When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 124 Munich Snow Night Revelation
On the evening of February 24, 2004, more than 2 Bayern Munich fans had already packed the stands to capacity under the giant tent roof of the Munich Olympic Stadium.

This landmark building, constructed for the 1972 Olympic Games, is now witnessing another major battle in the Champions League.

As the players from both teams walked out of the tunnel, the entire stadium suddenly erupted in a deafening roar.

The die-hard fans in the south stand were the first to move, stomping their feet in unison on the metal stands, making a dull thud that even caused the steel cables on the roof to tremble slightly.

At the very front of the south stand, a dozen burly men in red fleece-lined jackets stood shoulder to shoulder, forming an impenetrable wall.

They wore woolen hats with the Bayern Munich logo, and the big man in the middle with a full beard wore fingerless gloves and held a giant team flag that was at least ten meters long, swinging it from side to side to the rhythm of "Southern Star".

The cold wind whipped up as the flags fluttered, making the scarves of the fans in the back row lash against their cheeks like whips.

In the stands, tens of thousands of fans seemed to be linked together by invisible ropes.

They put their arms around each other's shoulders, quickly forming human chains that swelled around the entire stadium.

As the drumbeats quickened, the "chain" began to rise and fall. First, the South Stand suddenly sank down, followed by the West Stand, North Stand, and East Stand, which in turn slumped down and bounced up, like a red wave surging around the stadium.

Countless flags fluttered in the waves of people.

There were standard team flags with "FCB" printed on them, banners with Kahn's portrait hand-painted on them, and even a few faded old flags, which were souvenirs from the three consecutive Champions League titles in the 1970s.

The center of the south stand suddenly went dark. Tens of thousands of fans simultaneously held up red and white cardboard signs, forming half of the Bayern Munich logo with precision, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

As the wave of people passed by, the cardboard pieces undulated, making the huge team emblem seem to breathe.

Several photographers hurriedly adjusted their lenses, only to find that they couldn't capture the entire spectacular scene.

In the VIP section, Beckenbauer, wrapped in a black coat, slowly scanned the bustling stands.

Bayern Munich manager Uli Hoeneß was whispering something in his ear.

Chairman Rummenigge crossed his legs and tapped his fingertips on the armrest.

Not far away, Adidas CEO Herbert Hainer squinted at the Monaco players on the field, then suddenly touched his nose, turned to his assistant and whispered something.

As the sound reached its peak, the snow on the roof began to fall in a soft patter.

A snowflake hit Monaco goalkeeper Roma on the neck, and he jerked his head back, drawing laughter from Bayern Munich fans.

Roy, standing to the left of the center circle, simply tilted his head back, letting the snowflakes fall on his eyelashes, his gaze calmly piercing through the swirling snow curtain, looking toward the roaring South Stand.

TF1 commentator Thierry Rolland's voice echoed across France on television: "Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight we will witness a clash of titans! Monaco, unbeaten this season, will challenge the four-time Champions League giants, Bayern Munich!"

Thierry Rolland's commentary suddenly took a leap:
"Look! The referee is checking his watch!"

"On one side is the steel torrent of German powerhouses, and on the other is a brand-new storm blowing from the Mediterranean!"

Will Bayern Munich continue their reign as a Champions League powerhouse, or will Monaco create a new legend with their unbeaten run?

As the whistle pierced the Munich night sky, Roy finally lifted his eyelids and looked at the Bayern goal for the first time in its entirety.

There stood Kahn, the Lion King, his gaze as calm as if he were sizing up an ordinary goalkeeper.

Bayern kicked off from the center circle, Makaay gently pushed the ball to Pizarro, who then passed it back to Ballack.

Monaco's formation immediately pushed forward as a whole, with Morientes, Roy, and Giuly quickly moving forward to try to block Bayern's passing lanes from the back.

After Ballack received the ball, Pedretti and Bernardi immediately formed a double-team, closing in on him from the left and right like two pincers.

The German feinted, then stepped outward with his right foot, squeezing through the gap between the two men.

Pedretti reached out and tugged at his jersey, but Ballack's strong body only paused slightly before he continued to dribble forward.

"Barak! Typical German-style advance!"

Ze Roberto made a high-speed run down the left flank, and Ballack seized the opportunity to deliver a diagonal pass to him.

After receiving the ball, the Brazilian made a quick touch and faced Monaco's right-back Maicon directly.

Ze Roberto didn't slow down. He cut inside with his left foot, flicked the ball with the outside of his right foot, instantly creating half a body distance, and then swept a low cross into the penalty area!

"Ze Roberto's dance moves! The magician taught the young man a lesson!"

The 22-year-old right-back hurriedly turned around to chase back, but almost slipped and fell because of the slippery snow.

He desperately stretched out his leg to try and stop it, but it was too late.

The young Brazilian's face was filled with frustration as he watched his senior's retreating figure, experiencing for the first time the cruelty of the Champions League knockout stage.

Bayern's attacking line surged toward Monaco's penalty area like a tidal wave – Makaay made a feint at the near post to draw away Abidal, Pizarro made a run down the middle, Hargreaves made a diagonal run from the right flank, and Sagnol had even pushed up to near the halfway line.

On the sidelines, Hitzfeld stood with his hands in his pockets, watching the situation on the field with a blank expression.

Meanwhile, Deschamps on the other side couldn't hold back any longer. He rushed to the sideline and shouted into the field, "Get back on defense! Mark your man!"

Roy, unusually, began to chase back, his jersey back already soaked with sweat.

Morientes looked at Bayern's relentless attacks and for the first time showed a serious expression.

Goalkeeper Roma kept adjusting his position, his gloves slapping loudly, but it couldn't drown out the cheers of the more than 70,000 Bayern fans in the stands.

The Monaco players and coaches realized this at that moment.

From the knockout stage onwards, they will face teams that are completely different from those they have faced before.

Pizarro received the ball with his back to goal on the edge of the penalty area, and Squillaci and Abidal immediately closed him down.

The Peruvian striker feigned a turn, then gently flicked the ball with his heel, sending it precisely through the gap between the two players to find the onrushing Makaay.

The Dutch striker used his strong body to hold off Squillaci and unleashed a powerful right-footed shot.

Roma made a diving save, his glove barely touching the ball, deflecting it out of bounds.

"Makaay's shot—!!! Roma! An incredible save!!!"

Abidal made a hasty clearance, but the ball didn't go far.

Bernardi tried to control the second landing point, but Barak held him firmly in place.

The German midfielder chested the ball down and, before it even hit the ground, unleashed a powerful shot from 25 meters out!

"boom!"

With a muffled thud, the ball slammed against the top of the crossbar, causing the entire goal to tremble.

"Barak! The crossbeam is trembling! All of Munich is sighing!"

Maicon made no mistake this time, clearing the ball with a header before Ze Roberto could react.

Giuly tried to counter-attack after getting the ball, but the snow-covered turf made it difficult for him to accelerate.

As he stumbled forward with the ball, Roland's voice boomed again: "Monaco's counter-attack? No! Hargreaves is like a hound, relentlessly pursuing us!"

Giuly's two consecutive changes of direction failed to shake off Hargreaves, and he was eventually dispossessed by Demichelis near the sideline.

"Demikellis! A clean and decisive interception! Bayern's ironclad defense!"

Maicon threw the ball in, but Monaco's midfielders were like kites with broken strings, their positions sparse.

Bayern players immediately pounced on them like a pack of wolves.

Giuly was tightly marked by Lizarazu, and when Bernardi received the ball, Ze Roberto and Ballack had already sandwiched him from the left and right.

"Look at Bayern's pressing! It's like a pack of wolves tearing apart their prey!"

Bernardi hastily poked the ball towards the center circle, where Roy quickly rushed to receive it.

But before the ball had even come to a complete stop, Demichelis, Sagnol, and Hargreaves had already formed a triangular encirclement.

"Roy receives the ball! Three defenders surround him! He's in dire straits!"

The Bayern players' breathing was so close, Roy could even smell the sweat on their jerseys.

At the critical moment, Roy gently stepped on the ball with his left foot, and the ball obediently stopped in place.

Demichelis missed his target and stumbled past him.

"Step on the ball! Beautiful! Demichelis has been faked out!"

Immediately after, with a flick of his right foot, Sagnol's tackle only touched air.

"Cross-direction! Sagnol missed!"

Finally, with a clever pull from his heel, Hargreaves's outstretched long leg futilely swept across the grass.

"Heel! Good heavens! Hargreaves got tricked too!"

The Monaco fans in the corner of the stands gasped in shock, then erupted in a cheer as if they had just escaped a disaster.

Thierry Rolland's commentary trembled slightly with excitement:
"A magical escape! Monaco's number 10 danced on the edge of a knife! The gasps of 70,000 people in the stands! This is a flash of genius!"

"Roy dribbles at high speed—!!!"

Roy unleashed his explosive power in an instant, shooting off like an arrow.

His legs raced across the grass, his jersey clinging to his body, outlining the streamlined contours of his muscles, as if even the air itself was being cleaved apart by his speed.

Demichelis chased after him desperately, but could only watch the number 10 figure grow ever more distant.

Monaco's counter-attack surged towards Bayern's penalty area like a tidal wave – Morientes cut diagonally behind Kuffour, Giuly made a high-speed run down the right flank, and Rothen quietly pressed towards the edge of the penalty area.

Bayern's defense tightened instantly, with Sagnol and Lizarazu frantically tracking back, and Kovac loudly directing his teammates' positioning.

Kahn stood in front of the goal, his gloves slapping loudly, his roar echoing throughout the stadium: "Mark your man! Don't let anyone slip through!"

His blond hair stood out against the snow, and his eyes were fixed on Roy, who was carrying the ball, like those of a hawk.

Roy charged to the edge of the penalty area, but Hargreaves and Ze Roberto had already tracked back and blocked his path from the left and right.

But he suddenly stopped abruptly, flicked the ball with the outside of his right foot, and found Morientes making a precise run.

Spanish striker takes a shot upon receiving the ball.

"boom!"

Kahn leaped and tipped the ball over the crossbar with one hand.

The entire Munich Olympic Stadium erupted in gasps of relief, as if everyone had just escaped a disaster.

Bayern's defense executed a textbook defensive play in the blink of an eye, but Monaco's counter-attack sent chills down everyone's spines.

In the stands, Beckenbauer leaned forward slightly and adjusted his glasses.

Bayern Munich die-hards in the south stand had already created a wave of people, their red scarves billowing like flames.

Roy patted Morientes on the back, and the Spanish striker shook his head in frustration.

"Come again!"

Roy raised his arms three times in a row and shouted to his teammates.

Monaco players quickly gathered at the corner flag, with Rothen and Pedretti making tactical hand gestures.

Among the crowd of fans in the stands, 14-year-old Bayern Munich youth academy player Müller was squeezed into the front row, his brown curly hair standing out in the crowd.

"Guard him!"

He shouted in his voice, which was still going through puberty.

On the other side of the stadium was Nagelsmann, the future great coach who was then a young player at Munich 1860, but a fan of their arch-rivals.

They stomped their feet rhythmically along with the Bayern Munich die-hards, and the stands emitted a dull rumble.

Kahn was loudly directing the wall of players in front of the goal line; his shouts even drowned out the cheers from the south stand.

Kovac held onto Morientes' jersey tightly, while Kuffour stood like a tower in front of Roy.

The snow was falling heavier and heavier, and the snow in the corner flag area had already covered the players' cleats.

Monaco took a corner kick, and Squillaci leaped up in the crowd, but his header went wide.

Kovac got there first, heading the ball out of the penalty area.

Pedretti and Demichelis were entangled on the edge of the penalty area, pulling and tugging at each other to contest for the ball.

The ball bounced towards the edge of the penalty area amidst the chaos, and Roy suddenly burst out from the gaps in the crowd, meeting the incoming ball with a powerful shot—

But the moment he touched the ball, Kuffour and Sagnol collided with him from both sides at the same time.

Roy's shot was disrupted, and he lost his balance and fell in the snow.

Kahn firmly pressed the ball onto the goal line, but this time he didn't get up immediately. Instead, he took a deep breath and pressed the line for a few more seconds before slowly standing up.

The players quickly dispersed, and Roy got up using the grass as leverage, patting his shorts that were soaked with snow.

The referee made no call, and the game continued.

In the 18th minute, the Munich Olympic Stadium erupted in cheers.

The moment Sagnol received the ball on the right wing, the entire stadium erupted in a unified chant: "Bayern! Bayern!"

Dozens of blood-red cold flames suddenly shot up from the south stand, and thick smoke spread like a giant wave along the stadium's sailboat-shaped roof, turning half the sky blood-red.

Evra had just stepped forward to block when Sagnol threw him off balance with a backheel.

Hargreaves, understanding perfectly, slipped in from the side, and the two executed two consecutive one-two passes with surgical precision.

The roar from the stands grew louder with each pass, and when Sagnol kicked the ball in, 70,000 people simultaneously let out a long "whoosh!"

Inside the penalty area, Makaay and Squillaci were locked in a fierce battle like two angry bulls.

The Dutch striker leaped with his neck muscles taut like steel as Squillaci grabbed his shirt, his forehead slamming into the ball!
On the far end, Roy was sprinting back to defend, his jersey hem stretched out in a straight line behind him.

"boom!"

As Roma secured the ball, a sigh of regret erupted from the south stand.

But then thunderous applause erupted.

The crimson fireworks were still billowing in the stands, and Bayern fans continued to cheer for their team with even more frenzied shouts: "Mia san mia! (We are who we are!)"

21 minutes.

Roma caught the ball and immediately launched a quick counter-attack with a throw-in.

Abidal observed for a moment and then delivered a precise 40-meter long pass to Roy.

Demichelis immediately closed in, but Roy used his back to sense the defensive position, then suddenly flicked the ball behind him with his right heel while quickly turning around!
Seeing the situation was not good, Kufour made a sliding tackle, and Roy jumped up lightly, but was still deflected and stumbled. The referee called a foul.

In the 24th minute, Bayern cleared the ball with a long kick from their own half, sending it flying high toward the center circle.

Barak and Pedretti both looked up to judge the landing point, and the two jumped almost simultaneously to compete for the header.

"boom!"

With a muffled thud, their foreheads collided violently.

Barak staggered two steps when he landed, and blood immediately gushed from the wound on his forehead, flowing down his brow bone to his cheek.

The German player simply wiped his face haphazardly with the hem of his jersey, the blood-stained corner fluttering in the cold wind.

On the other side, Pedretti fell backward to the ground with his eyes closed.

Monaco's team doctor rushed onto the field.

Deschamps paced anxiously back and forth on the sidelines, constantly rubbing his hands together.

Roy was the first to rush to Pedretti's side, kneel down on one knee, and gently pat his cheek.

"Benoir, look at me!"

Roy lowered his voice, his tone filled with anxiety and concern, "Can you hear me? Where are you hurt?"

Pedretti's eyelashes trembled slightly, and her eyes were still somewhat unfocused.

Roy leaned close to his ear, his voice firm yet gentle: "Don't rush, take your time. The team doctor is right here, we'll take good care of you."

The French midfielder's fingers twitched slightly, and he slowly opened his eyes.

After the team doctor provided basic hemostasis, Pedretti struggled to sit up and gave a thumbs-up to the sidelines.

Roy and Bernardi helped him up, one on each side, and Morientes patted him hard on the back.

"Can you still play?"

The referee came over and asked.

Pedretti nodded, spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, and tightened the loose shoelaces again.

In the 28th minute, Roy dropped back to the center circle to receive a pass from his teammate.

He casually tapped the ball with his right foot, but his eyes were constantly scanning the situation in the attacking third.

Demichelis hovered two meters in front of him, hesitating whether to step forward and press the attack.

In that instant, Roy suddenly looked up, flicked the outside of his right foot, and sent out a low through ball!
As if by magic, the ball precisely slipped through the gap between Bayern's two center-backs and headed straight for the penalty area!

A collective gasp of alarm erupted from the south stand of the Munich Olympic Stadium.

Bayern Munich's die-hard fans stood up in unison, some of them nervously covering their mouths.

Morientes launched himself like an arrow, perfectly breaking the offside trap!
On the sidelines, Hitzfeld suddenly stood up from the coaching bench, his hands clenched into fists.

His gaze was fixed on Kovac, who was rapidly chasing back, his lips pressed into a straight line.

On the other side, Deschamps had already rushed to the vicinity of the sideline, his right hand unconsciously raised in mid-air, ready to celebrate at any moment.

Kovac chased back desperately, and just as Morientes was about to enter the penalty area, the Croatian center-back made a flying sliding tackle to cleanly clear the ball out of bounds!

The entire Munich Olympic Stadium erupted in deafening cheers, and the fans in the south stand clapped and shouted with relief.

Hitzfeld then breathed a sigh of relief, turned around and said something to his assistant coach, his face regaining its composure.

Deschamps shook his hand in frustration, but quickly applauded the brilliant attacking play.

He gave Roy a thumbs-up, indicating that the pass was excellent.

In the 32nd minute, Ze Roberto made a series of dribbling changes of direction on the left wing, forcing Maicon to reach out and pull him down, and the referee blew his whistle.

Bayern Munich are awarded a free kick on the left side of the attacking third.

Monaco players quickly formed a wall, with Roy standing on the outside of it, leaning slightly forward, his eyes fixed on Ballack's every move, ready to launch a counterattack at any moment.

Goalkeeper Roma clapped his hands quickly behind the wall, loudly directing his teammates to their positions and constantly adjusting the defensive formation.

Ballack stood in front of the ball, took a deep breath, and looked firmly at the goal.

He took a few steps to run up and then unleashed a powerful right-footed shot!

The ball flew like a cannonball toward the top right corner of the goal.

Squillaci leaped up fearlessly, blocking the ball with his thigh, then collapsed onto the grass in agony, letting out a roar.

In the stands, Thomas Müller nervously gripped his scarf, his eyes wide open.

When Squillaci blocked the shot, he jumped up, but then saw Hargreaves cleverly follow up with a shot, and his heart jumped into his throat again.

Roma made a diving save, palming the ball out of bounds. Müller and the Bayern fans around him let out a sigh of disappointment, and some held their heads in frustration.

Roy saw the ball blocked outside the wall and immediately turned to prepare for a counterattack, but Bayern's defense had already quickly returned to position.

He waved to his teammates, signaling them to stay calm.

The Monaco players gestured to each other, encouraging one another for their successful defense.

Squillaci limped to his feet, patted his thigh where he had blocked the ball, and gave his teammates a thumbs up.

In the 35th minute, Giuly received a pass from his teammate on the right wing and faced the defense of veteran Lizarazu.

Giuly made three quick changes of direction in an attempt to break through, but Lizarazu followed closely like a shadow, always maintaining a perfect defensive distance of an arm's length.

Just as Giuly was preparing to cut inside for the fourth time, Lizarazu suddenly lunged forward and made a clean tackle to clear the ball out of bounds.

Both of them fell down on the grass near the sideline.

Lizarazu was the first to stand up and reached out to help Juli up.

“A nice attempt, Ludo,” Lizarazu patted Giuly on the back with a kind smile, “but next time I’ll be one step ahead.”

Kuri nodded, panting, and gave a helpless smile.

“I’ll be faster next time,” he replied, brushing the grass clippings off Lizarazu’s shorts.

In the stands of Monaco's away games, Giuly's wife, Anna, held their five-year-old son, Diego, tightly.

Little Diego stared wide-eyed, clutching nervously at his mother's clothes.

"Is Dad alright?"

he asked quietly.

Anna gently stroked her son's hair and comforted him, "Daddy's fine. Look, he's standing up again."

But her brow remained furrowed, her gaze always following her husband on the field.

In the 41st minute, Roy received the ball with his back to goal in the heart of midfield, and Hargreaves immediately pounced on him like a tiger.

Monaco's number 10 deftly pulled the ball back with his right foot to turn, then flicked it with his left foot, leaving the Englishman with nothing to parry!

Seeing this, Demichelis immediately covered, but Roy suddenly used a rabona to change direction, instantly shifting the Argentine midfielder's center of gravity!

Facing Kuffour's final block, Roy flicked the ball with his heel in a split second, and the ball went precisely through the Ghanaian's legs!

Unfortunately, the final shot was blocked by Kovac's body as he tracked back.

The entire attack was executed flawlessly, eliciting gasps of amazement from the stands.

In the blink of an eye, Kahn had already launched a long kick into the goal.

The ball swept across the halfway line, and Makaay and Squillaci engaged in a fierce aerial battle. The Dutchman used his powerful core strength to pass the ball towards the edge of the penalty area.

Pizarro volleyed the ball before it even hit the ground! Roma leaped into the air and tipped the ball over the crossbar with one hand!

"You don't need him to win this match, Flavio!"

Squillaci rushed over and slapped Roma hard on the back, yelling, "Kill the Germans!"

The Monaco goalkeeper nodded, panting, his eyes gleaming with determination.

Although his fame is far less than that of the legendary goalkeeper on the other side, his performance at this moment is by no means inferior.

Within a minute, the two sides traded blows, with the offense and defense switching so fast it was breathtaking.

Deschamps and Hitzfeld stood on the edge of the control area, watching the situation on the field with bated breath.

On Monaco's bench, the players spontaneously stood up and applauded the exciting attack and defense.

Meanwhile, on Bayern's bench, Schweinsteiger clenched his fists, eager to get on the field and help out.

In the 43rd minute, Demichelis made a vicious sliding tackle from the side and behind, his studs grazing Rothen's ankle.

Monaco's attacking midfielder fell to the ground in pain, clutching his ankle and rolling on the grass.

"Are you fucking crazy?!"

Bernardi was the first to rush forward and shove Demichelis hard, knocking him to the ground.

Barack immediately stepped forward to protect his teammate, using his chest to push Bernardi away: "Calm down! This wasn't intentional!"

The scene suddenly became chaotic.

Monaco players surrounded the referee, while Bayern players formed a human wall to protect Demichelis.

Roy rushed into the crowd and grabbed Ballack's jersey: "Is this what German football is all about?"

Barak retorted in broken but forceful English: "Fuck off! This is a man's game! If you can't play, get out!" Their foreheads almost touched, and their breaths mingled in the cold air.

The referee blew his whistle repeatedly, struggling to separate the two teams.

After being reminded by the assistant referee, he showed a yellow card to both Demichelis and Bernardi.

In the commentary booth, Thierry Rolland's voice trembled: "Ladies and gentlemen, we are witnessing a real battle! Demichelis' tackle was indeed too fierce, but Bernardi's reaction was also too intense. This is the intensity of the Champions League knockout stage - every inch of the grass is burning! The confrontation between Roy and Ballack, the two key players, perfectly illustrates the gunpowder of this match!"

He paused briefly, then continued, "But please note that in such a high-intensity confrontation, the referee's ability to control the game is crucial. This yellow card is a warning to both sides: intense confrontation is acceptable, but out-of-control violence is absolutely unacceptable. Now, let's see if Monaco can capitalize on this free-kick opportunity."

45+1 minute
The final attack in stoppage time! Roy received the ball on the left wing, and Hargreaves, Demichelis and Lizarazu immediately surrounded him.

Monaco's number 10 made two sudden stops and changes of direction in tight spaces, then abruptly backheeled the ball! Rothen arrived in time, poised to unleash a powerful shot from the edge of the penalty area—

"boom!!!"

The ball, with its strong external spin, slammed into the top edge of the crossbar and bounced towards the stands with a deafening thud that echoed throughout the Munich Olympic Stadium.

Rothen knelt on the grass, his hands covering his head; Roy looked up at the sky, his eyes closed, his chest heaving violently.

"Crossbar! My God! The goalposts at the Munich Olympic Stadium have saved Bayern again! Halftime!"

The commentator Thierry Rolland's voice was almost hoarse.

Monaco players walked off the pitch in twos and threes, their sweat-soaked jerseys clinging to their bodies.

Roy bent over, supporting himself on his knees and panting. Morientes came over, put his arm around his shoulder and said something. The two of them limped toward the passage.

Pedretti's forehead was still bleeding, and the team doctor hurriedly handed him an ice pack.

On the Bayern side, Kahn roared at the defense as he walked, constantly gesturing with his right hand to indicate defensive positions.

Barak's brow bone wound had congealed into a dark red scab, and he was having a heated discussion with Kufur, who was wrapped in bandages.

Ma Kai lowered his head and took a big gulp of sports drink, squeezing the bottle so hard it made a cracking sound.

On the coaching bench, Deschamps patted each Monaco player hard on the back, and especially held Roy's shoulder for a long time while whispering in his ear.

On the other side, Hitzfeld coldly instructed the players on tactics one by one, but suddenly showed a rare smile when Ze Roberto passed by.

Despite Bayern Munich fans occupying 90% of the 70,000 seats, the Monaco away fans consistently created a buzz in the corner stands.

At this moment, they are singing "Daghe Munegu" (the Monaco dialect team song), creating a wonderful harmony with the home team fans' "Stars of the South".

An elderly man with white hair even took off his coat and waved it, revealing Roy's number 10 jersey on the back.

Thierry Rolland took a deep breath and gave his halftime summary:

"Ladies and gentlemen! These 45 minutes encapsulate the essence of the Champions League!"

“12次射门像12发炮弹！6次绝佳机会让我们的心跳每分钟180次！3次门框的震颤让七万人同时窒息！2次流血冲突见证铁血与技术的碰撞！”

"Look at Roy—he made Bayern's defense suffer tonight! Look at Kahn—the Lion King defended his dignity with three incredible saves! Look at the sweat, the blood, and the eyes that refused to bow down! That's why we love football so much!"

"Those 15 minutes in the locker room aren't a rest, they're the calm before the storm! In the second half, I'm betting my entire commentary career—it will be even crazier!"

Bayern Munich's locker room.

Hitzfeld slammed his fist on the tactics board: "This is the Munich Olympics! Seventy thousand eyes are on you! Look at your performance in the first half—weak! Hesitant! This is not Bayern! This is a disgrace!"

"Makaay! You wasted three chances! Pizarro! Your runs are like you're taking a stroll! Sagnol! What about your crosses? Were you scared off by that French kid?"

"I want to see fighting spirit in the second half! I want to see you crush the Monaco players on the pitch! Remember, if you lose this game, your names will be etched on Bayern's pillar of shame!"

The Monaco dressing room.

Deschamps’ voice was deep and sharp: “They thought the game was over. They thought we would be overwhelmed by the roar of the Munich Olympics.”

"Roy, did you see Kuffour's scraggly turn? Morientes, can you smell the burning on Kahn's gloves? These Germans are scared! They know better than we do—if they lose this game, their Champions League campaign is over!"

"Three thousand fans followed us to Munich, not to see us go home on our knees! In the second half, I'll have you tearing us apart like hungry wolves! Let Bayern remember this night! Let all of Europe remember the name Monaco!"

"This is our battle for glory!"

Hitzfeld's voice boomed in the Bayern Munich locker room.

"This is their life-or-death battle."

Deschamps sneered in the Monaco dressing room.

"The dignity of this century-old family must not be allowed to crumble here!"

Hitzfeld's gaze swept across the locker room—Kahn's disheveled blond hair, the wound on Barack's brow bone, and Mackay's clenched fist.

"The ambition of an unknown nobody is burning brightly here!"

Deschamps' gaze swept over the faces—Roy's sweat-soaked bangs, Morientes' bruises on his knees, and the cracks in his Roman gloves.

"Let Bayern Munich crush their illusions with their iron will!"

Hitzfeld scanned each player's bloodshot eyes.

"Let the flames of Monaco burn through their arrogance!"

Deschamps' gaze swept across the locker room like a knife.

The two locker rooms suddenly fell into dead silence, with only the sound of panting rising and falling.

"90 minutes later—"

Hitzfeld's voice suddenly lowered.

"Either leave with regret—"

Deschamps spoke as if he were grinding his teeth to powder.

"Either bring legend—"

"keep going!"

The doors to both locker rooms were pushed open at the same time, and the blinding stadium lights shone in.

Meanwhile, in other parts of Europe, the Champions League is also in full swing.

Valladolid Stadium, Vigo, Spain.

As the Arsenal players walked out of the tunnel, they were greeted by a deafening chorus of boos.

The 1-1 scoreboard flashed in the rain, and Wenger stood on the sidelines with his hands on his hips, his glasses covered in water droplets.

Celta Vigo coach Antić kept waving his hands to signal his players to push forward, his shouts drowned out by the cheers of 40,000 fans.

Leitner Stadium, Prague, Czech Republic.

AC Milan's stars are going through an unexpected tough battle.

Kaka's jersey was torn and deformed, Inzaghi kept complaining to the referee, and Pirlo's passes were frequently blocked.

The deafening Czech cheers from the stands forced Shevchenko to cover his ears as he crossed the touchline.

Ancelotti's brow furrowed deeper and deeper—no one had told them that Sparta Prague's home ground would be so formidable.

This is the Champions League knockout stage – there are no weak teams, only warriors.

Every stadium is witnessing its own epic story.

Morientes gently passed the ball to Rothen, and the Bayern players immediately pounced on it like tigers.

Makaay and Pizarro quickly pressed forward, and after a series of passes in Monaco's backfield, Bernardi tried a long pass to Giuly, but the ball was intercepted by Demichelis just past the halfway line!
Bayern immediately countered! Ballack received the ball and strode forward, just as he was about to pass it to Ze Roberto on the wing, Pedretti made a fierce sliding tackle to steal the ball!

The ball bounced high and flew towards Roy near the center circle!

Roy leaned against Salihamidzic with his back turned, deftly hooked his right foot, and instantly turned around to get rid of him!

He looked up to observe, then quickly passed the ball to Rothen, who had made a run forward, and Monaco's attack was launched again!

Rothen dribbled forward, played a one-two with Giuly, and then passed the ball diagonally to the left wing, where Evra made a high-speed run and crossed the ball!
The ball was cleared by Kuffour at the first touch, but fell to Pedretti on the outside, and Monaco launched a second attack!
Pedretti passed the ball across to Roy, whose number 10 received the ball on the edge of the penalty area, facing Hargreaves's marking.

He adjusted his position by flicking the ball with the outside of his right foot three times in a row, then suddenly feigned a shot!
Hargreaves and Demichelis, who was covering, were both fooled. In the instant their balance shifted, Roy took another light step and then unleashed a powerful right-footed shot!

The ball flew like an arrow through the defenders and headed straight for the bottom right corner of the goal!
Kahn lunged to the side, but a sudden sharp pain in his back muscles slowed his movements by half a beat!

The ball slammed heavily into his palm, bounced up, and then strangely flew over his head before spinning into the net!
In the stands, Chen Lan held her breath, while Luo Wen and Luo Mi stared wide-eyed; in Monaco bars, fans stared at the screen, their glasses hovering in mid-air; in Paris apartments, new fans gripped the sofa cushions tightly, the blue light of the television reflecting on their faces; at Nike headquarters, executives stood frozen at the conference table, the projector beam still; on the streets of Menton, veteran fans stood in front of an outdoor screen, cigarettes burning down to their fingertips.

The moment the ball went into the net, shouts erupted from all directions at the same time.

1-0! Monaco takes the lead away from home!

"BUUUUUT!!! Goal!!!"

"From the backfield to the frontfield, Monaco tore apart Bayern's defense with a series of passes. Roy's feint in the penalty area was too beautiful, Hargreaves and Demichelis were completely fooled."

"Kahn did his best to save, but the ball hit his hand and bounced into the net. This goal showed Monaco's patience and teamwork, and Roy's final shot was clean and decisive."

"The Olympic Stadium is now completely silent, except for the Monaco fans cheering. Bayern Munich needs to be careful; they must respond as soon as possible."

Roy dashed toward the corner flag like an arrow, opening his arms to welcome his swarming teammates.

The Monaco players on the field frantically converged on that spot, surrounding their number 10.

Kahn knelt in front of the goal line and pounded the grass hard.

The Munich Olympic Stadium fell into a deathly silence.
In the VIP section, Beckenbauer pursed his lips, while Hoeneß's face was terribly gloomy.

Adidas CEO Herbert Hainer looked at Roy, who was surrounded by his teammates, with a complex expression.

Amidst the swirling snowflakes, Roy broke free from his teammates' embrace and raised his arm to salute the Monaco fans in the stands.

His face was covered in snowflakes, and he gently patted the team badge on his chest as he left the field.

"Allez Monaco!"

The shouts of three thousand Monaco fans drowned out the silence of seventy thousand Bayern Munich fans at that moment.

The sound waves pierced through the wind and snow, echoing for a long time within the steel structure of the Munich Olympic Stadium.

The stadium DJ hesitated for a few seconds before mechanically announcing in German: "Tor durch Monaco Nummer 10 Roi." (The goal scorer is Monaco, number 10, Roi.)

His voice echoed in the empty stadium, but received no response.

Seventy thousand Bayern Munich fans remained silent, while only the Monaco fans in the stands erupted in louder cheers.

The DJ's announcement was quickly drowned out by shouts of "Allez Monaco," as if it had never existed.

The snow fell heavier and heavier, covering the footprints on the grass.

In the 48th minute, Roy's goal ignited Bayern's fury.

Kahn retrieved the ball from the net, kicked it long towards the center circle, his eyes fierce as if he wanted to kill.

Bayern Munich pressed forward, unleashing a tidal wave of attacks towards Monaco's penalty area.

In the 49th minute, Ballack unleashed a powerful shot from outside the penalty area, which Roma made a diving save!

In the 52nd minute, Ze Roberto broke through on the left and cut the ball back, Makaay pushed the shot in front of the goal, but Squillaci blocked the shot with his body!
In the 55th minute, Salihamidzic crossed from the right, and Pizarro's header struck the crossbar! Monaco's goal was under immense pressure.

But Monaco did not collapse.

In the 60th minute, Rothen intercepted the ball in midfield and launched a through ball that pierced Bayern's defense! Roy, like a ghost, successfully beat the offside trap and sprinted towards the penalty area! Facing the onrushing Kahn, he delicately curled a shot with his right foot—

Kahn leaped into the air and tipped the ball over the crossbar with both hands!
Corner kick!

Rothen took the corner kick, and in the ensuing scramble at the near post, the ball slipped towards the far post! Roy suddenly shook off Hargreaves's marking and leaped into the air from an almost impossible angle to execute a bicycle kick!

Kahn made another incredible save, palming the ball away! But Morientes charged in like a tank, pounced on the rebound from just one meter out and slotted it into the net!
2-0! Monaco scores again!
Roy got up from the ground and collided violently with Morientes.

The two grabbed each other by the collar and roared, then burst into laughter.

The Monaco bench erupted in cheers!
Deschamps and assistant coach Jean Petit hugged tightly, both of them blushing, and Deschamps even jumped up excitedly.

Strength and conditioning coach Pintus stormed onto the sidelines, pumping his fist, and celebrated with chest bumps with the other coaching staff.

On the field, the Bayern players seemed frozen in place.

Kahn leaped from the grass, slamming his fists into the goalposts, the metal frame clanging loudly. He turned and roared at the defense, "Get the hell out of here!"

Barak's neck veins bulged: "Thirty minutes left! Get running!"

He charged toward the center circle like an enraged lion.

Makaay slammed the ball heavily towards the center circle, while Pizarro wiped his face and flicked his sweat onto the grass. Both men's eyes burned with the same rage.

On the sidelines, Hitzfeld roared at the substitutes' bench: "Schweinsteiger! Go warm up! Now!"

His roar even drowned out the cheers of the Monaco fans.

The Monaco players have huddled together.

Morientes excitedly tugged at his jersey collar and roared at the stands.

Even goalkeeper Roma sprinted halfway down the field from his own half to join the celebration.

The fourth official on the sidelines had to remind the Monaco players to get back into their positions as soon as possible, but their cheers still echoed in the Olympic Stadium.

The Bayern Munich stands were deathly silent, except for the Monaco fans in the corner who were jumping wildly.

With the game entering its final 30 minutes, Monaco, leading by two goals, began to slow down the pace.

They passed the ball more cautiously, their formation tightened, and they no longer pressed forward as aggressively as they had in the first half.

Bayern's attacks were repeatedly thwarted near midfield, but the Germans continued their relentless assault on Monaco's defense.

In the 72nd minute, Deschamps substituted Plasil for Pedretti to strengthen the midfield defense.

In the 79th minute, Rothen was substituted by Gallardo, and Monaco further solidified their control of the midfield.

At the same time, Bayern made a key adjustment – ​​Schweinsteiger replaced Ballack.

Bayern's star player walked off the pitch with his head down, his face filled with resentment.

Bayern fans in the stands were still singing "The Star of the South," but Hoeneß and Rummenigge in the VIP boxes had gloomy expressions.

Monaco seemed a bit complacent; their passing was no longer as accurate, and their running was no longer as aggressive.

In the 87th minute, Maicon was dribbling the ball in the backfield, his steps were noticeably heavy, and his breathing was rapid.

Perhaps due to fatigue, or perhaps due to complacency after leading by two goals, he took an extra step – Ze Roberto suddenly pressed forward and successfully intercepted the ball!

Maicon was knocked to the ground and hurriedly got up to chase after him.

Monaco's defense hadn't fully settled in before Bayern's counter-attack had already begun!

Ze Roberto quickly passed the ball to Makaay, the Dutch striker backheeled the ball to Schweinsteiger, who unleashed a powerful shot!

Abidal stretched out his leg to block, but the ball slammed into his ankle and deflected into the net!
1-2! Bayern Munich pulls one back!
Schweinsteiger sprinted to celebrate, but the Bayern players wasted no time and immediately picked up the ball and ran back to the center circle.

Pizarro was panting heavily, sweat dripping from his chin; Makaay was bracing himself on his knees, his chest heaving violently.

The Monaco players looked at each other in bewilderment. Squillaci bent over, holding his knee, clearly suffering from a cramp.

Deschamps erupted in fury on the sidelines, waving his arms and shouting, "Come together! There are still a few minutes left!"

The Bayern fans in the stands were filled with renewed hope, and their chants were deafening.

Deschamps turned abruptly and waved to the players warming up on the sidelines.

"Ribery! Get ready to enter the field!"

The young Ribery quickly ripped off his training vest, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

As he tightened his shoelaces, he looked up at the Bayern Munich fans' stand, a slight smile playing on his lips.

The fourth official raised the substitution board: Number 8 out, Number 27 in.

Giuly dragged his tired steps to the sidelines and high-fived Ribery.

Ribery sprinted onto the pitch like a whirlwind, but Deschamps grabbed his arm and yelled in his ear, "Slow down the tempo! Don't let them get ahead!"

Monaco's players gritted their teeth and persevered, but exhaustion was written on everyone's faces—the game was not over yet, and the suspense had returned!

Roy gritted his teeth and sprinted forward, but his legs felt as heavy as lead.

He yelled at the top of his lungs, "Keep attacking! Score one more!"

The sound seemed somewhat faint in the noisy stadium.

The Monaco players were briefly thrown into disarray.

Plasil raised his arms to signal a retreat, but Bernardi took two steps forward, intending to counterattack.

In that instant of tactical disagreement, Bayern's steel torrent had already swept across the halfway line.

The roar of 70,000 fans at the Olympic Stadium shook the grass, and waves of people surged in the die-hard fan section of the South Stand.

Roy's jersey was already soaked with sweat, yet he still suddenly sprang into action like a cheetah.

In the 89th minute, he made a sliding tackle near the halfway line, forcefully dispossessing Sagnol from his feet.

The Monaco fans in the stands erupted in gasps—

Meanwhile, in the tactics room of Porto club, Mourinho suddenly jumped up from the sofa.

"Caralho! (Fuck!)" He slammed his fist into his palm. "What a fucking tough guy!"

Roy's steps faltered noticeably as he dribbled forward, but he gritted his teeth and protected the ball under the pressure of Schweinsteiger and Demichelis, before passing it to Morientes who had made a run into the box.

The Spanish striker unleashed a powerful shot from near the penalty spot. "Bang!" The ball slammed against the underside of the crossbar and bounced back into play, shaking the entire goal.

A collective sigh of relief erupted from the Bayern Munich fans in the stands, with some even covering their eyes and unable to watch any longer.

Kahn's gaze swept across the entire defensive line like a razor's edge—Sagnol was panting heavily, Kuffour's socks had slipped down to his ankles, and Kovac was retching while holding his knees.

He yanked his gloves off, his roar piercing the wind and snow: "Are you fucking sleepwalking?!"

The fourth official held up the electronic board indicating three minutes of added time.

On Monaco's side, Bernardi collapsed in pain near the sideline with cramps, and the team doctor rushed onto the field.

Deschamps glanced anxiously at the bench—all the substitutions had already been used.

Roy bent over, supporting himself on his knees, panting, sweat dripping onto the grass.

When he looked up, the red numbers 1-2 on the scoreboard were shimmering slightly in the wind and snow, and the sea of ​​red and blue scarves in the stands was churning wildly.

The last chance came in the second minute of stoppage time.

Ribery made a strong run down the right flank and crossed the ball. Roy accelerated past Kovac at the far post and headed the ball towards the goal!
The ball flew in a strange arc toward the far corner, and Kahn's leaping figure, under the spotlight, resembled a lion spreading its wings.
Roy bent over, supporting himself on his knees, sweat dripping down his face.

He wiped his face haphazardly, and as soon as his vision cleared, he saw Kahn launch the ball long into the attacking third.

In the final moments of the match, both sides were exhausted.

Bayern's attack was disorganized and chaotic, while Monaco's defense was equally porous.

The ball came to Makaay's feet in the chaos, and the Dutchman stumbled as he passed it to Pizarro.

The Peruvian striker calmly cut inside from the edge of the penalty area, shaking off the staggering Squillaci!
Facing the onrushing Roma, he deftly slotted the ball into the far corner!
Roma slumped to the ground, barely managing to touch the ball with his fingertips, but couldn't stop it from rolling into the net!

2-2!

The referee blew the final whistle the moment the ball crossed the goal line.

The Olympic Stadium erupted in celebration as Bayern Munich players went wild with their last-minute equalizer!
Pizarro took off his jersey and ran wildly, while Makaay knelt down and roared to the sky.

The Monaco players collapsed to the ground, while Roy stared at the scoreboard, his face ashen.

Squillaci sat in the penalty area, angrily pounding the turf.

Snow water mixed with sweat dripped from his hair, and the final score stung his eyes—the victory that was within his grasp had slipped away at the last moment.

But soon, Ribery skipped past from behind, casually patting Roy on the backside: "Hey! Two away goals!"

He grinned, pointed to the scoreboard, and said, "Let's go home and beat them!"

Roy raised his hand to wipe the snow off his face, but his gaze grew even colder.

He looked toward the sidelines, where Deschamps stood with his hands in his pockets in the technical area, a rare look of gloom on his usually composed face.

The two looked at each other across the distance, and both read the same worry in each other's eyes.

Yes, two away goals are certainly valuable.

But they could have taken a 2-0 or even 3-0 victory from here.

Roy stood on the grass mixed with snowmelt and suddenly realized a cruel fact: they were not tied by Bayern, but by themselves.

With a two-goal lead, Giuly began to instinctively pass the ball back;
With a one-goal lead, Bernardi's passing became conservative;
When Bayern launched a furious counterattack, two opposing voices emerged in Monaco's midfield.

"Press up!"

Roy waved for the ball on the left wing.

"Retreat! Hold the line!"

Plasil shouted at the defense.

This division erupted completely in the last ten minutes.

After Rothen was substituted, Monaco's midfield organization fell apart.

Evra and Maicon, the two full-backs, began to blindly clear the ball with long kicks, and even the usually composed Morientes made a rare mistake in controlling the ball.

The irony is that when Bayern Munich pressed forward, Monaco actually had three excellent counter-attacking opportunities. But each time they advanced into the attacking third, someone would slow down, someone would hesitate to pass, and someone would take an extra step before shooting.

This is not betrayal, nor even cowardice—it is instinct.

When Bayern's desperate counter-attack surge swept through the midfield, most Monaco players' muscle memory only resulted in contractions.

Their pupils dilated, their breathing quickened, and their steps unconsciously shifted backward.

This is not a tactical disagreement, nor a difference in strength, but a clash of two different footballing genes:
On one hand, there's the youthful vigor of a newborn calf;
On one hand, there is the cautiousness of the survival instinct.

Roy's anger was stuck in his throat.

His roar wasn't directed at a particular teammate, but at the soul of the entire team that hadn't yet been transformed.

Those back passes, those hesitations, those shots that should have been fatal but were weak—they were all manifestations of the same ailment:

They still don't believe they deserve the victory.

Looking at the scoreboard, Roy suddenly remembered what Deschamps had said before the match: "The reason why big teams are big teams is not because they never panic, but because even when they panic, they still know how to win."

That's the difference.

Roy watched the Bayern players celebrate wildly, his fists clenching involuntarily.

Those guys were clearly dominated for most of the first half, but in the last three minutes they unleashed a beast-like will to survive.

Pizarro's three off-the-ball runs before equalizing, Demichelis' relentless pressing despite cramping up, and Kahn's ferocious expression as he pounded the post—these details were etched into his mind like knives.

Deschamps walked over and patted him on the shoulder, his voice low: "Let's talk in the locker room."

But Roy had already understood the unspoken message in the coach's eyes.

In the distance, Kahn was gathering the Bayern players into a circle for a pep talk, his roar even piercing through the snow.

Roy suddenly realized: the first lesson of true elite families is to turn the joy of "being honored even though it's a draw" into the shame of "losing a good opportunity".

At the Stade Louis II, they need more than just tactics; they need to learn to bite their prey like a real beast.

(It's not that I didn't want to write a purely enjoyable story, it's just that I needed a catalyst to transform it.)

(End of this chapter)