Cicinho burst down the wing.
Sami Hyypiä stepped out decisively, moving to block him head-on.
Cicinho faked a pass, then suddenly nudged the ball forward again.
Figo overlapped, took the ball, and drove it to the byline.
Liverpool's left-back Stephen Warnock stuck with him, but was half a step behind.
Figo ran on, glancing into the box to check his teammates' positions.
Thud!
He slowed and whipped in a cross with his right foot.
A moment later, Warnock lunged in to block.
But his outstretched leg was a fraction too late—he missed the ball and instead caught Figo's right leg after the cross.
Both players went down rolling.
Inside the area, Su Hang and Jamie Carragher were wrestling for position.
Both had their hands on each other.
As the ball came flying in, Su Hang darted to the near post.
He read the flight perfectly.
Near post!
The very spot Hyypiä should have been covering after stepping out to help against Cicinho.
Thud!
Su Hang flicked a header at the near post.
Carragher, chasing from behind, couldn't get up in time.
Dudek stretched desperately to save.
But Su Hang's header sent the ball arcing just over him, dipping toward the far corner.
Swish!
From an impossible angle, the ball smacked into the side netting.
"GOAL!"
"Su Hang scores again!"
"Four goals over two legs! Su Hang really is Liverpool's nemesis!"
"One–nil! Real Madrid lead on the night and 4–3 on aggregate—half a step into the Champions League quarterfinals!"
"Huh? What's happening?"
"Figo's still on the ground!"
"Su Hang is heading over."
After scoring, Su Hang had looked straight at Figo, ready to celebrate with him.
But from the Portuguese's eyes, sitting on the turf, he caught a flicker of sorrow.
Could it be…?
Su Hang sprinted over. "Luis, are you alright?"
Figo forced a smile. "Of course I'm fine. How was that assist? Nice, wasn't it? Didn't I live up to all that heat you drew before the match?"
Su Hang nodded, then pressed down firmly on Figo as he tried to stand.
Their eyes locked.
A silent conversation passed between them.
Su Hang: You're hurt.
Figo: No.
Su Hang: You definitely are. Right thigh, adductor muscle.
Figo: Fine… a little, but it's nothing serious. I can keep playing.
Su Hang: No—you can't.
Figo: But this match can't go on without me. I'm the only playmaker left.
Su Hang: And the World Cup? Don't you want to play in your last World Cup?
Figo: …
"Oh! Su Hang is calling for the team doctor!"
"Looks like Figo really is injured."
"Let's check the replay… oh, Warnock's challenge was nasty. You can even see blood on Figo's leg."
"The cut isn't the real danger—it's the muscle strain. Taking that kind of impact while sprinting usually means a tear."
"Exactly! Real Madrid's doctor is signaling Simon for a substitution."
"Figo still wants to carry on, but Su Hang won't let him. He must be thinking about the World Cup, not wanting Figo to risk it."
"Figo looks apologetic, even misty-eyed, but he can't go against his captain's decision."
"This is a big blow for Real Madrid!"
"Guti is coming on for Figo."
"Real Madrid lead 1–0, but losing their key playmaker to injury could cost them dearly."
Play resumed.
Warnock received a yellow card for dangerous play.
With Guti on, Madrid kept attacking, but it wasn't the same.
Figo used to beat defenders with dribbles before picking the pass.
Guti didn't have that same dribbling edge, though he had vision and a knack for threading through balls.
As a result, he often lingered in tight spots, trying to slip killer passes out of double or triple pressure.
The outcome? Teammates struggled to latch onto them.
It was like a basketball player dribbling until stuck, then forcing a tough pass.
And if those passes were cut out… it was a springboard for Liverpool counters.
13th minute.
Guti's ball into Raúl through the middle was intercepted by Alonso.
17th minute.
His surgical through ball into the box was cut out by Carragher.
22nd minute.
Gerrard, Luis García, and Finnan swarmed him.
Guti twisted and turned, but was finally dispossessed cleanly—no foul.
Frustrated, he leapt up and shoved Gerrard to the ground.
The referee blew immediately, flashing Guti a yellow.
Gerrard jumped back up and stormed at him.
Guti stood his ground, chest-to-chest with the Liverpool captain.
Su Hang rushed in, pushing Guti back while shielding him from Gerrard, Finnan, and the others.
Players from both sides piled in, sparking a mass confrontation.
Boo!
The stands erupted in thunderous jeers.
Liverpool were united.
Real Madrid were under immense pressure.
After the clash, Liverpool's attack caught fire.
Their morale had soared.
They were chasing the game and needed a goal.
And Madrid, with Guti forced deeper and unable to organize under pressure, had their midfield disconnected from Su Hang and Raúl up front.
29th minute.
Gerrard unleashed a rocket—off the crossbar!
35th minute.
Cissé snatched at a chance in the box but shot wide.
His finishing was what kept him from being a true top striker.
43rd minute.
Luis García burst down the wing and whipped in a cross.
The ball deflected off Ramos and ricocheted onto the post—almost an own goal.
Real Madrid's goalmouth was living dangerously.
If not for halftime, conceding seemed only a matter of time.
Even with the break, most expected Liverpool to overturn it after the restart.
They needed just one goal to knock Real out.
...
Away dressing room.
The Madrid players sat heavy with worry.
This match was proving tough.
They felt stifled, unable to show their full range.
Without their playmaker, everyone was restricted.
"Since Guti isn't working as the playmaker, drop him into midfield," Su Hang proposed. "Raúl can fall back into the playmaker role, and I'll hold up the line alone up front."
"That way, there's no gap between midfield and attack."
"I can't threaten their defense by myself, but we don't need to score—we just have to defend."
"Once we reach seventy minutes, we can bring on Robinho to give us counterattacking punch."
Simon found Su Hang's suggestion reasonable.
He decided to shift the formation for the second half.
Guti dropped into midfield.
Raúl took the playmaker role.
Real Madrid moved from a 4-3-1-2 into a 4-4-1-1.
They braced for extreme defense.