Every blue figure on the pitch froze in place.
César was the first to react, collapsing to his knees in utter disbelief.
"That… GOAL!"
"My God! What just happened? Is this real?!"
"Su Hang! Su Hang scores directly from a free kick!"
"Holy crap, my hair's standing on end!"
"Wait—wasn't that the Figo and Roberto Carlos free kick combo?"
"How does Su Hang know that move?"
"Thing is, his free kicks have never been great. He only scored once before, and even pulled a thigh muscle doing it."
"Su Hang's not known for his Curled Shot. You can tell from his passing—everything he does is straight and direct, no curve."
"But still… unbelievable."
"So what happened? Did Su Hang ask Zidane to take the free kick, then convince Carlos—someone he's not on good terms with—to help fake out the Inter players?"
"Why would Carlos agree to help him? Wasn't it rumored that Su Hang's Spanish clique had completely fallen out with the Brazilian clique?"
Carlos: Try refusing me sometime. See how it feels when you can't breathe.
On the pitch, after scoring, Su Hang immediately turned and sprinted toward Roberto Carlos.
Carlos looked visibly awkward.
"I knew it! They're all terrified of your free kicks!" Su Hang shouted as he wrapped his arms around the shorter Brazilian.
Soon, the rest of the teammates rushed over to celebrate.
Carlos hesitated at first, but the thrill of the goal quickly broke through the awkwardness.
Sometimes, it only takes one moment to feel like part of the team again.
"Su Hang!"
"Su Hang!"
"Su Hang!"
The Bernabéu erupted.
2–1!
Real Madrid led Inter Milan 2–1.
That made the aggregate score 3–3 over both legs, with each side having one away goal.
A perfect stalemate.
This goal would completely change the rhythm of the match.
All the tactical adjustments and halftime plans Mancini had prepared—everything was now useless.
In the second half, Inter would have to go all-in on attack, clashing head-on with Real Madrid.
No more sitting back and waiting for scraps.
Never underestimate that fifteen-minute halftime break.
It's the most crucial communication window—the period when a coach can exert the greatest influence on a match.
In-game instructions usually reach only one or two players, who then have to pass the message around.
Or they're conveyed through a few simple gestures.
It's impossible to execute complex plans that way, and mistakes spread easily.
Nihilism says everything is a process spiraling out of control, moving toward destruction—therefore life has no meaning.
That idea is pessimistic and wrong, but it can help explain something.
For a head coach, a football match is a gradual loss of control.
At kickoff, everything goes according to plan. Then variables multiply, and the game drifts beyond their grasp.
Only a goal or a dead ball lets them reset.
For a dribbler, ball control is the same—it's the process of losing control over time.
Unless they stop and start again, the ball will eventually slip away.
That's why a goal just before halftime is what both managers hate most.
...
Sure enough, when the second half began, Inter Milan came out more aggressive—but without any tactical surprises.
They were going to fight Real Madrid head-on.
Exactly what Real Madrid wanted.
Ronaldo. Zidane. Su Hang.
Who's afraid of whom?
Don't underestimate Su Hang. He might still be young, but he'd already scored nine goals in this season's Champions League—leading the scoring chart outright!
Nine goals, baby!
In the 48th minute, Zidane dribbled down the flank and was brought down by Stanković.
Yellow card.
In the 51st minute, the first major change came.
Real Madrid's right-back Cicinho, who'd been outstanding all season, was tackled hard by Córdoba while dribbling.
He went down instantly and didn't get up.
The medical team rushed in and quickly called for a stretcher.
Cicinho was done for the night.
Third captain Salgado came on—his first appearance in a long while.
He wasn't in great form this season.
Good defensively, yes—but going forward, especially in terms of pace, he couldn't compare to Cicinho.
In the 57th minute, Verón, with his back to goal, used a slick feint to get past Guti.
Embarrassed and angry, Guti chased him down with both hands and feet, earning himself a yellow card.
Technical players hate it when someone shows off skills in front of them.
It wasn't the first time Guti had lost his temper.
That card was totally unnecessary.
Then, in the 60th minute, something shocking happened.
After a Real Madrid corner kick flew into the stands, both teams started moving out of the box.
Madrid players quickly retreated, ready to reorganize.
Inter players moved forward, preparing to reset as César got ready for the goal kick.
As Zidane walked past Materazzi, he suddenly turned around.
He tucked his arms under his armpits, jogged a few steps, and stopped right in front of him.
Then—
BANG!
Zidane smashed his head straight into Materazzi.
The entire stadium froze.
Materazzi hit the ground hard, nearly having his ribs crushed by Zidane's headbutt.
Inter players were stunned.
What the hell just happened?
Real Madrid players were equally dumbfounded.
Zizou, you…
Only Su Hang understood what had just occurred.
But this shouldn't have happened here.
This was supposed to be Zidane's defining moment in the World Cup Final, not a Champions League quarterfinal!
Was it because he met Materazzi too early?
Was Zidane destined to headbutt Materazzi this year no matter what?
Talk about a cursed fate.
The football version of Final Destination?
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The referee blew his whistle furiously and sprinted over—
No, away.
Because Zidane was already walking off the scene.
He knew exactly what his action meant.
But he chose to do it anyway.
Because...
He glanced up at the VIP seats, two rows behind the Real Madrid bench.
His sister, his wife, his two sons—they were all there.
He was supposed to bring them a victory.
Instead, he had brought them humiliation.
Especially his sister.
She was one of the people he respected and loved the most—the one who had shaped much of his life.
In the stands, Lilia caught her brother's gaze and felt a pang of guilt.
"Veronica, I shouldn't have come today," she said softly. "I think I've caused trouble for Yazid."
Veronica looked just as shocked but quickly shook her head.
"No. You could never be trouble for him."
"He's been acting strangely today—too tense. That kind of tension can trigger an extreme stress reaction."
"Maybe it's just too hard for him to accept his own decision to retire, even if he made it himself."
"If this was bound to happen sooner or later, then perhaps… this moment is as good as any."