The ball brushed Valdés' fingertips and flew into the net, smashing into the upper side netting and sending the crowd into a frenzy.
After landing, Su Hang darted out from the swarm of players and sprinted toward the corner flag.
He wagged his finger, then launched himself into the air.
It was as if he were telling the fans: Everyone, with me!
After a 180-degree spin, Su Hang crashed back down.
The entire stadium erupted, shouting with him:
"Siuuuuuu!"
The thunderous echo shook the Bernabéu.
The commentators could barely contain themselves.
He Wei, so overwhelmed he let go of the keyboard, shouted: "Siu! It's him! Su Hang is Siu!!!"
"So that's what it is!"
"Siu isn't a name! It's Su Hang's celebration—the sound he makes when he celebrates!"
"It's an onomatopoeia!"
"Like when we were kids playing games, making up our own sound effects... biubiubiu, bong, pong, boom, pow, ta, ti... You know what I mean!"
"It just so happens this syllable sounds like Su Hang's name, which is why Spanish fans started calling him Siu!"
"Whenever you hear the 'siu,' it means Su Hang has scored again!"
"Su Hang is unstoppable! Su Hang is mighty!"
The comment section exploded with likes.
Everyone finally understood.
Whether it was Siu, Su Hang, Real Madrid's Crown Prince, the Fourth Captain, the White-Clad God of Death, or the Chinese Su Hang... they were all one and the same.
Truly, all the same person.
Different images of him merged together in people's minds, and many were even moved to tears.
He Wei admitted: "I don't even know why I'm crying... maybe it's just because of my love for football and what I'm seeing here."
One netizen wrote: "This commentary is pure poetry!"
"Way better than those commentators who always recite random poems out of nowhere!"
"Yeah, He Wei is so awkward!"
"Exactly! He Wei is trash! Our commentator is the true football poet!"
He Wei's face stiffened. He didn't know whether to laugh or break down crying.
His main profession wasn't being recognized—yet his 'side hustle' was winning everyone's praise.
...
At the Bernabéu.
That goal lifted Real Madrid's morale, and suddenly the game was on equal footing.
Both sides exchanged attack for attack.
In the 11th minute.
Roberto Carlos whipped in a low cross.
Zidane surged forward and connected with a header, but it flew just wide.
Had he connected properly, it would have been a goal.
Barcelona had one recurring problem throughout the game: a lack of height.
Especially with the new generation of youngsters who had just broken into the first team.
Their talent was undeniable.
But Xavi, Iniesta, and Messi... all hovered around 1.70 meters.
Striker Eto'o stood at 1.79.
Defender Puyol was 1.78.
A real weakness.
In the 23rd minute.
Messi, who had just been mocked for his height, seemed to hear the criticism.
Receiving the ball on the right, he executed a flurry of feints before suddenly flicking the ball past Roberto Carlos.
Bang!
Messi drilled in a deadly cross.
Fortunately, Samuel was alert, diving in to clear.
As an Argentine international, Samuel knew Messi well.
Back home, Messi was already hailed as a teenage prodigy.
Some even called him the next Maradona!
Samuel kept an especially close eye on him.
In the 29th minute, the game shifted.
During a set-piece attack, Figo was knocked down by Eto'o tracking back.
Eto'o was as relentless as ever, especially against Real Madrid—never pulling his tackles.
He was shown a yellow card.
But the bigger problem was... Figo was injured.
The medical team rushed in.
Moments later, they signaled he couldn't continue.
Real Madrid players wore grim faces.
Figo's incisive dribbling and his constant positional rotations with Zidane had been the key to Madrid keeping pace with Barcelona's attack.
With him out, their strength dropped by at least thirty percent.
Soon, Raúl appeared on the sidelines.
As Figo exited, Raúl stepped on.
Su Hang immediately pulled off his captain's armband and handed it to him.
"Su Hang is the fourth captain, which means he only wears the armband when the other captains aren't on the field. Raúl is the official captain, so Su Hang must give it to him," He Wei explained. "But for a 19-year-old to already be the fourth captain... that's shocking enough."
"After all, this is Real Madrid."
Back to the game.
Madrid immediately dropped into a more passive rhythm.
Without Figo, they couldn't link midfield to attack.
They were forced to rely on counters.
In the 33rd minute.
Roberto Carlos body-checked Messi in a controversial challenge, then sent the ball to Zidane.
Zidane, the midfield maestro, showed his class with a perfect through ball straight to Ronaldo.
Ronaldo broke into the box and went down.
The referee waved play on.
Recently, Ronaldo had been falling more often after dribbling.
Partly because of the defensive focus on him.
Partly because of his own condition.
Before, when he clashed with defenders, he would shrug them off, explode with pace, and breeze past.
Now, whenever he burst forward, pain flared in his legs.
Instinctively, he avoided going full throttle.
With more tussles came more falls, and to protect himself, he had to resort to precautionary dives.
Earlier in the season, referees might have given those penalties.
But now, every detail was scrutinized.
Unless it was a stonewall penalty, no referee dared award it.
Especially in El Clásico.
In the first minute of stoppage time.
Messi once again got the ball on the right.
Cut inside, down the wing, inside again, down the wing...
His dribbling rhythm was simply too fast.
Carlos, though quick and agile, struggled to keep up.
Finally, Messi cut inside once more, leaving him behind.
Bang!
Drawing Helguera out, Messi squared a perfect cutback.
Ronaldinho arrived in stride and smashed it!
Whoosh!
The ball tore into Madrid's net.
"GOAL! Ronaldinho!"
"This is Barcelona's magician! This is their king!"
"1-1! Ronaldinho and the youngster Messi combine to equalize!"
"Messi's ball control is frightening. His dribbling doesn't look sharp, but it's nearly impossible to defend."
As Barcelona celebrated, the first half ended.
Both sides headed to the dressing rooms.
"That kid's really hard to mark," Helguera remarked about Messi.
Samuel nodded: "Yeah. In all my years, I've never seen a forward with such freakish control. Everyone back home says he's the next Maradona!"
...
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