When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 70: The ending was already written (bonus chapter)

The newspaper "La Gazzetta dello Sport" stated: "Trezeguet completely disappeared from the field, and Del Piero took over his job. He vanished after just 30 seconds of play, and good passes from his teammates always seemed to falter at his feet. It's not that he lacks ability, but today, the Frenchman played like a novice, and his poor form continued all the way into the penalty shootout."

The Italian newspaper gave Trezeguet a score of 4.5, only higher than Camoranesi's 4. The Argentine was substituted early after halftime, and the Italian media did not target him.

The Republic newspaper satirized him, saying he "seemed to be on vacation."

Lippi revealed after the match that he didn't choose the penalty takers; Trezeguet was the first to take it, having requested to do so himself. His penalty-taking technique is fine; he's the team's second-choice penalty taker after Del Piero. However, he was too nervous and missed the penalty. The Italian media forgave Montero and Zalayeta, even though they also missed penalties, arguing they did more than Trezeguet in the match. Trezeguet became the target of criticism after the game.

After a game, reporters usually like to ask two types of questions: the stars of the game and the villains of the game.

Trezeguet couldn't escape the reporters' relentless questioning. In a foul mood, the Frenchman finally gave in, his face grim, and replied, "I played terribly today. I felt completely out of sorts for this game. It's been a great season, but it's ended so bitterly. All I want to do now is forget everything and go on vacation!"

At this moment, he completely forgot his boastful words:

"Hey kid, you're not qualified to tell a striker in the Champions League final how to play!"

Human sorrows and joys are not interlinked.

Ancelotti finally had a chance to shine. At the post-match press conference, Ancelotti appeared triumphant, basking in the glory of victory.

His signature thick eyebrows relaxed, deep lines appeared at the corners of his eyes, and an almost childlike, smug smile played on his lips. His slightly disheveled gray hair was soaked with champagne, with a few strands comically sticking to his forehead, but he didn't seem to care.

"I will hold the trophy tightly, but I want to make it clear that this is not revenge against my critics. Yes, I was once called 'the perennial runner-up,' a title that annoyed me at one time, but now that I have the European Champions League, I no longer care what people call me!"

Ancelotti said: "I am delighted to add another trophy to AC Milan's trophy cabinet. For AC Milan, I must say, everything is simply wonderful, the football atmosphere here is unparalleled, and the club operates with the precision of a clock. I don't think anything will change for my future; I will continue to work for this great team and this great club."

Commenting on the match, Ancelotti said, "Ruy Costa's position was extremely important, and he played a crucial role throughout the game. Shevchenko roamed the flanks, stretching the opponent's defense. We hoped to maximize our advantage by exploiting the gaps in their defense when we had the ball, and we dominated the first half."

Of course, discussing tactics and playing style is no longer important for AC Milan.

Ancelotti laughed and said, "Anything can happen tonight. The champions have brought us great joy. They will be free to do as they please tonight, and I don't want to impose any restrictions on them."

Another tragic figure in this match was Buffon. He saved two penalties in the shootout, but it was not enough for his team to win. Buffon said helplessly, "Even my save of Inzaghi's header in the first half was of no use. Juventus lost the game. It can only be said that AC Milan did better than us on penalties."

Reflecting on the match, Buffon said, "Even the best players can't perform at their best when under pressure. I have to say that Nedved's absence wasn't the reason for our defeat. But I think tomorrow is a new beginning, and we should look forward."

After the match, Del Piero made no attempt to hide his disappointment: "When you reach the final, it's such an extraordinary feeling. You feel joy and ecstasy, but when you lose in the final, it's really hard to describe the disappointment. We are all disappointed, but despite this, it's still a great season for Juventus. We won the league title and reached the Champions League final, only to fall short at the last moment."

In his assessment of the match, Del Piero said, "It was a closely contested game, with both Juventus and AC Milan having chances to win. Unfortunately, AC Milan emerged victorious, and our biggest problem was failing to capitalize on the opportunity presented by Roque Junior's injury and subsequent inability to walk."

Then, Piero leaned down slightly, placed his arm naturally on Buffon's shoulder, and gently massaged his shoulder.

He spoke with his signature slight smile, the fine lines around his eyes hinting at the composure of someone with experience, his voice deep and resolute: "It's alright, Zhan Luigi, you're only twenty-five."

Buffon hung his head, his usually sharp eyes beneath his thick eyebrows slightly red, and beads of sweat clung to his high, straight nose. He was considerably taller than Piero, yet now he hunched over like a child who had done something wrong, his broad shoulders trembling slightly in Piero's hand. He pursed his lips, the sparse stubble on his chin gleaming with a youthful sheen under the light, his Adam's apple bobbing with each swallow.

"We will help you win the Champions League!"

Piero emphasized his words and patted Buffon's sturdy back with his other hand.

Buffon finally raised his head, his young face a mixture of resentment and gratitude. He blinked hard, as if trying to etch the promise he made at that moment into his heart.

The following day was the first qualifying session of the seventh round of the 2003 Formula One World Championship in Monaco.

The Monaco Grand Prix is ​​the most unique race of the year. The Monte Carlo circuit, a network of streets, has always been called the "crown jewel" by drivers. It is narrow, dangerous, and very difficult to overtake. Therefore, qualifying results are crucial. The late racing legend Ayrton Senna won here six times, and Michael Schumacher has also won on this track five times. He will now begin his efforts to equal Senna's record.

Roy, wearing sunglasses, leaned lazily against the railing of the VIP box, with his girlfriend Doutzen Kroos beside him.

Her blonde hair flowed down her shoulders, and her white dress fluttered gently in the sea breeze of Monaco, attracting many cameras.

Which team do you like?

Du Chen leaned close to his ear and asked, his voice half-dampened by the roar of the engine.

Roy tugged at his collar: "Ferrari."

"Why?" she asked, blinking her blue eyes.

"Because they won."

His tone was harsh, his eyes fixed on the red race car speeding along the track.

In this day and age, Ferrari fans like Roy can speak with their heads held high, but he always has a sense of unease.

Schumacher's F2003-GA left a trail of afterimages on the narrow street, passing the first timing point in 19.790 seconds, nearly half a second faster than Raikkonen.

He reached the second timing point in 57.780 seconds, increasing his lead over Raikkonen to 1.510 seconds. His top speed at the track speed point was 293.7 km/h. Finally, when the red car crossed the finish line, his time was 1 minute 16.305 seconds, a full 1.621 seconds faster than Raikkonen!

On this track where he has topped the course five times, he ran smoothly and swiftly, easily breaking the 1 minute 17 second barrier, a result that will be hard for other drivers to match.

Roy's lips curled up slightly.

Schumacher, who is aiming to equal Senna's record at this race, quickly regained his amazing form after a slump at the beginning of the season and has already won three consecutive championships.

"Is that German guy really that good?" Du Chen pointed at Schumacher on the screen.

“Not just impressive,” Roy said, taking off his sunglasses to reveal a sharp look in his eyes, “it’s perfect.”

Barrichello followed closely behind at the finish line, and his time of 1:16.636 put Ferrari in the top two positions.

Roy whistled and took a sip of his champagne.

When Jenson Button of the British Honda team pulled off a stunning upset, finishing third with a time of 1:16.895, Du Chen excitedly grabbed his arm: "Look! That young British guy is so fast!"

Roy chuckled and patted his hand: "Fast? On this track, speed doesn't equal winning."

He pointed to the two red cars in the pit lane, saying, "Here, only red can have the last laugh."

Sauber's Frentzen had just finished his warm-up lap when his car suddenly exploded at the tunnel entrance, with smoke billowing from the rear. Amidst the thick smoke, Roy scoffed, "Garbage team."

Not far away, Leonardo DiCaprio and Gisele Bündchen were intimately chatting and raising their glasses, while Manchester United stars David and Victoria Beckham, surrounded by bodyguards, walked toward their private stands.

In the distance, the Beckhams were surrounded by flashing lights and fawning smiles, while Victoria's signature Prada sunglasses reflected a cold light in the sunlight.

"Look, the golden couple of the football world."

Du Chen whispered in his ear, a hint of envy in his voice. Roy's lips curled into a meaningful smile, "Do you know why he always gets to appear at events like this? Because his commercial value is ten times his footballing ability."

Du Chen leaned closer curiously: "But everyone says he's the best in England."

"The best one?"

Roy stroked his girlfriend's blonde hair, lowering his voice slightly, "The best free-kick taker? The best spokesperson? Or the best fashion icon?"

He swirled his wine glass.

Just wait and see, it won't be long.

His position will be taken by the true king—the one who speaks with his feet and with his trophies.

Even if he doesn't want to compete, two other people will rise up like a raging storm and ruthlessly kick Beckham off his commercial throne in the football world.

The reason for all this is simple: he wasn't strong enough.

While Beckham is undoubtedly a top-tier player with a dazzling playing style, he has never possessed a dominant level of ability.

You have to acknowledge his strengths: historic crossing ability, free-kick mastery, accurate long passes, and excellent running ability.

We must also acknowledge his weaknesses: mediocre dribbling ability (averaging only 0.6 dribbles per game throughout his career), average speed, lack of individual explosiveness, and reliance on the system.

His role is that of a top-tier supporting player, who is not even capable of being the core player to drive the ball forward or finish the game.

Without Keane, without Belon, without Gingerhead, he couldn't even handle the core tasks of the organization on his own.

If you think Beckham is a top-class playmaker, then imagine if Zidane or Modric had a face that was no less than Beckham's.

Who do you think is stronger? The answer is probably self-evident.

Roy's comments weren't directed at Beckham; in fact, he was using Beckham as an example to deconstruct his own career and business plans, reflecting on his own actions and gaining a clearer understanding of his own path.

Considering his club achievements, technical skills, national team performance, and influence, Beckham's historical ranking is probably between 30 and 50, close to "historic stars" (such as Kaká and Raúl), but slightly inferior to "kings" or "era rulers" (such as Zidane, Cristiano Ronaldo, and Messi).

If we use crossings, long passes, and set pieces as the core criteria, he could be ranked among the top ten or even the top five in history.

However, in terms of cultural influence, he is undoubtedly the most successful commercial icon in football history, driving the globalization of the Premier League, and can even be compared with Pelé, Maradona, Messi, and Ronaldo.

This is the core disagreement between Beckham and Ferguson.

He wanted to become a cultural icon like "Jordan" or "Woods," and in fact, he did achieve that at certain times.

But if you look at the achievements of the other two in their respective fields, you'll know that from a merit standpoint, that shouldn't be Beckham's position; he doesn't even qualify to be called the vice-GOAT.

He briefly rose to the ranks of sports cultural icons, being compared to legends like Jordan and Woods. But such comparisons seem utterly absurd when judged solely by athletic achievements.

Michael Jordan established his status as the god of basketball with six championships and five MVP awards, while Tiger Woods redefined the limits of golf with 14 major championships.

In contrast, Beckham's overall professional ability is far inferior to these two legends—he can't even reach the "top ten of all time" ranking.

This gap is not only reflected in the number of championships, but also in their respective interpretations and breakthroughs in the essence of the sport.

Beckham cannot do it, nor is he capable of doing it.

But he still achieved this success, primarily due to his and his wife's outstanding marketing abilities. Victoria is by no means an ordinary celebrity; her marketing skills are even stronger than most of the top agents in the football world.

Secondly, and more importantly, is the Manchester United platform. Its influence made Beckham a star, but it also constrained him. Manchester United values ​​commercial success, but it cannot allow a situation like that of Real Madrid during the first Galácticos era, where competitiveness was sacrificed to prioritize commercial gains.

This is the real "flying boot" that hit Beckham's eyebrow.

His eyes were frighteningly clear at that moment.

Roy knew very well that in this decadent city-state, fame was like a chip in a Monte Carlo casino—it might be in your hands today, but could change hands tomorrow.

He watched as Beckham gracefully waved to his fans, a gesture he had practiced in front of the mirror seventeen times in private, yet it always felt affected.

The roar of engines echoed from the service area as Ferrari technicians made final adjustments.

Roy's gaze returned to the track, and he raised his eyebrows.

In this world, some people earn respect through their abilities, while others win contracts through their looks.

Beckham? He just proved that football can be a glamorous reality show.

During this time, Roy began to face the changes in his life.

He is currently the most famous football star in Monaco. As long as he stays in this place, he can even deceive himself into believing that his fame is no less than or even surpasses that of Beckham.

But what he wanted was not to deceive himself, but to achieve true legitimacy.

When the last driver, Wilson, finished with a time of 1:19.680, Roy immediately got up and left the station.

Du Chen jogged to catch up: "Aren't you going to watch the awards ceremony?"

“There’s no need,” he said, walking toward the parking lot without looking back. “The ending was already written.”

One outcome was that Schumacher did not win the championship, something he already knew.

The second ending is Schumacher's own ending.

In the distance, cheers erupted from the Ferrari pit lane as Schumacher held up five fingers to the camera—he was just one championship away from Senna's record.

Roy finally managed a genuine smile.

"Looks like tonight's program schedule needs to be updated."

Roy pressed a button on his phone, and a text message from French goalkeeper Barthez appeared on the screen.

It seems the Manchester United team isn't going alone; he and Ferdinand, among others, are also in Monaco watching the races.

What intrigued Roy was the last character in the text message: "Ronnie wants to get to know you."

(End of this chapter)