Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

”Press harder! Close the wing too—step up, be decisive! I’ll cover the space behind you!”

After executing a perfect tackle, Li Ang quickly scrambled to his feet, immediately shouting a loud reminder to Canales to close in and win the ball.

The ball was still rolling along the turf.

But with Li Ang’s timely shout, Canales beat Mallorca’s Jonathan de Guzmán to the ball and poked it to the incoming Marcelo.

Marcelo glanced around while shaking his head, saw no immediate passing options, and returned it to Li Ang, who had raised his hand to call for it.

For some reason, Mallorca’s front line looked like they were out for blood—three players pounced on Li Ang as if he were holding a ticking time bomb.

Li Ang had a simple option: he could have passed it forward to Alonso and let the veteran handle the pressure. Alonso was already raising his hand, ready to receive.

But Li Ang didn’t.

Instead, he shouted, ”Sergio!” to Ramos—who was playing center-back today—and passed the ball further back.

More importantly, after passing, he didn’t panic and retreat blindly, which might’ve cramped Ramos’s passing lanes.

Li Ang chose to drift wide, positioning himself nearly in line with the two center-backs, tucking in just behind Marcelo on the left flank.

As the Mallorca forwards redirected their pressure toward Ramos, the Real Madrid defender suddenly had options—he could pass laterally to Carvalho, knock it back to Casillas, or play it out wide to Li Ang, who now stood in space on the flank.

Ramos didn’t hesitate. The moment Li Ang settled into position, the ball zipped his way.

Once again, Mallorca’s Castro charged at him.

But this time, Li Ang didn’t give him the chance to close down.

With his first touch, he drove the ball forward, then calmly played a grounded pass along the sideline to Marcelo.

Textbook.

It was a classic holding midfielder maneuver to break the press.

No fancy footwork. No flashy moves. Just smart passing and perfect positioning.

Li Ang’s choices were measured and clean, making things easy for Ramos and Marcelo.

Alonso, watching from the center, nodded with a smile and pushed forward confidently to prepare for the next phase of attack.

Real Madrid smoothly dismantled Mallorca’s pressing trap and launched another wave forward, drawing groans and whistles from the home fans.

Among the chorus of boos, at least half were directed at Li Ang, who once again trotted back into his defensive position just behind Alonso.

With some breathing room, Ramos had a moment to joke.

”Brilliant defense, Little Lion. I think you better prepare to be scouted across La Liga soon~” he teased, slapping Li Ang’s hand with a grin and winking.

Li Ang didn’t think it was quite that dramatic, but the compliment still made him grin and shrug naturally.

At that moment, the broadcast camera zoomed in.

So in one spontaneous, unguarded smile, Li Ang’s clean-cut, handsome face was broadcast across all of Spain.

And just like that, Li Ang received more attention in those few seconds than he’d ever gotten in six years of youth development and half a season in the Segunda.

If he’d had great looks but no game, no one would care.

If he had game but a forgettable face, the effect would be lessened.

But now?

He was playing for Real Madrid.

He had just executed two stellar defensive plays.

And he looked good doing it.

It was the perfect combination for instant stardom.

Li Ang, of course, had no idea what kind of media storm his smile would ignite tomorrow.

For now, he was fully focused on executing his tactical responsibilities.

Thanks to his steady presence, Alonso no longer needed to worry about defensive coverage and could orchestrate with ease.

Canales, too, had more freedom to show his attacking brilliance.

The young Spanish talent, the same age as Li Ang, was playing well tonight.

With no need to constantly track back and defend, Canales and Alonso quickly took control of the tempo.

Mallorca’s midfield wasn’t particularly strong.

Their early conservative strategy and quick counters had worked to some degree, but once Li Ang shut down two of their transition plays, they lost their edge.

Li Ang was now fully experiencing what it meant to play in Real Madrid’s first team.

Do your defensive job well, and on offense? You don’t even have to touch the ball.

Alonso and Canales ran the show in midfield.

Cristiano Ronaldo and Di María wreaked havoc on the wings.

Marcelo was a powerhouse at left back.

And for finishing? Higuaín and Ronaldo again.

Every attacking role was filled by a world-class player.

It was nothing like playing for the third team, or Castilla, or even Real Betis.

Leaving aside the media scrutiny and expectations, Li Ang had to admit—it was easy being a holding midfielder in Real Madrid’s first team.

He didn’t have to overthink anything. Just fulfill his role, keep possession, and let his teammates do the rest.

Of course, that ”ease” only existed because they were facing Mallorca tonight.

Against Barcelona, Bayern, or Manchester United?

He would probably be the one under the most pressure and carrying the heaviest workload on the pitch.

But tonight, it was Mallorca.

And even if Real Madrid’s forwards were still rusty, the relentless flow of possession from midfield kept building pressure.

Finally, just before halftime, they broke through.

In the 43rd minute, Cristiano Ronaldo received a cross-field pass from Canales, pulled the ball back, and—without warning—unleashed a thunderous shot from over 30 meters out.

The ball sizzled through the air with terrifying pace—and then suddenly dipped, violently.

Mallorca’s goalkeeper Aouate, wary of underestimating the strike, chose to punch it away.

But the ball didn’t fly out of danger as he expected. His punch sent it wobbling awkwardly toward the right edge of the penalty box.

And there, waiting like a hawk, was Di María.

He didn’t hesitate.

No second-guessing.

He brought the ball down and gently curled it toward the far corner.

His touch and choice of angle were perfect.

Aouate could only watch helplessly as the ball nestled into the net behind him.

1–0 Real Madrid at halftime.

As the players walked off, wiping sweat and chatting among themselves, Li Ang walked next to Alonso down the tunnel.

Unaware, he passed right by Mourinho—who stood by the locker room door, eyes burning with intensity.

He stared at Li Ang the way someone might look at their long-lost dream.

As if, in this nineteen-year-old kid, he had finally found his ”midfield anchor of dreams.”

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