Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

From a scheduling perspective, Milan had plenty of preparation time for their recent fixtures.

They had a full week to prepare before facing Fiorentina, and now, before their match against Sampdoria, they had five days of rest and training.

Sure, that’s two days less, but the mood around the team was noticeably more relaxed. The nervous tension before the Fiorentina game was gone.

After all, compared to Fiorentina, Sampdoria—currently sitting third from bottom in the Serie A table—really didn’t pose much of a threat on paper.

Their defense was respectable by relegation-battle standards—somewhere around mid-table in terms of goals conceded. But their attack was dreadful.

After 32 rounds, Sampdoria had scored just 26 goals—only better than bottom-dwelling Bari.

With that kind of firepower, unless Milan made some serious errors, they could let Sampdoria attack all game and still not be worried.

But even while recognizing the clear difference in quality between the two sides, Milan’s coaching staff knew better than to let their guard down.

The closer it got to the end of the season, the more likely it was for relegation-threatened teams to overperform under pressure.

So, in his pre-match press conference, Allegri once again emphasized his ”respect” for Sampdoria.

His message was clear:

Milan would give their all in this match. They respected Sampdoria as opponents and respected their fight to avoid relegation.

There was no arrogance here. Everyone would give their best, and the outcome would be decided on the pitch. After all, there was no bad blood between the two clubs—after the match, they could still share friendly handshakes and kind words.

This speech effectively killed any attempt by Sampdoria to create a hostile, emotionally charged atmosphere.

With Allegri being so ”gracious” and Milan showing such ”respect,” how could Sampdoria frame this as some kind of blood feud?

”Let’s give it everything we’ve got, but there’s no need to stir the pot before the match. We have no grudge against Milan.”

”Respect goes both ways. If we give it our all and still lose, then we’ll applaud them. Milan really is the best team in Serie A this season.”

”We’ve got five games left after this. Honestly, we could treat this match as a strategic sacrifice. Why burn energy against Milan when we could save it for more winnable fixtures?”

”It’s about three points. We need them, yes—but we need to be smart about how we get them. Fighting Milan tooth and nail isn’t wise.”

As more Sampdoria fans shared these views in interviews, Milan’s staff began to smile knowingly.

That was enough.

This kind of pre-game atmosphere ensured one thing: Sampdoria wouldn’t go into the match treating Milan like a mortal enemy to be crushed at all costs.

Which meant Milan could approach the match in the simplest tactical way possible—just focus on breaking down a defense and winning.

With the pressure eased, Milan finished their preparations on the afternoon of April 15th.

By April 16th, with swarms of sports reporters descending on Milan, the atmosphere around San Siro had grown electric.

Even though Milan wouldn’t officially lift the trophy until after their Round 37 match against Cagliari—if they sealed the title today—it didn’t matter.

Impatient fans weren’t waiting.

From early morning on the 16th, Milan’s streets were filled with supporters clad in red and black stripes, some even carrying replica Serie A trophies, marching through the city together.

It wasn’t hard to imagine how many fake trophies would be paraded around San Siro tonight.

The players couldn’t lift the real one yet—but the fans could dream, and they were doing it in full force.

After nearly seven years without a league title, they were desperate to taste that winning feeling again.

By nightfall, even with kickoff still a while away, long queues had already formed outside the stadium.

As the players took the field for warm-ups, San Siro was already packed to the rafters.

The thunderous roar from the crowd shook both teams to the core.

Sampdoria’s players felt the pressure mount.

Milan’s players—veterans and young guns alike—felt only gratitude for the overwhelming support.

As the match approached, Allegri said nothing.

He simply opened the locker room doors early, letting his players sit quietly and listen to the fans, who were already singing with full force.

That was the best motivation they could ask for.

Gattuso, seeing the clock ticking down, gave the rallying cry and led the team charging out of the tunnel.

One by one, the starting eleven followed, hearts pounding and spirits ablaze.

Allegri let out a long breath.

He had done everything he could in preparation.

Now, the outcome was in the hands of time and his players.

He believed in them. He believed they would deliver a perfect ”final battle” for the Rossoneri faithful.

Today was the perfect day to win the title.

※※※

April 16th, 8:45 PM — San Siro Stadium.

As a wave of deafening cheers swept through the stadium, Milan and Sampdoria kicked off their Round 33 Serie A clash!

Just as he promised in the press conference, Allegri showed his respect by fielding his strongest lineup—his most-used eleven from the second half of the season:

Abbiati in goal.

The back four: Antonini, Thiago Silva, Nesta, and Zambrotta.

Pirlo in the holding role, with Leon and Gattuso on the sides. Boateng advanced as the attacking midfielder.

Up front, Zlatan Ibrahimović partnered Alexandre Pato.

This was Milan going all out.

And right from the start, when Sampdoria tried to probe with their opening attack, Milan threw their usual cautiousness aside.

Instead of sitting back, they pressed aggressively.

But this wasn’t pressing just to regain possession—it was pressing to launch immediate counter-attacks.

Milan wanted to win this with their offense.

Sampdoria clearly weren’t expecting this level of aggression from kickoff. This wasn’t the calm, calculated Milan they were used to.

Palombo, one of the more level-headed players in Samp’s squad, quickly called for the midfield to tighten up and fall back into shape.

But Milan had brought in Pato specifically to avoid prolonged midfield entanglements.

In the 6th minute, after regaining possession, Leon quickly played the ball forward to Pirlo.

Without hesitation, the maestro launched a piercing long ball.

If Walter hadn’t leapt early and just barely deflected the ball, Pato would’ve been in on goal, slicing through the defense like a knife.

Shaken, the Sampdoria defenders shouted for greater focus.

But just two minutes later, Pirlo did it again—this time targeting Ibrahimović on the opposite flank.

Samp’s Komán wasn’t as lucky as Walter.

Ibra didn’t get a clear breakaway, but his skill and physicality allowed him to shield the ball, spin half a turn, and lay it off with ease.

Attracting defenders to him, he fed the ball into Boateng’s path.

From about 28 meters out, Boateng took one touch, adjusted his stride—and let loose a rocket.

Honestly, in that split-second, countless Milan fans let curses fly from their mouths.

Even Allegri shot up from his seat, ready to erupt.

”What the fu—”

He didn’t even get the curse out.

The ball whistled through the air, hit the underside of the crossbar, and bounced into the goal.

Allegri’s mouth changed shape mid-word.

”You freaking... BEAUTIFUL STRIKE! That’s how you shoot! YES!!”

Overcome with emotion, he grabbed a nearby assistant and spun him in a wild circle on the sidelines.

Boateng, having just scored a worldie, ripped off his shirt and went sprinting along the endline, swinging it in pure euphoria.

The roar from the crowd shook the stadium to its foundations.

Leon, watching from midfield, couldn’t help but laugh—hand on forehead, joy and disbelief written across his face.

From the South Stand, Milan ultras lit up red flares.

Soon, thick crimson smoke drifted up and blanketed the sky above San Siro.

While his teammates celebrated, and the match paused for the restart, Leon quietly walked over to Pirlo, who stood with arms crossed, watching the scene unfold.

He clapped a hand on the maestro’s shoulder.

”Hey Andrea,” Leon said with a grin, pointing upward, ”Look at that.”

”Right now, the sky over Italy... it’s red and black.”

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