When the referee blew the final whistle, a deafening roar erupted across the Amsterdam Arena.
More than 50,000 Ajax fans rose as one from their seats, erupting into thunderous cheers, waving scarves, and chanting in unison. Red and white flares lit up the stands, and the echoes of "Ajax! Ajax!" reverberated through the steel and concrete of their beloved home ground.
On the giant scoreboard, the final score shone brightly in red:
Ajax 1 - 0 Real Madrid
(Aggregate: Ajax 4 - 1 Real Madrid)
A single goal from Steven Pienaar in the first half had sealed the victory on the night, but the story of the match belonged to someone else.
No one—neither the 50,000 in the stands nor the millions watching across Europe—could deny who the best player on the pitch was.
Number 11.
Yang Yang.
He didn't score, but he was everywhere. His name constantly rang out from the loudspeakers, from the commentators' lips, and most powerfully, from the throats of the Ajax faithful.
Moments after the whistle, UEFA officials confirmed what everyone already knew—Yang Yang had been named Man of the Match.
The stats only told part of the story. One assist—yes, the beautifully weighted diagonal ball to Pienaar that opened the scoring—but more than that, Yang Yang had carved Real Madrid's defense open time and again. He beat Ramos with pace, drew Escudé out of position with intelligent runs, and created clear-cut chances for Yaya Touré, Sneijder, and Ryan Babel.
Had those been converted, the scoreline would have been brutal.
But numbers aside, what impressed most was his command of the game. The urgency he injected into each Ajax move. The way he stretched Real Madrid vertically, forcing them to defend in chaos and recover constantly. It was a masterclass—not just of pace and technique, but of reading the game, leading the line, and embodying Ajax's attacking spirit.
From the moment he stepped on the pitch, Yang Yang had played like a man possessed.
It was no wonder that after the match, as the players did their lap of honour, Yang Yang received the loudest ovation. The chants of his name echoed again and again across the Amsterdam night.
The fans knew what they had witnessed. They saw who had carried Ajax through the fiercest storm.
In this young Ajax team, only two players could truly be called irreplaceable.
One was Yang Yang—the team's talisman, its most dangerous attacker, and a vocal leader in the locker room.
The other was Wesley Sneijder—brilliant and tireless, orchestrating the midfield, dictating tempo, and increasingly stepping up with goals and assists from deep.
Yaya Touré had been exceptional—his growth this season had been stunning, blending strength with elegance, and box-to-box dominance. But in terms of pure indispensability, it was still Yang Yang and Sneijder who stood above the rest.
And then there was the defense.
If Ajax had one flaw, it was there. From goalkeeper Maarten Stekelenburg to the back four, the defense remained Ajax's weakest link—prone to lapses, vulnerable against elite finishing. It had been that way even in their miraculous Champions League-winning run two seasons ago. Their success had always come from pressing high, dominating the midfield, and scoring more than they conceded.
But tonight?
Tonight, they didn't just outscore Real Madrid over two legs. They outplayed them. Outworked them. Outran them.
With a 4–1 aggregate, they sent the Spanish giants crashing out. The same Real Madrid whose Galáctico era had begun with such fanfare—Beckham, Zidane, Ronaldo—was now a shadow of itself, disassembled by a team led by a 19-year-old Chinese forward with 38 league goals and a fire in his heart.
Ajax were through to the quarter-finals of the UEFA Champions League.
There were no illusions about another miracle. No one in Amsterdam expected to win the whole thing. Not this time. The 2004 triumph had been lightning in a bottle—an alignment of youth, boldness, and chaos across Europe's elite.
This was different.
This was progress. This was re-emergence.
Quarter-finals was already a success—especially for a team of such youth and modest financial means. A small club, relatively speaking, standing tall again on the continent.
They had slain a giant.
And now, the whole of Europe had taken notice.
...
...
As the final whistle echoed across the Amsterdam Arena and the roar of the crowd swelled once more, Yang Yang didn't immediately join the celebration.
Instead, he turned and walked toward Julien Escudé, the Real Madrid center-back standing nearest to him.
Escudé, a former teammate from Yang Yang's early days in Ajax's first team, had endured a difficult spell in Madrid. Rumors had circulated for weeks that he was among the players Real Madrid were preparing to offload in their summer rebuild. His ability was not in question—Escudé had proven his quality—but being a central defender at a club like Real Madrid was always a precarious position, especially during unstable times.
Yang Yang reached him and offered a firm embrace.
"You did well tonight," he said sincerely.
Escudé returned the hug with genuine warmth. "Congratulations. You were unplayable."
There was no resentment in his voice—only admiration. He had seen Yang Yang break into the Ajax senior team as a skinny, determined teenager. Now, only two years later, he had become one of Europe's most coveted stars. Escudé had watched that transformation from the inside, and the first-leg hat trick at the Bernabéu had only reinforced his respect.
"Keep working," Yang Yang encouraged, clasping his hand.
Escudé nodded, his expression serious. "I will."
Other players were approaching now, so Yang Yang turned and found another familiar face—Rafael van der Vaart.
The former golden boy of Dutch football, once the undisputed darling of the Amsterdam Arena, had entered the match as a second-half substitute. But his impact had been minimal.
At Real Madrid, things had never quite clicked for him. The talent was still there, but the circumstances had changed.
In the Netherlands, van der Vaart was a focal point. Ajax had built around him, nurtured him, and shielded him when necessary. At the Bernabéu, he was just another face in a squad packed with egos, reputations, and political maneuverings. There was no room for special treatment—only survival.
Yang Yang offered a warm handshake, then pulled him in.
"It's okay," he said quietly. "We all believe in you."
Van der Vaart gave a half-smile and a shake of the head—equal parts gratitude and helplessness. The Spanish press had already included him on the list of players Real Madrid were looking to offload in the summer. He hadn't complained publicly, but it was clear the situation was wearing on him.
He had gone to Madrid full of dreams—to prove himself on one of football's grandest stages. But the reality had been sobering. The midfield spots were dominated by legends: Zidane, Beckham, Guti. Even younger arrivals like Robinho and Cassano were fighting for scraps of playing time. In such an environment, van der Vaart's creative style found no space to breathe.
He leaned in and lowered his voice.
"Just between us," he said, "I have to tell you—don't go. Bernabéu's a mess."
Yang Yang met his eyes and nodded. "I understand. Thank you."
He patted van der Vaart on the chest. "In China, we have a saying: 'The tree dies standing still; the person lives by moving.' Sometimes short pain is better than dragging it out."
Van der Vaart understood. His opportunity in Madrid had not just stalled—it had disappeared. Two years of waiting had produced little but frustration.
They exchanged a final handshake, and Yang Yang moved on.
He greeted the Real Madrid players he had shared the pitch with: Ronaldo, Raul, Zidane, Beckham, Guti. The gestures were polite, professional—firm handshakes, brief nods, the occasional few words of mutual respect.
Robinho lingered a moment longer. The Brazilian smiled and said warmly, "I hope we get to play together sometime. Maybe in Madrid?"
Yang Yang smiled back, noncommittal. "We'll see."
But beyond those brief interactions, the mood in the Madrid camp was subdued. Defeat had been expected after the 3–1 loss at the Bernabéu, and the resignation of Florentino Pérez had thrown the club into further disarray. Even the superstars seemed distracted, uncertain of what came next.
For fans, matches are about what happens on the field. But for those within the sport, they know the truth: what unfolds during ninety minutes is just the public surface of a much deeper structure—contracts, fitness programs, training regimens, medical teams, strategy sessions, and the broader environment of club management.
Tonight's result didn't just reflect Ajax's superiority on the pitch—it exposed Real Madrid's decline off it.
The Galáctico era had glamor, but beneath the lights and headlines, the foundation was fragile.
Yang Yang, still only nineteen, could already see it clearly. Real Madrid was a club chasing its own myth. Ajax, with all its flaws and limitations, had something Madrid lacked: direction, hunger, unity.
And tonight, that had made all the difference.
...
...
Ajax's 1–0 home victory over Real Madrid, sealing a 4–1 aggregate triumph, sent shockwaves across the footballing world.
In the wake of the match, headlines blazed across Europe and beyond. For the second consecutive season, Real Madrid had crashed out of the UEFA Champions League in the round of 16. This latest humiliation came just days after the resignation of club president Florentino Pérez, throwing the Spanish giants into turmoil. The Galácticos project was once again under heavy scrutiny.
Amidst the wreckage of Madrid's exit, one name was on everyone's lips: Yang Yang.
The 19-year-old Chinese forward didn't just outshine Real Madrid's constellation of superstars—he dominated over both legs. His hat-trick at the Bernabéu and decisive performance in Amsterdam had captured the imagination of fans and media alike. It wasn't just about flair or pace—it was maturity, decision-making, and technical quality. In two matches against one of the biggest clubs in football history, he was the standout figure.
All around Europe, attention now turned to the full quarterfinal lineup.
AC Milan, after drawing 1–1 away to Bayern Munich, returned to the San Siro and overwhelmed the Germans 4–1 in the second leg, advancing with a 5–2 aggregate. Shevchenko and Kaká led the charge in what was considered a statement performance.
Meanwhile, Ajax's domestic rivals PSV Eindhoven fared far worse. Having lost several key players in the previous summer, Hiddink's side was dismantled by Lyon. A 0–1 defeat at home was followed by a brutal 0–4 away loss in France, making it 0–5 on aggregate. Dutch pundits and fans couldn't help but draw contrast: while PSV regressed, Ajax, driven by Yang Yang's brilliance, surged forward in Europe.
In the Eredivisie, the gulf was also clear. Ajax sat top of the league with 73 points—seven points ahead of PSV—and looked the dominant side. One Dutch analyst calculated that without Yang Yang's goals, Ajax would sit fourth in the table. His contributions had been that decisive.
Elsewhere in Europe, the Champions League produced plenty of drama.
Villarreal drew 3–3 on aggregate with Rangers, but the Spanish side advanced via the away goals rule. The "Yellow Submarine," powered by Juan Román Riquelme and Diego Forlán, continued their fairytale run, establishing themselves as one of the tournament's surprise packages.
Juventus also advanced through the away goals rule, having drawn 4–4 over two legs with Werder Bremen. Del Piero and Ibrahimović had both played their parts, but questions remained about Juve's defensive vulnerabilities.
Chelsea's journey came to a bitter end. Mourinho's side lost 2–1 at Stamford Bridge to Barcelona, then could only manage a 1–1 draw at Camp Nou. The elimination raised questions over the Blues' attacking creativity on the European stage.
Arsenal, however, stunned many by knocking out Inter Milan. A 1–1 draw at Highbury was followed by a 2–1 away victory at the San Siro. Thierry Henry was at his majestic best, leading a well-drilled Gunners side into the quarterfinals.
And then there was the most shocking exit: Liverpool, the reigning European champions, were ousted by Benfica. A 1–0 defeat in Lisbon followed by a 2–0 loss at Anfield left Rafa Benítez's men out without scoring a single goal across two legs.
Benítez didn't mince words after the game.
"We need a forward who can score 20-plus goals a season," he said in the post-match press conference.
According to British tabloids, Benítez had submitted a shortlist to the Liverpool board—his top target: Yang Yang of Ajax.
In addition to the Chinese sensation, the list also included Valencia's David Villa and Atlético Madrid's young captain Fernando Torres. But Yang Yang, with nine goals in the Champions League so far, had surged past the likes of Shevchenko, Ronaldinho, and Eto'o on the scoring charts. The world was watching.
For many, his performance against Real Madrid was not just a breakout—it was a statement.
Yang Yang was no longer just a rising star.
He was already standing among the elite.