"Shut up! Now listen up!"

The locker room fell silent instantly.

"Rothen, you're being substituted."

Rothen looked up abruptly, his face turning from red to white.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Deschamps had already turned and walked toward Morientes.

Ribery jumped up from his seat, his face full of anticipation.

He quickly took off his substitute vest and even secretly stretched his ankles.

"Frank, sit down."

Assistant coach Jean-Pettit frowned. "It's Rothen who's been substituted."

Deschamps stood in front of Morientes, and the Spaniard slowly rose to his feet.

"Fernando," Deschamps grabbed his jersey, "smash them with your head!"

Morientes simply nodded calmly, while Roy clapped softly, a gesture that instantly dispelled the oppressive atmosphere in the locker room.

Deschamps snatched the tactical board and drew three arrows with a marker: "Morientes and Pulso, press the penalty area together, use your headers to break through! Roy, go to the left and tear apart Delander, that guy already has a yellow card! Giuly drop back to play attacking midfield, team up with Bernardi to create play, and pin Diarra to his defensive position! Pedretti, the lone defensive midfielder, focus on sweeping, and the full-backs, push forward to assist!"

Deschamps suddenly fell silent, and only the players' heavy breathing could be heard in the locker room.

"We are the defending champions!"

In the silence, Roy suddenly spoke softly, "Either die with dignity, or go back to Monaco and become a laughing stock."

Amidst the loud crash of the door being kicked open, Monaco players, their eyes red, rushed back onto the pitch.

Roy was the first to step onto the grass, his eyes gleaming.

He then realized that he had stepped on it with his right foot, so he stepped back and stepped on it again.

Meanwhile, Lyon fans at the Stade Gerland chanted, "4-0!!!"

Benzema also shouted, "Four goals! Four goals!"

Canal+ commentator Dubois looked curiously at Monaco's formation after the start of the second half, and then commented:
"Deschamps has made a stunning adjustment! Monaco has switched to a 4-3-3 formation! Roy has been pushed up to the left wing, Morientes and Pulso form a twin towers, and Giuly has dropped back to the attacking midfield position! This is a very aggressive formation! Monaco is going all out! Lyon needs to be careful!"

Ribery sat on the bench, impatiently tapping his knee with his fingers, his eyes fixed on Roy on the field.

"I'm the one on the wing!" he muttered under his breath, his tone full of resentment.

But just two minutes later.

"Roy has the ball! He's one-on-one with Delander on the left wing!" The commentator's voice suddenly rose.

Ribery's fingers stopped.

Roy gently flicked the ball with the outside of his right foot, sending it rolling forward half a meter while suddenly accelerating!
Delander leaned back and hurriedly turned around to chase after him, but he was already a beat too late.

He instinctively reached out to grab Roy's jersey, but remembering his yellow card, he stopped himself.

In that moment of hesitation, Roy had already pulled two body lengths ahead of him!
"A textbook example of a breakthrough down the flank!" the commentator exclaimed.

Ribery's lips pressed into a straight line, and he stopped speaking.

The Lyon fans on the sidelines gasped in shock, and Benzema's expression froze.

Some things don't need to be refuted; letting your feet do the talking is enough.

Lyon's coach, Le Guen, frantically waved for help from the sidelines, but it was too late.

Left-back Rewier quickly covered the ball, but Roy had already dribbled to the byline.

Morientes made a quick forward run from the middle, while Pulso flanked at the far post.

Roy looked up to observe, then swept a low cross across the face of goal with his right foot!

Morientes slid in and fired a shot before Edmilson could react!

Coupet reacted quickly, diving to push the ball out of bounds.

Corner kick!

Monaco fans collectively held their heads in despair, while Lyon defenders, still shaken, shouted to each other to mark their man.

Delander stood there, wiping away sweat with a grim expression.

Deschamps on the sidelines clapped enthusiastically.

Although the attack didn't result in a goal, the tactics had already been executed.

Before the sighs of Monaco fans had even subsided, Giuly had already strode towards the corner flag area.

He took a deep breath and raised his right hand to indicate the landing point.

"Forward post!"

The corner kick is taken! A precise, curved shot flies straight into the six-yard box!
"Pulso!" the commentator shouted.

Croatian center forward leaped from the ground, overpowering Casapa, and delivered a powerful header!

Coupet made a diving save, blocking the ball with one hand.

"Morientes!! Follow-up shot!!"

The Spanish striker appeared like a ghost at the far post! Unmarked! A vicious header followed up! The ball slammed into the net!
"BUUUUUT!!! Monaco has pulled one back! 3-1!"

Morientes roared wildly as he charged toward the corner flag, sticking out his tongue and looking ferocious!
Roy was the first to rush forward, grabbing his high school classmate (from Madrid High School) by the neck and roaring in his ear:

"Well done, Fernando!"

The other teammates swarmed over and surrounded the two!

Deschamps celebrated with a fist pump on the sidelines, while the Lyon players looked at each other blankly.

This goal completely ignited Monaco's comeback!

53 minutes.

"It's Roy again! He gets the ball on the left wing! Delander doesn't dare to press him; he's retreating!"

Roy received the ball near the center line on the left flank, and Delander immediately moved forward to defend, but kept a two-step distance and dared not rush in to intercept.

He was afraid of being passed over, but even more afraid of committing a foul and getting a card.

Roy dribbled forward, while Delander retreated while keeping an eye on his movements.

"Sudden change of direction!"

Roy pushed forward with his right foot, feigning an inside cut to the center, and Delander immediately shifted his weight inward. But in that instant, Roy flicked his right ankle, using the inside of his foot to cut the ball towards the byline!
"Accelerate! Take off from the outside and overpower the opponent!!!"

Roy burst forward, forcefully overtaking from the outside! Delander hurriedly turned around to chase, but he was already half a beat too late. He reached out to grab him but didn't dare, and could only watch helplessly as Roy shook him off and rushed to the baseline.

"A perfect cross!"

Roy took a step back, curled a ball with his right foot, the speed of which was neither too fast nor too slow, just enough to bypass Edmilson at the near post and drop precisely to the far post!
"Find Pulso!"

The Croatian striker leaped high at the far post, outjumping Casapa, and unleashed a powerful header! The ball headed straight for the bottom right corner of the goal! Coupet made a diving save, but it was too late!

3-2! Monaco pulls back another goal!
Pulso ran off in celebration, Roy pointed at him and laughed, while Delander stood still, shaking his hand in annoyance.

"A perfect cross! A pinpoint find at the far post by Pulso! He outmaneuvered Casapa! Coupet was helpless! Deschamps' tactical change has paid off! Roy is thriving on the left wing! Delander has already received a yellow card and is now completely hesitant to make any moves! Watch the replay! That change of direction was brilliant! A feint with his right foot, a flick of his ankle and he changed direction! A textbook winger breakthrough!"

"The Stade Gerland suddenly fell silent! Lyon fans couldn't believe their eyes! The Monaco bench erupted! Deschamps was raising his arms and shouting on the sidelines! And Le Guen's face was ashen! This goal completely changed the momentum of the game! Pulso celebrated wildly! This was his second goal of the season! But the credit goes to Roy! This young man completely dominated the left flank today!"

"Look at Delander's expression! Frustrated! Dejected! He's been completely outplayed by Roy! Just a reminder to the viewers, this is Roy's third successful dribble of the game! All of them happened in the second half! All of them happened on the left wing! Delander needs support!"

61 minutes.

Roy received another pass from Evra on the left side of midfield, skillfully dribbled the ball, turned, and surged forward along the left flank.

Lyon manager Le Guen finally couldn't sit still any longer and waved to Essien: "Go to the left wing! Lock down Roy!"

The beast from Ghana charged toward Roy, and Delander immediately stepped forward, forming a double-team!
When Roy saw Essien coming to help defend, he slowed down his dribbling speed.

Essien strode closer, while Delander maintained a distance of one meter.

Just as the two were about to close in, Roy suddenly activated!

Essien's right foot swept over the ball, feigning a breakthrough to the right, causing his center of gravity to shift slightly!
His left foot followed immediately, another feint, and Delander was tricked into taking a half step back!

In the instant the two hesitated, he quickly flicked the ball to the left with the inside of his right foot, followed immediately by a push with his left foot.

Fried meatballs!

The ball, like a butterfly flitting among flowers, slipped through the gap between the two!
In a moment of panic, Delander slid down and tackled, his cleats scraping Roy's ankle.

Roy swayed slightly, but managed to maintain his balance by bracing himself with his hands as he fell, and continued dribbling forward.

Seeing this, Diarra hurriedly covered for the ball, but Roy got there first and poked the ball forward, then accelerated to chase after it.

On the left side of the penalty area, he made a slight adjustment and curled a shot with the inside of his right foot.

The ball drew a beautiful arc and flew straight into the top right corner of the goal!

Despite Coupet's best efforts, he was powerless to stop the attack!

"BUUUUUT!!! Roy! Roy! An incredible goal! Monaco has equalized!"

"Look at that breakthrough! Facing a double-team from Essien and Delland, Roy dribbled past both of them with a beautiful croquet move! Delland's reckless tackle couldn't stop him!"

"That was a spectacular shot! A perfect arc, right into the top corner! Coupet had no chance!"

"The referee shows a red card! Delander receives his second yellow card and is sent off! Lyon's situation is further compounded!"

"From 0-3 to 3-3! Monaco staged an incredible comeback! And all of this is thanks to Roy's magical performance! Monaco's devil completely dominated the left flank today!"

The referee's whistle pierced the field as he strode toward Delander, his right hand already reaching into his pocket.

Delanders stood there, his face ashen; he knew he was finished.

"Second yellow card! Red card!"

Delander walked slowly to the sidelines with his head down, met with deafening boos from the Lyon fans, but mostly with a desperate silence.

Monaco players surrounded the referee and applauded, while Deschamps practically rushed onto the field from the sidelines, his fists clenched white as he roared, "That's how you play! Keep going! Keep going!"

Le Guen slumped on the coach's bench, his face ashen, as if he had aged ten years in an instant.

The teaching assistants around him looked at each other, but no one spoke.

Roy stood there, his chest heaving, sweat streaming down his face.

He opened his arms, only to be overwhelmed by his teammates rushing towards him in the next second.

Morientes was the first to rush up and roughly ruffle his hair, while Pulso grabbed him from behind and yelled in his ear, "You're a fucking monster!"

The away fans in the stands went completely wild. Red and white pyrotechnics were lit, and the entire away stand was enveloped in billowing smoke. Fans waved scarves and chanted hysterically.

"The Demon King is the Demon King! The Champion is the Champion! You'll still be calling us Champions next year at this time!!!"

The camera pans across the Lyon fans' stands.

Benzema slumped in his seat, his eyes vacant, his lips trembling slightly.

He stared at the replay on the big screen, watching Roy's breakthroughs, shots, and celebrations over and over again.

The veteran assistant coach, Jean Petit, slowly walked to Ribery's side, patted him on the shoulder, and whispered:

"From now on, we don't need to watch Giggs's videos anymore, let's watch Roy's instead."

Ribery didn't say anything, he just stared intently at the number 10 on the field, his fingers unconsciously digging into his thigh.

80 minutes.

Deschamps made his final substitution, replacing Pulso with 36-year-old veteran Caniggia.

Argentina's "Son of the Wind" jogged onto the field slowly, adjusting his shin guards as he ran.

Benzema sat on the bench and saw the fourth official raise the substitution board – number 9 off, number 20 on.

He narrowed his eyes, watching the 36-year-old man slowly run onto the field, a cold smile unconsciously creeping onto his lips.

"Ha!" He nudged his teammate with his elbow and whispered, "See? Deschamps chickened out! He's bringing on an old guy to try and secure a draw?"

He leaned back, crossed his legs, and said with a hint of mockery, "Let them do whatever they want. What can an old man who's about to retire do? We just need to hold onto this point!"

87 minutes.

Roy received the ball again on the left wing, facing Lyon's substitute right-back Patrick Müller.

He first feigned a cut inside, then suddenly accelerated to the outside! Muller was a fraction of a second too slow to turn and was left two body lengths behind!

Roy dribbled to the byline, but instead of crossing, he used the instep of his right foot to deliver a precise cutback pass! The ball skimmed along the grass towards the edge of the penalty area!
Giuly arrived quickly and, facing the onrushing Edmilson, calmly cut inside with his right foot, passing the ball to Caniggia who was making a run down the right flank!
The Argentine veteran took a step back and used his left foot to push the ball into the far corner of the goal from near the 12-yard spot!
Coupet made a desperate save, but the angle was too tricky!

Caniggia ran towards the corner flag with his arms outstretched. The 36-year-old "Son of the Wind" had long, flowing hair and looked as if he had returned to his peak!
Roy was the first to rush up and jump on his back to celebrate, while Giuly knelt on the ground and roared to the sky!
The Monaco bench went absolutely wild, with the assistant coaches huddled together.

Deschamps clenched his fists, and the wrinkles on his face smoothed out.

Le Guen angrily pulled the fourth official aside, attempting to investigate whether there might be an offside situation.

The away fans erupted in deafening cheers, and red smoke rose again.

Some fans even tried to climb over the fence and rush onto the field, waving scarves and singing the team song.

The Lyon players were stunned, and Essien stood there with his hands on his hips, his eyes vacant.

Benzema sat in the stands with his head covered by his jersey.

As Caniggia walked back to his half of the field, panting, Roy caught up and patted him on the shoulder.

"You guys play differently," the veteran suddenly spoke, sweat streaming down his wrinkles, "and you're not as strong as him either. For now!"

He turned and looked Roy straight in the eye, then suddenly laughed: "No, no one is better than him! But that feeling of being able to trust him at any time... you're a bit like Diego."

"No, only temporarily!"

Roy's words made Caniggia stop in her tracks.

The veteran turned around, his long golden hair sticking to his cheeks with sweat, and a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes, which had witnessed countless battles.

“For now!” Roy emphasized again, his young face full of determination.

He nodded, as if agreeing with Caniggia's assessment, but then raised his chin: "One day I will be better than Diego Maradona!"

Caniggia's lips slowly curled into a playful smile.

He reached out to ruffle Roy's hair, just like Maradona had done to him years ago.

But Roy's eyes suddenly sharpened. He slightly raised his chin and spoke in a low but clear voice: "Sooner or later, when I see Diego, I will look him in the eye and say—'Listen, Diego, I play better than you.'"

Caniggia's smile suddenly froze.

He slowly straightened up, squinting as he sized up the arrogant young man before him.

“Interesting.” His voice suddenly turned low. “A young punk once said something similar to me.”

"That guy's name is Ortega. Later in the World Cup, he was so scared by just one look from Diego that his legs went weak."

Roy's tone was dangerously calm, like the sea before a storm.

This is not the arrogant boast of a teenager, but the absolute confidence of a top player in his own abilities.

"you"

Caniggia's Adam's apple bobbed as he suddenly realized that the 18-year-old was serious.

It's not the kind of idol worship fans have for their idols, but rather a young man aspiring to be king formally declaring war on an old king.

Caniggia seemed to imagine it in a daze.

When I was still a greenhorn.

In 1986, in the locker room, did Maradona also say to Pelé's poster, "I will surpass you!"

--------

I've thought about it for a long time, and I still think Ronaldo shouldn't go to Arsenal because he's a guaranteed win but not an immediate asset.

Arsenal desperately need a striker, and a deal has already been reached in the summer transfer window. The budget needs to be reserved for buying Reyes in the winter transfer window, as the manager cannot afford anything over ten million.

(End of this chapter)