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Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

Chapter 108: They Came to Madrid Saying They Were Here to Win—And Got Beaten 3–0 Again · Nov 11, 2026

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Chapter List (401)

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101 Chapter 101: Formation Core Leon — Bringing the XJBT Tactic to Real Madrid 2026-11-11
102 Chapter 102: You Can Be Better Looking Than Me, But Dirtier? Never—Because I’m the True Defensive Midfielder! 2026-11-11
103 Chapter 103: Don’t Panic, Xiao Ping—Barça Will Deliver 2026-11-11
104 Chapter 104: Breaking Through the Long Pass Barrier, Filling the Shortcomings 2026-11-11
105 Chapter 105: A Gift for Everyone—So No One Gets to Laugh at Anyone Else 2026-11-11
106 Chapter 106: When It’s a Friend, You Hit Even Harder 2026-11-11
107 Chapter 107: The Meaning of Real Madrid Is Victory—It Is Championship 2026-11-11
108 Chapter 108: They Came to Madrid Saying They Were Here to Win—And Got Beaten 3–0 Again 2026-11-11
109 Chapter 109: This Is Mourinho’s Trump Card—The Midfield Beast Trio PLUS Edition! 2026-11-11
110 Chapter 110: Barcelona, Salute This Season’s La Liga Champions! 2026-11-11
111 Chapter 111: A World Apart—You Can’t Turtle Up Against Bayern, Turtling Won’t Save You 2026-11-11
112 Chapter 112: I Told You—Leon Would Be the Key to Breaking Bayern Down! 2026-11-11
113 Chapter 113: On the Battle for Possession—Mourinho Says, “You’re All Trash Compared to Me” 2026-11-11
114 Chapter 114: Real Madrid’s Championship Aura Can’t Be Hidden Anymore—So They Won’t Hide It! 2026-11-11
115 Chapter 115: Barcelona’s Dynasty Has Ended—And Real Madrid Is Climbing to the Summit! 2026-11-11
116 Chapter 116: There’s No Shortcut to This Championship—Only Unity, Only Sacrifice 2026-11-11
117 Chapter 117: Equalized by a Header? We’re Not Bayern Munich! 2026-11-11
118 Chapter 118: Few Teams Are as Resilient as You—But I Just Want to Win 2026-11-11
119 Chapter 119: Let the Whole World Remember Our Names—We Are the Greatest Mourinho-Era Madrid! 2026-11-11
120 Chapter 120: When You Gaze Upon the Crown, Bow Your Head—And Salute the Treble Winners 2026-11-11
121 Chapter 121: In a Summer Window of an Arms Race, Madrid’s Selling Strategy Feels Out of Place 2026-11-11
122 Chapter 122: A New Era Begins—When the Young Replace the Old, Football Marches On 2026-11-11
123 Chapter 123: The New Generation Replaces the Old—A New Era in Football Has Arrived 2026-11-11
124 Chapter 124: We’re Still Growing—Real Madrid Is Still Growing! 2026-11-11
125 Chapter 125: If Anyone Forces Me to Pick a Side—I’ll Flip the Damn Table (Part 1) 2026-11-11
126 Chapter 126: There’s No Need to Overcomplicate Things Against Barça – Just Stick to Counterattacks and Aerial Balls 2026-11-11
127 Chapter 127: Watch Out—Here Comes Real Madrid’s Aerial Attack Squad! 2026-11-11
128 Chapter 128: Why Does That Number Ten Keep Charging Into Our Box?! 2026-11-11
129 Chapter 129: Luka, You’re My Natural-Born Midfield Partner 2026-11-11
130 Chapter 130: Winning a Trophy as Soon as You Arrive—So This Is What It Feels Like to Be at a Big Club? 2026-11-11
131 Chapter 131: The Fifth Trophy of the Year — Kings of Europe 2026-11-11
132 Chapter 132: The Birth of a New Midfield Duo — Twin Turbo Engines Engage! 2026-11-11
133 Chapter 133: So You Guys Are the So-Called New Kings of the Premier League? 2026-11-11
134 Chapter 134: You’re Not Vieira, and You’re Not Even Close 2026-11-11
135 Chapter 135: Li Ang Isn’t in the Top Five Defensive Midfielders—He Just Beat Two of Them 2026-11-11
136 Chapter 136: This Season’s ”Father-Son Match” Came Awfully Early 2026-11-11
137 Chapter 137: Sometimes, Charging Forward Is the Best Way to Break the Game 2026-11-11
138 Chapter 138: I Can Choose Not to Shoot—But You Don’t Dare Not to Defend 2026-11-11
139 Chapter 139: Farewell to the Jia Mansion—Same Atmosphere, Same Opening 2026-11-11
140 Chapter 140: Messi Drops Deep Early—A Smarter Barça 2026-11-11
141 Chapter 141: Wait, What? You Both Chickened Out? Just Fight Already! 2026-11-11
142 Chapter 142: Header Equalizer! Li Ang Only Scores in Clutch Moments! 2026-11-11
143 Chapter 143: Götze’s Hunger to Compete—The Battle of the ’90s Generation Stars 2026-11-11
144 Chapter 144: Come On—Show Us What You’ve Got, Challenge the Defending Champions! 2026-11-11
145 Chapter 145: Don’t Break Down—It’s Just That I’m Better Than You 2026-11-11
146 Chapter 146: We Are Here—Real Madrid Is Right Here! 2026-11-11
147 Chapter 147: Chaos Unleashed—Atlético Charges In Swinging a Giant Blade 2026-11-11
148 Chapter 148: Want to Advance? Now You Have to Look at Real Madrid’s Face 2026-11-11
149 Chapter 149: The Madman’s Temper—Public Opinion Erupts! 2026-11-11
150 Chapter 150: If You Can’t Get Past Li Ang, You Don’t Deserve to Face Pepe and Ramos 2026-11-11

Leon’s tongue-in-cheek ”small goal” from the start of the season—reaching the Champions League semifinals—was now on the brink of becoming reality.

A 3–0 away win with a clean sheet in the first leg? At the Bernabéu for the second? Real Madrid fans could barely imagine a scenario in which they’d lose.

Sure, it sounded a little arrogant. But what could you say?

Even if Mourinho’s style had sometimes been criticized by Madridistas, it was his leadership that had injected this much confidence into the team.

The players themselves were brimming with belief.

Just like last season, their path in the Champions League had been smooth so far.

Round of 16? Clean. Quarterfinals? Looking the same.

But unlike last season, this time they carried the real belief that they could break through the semifinal barrier and step onto the final stage.

Why?

Because they no longer feared Barça.

That mental weight was gone.

Beating them head-on had given Madrid the psychological edge they once lacked.

Bayern were strong—sure.

But stronger than a Barça side that had won two Champions League titles in three years?

Not many in the Madrid locker room thought so.

And that was a good thing. That kind of self-assurance was a mental advantage in itself.

Meanwhile, Leon, Xabi Alonso, and the other level-headed midfield and defensive players were like the team’s natural ”coolers.”

Their calm approach and cautious mindset helped subtly balance out the sky-high confidence levels in the locker room.

They didn’t need to extinguish the fire, just keep it from becoming overconfidence.

Self-aware confidence, not arrogance—that was the mental state you needed to face Bayern.

And when Mourinho saw that his squad still had plenty of grounded players after the Marseille match, he was relieved.

He took Cristiano Ronaldo to the post-match press conference.

Leon, after finishing his therapy and shower in the visitor’s locker room, jogged quickly through the mixed zone, skipping all interviews, and made a beeline for the team bus.

Reporters looked confused, but the other players knew exactly what he was doing.

Leon wanted to check the score of the Chelsea vs. AC Milan match.

”What the hell? It’s that intense?!”

He nervously unlocked his phone and was shocked by the headline.

Milan had drawn 3–3 with Chelsea at San Siro!

That was way too wild—not what he expected from Allegri’s usual conservative style.

Leon clicked the match timeline.

Sure enough—Milan had gone up 2–0 in the first half, only to be chased down by Chelsea in the second. A full-on slugfest.

”Yup, classic Allegri. Gets a two-goal lead and instantly switches to damage control. The guy won’t gamble unless he’s absolutely cornered.”

Leon smirked, already picturing Allegri screaming at Boateng and Seedorf to push up in the final minutes.

The other Madrid players were now boarding the bus, equally buzzed by the news.

Clearly, they’d seen the result too.

Neither team looked like a real threat to Barça yet, but if they got into form early, maybe they could at least make life hard for them.

Leon listened to his teammates’ excited chatter about how to beat Barça in the final and just chuckled.

A final against Barça?

If Chelsea managed to hit their stride after this round, Barça were in for more than just a minor inconvenience.

They’d be facing one of the most stubborn rocks in Champions League history.

A rock that wouldn’t just break their teeth—but one that could grind them down, crush them, and roll over them with force.

Leon closed his eyes and started daydreaming—not just about the second leg against Marseille, but about the Milan vs. Chelsea rematch.

That match would decide everything.

Would Barça get another free pass, or would they meet their match?

※※※

After taking a night flight back to Madrid, Mourinho made sure every player got home immediately for rest.

Even Benzema and Marcelo didn’t dare sneak off for late-night mischief.

The night passed without incident.

Leon slept until the afternoon.

After a grueling away trip, the players always needed at least 10 hours to properly recover.

Twelve wasn’t uncommon.

The coaching staff had wisely scheduled the recovery session for 4:00 p.m., giving the players time to eat a hearty lunch before arriving at the training complex.

While the players were lounging at home, the coaching staff was already hard at work preparing for the next match.

Real Madrid’s upcoming opponent: Osasuna.

They’d had a rough start to the season, hovering near the relegation zone, but now sat impressively in seventh place.

Looking at the table and their record, Osasuna was clearly no pushover.

Ten wins, thirteen draws, six losses—that was their stat line so far (with one delayed game).

What worried Madrid wasn’t Osasuna’s ability to win—it was their ability to force draws.

For a Madrid side focused on consistency, dropping points at this stage was the worst-case scenario.

But then the coaches looked at the goals for and against.

Osasuna had scored 37 goals—solid, ranking top eight in La Liga.

But they’d conceded 48—fourth worst in the league.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

Their attack was functional.

Their defense? A leaky mess.

Osasuna was the textbook ”offense as defense” team—score more than you concede, or at least score early and hang on.

It worked well against mid-table teams.

But against top sides with solid defensive lines?

They shattered.

Looking at their goal difference and head-to-heads, Osasuna had already conceded nearly 20 goals combined in matches against Barça and Madrid this season.

Still, credit where it’s due—they did beat Barça in the reverse fixture, 3–2.

Madrid fans had cheered them on back then for having the guts to attack.

Now that it was their turn to face Osasuna again, they hoped the team would tone down the aggression and just take the loss quietly.

But Mourinho and his staff weren’t nervous like the fans.

From their analysis, Barça had been caught off guard last time—not expecting Osasuna to go all-out on offense.

And second, Barça’s defense wasn’t quite as perfect as their stats suggested.

They dominated possession and pressed high, especially against weak teams, so their defense rarely had to face sustained attacks.

The midfield handled most of the dirty work.

But Madrid?

They were more direct. More physical. And their backline saw plenty of action.

Osasuna wouldn’t find any soft spots this time.

Leon’s joking ”little goal” from the start of the season—reaching the Champions League semifinals—was now on the verge of being fulfilled.

A 3–0 away win with a clean sheet, three precious away goals in the bag… Returning to the Bernabéu for the second leg, Madridistas were honestly wondering: how do we even lose from here?

Sure, it sounded arrogant. But with Mourinho’s tactical confidence—often mocked by fans—came this exact kind of assurance.

A belief, not just in winning, but in commanding.

The players were fired up.

This year’s Champions League run had gone just as smoothly as last season’s.

From the Round of 16 to the quarters, no hiccups. But now, they carried something they lacked before: true belief they could cross the semifinal line and walk onto the biggest stage in Europe.

Why?

Because Barcelona was no longer a shadow looming over them.

The psychological weight of ”Barça” had been lifted.

Real Madrid had beaten them head-on. That gave them the confidence to stare down any opponent.

Yes, Bayern was strong.

But stronger than the Barça that had won two Champions Leagues in three years?

Most of the squad didn’t think so.

And that confidence wasn’t a bad thing.

It gave Madrid a natural edge.

Meanwhile, Leon, Alonso, and the other calm-headed midfielders and defenders acted as the team’s natural temperature regulators.

They didn’t need to cool everyone down—just keep the confidence from becoming arrogance.

As long as no one got too high on themselves, they were in the perfect mental state to face Bayern.

Seeing the locker room still filled with grounded minds after the Marseille match, Mourinho was relieved.

He brought Ronaldo to the press conference.

Leon, meanwhile, after completing his therapy and a quick rinse in the away locker room, skipped the press scrum and ran straight to the team bus.

Journalists were puzzled.

But his teammates knew.

He wanted to check the Chelsea vs. AC Milan score.

”Holy crap—they went at it?!”

Unlocking his phone, Leon was stunned.

Milan and Chelsea had drawn 3–3 in the first leg at San Siro.

Not something you’d expect from Allegri, the king of conservative tactics.

Leon clicked open the play-by-play.

Sure enough—Milan had gone 2–0 up in the first half, only for Chelsea to storm back in the second.

A classic Allegri match—get ahead early, then freeze.

Leon chuckled. He could already picture Allegri screaming at Boateng and Seedorf to push forward in the final ten minutes.

As more Madrid players boarded the bus, the team was buzzing—everyone had seen the same headlines.

Neither Chelsea nor Milan looked like a true threat to Barça.

But if they found form now, maybe—just maybe—they could throw a wrench in the works.

Leon smiled listening to teammates excitedly discuss how to beat Barça in the final.

A final against Barça?

If Chelsea found their rhythm in the second leg, Barça would face something far more dangerous than expected.

They’d meet one of the most stubborn, infuriating, indestructible teams in Champions League history.

A stone wall—not just one that broke your teeth when you bit down, but one that would grind your bones if you dared test it.

Leon closed his eyes.

He was already looking forward to the next leg—not just Madrid vs. Marseille, but Chelsea vs. Milan too.

One match would decide everything.

Would Barça get another free pass?

Or run straight into a minefield?

※※※

After flying back to Madrid that night, Mourinho made sure every player went straight home.

Even Marcelo and Benzema didn’t dare break curfew.

The night passed quietly.

Leon didn’t wake up until late afternoon.

After away games, they all needed 10–12 hours of sleep to fully recover.

The coaching staff had wisely scheduled recovery training for 4:00 p.m.

It gave everyone time to rest, eat a big lunch, and stroll into Valdebebas at their own pace.

But while the players rested, Mourinho and his staff were already deep into tactical prep.

Next up: Osasuna.

A mid-table team that had surged to seventh place.

On paper, their season didn’t look threatening, but a deeper dive showed a team capable of causing headaches.

Ten wins, thirteen draws, six losses. That was their record so far.

They were draw specialists. Exactly the kind of team that worried Madrid most during a title run-in.

But then the staff checked the goal stats.

Thirty-seven goals scored. Forty-eight conceded.

Decent firepower—eighth-best in the league. But their defense?

Fourth worst in La Liga.

Suddenly everything clicked.

A classic ”outscore the opponent” team.

Live and die by offense. Get the lead, hang on. If not, hope to outshoot them.

It worked well against weaker teams.

But against top sides with elite defenses?

They crumbled.

Against Barça and Madrid combined this season, they’d already conceded nearly twenty goals.

To be fair, they had beaten Barça 3–2 in their second-leg meeting.

Madrid fans had cheered for them then.

But now? Now those same fans just hoped they’d lie down and take the loss quietly.

Mourinho, after analyzing everything, was completely calm.

Barça’s loss had come from underestimating Osasuna’s attack and having defensive gaps.

But Madrid’s defense?

On another level.

Barça’s system was built around possession and high pressing.

Their back line didn’t get tested much.

Madrid’s defenders?

Battle-hardened. Tested every match.

No surprises here.

Mourinho knew Osasuna’s style.

And he knew how to break it.

He named his starting 18 on March 30.

Osasuna’s training camp fell into despair.

Madrid were going full strength.

Coentrão, Ramos, Pepe, Arbeloa—all named.

No smoke and mirrors. Mourinho wasn’t bluffing.

He’d identified the weak spot and was aiming to finish them off clean.

March 31 arrived.

As both teams walked onto the pitch, even neutral fans watching the broadcast felt sorry for Osasuna.

4-3-1-2.

Mourinho rolled out not just his strongest back line—but also his most brutal midfield.

Leon, Alonso, and Essien anchored the half. Khedira pushed forward. Ronaldo and Benzema led the line.

From the first minute, Osasuna couldn’t cope.

No matter how strong Raúl García was, or how deadly Nino’s finishing could be, or how quick Sisi was on the wings—

None of it mattered.

They couldn’t get near Madrid’s box.

This wasn’t just Osasuna’s midfield failing.

This was the kind of setup even Europe’s elite clubs struggled to break down.

Mourinho unleashed the midfield press from the first minute.

No mercy.

Fifteen minutes in, Osasuna’s forwards were already winded.

And that’s when Madrid shifted gears—exploding into counters and wing attacks.

Leon and Essien went from destroyers to box-to-box threats, bursting forward to support the front line.

Alonso sprayed passes everywhere.

The waves of Madrid’s attack began.

In the 23rd minute, Ronaldo advanced down the left, feeding Leon in the half-space.

Leon, calm as ever, played a grounded diagonal pass straight to Essien on the right.

Essien, cutting inside, sent a through ball to Khedira charging into the top of the box.

Osasuna panicked.

Multiple defenders collapsed onto Khedira.

He calmly released it—square pass to Benzema on the right edge of the box.

Benzema took a touch, then faked a shot—

Instead, he hit a low cross.

Everyone flinched.

Ronaldo didn’t.

He pounced at the near post—tap-in. Goal.

Fernández was a step late.

Ronaldo had his goal. Madrid had the lead.

Mourinho clenched his fist, then sat back down.

Game over.

Madrid had this in the bag.

And they didn’t let up.

Final score: 4–0.

Leon even scored one himself—a header from a corner in the 78th minute.

Osasuna? Still the same team they were at the start of the season.

Strong going forward. But once their attack stalled, they collapsed.

With another league win in the books, Madrid were now just three wins away from clinching the title early.

Barça fans? Hopeless.

What were they supposed to believe in?

That Madrid would lose three games before Matchday 35?

Even dreaming, they wouldn’t dare hope that.

This season was over.

Time to think about next season’s title race.

Madridistas, meanwhile, celebrated all week.

It wasn’t until Marseille arrived in Madrid that they finally calmed down.

Everyone knew: the Champions League quarterfinal was already over.

Still, Real fans gave Marseille the respect they deserved.

But some Marseille players hadn’t given up hope.

Valbuena, for example, declared to AS:

”Leon said they came to France to win. We’ve come to Madrid for the same reason. I believe in miracles.”

French fans rallied behind him.

It didn’t matter.

On April 4, Real Madrid crushed Marseille again—another 3–0.

Valbuena sat crying on the turf after the match.

Leon saw him and sighed.

”Man… some flags just aren’t meant to be raised. Be careful next time, brother.”

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

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