The match had entered the 41st minute.
It had been over 30 minutes since Real Madrid scored their first goal, yet their offense remained relentless.
Sensing danger, Sporting Gijón shifted their strategy to focus solely on defense.
But even so—
Their ability to hold on till now was already commendable.
The defenders of Sporting Gijón looked at Suker as if staring at Satan himself.
To them, Suker was the devil:An unstoppable force,Relentless in movement,Powerful in physique, andTerrifying in his technique.Every touch of the ball sent shivers down their spines.
They didn't know how much longer they could hold out, but exhaustion had clearly begun setting in.
"Four more minutes! Hold on!"
The Sporting goalkeeper shouted to his teammates, trying to lift their spirits in hopes that a little belief would help ease the fatigue.
But right then, Suker's first step blew past their defense.
With a sudden burst, Suker launched down the right flank.
Defender Canella's foot caught awkwardly, and he collapsed to the ground—his fall unintentionally blocked his teammates' attempts to intercept.
Any attempt to slide-tackle now would likely hit Canella in the head.
Suker seized this opportunity—a quick left-leg motion and a stab shot to the far post.
The ball curled sharply, struck the post, and bounced into the net.
43rd minute of the first half — Suker scored again!
"GOAL!!! SUKER!!!"
"Suker again! Always Suker! Just look at that move—absolutely brilliant!"
"29 matches, 33 goals—he leads the scoring chart. While his goal rate slightly dipped in the second half of the season, every striker is struggling with the same."
"Suker has now created a significant gap—4 goals ahead of Messi."
"With 9 rounds remaining, can he make history and hit 40 goals in a single La Liga season?!"
The Bernabéu roared with thunderous applause and cheers.
Suker stood in the corner, surveying the stadium like a king.
29 matches. 33 goals.
That might look monstrous now—But a few seasons from now, the true goal-scoring era would begin.
Messi would go on to score 50 goals in La Liga during the 2011–2012 season.
That's the benchmark Suker had to beat.
He wasn't chasing old records—He was chasing the future.
Despite Real Madrid's turbulent season, Suker still managed such a goal tally.
Once the team stabilized and played to his strengths, his numbers would soar.
He was charging toward becoming the Greatest of All Time.
Messi and Ronaldo were his current rivals—But his ultimate competition included Maradona, Pelé, Cruyff, and others.
As his talent, fame, and influence grew, so did his ambition.
Defeating Messi and Ronaldo wasn't the end goal—Suker wanted to build an unreachable legacy.
Of course, for now, he needed to stay grounded—Every match, every chance had to be seized.
Halftime.The Real Madrid squad returned to the dressing room with a 2–0 lead.
Everyone was in high spirits.
"Karim, your passing today is really on point," Alonso said, smiling at Benzema.
Indeed, Benzema had been fantastic—dropping deep to connect the play and unlocking Suker's runs.
He'd sacrificed his own offensive stats to make Suker even more lethal.
Benzema grinned. "Maybe I've got a bit of talent."
What he didn't mention was that he watched Suker's match replays every night before bed—studying his runs, his positioning, his moves.
If he still couldn't link up with Suker after that, he might as well quit.
But of course, he wasn't going to say that out loud.
Let everyone think it was just natural talent.
Suker glanced at Benzema.
In the future, Benzema would become one of the greatest center-forwards—a false nine genius.
But for now, Suker was Real Madrid's #9.
He could play on the wings, but he simply didn't want to.
And with Kaka arriving next season, Benzema's touches might get even fewer.
Still, Benzema's effort to support him was far more welcomed than Higuain's open challenge to his position.
Suker made a mental note—If his stats and role remained unaffected, he wouldn't mind letting Benzema play centrally to feed him even more goals.
"Alright," Casillas rallied, "Let's finish this match strong and focus on the Champions League!"
Second half began. Teams switched sides.
Higuain? Still on the bench.
With Real Madrid in control, there was no need to bring him on.
Higuain was glaring at Ledep like he wanted to stab him.
Ledep, though, didn't even care.
He was just the puppet.Suker and Casillas were pulling the strings—and it was their call to freeze out Higuain.
65th minute.Benzema and Marcelo were subbed off.Albiol and Metzelder came on.Time to focus on defense.
Gijón hadn't given up—They were pushing for a consolation goal.
But that left them open to a counterattack.
Casillas launched a long ball forward toward Suker.
This was something he had been working on—long kicks straight to the striker.
Suker and Canella raced for the ball.
Canella had the edge—he was closer.But the pressure from Suker was enormous.
As he attempted to clear the ball, it clipped his foot awkwardly and rolled sideways.
Suker's eyes lit up.He turned and chased it down.
"Damn it!"
Canella tried to recover—but too late.
Suker reached the ball, back to goal.
He flicked it with his heel.
The ball nutmegged the goalkeeper—right through the armpit—and into the back of the net.
78th minute — Hat-trick for Suker!
He now had 34 goals for the season.
Sporting Gijón's morale was shattered.
"No stopping Suker!"
"Gijón tried everything—but that first goal came too fast, the second broke their spirit, and now this—"
"With a third goal, the match is done and dusted!"
"Every team is trying to figure out how to stop Suker. So far, only crowding him works, but that leaves others like Benzema and Di María wide open!"
"Maybe only Barcelona can stop this Real Madrid team."
"Yes—El Clásico is just around the corner!"
Round 31: Real Madrid vs. Barcelona at the Camp Nou.
"In the last fixture, Madrid beat Barcelona at home—what will happen this time?"
"The match ends—Real Madrid 3–0 Sporting Gijón."
"They maintain their winning momentum and stay two points behind Barça. This title race might be decided in El Clásico!"
"I'm your host, Gonzales—see you in the Champions League!"
As Real Madrid celebrated another win, the El Clásico hype began heating up.
So did the Suker vs. Messi rivalry.
That same night, Marca started the trash talk war.
"What's it like to have a striker with 33 goals in 29 games?"
And underneath—A huge picture: "Barcelona — LOSERS!"
They fired the first shot, anticipating that Catalunya Daily would strike first.
Sure enough, Catalunya Daily hit back:
"If a player's value is only measured by goals, then football has lost its soul!"
But Marca had receipts.
They pulled up a March 11, 2009 article from Catalunya Daily:
"Goals are the ultimate measure of a striker's worth!"…published after Messi's 4-goal game.
Boom.Caught in 4K.
Catalunya Daily was left speechless—beaten by their own words.
Last season, Real Madrid had gone trophyless, with only the aging Raúl struggling to score.
Now it was payback time.
Both newspapers went to war—Catalunya used terms like "Champions League eternal round-of-16 exits," "the doomed Galácticos," and "failed superstar policy."
Marca retaliated with "Stamford Bridge robbery," "delusional galactic complex," and "destroyers of Ronaldinho."
Even fans joined in.
"Football is a team sport! Goals aren't everything! I prefer Messi's style—it's all about the team!"
From Bordeaux, striker Chamakh took a shot at Suker.
Suker wasn't pleased.
"This guy again?!"
He didn't care about Chamakh, a clown.But the fact that he inserted himself into the Suker vs. Messi debate? Unforgivable.
Then things escalated—Arsenal's Van Persie publicly backed Suker in the London Sports Daily.
"Goals absolutely reflect a striker's worth. If a striker doesn't score, what's the point?"
"Calling Suker a pure poacher is blindness. He adapted because Madrid lacks space creation."
"Watch his games at Milan—he played as a central playmaker, wore the No.10 shirt. That's not a poacher."
"Everyone has their preferences, but right now, Suker and Messi are at the top. I choose Suker!"
Van Persie's statement shocked many.
But with Arsenal about to face Barça in the Champions League, this was strategic provocation.
Chamakh mocked Suker?
Van Persie could mock Messi.
All part of the game.
They couldn't openly challenge Messi or Suker—they'd be laughed at.
So they did it subtly—by "comparing" instead of directly trashing.
And it worked.
BANG! BANG! BANG!In Real Madrid's training ground, Suker was working on his finishing.
He practiced finishing under pressure—engaging defenders before shooting.
He scored from shoulder-to-shoulder battles,from sharp cuts,and from volleys.
Endless variations. Unstoppable shots.
"I'm done! Go find someone else!"
Ramos dropped to the turf, exhausted.
He'd been shadowing Suker all day.
Morning session. Afternoon session.Suker's stamina was inhuman.
"Be a man!" Suker wiped sweat. "One more hour!"
"Why am I paying for Chamakh's mouth?!"
"Because you're here!" Suker grinned.
"NO! I quit! You're a freaking mule!"
"How did you know that's my nickname?"
"GET LOST!"
Ramos stormed off.
The others saw it and bolted too.
Suker had no choice but to call it a day.
"This training culture…" he muttered.
Back in the locker room, he shot a glare at Albiol.
"Not even the bench players step up anymore."
Albiol turned his head away—he had no death wish.
Watching Ramos get wrecked, he'd have to be insane to volunteer.
Soon, Ledep entered:
"Two days to the Champions League match. Tomorrow we do tactical prep and light warm-up. Keep yourselves sharp!"
Higuain's eyes burned with rage as he glared at Ledep, who ignored him completely and walked off.
Players left in pairs and trios—Only Higuain sat alone.
Suker reflected:
In a team sport, skill mattered—But so did social intelligence.
Lack social awareness, and you'd end up isolated like Higuain.
Suker had name recognition, a strong support network, and didn't need to kiss up to anyone.
But back when he first turned pro, he had to watch every step.
Higuain's social sense was bad.
Being shy is okay.
But being silent and stiff?
That made everyone uncomfortable.
Nobody wanted to be close.
Someone like Marcelo was the opposite—Friendly, funny, and savvy.
Just then, Real Madrid finally received good news before the Champions League.
Pepe was back!
He had been out since Christmas—Nearly four months on the sidelines.Now, he was starting recovery training.
Not quite match-fit yet—But he had to get back in shape in time for the World Cup.
Portugal wouldn't call him up unless he played club minutes first.
So Pepe was desperate.
Even if it meant rotting on the bench—he had to make the squad.
Suker watched him train.
After months in bed, Pepe had even grown some hair.His signature monk-like baldness was gone.
Suker thought—Pepe still looked mean, but the lack of baldness made him seem softer.
It was probably due to muscle loss from months of inactivity.
But that could be rebuilt in time.
Suker was genuinely excited for Pepe's return.
Real Madrid's two "beast" defenders would soon reunite.
Garay had done well—but lacked the ferocity that Pepe brought.