Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

With less than twenty minutes gone and already leading 1–0, Allegri genuinely couldn’t see how his team could lose.

The passion of the moment faded, and Uncle Max—hands in his pockets, exchanging subtle glances with his players—looked every bit the composed, tactical mastermind.

As Leon jogged back to the half line after celebrating the goal, he was momentarily puzzled by the serious expression on his coach’s face.

But when that calm gaze shifted ever so slightly to something a little more intense—borderline stern—Leon immediately understood.

”Watch your defense! Move your legs! Don’t give them room to push through the center!”

With Gattuso not on the pitch, Leon naturally took over the role of the team’s on-field ”roaring general.”

Van Bommel had more experience organizing a defense, sure, but when it came to sheer vocal presence—Leon’s lungs had him beat.

Seeing Leon so quick to adapt and take charge, Allegri gave a satisfied nod.

If not now, then when? This was the moment to defend smart. Inter’s attack this season wasn’t exactly weak.

In fact, when it came to exploiting opponents during the transition between attack and defense, Inter remained one of the best in Serie A.

That’s why Allegri had laid out a very clear tactical plan for the first half before the match.

If Milan failed to score in the first 25 minutes, they’d fall back into a tighter shape and wait for chances to strike via long balls and counters.

If the score was still 0–0 by halftime, Allegri would make adjustments during the break.

But if Milan managed to score within the first 25 minutes—well, then sorry.

They would abandon the attack for the rest of the half. Yes, abandon it entirely—pulling even Ibrahimović and Cassano back to the halfway line to defend.

Because if you don’t attack, there’s no transition. And without transitions, your midfield and back line always remain in proper shape and numbers.

How do you break down something like that? Go ahead, try!

When the match resumed and Milan dropped into a tight, compact shape, Allegri’s intention became crystal clear.

Leonardo, seeing even Ibrahimović retreat to midfield, shot a death glare at Allegri.

Sure, Allegri had always been known for conservative tactics, but at least in the past, he’d leave one or two players up front to press or counter.

Not today. Today, he had literally pulled everyone back to hold that lead.

Trying to break through ten Milan players behind the ball?

Just imagining how constipated the attack would look gave Leonardo a headache.

”CTMD Allegri, what kind of cursed luck is this…”

Muttering his frustration under his breath, Leonardo had no choice but to adjust his own tactics.

”Push down the flanks and the half-spaces! If there’s an opening, whip it into the box! Let Pandev crash in! Keep Eto’o working that right channel!”

With the manager’s instructions clear, Inter’s players regrouped and set off on the painstaking mission of prying open Milan’s rigid defense.

Targeting Van Bommel’s side of the midfield made sense—Eto’o had a speed advantage against both Van Bommel and Abate, so Inter decided to keep pushing that side.

Leon’s flank, however, remained impenetrable. His sweeping coverage and exceptional footwork kept Pandev and Sneijder from linking up effectively on Milan’s left.

So Leonardo made the call to stop using Pandev as a playmaker. Instead, he had him crash the box with Pazzini—just brute-force attack the penalty area and hope for the best.

It wasn’t pretty. But it was straightforward, and sometimes those balls into the box created chaos and luck.

At least, that’s what Leonardo hoped for.

But as Pandev and Pazzini failed time and again to beat Milan’s center-back duo, the glimmer of hope began to dim.

Ten minutes of dogged attacking produced nothing—no clear shots, no real threats—and Leonardo grew increasingly anxious.

Watching Sneijder push further up, and Pandev drifting back into the half-space again, Leon quickly shouted to his teammates.

”They’re lining up for long shots!”

Sneijder, who was quite close to Leon at the time, visibly flinched when he heard the warning.

Allegri, hearing Leon’s shout and taking note of Inter’s attacking setup, reacted immediately.

He pulled Seedorf back to Leon’s previous position on the left side of midfield.

Leon himself dropped deeper into the holding midfield role, partnering with Pirlo to seal off the area just outside the penalty arc.

With that adjustment, Leon was perfectly positioned to track Pandev, whose long-shot threat had just been neutralized.

As for Sneijder, Pirlo could still hold his own in denying him space to shoot.

If Sneijder shifted left—Leon would be there. If he moved right—Van Bommel wasn’t exactly a pushover either.

Allegri, content with the quick shuffle, returned to his seat.

And just like that, Inter’s newly adjusted attacking tactic was completely smothered before it even began.

Leonardo was at a loss.

After all that maneuvering and reshuffling, Inter had nothing to show for it. Less than ten minutes remained in the first half.

In that time, Sneijder only managed two long-range shots—both from beyond 30 meters out.

One of them was blocked mid-air by a flying Leon, who hurled himself in the way like a human shield.

Milan’s relentless defense, with no intention of transitioning or even countering, thoroughly disgusted Inter fans.

The moment halftime began, they whipped out their phones and flooded the internet with scathing comments, ridiculing Milan’s ultra-defensive approach.

Of course, anyone who knew football could read between the lines of this ”objective criticism.”

They were angry not because Milan played dirty—but because Milan played it smart.

If Inter were the ones leading by a goal right now, their fans would probably be begging coach Leonardo to sub himself on just to help with the defense.

So it’s no surprise Milan fans couldn’t care less about the growing waves of criticism.

Ugly? Who cares how the game looks—as long as they win, that’s the best response of all.

Not only did they beat their archrivals head-to-head, they seized absolute control of the title race.

What could frustrate Inter fans more than that?

And the Milan players clearly felt the same way.

Ibrahimović and Cassano, both of whom had tracked back to defend multiple times in the first half, had no complaints whatsoever.

Victory was in sight, the Serie A title within reach—if defense was what it took, they’d gladly play the whole match as makeshift defenders.

”Kevin, you’re on for Andrea to start the second half. Leon, you and Mark (Van Bommel) are going to hold the double pivot—I want you to shut down Inter’s attacks through the middle! Clarence (Seedorf), shift to the left midfield. Kevin, you take the right side. Antonio (Cassano), drop back to the central attacking mid spot.”

With quick and clear instructions, Allegri once again deployed Milan’s ”midfield enforcers” setup.

But this time, he added Cassano into the mix, morphing the formation into a 4-5-1—maxing out the team’s defensive capabilities in the midfield.

Pirlo had no complaints. Subbing him off and slotting in Leon and Van Bommel behind the midfield wall would significantly strengthen Milan’s defensive spine.

For the sake of securing this win, even Pirlo could accept that logic.

After finalizing the tactical tweaks, Allegri glanced at the remaining break time and delivered a short but powerful speech to his players.

”I don’t need to explain what winning this match would mean. Opportunities like this to secure the title don’t come around often. When one does, you hold it tight and don’t let go. The sooner we win it, the better. I want to schedule our title celebration for April 16th—what do you say?”

As soon as Uncle Max finished speaking, the locker room erupted in thunderous applause and excited cheers!

On April 16th, Milan would host Sampdoria in Round 33 of the Serie A.

That said it all.

Beat Inter today, forget all the complex permutations or margin for error.

Just blow straight through the next three rounds!

It was decided: Milan would clinch the title at home—five rounds early!

Even Leon, not usually the emotional type, joined in the celebration, whistling along with his teammates.

For most of the players, the Scudetto represented honor, fame, and a fat bonus.

But in Leon’s eyes, beyond all that glory, the trophy glittered with an even greater temptation—500 system points!

Fueled with adrenaline, the Milan players stormed out of the tunnel, practically high on their own ambition.

The home crowd roared at full volume as the second half kicked off, cheering their heroes on with everything they had.

No surprises. No hesitation.

Just three more wins, and the Serie A trophy would be theirs.

The sooner, the better. The sooner, the better!

”Let’s go all in!”

Almost every Milan player made that decision the moment the second half began.

To hell with energy conservation. To hell with saving themselves for future matches.

This was the final—it had to be treated that way.

The moment the whistle blew, Leon activated a medium-level stamina recovery potion he had been saving.

With a sudden burst of strength, he went absolutely berserk.

Sprinting full throttle, sweeping every inch of the pitch, Leon’s energy shocked not only the fans but also his own teammates!

But his raw intensity and ”leave it all out there” attitude deeply inspired every Rossoneri supporter in the stadium.

”Dear little lion! Fight on! Run like the wind! And to every single Milan player on that pitch—Rossoneri are with you! Give it everything for the win! Forza Milan!!!”

Veteran commentator Carlo Crudele was so overwhelmed by emotion watching Leon tirelessly sweeping across the field that he could barely hold himself together.

And with the deafening chorus of cheers surrounding them, every Milan player responded by meeting their Inter counterparts head-on with aggressive defense.

They dragged Inter into a disjointed, choppy rhythm.

With relentless pressing, fierce tackles, and sheer grit, they bled sweat onto every square inch of the midfield.

Inter could still probe into Milan’s half, yes—but every inch they gained came at the cost of precious stamina.

This was war—a gritty, grinding battle of attrition.

Allegri went all-in, throwing every defensive card he had left on the table. No more holding back.

Leonardo, on the other hand, couldn’t go all-in.

He still feared the individual brilliance of Ibra and Cassano.

Not to mention the wildcard threats of Leon and Boateng, who could launch a devastating counter at any moment.

In many cases, thoughtful decision-making is a good trait for a coach and his team.

But sometimes, overthinking leads to hesitation—when a more decisive approach might be far more effective.

Leonardo’s caution cost Inter dearly. He missed the chance to seize early momentum in the second half.

And once Milan successfully dragged the match into chaos, reorganizing a coherent attack became exponentially harder.

Sneijder could feel his chest tightening painfully.

He was completely winded—not just tired, but overworked.

But he couldn’t slow down. He didn’t dare ease up.

Not in this match. Not against this Milan.

It was as if Leon had locked onto Sneijder personally. With Van Bommel covering the back line, Leon’s relentless pressing became an unbearable weight.

Not that Leon’s defensive skill alone was enough to truly shut down a Ballon d’Or-caliber playmaker one-on-one.

But it was his persistence—like sticky chewing gum—that gave Sneijder no time or space to breathe. The constant harassment made everything uncomfortable. It was exhausting.

With no need to worry about positional discipline, Leon threw himself into every challenge. Even if it meant burning twice as much stamina just to match Sneijder’s natural output, Leon considered it a worthwhile trade.

To Sneijder, Leon felt like a madman—an utterly irrational force of chaos that he had no idea how to deal with.

By the 70th minute of the second half, Leon was still running like a machine, showing no signs of fatigue, and Sneijder was the first to mentally crack.

As Sneijder’s rhythm unraveled, so did Inter’s entire attacking shape.

Allegri watched from the sideline, torn between joy and concern.

He didn’t know Leon had system buffs—so in his eyes, Leon was simply burning through his stamina to defend with everything he had.

On the bench, Flamini and Merkel both looked at Leon’s effort with awe and shame. There was no room left for envy—only pure admiration.

In the 75th minute, Seedorf collapsed with a leg cramp. He gritted his teeth and tried to play on but had to be subbed off for Gattuso.

Milan lost a launch point for counterattacks, but the midfield’s sweeping and pressing ability took another leap forward. Gattuso came in like a man possessed, pairing with Leon to further sever Inter’s link between midfield and attack.

Desperate, Leonardo gambled. He subbed on Diego Milito, still not fully recovered from injury, and took off Thiago Motta!

”Inter’s going all in! These final minutes—Milan must hold on! Don’t waste Leon’s heroic performance today! Don’t let down all the Milan fans!”

In the studio of CCTV-5, Xu Yang had thrown neutrality out the window, openly rooting for Leon and Milan.

Liu Jianhong couldn’t follow him in cheering, but behind his solemn expression, his eyes gleamed with pride and emotion.

”Leon really has given it absolutely everything tonight,” he finally muttered, biting his words out.

Countless fans across China cheered from their TVs and laptops, all united in support of Leon and Milan.

By the 83rd minute, Abate, too, collapsed with cramps. Allegri quickly called over the already-warmed-up Antonini and made the switch.

Antonini took over the left flank, while Zambrotta, with a final reservoir of energy, shifted to the right.

In the 87th minute, Thiago Silva beat Milito to a clearance, knocking the ball out for a throw. Allegri shouted from the sideline, urging absolute focus from every Milan player.

Just a few more minutes—just hold on!

”Hold the line! HOLD IT!!”

Gattuso and Leon roared in unison. All the other Milan players clapped, screamed, and pushed themselves to rally teammates around them.

By the 90th minute, Nesta and Milito clashed in a brutal aerial duel. Both went down in pain but dragged themselves back to their feet to keep fighting inside the box.

In the 92nd minute, Cambiasso received the ball just outside Milan’s box on the left side—and immediately unleashed a long-range shot!

The ball ricocheted off Van Bommel’s torso and bounced out. Inter players surrounded the ref, claiming handball, but he waved it off without hesitation.

Then came the 94th minute—the final minute of stoppage time.

Antonini, recently subbed on, misjudged a challenge against Pandev, giving Inter a dangerous free-kick opportunity just outside the box.

Milan players were fully alert now, retreating into the box at Allegri’s frantic commands.

At the same time, Inter pushed everyone forward. One final throw of the dice.

Gasping for breath, Sneijder whipped in the free kick. Zambrotta and Pandev both jumped at the near post—but both mistimed it!

Pazzini came barreling down the center with every ounce of strength he had left. In a stadium packed with 80,000 fans, both sides erupted in a single, thunderous cry!

But behind Pazzini, a red-and-black blur also leapt into the air—his timing, just a split-second better.

He had no positional advantage. Just a higher leap.

That split-second, that few extra centimeters, made all the difference.

He got his head to the ball.

Milan had survived.

The referee blew the final whistle.

The camera panned to the player who had won the decisive aerial duel.

Longish hair, sitting upright on the pitch, fist clenched, screaming at the sky.

Leon. Who else?

”WE WON!!!”

San Siro erupted like a volcano, the explosion of joy cascading down the stands like molten lava and then shooting back up toward the heavens.

Leon, still looking full of energy, took off running across the field with Boateng at his side.

But he didn’t get far—Zlatan had been waiting and grabbed him mid-sprint.

Big Ibra gave him a furious, head-scrubbing noogie, then burst out laughing and pulled him into a bear hug.

They had done it.

They’d beaten the last real obstacle in the league.

Nothing stood in their way now.

April 16th.

Yes, that would be a perfect day.

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