When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 125 How a Legend is Forged

As the game drew to a close, the young Schweinsteiger clutched his jersey, his eyes searching for Roy's figure in the crowd.

He had barely taken a step when he saw Kahn striding towards Monaco's number 10.

Kahn stood in front of Roy, said nothing, and simply extended his hand.

His eyes were sharp as knives, yet a half-smile played on his lips.

It must be a bitter pill to swallow for this world-class goalkeeper to swallow a 19-year-old in two consecutive matches.

Roy paused for a moment, then understood what Kahn meant.

The two silently took off their jerseys, and as they exchanged them, Kahn gave Roy a firm squeeze on the shoulder.

Standing not far away, Schweinsteiger pursed his lips, slung his jersey over his shoulder, and turned to exchange jerseys with other Monaco players.

Press conference room at the Munich Olympic Stadium.

Hitzfeld and Kahn walked into the press conference room one after the other, and the flashbulbs immediately went off.

The Bayern Munich coach was wearing a dark suit with his tie slightly loosened, and his face showed little emotion.

Kahn was still wearing the goalkeeper trousers he wore during the match, with a Bayern training jacket over his shirt. His blond hair was slightly messy, and his brows still showed the tension he had felt during the match.

The two sat down behind a long table, with several bottles of mineral water, a microphone, and a recorder in front of them.

After a brief opening statement from the press officer, reporters immediately raised their hands to ask questions.

The Kicker reporter was the first to stand up: "Mr. Hitzfeld, how would you rate tonight's game?"

With his hands clasped on the table, Hitzfeld's voice was low and steady: "I have to admit, it was a very tough match. Monaco is one of the most potent attacking teams in the Champions League this season, and they caused us a lot of trouble for the first 60 minutes, no, for the 90 minutes. But our team also showed great fighting spirit, and the final equalizer was a fair result."

Bild reporter: "What adjustments did you make at halftime when you were down by two goals?"

Hitzfeld: "We emphasized defensive compactness and asked the midfielders to better protect the defensive line. At the same time, I told the players to be patient and have faith in their abilities. A football match lasts 90 minutes, and anything can happen at any time."

Süddeutsche Zeitung reporter: "How would you rate Monaco's number 10, Roy's performance?"

Hitzfeld: "He is a very good young player. It is impressive to have such a performance in the Champions League knockout stage at the age of 19. His technique, awareness and composure are far beyond his peers. We need to mark him more closely in the second leg."

Munich Evening News reporter: "Kahn, what does the last-minute equalizer mean for the team?"

Kahn: "This shows Bayern's never-give-up spirit. In the Champions League, you can't give up any chance until the final whistle. This goal gives us a lot of confidence for the second leg."

A reporter from Gazzetta dello Sport asked: "What are your thoughts on Monaco's two away goals?"

Hitzfeld: "This definitely makes the second leg more difficult. But we are capable of scoring away from home, and the important thing is to do our defensive work well."

Kahn added, "The goals at the Stade Louis II are as big as the Stade Olimpico."

Marca reporter: "How is Ballack's injury?"

Hitzfeld: "The team doctor's initial examination showed it was a superficial injury, but we will have to wait for the results of a more detailed examination. His fighting spirit has set an example for the whole team."

A reporter from Corriere dello Sport asked: "Kahn, what is your assessment of Monaco's attacking line?"

Kahn: "They are very fast and have excellent teamwork. The combination of Morientes and Roy, in particular, is very threatening. But our defense is experienced and we will be ready for the second leg."

Tuttosport reporter: "Schweinsteiger, who came on as a substitute in the final moments, performed brilliantly. Was this a planned adjustment?"

Hitzfeld: "Yes, we had a substitution plan in place a long time ago. Bastian is in great form in training, and he has proven that he can make a difference in crucial moments."

Then, Monaco held their post-match press conference.

The two sat down behind the long table. Deschamps gently adjusted the water bottle in front of him, while Giulie rubbed his face, trying to look more alert.

Reporters' eyes were all on them, and flashes of light went off from time to time, illuminating their slightly tired faces.

L'Équipe reporter: "Coach Deschamps, please comment on the team's performance."

Deschamps: "We played very well in the first 60 minutes and took a two-goal lead. But we couldn't hold on to that advantage until the end, which shows that there are still many areas where the team needs to improve."

France Football reporter: "After taking a two-goal lead and being tied, where do you think the problem lies?"

Deschamps: "The main problem was a lack of sustained focus. Against a strong team like Bayern, you have to stay highly focused for 90 minutes. We relaxed a bit after taking the lead, which gave our opponents opportunities."

A reporter from Le Parisien asked: "What do two away goals mean for the second leg?"

Deschamps: "It's certainly a positive result, but we're not thinking about that right now. The team's goal is always to win, and we'll give it our all in the second leg."

The Guardian reporter: "Giuly, as captain, what are your thoughts on this draw?"

Giuly: "It's a pity we couldn't win, but the team showed competitiveness. Bayern is a top team in Europe, and scoring two goals away from home proves our strength."

BBC reporter: "How would you rate Roy's performance?"

Deschamps: "He played a great game, and that goal was brilliant. But more importantly, it was his overall performance; he contributed on both ends of the pitch."

Sky Sports reporter: "Maicon struggled against Ze Roberto. Will this affect the second leg?"

Deschamps: "Every player goes through moments like this; it's part of growing up. Maicon is young and very talented, and he will learn from this experience."

Eurosport reporter: "What are your expectations for the second leg?"

Giuly straightened his back: "Playing at home is a significant advantage for us. The fans at the Stade Louis II have always been our strongest support, and their support will give us extra motivation. We will definitely give it our all and repay their trust with our best performance."

He paused briefly before continuing, "Although Bayern is a strong opponent, we are full of confidence in our own strength. The team will be fully prepared and strive to play a wonderful game at home."

The changing room was filled with the mixed smell of shower gel and medicine.

Roy was shirtless, his back against the locker, with intense rock music faintly coming from his headphones.

He closed his eyes and tapped his knees gently in rhythm with his fingers.

Ribery's hearty laughter came from a corner; he and several young players were excitedly discussing the game.

Two away goals! That's fantastic!

Ribery patted his teammate on the shoulder, his face beaming with excitement.

Maicon sat alone on the bench, mechanically tidying up his personal belongings.

His socks were still covered in grass clippings, and his eyes were somewhat glazed over.

Ze Roberto's cunning changes of direction and feints were still replaying in his mind.

Caniggia leaned against the door, arms crossed, her gaze sweeping over everyone in the locker room.

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

The other players packed up their equipment in twos and threes.

Someone muttered quietly, "Bayern's final attack was like a tidal wave."

His voice trembled with lingering fear.

Roy suddenly took off his headphones, and the voices in the locker room immediately quieted down.

Morientes had already changed into casual clothes and was stuffing his discarded jersey into his backpack.

The two exchanged a glance, each understanding something from the other's eyes.

He glanced at Roy, a slight smile playing on his lips: "That's how the Champions League is."

Morientes stood up and looked around at his teammates in the locker room: "Bayern are tough to beat, they've always been tough, especially at their home ground."

He paused for a moment, then said, "I think it's okay for me to use Real Madrid as an example, right?"

"You know, those of us who came from Real Madrid know Bayern very well. Back in '76, Bayern beat us Real Madrid 2-0 at home, with the legendary striker Gerd Müller scoring two goals. From then on, Real Madrid's nightmare in Munich began. We met again in '87, and Bayern thrashed them 4-1, with Matthäus scoring two goals."

"The 3-2 match in '88 was quite interesting. Although Real Madrid lost away, Butragueño and Sanchez scored two goals in the last five minutes, and Real Madrid came back to win 2-0 at home. This was the first time Real Madrid had eliminated Bayern in the knockout stage."

Morientes leaned against the locker, his eyes somewhat dazed: "Back in the 99-00 season, although we eventually won the trophy, we still didn't get the upper hand in Munich. We lost 1-4 in the group stage, which was pretty bad, and then 1-2 in the knockout stage. If it weren't for Anelka's precious away goal, we might not have made it through with an aggregate score of 3-2."

He shook his head with a wry smile: "Then Bayern came for revenge the following year. I still remember that they beat us 1-0 at the Bernabéu and then beat us 2-1 at home. I still remember the boos from the Bayern fans in the stands when I was substituted off in that game."

“The 02 one was even more interesting,” Morientes stroked his chin. “We went crazy when Geremi scored; it was the first time Real Madrid had ever taken the lead in Munich. But we still lost 1-2 in the end, and we might have lost even worse if Effenberg hadn’t missed the penalty. However,” he shrugged, “we did advance in that series.”

At this point, Morientes' voice lowered: "I've experienced all of these matches firsthand. Bayern Munich is a tough nut to crack."

The name Real Madrid is very convincing in itself; everyone understands what it means.

Rothen suddenly grinned: "So, Real Madrid has lost all six of their last six matches here in the past thirty years, while we've managed a draw."

He deliberately dragged out his words, "Isn't that equivalent to beating Real Madrid?"

Morientes turned his head sharply, his eyes wide, with an expression that said, "You've got some nerve, kid."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he could only shake his head helplessly.

Caniggia slowly stood up, a gentle smile on his lips: "I've never played in the Champions League."

He paused, glancing around at his teammates in the locker room, "But can I say a few words?"

The locker room fell silent instantly, even the players who were tidying up their shoes stopped what they were doing.

Everyone looked at this Argentine legend who had experienced countless battles.

"In my more than 20-year career, the only time I can truly relax is when I lift the trophy. At any other time, I cannot relax even for a moment."

"If you stand on the sidelines watching someone else lift the trophy, that feeling will haunt you like a shadow. Every night afterward, you'll toss and turn, thinking, 'If only I had run one more step,' 'If only I had been more focused.'"

He picked up a bottle of water and slowly unscrewed it: "I've seen too many geniuses who think opportunities will always be there. But believe me, the truly decisive opportunities in a career often come only once or twice."

“You played very well today. This Monaco team is no worse than Bayern Munich. But you have to understand that after May, this team may never be able to be complete again. Some people will go to big clubs and will have more opportunities in the future. But some people may go to mid-table teams, and no matter how hard they try in the future, they may not even be able to play in the Champions League.”

"Like me, before coming to Monaco, I had never played a single Champions League match. I came here just to be able to stand on the Champions League stage."

Caniggia's gaze fell on Roy, his voice low: "Too many people will never have the chance to touch this championship trophy in their lives. I know many people say Diego is an idiot, but that idiot never knows what giving up means on the field."

"No one in the world dares to say they are better than Diego, yet even he has never even reached the Champions League final. You are now much closer to that dream than he was."

Looking at the smile on Roy's face, Kanigia asked softly, "Any of you still have something to say?"

Roy casually scratched his head, a relaxed smile on his lips: "I'll just say one thing. The safest score is always the next goal."

His smile vanished, his eyes suddenly sharpening: "We played better than Bayern today, but why did we get tied? Because they were more like beasts than us. I'm just wondering, why did we suddenly become vegetarians today?"

A few soft laughs rang out in the locker room, but quickly fell silent.

"Scoring a goal is like eating meat; once you swallow it, it loses its flavor. The best part is always the next bite. So, there's not much to say. In the next match, we'll go head-to-head with Bayern until we tear them apart—let them come back next year."

Deschamps pushed open the door and entered, abruptly ending the laughter and conversation in the locker room.

He walked slowly to the center of the dressing room, casually draped his suit jacket over the back of a chair, and then nodded slightly to Roy.

This simple gesture made it clear to everyone that the coach fully supported what Roy was saying.

Roy nodded knowingly, his gaze sweeping over each of his teammates.

Deschamps stood to the side with his arms crossed, his eyes resolute.

At this moment, the tacit understanding between the mentor and his student was self-evident: what followed was the attitude of the entire Monaco team.

Roy's voice rose: "Do you know what's most ridiculous? Bayern players told me after the game, 'You guys played really well,' which sounds like they're trying to comfort a weak team! To hell with 'playing well,' we want to win!"

He walked up to each person, staring into their eyes: "Fernando, you played for Real Madrid. Tell me, what were you thinking when you put on that white jersey? What's the difference between a championship team and a 'good team'?"

Morientes looked up: "The championship team knows how to kill the game."

"That's right!" Roy clapped his hands. "We're not here to play pretty football, we're here to win! Pretty football is just a means to an end, not the goal!"

"Why should we be afraid of making mistakes? The only mistake we shouldn't make is being afraid to make mistakes! At least Plasil dares to ask for the ball and dares to organize the attack, which is a hundred times better than fucking passing the ball around in the back!"

Plasil slowly raised his head, his eyes still filled with self-reproach. "Maicon, do you know why Ze Roberto was able to outmaneuver you? It's not because his skills are better than yours, but because he's more ruthless!"

The young Brazilian player's chest heaved violently, veins bulging on his dark skin: "Next time we meet, I'll make that old guy cry himself to retirement!"

He said through gritted teeth, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

"I know what you're thinking. Why do teams like Bayern Munich and Real Madrid always win? Let me tell you why."

"Brothers," his voice wasn't loud, but every word pierced the players' ears like nails, "Do you know why teams like Bayern Munich and Real Madrid are called powerhouses?"

"It's not because their stadium is big, nor because they pay their players high salaries. It's because every player wears that jersey with an unwavering belief in victory ingrained in their very being."

"They didn't 'hope' to win, they 'knew' they would win! Down 0-2? No problem, they'd score three in the end anyway. Because they flipped through the club's history books, and every page recorded the miraculous comebacks accomplished by their predecessors. Someone did it in 1956, someone did it in 1972, and someone did it again in 1999."

“Every star on their jerseys is the result of countless predecessors fighting with this belief. When all 11 players on the team firmly believe that they can turn the tide, miracles become commonplace. Every old photo hanging in their locker room is silently telling the current players: You can do it, because others have done it countless times.”

"Why were Bayern able to equalize at the last minute? Because two words are etched in their bones—greed! Greed for victory! And what about us? We actually started calculating gains and losses after taking a 2-0 lead!"

"Look at us. We're still in the 'want to win' stage, 'want' to reach the quarterfinals, and 'hope' to make history. That's the difference! It's not about technique or tactics, but about the confidence in our bones!"

Roy's voice suddenly calmed, but carried an even more terrifying sense of oppression: "Listen, guys. Next round at the Stade Louis II, I want to be with you, like 11 hungry wolves. I want to tear apart Bayern's defense like prey. I want to see the purest desire for victory burning in our eyes."

"Brothers, we will remember how we felt today. We will remember the humiliation of being tied. We will remember the wild smiles on the faces of the Bayern players as they celebrated. And then—"

He paused for a moment: "Two weeks from now, we will repay you tenfold."

The locker room was completely silent; everyone held their breath.

Roy slowly raised his right hand, clenching it into a fist: "Who's coming with us to take down Bayern?"

The next second, a deafening roar erupted from the locker room.

"Kill them!"

Deschamps took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping sharply across the locker room:
"My final words: Beckenbauer is sitting in the stands today, dressed in a sharp suit, looking down on the game like a king. But do you know what? When Franz Beckenbauer first wore the Bayern Munich jersey in 1964, this team wasn't even in the Bundesliga! They were playing in the Regionalliga Süd and didn't even have a decent stadium."

"Back then, Bayern Munich was just like us today—with nothing but dreams. It was people like Beckenbauer and Gerd Müller who, with victory after victory, infused this jersey with soul."

"Now, it's our turn to write Monaco's history. Twenty years from now, when our children are sitting in the stands at the Stade Louis II, they'll point to the players on the field and say, 'Look, that's the team that created the legend!'"

"Go forth and let people witness firsthand how a new legend is born!"

The pool lights cast shimmering spots of light on the water's surface. Roy folded a towel into a pillow and placed it behind his head, floating on the water.

Did you see the news about Real Madrid's match today?

Giuly swam over, splashing water onto Evra's face.

Evra wiped his face: "The one in Moscow? That 2-1 loss was really ugly."

He mimicked Carlos's slip and nearly bumped into Rothen by the pool.

Rothen helped him up and laughed, "Beckham ran almost 13 kilometers, and his blond hair is all frozen."

"If you ask me, the match should be canceled in this kind of weather."

“Raul Bravo’s own goal was hilarious,” Roy rolled over. “The ball hit his back and changed direction, and Casillas didn’t even have time to react.”

Giuly suddenly lowered his voice: "I heard that Florentino flew straight back to Madrid after watching the game, without even going into the locker room."

If you ask me...

Just as Evra opened his mouth, the phone in the waterproof bag suddenly rang.

With lightning speed, Juli grabbed her and yelled, "Which sexy and hot German girl is it?"

Roy swam over and snatched it back; Trezeguet's name appeared on the screen.

"You guessed it, it's the sexy and hot David Trezeguet."

“Shh,” Roy put a finger to his lips, “let’s hear what Juventus’s big star has to say.”

"After watching your match against Bayern," Trezeguet's voice came through, "you wasted too many chances, didn't you?"

Roy retorted with a laugh: "You guys are playing Deportivo at Riazor Stadium tomorrow, watch out."

Trezeguet's laughter came from the other end of the phone, and Thuram interjected, "You guys can beat Deportivo 9-3, but we Juventus won easily, right? You're looking down on us?"

In the first leg of the Champions League Round of 16, Arsenal defeated Celta Vigo 4-2 away from home. Edu scored twice, Pires scored the crucial goal, and Henry assisted Nonda in the final moments to seal the victory. Celta Vigo fought back twice to equalize, but Arsenal's more efficient attack prevailed. The match was fiercely contested, with Celta Vigo dominating possession but their defense riddled with errors. The Gunners return home with a two-goal lead, their prospects for advancing looking bright.

In the first leg of the Champions League Round of 16, defending champions AC Milan played to a 0-0 draw away to Sparta Prague. Milan dominated the game, with Shevchenko and Inzaghi missing several chances, while Sparta Prague goalkeeper Blazek delivered a superb performance. In the second half, Glusevich scored a goal, but it was ruled offside. Despite controlling possession, Milan couldn't break the deadlock and ultimately settled for a draw. The Czech team maintained their clean sheet record against Milan, keeping the second leg in suspense.

2 month 25 day.

In the first leg of the Champions League Round of 16, Deportivo La Coruña defeated Juventus 1-0 at home. Luque capitalized on a clearance error by Thuram in the 39th minute, volleying the winning goal. Juventus struggled throughout the match, with Del Piero missing a one-on-one opportunity, and Miccoli, coming on as a substitute, also squandering a golden chance. Deportivo regained their home form, completely shaking off the shadow of their 9-3 group stage defeat to Monaco. Lippi admitted the team's poor performance but remained confident they could overturn the deficit in the second leg and advance. This match continued the close nature of their previous Champions League encounters, with each side winning once and drawing four of their previous six meetings.

In the first leg of the Champions League Round of 16, Chelsea narrowly defeated Stuttgart 1-0 away from home. In the 12th minute, Glen Johansson's cross from the right wing resulted in an own goal by Meira, the only goal of the match. Stuttgart dominated the game, with Mesner threatening three shots early on, but Kuranyi's header was cleared off the line by Bridge. Chelsea abandoned their usual fast breaks and opted for counter-attacking football, with Gudjohnsen missing a one-on-one opportunity. In the second half, Stuttgart's relentless attacks failed to produce results, with Lahm and Tiffert creating numerous threats, but Cudicini made several crucial saves to keep a clean sheet. Chelsea returned to Stamford Bridge with a valuable away victory, but Stuttgart's 21 shots throughout the match suggested that the second leg would still be a close contest.

Porto's new stadium looked like an iron cage in the cold wind, and Manchester United's red jerseys stood out starkly against the green pitch.

From the start of the match, Mourinho's team was like a pack of hungry wolves, tearing Manchester United's rhythm apart with their frantic running and fierce pressing.

Deco roamed the midfield like a ghost, every touch of the ball carrying a deadly intent.

Scholes and Keane tried to control the tempo, but Porto's midfield trio (Mendes, Maniche, and Alenichev) were like three moving walls, and every time Manchester United tried to advance, they were cut off by physical confrontation and tactical fouls.

Giggs tried to break through on the left wing several times, but Paulo Ferreira stuck to him like a shadow, giving him no chance to catch his breath.

Ronaldinho was the only bright spot for Manchester United, maneuvering skillfully in the attacking midfield position, using his heels, lobbed passes, and changes of direction to try and break down Porto's defense.

But every time he gets the ball, two or three Porto players immediately surround him, either by sliding tackle or by physically pressing him, making it impossible for him to comfortably organize an attack.

The game was fragmented, and Ferguson stood on the sidelines, his face as gloomy as the sky before a storm.

Before the match, Ferguson expressed his disdain for the Portuguese league leaders: "It's as easy for us to get 3 points here as it is to buy a bottle of milk."

However, his stretched roster and leaky defense did not live up to his expectations.

With key center-back Ferdinand suspended and Silvestre injured, Sir Alex Ferguson continued to use Brown, who made mistakes in the last game, and the slender Gary Neville was temporarily moved to the center.

Scholes will play as a right winger.

In the 14th minute, Manchester United took the lead unexpectedly.

Scholes' long-range shot was saved by Baía, but Ronaldo reacted quickly on the rebound and scored.

The 18-year-old excitedly rushed towards the corner flag to celebrate, but Van Nistelrooy stood still, a hint of displeasure in his eyes.

Just minutes earlier, Ronaldo had wasted a golden opportunity by taking a wild shot after receiving the ball on the right wing.

Porto remained calm. They operated like a perfectly functioning machine, continuing to execute Mourinho's tactics.

Give up possession, compress space, and then strike decisively.

In the 27th minute, Deco played a through ball from midfield, and McCarthy, like a cheetah, burst out from between Brown and Neville, volleying the ball into the net! 1-1!

The Estádio do Dragão erupted instantly, and Manchester United's defense froze in place as if struck by lightning.

In the 52nd minute, Porto's counter-attack succeeded again.

Baía launched a long ball, Carvalho headed it on, and McCarthy outjumped Gary Neville to smash a powerful header into the net! 2-1!

Manchester United's defense was completely breached, and Ferguson's face was as black as charcoal.

In stoppage time, Manchester United pressed forward in an attempt to salvage the game.

With the game in its final moments, Manchester United pressed forward with all their players.

Cristiano Ronaldo received a pass on the edge of the penalty area. Van Nistelrooy had already made his way into space in the middle. The Dutchman raised his arms high, almost shouting for the ball.

But the young Ronaldo only had the goal in his eyes. He twisted his right foot, trying to force his way through.

Van Nistelrooy immediately spread his hands and roared at the Portuguese: "Pass it! You fucking pass it!"

In the blink of an eye, Porto's defenders had closed in.

Ferreira and Maniche sandwiched Ronaldo like two walls, and Ronaldo barely managed to protect the ball. He staggered under their pressure and was eventually knocked down near the penalty area line.

Van Nistelrooy was so angry he stomped his feet and yelled at the referee, "Penalty! It's definitely a penalty!"

The referee ran over, checked the position, and firmly pointed outside the penalty area—a free kick. Porto's players quickly formed a wall, with Carvalho even secretly taking a small step forward.

Manchester United's last chance rested on this set piece. The air in the Estádio do Dragão seemed to freeze, and the Porto fans in the stands held their breath, watching the edge of the penalty area with bated breath.

Mourinho stood on the sidelines, his arms crossed over his chest, staring intently at the ball on the field.

His expression was unusually serious, with his brows furrowed and his lips pressed into a straight line.

Throughout the match, his team almost completely suppressed Manchester United with their tight defense and sharp counter-attacks. As long as they can defend against this final blow, Porto will enter the second leg with both tactical and psychological advantages.

The Porto players quickly formed a tight wall, with Carvalho and Costa constantly adjusting their positions.

Mourinho's eyes scanned back and forth between the ball and the wall of players. He knew all too well how dangerous a free kick from that position was—about 13 yards from the goal, which was the preferred shooting range for top players.

"Concentrate! Concentrate!"

Mourinho roared from the sidelines, his voice echoing throughout the stadium.

His team was just seconds away from making history, and he absolutely could not let Manchester United rise from the ashes here.

On Porto's bench, all the players stood up, nervously clutching each other's jerseys.

At this moment, Mourinho's meticulously crafted iron defense will face its most severe test.

With the final minute of stoppage time approaching, the entire Estádio do Dragão stadium held its breath.

Ronaldinho stood in front of the ball, his signature buck teeth slightly showing, but his face was unusually serious.

He took a few steps back, took a deep breath, and stared intently at the upper right corner of the goal.

Porto's defensive wall pounded nervously, and goalkeeper Baía loudly directed the defensive positioning, but Ronaldinho seemed oblivious to it all.

Run-up, kick! The ball traces a strange arc after leaving the ground, first veering to the right to bypass the wall of players, then suddenly changing direction in the air and plummeting downwards.

Despite Baja's all-out dive, the ball seemed to be under a spell, precisely nestling into the top right corner of the goal!

2-2!

Manchester United players celebrated wildly, while Porto players stood frozen in place.

Mourinho punched the net on the sidelines, his carefully laid-out defense crumbling at the last moment.

Surrounded by his teammates, Ronaldinho finally broke into his signature smile. At the most crucial moment, the Brazilian magician used his most powerful magic to save Manchester United.

The referee then blew the final whistle, ending the thrilling match in a draw.

But everyone knows that this goal not only changed the score, but could also change the course of the entire series.

Manchester United secured a 2-2 draw at the Estádio do Dragão, a scoreline that held hidden dangers for both sides.

Mourinho stood on the sidelines, his face so dark it seemed to drip water. His team had dominated the entire game, but had fallen short at the last moment.

These two away goals were like two sharp knives pressed against Porto's throat.

Manchester United's two away goals pushed Porto to the brink, forcing them to take the initiative in the second leg. This proved to be a trap set by Manchester United, who are adept at counter-attacking, and left the Portuguese powerhouse still haunted by the psychological shadow of Ronaldinho's last-minute equalizer.

Mourinho chewed his gum hard, knowing that the upcoming match at Old Trafford would be a hellish ordeal.

Manchester United fans will drown out the away team with a deafening roar of cheers, while Ferguson, that old fox, will surely be wearing a sly smile in the locker room.

As the Porto players headed toward the tunnel, Deco and Maniche were still arguing fiercely about the late goal conceded. What should have been a perfect tactical night ended up with a bleeding wound.

(End of this chapter)