When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 142 We have five Golden Ball winners.
In the restaurant of the Grand Paris Hotel in Monte Carlo, Guti suddenly lowered his voice and imitated a reporter's tone: "Casillas, can you talk about the impact of Beckham's absence on the team?"

Before anyone could answer, she turned to Helguera, "I heard Beckham went skiing in the Alps, what do you guys think?"

Finally, he winked at Mejia and said, "I heard he went there specifically to try and save his marriage?"

Casillas put down his knife and fork: "Haven't those reporters been bothering us enough with their questions outside the hotel?"

"The British media asked me: Guti, can you stop Roy without Beckham? You got completely dominated by that kid last time! Hahaha."

"It's as if Beckham is some kind of top defensive midfielder. Isn't he just a magician?"

“The most ironic thing is,” Guti lowered his voice, “that he went skiing to save his marriage, but his assistant’s revelations have blown things up. You noticed that even the staff were secretly talking about it during training today.”

"Remember last year's birthday celebration for Ronnie? Beckham came out of a nightclub at 5 a.m. with that bitch Nuria, and Victoria almost smashed up their apartment in Madrid. And now, he's off to the Alps to 'save his marriage,' leaving us here to deal with those damn reporters."

Guti's voice was clearly filled with dissatisfaction.

Roberto Carlos coldly interjected, "What's the point of saying all this now? Tomorrow's game is the main thing."

His tone was unusually harsh, because Newia was one of his lovers.

After last year's scandal, he knew better than anyone how dangerous this woman was—she had not only had affairs with several Real Madrid players, including himself and Ronaldo, but had also publicly declared her intention to seduce Beckham. Now that the old story has resurfaced, Carlos's biggest fear is that the media will dredge up these unsavory past events again.

"The point?" Guti retorted. "Then why are we always the ones cleaning up his messes? Last time it was the nightclub, this time it's the assistant, who knows what will happen next?"

Helguera shook his head: "The whole team is preparing for the match right now, it's just him alone."

Mejia suddenly lowered his voice and said, "The most ridiculous thing is that the female assistant even told the media, 'You can feel Beckham's amazing physical strength through close contact.' Now all of Europe is talking about this, and we have to clean up his mess here."

He mimicked the text message leaked by the media from Beckham: "Hope to see you again sometime, still at that hotel, but there are too many rumors going around, so it might have to be postponed. But that gives you more time to have fun with me. I miss you so much."

Guti immediately chimed in, mimicking a woman's voice in a high-pitched tone: "I can't wait any longer, I'm ready to answer your call at any time."

"Okay, I'll arrange a meeting soon."

"Are you in the bedroom now?" Mesia continued reading, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

“Yes, I’m alone,” Guti replied, feigning shyness, then suddenly raised her voice, “completely naked, wearing only…”

Guti suddenly stood up and exaggeratedly touched his buttocks: "Cotton thong underwear!"

He deliberately twisted his waist, and the restaurant erupted in laughter.

Raul almost spat out the water he had just drunk, Ronaldo laughed so hard he slapped the table, and even the usually serious Zidane couldn't help but lower his head and suppress his laughter.

Zidane then said sternly, "Can't you guys act like professional players? We have a game tomorrow."

"Relax, Zidane."

Guti sat down with a grin. "Since Beckham isn't here anyway, we have to find something to have fun with."

"Shh," Casillas suddenly gestured for everyone to be quiet.

Queiroz was walking towards the elevator, his face terribly grim.

The players immediately buried themselves in their food, and the only sounds in the restaurant were the clinking of knives and forks.

The training session in Monaco had just ended on the afternoon of April 6.

Roy wiped his sweat and looked up to see several helicopters circling above the training ground.

He knew they were sent by the media, with their telephoto lenses pointed at the stadium, trying to secretly film their tactical drills.

Evra noticed it too, and he raised his middle finger to the sky, shouting, "Have you taken enough pictures? Want to come down and take a closer look?"

His voice was clearly impatient.

Deschamps walked over and patted Evra on the shoulder: "Ignore them, focus on preparing for the game."

Before leaving, Roy mysteriously called over a few teammates: "Come with me, I'll show you something good."

He led everyone up to the top of the hill behind the Latilbi training ground, where they could overlook the entire Monte Carlo.

Heathrow was already waiting there, having set up a high-powered telescope.

Roy adjusted the focus, then suddenly feigned surprise: "Why are the Real Madrid players fighting? My God, they're actually besieging Zidane!"

The teammates immediately stirred, eager to see what was happening.

Evra grabbed the binoculars, only to find that the Real Madrid players were training normally.

Roy laughed heartily: "Just kidding! But they are indeed practicing new tactics."

He put away his smile and became serious: "Do you remember what I said before the first leg? If we nobodies could upset Real Madrid, we would become famous. Now that they are down 3-5, they are definitely determined to stage an epic comeback in the second leg - after all, for Real Madrid, such a stunning comeback can add legendary color to their already dazzling reputation."

He pointed to the Stade Louis II in the distance.

"Seeing how hard they train, you can tell the pressure is all on them now. We were nervous in the first round, now it's their turn to lose sleep."

Morientes nodded: "But we need to be more careful in times like these. Galactic battleships are most dangerous when they are forced into a corner."

Roy glanced at Morientes but didn't reply.

He knew that his teammate, on loan from Real Madrid, always held a certain reverence for his former club, but he didn't entirely agree—the so-called "Galácticos" was nothing more than a collection of star players.

Roy grinned: "Then let them see what a real comeback is like."

But the team members still took turns using binoculars to observe their opponents' every move.

The Mediterranean town of Monaco has been completely swept up in the Champions League fever.

Media buses from around the world filled the parking lot outside the Stade Louis II, and the antennas of the broadcast vans stood like a forest.

Spanish and French television stations are conducting pre-match live broadcasts, with reporters gesturing into the camera in various languages.

Reporters from Marca and L'Équipe jostled for power outlets in the press center, while the BBC commentary team repeatedly checked the starting lineups. April 7th, pre-match press conference for the Champions League.

Deschamps pursed his lips, his mouth twitching slightly, as if struck by an interesting thought.

"First, we must remain clear-headed."

When he looked up again, his voice still trembled with a barely suppressed laugh, but his eyes had regained their sharpness.

"The score in the first leg is just the whistle at halftime, not the final whistle. Real Madrid has a history of legendary comebacks; they have that gene. If we go into the game with the mindset of 'holding our advantage,' we will make a fatal mistake."

“Roy, Morientes and Giuly are in good form, but football is an 11-man sport. We need everyone to run more and make more tackles. Real Madrid’s attack is world-class, but their defense is not impenetrable – the first leg proved that.”

"Regarding Roy's 'self-coronation' celebration? That's a natural expression of a young man releasing his passion. But I told him: a real coronation requires two legs and 180 minutes of performance. Zidane and Figo won't easily let a kid run wild in front of them."

"Tactically, we will stick to attacking; defending would be suicidal. However, we will keep the specific formation a secret. Coach Queiroz is definitely studying our right flank, but there are always surprises on the football field."

"Finally, please convey this message to Real Madrid: We at Monaco look forward to a real showdown with the Champions League champions. Real Madrid isn't here to be a supporting player, and neither are we. We'll either fall with dignity or make history and advance—but most importantly, we'll let the world witness a great match worthy of the Champions League name."

When Queiroz walked into the press conference, he looked exhausted.

His suit was wrinkled, his eyes were bloodshot, and the nasolabial folds at the corners of his mouth were deeper than usual.

Before speaking, he took a deep breath and looked into the distance.

Everyone knew that this press conference might be his last public speech as Real Madrid manager.

“First of all, we must admit that the first leg defeat at the Bernabéu was a major blow. The score of 3-5 means that we must score at least 3 goals away from home, which is no easy task, but Real Madrid is never afraid of challenges.”

"Regarding Beckham's absence, it's due to the rules—he was automatically suspended due to accumulating five yellow cards. Borja Fernandez will take his place. Although he lacks Beckham's accurate crossing and experience in major tournaments, his passing vision and defensive effort shown in training are impressive. Right now, what we need is that hunger to prove ourselves."

"Suspension is part of football, but Real Madrid never relies on a single player. Borja understands that every pass at the Stade Louis II must be precise and lethal, and every defensive retreat must be all-out. That's why we chose him – he's ready when the opportunity comes."

"Monaco displayed amazing attacking efficiency in the first leg, especially the combination of Roy and Morientes, which was extremely threatening. But our defensive analysis team has found a solution and will adjust the defensive line positioning accordingly. Casillas' form will be key."

"A comeback requires maintaining high-intensity pressure from the first minute. We will adopt a more aggressive formation, and Zidane and Figo must take on more playmaking responsibilities, while Ronaldo and Raul will also be actively involved in defense."

“Although we are playing away, Real Madrid has created too many miracles in the history of the Champions League. I told the players: treat this game as a final. The atmosphere at Monaco’s home ground will be very intense, but the pressure is on them now – they are the ones who need to hold onto their advantage.”

"Finally, I want to say: Real Madrid came to the Stade Louis II not to be eliminated gracefully, but to prove with our actions why we are the most successful club in the history of the Champions League."

After questioning Queiroz, the reporters immediately surrounded Zidane, bombarding him with questions: "Zidane, wasn't Roy's free kick more accurate than yours?" "Should the French team change its core player?" "Do you think Santini will give more playing time to new players?"

Zidane pursed his lips and tapped his fingers on the table.

He cleared his throat to quiet the noise, then said calmly, "Roy is very talented, but..."

He paused for half a second, a flicker of emotion crossing his eyes, "...But major tournaments aren't friendly matches. Right now, we need to focus on the Champions League; Real Madrid still has a chance to advance."

"A score of 3-5 means we have to go all out away from home, which is exactly the kind of situation Real Madrid excels at."

After saying that, he shut his mouth and refused to say anything more no matter how much the reporter pressed him for details.

By evening, the area outside the Stade Louis II was already packed with people.

French fans from Nice, Marseille, and even Paris poured into this tiny principality, carrying portraits of Roy and singing newly composed cheering songs.

When the Monaco team bus arrived, a deafening roar of "Roi! Roi!" erupted from the crowd, a sight that drew the attention of the Real Madrid stars who arrived later.

Raul looked out the car window and saw a dozen young fans wearing Roy's number 10 jersey jumping wildly outside the railing.

Guti was tidying up her headphone cord, but her gaze involuntarily followed the banners with Roy's name on them.

Although Zidane maintained his signature calm expression, his lips twitched almost imperceptibly when he heard people from his hometown of Marseille chanting Roy's name.

Figo couldn't help but glance at him a few more times, and the Portuguese man whispered to Zidane, "This kid is more popular than the president now."

Zidane frowned slightly and said in a cold tone, "Monaco has no president."

Figo was taken aback for a moment, then smiled and shook his head: "Alright, then he'll be even more popular than the Prince."

Ironically, as the Real Madrid team bus drove along the promenade in front of the Monaco casino, the scene outside the window evoked mixed feelings in the players—children from all over the world, including an American child with a big belly wearing a baseball cap, Japanese elementary school students holding their parents' hands, and several Catalan fans wearing Barcelona hats who stood out, holding Monaco team flags in one hand and waving Catalan regional flags in the other.

All the children were wearing Monaco jerseys.

Guti's comment about "these Catalans" was interrupted by Casillas with his elbow.

Suddenly, the group of children turned to the bus and gave it the middle finger.

"Damn it, they probably don't even know which country Monaco is in?"

Guti muttered to himself as he clung to the car window.

Without looking up, Helguera replied, "Monaco is a country."

The locker room fell silent for a second, then erupted in a few muffled laughs.

Guti rolled her eyes: "Fine, Duchy, is that enough?"

Raul shook his head helplessly: "The point is that they only know Roy right now."

At this point, Carlos interjected, "At least their geography is better than Guti's."

Guti grabbed a towel and threw it, but couldn't help but smile.

A blond boy suddenly ran to the side of the road holding a homemade "Go Roy!" sign, nearly crashing into a security motorcycle. His mother, startled, quickly grabbed her shopping bags and chased after him.

This made Guti, who was sitting by the window, mutter to himself, "We have five Ballon d'Or winners, do these kids even know anything about football?"

But when he saw another Roy poster appear at the next intersection, he could only helplessly draw the curtains.

(End of this chapter)