"Over the past few seasons, the defeats suffered by Ancelotti's AC Milan can generally be classified into three distinct patterns."
It was the morning of the match. Inside the hotel's conference room, Ajax's coaching staff had gathered the players for their final tactical meeting. The goal was to ensure complete clarity on the game plan before facing one of Europe's most formidable sides.
Ronald Koeman stood at the front, remote in hand, his tone firm but calm.
"The first way to beat Milan is with pace—hitting them early and hard."
As soon as he spoke, a clip began playing on the screen behind him: Deportivo La Coruña's legendary 4–0 victory over Milan. Irueta's team had launched aggressive attacks from the outset, particularly targeting Milan's right side. The relentless pressing and fast breaks completely overwhelmed the Italian giants.
"Milan couldn't cope," Koeman noted. "They were outpaced and outplayed."
He clicked the remote again, switching the video.
"The second case is more surprising to some—last season's Champions League final. Milan were up 3–0, but still lost. That kind of collapse isn't just about mentality. It's tactical."
He paused for emphasis.
"We've analyzed numerous matches. There's a recurring pattern with Milan—distinct drops in performance between the first and second halves. The reason is rooted in their system."
"The third type of defeat comes when Milan perform well throughout, but are undone by one moment—an individual mistake or a stroke of brilliance from the opponent. But we'll focus on the first two today."
As Koeman finished, the presentation behind him shifted to a slide of statistics and tactical breakdowns.
"Last season, Johan Cruyff referred to Ancelotti's Milan as a 'departure from traditional Italian football.' He was referring to Pirlo's role—positioned as a deep-lying playmaker rather than an attacking midfielder. It was viewed as innovative at the time."
He pointed at the trio of names now displayed on the screen.
"Pirlo, Seedorf, Gattuso. It's a well-balanced midfield. Pirlo dictates from deep, Gattuso provides defensive cover, and Seedorf connects play. Together, they offer control and fluidity in transition."
"This midfield setup is considered one of the most functional and technically balanced in Europe."
Koeman turned to face the players.
"And against such a midfield, trying to dominate possession directly is suicidal. You don't fight fire with fire—you look for weak points."
He clicked again.
"In the past 20 years, Milan has had three great eras. Sacchi's pressing game, Capello's defensive discipline, and now Ancelotti's control-based structure. Each has been dominant in its own way."
Most players in the room nodded—they were familiar with the pedigree.
"But all of us here know that possession football has its limits. It requires constant movement. Movement requires stamina. And Milan, collectively, has the oldest average age in this competition."
Koeman gestured toward another data chart now on the screen.
"That's why they often dominate only one half. Either the first, or the second. Rarely both."
At that moment, Yang Yang leaned forward slightly, something clicking in his mind.
He remembered Arsenal.
The first time he played against them, he noticed one thing: their players ran. Constantly. Relentlessly.
Arsenal's midfield at the time had featured Pires, Vieira, Gilberto Silva, and Ljungberg. A mix of flair and steel. On paper, their setup looked rigid, but in practice it was dynamic—largely because of how much ground each player covered.
Yang Yang had come to understand that pass-and-move football didn't depend solely on technique. It lived and died by movement off the ball. As long as the passing distances were short—around ten meters—any top-level team could maintain a high completion rate.
But running those ten meters, again and again, in the right moment, in the right direction?
That required more than just fitness. It demanded anticipation, reading of the game, and synchronized thinking across the squad.
After facing Arsenal a few more times, Yang Yang noticed another trend: they always started the season strong but faded after the winter break. Injuries and fatigue caught up. Their high-tempo style broke down because they couldn't sustain the off-ball movement.
And now, he saw the same vulnerability in Milan.
Except Milan's average age made it even worse.
Players often didn't feel the drop-off until after they hit thirty. But once they did, it was sharp. One year at that stage could make a significant difference—and no amount of training or sports science could completely reverse it.
Maldini and others had continued playing at a high level, thanks largely to the team's ability to keep the ball and slow the game down. But when they were forced to chase—when their opponents made them run—they were exposed.
That, Yang Yang thought, was exactly what had happened against Liverpool in Istanbul. Milan looked dominant in the first half. Then the intensity dropped, the rhythm broke, and they collapsed.
Of course, Liverpool played well—but Milan's physical limitations and tactical complacency were just as responsible.
Ajax, being a team that also focused heavily on possession and control, understood this better than most.
"In fact, AC Milan's performances in the Champions League this season have been significantly inferior to their showings in Serie A," Ronald Koeman continued, pacing slowly in front of the players.
"Statistically, their signature ball-dominant style—what some call 'oppressive control'—has notably declined on the European stage."
A slide appeared behind him showing group stage results and ball possession data.
"Yes, they demolished Bayern Munich 4–1 at the San Siro—an excellent performance. But outside of that, their group stage results were underwhelming. Apart from a 4–0 win over Fenerbahçe in Istanbul, Milan were largely unimpressive. Their grip on the rhythm of games wasn't nearly as tight as we've seen domestically."
He looked at the players, gauging their reactions before continuing.
"And the explanation is simple. In the Champions League, they face better, faster, more physically demanding opponents than in Serie A. So, in response, they've sacrificed a level of control in exchange for a more cautious setup—dropping their defensive line, playing deeper, and hitting on the counter."
He pointed at a highlight clip of Kaka.
"And that plays perfectly into the strengths of someone like Kaka."
Yang Yang, seated near the front, nodded slightly to himself. Koeman's breakdown was illuminating.
Every player, he realized, shines brightest when the tactical framework amplifies their strengths.
At the moment, Milan's modified style—defending deeper, then attacking with speed and space—was ideal for Kaka. It gave him the chance to explode with the ball at his feet in transition, facing unsettled defensive lines.
By the same token, Ajax's structure, with its emphasis on coordinated pressing and short-passing combinations, brought out the best in Yang Yang's own qualities.
But it also reminded him of something else—something more sobering.
Tactics could elevate a player, or suppress them.
And if one day the tactics no longer suited him—if a coach chose a different path—what then?
That thought ignited a quiet fire in his heart. He needed to become more than just a player who fit into a system. He needed to become the kind of player a system was built around.
Koeman's voice cut back in.
"Given Milan's tendency to absorb pressure and strike on the break, we have to take the initiative from the start. Away from home or not, we must press aggressively and look to score early."
Another tactical slide appeared behind him—Milan's typical 4-3-1-2 shape.
"Now, we don't know exactly how Ancelotti will line up, but there's one thing we can be sure of: Seedorf, Pirlo, and Gattuso will form the midfield triangle."
He pointed to the wide channels.
"The vulnerability lies here. With Pirlo alone at the base of midfield, the flanks—the half-spaces on either side of him—are Milan's weak points. We must target those spaces, get numbers there early, and move the ball quickly. That's where we'll find the breakthrough."
"As long as we get a goal, they'll be forced to come out and play—which takes them away from the counter-attacking shape they've become dependent on."
The analysis was sharp. Ajax's coaching staff had clearly done their homework. Koeman's plan targeted Milan's structural fragility.
But, Yang Yang knew, things rarely unfolded exactly as planned.
Ancelotti was no fool. He would have reviewed Ajax's tendencies just as thoroughly, and he would surely anticipate this very approach.
And then there was Ajax's own vulnerability—its defense.
"Our problem remains at the back," Koeman admitted. "We aren't built to sit deep and absorb pressure. If we retreat too much, we'll suffer. Milan has aerial threats, and players who thrive in the chaos of broken play."
He turned back to the players.
"Gilardino is strong in the air, especially on second balls and scrappy chances in the box. And then there's Shevchenko—fast, intelligent, complete. Inzaghi is unpredictable, always on the shoulder of the last defender, always looking to beat the offside trap."
He clicked again, showing a series of clips featuring Milan's strikers.
"Oddly enough, when Ancelotti uses any two of them together, the chemistry isn't always there. On paper, it looks perfect—different styles, theoretically complementary—but for some reason, the partnerships haven't consistently worked."
Koeman gave a brief, half-smile.
"Football doesn't always obey logic. Sometimes it's about rhythm, not balance."
He turned serious again.
"If I had to guess, I'd say Ancelotti will go with Gilardino. They're at home, and they'll want a physical reference point up front."
Yang Yang leaned back slightly, arms crossed. His mind had wandered to Vieri—thankfully no longer at Milan. The former Italian target man had joined Monaco in January.
If he were still in the squad, defending would've been a nightmare for the Ajax backline.
Heitinga and Vermaelen, excellent as they were in timing and positioning, simply didn't have the size to handle that kind of brute force.
"Still," Koeman added, "even if Vieri were here, it's not certain Ancelotti would use him. His form was poor, and Milan already have enough attacking tools."
...
"Everyone!"
Ronald Koeman's voice cut sharply through the room as he clapped his hands firmly, drawing every eye toward him.
"This match… will be a war. For us, it's nothing less than a Champions League final!"
The atmosphere in the hotel conference room instantly shifted. Players sat up straighter, eyes narrowing with focus. There was no need to remind them: this was the quarter-finals of the UEFA Champions League, and they were about to enter the lion's den that was San Siro.
Koeman allowed the moment to settle before continuing, his tone firm but galvanizing.
"But as I've said before—AC Milan are not invincible. They have weaknesses, and we've done our homework. We've prepared for this."
He paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air.
"We are not without a chance. Not even here."
Nods began to ripple across the room. The tension remained, but it was now laced with conviction.
"As long as we work as one unit, as long as we remain disciplined and committed—together—we can walk away from their fortress with something in hand. Maybe even a victory."
He raised his fist slightly.
"We've come too far to back down now."
One by one, the players stood from their seats—some with clenched jaws, others exchanging quiet nods of encouragement. The message was clear.
No fear. No retreat.
They were ready.