Chapter 316: At the End of the B2B Road—There Is Leon
No matter the era, fans have always loved teacher-versus-student clashes on the pitch.
Even though Leon and Pirlo only played together at Milan for half a season, the bond they formed left a deep impression.
In every media interview since, both men have spoken of each other with warmth and admiration.
Anyone familiar with Leon's early years at Milan knows he learned a great deal about midfield orchestration from Pirlo.
Most fans think of Xabi Alonso first when they hear "Leon's mentor."
But Pirlo, as his "second master," fits the title just as well.
Now, this master-and-apprentice pair—each a symbol of a different footballing era—was facing off on the biggest stage.
Old-school Milan fans were brimming with emotion.
Neutrals were buzzing with anticipation.
The first tactical skirmish came early, with Leon pressing high to disrupt Pirlo's rhythm.
It marked the beginning of their personal duel.
Pirlo, unlike in his 2012 Euros renaissance, had clearly reached the twilight of his career.
In his younger days, he would've cleverly avoided such direct pressure.
But now, over 35, he no longer had the legs—or need—to dictate every passage of play.
Instead, Pirlo moved into smart positions to open space, only stepping in with a well-placed ball to correct Pogba or Marchisio's missteps.
And the two youngsters weren't slouches, either.
When the tempo sped up and they couldn't keep pace, Pirlo's vocal cues helped them realign instantly.
Marchisio played deeper, controlling possession.
Pogba pushed higher, launching attacks.
They complemented each other well, keeping Juve's midfield engine running smoothly.
In the opening ten minutes, Leon didn't just shadow Pirlo—he also studied Juventus' midfield system.
And he came to a sobering realization:
Even without Pirlo, Juventus wouldn't fall apart.
Their overall floor wouldn't drop too much.
Yes, Juve could still dominate Serie A and reach the Champions League quarterfinals with or without Pirlo.
At first glance, Pirlo didn't seem crucial.
Pogba and Marchisio could hold their own just fine.
In fact, at that moment, with Pirlo largely uninvolved, Juve were holding Chelsea to a midfield stalemate.
Most fans noticed Pogba's runs and attacking bursts—not Pirlo's subtle orchestration.
But was that the full story?
Chelsea had opened aggressively, pressing hard and dictating early tempo.
If Leon joined the attack, Chelsea could create more danger.
But Mourinho held him back.
Leon's role was clear: stay close to Pirlo.
Don't let him breathe.
Leon had no objections.
He'd rather "go missing" alongside Pirlo than abandon his defensive assignment.
Allegri scowled.
He understood immediately—Mourinho had seen right through Juve's setup.
Yes, Marchisio and Pogba could carry the midfield.
That ensured Juve wouldn't collapse.
But to elevate Juve's game, to push their ceiling higher?
They still needed Pirlo.
His importance wasn't just measured in pretty long balls or elegant through passes.
Pirlo controlled tempo.
He stabilized transitions.
He made the midfield work.
Pogba was brilliant—but too impatient.
Marchisio was calm—but lacked that top-tier vision.
Only Pirlo could bring it all together.
And now, Mourinho had shut him down completely.
Allegri's frustration was understandable.
Still, he could take some comfort from one thing—
Chelsea had also sacrificed their own core.
Leon was neutralized too.
Mourinho had swapped blow for blow: sacrifice one ace to silence the other.
Classic Mourinho—ruthless pragmatism.
Allegri knew he wouldn't have made the same call.
"Should we switch Paul and Arturo? Push the playmaker forward and bring Vidal deeper to disrupt Leon?"
Juventus' assistant coach offered the suggestion.
Allegri considered it—but ultimately shook his head.
"Not yet. Let's wait…"
Tactical stubbornness is a hallmark of great managers.
It wasn't that Allegri didn't know how to adapt.
It was that when he believed his original plan was working, he stuck with it.
But when he did decide a change was needed, he would act immediately—even if it meant overruling his players.
Strange as it sounded, this contradiction was core to Allegri's coaching style.
In truth, these moments were rare.
Allegri, deep down, preferred to win by stability.
And right now, the game hadn't broken down.
So he stayed the course.
Leon expected this.
Back in Milan, he had seen the same from Allegri.
Watching his old coach hesitate, Leon gave a knowing smile.
Pirlo, noticing Leon's calm, confident expression, suddenly felt a twinge of unease.
Just when fans watching on TV thought Chelsea and Juventus would settle into a drawn-out stalemate, unwilling to take risks so early in the match...
Chelsea struck with a sudden, violent tactical shift!
In the 16th minute of the first half, Mourinho stood on the touchline and quickly gestured two tactical instructions toward his players.
Immediately, Chelsea's midfield and backline surged forward in coordinated layers!
Leon, up to that point relatively quiet, suddenly sprang into action, charging forward with his teammates to aggressively press Juventus in possession.
"Mourinho's tactical change came fast! Looks like Chelsea are going for a high press! Let's see if Juventus prepared for this..."
Commentator Zhan Jun's tone was curious and excited as the broadcast focused on Allegri exchanging rapid instructions with his assistants.
Chelsea's signature high-tempo pressing was no secret anymore.
After the last round where they demolished Barcelona, every analyst under the sun had dissected this very tactical system.
Any seasoned fan could now confidently explain how Chelsea pressed high, then transitioned quickly to unleash wave after wave of sharp counterattacks.
But despite all the theory, no team in Europe had shown they could actually handle it.
Could Juventus be the first elite club to resist Chelsea's storm?
Everyone watching—from media pundits to fans across the globe—held their breath.
Allegri responded quickly.
He pulled Juventus' entire shape deeper. The forwards dropped, the midfielders tucked in, and most importantly—Pirlo, finally free from Leon's tight marking, began to show his value.
In the early stages of Chelsea's high press, Pogba and Vidal were both hounded relentlessly, struggling to connect passes.
But with the full team retreating and Pirlo dictating from deep, Juventus unveiled a new backline-centric passing scheme—a classic deep-build system.
"Whoa! Isn't this the exact same tactic Chelsea used to outplay Manchester City? Looks like Allegri's done his homework—he's borrowing from Mourinho's own playbook!"
Studio analyst Zhang Lu clapped the table in approval, while Zhan Jun expressed his surprise.
Juventus' imitation was spot-on.
It was, after all, Mourinho who first deployed this system to break Guardiola's pressing machine.
And it worked brilliantly.
Now Allegri was turning it back on him.
The big question was: could Juventus execute it under pressure?
To everyone's astonishment, they could.
With Pirlo as the deep-lying orchestrator, Marchisio and Pogba dropping to support, and Bonucci contributing his superb distribution, Juventus withstood Chelsea's press.
Evra and Lichtsteiner tucked inside to give more short options, and were always ready to burst forward for counterattacks.
It was a nearly perfect mirror of Mourinho's own system.
Even Mourinho couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the accuracy of the replication.
Leon, too, was caught off guard.
Pirlo, under pressure, was spinning the ball around the back with absolute composure—and worse, Juventus were now positioned to launch direct counterattacks at any moment.
And standing up front in Juve's shape was a familiar face—Morata.
Leon couldn't help but recall the image seared into his memory:
Morata's solo run that eliminated Real Madrid from the Champions League.
If Juventus scored first at home?
Leon had no doubt—Allegri would turtle up for the rest of the match, grind out a 1–0, and never look back.
Chelsea had already committed numbers forward. There was no chance to simply fall back and reset the press now.
And Mourinho hadn't yet reacted.
Leon realized he had to act—fast.
"TONY! TONY! Switch with me—I'll drop back!"
No time to explain. Leon shouted for Kroos, who—thanks to their season-long chemistry—immediately obeyed without question.
They switched positions quickly, but Leon didn't stop at Kroos's spot.
He dropped even further back, toward the defensive third.
And just in that moment—Juventus struck.
Pogba, having just shaken off De Bruyne's press, unleashed a diagonal long ball from deep, flying nearly 60 meters across the field.
Tevez, until now parked at the top of Juventus's shape, suddenly dropped back.
Morata? Shot forward.
In a split second, the pair executed a criss-crossing run that threw Chelsea's defensive line into total confusion.
"TRACK BACK!!!"
Terry's roar echoed across the stadium.
He and Thiago Silva were no longer the fastest. Far from it.
Chelsea's fullbacks had pushed up earlier, and Matic was slow to recover.
Terry could already see it—if Morata gained momentum, Chelsea would be torn apart by this counter.
Inside Juventus Stadium, over 30,000 home fans roared with wild excitement!
In their eyes, the scene was already set:
Morata, unleashed, sprinting into space...
And for the first time in this Champions League campaign, Chelsea's all-conquering defense on the verge of collapse.
All they needed was one goal. Just one.
Juventus could've played Chelsea with a defensive counterattack—that's a tactic the Bianconeri were famous for too.
Defeat Chelsea, restore Juventus' European glory—those dreams were just beginning to form in the minds of Juve fans when—
BANG!
A wave of cursing erupted from living rooms across Italy as Juventus supporters watched the broadcast and saw their dreams plummet like a rollercoaster.
Because just as Morata broke through Chelsea's backline with the ball at his feet, Leon came flying in hot on his heels—
faster, more ferocious, closing him down like a missile!
What the hell?!
Wasn't Leon just in Juventus' half a second ago?
How had he already tracked back?!
No one had answers.
Not the fans. Not the commentators.
Not even Morata, who suddenly found himself face-to-face with the charging figure of his old friend from Real Madrid.
Leon didn't hesitate. He slammed his body into Morata, shoulder to shoulder, and cleanly snatched the ball away.
Morata tried to win it back, but Leon spun out of the tackle with a tight pirouette and was off again—
switching roles from last-man defender to lead counterattacker in a single breath.
Juventus had committed forward expecting to score.
Now they were hopelessly out of position—
and exposed.
Chelsea could counter long too.
And this time, it was Leon launching it.
Before Vidal could close him down, Leon reached the halfway line and lobbed a pinpoint pass toward Hazard, who was already flying up the left flank.
Earlier in the match, Lichtsteiner and Evra had tucked inside as part of Juve's tactical shift,
and that gave Hazard exactly the space he needed.
This was Chelsea at their terrifying best—punishing you in a heartbeat off transition.
Hazard took the ball, burned through Juventus' right wing like it wasn't there.
Pirlo sprinted over to help—but never even got close.
Hazard glided past him like he was a cone in training.
No one blamed Pirlo—it was never his job to make that stop.
But the optics? Brutal.
Marchisio wanted to hold the middle and keep Leon from joining, but as Hazard cut inside into the penalty area, he had no choice but to help Bonucci, who was now desperately trying to contain the Belgian.
This—this—was what Hazard's raw ability created: space, chaos, and Leon's chance to explode forward.
In so many games this season, it had been Hazard tearing down the wing that gave Leon his launching pad.
Allegri's heartbeat thundered in his chest.
He screamed for Pogba to drop back—now—to cover Leon's late run.
But Leon was still charging.
No fatigue. No hesitation.
Hazard, before being swarmed, whipped in the cross.
Ibrahimović and Chiellini leapt at the near post, locked in a brutal aerial duel.
But behind them, Leon arrived.
Like a heavy bomber, he launched himself into the air at the back post.
Pogba, too late to think, just threw himself at Leon in mid-air—hoping to foul, stop him, anything.
But it was Leon who knocked Pogba flying—not the other way around.
The Frenchman had no chance.
Leon's force was overwhelming.
In mid-air, Leon twisted and hammered a header toward the far post.
Buffon reacted instantly—he even got fingertips on it.
But it wasn't enough. The ball screamed past his hands and spun into the net.
Leon didn't celebrate with his usual chest-pounding slide.
He just stood there, breathing hard, expression twisted in exhaustion.
That header took everything he had.
All over the world, commentators erupted with joy.
Fans were stunned.
But they could all see it clearly:
Leon was exhausted.
Bent over near Juventus' goal line, resting his hands on his knees,
he wasn't showboating—he was trying to catch his breath.
Defense to attack. Back-to-back sprints.
It had almost knocked him out cold.
Chelsea players rushed over, wrapping him in hugs—celebrating, but also relieved.
On the bench, Mourinho collapsed backward, clutching his chest in exaggerated relief.
The broadcast caught his expression and fans across the globe burst out laughing.
But then they remembered—
That minute of football had been madness.
Leon didn't just save Chelsea—he dragged them up from the edge of a cliff.
He became the cliff. The mountaintop. The summit.
Sky Sports' commentator lost his mind:
"Even God would believe it now! The end of the B2B midfielder's road—is Leon!"
Thank you for the support, friends. If you want to read more chapters in advance, go to my Patreon.
Read 40 Chapters In Advance: patreon.com/johanssen10