"Suker is once again charging down the flank! Modrić pressing—nice! He gets past him! O'Shea! Suker dribbles past two defenders in a row and crosses to the middle! Can Kaká seize the chance? Vidic slides in to break it up!"
"The ball is back to Suker. In the second half, Milan mainly lets Suker attack from the wings. Kaká has basically become the striker! But Manchester United's defensive positioning is extremely disciplined—no chance given to Suker!"
Suker dribbled past O'Shea again with his classic "Rolling" move—so versatile it's almost a golden trick.
Yet even with this, Suker couldn't seriously threaten the goal.
At halftime, Manchester United made strategic adjustments to counter Suker's breakthroughs in the second half, making it tough for him to perform.
He couldn't expect his teammates, whose stamina was dropping, to keep up his pace—he had to act alone.
United relentlessly chased and blocked Suker, using numerical superiority to press him.
Still, Suker could sneak through tiny gaps.
"Unbelievable!"
O'Shea, having been dribbled past so many times, had lost count.
For a defender, that frequency was maddening.
But O'Shea couldn't afford to break down; at least he had to hold strong for now.
Even when beaten, he needed to turn quickly and track back.
Suker's game was hard—despite his excellent dribbling under dense defense and pressure, he couldn't break through United's back line.
At moments like this, Suker especially wished his mind would start humming "Pear Blossom Fragrance."
Bang!
Suker was brought down by Ferdinand and Vidic together, sitting on the ground gasping.
After ten minutes of intense attacks, Suker's saturated stamina rapidly fell.
Of course, Manchester United players were struggling too!
Suker propped himself up with his arms and looked at Kaká.
Where's the so-called 'Son of God's rainy night slaughter of the Red Devils'?
Why am I the one exhausted here?
Kaká blinked, sensing the resentment in Suker's gaze.
"Maybe I should step up a bit?"
After resting a while, Kaká's stamina was somewhat restored.
And with Suker's relentless attacks, United's defense was in turmoil.
Beep!
55 minutes in, Manchester United made substitutions.
Vidic and Giggs came off.
Wayne Brown and Solskjær came on.
United replaced a center-back.
Suker sighed.
All that effort wasted.
But Ferdinand was still on the field, maybe Kaká could launch a few more attacks.
After this change, United changed their tactics—no longer sitting back, they regained the upper hand from the first half and launched fierce attacks again.
Especially with Solskjær on, full of energy, he became more aggressive.
Together with Rooney and Ronaldo's intense runs, United's attacks came in waves.
Suker didn't track back. After ten minutes of continuous effort, he needed a breather.
His mood was a bit gloomy.
He was being studied!
Absolutely studied.
Whether it was the high-intensity pressing in the first 10 minutes of the second half or the timely substitution of defenders and forwards to maintain pressure—United was perfectly prepared.
They crushed Suker's breakthroughs effectively.
Manchester United came fully prepared, just like Modrić said—they were aiming for the Champions League final.
But who wasn't?
Moreover, Milan had every reason to fight for the final as well.
Liverpool was waiting!
Swish!
The stadium suddenly fell silent.
Suker's eyes widened, staring at his own goal.
The ball quietly rested inside the net.
Substitute Solskjær had combined superbly with Ronaldo and Rooney upfront, tearing apart Milan's defense and scoring from a tight angle.
"Oh no!"
Suker grimaced.
They were behind!
Their previously promising position was squandered.
"Goal? That goal..."
Aldo Serena couldn't believe it.
At such a critical moment, Milan had conceded at home.
After 60 minutes, Milan had played well, but their defense was buckling under pressure in the second half.
Nesta grabbed his waist, full of frustration.
He'd tried his best to block them but to no avail.
Kaladze looked depressed too.
"Make substitutions!"
Ancelotti sighed.
When he looked toward the bench, aside from Simic, there was no suitable defender to replace.
At this moment, Ancelotti felt the weight of failure closing in.
Still, substitutions had to be made.
Cafu off, Simic on.
Ambrosini off, Brocchi on.
Meanwhile on the pitch, Kaká found Suker crouching on the ground.
"What now?"
Kaká asked quietly.
Suker sighed, "What else? Just be their dog!"
"They can't hold the defense anymore. We have to fall back, add more defenders, let Pirlo pass, and we'll chase."
Suker scratched his hair.
Kaká looked at Suker: "Tired?"
Suker answered casually: "Yeah! Of course I'm tired! Look how long I've been running."
Kaká nodded: "Watch me!"
Suker turned: "What? You gonna explode?"
Kaká smiled: "I've recovered."
"I'll run more; you push forward when you can."
"Don't always think about passing to me—take your own shots if you get a chance!"
"Got it!"
After the brief talk, Suker hugged the ball and went to the center circle.
More than 30 minutes left.
They needed two goals to win.
Milan didn't want the match to drag into injury time.
Of course, trailing now, they had no right to say that.
Still, they didn't want it to drag on forever.
So only the two strongest points could lead the charge.
Suker took a deep breath.
This match was a fight to the death.
If 'Son of God's rainy night slaughter of the Red Devils' couldn't do it,
then it would have to be 'My damn rainy night slaughter of the Red Devils.'
"Won't you change the forwards?"
At Milan's coaching area, the assistant coach asked.
Ancelotti shook his head: "Change who?"
The assistant was silent.
Suker and Kaká were the only two chances left for Milan's comeback.
No matter how hard they fought, they couldn't be substituted.
This match was grueling.
But that's the Champions League semi-final!
Only the stronger team makes it to the final!
Manchester United fought hard before—now it was Milan's turn to explode.
Of course, Ancelotti wasn't sure if Suker and Kaká could pull it off.
But he could only pin his hopes on them.
"Come on!"
Ancelotti clenched his fist.
On the pitch, Suker quickly restarted play—wasting no time.
Milan retreated deeply to protect the defense and create space for the forwards.
United compressed their defense and midfield lines flat,
trying to limit Suker and Kaká's movement between the two zones.
Suker moved forward, sometimes walking, sometimes running.
But he didn't make any sharp moves, patiently waiting for an opportunity.
Kaká often dropped back.
His role was blurred—no longer just the "dog fetching the frisbee," but also the one throwing it.
Suker pursed his lips, frustrated inside.
So the only 'dog' here was him!
At the 67th minute, Milan seized an opportunity, intercepted the ball, and Pirlo launched a precise pass forward.
Suker burst forward to pounce.
As the ball arrived, Suker raised his thigh to control it but slipped from strong momentum, having to brace himself with one hand to keep balance.
Wayne Brown quickly closed in.
But Suker stayed bent over and poked the ball forward with his left foot.
Kaká darted past from behind and charged at the ball.
But United goalkeeper Van der Sar reacted faster, stepping forward and grabbing the ball firmly.
Kaká couldn't reach it—Milan's attack was stopped.
"Suker's pass was too close to the goal. But at that moment, he couldn't keep balance. We can't ask for more—just getting the ball out was already amazing."
Aldo Serena looked anxiously at the camera, his voice grave:
"Come on, boys! Now is not the time to give up!"