Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

This time, Real Madrid’s celebration wasn’t as wild as it had been after going 2-0 up.

Maybe it was because Messi’s earlier assist for Villa had made the whole team overly cautious and composed.

Or maybe they had already used up their joy and adrenaline at 2-0.

When the 3-1 score essentially sealed the game, what the players and fans felt wasn’t ecstasy—it was a deep, solid sense of relief.

And with that relief, came a chant from every corner of the stadium, passionate and synchronized: ”DEFENSE!”

Yes, at the Santiago Bernabéu, Real Madrid fans themselves were calling for their team to defend.

If they hadn’t witnessed it in person, Spanish journalists never would’ve believed such a scene could happen in this stadium.

But it made perfect sense.

They were tired of losing.

Years of defeats against Barcelona’s tiki-taka era had left scars. Especially last year’s brutal Champions League semifinal loss—it had left a shame that Madrid fans would never forget.

So now, on the verge of victory in El Clásico, Madridistas shouted the most pragmatic of requests. No more drama. No more risks.

They wanted to win. Clean and sure.

And in that moment, Mourinho felt a rare sense of satisfaction.

Maybe in the future, fans at the Bernabéu would still boo when the attack stalled.

But today, they were truly standing behind him and his players.

What followed was ten minutes of gritty, no-holds-barred football. Tackles flew. Tempers rose.

Both teams gave everything they had—because they had to.

Arbeloa and Di María both ran themselves into cramping fits and had to be subbed off when they physically couldn’t continue.

Barça’s players weren’t happy about it, claiming the subs were time-wasting tactics and urging the referee to extend injury time.

Ramos snapped, marching over with arms behind his back to argue his case. Within seconds, both teams had crowded around the referee, arguing passionately.

Guardiola sat dazed on the bench.

He understood his players’ frustration, their unwillingness to accept defeat.

But watching them waste time arguing instead of playing—he could only call it one thing: foolishness.

Moments after the final act of drama, the referee’s whistle finally blew to end the match. Two fanbases, with polar opposite emotions, erupted.

Leon, utterly spent, had once again drained every ounce of his energy and stamina on the pitch.

So when the final whistle blew, he instinctively dropped into a squat on the turf.

Muscles burning, limbs aching, he growled softly, then collapsed onto his back, lying there in the shape of a giant ”X”.

How many kilometers had he run?

Fourteen? Fifteen?

He couldn’t say, and frankly, he didn’t care anymore.

In a normal match, sure, he could log those numbers and still feel okay.

But tonight, he had sprinted after Messi over and over again, covered for Marcelo, filled in for other teammates…

Marking Messi and doing everyone else’s defensive work—how could he not be exhausted?

Leon felt the last sliver of his stamina vanish as the game ended.

Amid the stadium’s roaring atmosphere, he thought he might rest for two or three minutes before getting up.

But a hand on his shoulder interrupted his recovery.

And then, a voice—gentle, layered with fatigue and complex emotion:

”You alright? Want your team’s doctor to take a look at you?”

Leon opened his eyes—and saw Messi sitting cross-legged beside him, completely unbothered about posture.

His longish hair was soaked, his eyes tired, yet still flickering with frustration and helplessness.

”Ah? I’m fine, fine… Wait—you’re still here, Leo? What, you want to swap shirts?”

Leon didn’t bother sitting up to talk—he just grinned and made a joke.

But what surprised him was that Messi actually paused, then nodded seriously.

Leon didn’t hesitate. He gritted his teeth, sat up halfway, and peeled off his shirt.

This was Messi’s 2011–12 season jersey. Why wouldn’t he trade?

He already had a Ronaldo jersey from earlier this season. Now he had both—he’d frame them together and hang them on his bedroom wall.

Two match-worn shirts from peak Messi and Ronaldo? Post a photo online, and he’d be the envy of every football forum.

Messi saw Leon eyeing his jersey with obvious satisfaction and couldn’t help but feel a little better himself.

”You guys played well this time. We weren’t ready. Next time…”

”Next time? You’ll get your revenge at Camp Nou, right? I get it. Just don’t go too hard on me, yeah? I’ve already lost to you twice—I might not survive a third time!”

”But your team won. Mine didn’t. What’s the point of me winning anything personally?”

”Well, at least the media will say you left the Bernabéu with your head held high. In public opinion, you’re still safe.”

Messi laughed and shook his head at Leon’s nonsense, then gave him a friendly slap on the back.

”I’m off.”

”See you at Camp Nou.”

Messi slung Leon’s jersey over his shoulder and walked into the tunnel without another word.

Leon lay back down on the turf, eyes closed, smiling peacefully.

※※※

The Spanish media was satisfied. This round of El Clásico had been thrilling enough, with plenty of excitement and drama.

Before the game, the press hyped up Real Madrid’s thirst for revenge to the maximum, and Madrid delivered—defeating Barcelona decisively, giving the media the perfect story to run with.

As public opinion exploded with talk of Real Madrid’s ”royal return,” the coaching staff was wrestling with a more immediate concern: the team doctor’s report.

Mourinho had seen it coming, so he was relatively composed.

”Ángel (Di María) and Álvaro (Arbeloa) will need at least two to three days of rest before they can resume recovery training and physiotherapy. As things stand, they won’t be available for the upcoming Copa del Rey match or the next league fixture. Sami (Khedira) is experiencing discomfort in his thigh muscle again. It’s not serious, but the medical team recommends he be rested for at least a week. And both Xabi (Alonso) and Pepe are physically worn down.”

After Karanka summarized the team doctor’s findings, Mourinho had a clear idea of the situation.

It was the day after the big win over Barcelona. Most of the first-team squad, having enjoyed a day and a half off, were returning to training that afternoon.

Mourinho hadn’t denied them more rest because he was heartless—he just had no choice.

The Copa del Rey was here, and the very next day, they’d have to travel to face Segunda B side Ponferradina in the fourth round of the tournament.

The opponent wasn’t exactly strong, but Mourinho wasn’t about to throw out a squad of Castilla youth players either.

Ponferradina was on par with Castilla in terms of league quality. A draw would be manageable, but a loss? That would be a PR nightmare Mourinho didn’t need.

”We’ll stick with our original plan. Use the most suitable rotation and backup players. We’re going to mold them into a new, cohesive unit.”

Mourinho had made up his mind. With the demands of competing on three fronts, he needed a proper second team to handle Copa del Rey matches and lower-stakes league games.

That was the only way the main squad would get the rest they needed.

At 2 p.m., once all the available first-team players had assembled at Valdebebas, Mourinho and Karanka formally set their plan in motion.

Adán would start as the goalkeeper in this second squad—more than capable.

Varane, Nacho, the returning-from-injury Albiol, and Carvajal made up the new defensive line.

Carvajal, interestingly, was assigned to play on the left—temporarily filling in as a left-back.

With Coentrão still recovering and Marcelo the only fit starter, Mourinho had no choice but to test Carvajal in the unfamiliar position.

In midfield, Leon, Lass Diarra, Granero, and Kaká formed a new four-man unit.

They lined up in a diamond midfield: Leon sitting deep, Granero and Lass on either side, with Kaká in the attacking midfield role.

Up front, the two strikers were Morata and Callejón.

Morata could drift wide and carry the ball, while Callejón was versatile enough to operate on either wing. The two could frequently switch positions to disorient defenses.

Of course, this was just a tentative arrangement. With Khedira’s fitness questionable, Kaká might soon return to the starting lineup, and the whole formation could shift from a 4-4-2 to a 4-3-3. In that scenario, Lucas Vázquez would replace Kaká in the rotation team.

That afternoon, the eleven rotation players began working quickly to gel as a new unit.

Leon, of course, was the exception.

He was a starter—and had burned through tremendous energy in the Barcelona match.

But thanks to the recovery supplements he used post-match, he was in the best physical condition of anyone on the squad.

Mourinho wasn’t about to waste that—of course he was going to keep running him like a workhorse.

With Kaká adjusting to a new role and Granero learning a different position, Leon naturally became the tactical core of the B squad midfield.

Lass and Granero’s long-standing issues were clearly not fixable, so Mourinho simply assigned Leon the role of the midfield orchestrator, carrying the ball forward when necessary.

As long as the defense held firm, a slightly slower tempo in attack was acceptable.

After all, if Lass was starting, the opponent likely wasn’t that strong.

And with the winter transfer window just around the corner, giving Lass some game time to build stats would make him easier to sell... cough.

Lass, oblivious, was thrilled that Mourinho still ”believed in him.”

Leon, however, had already sensed what was coming, and quietly offered a mental farewell to his teammate.

On the night of December 13, Real Madrid’s makeshift B squad—apart from Leon—took the field in Ponferrada.

It was the smallest professional stadium Leon had ever seen, seating just over 8,000 people.

But the Ponferradina fans were full of energy. When the teams walked out together, the crowd greeted the occasion with cheers—not jeers.

Understandable.

For Ponferradina to reach the fourth round of the Copa del Rey and face Real Madrid? That was already a dream come true for their supporters.

Madrid’s newly assembled rotation squad functioned reasonably well. There were a few minor slip-ups, but overall the team maintained smooth transitions in both attack and defense.

Leon was becoming increasingly comfortable managing the tempo from deep. Maybe not fully in control yet, but definitely showing all the right signs.

At least judging by the 2-0 halftime score against Ponferradina, Leon’s role as the midfield organizer was working perfectly, and Mourinho couldn’t be more reassured.

In the second half, Lucas Vázquez came on for Kaká, who had scored in the first 45 minutes.

Real Madrid switched to a 4-3-3, with Vázquez, Morata, and Callejón forming the attacking trident.

With Madrid completely controlling the midfield, Vázquez finally managed to beat his man down the flank in the 73rd minute and sent in a cutback that Morata slotted home, sealing the win.

3-0.

Madrid wrapped up the first leg of the Copa del Rey fourth round with a comfortable victory.

But in terms of media buzz, the result barely made a ripple outside the Real Madrid fanbase.

Leon’s composed and efficient playmaking from deep didn’t stir much excitement either.

After all, he had already shown his quality in league matches—this was just a Segunda B side. Real Madrid winning was the bare minimum. Some even complained they didn’t score enough.

Only a few sharp-eyed journalists picked up on something deeper in Mourinho’s lineup choices.

At first, they were hesitant. Maybe Mourinho had just coincidentally thrown together a second-string eleven without most of the regular starters.

But on December 17, when Real Madrid fielded the exact same lineup against Granada, those suspicions were confirmed.

”Mourinho is officially dividing Madrid into an A team and a B team for a full-scale rotation! The A team will handle the Champions League and big La Liga clashes, while the B team takes care of the Copa del Rey and mid-to-lower table league matches!”

”Leon’s an iron man! Plays with the first team, then turns around and leads the second team midfield—his stamina is insane!”

”Smart move by the coaching staff, but there are too many academy players in this B team. Can they really handle the pressure?”

”Let’s see how they do. Granada’s fighting relegation. If Madrid stumbles here, this whole plan could fall apart!”

The media and fans buzzed with interest after seeing the team sheet. Madrid haters were especially eager for a laugh—if the ”B team” got upset and lost their winning streak, it would be comedy gold.

At 9:00 PM local time, the match kicked off at Granada’s home stadium.

The crowd inside Estadio Nuevo Los Cármenes erupted. The Granada players came out fired up, immediately pressing Real Madrid’s new-look midfield with full intensity.

If it had been Madrid’s usual starting XI, Granada never would have dared play so aggressively.

But against a side composed almost entirely of rotation and youth players? They were fearless—and bold.

After all, Madrid’s cohesion was still untested. And there were a lot of fresh faces on the pitch.

Granada, desperate for points to avoid relegation, had nothing to lose. They surged forward, hoping to catch Madrid off guard early.

Worst case, they’d bunker down and fight for a draw. No real downside.

They tried to go over Madrid’s midfield with long balls, targeting the inexperienced backline.

But Raúl Albiol stepped up.

After spending the first half of the season recovering from injury, Albiol was finally fit again.

And let’s not forget—just a season or two ago, he had been a guaranteed starter. The only reason he wasn’t now was because of competition from Pepe and Ramos.

Granada’s strikers were no match.

Albiol won a clean aerial duel and nodded the ball back to midfield.

Granero headed it down, Leon collected the ball, evaded Ighalo’s press with a smooth lateral dribble, and then released Callejón down the right wing.

Madrid had weathered the opening burst—and now they hit back with what they knew best: the counterattack.

Without Alonso’s long passes, Madrid’s counters lacked their usual laser precision.

But for Granada, the speed alone was still overwhelming.

Callejón’s first forward run nearly ended with a dangerous cross to Morata, who threatened Roberto’s goal with a powerful header.

Granada were still trying to reset when, just four minutes later, Nacho made a clean tackle on the flank and sparked another break.

Leon received the ball and this time didn’t dribble—he sent an early long ball right over Granada’s back line.

The accuracy wasn’t perfect, but the pace was excellent, and the timing gave plenty of lead.

Morata broke the offside trap and charged into space, alone.

But still a bit short on confidence, with a defender closing fast, he chose to pass instead of shoot.

Kaká arrived at the top of the box, took the square pass in stride, and without hesitation, curled it into the far corner.

Less than six minutes in—and Madrid had taken the lead!

Granada’s fans were stunned.

This was supposed to be Real Madrid’s second team?

Because to them, it felt like they were playing against a solid mid-table La Liga squad!

Kaká embraced Morata in celebration, but most of the reporters had their cameras trained on one player near the center circle—Leon.

The kid really was the core.

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