The referee didn't give Real Madrid much stoppage time—just three minutes.
On the sidelines, Simon was furious.
This is their home ground! How can you not add at least eight minutes?
Ahem!
Eight minutes would've been over the top.
But with the pace of the second half, five minutes would've been fair.
These small discrepancies show UEFA's subtle grip on matches.
When they think the score is fine, they cut the game short.
When they think it needs more drama, they let the clock run.
It's not outright manipulation.
But so many classics have been decided in those "extra" one or two minutes.
The 91st minute.
Liverpool dropped everyone deep into their own half.
The moment Real Madrid crossed midfield, they were swarmed.
Liverpool's forwards and midfield pressed frantically, then cleared the ball straight back into Real's half.
Forget building play.
It was pure disruption.
And tactically, it was the right call.
The 92nd minute.
Real Madrid's fullbacks pushed forward to support.
But Baptista, Figo, Beckham, Robinho—none of them were natural playmakers.
Against Liverpool's suffocating press, they all struggled.
If Zidane had been out there, things might have been different.
The 93rd minute.
Su Hang dropped back to take charge in midfield.
Figo retreated with the ball, hounded relentlessly. Spotting Su Hang, he passed off quickly and sprinted forward.
Cissé, who had been pressing Figo, lunged straight at Su Hang.
But Su Hang lowered his shoulder and barreled into him, using his body like a shield.
Cissé froze.
That collision—he absorbed the hit and redirected the force!
It didn't look heavy, but he felt his insides jolt violently.
Gerrard knew that feeling.
Su Hang spun free and drove forward.
Gerrard came across to cover.
Su Hang slowed, glancing left and right at his teammates.
Everyone thought he was about to pass.
Even Figo wouldn't try dribbling through here.
Huh?
Gerrard was stunned.
Su Hang, after slowing down, suddenly broke into step-overs!
Left, right, left, right, left!
Left!
No—right!
They weren't blistering fast, but smooth enough. Combined with his quick glances side to side, they were maddeningly distracting.
Gerrard kept his focus, but when Su Hang burst forward, he was beaten.
Su Hang touched the ball to his right and swept past.
Gerrard tugged desperately, but it was like trying to hold back a charging bull.
Crash!
Gerrard went down.
A brutal dribble—feint, pull, and the Liverpool captain was left on the turf.
And Gerrard slipping wasn't exactly unheard of.
Now came Alonso, Liverpool's brain, standing tall.
But Su Hang didn't slow down—if he did, Cissé, García, and even Gerrard would be back.
And the defense would reset.
Then Real Madrid's chance would be gone.
Thud!
Su Hang pushed the ball past Alonso.
Suddenly, it was a flat-out sprint race!
Wind Chaser—on!
Alonso spun, tracking Su Hang while chasing the ball.
But the next instant, he felt the impact.
Too fast!
He tried to pull him down.
But once a tank is charging, you can't stop it.
Crash!
Alonso hit the ground.
The crowd gasped.
Su Hang surged after the ball. If he got there, no one could stop him.
Carragher rushed in from the side.
Too late to reach the ball—so he went for Su Hang instead.
Crash!
Carragher slammed into him with a foul.
But Su Hang had braced himself.
Carragher bounced backward and hit the ground!
Su Hang only staggered before carrying on.
Three Liverpool players down in a row.
Su Hang was a wrecking machine tearing through defenders.
Reina couldn't leave his line—he had to hold his ground.
Su Hang dribbled into the box.
One attacker. One keeper. Both at their peak.
Bang!
Su Hang unleashed a thunderous strike.
With his finishing ability rated at 80, from this range and unchallenged, there was no way he'd miss.
But on the sidelines, Benítez leapt up—Reina guessed right!
He dived left!
Straight into the shot!
A world-class keeper against a non-elite striker—that was the difference.
On Real's bench, Zidane's eyes narrowed.
What a pity.
After dazzling runs—past four, bulldozing three—to finish empty-handed?
Su Hang's finishing was excellent, even first-rate when unmarked.
But he wasn't at the level of the great finishers.
Far from the very top.
Smack!
Reina got a hand on it.
But the next instant, his face said it all.
His left arm gave way under the force.
The ball barely wavered, ripping toward the side netting.
Clang!
Swish!
It struck the right post and ricocheted in!
The stadium fell silent.
Three seconds later—
The Bernabéu erupted like an earthquake.
"GOAL!"
"GOAL! GOAL! GOAL!"
"It's in!"
"Three-three! Su Hang equalizes for Real Madrid against Liverpool!"
"My God! A hat trick! Su Hang has a Champions League knockout hat trick again!"
"Gerrard! Alonso! Carragher! Su Hang bulldozed through Liverpool's core—attack, midfield, and defense!"
"Reina got a hand to it but couldn't change a thing! What was that?"
"One hundred fifty-five! One hundred fifty-five kilometers per hour! No wonder Reina couldn't stop it!"
"That wasn't a football—it was a cannonball!"
"Su Hang just broke the record David Trezeguet set in Monaco's 1997-98 clash with Manchester United!"
"Su Hang may not be a top striker, but this strike—sheer power!"
"Wait! Something's wrong with Reina—he's clutching his left arm… Carragher's calling for the medics… Oh God! His arm looks broken!"
"Unbelievable! If Maradona's five-man run was the peak of technical football—"
"Then Su Hang's four-man run, three collisions, and a thunder strike that injured Reina is the ultimate answer in power football!"
"Su Hang is Maradona from another dimension! Now I see why fans love him!"
"He never stops charging forward—even in the final minute!"
"And that's exactly how he pulled off the equalizer against Liverpool!"