Chapter 221: Sucker Covers Mouth

Bang!

Suker was knocked down from behind, sprawled face-first on the ground!

"...It's Poulsen again. That's the third time he's knocked Suker down in this match. The Dane has his eyes on Suker!"

The German commentator's tone was full of amusement.

On screen, Suker climbed to his feet and glanced back at Poulsen.

The Dane slightly raised his chin and flashed Suker a grin.

Clearly, he was provoking Suker.

At that moment, Maldini was arguing with the referee, who had his back turned.

Suker immediately spat at Poulsen.

Ptooey!

Poulsen was stunned.

Feeling the wet, sticky saliva on his face, a surge of anger erupted inside him.

He reached out to grab Suker.

Suker turned, already ready to bolt.

Suddenly, a figure flashed past like lightning.

Bang!

Another collision.

When Suker turned to look, Nesta was glaring and shouting at Poulsen:

"Come on! You clown like to fight? Try me!!"

Suker was still in a bit of a daze.

But Maldini was already standing in front of him, his broad shoulders blocking the opponent's shoves and curses, shielding Suker well.

Stam was a bit slower, still running over.

Just then, the referee blew his whistle.

Maldini took the chance to stop Stam.

The referee first showed Poulsen a yellow card, then turned and showed one to Suker as well.

Both players punished equally!

"Suker and Poulsen both get yellow cards, but for Schalke 04, this is definitely bad news."

"AC Milan's attacking midfielder trades cards with a defensive midfielder—huge win for Milan!"

Suker was quite pleased.

If that guy kept acting cocky, Suker didn't mind going all in and getting him sent off.

A defensive midfielder carrying a yellow in just the 10th minute? He's just asking to get destroyed.

Just then, Suker saw Gattuso storming toward the referee, full of fury.

Suker: "!!!"

"No no no no no!!"

Before Gattuso could say a word, Suker clamped a hand over his mouth and forcefully dragged him back.

At the same time, he gave the referee an apologetic smile.

"What are you doing?"

Gattuso grumbled in protest.

Suker punched him in the stomach and snapped: "Haven't you learned anything from all the times you've gotten booked? I just traded yellows with their DM—we're way ahead. What the hell are you doing? Trying to get yourself carded again?"

"You don't get it! I was trying to pressure the ref!"

"Bullshit!" Suker fired back. "You're putting pressure on us! When have you ever walked up to the ref and not walked away with a yellow?"

"I just didn't execute well!"

"I don't care how well you execute." Suker kicked him in the butt. "Get back!"

Gattuso was still indignant.

Suker glared: "You want me to call the captain over?"

Gattuso backed down!

Suker watched him leave with a pout and sighed inwardly.

Only Maldini could keep him in check.

That damn mouth of his—opens once, and a yellow card follows.

That could flip the whole match!

Back on the pitch, the conflict was settled.

Suker and Poulsen each had a yellow.

AC Milan's ball!

Pirlo lofted the ball into the box. Schalke 04's defender Rafinha leapt from the crowd and cleared it.

The ball dropped to the left, where Suker happened to be waiting.

He calmly controlled it and passed back to Pirlo before the opponents could press.

Then Suker pulled toward the flank.

Turning to look, he saw Maldini eager to overlap again.

Ever since that one thrilling attacking play, Maldini had gotten a taste for it.

Of course, he knew he had to restrain himself.

Seeing the signal, Suker quickly cut inside, drawing Schalke's left-back Rodríguez out of position.

"Great opportunity!"

Suker looked up.

Sure enough, Pirlo saw the gap and passed directly to Suker.

Suker faked a turn to the inside, then used the outside of his right foot to flick the ball out to the flank.

Maldini surged forward and charged toward the penalty area.

"Damn it!"

Rodríguez turned and sprinted back.

Others rushed toward the box.

Suker didn't rush, jogging to the edge of the penalty area.

"Captain!"

He saw Maldini surrounded and called out.

Maldini heard him and tapped the ball with his toe.

It nutmegged Rodríguez and rolled straight to Suker.

Suker took a touch, then dribbled sideways along the top of the box.

"Make a run! Make a run!!"

From the bench, Inzaghi shot to his feet, shouting excitedly.

But Shevchenko and Kaka just stood there, unsure of when to move.

"Damn it!"

Inzaghi cursed.

If it were him, that would've been a one-on-one already!

Seeing no runs, Suker looked up, leaned back slightly, and unleashed a curling shot.

It bent toward the top right corner!

It had great curl, and the keeper struggled to judge the trajectory.

Clang!!

It struck the post and went out.

"Ahhhh~~~~~ Suker!! That curling shot didn't go in! It was so tricky—just a bit more spin and it might've gone in!"

"Still, excellent quality!"

Suker shook his head. He hadn't hit it cleanly. Otherwise, it might have ended differently.

AC Milan players began retreating.

Schalke 04 prepared for the goal kick.

Twenty minutes into the match, AC Milan had taken the initiative.

That was thanks to their dominant midfield.

Ancelotti's "four number tens" were no joke!

They had technique, dribbling, possession, and passing.

All of this overwhelmed Schalke's two midfielders.

In a 4-4-2, only two true midfielders—both wingers are more attackers. So, against three central mids, it's already tough.

And with Suker constantly dropping back to support, Milan's midfield was rock solid.

Kaka stayed forward, looking for through balls.

But Schalke's defense wasn't easy to crack.

There just wasn't a clean passing lane for Kaka.

So, Milan relied more on Suker dropping back and carrying the ball forward.

Meanwhile, Seedorf and the fullbacks pushed up to apply pressure.

Of course, Schalke had their counters too.

For example, this time they played a long diagonal ball to the right, for Lincoln to chase.

As Lincoln sprinted forward and tried to control the ball, Maldini appeared out of nowhere.

Surprised, Lincoln lost composure.

Maldini calmly stepped in, timed it perfectly, and blocked Lincoln off. Once support arrived, he completed the switch.

"Captain, great defense!"

Suker shouted with joy.

Maldini chuckled.

Suker was like the team's on-field hype man, always loudly encouraging teammates.

Especially when they did well—he never held back praise.

And that boosted morale.

Pirlo suddenly played a horizontal pass, shaking off his marker, then slotted a ball into the half-space.

It was quick and sharp.

Kaka had already taken off.

"Pirlo, what a ball!! Kaka's on it and pushing forward!"

"Shevchenko is on the backline. Will Kaka pass? He's slowing... looking for options... a cutback!! Here it comes!!!"

A white blur flashed by.

Like a blade of light.

Suker had made a late run and reached the edge of the box at just the right time. With the momentum from his sprint, he calmly side-footed the ball.

It bent just past the defender and nestled inside the post.

"Suker!!!!!!!!!!!——"

"GOAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!——"

"As Kaka charged forward, Suker was sprinting to support! He arrived just in time—Kaka's cutback, and Suker with the finish!"

"A brilliant connection between two young stars!!"

"Suker scores his first Champions League goal of the season!!"

"Brilliant! 39th minute, AC Milan scores the opening goal away from home!"

Schalke 04's fans hadn't even processed it.

Before they knew it, the ball was in the net.

In the stands, Sahin stared at the pitch in disbelief.

"That counter was lightning fast!"

From Maldini's interception to Stam's pass to Pirlo, then a through ball to Kaka, who cut it back to Suker—four passes.

Not only did they tear Schalke's defense apart, they also scored.

This was the counter-attacking speed of a top Serie A powerhouse—AC Milan.