Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

After the awards ceremony that night, Leon, Mourinho, and the rest of the Chelsea group didn’t rush back to London. The next Premier League match wasn’t until a week later, and Mourinho had given the entire first team two days off.

So after wrapping up a celebratory dinner with Mendes and Cristiano Ronaldo, Leon stayed the night at a hotel in Zurich.

The next morning, he enjoyed a rare chance to sleep in. Only then did he, along with Ibrahimović and Mourinho, board a plane back to London at a leisurely pace.

The Chelsea trio were now the darlings of the London media, with Leon receiving far more interview requests than even Ibra.

Despite Ibrahimović ranking higher in the Ballon d’Or standings, there was no doubt that the most popular footballer in London right now was Leon.

As Bild wrote after the Ballon d’Or rankings were released:

”If Leon had been granted the same attacking freedom at Real Madrid last year as he enjoys now at Chelsea, and pushed his stats to at least 15 goals and 15 assists in a season, he could have cracked the top five—or even the top four—in the Ballon d’Or rankings.”

In fact, based solely on this season’s first half, Leon had already become the undisputed best attacking midfielder in world football.

The article set off heated debate across the football community.

Of course, plenty of fans objected. If Bild had said Leon was the best all-around midfielder in the world, few would’ve complained.

But to declare him the best attacking midfielder? That struck a nerve.

After all, fans had long associated Leon with defensive brilliance more than attacking flair.

Most acknowledged his immense potential and his constant evolution as a player—but breaking the mold of preconceived impressions wasn’t easy.

Even when the stats were staring them in the face, many fans still defaulted to their mental image of Leon as a more defensive-minded player.

Still, Bild didn’t back down. When critics flooded in online, the outlet simply posted Leon’s current stats.

Their official Twitter threw out a challenge:

”Go ahead, find one midfielder in the world with more goal contributions than Leon.”

And then came the collective slap in the face.

As of the awards ceremony, Leon had racked up 15 goals and 14 assists.

Nearly 30 goal contributions—and the season wasn’t even two-thirds done.

The so-called skeptics checked around, only to realize: Yeah… no other attacking midfielder is touching that right now.

Their arguments crumbled in real time.

In England, the media across London and other cities were full of praise. Even the most critical fans of rival clubs had been silenced by Leon’s consistency on both ends of the pitch.

And if anyone did still have doubts—well, the second half of the season was just beginning. There’d be plenty more clashes between Chelsea and the other top sides.

If Chelsea lost, then Leon would have to accept the mockery.

But if Chelsea kept winning, and Leon continued shining? Then those same doubters would only be setting themselves up for public humiliation.

These kinds of media squabbles were nothing new, and seasoned managers and stars had long since learned to tune them out.

Mourinho especially treated media noise as mere background buzz.

Once he returned to London, he dove straight back into work.

Meanwhile, Leon—already back into his training rhythm—flipped through the fixture list during a medical checkup and noticed: their next Premier League opponent was Manchester United.

Last season, that would’ve been a big deal inside the Chelsea locker room. Players would’ve been buzzing with talk of the ”Red vs. Blue” showdown.

This year? Nothing.

Not one player mentioned United. It was like they were preparing for just another mid-table clash.

There was no tension, no anticipation, no ”big match” energy.

And it wasn’t just the players—Chelsea fans couldn’t even be bothered to get nervous anymore.

Sure, the local media in London and Manchester were doing their best to hype it up. But everyone knew the truth:

This was first-place Chelsea facing seventh-place United. No amount of hype could change that.

United weren’t suddenly going to morph back into title contenders overnight. There was no ”battle of giants” here—just another top team taking on a struggling one.

Still, United fans remained optimistic, even defiant. If someone reminded them that United were only seventh, they’d tack on inspirational qualifiers:

”Climbing from outside the top ten to seventh—now that’s a comeback!”

Gotta admire the spirit.

Say what you want about their bravado—technically, they weren’t wrong.

United had clawed their way up from the bottom half of the table into the upper third. Two more wins and they’d be in the top five. Not bad at all.

Their record wasn’t awful either: 11 wins, 4 draws, 6 losses after 21 rounds, good for 37 points. They trailed fourth-place Liverpool by just two wins.

They weren’t out of the race for Champions League qualification—not by a long shot.

In fact, compared to some of Arsenal’s ”late surges” in previous years, United were doing okay.

So sure, their fans were hopeful—and even a bit smug. Fair enough.

But United’s manager, David Moyes? He was under enormous pressure.

He was getting grilled daily by the board, bombarded with demands and ultimatums.

The veterans in the squad were unreliable, and of the stars in their prime, only Rooney was pulling his weight.

Van Persie? Two or three games, then another injury. His scoring efficiency had nosedived.

With goals drying up and the board refusing to fund January signings, Moyes had started considering youth promotions from the reserves.

As for the infamous ”Ferguson legacy” that United’s executives kept preaching?

Moyes felt utterly duped.

Ashley Young, Valencia, and Nani—just two years ago, they were elite wingers feared across the league.

Now? They were the butt of every joke.

One day they’d play like Ballon d’Or contenders, the next like Sunday league amateurs.

Even the players themselves couldn’t explain their inconsistency.

Moyes was at his wits’ end.

And as Chelsea quietly prepared for the match, their attitude was clear:

If United still wanted to act like contenders, fine.

Then Chelsea would help them exit with dignity—by beating them soundly.

Every time Moyes had to submit a starting lineup, it felt like he was opening a mystery box—he never knew what was inside.

He had no clue which winger might perform decently on the day, and which one would end up dragging the whole team down.

And then there were Cleverley and Anderson—players who gave Moyes nothing but headaches.

After managing 20 league matches, Moyes was desperate to ask Sir Alex Ferguson one simple question: How the hell did you win the Premier League with this lot last season?

Even if you gave Moyes last season’s version of a relatively healthy Van Persie, he still wouldn’t dare guarantee United a top-four finish.

From the high hopes of summer to the current reality of exhaustion and graying hair, Moyes had been in charge at United for just over half a year—and he was already falling apart.

Now, with a trip to face Chelsea looming, Moyes seriously considered parking the biggest bus football had ever seen at Stamford Bridge, praying for a 0-0 and calling it a day.

But of course, the higher-ups at United had to get involved.

Ed Woodward passed along an order: ”Play with United’s style. Show attacking football, even at Chelsea’s ground.”

When Moyes heard that, he nearly coughed up blood on the spot.

United’s style?

They’d be lucky just to sneak into the top six—who the hell was still talking about ”United style”?

If you want results, give me transfer funds!

Moyes had already warned them that most of the young players left behind by Ferguson weren’t good enough. But the board didn’t listen. And every time he asked for money, they’d hit him with the same line:

”You’ve got Ferguson’s legacy!”

That was it. They didn’t want to spend, but they still demanded results. It was insanity.

Moyes felt wronged, but the ship had sailed. Being manager of the biggest club in England was the biggest opportunity of his career. He couldn’t walk away.

So even if it all seemed ridiculous, he poured his energy into preparing for the Chelsea match, sketching out a tactical plan that aligned with United’s supposed identity.

Rooney, at least, understood the reality. After 20 matches this season, he knew exactly what his teammates were capable of—or not.

Before the Chelsea match, Rooney even pulled Woodward aside for a private chat. It seemed like he wanted to help ease the pressure on Moyes.

But the conversation didn’t go well.

Rooney left Woodward’s office visibly annoyed, and as rumors began to spread, the tension within United’s squad began to grow.

Of course, the fans knew none of this.

Compared to the fans in later years—those who had grown disillusioned with United’s chaotic management—this generation of Red Devils supporters still had hope.

On January 19th, they traveled in large numbers to London. Even as the away team, United fans made their presence felt.

During the warm-up, the away end at Stamford Bridge rang with passionate chants meant to fire up their players.

But on Chelsea’s side—both among fans and players—there was no doubt about the outcome. They knew they were winning this game.

Mourinho even had a contingency plan ready in case Moyes parked the bus.

The London press predicted a defensive United, expecting them to absorb Chelsea’s pressure and look for rare chances on the counter.

But when the match kicked off, United shocked everyone.

They came out pressing aggressively, taking the game to Chelsea.

Jaws dropped across press boxes and living rooms alike.

”Has Moyes lost his mind?!”

That was the collective thought among journalists and neutral fans.

No one could understand what United were thinking.

To play attacking football at Stamford Bridge? Against first-place Chelsea? With Mourinho’s home record?

It was suicidal.

But Mourinho? He wasn’t offended—he was thrilled.

It was like falling asleep and someone handing you a pillow.

He’d been wondering how to break through United’s defenses, and then Moyes went ahead and weakened them for him.

Chelsea’s players were surprised for a moment, but quickly adjusted and followed Mourinho’s orders to press back hard.

Leon and Matić stepped up, leading a wave of aggressive midfield pressing from the center circle in Chelsea’s half.

Januzaj? That skinny frame of his collapsed the moment Leon leaned into him.

Ashley Young and Valencia, starting on the wings for United, had no choice but to tuck inside and try to help Carrick carry the ball forward.

But going up against Matić and Leon? That was a losing battle—especially with Chelsea’s fullbacks providing additional pressure from the sides.

To help protect Carrick and strengthen the midfield, Moyes had Phil Jones start as a defensive midfielder.

But that only made things worse. Jones couldn’t help with ball distribution, and Januzaj had already been nullified by Leon.

So United’s entire midfield basically ran through Carrick—and he was up against Leon and Lampard.

It wasn’t a fair fight.

Within five minutes, United’s initial press had collapsed. Chelsea pinned them back and took control of the game.

The gulf in midfield quality was brutal. United were getting steamrolled.

Leon, after easily neutralizing Januzaj on defense, started pulling Carrick all over the pitch with clever passes and off-ball runs.

Ibrahimović posted up inside United’s penalty area, going one-on-one with Vidic. His mere presence sucked up defensive attention.

With both Vidic and Evans occupied trying to contain Ibra, Leon linked up with Hazard in the left half-space, exploiting the open channel.

In the 13th minute, Leon made a direct run through the center, then slid a perfectly timed pass into the left channel of United’s box.

Hazard, already on the move, glided into the penalty area.

Evans was late getting across. Hazard had all the time he needed to set himself and curl a shot toward the far post—his trademark finish.

De Gea never had a chance.

Chelsea were 1–0 up.

And they had no intention of easing off.

Originally, Chelsea had planned to let United off the hook with a ”graceful” loss. After all, they were old rivals.

If United had come in with a defensive mindset and played hard, maybe Chelsea would’ve been merciful—score a goal or two and call it a day.

But United had chosen arrogance. They came to Chelsea’s turf swinging like they owned the place.

It was like grabbing a tiger by the whiskers.

If United didn’t want to be graceful…

Then Chelsea would help them be graceful.

”Keep attacking! Keep attacking!”

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