When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 129 The Temple of Football and the Gates of Hell

After conceding the goal, Bayern players, like a swarm of enraged wasps, immediately launched a furious counterattack.

Kahn, with a grim face, retrieved the ball from the net and, without even taking a run-up, swung his long kick and slammed the ball toward the center circle.

The ball flew high and far, slamming heavily onto the center circle line and bouncing high into the air.

During a scramble for the ball, Demichelis elbowed Rothen in the chest, causing the Frenchman to bend over in pain and cough.

The referee hesitated for a moment and simply gave the Argentinians a warning.

This decision caused an uproar on the Monaco bench, with the assistant coach practically grabbing the fourth official's shirt to argue with him.

Monaco's midfield got bogged down immediately after the kickoff.

Just as Pedretti received the pass back, Ballack came crashing down like a tank, the German's cleats tearing up a patch of grass.

The French defensive midfielder hastily passed the ball to the wing, but before Evra could control it, Hargreaves and Sagnol had already closed in, and this time the two-on-one defense managed to intercept the ball.

Crimson smoke suddenly rose from the stands.

A thousand Bayern Munich die-hards lit fireworks, creating a human wave amidst the billowing smoke.

They roared the Bavarian battle song, their voices pounding down on Monaco's defense like hammer blows: "Auf geht's Bayern! Schiet ein Tor!" (Bayern, forward! Score one!)

Hitzfeld spotted a weakness in Monaco's defense from the sidelines – Squillaci.

This tall French defender turned as slowly as an old truck.

Bayern's attack began to specifically target him:

Bayern's attacks began to consciously penetrate behind him:
In the 31st minute, Ze Roberto suddenly made a run from behind Squillaci, but fortunately Abidal covered in time;
In the 33rd minute, Makaay dropped back to receive the ball, turned, and played a through ball behind Squillaci, almost creating a one-on-one opportunity for Pizarro;

In the 35th minute, even left-back Lizarazu pushed forward and delivered a cross from the area defended by Squillaci. Roma parried the ball but fumbled it, causing a scramble in front of the goal.
Deschamps was jumping up and down in frustration on the sidelines. He shouted at Squillaci, but his words were drowned out by the cheers of the Bayern fans.

Monaco's penalty area is like a small boat in a storm; every clearance creates an even bigger wave.

Roy had to drop back to the edge of the penalty area to participate in the defense. A close-up of him bending over, supporting his knees and panting, made Du Chen in the stands clench his scarf tightly.

The broadcast camera pointed meaningfully at the scoreboard: 3-2 (final score).

The scarlet number loomed in and out of view in the smoke, like a dripping blood blade.

This is the most dangerous moment. There's an unwritten rule on the football field: the team that has just scored is most likely to concede a goal.

Bayern's counterattack came quickly and fiercely.

Every attack they launched was like a hammer blow to Monaco's defense, and their possession soared from 45% to 68% in just ten minutes.

Monaco's midfield was completely disorganized, and their passing accuracy plummeted.

The scene was exactly the same as the match in Munich two weeks ago.

Roy ran around the field like a madman.

He kept a close eye on every Bayern player with the ball, and would pounce on them as soon as they got the ball.

When Ballack was in possession of the ball in midfield, Roy made a vicious tackle and brought the German to the ground.

The referee blew the whistle for a foul, but Roy didn't care. He quickly passed the ball to Bernardi and yelled at his teammates, "Don't give the Germans a chance! Finish them off in the first half!"

His jersey was soaked with sweat, and his face was covered in grass clippings.

But Roy's eyes burned with a fierce light as he clapped his hands, encouraging his teammates: "Push forward! Push forward again!"

The Bayern fans in the stands sang even louder, their cheers rising in waves.

But Monaco fans were not to be outdone; one bald man even took off his shirt and waved a Monaco scarf in the cold wind.

Deschamps on the sidelines had already taken off his suit jacket, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

He kept making forward-pressing gestures, urging the team to continue their attack.

On the other side, Hitzfeld was assigning tasks to the substitute players, and several Bayern substitutes were running back and forth to warm up in front of the bench.

Schweinsteiger, Santa Cruz, Salihamidzic, Link.
When the fourth official raised the sign indicating two minutes of added time, Squillaci blocked Ze Roberto's cross with his chest.

The ball slammed into him, but he still managed to poke it to Maicon.

The Brazilian player dribbled forward quickly, and Monaco launched another counter-attack.

The last attacking opportunity of the first half has arrived.

Maicon delivered a low diagonal pass from the right wing to Bernardi in midfield.

Bernardi made no adjustments and passed the ball directly to Roy, who had dropped back to receive it.

Roy received the ball with his back to goal, and Demichelis immediately closed in.

Monaco's number 10 shoulder dipped, and suddenly passed the ball to the onrushing Pedretti, then turned and charged forward.

Pedretti's through ball was as precise as a scalpel, cutting directly through the gap between Hargreaves and Ballack!
Hargreaves stretched out his leg to intercept, but was a beat too slow. He lost his balance, staggered, and knelt on one knee, his blond hair flying onto his face.
Ballack froze on the spot as if struck by lightning. When he turned around, his shoes slipped on the grass, and he almost did a split. His face was full of astonishment.

The two men exchanged a flustered glance, then turned to look at the ball that had already pierced the defense—Roy was charging toward the landing point like a cheetah!

Roy gets the ball again!

Kufur and Sagnol pounced at the same time.

Roy gently flicked the ball with the outside of his right foot, sending it rolling along the grass to the right, just avoiding Kuffour's full-force sliding tackle with his cleats.

Sagnol immediately covered, the French full-back lowering his center of gravity and spreading his right arm to block Roy's path.

Roy suddenly flicked his left foot, and the ball came to an abrupt stop and changed direction.

Sagnol twisted his knee sharply, and his ankle cracked.

Chaos erupted inside the penalty area as Kahn roared as he charged out.

Roy was like a trapped beast surrounded by three men.

However, he kept the ball within half a meter. When Kahn rushed to within two meters of him, Roy suddenly changed his right foot from a shot to a gentle push.

The ball passed between Kovac's legs, rolling along the grass towards the far post, where Giuly arrived just in time.

With a nimble movement, Lizarazu came to an abrupt stop and slid off the plane.

After adjusting his position, Giuly swung his right foot from the corner of the six-yard box.

"boom!"

The ball slammed into the inside of the near post like a cannonball and crashed into the net!

Kahn's glove grazed the ball, but it didn't change its trajectory.

The entire attack, which started from the backfield and culminated in a goal, took only four passes.

The Stade Louis II exploded instantly!

"Ahhh—Goal!!!" Commentator Thierry Rolland's voice cracked as he shouted, "Monaco! Monaco! This is a work of art! From the backfield to the front, it's so fluid!"

"Look at the expressions on the Bayern players' faces! Kahn is kneeling on the ground, he can't believe it! Lizarazu is slumped in the penalty area, he's been completely fooled!"

"This is football! This is the Champions League!" Roland's voice trembled. "This young Monaco team is making history! Deschamps is running wildly on the sidelines, he's like a twenty-year-old! They haven't lost a single game so far, and it will be even more difficult for the Germans to achieve this goal at the Stade Louis II!"

"Listen! The Stade Louis II is shaking!" The commentator had to raise his voice to drown out the roar from the crowd. "The fans are singing, crying, and embracing! This goal, this perfect goal, will forever be etched in Champions League history!"

"4-2! 4-2 on aggregate!" Roland shouted with all his might, "Bayern Munich, the German giants, have been utterly crushed by Monaco's youthful storm! Ladies and gentlemen, we are witnessing the birth of a miracle!"

Giuly sprinted all the way to the corner flag, his knees slamming heavily into the grass, leaving three deep marks.

Roy broke free from the crowd, jumped onto Giuly's back, wrapped his arms tightly around his neck, and shouted something in his ear.

Morientes rushed over, his thick arms wrapping around the necks of the two men, bringing their faces almost touching.

Other Monaco players surged forward like a tide, with Evra sliding to his knees to join the celebration, Maicon diving directly onto the top of the crowd, and all the substitutes rushing onto the field, even goalkeeper Roma sprinting from the backfield.

The camera pans to Bayern's half:

Kahn knelt on the goal line, his gloves deeply embedded in the net;
Ballack stood there, his eyes vacant, as if he were seeing the regrets of his time at Leverkusen again;

Lizarazu slumped in the penalty area, his socks slipping down to his ankles.

On the sidelines, in the Bayern Munich management seats, Hoeness and Rummenigge looked grim.

The difference in Champions League prize money between the Round of 16 and the quarterfinals is in the tens of millions, and commercial revenue has also shrunk significantly due to the early exit from the top European stage, resulting in a simultaneous setback in the value of sponsor rights and matchday revenue.

Behind them, representatives of the sponsors whispered among themselves; Adidas's technical director shook his head repeatedly; Allianz's business representative was rapidly sending text messages; and Audi's marketing director simply got up and temporarily left his seat.

As Bayern Munich's main sponsor, he had already calculated the costs and benefits: for every round of the Champions League played, Audi's global exposure would increase by 120 million people. Now, Bayern's Champions League journey has come to an abrupt end in the round of 16—meaning a loss of at least three rounds of brand exposure worth 36 million euros.

These well-dressed men knew that being eliminated in the Champions League Round of 16 meant a direct revenue loss of at least 20 million euros; their bargaining power in negotiations with Emirates for the team's jersey sponsorship was greatly reduced; not to mention the hidden benefits that came with increased team exposure.

The broadcast camera meaningfully framed two scenes simultaneously: on one hand, Monaco player Dieirohan's ecstatic celebration, and on the other hand, Bayern Munich's coach and players standing there in despair.

The dividing line in the middle intersects exactly below the 4-2 overall scoreboard.

Two weeks ago at the Olympic Stadium, they were able to use snow and home advantage to force Monaco to a hard-fought draw.

But today in Monaco, where the weather was fine, when the opponent scored two goals in quick succession, everyone had the same question in their minds: Can we really come back?

Kahn slammed his fist against the wall in the players' tunnel.

To turn the tide, they need to score three more goals, and they also need to hope that Monaco doesn't score again.

Those two damn away goals were like two knives pressed against Bayern's throat.

As Makaay walked through the players' tunnel, a German reporter shouted, "Is there still a chance?" The Dutch striker simply quickened his pace, leaving the question behind.

The locker room was eerily quiet.

Ballack stared at his shoes covered in grass clippings and suddenly remembered the sign Monaco fans had held up during the pre-match warm-up: "Welcome to hell, you don't know what a devil is."

Now he finally understands how cruel the home and away goals rule is.

They weren't just behind by two goals, they were behind by two whole worlds.

Deschamps' voice cleaved the deathly silence of the locker room like a razor's edge:

“看看这个比分？4-2？不，现在是0-0！你们每个人，都给我记住这个数字：0！”

His gaze swept over each player's sweaty face:

"Forget how many goals Monaco scored, forget how many Bayern need. From now on, you are a 0-0 team, trailing every minute."

The air in the locker room seemed to freeze.

"Every touch of the ball must be like a final strike, every run must be like a race against time. 90 minutes? No, you only have now! Goal! Goal! And more goals!"

His roar echoed in the cramped space, and the players' breathing grew heavier.

Bayern made the first changes to their lineup, replacing Ballack with Deisler, Hargreaves with Schweinsteiger, and Pizarro with Salihamidzic.

Monaco were not to be outdone, with Rothen being replaced by Marcelo Gallardo, and Ribery replacing Giuly in the 76th minute.

In the 84th minute, Monaco capitalized on Bayern's counter-attack error once again.

Squillaci twisted his ankle and fell to the ground, but still gritted his teeth and cleared the ball.

Givet was already warming up on the sidelines, but Monaco's counter-attack had already begun.

After a one-two pass between Ribery and Gallardo, Ribery made a high-speed run down the right flank!
After passing the ball across to Roy, Roy shielded the ball with his back to the goal, then suddenly shifted to the right, and Ribery regained possession!
Kahn quickly dived to block, but Ribery skillfully dribbled past two defenders on the right side of the penalty area. Just when everyone thought he was going to cross, he suddenly flicked his leg and unleashed a powerful, half-high shot that soared into the sky!

The ball shot straight into the net like a cannonball! Kahn tried his best to save it, but could only watch the ball go in.

5-2! Monaco have secured the victory!

Ribery froze for half a second as the ball went into the net, then charged toward the corner flag like a cannonball.

He ripped his jersey over his head, revealing his lean waist and abdomen, but was caught by Roy around the waist while running.

Monaco players surged onto the field like a tide, and Giuly, barefoot, jumped onto the field from the bench and ruffled his hair.

Suddenly, a flurry of flashes came from the sidelines.

An AFP reporter frantically changed telephoto lenses, while a L'Équipe reporter shouted into his phone, "Get the agency to pull up Franck Ribéry's childhood records!"

The broadcast camera deliberately panned across the stands, capturing close-ups of his parents covering their mouths with their hands and weeping.

"Our Frank!"

The Monaco fans' stands began to sway rhythmically, and their singing drifted over the advertising boards and onto the field.

Ribery suddenly broke free from his teammates' embrace and turned around, just in time to see the big screen replaying the scene of him dribbling past three defenders.

"BUUUUUUT! Numéro 27, Fraaaank Riiiibery!!!"

The stadium DJ's drawn-out vocals boomed through the Stade Louis II, and simultaneously, flashing gold subtitles appeared on the electronic screens:
27 - F. RIBRY
BUT 84'
At that moment, the 20-year-old truly felt for the first time that the football dream he had while carrying cement on construction sites was becoming a reality.

The DJ then announced at machine-gun speed: "Assister – Roy, number 10!"

Roy wrapped his arms around Ribery's neck from behind and casually waved his left hand toward the stands.

This simple gesture sparked an even wilder uproar, with red and white scarves billowing like waves in the stands. Ribery turned to look at his partner.

His face wore an innate composure, as if the roaring mountains and surging seas were tributes he deserved.

Ribery subconsciously touched his still burning face.

He wasn't jealous, but his heart suddenly clenched.

That air of nonchalance, standing amidst thousands of people as if strolling in a garden, is something he could never learn while toiling away on a construction site.

He looked down at his still trembling hands, which still bore the scars of frostbite from his childhood.

As the shouts of "Frank" from the stands grew louder, Ribery suddenly grinned.

One day, he too will learn that effortless kingly aura, not through talent, but through countless late-night practice sessions of curved shots, and through the stubbornness of getting back up after being tackled time and time again, to hone his rough-and-tumble spirit into the true demeanor of a superstar.

As Roy released his arm, he noticed that the number "10" on the back of the opponent's jersey was dazzlingly bright under the spotlight.

In the 89th minute, Makaay poked the ball into the net amidst a scramble, pulling one back for Bayern.

The Bayern fans in the stands erupted in cheers, but these were not cheers of hope, because time was running out.

The stoppage time board is raised: 2 minutes.

Bayern players pressed forward relentlessly, with Kahn even reaching the vicinity of the center circle.

But Monaco's defense held firm like an iron gate, holding onto the last line of defense.

Beep—beep—beep—!
The referee's three long whistles pierced the night sky, and the score was set at 5-3 (total score).

The Monaco players collapsed onto the grass, some covering their faces and weeping, others kneeling in prayer.

The Bayern players stood frozen in place, while Kahn ripped off his glove and slammed it to the ground.

The Stade Louis II erupted in deafening cheers, and red and white flags surged like waves in the stands.

Monaco have advanced to the Champions League quarterfinals!
When the final whistle blew, Hitzfeld stood motionless in front of the coaching bench.

His suit was still impeccably tailored, but his ashen face betrayed everything. This legendary coach, who had led Bayern Munich to the top of European football, knew that his era was over.

Three years ago, Bayern Munich stood at the top of Europe, but now they are mired in a slump. From the quarterfinals in 2002 to the humiliating group stage exit in 2003, and then to the round of 16 defeat in 2004, the European glory of this Bundesliga powerhouse is fading rapidly.

As Monaco players celebrated wildly at the Stade Louis II, Bayern Munich's management finally realized the seriousness of the problem: the natural attraction they once had for top players was fading, and those stars who had proven themselves in European competitions were now more willing to accept offers from the Premier League or La Liga.

This defeat was like a heavy blow, shattering Bayern's conservative strategy.

The rebuilding plan in the summer of 2004 was forced to be brought forward, and veterans left the team one after another. Hitzfeld's departure marked the end of the era of the "Champions League winning squad".

All of this sowed the seeds for the youth revolution three years later.

Ironically, it was also from this period that frequent conflicts erupted in Bayern's dressing room, earning the club the nickname "Hollywood of the Bundesliga." Fluctuations in performance and chaotic management created a vicious cycle for this traditional powerhouse.

The Monaco players cheered and tossed Deschamps high into the air, red and white ribbons fluttering across the pitch.

Hoeneß and Rummenigge silently rose and met Beckenbauer, who was accompanying UEFA officials, at the VIP entrance.

All three eyes fell on the center of the court, where Roy was being celebrated by his teammates.

Beckenbauer suddenly spoke up: "Uri (Hoeneß), that French genius is worth considering."

His gaze was fixed on Roy, who was surrounded by his teammates in the center of the field. "This summer, all of Europe will go crazy for him."

Hoeneß silently stroked his chin.

They all knew that this Monaco team, which had amazed the Champions League, was about to become the "prey" of the big clubs - from Deschamps' coaching staff to the young talents on the field, they would soon be snapped up by various clubs.

“He won’t stay in Monaco,” Beckenbauer said in an even lower voice. “The Russian’s private plane landed at Nice Airport yesterday, and he’s sitting in a VIP box today.”

He sneered, "Do you remember how ugly the fight between Manchester United and Real Madrid was over him last summer?"

Hoeneß's brow furrowed more and more.

Beckenbauer continued, "What's more troublesome now is that the finances of both Milan clubs and Juventus have recovered, plus that Russian at Chelsea."

He counted on his fingers, saying, "Juventus were eliminated in the round of 16, so Moggi (Juventus' general manager) will definitely be doing a major overhaul; Inter Milan have a new president and are struggling to find a banner for rebuilding; and Berlusconi of AC Milan just helped the team pay off its debts."

He didn't finish speaking, but his meaning was clear.

This battle will be even more intense than last year.

Off the field, Roy was surrounded by reporters.

The flashlight illuminated his young face, and also the impending transfer storm.

Beckenbauer concluded by saying, "This time, it's either all in or we miss out forever."

Hoeneß frowned as he stared at Roy's jersey: "It's not just about the transfer fee; his contract is complicated."

"Bayern's stage should not be limited to the Bundesliga."

"If we're paying for an era, we're the most financially sound members-only club in Europe, bar none."

Beckenbauer lowered his voice, "Our shareholder Adidas regrets missing out on him and is now discussing whether to make additional investment to make up for it."

He glanced at the board members talking at the other end of the aisle, “but the conservatives are still hesitant.”

Rummenigge coughed lightly, his gaze still fixed on Roy: "This matter needs to be considered carefully."

Beckenbauer sighed and put his arm around their shoulders: "Let's go, this year no longer belongs to Munich."

As the three turned to leave, the stadium's big screen was replaying Ribery's third goal.

In the stands, the Monaco fans' chants were deafening, and their red and white scarves billowed like waves.

Hoeness glanced back one last time. Roy was being tossed high into the air by his teammates, while the Bayern players walked silently toward the players' tunnel with their heads down.

"Come back next year."

Beckenbauer patted the two men on the back, but the words sounded more like a self-comforting gesture.

For Bayern Munich, their Champions League campaign in the 2003-2004 season had come to an end.

As the final whistle blew, the electronic scoreboard at the Bernabéu Stadium froze on the bright red number 5-0.

This score completely washed away the gloom of the 1-2 defeat in Moscow two weeks ago, and the entire stadium turned into a boiling white sea.

Fans waved scarves with the club's logo, their cheers sweeping across every corner like a tsunami.

In the VIP box, Florentino Perez rested his hands on his knees, his glasses reflecting the dazzling lights of the stadium.

This Real Madrid manager, like a monarch in a medieval castle, quietly surveys his territory.

As far as he could see, the players, dressed in pure white jerseys, were circling the field to express their gratitude—Raul scored twice, Ronaldo scored a lightning-fast goal, Zidane unleashed a powerful shot, and Figo added the finishing touch, each goal triggering a new wave of frenzy in the stands.

The grass on the field still bears the marks of the fierce battle that just took place.

In the 18th minute, Beckham delivered a precise cross from the right wing, and Raul headed in the opening goal. In the 33rd minute, Carlos broke through on the left and crossed the ball, which Ronaldo tapped in to extend the lead. Just three minutes into the second half, Zidane unleashed a powerful shot from 30 meters out, the ball flying like a cannonball into the top corner. By the time Figo converted his penalty in the 78th minute, the away goalkeeper had already given up.

As the fourth official raised the stoppage time board, Raul once again displayed his killer instinct, receiving a through ball from Guti and scoring his second goal in a one-on-one situation.

The five goals were like five powerful punches, completely shattering the gloom in Moscow.

The stands at the Bernabéu had now transformed into a boiling white sea.

The roar of 85,000 fans seemed to shake the entire stadium.

The elderly fans helped each other to their feet, tears streaming down their wrinkled faces, their hoarse voices still chanting "Hala Madrid!"

Their songs, though tinged with the vicissitudes of time, are more resonant than ever before.

The young people had already gone wild, tearing at their jersey collars and whipping their scarves into white whirlwinds.

Some people even took off their jerseys and waved them above their heads, revealing the Real Madrid crest tattooed on their chests.

The shouts of "Vamos!" from the stands rose and fell in waves, so loud they made people's eardrums ache.

The entire stadium was shaking. The stomping of the fans on the top tier was like thunder, and the metal stands emitted a heart-pounding roar.

Even the billboards on the sidelines trembled slightly from the noise, and the photographer had to steady his tripod to continue shooting.

The players stood in the center circle, surrounded by the tidal wave of sound.

Raul looked up at the surging white waves in the stands, his eyes welling with tears.

At this moment, the Bernabéu truly deserves the title of "football temple".

On the pitch, Raul is kissing his wedding ring in gratitude.

This classic scene was played repeatedly on the big screen, and each time it appeared, it triggered a new wave of cheers and applause.

The players on the bench couldn't contain themselves any longer and rushed to the sidelines to hug and celebrate.

Security guards on the sidelines had to form a human wall by holding hands to prevent excited fans from climbing over the railings.

Florentino stood by the window of the private box, adjusting the collar of his dark blue suit.

Even through the bulletproof glass, he could still feel the vibrations coming from the stands.

The Real Madrid president had a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth, and his gaze behind his glasses was fixed on the distance.

There, the outline of the Champions League trophy seems to be faintly visible.

Meanwhile, next to the players' tunnel, the Lokomotiv Moscow coaching staff were quickly leaving the field with their heads down, their figures soon disappearing into the swirling white confetti.

(It's almost the end of the month, please vote for me! qwq)

(End of this chapter)