"Yang Yang, hello! I'm a journalist from Marca. There are reports that you'll be leaving Ajax this summer. Is that true?"
"Sorry, I just want to focus on playing right now — especially with the Champions League knockout round coming up."
"Yang Yang! Over here, from AS. Ronaldo has reportedly decided to leave the Bernabéu. In our poll, you were voted the most suitable successor to him at Real Madrid. What's your reaction to that?"
"I really don't know. Sorry, excuse me."
"Have you already reached some kind of agreement with Florentino Pérez?"
"No. Absolutely not!"
"There are reports in the British press that José Mourinho had a major disagreement with Roman Abramovich over your transfer. Do you have any comment?"
"Did Sir Alex Ferguson really call you personally to invite you to Manchester United?"
"After Massimo Moratti called you the most incredible scorer in Europe since Ronaldo, will we see you at Inter?"
"Benítez said Liverpool might need to sell players to raise €40 million for your transfer. What's your view on that?"
"Is it true that Barcelona have already made contact and that Ajax has agreed to a transfer to Camp Nou?"
...
"Yang Yang, come to the Bernabéu!"
"Welcome to Real Madrid!"
"We need you here, Yang Yang!"
"I'm your biggest fan, Yang Yang! Over here, look this way!"
"Yang Yang! I love you!"
The moment he stepped out of Madrid-Barajas Airport, Yang Yang was swarmed by a chaotic sea of flashing cameras, shouting reporters, and screaming fans.
Microphones and recording devices were shoved in his face. Journalists from all over Europe jostled for position, each trying to land a headline-worthy quote. The chants of supporters echoed through the terminal, a mix of adoration and sheer desperation — a city's hunger for its next Galáctico.
Security had to intervene. Airport personnel formed a makeshift corridor, clearing a narrow, trembling path so Yang Yang and the Ajax delegation could pass through. Even then, the crowd pressed forward like waves breaking against a fragile dam.
And then it happened.
Among the chaos, a rough, raspy voice rang out above the noise.
"Yang Yang! I love you!"
He nearly stumbled right there on the terminal floor. A bearded middle-aged man with a booming voice and Real Madrid scarf was shouting with teary-eyed conviction. If that wasn't unsettling enough, the sincerity in the man's face only added to the confusion.
Nima, Yang Yang thought, stunned. That's something you can't unhear.
It felt like a psychological ambush.
Was this some kind of Madrid mind game? A ploy to rattle him before the match? Disrupt his mental focus ahead of tomorrow's Round of 16 clash?
The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became: it had to be deliberate. A strategy. The Bernabéu played many games — some on the pitch, others off it. This was no exception.
By the time he boarded the team bus, a crowd still surged behind the tinted windows, pounding against the glass and shouting declarations of love, transfer rumors, or both. It was impossible to tell who was a journalist and who was just a diehard fan.
Inside the bus, the Ajax players were mostly silent — until a few began to chuckle. Some leaned toward the windows, watching the crowd outside. Others simply turned toward Yang Yang with thinly veiled awe.
There was no envy in their eyes, not really. Just recognition.
They knew what he had become — Ajax's crown jewel, the undeniable face of the team. The engine, the creator, the finisher, and the emotional anchor. Every one of them, from the veterans to the academy boys, understood: without Yang Yang, this version of Ajax would not exist.
In fact, many at the club were already dreading what came next. Rumors had been circling for weeks, maybe months. Behind closed doors, the boardroom was growing increasingly anxious.
With Yang Yang expected to leave in the summer, how would Ajax replace his 40–50 goals per season?
It had been the same when Rafael van der Vaart left. Then again with Zlatan Ibrahimović. But Yang Yang had filled both gaps — alone. Now, if he also departed, that hole would become a chasm.
The technical staff were quietly worried. They knew they couldn't just "replace" Yang Yang. You don't replace players like him. You endure the void they leave behind.
The hope — or perhaps the desperate bet — was that Ryan Babel could finally step up. That Nicklas Bendtner, still raw but brimming with potential, could take on more responsibility. That somehow, someone would carry the weight Yang Yang bore week after week.
But in truth, no one was sure.
And deep down, even the players knew it: this might be the last ride.
...
...
As early as during the flight to Spain, Ronald Koeman had made his stance absolutely clear: aside from himself and team captain Yang Yang, no one on the Ajax squad was to speak with the media.
The team barely set foot in Madrid before being whisked away from the terminal. After navigating through the fan chaos at Barajas Airport, the players boarded the bus and were taken straight to their hotel, already booked and secured by Ajax staff weeks in advance. Check-in was handled efficiently, and players were sent to their rooms for rest and recovery.
But there was one notable decision that caught a few by surprise.
Koeman cancelled the planned familiarization session at the Santiago Bernabéu Stadium that evening.
To the untrained eye, it might have looked like a missed opportunity. But for Koeman, it was calculated. Tactical. Psychological.
He wasn't just resting legs — he was managing minds.
Koeman knew the Bernabéu was unlike any other ground in world football. It wasn't just a stadium; it was a cathedral. Its towering stands, its grandeur, its ghosts — they whispered history in your ear the moment you stepped onto the pitch. For many, especially the younger players, it could overwhelm.
Real Madrid wasn't just the most successful club of the 20th century — it was a monument to footballing dominance. Despite the recent turbulence surrounding Florentino Pérez's Galáctico project, no one doubted the aura of Los Blancos. The club still had pull. Still had power. Still had prestige.
Real Madrid's name could unnerve even seasoned internationals — what chance did kids from Amsterdam have, many of whom had never even stood on the Bernabéu turf before?
Ajax's current squad was built on youth. The average age was under 23. And while they had lifted the UEFA Champions League trophy two seasons ago, that squad was evolving rapidly. Players came and went, and for several of these young stars, this would be their first time facing the Real Madrid machine on its own soil.
Koeman understood the risks.
He didn't want his players stepping into the stadium the night before and getting lost in the majesty of it all — eyes wide, shoulders tense, overawed by banners, empty seats, and the memory of Zidane's volleys or Raúl's goals.
So instead, he chose to shield them from the mystique.
Keep them in the hotel. Let them recover. Reframe the focus. Treat this as just another away game, even if it was anything but.
After a short rest period upon arrival, Koeman and his coaching staff called for a private tactical meeting in one of the hotel's secured conference rooms — the first official pre-match session on Madrid soil.
...
...
"The current Real Madrid has plenty of problems," Ronald Koeman began, standing confidently before the team in the dimly lit conference room. "First off, Vanderlei Luxemburgo was sacked in December. Juan Ramón López Caro has stepped in as interim head coach, but let's be honest — everyone knows that duplicating what Del Bosque achieved here is nearly impossible."
He paused, scanning the room.
"Caro is not Del Bosque," Koeman continued. "And this version of the Galácticos? They're no longer the Real Madrid of old."
A few players exchanged glances. The gravity of the statement wasn't lost on anyone.
Koeman turned to the whiteboard.
"Back in 2000, when Real Madrid sacked Welshman John Toshack, they turned to Vicente del Bosque, then coaching the youth team. Del Bosque returned to the senior squad for the second time and stabilized them with a more conservative five-man backline. That shift in balance saw them go all the way, culminating in a Champions League final win over Valencia."
"With that turnaround, Del Bosque became one of the most successful coaches in the club's history. For the next three years, even during the Galáctico era, he delivered silverware year after year — until Florentino Pérez sacked him in 2003."
"Since then?" Koeman shrugged. "Not a single major trophy."
He allowed the words to settle for a moment before raising an eyebrow and changing gears.
"Do any of you remember how we turned things around against Real Madrid two years ago, in the quarter-finals?"
Yang Yang didn't hesitate. He glanced around and raised his hand.
Koeman smiled and pointed. "Go ahead, Yang."
The room turned toward him.
Yang Yang stood up, speaking with calm confidence. "It was simple. Real Madrid were afraid of being eliminated. We had played really well in the first leg in Madrid, but once we took the lead, we eased off a bit. They punished us with quick goals."
"But when we came back to Amsterdam for the second leg, we scored early in the first half. At halftime, the boss told us to push harder — more pressing, more aggression, more pressure on their midfield. They couldn't handle it."
A few players nodded in agreement, the memory vivid.
Koeman applauded lightly. "Spot on, Yang. That's exactly it."
The mood in the room lightened slightly, a few smiles exchanged.
Koeman stepped aside and tapped a remote. Behind him, the projection screen lit up, displaying a tactical PowerPoint.
"Real Madrid is flashy. Full of superstars. Great going forward — but utterly unbalanced. Their defensive shape is full of gaps. Their attacking players don't track back, and that leaves their back line exposed. Horribly exposed."
He clicked again.
"These are their losses this season: six defeats in La Liga, two in the Champions League against Lyon, and one humiliation in the Copa del Rey — a 6–1 thrashing by Zaragoza."
The screen cut to video highlights.
Koeman let the footage play without commentary. The room grew quiet as scenes of disarray unfolded: Milito breaking through unchallenged, defenders stranded, midfielders jogging back too late, and Ronaldinho slicing through them at the Bernabéu like a man on a mission.
Yang Yang studied the footage carefully. The pattern was obvious.
Quick transitions. Diagonal runs into the half-spaces. Every team that beat Madrid attacked through the flanks or ran directly at the space behind their high line. But the common thread? A striker who could hold the ball under pressure and still push the tempo — someone like Diego Milito, who had torn them apart for Zaragoza.
Then came the clip of Barcelona's 3–0 away win, where Ronaldinho scored twice and assisted once — each play exploiting the exact same weakness: Real's vulnerable defensive spine.
When the screen dimmed again, Koeman turned around.
"I told you," he said firmly. "Even a team of superstars collapses when the structure is weak."
He gave the team a moment to reflect before continuing.
"Real Madrid made a rare move during the winter break — they signed Thomas Gravesen from Everton. That should tell you everything. For a club obsessed with galácticos, signing a workhorse defensive midfielder is a cry for help."
"Gravesen is a fighter — aggressive, physical, tenacious. He sits right in front of the back four, like a vacuum cleaner cleaning up after Zidane and Guti. He's their bandage. But if we move the ball through his zone quickly, he won't be able to react in time."
Koeman's voice sharpened.
"That's where our attack must strike — pace through the middle, quick link-up play, and precise passing into the channels."
He looked around.
"We'll need someone in the front line who can absorb pressure, hold the ball up, and initiate the counter — someone with touch, awareness, and acceleration."
Eyes naturally turned to Yang Yang.
It was no surprise.
Over the last three years, Yang Yang had transformed. Through relentless training, his first touch had become one of the best in the entire squad. Whether it was a drilled pass, a lofted ball, or a bouncing clearance, he could control it — instantly and cleanly.
He was no longer just fast — he was efficient.
"Zidane and Guti are their creative axis," Koeman said, pointing back to the screen. "Cut them off, and Madrid's rhythm dies."
"That's why we'll play with two pure defensive midfielders — Galásek and De Jong. Yaya Touré is available as well, and he'll be ready off the bench."
"Wesley," he said, turning to Sneijder, "you'll operate just ahead of them. As soon as we win possession, your job is to transition quickly — look for Yang immediately. He's our outlet."
"Both flanks will be wide and aggressive — we'll stretch them. De Jong on the right. Pienaar on the left, tucked in slightly. Let's make them run."
Koeman turned to the tactical board and began drawing lines.
The formation took shape — a 4-2-3-1, but with dynamic flexibility.
Yang Yang as the lone forward up front.
Sneijder just behind, ready to press high and support on counters.
Pienaar on the left, cutting inside.
Galásek and De Jong as holding midfielder.
Maxwell and Maicon encouraged to push up on the overlap when Ajax counterattacked.
Koeman slammed his marker down and jabbed a finger at the center of the Real Madrid midfield.
"Trust me," he said with conviction, "their problems are still there."
"Disrupt their midfield, break quickly, and we'll tear them apart."