Football: I am the coach of Atlético de Madrid.

Chapter 6

Preparations for the upcoming matches were tight and productive.

Still, Yang Hao managed to squeeze time out of his packed schedule to convince Miguel Gil and Juanma Lillo to join him on a Wednesday flight to Rome. The trio attended the UEFA Champions League quarterfinal second leg at the Stadio Olimpico.

Players like Nedvěd, Nesta, Mihajlović, and Verón were among Yang Hao's favorites. Unfortunately, both Simeone and Mancini started on the bench.

Interestingly, Yang Hao secured the tickets through Diego Simeone himself.

Eriksson's Lazio team resembled the coach's personality: hesitant when boldness was required, overly aggressive at the wrong times—just as Eriksson's own career was marred by lapses in judgment.

And tonight, Lazio crumbled for the same reason.

From the opening whistle, Verón, Almeyda, Nedvěd, and Conceição dominated the midfield battle, maintaining possession and dictating the game's tempo. However, Valencia's conservative tactics also played a role.

Having won the first leg 5-2, Héctor Cúper's team was content to sit back and protect their aggregate lead.

Eriksson made the fatal error of failing to attack early.

In situations like this, where the home team needs three goals to overturn a first-leg deficit, the tactical priority is clear: score quickly.

Instead, Lazio's cautious opening gave the match a tepid rhythm. The team didn't build any real momentum until the 30th minute when a series of corners applied some pressure—but no significant threats materialized.

As always, Nedvěd was tireless, creating chances wherever he could. But Lazio's overall tempo remained sluggish, lacking the intensity needed for a comeback.

After watching only half an hour, Yang Hao and Juanma Lillo could already predict the result.

"This match is lost," Lillo remarked.

Indeed, Lazio showed no signs of turning the tide.

The final whistle confirmed it: Lazio failed to overcome Valencia, exiting the competition.

"Eriksson wasted this brilliant lineup," Yang Hao lamented.

Meanwhile, in the other quarterfinal, Van Gaal's Barcelona overturned a 3-1 first-leg deficit to Chelsea with an explosive performance at Camp Nou.

Van Gaal calmed his players and switched to an aggressive 3-3-3-1 formation, reinstating Rivaldo to his favored No. 10 role. The result? A high-octane start that saw Rivaldo score early, setting the tone for a relentless assault.

Barcelona's offensive barrage culminated in a 5-1 victory after extra time, with Rivaldo and Kluivert sealing the comeback in style.

The contrast between Barcelona's urgency and Lazio's passivity underscored the importance of a manager's approach to high-stakes matches.

In another matchup, Real Madrid advanced past Manchester United with a 3-2 away victory, following a 0-0 draw at the Bernabéu. Raúl's brace proved decisive as Del Bosque's pragmatic 5-3-2 formation stifled United's famed attacking prowess.

...

After the match, Lazio disbanded for the night. Diego Simeone, however, made time to meet with Yang Hao and the others—largely thanks to Miguel Gil's connections.

Since Beckham's infamous red card at the 1998 World Cup, Simeone's reputation had taken a hit. But away from the pitch, he remained approachable and genuine.

Yang Hao, intrigued by the future "El Cholo," eagerly engaged him in conversation.

Simeone expressed his delight at Atlético Madrid's recent two-game winning streak and, fresh from a grueling battle against Valencia, offered tactical advice: "You need to hit Valencia with intensity."

"Eriksson was too soft," Simeone muttered with a trace of frustration.

His first "soft" referred to Eriksson's name, while the second criticized his timid tactics.

"I don't understand why he insisted on starting two forwards. Drop one, flood the midfield! If it were up to me, I'd have made Farinós regret stepping foot in the Olimpico!"

Still, his outburst ended with a resigned sigh.

"It's too late now."

Eriksson had only given Simeone six minutes of playing time that night—far too little to make an impact.

"You guys made too many mistakes in the first leg," Yang Hao observed.

Simeone nodded. "We completely underestimated the intensity Valencia would bring, especially in those opening minutes. They hit us with two quick goals in the first four minutes, and we were shell-shocked."

"Losing Nesta also hurt your defense," Yang Hao added.

The group collectively acknowledged the importance of preparation—a lesson Lazio had learned the hard way.

"I just spoke with the others in the locker room," Simeone said. "They all agree Valencia's players were drained after this match. Be ready for them."

Simeone turned his gaze toward Yang Hao, still somewhat incredulous.

"Are you really Atlético's head coach?"

Yang Hao smiled confidently.

"We've been preparing all along," he assured him. "Cúper will come at us like he did in the first leg against Lazio—explosive from the start."

"They can't sustain that intensity for long," Simeone noted.

"Exactly," Yang Hao agreed. "Plus, we can afford a draw—they can't. Valencia is fifth in the league, four points behind Zaragoza. They need to win to stay in the Champions League race."

Realization dawned on Simeone.

A top-four finish in La Liga meant a Champions League spot, which brought millions in revenue. No club could afford to take it lightly—especially not against a relegation-threatened Atlético.

"Then I'm at ease," Simeone said with a grin. "Get revenge for me."

Yang Hao nodded confidently, then looked Simeone straight in the eye.

"If—and I mean if—things don't work out for you at Lazio, and I'm still Atlético's coach, you can call me anytime."

Simeone froze momentarily, studying Yang Hao's expression before nodding in agreement.

Based on tonight's match, Eriksson clearly favored Almeyda over Simeone. The writing was on the wall.

Yang Hao knew that signing Simeone at this point was unlikely.

His intent was simply to plant a seed—a signal that when Simeone was ready to return, the door would be open. Of course, this depended on whether Yang Hao remained Atlético's manager by then.

...

On the flight back to Madrid from Rome, Yang Hao and Miguel Gil sat together, naturally steering their conversation toward Atlético Madrid.

Miguel was reflective, lamenting that Atlético couldn't afford a player like Simeone anymore.

When it came to managing the club, Miguel admitted he had no clear roadmap. He was torn: on the one hand, he hoped his father, Jesus Gil, would relinquish control. On the other hand, he wasn't confident he could take the reins effectively if given the chance.

"It's simple," Yang Hao began, speaking with a strategic air. "Invest in global promotion and focus on commercial development—especially in North America and Asia."

Yang Hao succinctly captured the essence of modern football: it's a business.

"But global promotion and sponsorships require success on the pitch," Miguel reminded him.

"Exactly. That's why football remains the core," Yang Hao replied.

He didn't hold back, sharing his candid thoughts.

"Regardless of whether we stay in La Liga or not, Atlético needs an overhaul. Many of the current players' minds are elsewhere. Sell off players like Valerón and Hasselbaink."

"By offloading players, we can generate significant transfer funds, cut wage expenses, and revamp the facilities at Majadahonda. Equipment, infrastructure, and staff—all need upgrades."

"The youth academy also needs restructuring. Our B team has a great record, but some of those players are already 25, signed to professional contracts. What's the point? The academy should focus on developing talent for the first team. If they can't contribute, let them go."

"A system needs to be fluid. We're clogging the pipeline by stockpiling players in the reserves. It increases costs and blocks younger players' development. For what? Just to make the standings look good?"

"Our squad needs a clear direction. The future of European football will be fast-paced and high-intensity. Look at Eriksson's Lazio—all those stars playing such soft football. What's the use?"

"If it were up to me, I wouldn't change the system. Stick with a 4-2-3-1. Replace Hasselbaink with a powerful target man and Valerón with a modern playmaker. The wingers need to be sharp enough to tear apart defenses. The two holding midfielders must ensure solidity in midfield and protect the backline."

"Our fullbacks must be balanced, capable of attacking and defending. Capdevila can stay, but Gaspar has to go."

"And center-backs? We need height. How many times have we been dominated by tall strikers this season?"

Yang Hao let his frustrations pour out, almost wanting to confront whoever had built the current squad.

"Who assembled this team? Let them come forward, and I'll deal with them myself!"

Miguel Gil coughed awkwardly and glanced away, muttering, "Actually, many of these signings were arranged by the old man."

Ah…

Yang Hao mentally slapped himself—he should've known.

"The ideas you're proposing are exciting," Miguel said hesitantly, "but wouldn't they cost a lot of money?"

Yang Hao chuckled.

"Not at all. You don't need additional investment. Just give me the funds from player sales to work with. I guarantee it'll be more than enough. In fact, we'll even save on wages."

"If we manage the budget well, we might even leave a surplus of around 10 million euros for the board."

Miguel's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Right now, Atlético desperately needed money.

"Absolutely," Yang Hao assured him. "I promise, whether or not we stay in La Liga, give me three years, and I'll achieve what Sachi, Ranieri, and Antic couldn't."

Ranieri's goal was to build a second Valencia at Atlético within three years.

Yang Hao's situation was even more challenging, but he was brimming with confidence.

Why?

Because he already had specific players in mind.

For example, the target man. Fernando Torres was too young and needed more time to develop.

And what better candidate for a marquee signing than Adriano?

If a transcendent forward like Adriano—capable of dominating Serie A defenders like Nesta and Maldini—were unleashed in La Liga, the impact would be staggering.

Remember how Christian Vieri terrorized La Liga defenders during his time at Atlético?

Just the thought was exhilarating.

This was what being a time traveler was all about—shaping history to perfection.

Yang Hao painted an inspiring vision of Atlético's future for Miguel Gil during their flight, enticing him to pledge full support for Yang's continued tenure, regardless of the season's outcome. Together, they outlined a bright blueprint for Atlético's revival.

Meanwhile, Valencia was also en route back home on the same air corridor, though on a different flight. Onboard, Héctor Cúper was engrossed in strategizing for their next game against Yang Hao's Atlético Madrid with his assistants, José María Bianco and Mario Gómez.

The players were resting, but fitness coach Juan Manuel Alfano shared his assessment:

Valencia's squad had endured consecutive grueling matches—against Sevilla and Lazio—leaving their fitness levels drained. With a lack of depth for significant squad rotation, Valencia had been forced to rely on minor adjustments. On the other hand, Atlético had a full week of rest and preparation.

"This match gives us no choice," said Cúper, firmly.

After hearing Alfano's report, Cúper set the tone for the upcoming clash: there was no room for error.

Real Zaragoza, Valencia's direct competitor for the final Champions League spot, faced Numancia—a less threatening opponent—and were expected to win. Should Valencia fail to secure victory, the gap between them and Zaragoza could widen to seven points with only four rounds remaining.

Cúper's conclusion was clear: to keep their Champions League hopes alive, Valencia needed nothing less than a win at home against Atlético.

Conversely, for Atlético, a draw would be an acceptable outcome in their quest for survival. This disparity in stakes tipped the tactical balance in favor of the visitors.

"From their match against Málaga, it's clear Atlético's high-press opening can be effective," Mario Gómez observed with some concern.

In just two games under Yang Hao, Atlético had shown surprising tactical adaptability. The young coach was proving unpredictable—a challenge for Valencia's preparation.

"I don't fear them pressing high!" Cúper declared with confidence.

At this peak of his coaching career, the Argentine had recently guided Mallorca to the Cup Winners' Cup final and now led Valencia to the Champions League quarterfinals, earning widespread acclaim. His confidence brimmed, and his ambitions soared.

"If they press high, it plays into our hands," Bianco agreed.

Cúper smiled confidently. "I watched their match against Barcelona. While their flank attacks were well-designed and exploited Barça's vulnerabilities, we are not Barcelona!"

Valencia's midfield diamond featured a robust defensive setup: Mendieta, Kily González, and Farinós were all versatile players with strong tactical discipline and defensive awareness. Defending their flanks wouldn't be as simple for Atlético as it was against Barça.

Valencia's defensive depth, collective organization, and players' commitment to tracking back were levels above Barcelona's.

"Our midfield can easily shift Mendieta and Farinós centrally to support Gerard in protecting the flanks," Cúper explained.

The team nodded in agreement.

As for their right flank, they had Angloma, a seasoned French international. Despite being 35, Angloma was as reliable as ever, and on the left, another veteran, Carboni, was equally dependable.

"Our focus should be on securing an early goal," Cúper emphasized.

Given Valencia's fatigue and their need to avoid a prolonged battle, the game plan was clear: strike quickly, take the lead, and let their renowned defensive counterattacking prowess take over.

"This match will be decided in the first half!" Cúper declared emphatically.

Two weeks earlier, at the Mestalla, Cúper had vowed to finish Lazio in the first leg. Valencia delivered a stunning 5–2 victory that shocked the football world.

Now, facing a relegation-threatened Atlético, many expected Valencia to repeat that level of dominance.

...

On the night of April 21st, the Mestalla Stadium buzzed with anticipation.

As Yang Hao reviewed Valencia's starting lineup, his thoughts were swift:

Cúper is stubborn.

Cúper is fearless.

Cúper reminds me of Manchester United.

Valencia's 4-4-2 lineup was identical to the one that dismantled Lazio. Cúper's intent was clear: maintain momentum and secure three points at all costs.

Would that strategy work against Yang Hao's Atlético?

The battle was about to begin.

The Albelda experiment, shaped by Valencia's 4-4-2 diamond midfield, hadn't proven as effective as Gerard. Nicknamed "Little Guardiola," Gerard emerged from La Masia as a natural number four.

Cúper's stubbornness shone through when he refused to alter his setup. Barcelona's single defensive midfielder had crumbled against Atlético, but Cúper trusted his system would stand strong.

A team often mirrors its coach, and Valencia's resilience and grit reflected Cúper's iron will.

The comparison to Ferguson's Manchester United arose naturally—both teams employed the diamond 4-4-2 midfield.

United's setup featured Keane as the holding midfielder, Beckham and Giggs on the wings, and Scholes as the advanced playmaker. In contrast, Valencia had Gerard anchoring the midfield, with Mendieta and Kily González on the flanks, and Farinós in a more advanced role.

But the differences were stark.

United's legendary midfield quartet was hailed as one of the greatest, offering defensive solidity, creative passing, wing play, precise crosses, long-range distribution, and late attacking runs.

Valencia's midfielders were versatile and balanced but fell short when compared to United's stars.

Could Kily González's dribbling rival Giggs?

Was Farinós's passing and off-the-ball movement comparable to Scholes?

And Mendieta's style had little in common with Beckham's pinpoint crossing and wide play.

Valencia's attack, while solid in La Liga, lacked the sparkle of a team like United.

Yet Yang Hao refused to underestimate them.

As the players returned to the visitor's locker room at the Mestalla after their warmup, Yang Hao awaited them.

Behind him, a tactics board displayed Valencia's starting lineup:

Goalkeeper: Cañizares;

Defense: Carboni, Pellegrino, Djukic, Angloma;

Midfield: Gerard as the defensive anchor, Kily González and Mendieta on the flanks, Farinós in an advanced role;

Forwards: Claudio López and Angulo.

A textbook Valencia 4-4-2.

When all the players had settled, Yang Hao clapped the board, a sly grin on his face.

"Notice something?" he asked. "Cúper and Valencia are mocking us."

"They haven't made a single adjustment to their lineup or strategy. Why? Because they believe—no, they're certain—we can't touch them tonight."

His gaze swept the room, landing on each player.

For this crucial game, Yang had made some adjustments to the starting eleven to suit their defensive-counterattacking strategy.

He had set a trap for Cúper, a pitfall he was confident Valencia would stumble into. The question was whether Atlético could bury them deep enough.

"As I said earlier, Valencia will push forward aggressively. They have no choice. They'll attack us like they did Lazio, pressing high and hard from the very first whistle. They'll try to overwhelm us with suffocating pressure and score early."

"But they're wrong. We've prepared all week for this."

Two consecutive wins under Yang Hao had given him credibility in the locker room. The players were listening—this time, even Czech midfielder Bejbl, making his first appearance since Yang's arrival. Pablo García would be ready on the bench if needed.

"I'll say it again—I'm not here for a draw. I want a win. But the key is surviving their opening blitz. If we stay calm and composed through their initial onslaught, Valencia will be nothing more than a juicy piece of meat on our cutting board. We'll slice them however we like. Understood?"

"Understood!" the players replied in unison.

Pleased, Yang Hao continued, "Valencia isn't as formidable as they seem. You'll see that for yourselves during the game. And when you do, you'll believe me when I say this: tonight's victory belongs to us!"

"Valencia just made the Champions League semifinals, right? Then let's show the world tonight—we're stronger than a Champions League semifinalist!"

"Yes!" the players roared back.

When Cúper first saw Atlético's starting lineup, he doubted his own eyes.

The reliable double-pivot partnership of Baraja and Pablo García had been split up. With Bejbl recovering from injury, he reclaimed his spot in the starting eleven.

Right-back Gaspar was also benched, replaced by Fresnedoso.

But the real question was—what position would this veteran midfielder from Atlético's Double-Winning era play?

As the match was about to start and both teams lined up, Cúper was shocked once again.

Atlético Starting XI:

Goalkeeper: Molina

Defense: Capdevila, Santi Denia, Gamarra, Aguilera

Midfield: Bejbl and Baraja as a double pivot, with Solari, Valerón, and Fresnedoso ahead

Forward: Hasselbaink

What surprised Cúper most was Fresnedoso's role as a right-sided attacker, while Aguilera, who had performed well in previous matches, dropped back to play as a right-back.

Could Aguilera, as a veteran, handle the right-back position?

The answer was yes—his versatility made him more than capable.

But Fresnedoso was far less threatening offensively than Aguilera.

Cúper realized that his opponent had switched things up again.

Against Barcelona and Málaga, Yang Hao had employed two different tactical approaches while sticking to the same 4-2-3-1 formation. Tonight, at the Mestalla, he seemed to be doubling down on the same approach.

This kid is getting too comfortable with his experiments!

A flicker of frustration crossed Cúper's face.

While Atlético's adjustments made him uneasy, it was too late to change Valencia's game plan. Everything had already been decided, and his players were mentally locked into the strategy.

Determined, Cúper stepped to the touchline and gestured to his players to increase their attacking intensity right from the start. He wanted an early goal—it was the only way to settle the nerves.

The moment the whistle blew, Valencia surged forward.

Claudio López and Angulo used their pace to target Atlético's defensive line.

With their three lines pushed high up the pitch, Valencia played like a team on a mission, their every movement oozing desperation and determination.

Watching from the sideline, Yang Hao couldn't help but acknowledge: Cúper's decisive aggression far outshines Eriksson's caution.

But Atlético had prepared for this.

Their midfield pulled back to compress space, and even Hasselbaink, the lone striker, harassed Valencia's center-backs, Pellegrino and Djukic.

Valencia's initial thrust ran straight into Atlético's well-drilled defensive wall.

From the first clash, it was clear that Atlético had a meticulously planned counter-strategy.

Cúper soon noticed the defensive setup that Yang Hao had employed.

The Argentine manager's brow furrowed deeply as he realized that Atlético would not be as easy to break as he had anticipated.

Although Yang Hao's team appeared to line up in a 4-2-3-1, there was a subtle shift in the defensive phase.

The key adjustment was Bejbl.

When defending, the Czech midfielder often dropped deep to align with the two center-backs, forming a back three inside the penalty area.

This created a stable defensive triangle, designed specifically to neutralize Valencia's two strikers, Claudio López and Angulo.

Cúper finally understood why Yang Hao had chosen Bejbl over Pablo García.

Bejbl's ability to play both as a defensive midfielder and a center-back made him the perfect fit for this hybrid role. It was clear that Atlético had drilled this setup extensively in training before committing to it.

But if Bejbl dropped back, wouldn't that leave Baraja isolated in midfield?

No—Solari and Fresnedoso were instructed to tuck inside, forming a makeshift three-man midfield. Meanwhile, the full-backs pushed higher to cover Valencia's wingers, Mendieta and Kily González.

The result was a massive defensive "net" that caught every Valencia attack in its web.

Making matters worse for Valencia were their aging full-backs. At 35, both Angloma and Carboni had struggled with the physical toll of recent matches. Now, asked to push forward to support the attack, their effectiveness was limited.

Standing on the sideline, Cúper's expression darkened.

This kid has set a trap for me—and I walked right into it.

But it was too late to backtrack. Even knowing it was a trap, Valencia had no choice but to press on.

Cúper stepped to the sideline once more and made an emphatic gesture, urging Carboni and Angloma to push higher.

With Atlético playing only a single striker, there was no reason for his full-backs to hold back.

All-out attack. Overwhelm them. Crush them.

"Cúper deserves his reputation," Yang Hao admitted, feeling the tension rise.

His tactical setup was sound, but that didn't guarantee victory on the pitch.

"Fortune favors the brave," as they say.

Valencia's relentless aggression was a show of force designed to rattle Atlético, creating opportunities through sheer willpower.

Yang Hao's defensive strategy bore a striking resemblance to one of football's most iconic matches.

Yes—the 2000 Champions League Final between Real Madrid and Valencia.

In that legendary match, Vicente del Bosque had dug a deep pit for Héctor Cúper—and buried him in it.

Del Bosque's tactical masterstroke was the use of a 5-3-2 formation. Yang Hao's current approach with Atlético was an adaptation of this same setup, tailored to fit his squad's characteristics.

Many believed that Real Madrid's 3-0 victory in the 2000 Champions League final was due to a vast difference in quality between the two sides. But that wasn't true.

Valencia wasn't far behind Madrid in terms of squad strength. In fact, during that same La Liga season, Valencia had defeated Real Madrid 3-2 at the Bernabéu and secured a 1-1 draw at the Mestalla—proof of how evenly matched they were.

Some might even argue that Valencia had the upper hand.

So why did Real Madrid achieve such a lopsided victory in the final?

The answer was simple: Valencia's tactics were completely countered by Del Bosque.

Del Bosque is often portrayed as a "nice guy" manager, beloved by galácticos during his tenure at Real Madrid and later seen as simply carrying over Barcelona's system with Spain.

This reputation led some to underestimate his tactical acumen. But to win two Champions League titles with Real Madrid—especially the 2000 final, with its intense tactical battles against managers like Cúper and Ferguson—Del Bosque demonstrated his ability to adapt and outthink the best.

Later, as Spain's coach, his reliance on Barcelona's style wasn't just blind imitation—it was a calculated decision to build on the strongest foundation available at the time.

For those who think Del Bosque's Spain merely mirrored Barcelona, consider this: even within Spain, Barcelona's system was unique. Were there any other Spanish teams that played like them?

Del Bosque's Spanish team may have resembled Barcelona on the surface, but the execution was entirely different.

Returning to the 2000 Champions League final, Real Madrid effectively rendered Valencia powerless.

If Yang Hao remembered correctly, Valencia had only one shot on target in the entire game—and it wasn't threatening. Meanwhile, Madrid's counterattacks consistently tore through Valencia, with double-digit chances created.

This dominance gave some casual observers the mistaken impression that Madrid was pressing Valencia for the entire match.

In truth, Madrid sat back and hit Valencia on the counter.

Watching that match as a fan, Yang Hao had been puzzled: why did Valencia seem to dominate the midfield but crumble when they approached Madrid's 30-yard zone? Why did their promising build-ups always break down at the critical moment?

In hindsight, the answer was clear.

Valencia lacked a player who could hold the ball in key areas and create opportunities for others—a true playmaking core.

They needed someone like Valerón, Aimar, or Zidane to fill that role.

This was Valencia's Achilles' heel.

As Valencia's forces surged forward at the Mestalla, their fans erupted in cheers.

With their team flying high and facing relegation-threatened Atlético, what could go wrong?

Over 50,000 Valencia supporters packed the stadium, expecting a goal-fest against Atlético.

Snacks were ready, beers were poured—the feast was about to begin.

For the first 10 minutes, Valencia relentlessly attacked, pushing their entire squad forward.

Carboni and Angloma stationed themselves high up the pitch, and Atlético was forced to retreat into their own 30-yard zone. From the stands, it looked like Valencia was about to break through at any moment.

But Yang Hao stood calmly on the sidelines.

Despite the apparent pressure, Valencia's attacks lacked genuine threat.

Without a creative attacking midfielder to unlock defenses or a dominant striker to impose himself in the penalty area, their offensive efforts were hollow.

Neither Claudio López nor Angulo posed a significant threat against Atlético's compact, disciplined backline. Both thrived on counterattacks, but against a deep-lying defense, they struggled to create chances.

As the game progressed, Atlético's players began to realize that Valencia wasn't as formidable as they had seemed. Confidence grew, and their play became more composed.

Meanwhile, Valencia's players started to show signs of impatience.

The two teams' contrasting strategies—Atlético's cautious defense versus Valencia's urgent push for an early goal—were beginning to shape the match.

On the sideline, Yang Hao continually gestured for his players to stay calm and focused.

Cúper, by contrast, maintained a stoic demeanor on the Valencia bench.

For commentators, this created a misleading narrative:

"Atlético is on the brink of collapse. Valencia is just a step away from scoring."

"Yang Hao's inexperience is showing. He still has a lot to learn from seasoned managers like Cúper, especially when it comes to composure."

"To be fair, Atlético's defense has been solid, but defense alone won't win this match."

"Here comes another Valencia attack. Angloma advances on the right, with Capdevila stepping up to defend."

"Angloma passes to Mendieta and continues his run to the byline."

"Mendieta lays it back—give-and-go!"

"But Santi Denia intercepts with a timely tackle, cutting out the danger."

"The ball is cleared to Capdevila, and Atlético begins a counterattack."

When Capdevila received the ball near the left sideline just outside his own penalty area, there wasn't a Valencia defender close by.

The Spanish left-back controlled the ball, catching a glimpse of Mendieta out of the corner of his eye.

Moments earlier, Mendieta had cut inside to open space for Angloma on the flank, but he was now sprinting toward the left side to press Capdevila. Behind him, Angloma was closing in, seemingly looking to challenge for possession.

Capdevila knew he only had a brief moment to act. He scanned the pitch and noticed how Valencia's relentless pressure had pushed Atlético's entire defensive formation deep into their penalty area. This left only two players forward for Atlético: Hasselbaink and Valerón.

But Valerón, positioned in the middle 30-yard zone, lacked the speed for a counterattack.

Hasselbaink, however, was frantically waving his arms, calling for the ball, shouting to Capdevila that he was ready.

Capdevila didn't hesitate. Planting his right foot, he swung his left, delivering a perfectly lofted long ball into the vacant space behind Valencia's defensive line.

Like a black arrow, Hasselbaink surged forward.

Mauricio Pellegrino, towering and imposing, was too far away to intervene. Miroslav Djukic, however, was closer and tracking the Dutch forward step for step.

But Hasselbaink wasn't your average striker. A hardened product of lower-league football, he carried a wild, unpredictable edge, playing by his own chaotic rules.

As he started his sprint, he threw his shoulder into Djukic, catching him off guard. The collision sent Djukic stumbling, momentarily losing his balance. Meanwhile, Hasselbaink charged forward, undeterred.

Furious, Djukic tried to recover, but Hasselbaink had already gained a critical advantage.

Capdevila's lofted ball bounced into Valencia's defensive third, and as it rose again, goalkeeper Santiago Cañizares advanced toward the edge of the box. Djukic trailed a step behind, while Pellegrino was nowhere near.

Cañizares quickly retreated, knowing he couldn't use his hands outside the box.

Djukic attempted to close down Hasselbaink, but the wily striker positioned himself perfectly, using his body to shield the ball. Djukic had no choice but to slow down, looking for a moment to intervene.

Hasselbaink didn't try to control the ball immediately. Instead, he let it bounce again as he calculated his angle. Finally, with impeccable timing, he stepped into the path of the ball and struck it with his right foot—a powerful, thunderous shot.

The ball flew like an arrow, skimming past Cañizares and slamming into Valencia's net.

"GOALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!"

"In the 21st minute, Atlético Madrid strikes on a lightning-quick counterattack!"

"This is only Atlético's second shot of the game, but what a way to capitalize!"

"Hasselbaink, with his pace and raw power, punishes Valencia's overly aggressive press. Credit to Capdevila for the vision and precision of that long ball. This is a textbook counterattack!"

"Valencia had been piling on the pressure, dominating possession, but now it's Atlético who are celebrating! The hosts have been caught off guard."

"Valencia pressed too high, too hard—and they've paid the price."

Yang Hao clenched his fists as the ball rippled the net, his face lighting up with unrestrained joy. He began throwing mock punches in the technical area, unable to contain his excitement.

On the pitch, Hasselbaink celebrated by sprinting toward the sidelines, roaring into the TV cameras before embracing his ecstatic teammates.

To everyone's surprise, the Dutchman continued his celebratory dash past Valencia's dugout and toward the visiting coach's technical area, where he gave Yang Hao a jubilant bear hug.

Other Atlético players soon joined in, surrounding their young coach in a wave of celebration.

"Boss," Hasselbaink grinned widely, his white teeth flashing, "did you see the look on Cúper's face? Priceless!"

Yang Hao chuckled, patting him on the back. "Oh, it'll sting at first, but don't worry. Keep this up, and he'll get used to it soon enough."

Hasselbaink laughed heartily. "Then I'll make sure he remembers me!"

As the players began to break away, Yang Hao seized the moment to issue a reminder.

"Listen up—Valencia is going to hit back hard. Be ready for an aggressive response, especially in midfield. Hold your ground!"

His gaze fixed on Valerón, who nodded firmly. "Don't worry, Boss. Leave it to me!"

Valerón had been gaining confidence with each match under Yang Hao's leadership, and tonight was no exception.

Yang Hao raised his voice for the whole team: "Stay sharp, stay disciplined. Let's build on this lead. Keep going!"

The goal completely shifted the dynamics of the match.

Before, it seemed inevitable that Valencia would score first. Now, the hosts found themselves chasing the game.

And their response? Sheer desperation.

Valencia launched a series of frantic attacks, flooding Atlético's half with bodies. But their eagerness to equalize only left them more vulnerable to Atlético's counterattacks.

For the first time, the pressure wasn't on Yang Hao's side—it was on Cúper's.

At the Mestalla, the waves were growing rougher—but for Yang Hao, the storm only meant one thing: bigger fish to catch.

As the match unfolded in 2000, Yang Hao realized that many in this era—even within European football—had yet to grasp the full importance of controlling the tempo of a game.

This didn't mean matches lacked rhythm.

On the contrary, players like Guardiola, Redondo, Zidane, and Valerón excelled at managing a game's pace. But the broader footballing world didn't yet fully appreciate the strategic value of controlling tempo; decisions were still guided more by experience and instinct than by precision.

This mindset was evident in how Guardiola was shown the door at Barcelona at just 29 and how Redondo was let go by Real Madrid at 31.

A key factor was that football tactics at the time were relatively rudimentary—less refined and sophisticated compared to what they would become by 2023. In the modern game, players like Modrić or David Silva, capable of dictating tempo, were cherished as priceless gems.

Within Héctor Cúper's Valencia, the responsibility of anchoring the midfield fell to Gerard López, nicknamed "Little Guardiola." But Yang Hao knew this moniker was misleading.

Gerard stood at 1.86 meters, boasted solid defensive capabilities, decent technical skills, and could carry the ball forward. However, he wasn't particularly quick, nor was he an elite passer despite coming from Barcelona's famed youth system.

What set Gerard apart was his knack for making late runs into the box, as shown in his hat-trick performance against Lazio. Defensively, though, he was less reliable than Albelda.

In other words, Gerard wasn't a true deep-lying playmaker.

This limitation was partly why, despite a high-profile move to Barcelona, he soon lost his place, experimenting with roles as a central midfielder, wide midfielder, and even defender—all without success.

Among Valencia's midfield quartet, Mendieta was the offensive core but wasn't a tempo-setting player. His style carried a certain rough, aggressive edge. While his physicality worked in La Liga, it proved ineffective in Serie A.

Ultimately, none of Valencia's midfielders could effectively control the tempo.

This manifested on the pitch as growing impatience. The faster they tried to play, the more errors they made. If they had a calm, cerebral playmaker to slow things down and reset the rhythm, the dynamic could have been entirely different.

In the 39th minute, one of these lapses became costly.

As Valencia pressed into Atlético's half, Kily González attempted a rushed pass to Farinós under pressure from Fresnedoso. The ball was overhit, leading to a turnover.

Baraja intercepted and immediately played the ball forward to Valerón.

Finding himself unmarked, the Spanish midfielder didn't panic. Instead of rushing a forward pass, he held onto the ball, allowing the tempo to drop. After a few steps to the left, he spotted Solari moving into space and delivered the ball wide.

Valencia's right side was suddenly exposed.

Solari sprinted forward, beating Angloma to the ball. The 35-year-old fullback, despite his experience, simply couldn't match the younger Argentine's pace.

Driving down the left flank, Solari reached the edge of the box, where he faced Djukic. With a clever feint, he abruptly stopped, then accelerated past the defender toward the byline, sending a low cross into the center.

Hasselbaink timed his run perfectly, getting in front of Pellegrino and sliding in to connect with the ball. His shot ripped into Valencia's net.

Two goals for Hasselbaink!

"GOALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!"

"The 39th minute, and Atlético Madrid strike again! What a devastating counterattack!"

"Solari's blistering run down the left sets up Hasselbaink for a brilliant finish. That's two goals now for the Dutchman, and Valencia are reeling!"

"Who could have predicted this? Valencia have dominated possession, but it's Atlético who are making every opportunity count!"

On the touchline, Yang Hao couldn't contain himself. He leaped into the air, punching the sky in celebration.

He knew his strategy had laid a trap, but even he hadn't anticipated reeling in such a big catch so soon.

"Two goals in the first half—unbelievable," Yang Hao thought, almost in disbelief. He had prepared for a battle to be decided in the second half, but football, as always, was unpredictable.

Goals couldn't be calculated like probabilities.

Yang Hao's realization deepened: in professional football, as long as you did the right things and forced your opponents into mistakes, even a team as strong as Valencia, coached by a tactician as renowned as Cúper, could crumble.

For a moment, Yang Hao felt an almost primal urge to shout to the heavens.

A newfound sense of confidence and ambition surged within him.

At that moment, he believed more strongly than ever that he could save Atlético from relegation.

If he could outmaneuver top-tier tacticians like Cúper and Van Gaal, what else was there to fear?

Behind him, Juanma Lillo, awestruck, broke the silence.

"I'm starting to believe we might actually pull off survival," he said, his voice filled with a mix of wonder and admiration.

Though Atlético's style tonight wasn't Lillo's preferred brand of football, he couldn't help but respect the brilliance and determination radiating from both the team and their young coach.

When referee Antonio Ándres blew the final whistle, Mestalla Stadium was filled with groans of despair.

Miguel Gil and Paulo Futre sat in the VIP section, suppressing their overwhelming excitement with difficulty.

They longed to rush down to the pitch and celebrate wildly with the Atlético players.

But they couldn't.

Seated next to them were Valencia's president Cortés and other senior executives.

1-3.

By convention, the home team's score is listed first. This scoreline shocked everyone.

Before the match, no one—no matter how wild their imagination—could have predicted such an outcome.

It was unbelievable, to the point of being absurd.

In European competition, Valencia had been nearly unstoppable. How could they be trounced like this on their home ground?

Yet those familiar with La Liga knew that this wasn't a fixed match.

No one could afford Valencia's price for throwing a game. The stakes were simply too high. A spot in the Champions League meant tens of millions of euros in revenue—far too much to gamble with.

The match's intensity proved both teams gave it their all.

In the first half, Atlético took a two-goal lead with Hasselbaink's brace.

In the second half, Valencia launched another ferocious assault. Yet, just minutes after the restart, their defense crumbled once more.

Baraja intercepted a pass in midfield and quickly sent the ball to the right. Aguilera surged past Fresnedoso, carried the ball to Valencia's right flank, and delivered a pass to Hasselbaink near the corner of the penalty box.

Unable to turn under pressure from Pellegrino, the Dutch striker cleverly laid the ball back to Aguilera, who had darted into the penalty area. The captain chipped it delicately across the goal, where Valerón met it with a close-range header to make it 3-0.

This goal shattered Valencia's spirit.

Cúper responded by substituting Gerard with Albelda, seeking to strengthen the midfield's defensive solidity. The change helped stabilize Valencia's defense, and their stars began to create chances.

Mendieta, with a brilliant individual effort, found López in the box. The striker slotted home to pull one back for Valencia, giving their fans a glimmer of hope.

It was only the 63rd minute.

With renewed confidence, Valencia pressed hard, but Yang Hao countered with two substitutions in the 65th and 70th minutes, shoring up Atlético's defense and restoring their composure. The match entered a stalemate.

By the 81st minute, even Mendieta appeared to be running on fumes, forcing Cúper into another substitution.

From that point on, the match was essentially over.

In the end, Atlético triumphed 3-1 away at Mestalla, securing yet another precious victory.

"He did it, Paulo. He really did it!"

Miguel Gil clutched Paulo Futre's hand, his voice trembling with emotion.

The Portuguese legend felt equally overwhelmed. His deep connection with Atlético made the moment all the more poignant.

"Everyone thought I was duped by Yang Hao," Miguel Gil exclaimed, his emotions spilling over. "But they didn't hear what he said to me. Do they think I'm stupid? Without genuine talent, how could he have convinced me?"

Clearly, he had bottled up these thoughts for a long time. Now, he could finally let them out.

If nothing else, Yang Hao had proven himself through these last three matches.

From now on, who could doubt the wisdom of hiring him?

"This is beyond imagination," Futre admitted, his voice filled with mixed emotions.

No one could have foreseen this.

Back when Yang Hao was appointed, most of Atlético's management thought it was a reckless gamble—including Futre himself.

Now, that very gamble was saving Atlético.

Even if the team ultimately failed to avoid relegation, Yang Hao had already earned the respect of the footballing world.

After the final whistle, Cúper walked over to shake Yang Hao's hand. The arrogant demeanor from their pre-match handshake was gone. Instead, his expression now bore signs of resignation and humility.

"Your team performed brilliantly tonight. You deserved the win," said Cúper, demonstrating true sportsmanship.

Yang Hao's impression of the Argentine improved significantly.

"Thank you. Your players have been fighting on multiple fronts—Champions League and league matches. The toll is understandable."

Cúper offered a faint smile. He recognized this as a kind gesture, but as a seasoned professional, he knew the truth: Valencia had been outplayed.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What inspired you to use tonight's tactics?"

Cúper's gaze was piercing, his eyes fixed on Yang Hao as if trying to discern even the slightest hint of deception.

Even in defeat, he was determined to understand how he'd been bested.

"Intuition," Yang Hao replied without hesitation.

"Intuition?" Cúper's voice rose, a note of surprise evident.

"I spent the entire week reviewing countless matches of Valencia this season," Yang Hao explained with a composed smile. "I focused particularly on key victories and losses. Based on those observations, I thought using tonight's strategy—countering your counterattacks with a defensive counterattack of our own—might work."

He grinned. "Turns out, I bet right."

Using magic to defeat magic.

Really?

Cúper studied Yang Hao, his expression skeptical. He didn't voice his doubts but found it hard to believe that Yang Hao had simply gambled.

A gambler wouldn't display the resolve and determination that Yang Hao and Atlético did.

Before Atlético's first goal—and even after it—Valencia had been forcing Atlético into desperate situations. One misplaced Valencia pass would have doomed the visitors.

Under such pressure, a gambler's resolve would have cracked. Yet Yang Hao remained steadfast, as did his players. This consistency suggested they had been thoroughly prepared. Yang Hao had likely outlined every possible challenge to the team during pre-match preparations, achieving total buy-in from the players.

Was this really just a gamble?

Cúper suspected Yang Hao was downplaying his tactical acumen to make Valencia's loss easier to swallow.

He decided to drop the subject.

"Good luck, young man," Cúper said as he bid farewell. "After tonight, your survival chances will drastically improve. But remember, your future opponents will take you far more seriously. I genuinely hope you can lead Atlético to safety. That would be a legendary achievement."

Yang Hao nodded slightly. "Thank you."

Throughout their interaction, Cúper's face remained stern and humorless. He was a rigid, methodical individual, but undeniably an excellent coach.

In the past, Yang Hao's opinion of Cúper had been tainted by his loyalty to Ronaldo, whose career at Inter had been marred by clashes with the Argentine manager. However, as Yang Hao delved deeper into football history, he began to admire Cúper's accomplishments.

During this pivotal period in football history, Cúper had guided two clubs to three consecutive European finals, albeit without ever securing the title.

After tonight, Yang Hao could no longer dislike him.

Valencia's Mestalla Stadium exploded with reactions across Spain as the match ended.

Online, forums and news sites were flooded with discussions. Headlines reporting Atlético's 3-1 victory over Valencia ignited a firestorm.

Few had expected such a result.

Atlético's victory—complete with three unanswered goals—was unequivocal and undeniable.

Pre-match predictions had largely dismissed Atlético's chances. Critics had doubted Yang Hao's two prior wins, attributing them to weak opposition: a cup match against Barcelona and a league win over Málaga, both seen as lacking substance.

Now, against a formidable Valencia, Atlético's win silenced the doubters.

Yang Hao's name became a trending topic across sports websites and forums.

Fans and analysts alike marveled at how a 25-year-old rookie manager had accomplished what seasoned tacticians like Ranieri and Antic could not.

Experts flooded columns and blogs with praise, crediting Yang Hao as the architect of Atlético's three-match winning streak. They emphasized his ability to tailor unique strategies for each opponent, labeling his work a masterclass in the art of coaching.

"Against Valencia, anyone who watched the match would remember it vividly. Atlético's defense was watertight, leaving Valencia no room to breathe," one commentator noted.

"Valencia managed 16 attempts on goal but landed just one on target—a solitary goal."

"This wasn't a case of poor Valencia finishing; it was a testament to Atlético's meticulously targeted defensive tactics."

"Under Yang Hao's direction, Atlético neutralized every threat, including Mendieta, López, and Angulo. Valencia's renowned attack was completely stifled."

Yang Hao's tactical brilliance now commanded widespread admiration. In a matter of weeks, he had become a rising star in Spanish football.

However, as his fame grew, so did curiosity about his background.

Media outlets scrambled to gather information, only to discover a surprising gap. Since taking charge of Atlético, Yang Hao had avoided press conferences and interviews, frustrated by earlier dismissive coverage.

Now, there wasn't a single in-depth article or exclusive interview about Yang Hao anywhere.

Journalists eager to lavish praise were left grasping at straws, unsure where to begin.

Amid this frenzy, Cúper inadvertently came to their rescue.

At the post-match press conference, when asked for his thoughts on the game, the Valencia coach admitted that Atlético had deserved their victory. However, he maintained confidence in Valencia's chances of qualifying for the Champions League.

"I am absolutely certain we'll secure our spot."

When asked about Yang Hao, Cúper didn't hold back.

"I spoke with him briefly after the match," he said. "Frankly, I don't know how to describe him. Football has produced many extraordinary talents on the pitch. Yang Hao is undoubtedly a genius—just one who belongs on the touchline."

Yang Hao was officially a sensation!

When he first took over Atlético Madrid, no one could have imagined this outcome.

Overnight, Yang Hao's name was on everyone's lips across Spain.

By the next morning, the Spanish media was abuzz with reports on him and his Atlético Madrid. After securing victories against Barcelona, Málaga, and Valencia—three formidable opponents—the team had gone from months without a single win to an astonishing three-game streak.

All the attention centered on one undeniable factor: Yang Hao.

The transformation in Atlético Madrid's fortunes was credited entirely to him.

Even more remarkable was the praise from Héctor Cúper, a coach notoriously difficult to impress. Cúper's statement after the match, declaring Yang Hao a "genius on the touchline," sent ripples through the football world.

Whether Cúper's words were a genuine compliment or a bid to soften the blow of his team's loss, the impact was the same: if a respected coach like Cúper said it, it had to mean something.

At just 25 years old, Yang Hao had become the youngest head coach in La Liga history, and his accomplishments were turning heads everywhere. Fans and the media, previously critical and dismissive, were now re-evaluating their earlier judgments.

But nothing captured this shift in perception better than the bizarre incident at the gates of Atlético's training ground in Majadahonda the next morning.

"Wait, what?"

Yang Hao was puzzled to see Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink looking unusually sullen during the team's morning recovery session. When he pressed for an explanation, he learned about a comical misunderstanding outside the training ground earlier that morning.

After his two-goal performance the previous night, Hasselbaink had assumed the crowd of journalists and fans gathered outside Majadahonda was there to interview and celebrate him.

Driving up to the gate, Hasselbaink even rolled down his car window, smiling and waving at the media. He was practically screaming, "Come interview me!"

But instead of flocking to the Dutch striker, the journalists asked if he could help them arrange an interview with Yang Hao.

Hasselbaink's smile vanished instantly. His face darkened, and he grumbled something along the lines of, "I don't know. Go ask someone else." Then he drove off in a huff.

"How did you find out about this?" Yang Hao asked Parrales, the team's sharp-eyed physio.

Parrales smirked. "The security guard at the gate told me. He said he saw the whole thing."

Yang Hao chuckled in disbelief. The security guard seemed to know everything that happened at Majadahonda, and apparently, he liked Parrales enough to spill all the juicy details.

As for Hasselbaink, the temperamental forward clearly needed reassurance. Yang Hao decided he would have a chat with the Dutchman later to smooth things over. After all, Atlético would be facing Barcelona twice in the coming matches, and Hasselbaink was crucial to the team's chances.

Still, Yang Hao couldn't help but feel secretly pleased.

Hasselbaink was La Liga's top scorer. And yet, somehow, Yang Hao was stealing the spotlight.

"Did the media leave yet?" Yang Hao asked, mulling over whether to make a public appearance or lie low.

"They're gone," Parrales replied. "The security guard told them you've been living at the training ground since you took over as head coach. Said you're always studying your opponents and working tirelessly. He told them he'd never seen such a dedicated and hardworking coach."

Yang Hao froze, feeling a mix of pride and embarrassment.

Sure, he lived at the training ground—but not out of pure devotion to his craft. The truth was far less noble: it was a way to save money and avoid unnecessary hassle.

Having physically "time-traveled" into this world with no savings to his name, Yang Hao had initially scraped by in a rented apartment. When the club's facilities offered free room and board, it was an obvious upgrade.

But who was he to correct the security guard's narrative?

To Parrales and the rest of the staff, Yang Hao's relentless work ethic explained how he had tailored such precise tactics for the team's last three matches.

To them, Yang Hao was the workaholic king of La Liga.

"Well," Parrales added, "the journalists bought it. They think you're too busy to leave, so they left."

Yang Hao sighed, half-relieved and half-amused. He would have to let the story spread—it wasn't entirely untrue, after all.

But first, he had to address Hasselbaink's bruised ego.

Yang Hao didn't particularly enjoy dealing with temperamental players, but he had no choice. Hasselbaink was the team's best striker, and without him, Atlético's offense would be toothless.

Fortunately, rumors were swirling that Hasselbaink's agent was lining up a transfer for the summer. If Yang Hao managed to keep his job, he planned to cash in on the Dutchman's sale, which could fetch 20–30 million euros.

With that kind of budget, Yang Hao dreamed of recruiting Adriano, a physical powerhouse who could terrorize defenders.

In Yang Hao's previous life, Adriano had been one of his favorite players at Inter Milan. The Brazilian striker had speed, technique, and unparalleled strength—qualities that would wreak havoc in La Liga.

As for other options, Yang Hao had briefly considered Ronaldinho. But after some research, he realized it was a pipe dream.

By the end of 1999, Ronaldinho's stock had skyrocketed. Leeds United had reportedly offered 46 million pounds for him, but the Brazilian star rejected the move. Paris Saint-Germain and Barcelona were also in the race, both holding private negotiations with the player and his camp.

Even Brazil's transfer laws were complicating matters. Under the Pelé Law—introduced in 1995 by the legendary player-turned-politician—Brazilian players could transfer freely once their contracts expired, making Ronaldinho a prized asset in Europe's transfer market.

For now, Yang Hao's focus was on Atlético's upcoming fixtures.

But one thing was certain: from Majadahonda's training ground to the headlines across Spain, Yang Hao's rise was no longer confined to the sidelines. His journey was just beginning.

The Pelé Law, which would officially come into effect in January 2001, changed the landscape of Brazilian football. It allowed players to transfer freely once their contracts expired, giving rise to a new era of high-profile, chaotic transfers.

Brazilian football was already notorious for its player churn, with frequent contract disputes and unpaid wages. Players often found themselves switching clubs from one month to the next. Many signed only short-term deals, making the upcoming law even more impactful.

For Ronaldinho, this meant waiting for his contract to expire in January 2001 to secure a lucrative free transfer. Reports suggested that both Paris Saint-Germain and Barcelona had privately promised him massive signing bonuses—possibly exceeding €20 million—to ensure he joined them when his contract ran out.

Such deals were not unprecedented. Transfers involving Ronaldo Nazário and, in the future, Neymar would also be embroiled in controversies of a similar nature.

From Yang Hao's perspective, having lived through these moments in his previous life, he was certain that PSG would ultimately outbid Barcelona for Ronaldinho's signature, securing the Brazilian phenom. However, that relationship would soon sour—another chapter in football's turbulent history.

With all this in mind, the likelihood of Atlético Madrid signing Ronaldinho was virtually nonexistent.

But Yang Hao wasn't worried. As a time traveler, he knew the world of football was teeming with talent just waiting to be unearthed.

The Efficiency of the European Paparazzi

By midday, news from the morning had already spread across Spain.

Media outlets, desperate for fresh stories, eagerly latched onto the tale of Yang Hao's supposed work ethic—living, eating, and breathing football at Atlético's training ground in Majadahonda. Articles painted him as the epitome of dedication, a tireless tactician who gave his all to save the struggling club.

Fans ate it up.

For most supporters, it was difficult to judge a coach's tactical acumen or decision-making. But effort? That was visible, and it resonated.

Yang Hao's success—a three-game win streak against heavyweights like Barcelona and Valencia—seemed like the natural result of his relentless hard work.

Even the famous adage from Thomas Edison resurfaced online:

"Genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration."

"Yang Hao has both the inspiration and the perspiration," one fan posted on a forum. "That's what makes him a genius!"

One post, in particular, garnered significant attention among Atlético fans:

"If only we'd hired Yang Hao earlier, Atlético wouldn't be in such dire straits right now."

The sentiment struck a chord.

Supporters flooded the forum, lamenting that the club had wasted precious time on ineffective coaching decisions earlier in the season. Had Yang Hao been brought in sooner, the team's relegation battle might have been avoided altogether.

The League Table After Round 34

Despite their victories, Atlético remained in a precarious position:

Real Betis lost 0–1 at home to Alavés, staying on 36 points. Atlético, with 38 points, leapfrogged them.

Real Oviedo, however, won 3–2 against Mallorca under Luis Aragonés, moving to 40 points and holding 16th place.

Numancia and Real Sociedad, on 40 and 42 points respectively, also stayed within reach.

Meanwhile, Racing Santander shocked the league by beating a multi-tasking Real Madrid 4–2, climbing to 14th place.

Even after their two consecutive wins, Atlético had only climbed one spot, now sitting 18th. The team remained mired in the relegation zone.

With just four games left, every match carried enormous weight. Atlético's survival was still far from guaranteed.

Fan Unity and a Newfound Respect for Yang Hao

Despite the daunting circumstances, Atlético fans rallied behind their team. On forums and in discussions, supporters called for unwavering loyalty, urging one another to back Yang Hao and his ongoing transformation of the club.

The media, meanwhile, uncovered details of Yang Hao's contract, triggering fresh outrage among fans.

Reports revealed that Yang Hao's salary was shockingly low—more akin to an intern or rookie coach on probation than the man orchestrating a potential great escape.

"How can the club treat our savior so poorly?" one fan raged online.

Others echoed the sentiment, demanding better treatment for the man leading Atlético's resurgence.

While the club's supporters vented their frustrations, Yang Hao stayed focused. He understood that in football, respect was earned not through words, but through results. And with four games remaining in the season, his work was far from over.

When Miguel Gil received a call from his father, he was just leaving the Calderón Stadium's fan service office, having met with a representative from one of Atlético's fan clubs.

The fan representative had come specifically to express the concerns of their group, urging the club to properly recognize Yang Hao's contributions and not mistreat a key figure in the fight for survival.

"We can't afford to mess this up at such a crucial moment. If we get relegated, the damage to our club's century-old reputation will be irreversible!"

Miguel assured them repeatedly that the club would handle the matter seriously.

Leaving the fan service office, Miguel exhaled heavily.

How many times had he heard this today?

Numerous local fan groups had sent representatives to convey their opinions. Others called or wrote letters. It was clear that word had spread among supporters, and they were not taking the situation lightly.

In Spain, where many football clubs had historically operated under membership systems, fans were deeply involved in club operations and quick to voice their opinions—often critical—about management decisions.

Even though Atlético was now the private property of the Gil family, they couldn't afford to outright ignore the will of the fans.

Deep down, though, Miguel felt a sense of satisfaction.

When the club negotiated Yang Hao's contract, he had been uncomfortable with the terms. The base salary was far too low, and Miguel had even wondered if Yang Hao's decision to live and eat at the Majadahonda training ground was out of financial necessity.

But this contract was something Yang Hao himself had proposed.

He had argued that since the club couldn't offer him a fair salary, they could structure it as a performance-based deal.

The agreement was simple: Yang Hao wouldn't complain about the low base salary, but the win bonuses and survival bonuses had to be substantial.

At the time, Atlético was in dire straits. After months without a win and with relegation looming, neither management nor fans had much hope for the season. The contract's basic salary was equivalent to an intern's wage, but it promised hefty bonuses for wins, survival, and even a Copa del Rey victory—terms no one seriously expected to pay out.

Looking back now, Miguel realized Yang Hao had been confident all along.

Would he have signed such a performance-heavy deal if he didn't believe in himself?

But now, with the team on the verge of survival, the club could face payouts in the millions if the bonuses were triggered.

When Miguel arrived at Jesús Gil's office, he found Enrique Cerezo and Paulo Futre already there, discussing Yang Hao's contract.

"We need to renegotiate with him," Jesús instructed them. "Regardless of whether we stay up this season, I want him to remain in charge."

Miguel silently exclaimed, I knew it.

But he was caught off guard by what his father said next.

"Keep all the original terms, especially the bonuses. But raise his base salary. Also, get him a car and an apartment."

Miguel was stunned.

He had assumed they were planning to cut Yang Hao's bonuses, not increase his benefits. What was going on?

"Chairman, I understand your reasoning," Cerezo interjected, his tone concerned, "but I must remind you that our finances are incredibly tight right now."

Atlético's precarious financial situation mirrored the strained resources of the Gil family itself. Every matchday payout—player wages, appearance fees, and bonuses—stretched the club to its limits.

Jesús understood this well. Turning to his son, his gaze carried a rare hint of expectation, almost as if he was waiting for Miguel to step up and offer a solution.

For Miguel, this moment was both surprising and profoundly satisfying.

In all his years, his father—domineering and larger-than-life—had never looked at him with such faith.

Sitting straighter, Miguel declared with conviction:

"I'll negotiate with Yang Hao. The club may have financial constraints, but he's truly grateful for this opportunity. I'm confident he'll continue to give his all, whether we can pay him on time or not. I believe in him."

Jesús studied his son for a long moment before nodding firmly.

"Tell him that we may delay payments, but we won't default. He'll get everything he's owed."

"Understood."

"Then this matter is settled. Miguel, it's yours to handle."

Cerezo and Futre voiced no objections, leaving the matter entirely in Miguel's hands.

With the others gone, father and son sat across from each other in the spacious office, the silence between them growing heavy.

For a moment, Jesús Gil looked genuinely pensive, even melancholic.

Perhaps it was because age was catching up to him, but he suddenly felt an overwhelming sadness.

Over the years, Jesús Gil had poured great effort into grooming his son Miguel to take over. Yet here they were, their relationship so strained that, even sitting across from each other now, neither knew what to say.

"You looked upset when you came in. Were you worried I'd shortchange Yang Hao?" Jesús broke the silence.

Miguel's lack of response was answer enough.

"You underestimate me, son," Jesús chuckled, a mix of pride and self-mockery in his voice. "Haven't I always told you? Talent is everything."

Jesús leaned back in his chair, a flicker of his old confidence returning.

"Yang Hao has proven he's the real deal. I wouldn't jeopardize the excellent momentum we've finally built for the sake of a few coins. I'm not that short-sighted."

Jesús Gil was no ordinary businessman. Surviving the cutthroat corporate world and even carving out a controversial niche in Spanish politics, he knew how to read people and situations better than most.

"Right now, Atlético is in its toughest spot, and so is the Gil family. But it's precisely at times like this that we must rally talent to our side and leverage their strengths to weather the storm. Do you understand?"

Miguel stared at his father, a sense of respect long buried rising to the surface.

As a child, Miguel had often looked at his father this way—with awe and admiration. But as he grew older, their differences—be it in philosophy, vision, or personality—became chasms. His father's domineering ways only widened the gap.

Yet for all their disagreements, Miguel knew this man was still his father.

"Tell me, why were you so certain Yang Hao was a talent in the first place?" Jesús asked, his curiosity piqued.

Miguel didn't hold back. He recounted their first meeting in a bar, how Yang Hao's astute observations proved accurate time and again, and the bold vision Yang Hao had shared with him on the flight from Rome to Madrid.

Six months ago, Jesús might have scoffed and dismissed it as empty talk. But now, with three consecutive wins under Yang Hao's belt, the elder Gil was listening intently.

The more Miguel spoke, the more Jesús found himself surprised—and impressed.

Jesús was already sold on Yang Hao's coaching abilities. But what truly grabbed his attention now was Yang Hao's vision for the club's future, especially the potential transfer strategies for the upcoming summer.

"You're telling me he genuinely believes he can build a competitive team within three years while generating a surplus for the club this summer?" Jesús pressed, leaning forward.

Atlético was strapped for cash, and the idea of a self-sustaining transfer strategy was music to his ears.

"Absolutely. When he said it, he was brimming with confidence—just like when he told me Antic couldn't save our club. He also talked about the coming age of the global internet and how Atlético must ride this wave, prioritizing brand development on an international scale."

Miguel's voice carried a mix of excitement and conviction as he continued, "He believes that as long as he delivers results on the pitch, the club can capitalize commercially. He envisions both fronts working in tandem. He even said that within a few years, Atlético could build enough financial muscle to challenge Real Madrid and Barcelona as Spain's 'third giant.'"

Jesús was stunned.

This was his dream—the one he'd chased for years but never achieved.

For all his time at the helm, Jesús knew Atlético's perennial issue was money—or the lack of it.

Not just Atlético—Valencia, Deportivo La Coruña, and other clubs had tried to challenge the duopoly of Real Madrid and Barcelona. Yet no matter how dazzling their form, their financial limitations always caught up to them.

Take Valencia, for instance. Their star players, López, Mendieta, and Farinós, were already being courted by European giants like Lazio, Real Madrid, Barcelona, and Inter Milan. Even Gerard, their midfielder groomed at La Masia, was rumored to want a return to Barcelona.

How long could Valencia maintain its success?

Atlético's struggles were no different.

Why had players like Simeone and Vieri left? Because Atlético couldn't afford to keep them.

Jesús knew this all too well.

"This time, when you talk to Yang Hao," Jesús instructed firmly, "make sure we show sincerity. Listen carefully to any requests he has.

"We're at our lowest point right now, and he's our best—and maybe only—lifeline. If we have to bow our heads, so be it. If we need to act humble, let's do it. The most important thing is securing our survival and future growth. Do you understand me?"

Jesús, hardened by decades in business, knew when and where to invest. He could see the stakes clearly.

If Atlético were relegated, it would be a decade—at least—before the club could recover.

But if Yang Hao's vision panned out, Atlético could save itself a decade of struggle and join Spain's elite sooner than anyone thought possible.

Jesús didn't need a calculator to see the value of such a proposition.

And he hoped Miguel could see it too.

"Renew my contract?"

When Miguel Gil met Yang Hao in the afternoon, he couldn't wait to discuss extending the young coach's deal. After his talk with his father, Jesús Gil, they'd agreed on the importance of securing Yang Hao for the long term.

But Yang Hao's reaction wasn't quite what Miguel had expected.

"Is there a problem? Speak freely," Miguel prompted, sensing hesitation.

"It's not that I have a problem, but right now, the team is under immense pressure. We're about to head to Barcelona for the second leg of the Copa del Rey semifinals. You might not know this, but Van Gaal has recently reconciled with Rivaldo and Kluivert. The situation is... complicated. I simply can't afford any distractions," Yang Hao explained.

The first leg had seen Atlético dismantle Barcelona 4–1—a result as stunning as Valencia's 5–2 victory over Lazio in the Champions League. With such an advantage, Atlético was tantalizingly close to a spot in the Copa del Rey final.

"Of course, we need to go all out in Barcelona to secure our place in the final," Miguel agreed.

Yang Hao nodded. "Exactly. And after that, we host Barcelona in the league next weekend. If we don't perform well midweek, it'll affect us mentally for that match. We need to keep our momentum going."

For Yang Hao, the Copa del Rey semifinal was crucial, but the league—where relegation was still looming—was the true priority. Balancing both required precision, and he couldn't afford to lose focus.

Miguel picked up on this and decided to back off.

"Oh, by the way, Miguel, you haven't started selling any players yet, right?"

"No, not yet. If there's any news, I'll let you know immediately. Honestly, we're managing to scrape by financially for now, but things are tight. Your bonuses will have to wait."

Yang Hao chuckled lightly. To date, he hadn't received a single cent from Atlético.

"It's fine. I don't mind. But make sure the players are paid on time," he emphasized.

"Other clubs are circling us like vultures, waiting for our finances to collapse. During the government's intervention, they were eager to pounce, but now they're holding back, probably waiting to see if we get relegated first," Miguel speculated.

"Then let them wait. We're not selling anyone before the season ends. Once we secure safety, our players' values will rise significantly compared to those of a relegated team," Yang Hao reminded him, his confidence in avoiding relegation clear.

Though some Atlético fans were disappointed the team hadn't yet escaped the drop zone, Yang Hao felt the team was progressing as expected. The battle to stay up was always brutal, but it was this very difficulty that made the role of a coach who could achieve it so invaluable.

"We're 18th now. One more step forward, and we're out of the relegation zone," Yang Hao declared. "When that happens, we'll renegotiate transfers and contracts—on our terms."

Miguel couldn't help but be inspired by Yang Hao's determination.

"Got it. I'll handle it. As for your contract..."

"You can leak the news that I've agreed to renew my contract and will stay on next season. But the actual terms? Let's finalize those after the season, when there's more time to discuss." Yang Hao's tone brooked no argument.

Now that he had leverage, he wasn't rushing into anything.

"Fair enough. I'll wait for your signal," Miguel conceded.

After seeing Miguel off, Yang Hao exhaled deeply.

With three consecutive wins under his belt, he'd established himself at Atlético and secured a verbal agreement for a long-term deal. But he knew that nothing was set in stone. If the team faltered now, the club wouldn't hesitate to reconsider.

He had plans for the summer transfer window and squad restructuring but knew the specifics could only be determined after the season. Certain players would have to leave, while others might still have roles to play.

His vision? A team so formidable that opponents feared even the mention of Atlético Madrid.

But first, Barcelona.

In the next four days, Atlético would face the Catalan giants twice. The prospect of consecutive showdowns was both daunting and thrilling.

It reminded Yang Hao of Ranieri, whose reputation in Spain soared after leading Valencia to three victories over Barcelona in one season.

"What if I do the same? Three wins against Barcelona in one campaign—what would that say about me?" Yang Hao mused.

But it wouldn't be easy.

Van Gaal, recently reconciled with his dressing room, had the likes of Kluivert and Rivaldo back onside. The two stars publicly stated their commitment to putting past grievances aside to help Barcelona pursue silverware on three fronts.

In return, Van Gaal adjusted his tactics, abandoning his rigid 4–3–3.

Previously, Kluivert was the undisputed center-forward, with Rivaldo pushed out wide—a move that infuriated the Brazilian star, who felt his talents were wasted on the flank. The rift between the two had been a major source of tension.

Now, Van Gaal introduced a new system: a 3–3–3–1 formation.

Yang Hao wasted no time studying the adjustments.

Under this system, Barcelona operated with three defenders, three midfielders, and three forwards positioned more centrally, with Rivaldo given a free role to roam behind Kluivert. The setup aimed to maximize the duo's strengths while maintaining Barcelona's high-pressure, possession-heavy style.

"It's going to be a chess match," Yang Hao thought, already formulating his countermeasures.

Though Barcelona had the upper hand in terms of individual talent, Yang Hao believed his detailed preparation and ability to adapt gave Atlético a fighting chance.

"Two games, one mission: prove we belong," he told himself.

As the clock ticked toward the Copa del Rey semifinal second leg, Yang Hao's focus sharpened. A spot in the final was within reach, but more importantly, so was something greater: the belief that Atlético could overcome even the mightiest of adversaries.

The updated Barcelona formation featured Kluivert as the lone forward, supported by Zenden, Rivaldo, and Figo. Behind them, Cocu, Guardiola, and either Xavi or Gabri held the midfield, while Reiziger, De Boer, and Puyol formed the backline.

This 3–3–3–1 formation had already proven effective for Barcelona. In the Champions League quarterfinal second leg, it helped them stage a sensational comeback against Chelsea. More recently, Van Gaal's squad had used it to secure a 2–0 win over Sevilla in the league.

Now, it was Atlético Madrid's turn to face the revamped Barça.

This formation's weakness was obvious: defensive coverage on the flanks. However, its philosophy was clear—attack to defend. If the forwards could press their opponents into submission, the gaps at the back would rarely be exploited.

For Barcelona, the gamble was paying off. Players like Kluivert, Rivaldo, and Figo thrived in this system. It also masked their lack of a reliable left-back.

But for Yang Hao and Atlético Madrid, caution was the only option.

It wasn't a question of lacking courage; it was a matter of strategy. With a 4–1 lead from the first leg, the risk of playing aggressively at Camp Nou outweighed the potential rewards. If Barça's formidable attacking lineup of Kluivert, Rivaldo, Zenden, and Figo were given room to operate, the consequences could be devastating.

Thus, Yang Hao's plan was simple: defend resolutely from the outset.

But defense wasn't just about parking the bus in front of the penalty box. Allowing Kluivert to dominate in the air or exploiting Atlético's known aerial weakness would be disastrous. Instead, the team's defensive line would push up to the midfield, suffocating Barcelona's attack in less dangerous areas.

The strategy aimed to slow the game's tempo, blunting Barcelona's initial burst of energy. Down by three goals, Van Gaal's men needed an early spark to ignite their comeback hopes. If Atlético could weather the storm, Barcelona would become increasingly frustrated, especially given their precarious position in the league.

Currently five points behind Deportivo La Coruña with just four matches remaining, Barça faced a daunting task in La Liga. Their next match against Celta Vigo—a team boasting one of the league's strongest double-pivot midfield pairings in Makélélé and Celades—promised to be a grueling challenge.

So, for Van Gaal, which was more important: the Copa del Rey or the league?

If Barça could score early, Van Gaal would likely push for a full-scale assault. But if Atlético turned the match into a war of attrition, he might have no choice but to conserve energy for the league.

For Yang Hao, this wasn't two separate games—it was one continuous battle. Preparing for the two matches against Barcelona as a unified challenge provided clarity, making it easier to adapt and plan.

April 25th, Camp Nou, Barcelona

For the first time, Yang Hao stepped onto this world-famous footballing stage. Gazing around at the packed stands, he truly grasped the meaning of the "12th man."

The black sea of spectators, the deafening roar of the crowd—just standing on the pitch felt like facing a tidal wave of pressure.

Earlier that evening, at Barcelona's Olympic Stadium, Espanyol had drawn 1–1 with Real Madrid. Morientes' second-half equalizer canceled out Espanyol's first-half lead, and with the first leg in Madrid ending goalless, Los Blancos advanced to the Copa del Rey final on away goals.

All eyes now turned to Camp Nou.

With a commanding 4–1 lead from the first leg, Atlético Madrid were favorites to advance. Yet Barcelona had a reputation for staging comebacks at home, making them dangerous opponents.

Regardless of who advanced, the prospect of facing Real Madrid in the final guaranteed headlines.

Yang Hao caught wind of some news: Espanyol's star center-back, Mauricio Pochettino—the future European coaching sensation—had missed the match, leaving their defense vulnerable. But Yang Hao chose not to share this with his players, instead keeping their focus entirely on the task at hand.

As the players returned to the locker room after their warm-up, Yang Hao could feel their readiness.

Three consecutive victories had restored a sense of belief to the team. Gone were the doubts and hesitations of the past. The players now exuded a quiet confidence, especially when they looked at their coach.

Yang Hao said little. As the referee's whistle signaled it was time to take the field, he stood before his players and, with deliberate emphasis, declared:

"I've already booked the hotel and flights for Valencia. I believe in you."

The Copa del Rey final would be held at Valencia's Mestalla Stadium.

(End of Chapter)

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