Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

Xabi Alonso asked again, a bit unsure, and after receiving a firm confirmation from Li Ang, he became visibly intrigued.

The truth was, he and Li Ang weren’t particularly familiar with each other.

Having just won the World Cup with Spain that summer, Alonso, along with teammates like Iker Casillas and Sergio Ramos, had been granted extended leave. As a result, none of the Spanish internationals had participated in the preseason training sessions Mourinho had begun organizing in mid-July.

Even so, Alonso had watched the two preseason friendlies that Real Madrid had played in the United States.

Li Ang’s performance in the second match, particularly his link-up with Gago, had caught his eye.

Although Li Ang was still very young, his composure on the pitch was impressive.

He wasn’t outstanding—at least not yet—but the kind of consistency he demonstrated at only nineteen years old had already left Alonso with a favorable impression.

”Is there a reason?” Alonso asked thoughtfully. ”If you don’t mind sharing. From what I know, you’ve always played as a defensive midfielder since joining Real Madrid’s youth system. If you’d prefer, I could offer you more insight into defensive responsibilities. I think that might be more beneficial for your career in the long run.”

Alonso was trying to be tactful, subtly steering Li Ang toward sticking with his defensive roots.

Because orchestrating a team’s play wasn’t something a young midfielder could just pick up through hard work alone—it was more like a striker’s sense in front of goal: either you had the instincts and vision, or you didn’t.

And if Li Ang had that kind of talent, surely the coaches at Real Madrid’s academy would have noticed by now. They weren’t blind or stupid.

After all, developing a composed, intelligent playmaker was far more valuable to Real Madrid—both for internal use and in the transfer market—than a purely defensive midfielder.

To put it bluntly, even if such a player wasn’t used by the club, a young deep-lying playmaker would fetch a much higher price than a destroyer.

But Li Ang replied earnestly, ”Oh? If you’re willing to teach me more about defending as well, that would be amazing! I just want to seize every opportunity to learn as much as I can. Even if I don’t get much out of it in the end, at least I tried. Of course, that’s only if it’s convenient for you.”

Alonso looked at Li Ang’s sincere face and clever phrasing—clearly seizing on Alonso’s offer to learn both attacking and defensive skills—and suddenly regretted even bringing up the topic of sharing defensive tips.

But after a brief pause, Alonso’s brow eased, and he clapped Li Ang heavily on the shoulder.

”Alright then. After training from now on, you and I will stay behind to work on passing. Today can be our first session.”

With that, he motioned for Li Ang to follow him to another training pitch.

Li Ang, quick to respond, lit up with excitement, repeatedly thanking Alonso as he scampered off to grab some equipment, looking every bit the obedient student.

Nacho, who had been waiting nearby to do extra drills with Li Ang, was left completely dumbfounded.

And the rest of the Real Madrid players were just as shocked.

Xabi Alonso had always been respected and well-liked within the squad. On the training ground and during matches, everyone worked together and stayed united.

But Alonso almost never stayed after training—he either practiced alone or went straight to physiotherapy, then home.

In other words, he was professional, well-mannered, and respected, but he wasn’t someone who hung out with teammates in his free time. Not buddies, not besties—more like courteous coworkers.

And now Li Ang, that kid who’d only recently hit it off with Cristiano Ronaldo and Benzema, had somehow convinced Alonso to do extra training with him?

What was going on here?!

Did good looks really make everything easier—even socializing?

A number of Real Madrid players who were, let’s say, ”not movie-star material,” fell into silent contemplation.

Meanwhile, on the smaller practice pitch, Li Ang was already brimming with excitement—ready to freeload—er, learn as much as he could from Alonso’s wealth of experience as a midfield orchestrator.

And when he started firing off targeted, intelligent questions, Alonso finally realized this kid wasn’t joking around.

Li Ang was dead serious about learning how to run a team.

As Alonso responded to his questions with detailed explanations, he studied Li Ang’s young but focused expression and couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu.

Li Ang reminded him far too much of himself at nineteen.

Ambitious. Determined. Calm beyond his years.

Aside from natural talent, Li Ang could have been a carbon copy of Xabi Alonso at that age.

Maybe that’s why Alonso had agreed to train with him in the first place.

He appreciated that drive and seriousness in Li Ang—because he had once approached a coach with the same determination, stating clearly that he wanted the responsibility of helping his team avoid relegation.

That courage had given Alonso’s career the start it needed.

Now, seeing Li Ang reaching out for an opportunity with the same fearless resolve, Alonso couldn’t bring himself to say no.

And with Li Ang now proving his commitment through his diligent questions and relentless attitude, Alonso relaxed.

He was ambitious, willing to suffer through extra training, and had a sharp, curious mind.

Alonso started to think—maybe Li Ang could develop some playmaking ability after all.

It might take a long time.

But if he kept at it with this level of focus, Alonso believed that one day, Li Ang would give him a pleasant surprise.

One who’s eager to learn. One who’s willing and able to teach.

Just like that, Li Ang and Alonso became an odd pair—one that quickly became the talk of the Valdebebas training ground over the next two days.

Of course, just being on better terms with Alonso didn’t suddenly elevate Li Ang’s status in the squad.

Mourinho was still spending most of his time testing out systems that featured Alonso and Khedira starting together.

The main difference was that in a 4-2-3-1 formation, Alonso and Khedira would sit as a double pivot, while in a 4-3-3, Khedira would drift to the right side of midfield, and Alonso would play deeper as the single pivot.

It was clear Mourinho had high hopes for Khedira.

Perhaps he envisioned the tall German becoming his next Essien—someone who would cover ground tirelessly and provide steel to protect the team’s deep-lying playmaker.

At Real Madrid, that orchestrator was, naturally, Xabi Alonso.

But then came the Beckenbauer Cup match on August 14th.

It was Khedira’s official debut for Real Madrid.

And… he failed to live up to expectations.

The German midfielder’s physicality was decent at best—he wasn’t nearly as tough as his frame suggested.

He covered ground and made tackles, but his defensive efficiency was middling.

Even worse?

Instead of shielding Alonso, as Mourinho had hoped, Alonso ended up being the one constantly covering for him.

Khedira’s desire to push forward was relentless.

He joined the attack with enthusiasm, which did help Real Madrid’s offensive rhythm to a degree.

But the problem was—he couldn’t recover in time.

After organizing the attack, Alonso had to sweep up behind Khedira, taking on defensive duties alone.

It was absurd—he was doing the job of two men.

Still, this wasn’t exactly unexpected. Khedira had always played this way in the Bundesliga. Mourinho remained hopeful that he could be re-shaped into a true holding midfielder.

But just two hours after the match against Bayern, Khedira reported discomfort in his calf and rushed to get it checked.

Mourinho, pacing nervously, eventually received the news: Khedira would be out for at least two weeks.

That was the final straw.

Mourinho cursed loudly.

Preseason wasn’t even over, and he was already missing three center-backs—Pepe, Garay, and Albiol were all injured.

Lassana Diarra was still out for two months.

Now Khedira, too, would miss the rest of the friendlies and likely the first match of La Liga.

Real Madrid’s luck that month was truly cursed.

Injuries everywhere—especially in defense and midfield.

With no other choice, Mourinho had to put his trust in Li Ang—whose defensive ability was at least better than Gago’s.

For two consecutive friendlies, Li Ang was in the starting lineup, partnering Alonso in what the media quickly dubbed the ”master-apprentice double pivot.”

Was the result brilliant? Not exactly. Nervous fans couldn’t see much flair—but the midfield was at least stable.

The press praised Alonso for carrying the team during this stretch—organizing attacks, defending tirelessly.

And as for Li Ang? His interceptions, his pressing, his constant support for Alonso? Barely mentioned.

Still, even if Li Ang remained ”unremarkable,” the fact remained—he had started two straight friendlies and played nearly the full 90 in both.

That alone drew significant attention across Spanish football.

Because it was now abundantly clear what Mourinho was signaling:

He just might really start this East Asian kid in Real Madrid’s opening match.

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