Chapter 20: Something's Off

Actually, it was a misconception right from the beginning.

Why had no one ever thought of using the "muscle forest" tactic before?

That was because back then, Mo Mo had supportive teammates like Karl and Doll.

Most of the time, it was they who fought for the ball, using their physical advantages to establish positions at the edge of or inside the penalty area, and then setting up the ball for Mo Mo.

In those days, restricting just one single player was not enough to shut down an entire offensive thrust. Mo Mo's tactical system at the time was the standard "one tall, one fast" combination.

And what about now? Mo Mo had no trusted teammates. When the ball reached his feet, he only chose to break through, charge forward into the penalty area, and shoot.

Once Mo Mo began to stand out, the "muscle forest" tactic was deployed against him.

"Why don't you try passing the ball to your teammates? Combine with them?"

Héctor Cúper's words were like a window opening up for Mo Mo.

Indeed, if there is a wall in front of you, why not choose to go around it instead of stubbornly crashing into it until your head is bloodied?

Mo Mo stammered slightly. It should be noted that all his foreign language proficiency was actually translated by the system. If Mo Mo really had to memorize his teammates' names, it would be just like his past experience of memorizing English words by writing down Chinese phonetic approximations.

Moreover, Mo Mo's transfers had been far too rapid and frequent, with teammates revolving like a merry-go-round. The only few people he could remember now were Coco and Martins!

"Try to trust your teammates. They are either great lads just like you, or senior players worthy of your emulation."

Héctor Cúper whispered these words right into Mo Mo's ear, and Mo Mo clearly grasped the point.

"Coach, did you teach that Chinese boy some secret to win us the match?"

Someone asked the stubborn yet respectable veteran coach, but Héctor Cúper just smiled slightly and said,

"You'll see in a moment."

The halftime break did not last long. Stepping back onto the San Siro pitch, they held a completely different mindset.

The fans of both teams cheered and roared in the stands, all wanting to see whether Mo Mo was just a "paper tiger."

Then bring it on! Come and see!

Mo Mo's gaze was firm, and everyone paying attention to him could feel his unique, innate determination from the bottom of his heart.

"Kid! What's this? Thinking you've got a smart idea to shake me off? Let me tell you! No matter what you've come up with, the cruel reality will eventually show you that it's a terrible idea."

With the usual verbal taunts and provocation, Mo Mo turned his head to look at Gattuso. The words that used to annoy Mo Mo now sounded as absurd and laughable as a kindergarten kid introducing his parents to the teacher by saying, "My mom beats tigers, and my dad kills pigs."

Mo Mo ignored Gattuso entirely. In his mind, he thought: How boring. Why would I even bother dribbling past you? Can't I just pass to my teammate?

Gattuso, however, considered this a victory. He winked and made faces at his teammates as if to say, "Look! This 'Chinese sissy' was scared shitless by me."

Álvaro Recoba actually had a nickname: "The Chinese Boy." This was because he once had an intimate photo taken with a Chinese child, and Álvaro Recoba held a strange fondness for China.

Mo Mo had a brief exchange with Álvaro Recoba. When someone asked Álvaro Recoba what Mo Mo had said, Recoba's expression turned somewhat peculiar as he uttered,

"He said he would pass the ball to me? And asked me to coordinate well with him?"

What Álvaro Recoba found strange was not the sentence itself, but why Mo Mo had gone to such great lengths just to whisper those words to him. Besides, he had always been actively trying to coordinate with Mo Mo anyway!

"The situation in the second half remains unchanged, and both sides are deadlocked. Apart from that one early mistake in the first half, Gattuso has not made another error like that. He has completely nailed Mo Mo to the pitch."

Chen Nu's voice sounded somewhat depressed, and even Álvaro Recoba was left completely baffled.

This kid! Didn't we agree on cooperating? Why is he back to trying to muscle his way through alone again?

Héctor Cúper was also in disbelief. What is the meaning of this? I opened my heart to talk to you and point out the problem, and you don't even have the most basic composure? You're actually picking a fight with Gattuso? Is bumping into each other for fun?

By this time, AC Milan's mindset had begun to relax. When they saw Mo Mo whispering to Álvaro Recoba earlier, they had been slightly nervous and even deliberately stepped up their defense against Recoba.

Now, however, it seemed they had been overthinking it?

Álvaro Recoba could feel that the AC Milan players marking him were starting to slack off.

The simplest evidence of this was that he had shaken off his AC Milan shadow several times already, though each time he was caught up, the AC Milan player would look at him with a teasing expression.

It was as if they were saying: What's the use of shaking your marker off? Nobody is going to pass the ball to you anyway.

At that moment, however, Rivaldo, Lehmann, Kholer, Wicky, and others keenly sensed that something was wrong.

"This brat isn't someone who loses his cool like this!"

The speaker was Hao Haidong. Although their time in contact hadn't been long, Mo Mo gave him the impression of a silent endurance runner—very patient and extremely calm.

"No! Something is definitely wrong!"

Rivaldo watched Mo Mo locking horns with Gattuso and constantly felt that something wasn't right.

At that exact moment, a flash of sharp insight crossed Mo Mo's eyes. The opportunity! I see it.

Right then, Álvaro Recoba broke free from AC Milan's control once again.

The AC Milan player trailing behind Álvaro Recoba jogged toward him unhurriedly.

At that moment, the Inter Milan midfield delivered a through ball, and Mo Mo and Gattuso sprinted toward the ball at the same time.

Everything seemed no different from before—Mo Mo was about to engage in another physical duel with Gattuso.

The foolish Mo Mo was going to pit his weakness against someone else's strength yet again.

However, would things really turn out that way?

It was like boiling a frog in warm water, like habits becoming second nature. Most people had already given up thinking, and some had even started sighing in disappointment.

Yet in the very next second, all of this transformed into astonishment!

"Mo Mo! Mo Mo! Mo Mo passes the ball! Now it's a counter-attacking opportunity for Inter Milan! Gattuso completely failed to anticipate this! Álvaro Recoba! He is completely unmarked!"

Chen Nu's voice sounded like a blaring siren, and the entire San Siro stadium instantly erupted into a boiling uproar. But it didn't matter; they still had Dida, they still had excellent defenders, and nothing was over yet!

However, they failed to notice that Mo Mo, having pulled several body lengths ahead of Gattuso, was charging forward at high speed. This was a 2-on-2 situation—two forwards against two defenders.

The time had come to test Dida, and the time had come to prove himself.

There are always winners, always losers, always those who succeed, and always those who refuse to remain mediocre.

Héctor Cúper stood up, raising his hands high as if ready to roar, shout, or vent and celebrate at any moment.

Come on! Let's see who the paper tiger is!

"Álvaro Recoba with the diagonal cross! Mo Mo! It's Mo Mo!"