Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

The rise of any powerhouse team inevitably draws the gaze of opponents seeking to pick apart their tactics.

From 2008 to 2012, Barcelona knew this pain all too well.

As their tiki-taka revolution swept across world football, countless clubs studied them—some to learn, many to defeat them.

Now, with Real Madrid’s 5-0 annihilation of Lyon, and an entire wave of tactical discourse erupting in France about Madrid’s devastating counterattacks, teams across Europe had begun examining Mourinho’s strategy with a magnifying glass.

The result?

A lot of coaches with darker under-eye circles—and no one willing to speak to the media about having found a clear weakness.

”Weird.”

That was the most common word used by professional coaches after analyzing Madrid’s new system.

So, was it traditional counterattack football?

Not quite.

Madrid didn’t wait for opponents to push all the way up, sit deep, and then spring behind the backline.

Instead, they won the ball high in midfield, and launched a blitzkrieg of passes and movement that reached the opponent’s box in six or seven seconds.

Okay, then were they an attacking possession team?

Definitely not.

Forget whether Mourinho even believed in that philosophy.

Just look at Madrid’s average possession stats, which were equal to or lower than their opponents in many games. That alone proved they weren’t playing ”attack football.”

So from top to bottom, this Real Madrid felt… off.

Unorthodox.

A style with its own identity.

”Mourinho’s playing something new.”

This was the system that had already made Guardiola and his Barça players visibly uncomfortable back in the Spanish Super Cup.

Spatial compression, defensive counters, lightning-fast transitions, and deadly finishing.

If a modern-day fan were reading that description, they’d probably immediately think of Klopp’s 4-3-3 high press at Liverpool.

Indeed, Mourinho’s current setup had a lot in common with Klopp’s future system.

Tactically and structurally, the ideas were shockingly similar.

But the essence?

Very different.

Because deep down, Mourinho’s tactical soul was anchored in controlled victory.

Klopp? He was all about risk it all, win it now.

Tactically, that translated to:

Mourinho didn’t like overpressing the opponent’s build-up in their own half.He preferred setting up traps around the center circle.

Even when he advanced Leon and let the front line engage in hyper-aggressive pressing—like they had against Ajax—the move was selective, not routine.

He was always calculating.

Would his players still have enough energy to kill the game in the 70th minute?

Would they still be sharp enough for the final blow?

Klopp, by contrast, burned it all early. His team might gas out after 70 minutes, but he didn’t care.

”Because we’re going to win it before then.”

If his team pressed hard enough, if his forwards were clinical enough, he could destroy teams before fatigue ever became a factor.

And it worked.

Liverpool won both the Champions League and Premier League under him.

Klopp brought Liverpool back to life.

But even his most refined high-pressing machine was crushed by Real Madrid—twice.

Those losses led Klopp to develop a new system, one that blended high press with possession and long-ball orchestration—designed specifically to beat teams like Madrid.

But that was years away.

For now, Klopp hadn’t even fully assembled his high-press monster yet.

Back to Mourinho.

His style—half-press, half-possession, rapid acceleration—was born of his obsession with control.

Without Leon, this system might’ve died on the drawing board.

Khedira never became the player Mourinho hoped for.

In the end, Alonso had to do the grunt work.

Lass? Wanted to be the next Zidane, not a proper DM.

So Mourinho, short on reliable holding midfielders, nearly abandoned the system altogether.

Enter Leon—the butterfly that altered everything.

Thanks to him, Mourinho’s tactics had advanced faster and more cleanly than they ever had in the original timeline.

Leon gave Mourinho’s half-field pressing approach both steel and structure.

With a dependable ”spine,” Alonso could now focus entirely on organization and passing.

And as Alonso flourished, Madrid’s backline became a launchpad, linking perfectly with the elite attackers ahead.

They skipped the slow buildup from midfield—this Madrid played run-and-gun football.

And with a central core of elite talents:

CasillasPepeXabi AlonsoCristiano Ronaldo

Madrid had the second-best (if not best) lineup in the world down the spine.

Defense, organization, execution.

Top-tier across the board.

Without this kind of talent pool, Mourinho’s system wouldn’t shine like this.

So, it was no wonder that rival coaches, even after understanding the structure, couldn’t replicate it.

Because they couldn’t imagine how much freedom Mourinho gave to Alonso and Ronaldo.

How much trust he placed in them.

This Real Madrid?

They won when Cristiano got enough shots.

That was the formula.

And Leon?

He made sure Cristiano got all the shots he needed.

No one dared imagine that both of these superstars—Alonso and Ronaldo—not only accepted the immense trust placed in them, but consistently delivered near-flawless performances in return.

It could be said: as long as Leon kept his mindset focused and his form steady, Alonso’s own performance would always be solid.

With Alonso’s long passes and deep control guaranteed, and Cristiano receiving ample attacking possession and all the green lights to shoot, Real Madrid’s counterattacking firepower was also guaranteed.

The more opportunities Cristiano got, the more goals he’d stack.

Leon still clearly remembered: in his past life, this very season, Messi scored 50 league goals, while Ronaldo hit 46.

There’s only one word to describe that level of production—monstrous. No other term comes close.

It was the perfect marriage: tactics and star brilliance.

You couldn’t have one without the other.

Combined with the right supporting cast—players willing to play second fiddle, to sacrifice, to serve the system—Madrid had now reached its terrifying current state.

This system was almost impossible to replicate.

Because there was no second Xabi Alonso in world football, nor another Cristiano Ronaldo at his physical peak. Even similar profiles were hard to come by.

And how do you counter it?

You can’t. Even if you never give Madrid a transition opportunity—even if you turtle up, never step forward, just sit back and park the bus…

Madrid can still break you with set pieces.

Barça learned that lesson the hard way in the Supercopa.

From front to back, Madrid’s three lines were stacked with players who could win headers.

Try your luck, and you’ll just end up watching the scoreboard change.

And now, as European football started dissecting this ”new Real Madrid,” La Liga clubs still hadn’t figured out the true heart of Mourinho’s system.

Most didn’t even consider trying to reduce Madrid’s attacking phases.

They hadn’t realized where the fatal pressure came from.

At least, Pellegrini—former Madrid coach in the 2009–10 season and current Málaga manager—certainly hadn’t.

As he prepped his team to face Madrid at La Rosaleda, he still hoped to strike first by leveraging home advantage.

After all, this Madrid team still largely carried the foundation he had built.

He was familiar with them.

But on the night of October 22, as the match kicked off, Pellegrini immediately sensed something was off.

Madrid didn’t open aggressively.

Leon and Alonso dropped back inside their own half, sitting just in front of the center circle, waiting for Málaga to push up.

Callejón, starting again, pressured Málaga’s midfield build-up, as did Di María.

It looked like standard Mourinho: absorb, wait, pounce.

After watching this neutral rhythm play out for a couple minutes, Pellegrini began to wonder if he had overreacted.

Isco, controlling the ball, looked for options ahead.

As Málaga’s midfield core, he was confident in his dribbling, shielding, passing—all of it.

Even with all the hype around Leon, Isco wasn’t fazed.

Earlier, when passing around in his own half, he hadn’t felt any real pressure.

Madrid’s pressing looked more like light harassment.

But now, just past the halfway line—Leon charged him head-on.

And from the left, Callejón joined in. Double-team incoming.

Isco’s breathing hitched. Reflexively, he passed the ball sideways to Apoño.

Apoño, more experienced, sensed the trap.

He took one touch, then laid it off immediately to Toulalan behind him.

Just like that, Málaga’s first central build-up attempt died.

But sitting deep wasn’t their style.

In the first seven matches, they’d scored 11 goals—third-best behind only Madrid and Barça.

But they’d also conceded 10—worst among the top six.

Which meant one thing: they were too aggressive in midfield, too eager to attack.

Even if it looked dangerous to push forward, their players just couldn’t help themselves—they always wanted to try.

And so, six minutes in, Pellegrini and his squad began to regret it.

Alonso received a ball after Leon’s first interception, and immediately launched a long diagonal.

Higuaín won the header, flicking it on for Cristiano to unleash Madrid’s first real shot—28 meters out.

Cristiano barely adjusted before striking it. Rubén Martínez parried it away.

That was minute 4 of Málaga’s daring offensive push.

Two minutes later.

Leon and Alonso combined to steal the ball from Isco again.

Alonso wasted no time—another long pass.

Cristiano controlled it, accelerated past the aging Toulalan, cut inside past Jesús Gámez, and in front of 50,000 Málaga fans…

Smashed a low-angle rocket into the far corner.

No buildup. No hesitation. No forgiveness.

Leon, from deep, wasn’t even surprised anymore.

He’d seen it in training, and had joked more than once:

”When we let Cristiano shoot enough times, we win.”

Thank you for the support, friends. If you want to read more chapters in advance, go to my Patreon.

Read 20 Chapters In Advance: /johanssen10