When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 90 Champions League (1 words)

August 6, 2003, Ligue 8, third round.

Monaco will host Bastia.

In the 38th minute, Giuly initiated an attack, and Roy's cross assisted Morientes to score!

Canal+ commentary is full of passion:
"Monaco's attack is on! Giuly receives the ball on the right wing, and facing Bastia's left-back Yahya's pressure, he makes a delicate change of direction and accelerates down the flank! Cross—no! He feints a pass, cuts back, and lays it off to the onrushing Roy!"

"Roy receives the ball, Bastia midfielder Coetzee rushes in, but Roy feints with a drop of his shoulder, flicks it with the outside of his right foot, and crosses it directly to the edge of the penalty area—Morientes! Unmarked! The Spanish striker takes a step, and shoots with his right foot—goal!!!"

"BUUUUUT! Monaco leads 1-0! Morientes calmly slots the ball home, Peneto has no chance! Roy's vision and passing are too precise, Bastia's defense has been completely torn apart!"

Morientes rushed to the corner flag and opened his arms to accept the cheers of the fans.

Roy and Giuly exchanged a smile and gave each other a high five.

Deschamps clenched his fist and roared on the sidelines, clearly very satisfied with the execution of this tactical play.

In first-half stoppage time, Greek veteran Zikos scored with a long-range shot!
"The game is about to enter halftime, but Monaco hasn't given up yet! Roy drops back to receive the ball and passes it to Rothen on the left wing. Rothen dribbles inside, attracts the defense, and then passes back to Zikos! The Greek veteran unleashes a powerful shot!!!"

"The ball flew straight into the top corner like a cannonball! Peneto made a diving save, but it was too late! 2-0! Monaco scored again before halftime!"

The experienced but long-term injury-plagued midfielder celebrated with rare passion, and his teammates rushed forward to hug him.

Deschamps nodded in satisfaction, clearly pleased with his control of the team.

In the 59th minute of the second half, Roy scored on a counter-attack, putting on a solo performance!

"Bastia's corner kick was caught by Roma, and they quickly launched a counter-attack with a throw-in! Giuly received the ball, looked up to observe, and then chipped it directly to Roy! He sprinted like a cheetah!"

"Roy received the ball and, facing the double-team of Barthez and Mendy, accelerated and slipped between them! Savelic came to cover, but Roy cut inside with his right foot and flicked it with his left, creating space!"

"A powerful shot from the edge of the penalty area—the ball bounced off the ground and nestled into the net! 3-0!!! Roy's individual ability is terrifying! He single-handedly destroyed Bastia's defense!"

He ran expressionlessly toward the corner flag area, lightly tapping his temple with his right index finger in his signature "execution gesture."

Monaco fans chanted wildly: "ROI! ROI! ROI!"

70 minutes.

The commentator's voice sounded somewhat expectant:
"Deschamps makes a substitution, with 19-year-old French star Franck Ribéry replacing Rothen! This is his official debut for Monaco!"

Ribery, warming up on the sidelines, pursed his lips, his jawline taut, and his gaze swept across the Bastia defense like a razor's edge.

He repeatedly raised his legs high to exercise his muscles, and slapped his thighs hard with both hands, like a fighting beast about to be released from its cage.

Deschamps grabbed him by the back of his jersey and said in a low voice, "Go tear open the left flank, like you did on the concrete pitch in Boulogne. I want you to shred their defense."

"Remember the tactics! But don't lose your imagination!"

"He passes the ball faster than any other player!"

After saying that, he patted Ribery on the back hard, so hard that a "smack" could be heard, which was both a sign of trust and pressure.

In a run-down bar near the fishing port of Boulogne, Ribery's father, François, suddenly jumped onto the table with a beer mug in hand and roared in a thick northern French accent, "That's my son! Frank! He's gone from the streets to Ligue 1!"

Roy, who was moving on the left flank, witnessed this scene.

He stopped, raised his hands high above his head, and clapped his hands three times forcefully.

His eyes were determined, clearly eager to prove himself.

Roy walked over and patted him on the shoulder, seemingly encouraging his young friend.

"Ribery showed his energy immediately after coming on, making several breakthroughs on the left wing and creating a corner kick."

76 minutes.

Ribery received a diagonal pass from Pedretti on the left wing. Facing the challenge from Bastia's right-back Ulas, he cut inside with his left foot and suddenly accelerated with the outside of his right foot, directly shaking off the defender.

When he breaks through, he keeps his center of gravity extremely low, with a fast step frequency and short stride.

Bastia's defensive midfielder Barthez came to cover, but Ribery made a feint with his shoulder and then suddenly poked the ball towards the byline with his right foot, overtaking the opponent!
Ulas scrambled back to chase, but Ribery had already broken into the edge of the penalty area.

Roy was originally drawing the attention of the center-backs in the middle, but when he saw Ribery break through, he suddenly cut diagonally to the near post, ready to pounce on the ball.

Center-back Mendy was forced to move to the wing to cover, and Ribery feigned a cross but then flicked the ball back with his heel to the onrushing Evra, who swept a low cross across the face of goal.

Bastia's center-back Savelic hastily cleared the ball, which flew out of bounds.

Giuly, on the right wing, grinned and shouted at Ribery, "Keep tearing them apart, Frank!"

He then immediately winked at Roy and teased, "This kid is more daring than Rothen."

Deschamps clapped his hands three times on the sidelines and shouted, "Just play like this! Don't be afraid to make mistakes!"

He turned to assistant coach Petit and whispered, "Tell Roy to look for gaps on the left flank during the next counter-attack."

Deschamps smiled and said in the post-match interview:
“We played as a team, and Roy and Giuly are getting better and better at understanding each other. Ribery? He's very talented, and we'll give him time to develop.”

Roy gave a brief response to reporters:
"Winning is the most important thing; we'll continue in the next game."

During the interview with Ribery, the reporter practically poked the microphone into his chest:
"Frank! You posed a threat in your debut. How would you rate your performance?"

Ribery's fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of his jersey:

"Uh, I... I just..."

He turned his head and suddenly caught a glimpse of Deschamps' cold face in the distance.

"Break through the defense as the coach instructed."

The reporter followed up with:
"Roy applauded for you. What does this recognition from the locker room leader mean to you?"

He's a Hammer boss!
Ribery's Adam's apple bobbed, and his scarred face flushed red.
“He is! I mean, in Boulogne, I am. We are friends.”

The reporter suppressed a laugh and said:

"what?"

Ribery frantically waved his hands:
"No, no! It's Putain! Anyway, the ball is faster than a person!"

London, Kearney training ground.

Wenger stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window in his office, his fingers lightly tapping the window frame, his gaze fixed on the training field.

Henry and Vieira were leading the young players in passing and movement drills, while Pires was practicing free kicks alone in the distance.

The phone rings.

"Alsena, Nike's final offer has been confirmed," CEO David Deane's voice came through the receiver. "£5500 million, payable in two installments, expiring in 2011, with a three-year option to renew."

Wenger's lips curled up slightly, but he quickly regained his composure.

He gave a soft "hmm," his gaze sweeping across the financial statements spread out on the table. The new Premier League season was about to begin, and the Community Shield match against Manchester United was imminent, but the loan pressure for the new stadium was like a boulder, suffocating the club.

"What about the bank?" he asked.

“Goldman Sachs agreed to extend the repayment period, but raised the interest rate by 0.5%.” Dane paused. “However, Nike’s money will allow us to last at least until 2006.”

Given Arsenal's insufficient short-term debt repayment capacity, this is already a very modest interest rate increase.

With league rivals Chelsea spending lavishly, and Manchester United, Liverpool, Newcastle, and other competitors facing no pressure to build stadiums, the situation is quite different.

As a club with high debt from a single project, Arsenal's 0.5% increase is actually lower than the market's usual risk premium for sports venue projects (usually 1%-2%).

Wenger did not respond immediately, but turned to look at the tactics board hanging on the wall.

The page was filled with detailed preparation plans for the new season, but the transfer budget section was completely empty.

"So, we still don't have any additional funds for player recruitment?"

Dane paused for two seconds: "Not for now."

Wenger took a deep breath, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the tactical pen: "Then let's leave it at that."

Reporter: "Mr. Wenger, Chelsea has spent £5860 million on signings this summer, which is only £100 million less than the total transfer spending of the other 19 clubs. Arsenal, on the other hand, has not made any new signings so far. Are you worried about the team's competitiveness?"

Wenger smiled slightly and placed his hands on the table: "Football is not a simple matter of addition and subtraction. If you could win by envying others, then everyone should become an accountant."

A few light laughs rippled through the room.

The reporter pressed further: "But has the financial burden of the new stadium limited your player recruitment plans?"

A hint of weariness flashed across Wenger's eyes, but his tone remained firm: "We have retained our core squad. The value of players like Henry, Vieira, Pires, and Ljungberg cannot be measured by transfer fees."

He paused, his voice low: "Of course, I hope to have more resources, but the reality is—we must first gain a foothold before we can go further."

After training, Wenger called a meeting with the entire team.

“I know you’ve heard a lot of rumors.” He looked around at the crowd. “Some people say we’re out of money, some people say we’re going to go bankrupt.”

The locker room was completely silent.

“But I want to tell you,” Wenger suddenly raised his voice, “that the foundation of Arsenal has never been the checkbook, but every single person in this dressing room.”

Henry and Vieira exchanged a glance and nodded slightly.

"In the new season, we may not spend as lavishly as Chelsea, but we have one thing that they can never buy."

Wenger's gaze swept across every face.

"Our pride."

That evening, Wenger remained alone in his office with a scouting report spread out on his desk—Roy, Monaco's 18-year-old prodigy, with a release clause of 450 million euros.

He stared at the report for a long time, then finally sighed and closed the folder.

That's all in the past.

The cruelest joke of fate is that it makes those who understand genius best watch helplessly as geniuses become someone else's legend.

Outside the window, the lights of the Kearney training ground flickered in the Hertfordshire night, while the silhouette of a crane on a distant construction site loomed like a silent giant in the moonlight—that yet-to-be-born "temple of the future" was greedily devouring every available penny. Wenger suddenly sneered, recalling Dane's words: "Arsena, we have to be patient for the future."

He knew that Arsenal's "financial winter" would eventually pass, and his "Gunners" would eventually usher in their era.

At almost the same time, Juventus, with its European championship history and outstanding performance in the US tour, successfully reached a lucrative sponsorship agreement with Nike.

The contract, which runs until 2015, is worth a total of 2 million euros and includes an innovative clause—Juventus will receive a 10%-15% cut of all sales of merchandise bearing the Nike-Juventus co-branded logo.

This business partnership fully demonstrates Nike's recognition of the "Old Lady" brand value. Although the overall commercial development of Serie A has gradually lagged behind the Premier League, Juventus still maintains the commercial appeal of a top club.

On August 10, although Henry opened the scoring, Manchester United defeated Arsenal 2-1 to win the Community Shield thanks to penalties from Silvestre and Van Nistelrooy.

Ronaldinho contributed a pass and a penalty.

8 month 12 day.

Old Trafford, Manchester United Press Room

Sir Alex Ferguson stood in front of the microphone, impeccably dressed in a suit, with a serious expression.

Flashbulbs went off as reporters held their breath, waiting for him to speak.

"Today, I am pleased to announce that Manchester United have reached an agreement with Sporting Lisbon of Portugal to sign 18-year-old Cristiano Ronaldo."

His voice was steady and powerful, and the projection screen behind him lit up, playing highlights of Cristiano Ronaldo's performance in the Portuguese league, showcasing his dazzling dribbling, quick changes of direction, and precise shots.

"The transfer fee is 1200 million euros, and the contract is for 5 years." Ferguson paused, a slight smile playing on his lips. "He's a genius, possessing all the qualities to become a top player."

Reporters quickly took notes, and flashbulbs went off again.

Reporter's question:
"Sir Ferguson, what number jersey will the young Portuguese player wear?"

Ferguson tapped his fingers lightly on the podium:
"Cristiano will continue to wear number 28, which is his number at Sporting Lisbon. Young players need time to grow."

Reporter's question:
"Sir Ferguson, Manchester United and West Ham United had previously held in-depth negotiations regarding Defoe's transfer. Why did you ultimately abandon the pursuit of this young English star?"

Ferguson flashed his signature sly smile:
“Jermaine was a good player, but when we signed Ronaldinho, the problem was solved – he could play on the left, right and even the number 10 position, which gave us more tactical options.”

He suddenly stopped smiling and leaned forward:
"As for the forward line? Van Nistelrooy's 44 goals last season... do I need to explain that?"

Ferguson suddenly turned to look at CEO Gill:

"Of course, unless someone tells me right now that someone can do both Defoe's sprints and Van Nistelrooy's finishes, that's the 'all-around answer' Manchester United needs."

In addition, Ferguson is also targeting Barcelona's defensive linchpin, Puyol. Barcelona's £1400 million debt makes this deal possible, with Manchester United tentatively offering £1.4 million. Rijkaard, however, has firmly stated: "Puyol is not for sale!"

However, Barcelona's press officer Castillo left room for negotiation: "Any player is open to discussion if the price is right."

President Laporta tacitly approved of this position.

The key turning point came when Puyol himself stated: "I am willing to leave for the sake of the club's finances. If his transfer can earn the club a huge transfer fee, he is willing to leave. This also means that once the two clubs reach an agreement, Puyol will not create any obstacles."

Puyol boasted, "Modern football is no longer just about technique and scoring goals; defenders are becoming increasingly important. When we have to show manly courage, we must do that. That will be the attitude I bring to Manchester United. I'm a versatile player for both club and country, which is why I'm a target for coaches."

"Playing for a league like the Premier League and a team like Manchester United is a unique and wonderful opportunity for any player. I know some players would even pay extra for such an opportunity. It's something to be proud of to be praised by a manager of Ferguson's stature."

The key issue is that, faced with Puyol's £1500 million price tag, Manchester United spent all the money they had from selling Beckham and Veron after signing several players.

Monaco training ground, players' lounge

Roy leaned back on the sofa, holding a copy of L'Équipe in his hand, while the television was showing highlights of Manchester United's 2-1 victory over Arsenal to lift the Community Shield.

"Van Nistelrooy scores a penalty, Silvestre heads the ball in. Multiple players from both sides receive red cards. Manchester United and Arsenal are still the same old tough opponents."

He made a casual comment, but his eyes remained fixed on the scrolling news headlines at the bottom of the screen.

Manchester United officially announced the signing of 18-year-old Portuguese prodigy Cristiano Ronaldo for a transfer fee of €1200 million.

Roy's lips curled up slightly as he tapped the photo on the newspaper with his fingers—Cristiano Ronaldo wearing Manchester United's number 28 jersey, his smile youthful but his eyes resolute.

"Cristiano Ronaldo," he murmured the name, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Juli, who was standing nearby, leaned over for a look and raised an eyebrow, asking, "What, do you know each other?"

Roy chuckled and tossed the newspaper aside: "Don't know him, but I've heard of him. Sporting Lisbon's 'King of Fancy Dribbling,' supposedly even more of a show-off than me."

Giuly grinned: "Then Manchester United now has two 'Ro's'? Ronaldinho, is Ronaldo going to steal your and Ronaldinho's 'RORO' combination?"

Roy suddenly sat up straight, raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and spread his hands: "So competitive! Manchester United! It makes me want to form a Manchester United trio of Ronaldo and Ronaldo!"

A burst of laughter erupted in the locker room.

August 18th is an international match day.

When Roy pushed open the door, Zidane was bending over to tie his shoelaces.

Hearing the door open, he lifted his eyelids and glanced at it.

Roy walked in, chatting and laughing with Giuly and Pedretti.

Giuly was carrying a training bag, Pedretti was gesturing and talking, and Roy was grinning, revealing a row of white teeth, his suit jacket casually draped over his shoulders.

At the other end of the room, Vieira sat on a bench, vigorously rubbing his shiny scalp with a white towel, making a rustling sound.

Henry moved the L'Équipe newspaper down half an inch from his face, revealing his signature droopy eyes. He glanced at the three people who had just entered and then held the newspaper back up.

Wiltord, who was putting on his shin guards, suddenly tightened his lips when he heard the laughter, turned his face towards the locker, and slammed the locker door shut with a loud bang.

The air suddenly became quiet for a few seconds.

Zidane's gaze swept back and forth between the two sides—on the left was the Arsenal trio who had just been thrashed 2-1 by Manchester United, with Henry's newspaper still bearing a picture of Ferguson grinning broadly in the corner; on the other side was the Monaco clique centered around Roy.

Since his stellar performance at the Confederations Cup, Roy has been surrounded by a group of young players, and even their positioning in the locker room has become fixed. Roy, a slight smile playing on his lips, spoke first:
"Zizou, did you have fun in Asia? I heard that Real Madrid played even friendly matches in China like Champions League finals."

Zidane paused, looked up, and a complex emotion flashed in his deep eyes, a mixture of admiration and regret.

"The fans are very enthusiastic." He finally gave a faint smile, his voice low and gentle, "More enthusiastic than I imagined."

Roy leaned against the locker, his tone relaxed:
"I guess so. After all, even Beckham's jerseys can sell out, let alone 'Zizou's'."

Zidane chuckled softly, shook his head, but his gaze gradually became serious:

“Roy, you could have been the one they cheered for.”

The subtext: Real Madrid's final ultimatum before July 10th, the phone call Zidane made personally.

"I'd rather they cheer for my choice than for someone else's decision."

His voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear, as if he were speaking to everyone, yet also as if he were speaking only to himself.

Then, Roy suddenly grinned, his shoulders relaxed, and his tone became light and even a little self-deprecating: "Besides, how could I compete with Ronaldo? I don't want to be on the bench."

He spread his hands exaggeratedly, which made the other players in the locker room laugh along with him. The tension in the locker room seemed to be eased a lot by this joke.

Zidane's lips curled up slightly as he thought to himself that this kid knew how to talk—he neither backed down nor confronted him head-on, but instead used humor to smooth things over.

Henry raised an eyebrow behind the newspaper, while Vieira snorted, tossed the towel over her shoulder, and turned to walk toward the shower.

Zidane watched Roy chatting and laughing with the young men in the locker room, and his lips twitched slightly.

He originally thought Roy would be a new junior member of his faction, but he didn't expect that after just one Confederations Cup, Roy had become a rising star in the locker room.

He bent down to tie his shoelaces, feeling a little amused.

I'm over thirty now, and I've been in the locker room for so many years. What haven't I seen?

Roy wants to be the boss? He's a long shot.

Zidane stroked the stubble on his chin, thinking of his World Cup medal and Ballon d'Or at home.

"To have any influence here," Zidane thought to himself, "I need to win at least the European Championship, then the World Cup, and ideally two Ballon d'Or awards."

He glanced at Roy's still-childish face and shook his head.

It's good that young people are energetic, but a position in the locker room can't be earned by forming cliques.

As he turned his head, his gaze swept over the empty seats occupied by Henry and Vieira, and the corners of his mouth unconsciously turned up.

When Roy finally thinks he can speak up in the locker room, what will Henry and Vieira's reaction be?
He couldn't help but chuckle again.

Anyway, he was about to retire at that time.

He needs to keep a close eye on this performance.

In the locker room, Dakul was chatting and laughing with several young players when he suddenly called out to Zidane, who was changing his shoes, "Zidane, can we talk about Claude (Makelele)?"

The previously noisy locker room suddenly quieted down. Dakul regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth—Zidane's relaxed expression instantly turned cold, and he gave Dakul a sharp look, causing Dakul to instinctively shrink back.

"No comment."

Zidane's voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear, carrying an undeniable indifference.

The air in the locker room seemed to freeze for a moment.

Roy and Giuly exchanged a glance, and Pedretti lowered his head, pretending to adjust his socks. Neither of them spoke again.

Dakur chuckled awkwardly, then quickly turned around to rummage through his cabinet, pretending nothing had happened.

After concluding his Asian tour, Real Madrid midfielder Claude Makelele once again demanded a pay rise, which was firmly rejected. Makelele then publicly went on strike.

In an interview, he made a startling statement: "I want a raise because Beckham is here. In the new season, I will have to put in three times the effort and sweat for this lazy Englishman. Shouldn't I get a raise?"

Makelele's strike stemmed from two factors: Chelsea's offer of a €9 million transfer fee plus double his annual salary, and his agent's accusation that Real Madrid had failed to honor their promise of a pay rise and contract extension made in September 2002.

Real Madrid has shown an unprecedentedly tough stance, with sporting director Jorge Valdano publicly warning that severe measures such as bans, fines, and even appeals to FIFA will be taken, emphasizing that "no one at Real Madrid is irreplaceable," and that the technical department has already contacted alternatives such as Baraja and Davids.

Sources close to Florentino Pérez say the president sees this move as a challenge to the club's authority and would rather pay the release clause than compromise.

Faced with pressure from Real Madrid, Chelsea quickly withdrew their offer and apologized, with executive manager Burch admitting a "strategic mistake."

Makelele's team then changed their tune, claiming the strike was due to physical fatigue, and released a conciliatory signal through AS: "It's a pleasure playing for Real Madrid."

The two-day turmoil temporarily subsided with both sides taking a step back, but it laid the groundwork for future transfers.

In the locker room, Roy glanced at Zidane, whose face was gloomy, and Dakul, who was retreating awkwardly. He quickly lowered his head and pretended to adjust his socks, but the corner of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.

"Too stubborn! Real Madrid's management is really defiant," he chuckled to himself. "Baraja? Davies? Are they going to put that 'lazy Englishman' in defensive midfield?"

Recalling the comical scene of Beckham being forced to do dirty work later, Roy almost burst out laughing, but quickly covered it up with a cough.

He glanced at Zidane's still tense profile and decided to keep those words to himself, at least not now.

The words of Real Madrid's management, "No one at Real Madrid is irreplaceable," still resonate, but history has delivered the most biting irony.

In the season after Makelele left, the Galacticos' proud stars had to work tirelessly on the field, and Beckham's predicament of being forced to play as a defensive midfielder became a laughing stock in the football world.

Zidane had to drop back frequently to cover, leaving Raul and Ronaldo isolated and helpless in the attacking third.

The French engineer, whom the higher-ups considered "replaceable at any time," proved with his absence that he was the true balancer of the Galactic Empire.

On August 20, Switzerland lost 0-2 to France.

Roy assisted Trezeguet to score a goal in the 13th minute of a counter-attack, and before the end of the first half, he received a pass from Zidane and scored with a powerful shot from a tight angle.

Domenech sat in his hotel room with his pre-match astrological analysis notes spread out in front of him, densely covered with astrological symbols and their correspondence with the players' birth dates.

The TV was replaying Roy's brilliant goal and assist. He pushed up his glasses, a mysterious smile playing on his lips.

"Trezeguet, Libra. Mercury retrograde definitely affected the accuracy of his passes. Fortunately, Venus was still in its domicile. Those two chances would have been scored if Mercury had been direct! However, Venus's effect of drawing the defense was still very noticeable."

View Zidane's birth chart.

"Zidane, a Cancer, with the Moon in his career sector, certainly gives him control. Although his emotional fluctuation index is a bit high, that's what makes Cancer so endearing."

"Jiu Li! July 10th. Cancer leaning towards Leo! The Sun's energy entering the midfield is just perfect! Look at that range of movement, typical Leo energy!"

Frustrated, I turned to the next page.

"Tsk Roy, October 6th. Just four days short! Just four days! And he could be a pure Libra!"

He shook his head in anguish.

"What a promising talent! The elegance of Libra, the artistic flair ruled by Venus."

He suddenly tugged at his tie in frustration, "Why did I have to get involved with this damn Scorpio trait!"

"Mars in its domicile. Its explosive power is undeniable, but that full moon! The moon just happened to be in Scorpio! This configuration is like giving a scorpion a stimulant!"

He rolled his eyes as he imagined Roy's goal-scoring action.

"That goal... a classic Scorpion-style sneak attack! The angle was outrageously tricky! If I had been born four days earlier, a pure Libra would have made such a perfect and elegant curveball, a brilliant lob pass. Now, all of that damned Scorpio trait has gone astray!"

He finally slumped into his chair, deflated, and muttered resentfully:
"One assist and one goal. That was really impressive, but if he were a pure Libra, he definitely could have scored two!"

August 24, 2003, Ligue 8, fourth round.

Monaco will once again visit the Parc des Princes to face Paris Saint-Germain.

Scene from the pre-match press conference.
Reporter: "Pauleta, the Golden Boot was snatched away by Roy at the last minute last season. What do you want to say about this matchup?"

Pauleta flashed a professional smile and said calmly, "To be honest, I never deliberately focus on personal statistics. Scoring goals is only part of the game; what's more important is whether the team can win. If you play football just to pad your stats, then football loses its meaning."

The reporters at the scene exchanged glances; it sounded like a polite remark.

The reporter pressed further: "But Roy surpassed your entire season's goal tally in just 14 games. Don't you feel any pressure?"

Pauleta's smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered: "Football isn't a math problem; it's not about who scores more goals to be stronger. I have a lot to do on the field, like stretching the defense and creating chances for my teammates. These things won't be reflected in the statistics."

A reporter in the audience muttered quietly, "Does that mean Roy only knows how to pad his stats?"

After hearing the reporter's account, Roy first let out a hearty laugh.

The reporter asked, "What do you think of Pauleta's comments?"

Roy smiled broadly and said in a gentle tone, "We are the champions!"

He stated unequivocally, "The champion doesn't need anyone else's evaluation!"

The scene suddenly became quiet.

Roy continued, "As for the team? Pauleta's team last season was Bordeaux, and this season his team is Paris Saint-Germain!"

He spread his hands, a sarcastic smile on his face. "And I'm still in Monaco! He understands the word 'team' all too well; maybe he just hasn't found the right team for him yet."

These words caused a stir among the reporters present.

Roy added at the end: "But it's okay. After tonight's game, he will have a clearer understanding of what true team football is."

After saying this, he got up and left his seat, leaving the room in an uproar.

The referee blew his whistle, and Paris kicked off first.

On the sidelines, Deschamps, dressed in a sharp suit, stood with his hands in his pockets, intently watching the situation; while Paris Saint-Germain coach Halilhodžić kept waving his hands to signal the formation to push forward, instructing Mbami and Leroy to strengthen the midfield pressure.

15 minutes, Paris Saint-Germain 1-0 Monaco.

Fiorese broke through Evra on the right wing and delivered a low cross, which Pauleta tapped into the net before Squillaci could get there!
The Parc des Princes erupted instantly. Pauleta sprinted to the corner flag, pointed both fingers to the sky, and then made a "shush" gesture towards the Monaco bench.

The Paris Saint-Germain manager raised his arms and shouted from the sidelines, while Deschamps frowned and shook his head, clearly dissatisfied with the defense.

19 minutes, Paris Saint-Germain 1-1 Monaco.

Monaco swiftly retaliated!
Ibarra made a run down the right flank, received a pass from Zikos, and crossed from the byline. Giuly flicked the ball on at the near post, and Roy poked it into the net at the far post!

Monaco fans celebrated wildly, while Roy ran to the corner flag and mimicked Pauleta's "shush" gesture in response.

The Paris defense looked at each other in bewilderment, while Cameroonian midfielder Mbami angrily kicked the turf.

37 minutes, Paris Saint-Germain 1-2 Monaco.

Rothen cut inside from the left and delivered a precise through ball, Morientes beat the offside trap and calmly slotted the ball into the far corner!
The Monaco substitutes jumped up, Deschamps clenched his fist and roared, while the Paris coach shouted at the defense from the sidelines for their loose positioning.

47 minutes, Paris Saint-Germain 2-2 Monaco.

Fiorese struck again! During the counter-attack, he delivered a long pass over the top, and Reinaldo Oliveira made a high-speed run, chipping the ball into the net before Roma could react!
Paris fans were filled with renewed hope, Pauleta excitedly embraced Oliveira, while Monaco players encouraged each other, signaling to stay calm.

57 minutes, Paris Saint-Germain 2-3 Monaco.

Monaco took a corner kick, Squillaci headed the ball poorly, Roy cleverly chested it down, and before the ball hit the ground, he volleyed it into the top corner!

The Paris goalkeeper had no chance, while Monaco fans chanted "Roy! Golden Boot!" Roy ran to the sidelines and made a "2" gesture towards the camera, indicating that he had scored his second goal.

85 minutes.

Deschamps brought on the young Ribery to bolster the attack down the flanks, and Paris' defense visibly tensed up.

90 minutes, Paris Saint-Germain 2-4 Monaco

Ribery made a strong run down the left flank past Kubilier and swept the ball across the face of goal. Pedretti ran onto the ball, passed it across, and Giuly easily slotted it home to seal the victory!

Monaco fans went wild, while the Paris players were dejected, with Pauleta standing there with his hands on his hips, his face ashen.

The final whistle blows.

Monaco came from behind to beat Paris Saint-Germain 4-2 away from home!

Roy scored twice and became the man of the match.

After the match, he went to Pauleta and the two shook hands briefly, but their eye contact was still full of tension.

Deschamps celebrated with high-fives to the coaching staff, while the PSG manager quickly walked off the field, clearly extremely dissatisfied with the defensive performance.

Reporter: "Roy, what does this 4-2 victory mean to you? Especially considering you completely dominated the direct confrontation with Pauleta."

Roy wiped the sweat from his brow, a signature smile playing on his lips: "To be honest, all I want to do right now is forget about this game."

The reporters at the scene looked puzzled.

Roy took the bottled water handed to him by the staff and took a leisurely sip.

“I’m more interested in what happens after August 28th,” his eyes suddenly lit up, “which opponents we’ll face in the Champions League.”

This unexpected answer caused a stir in the room.

A L'Équipe reporter pressed further: "Are you saying this victory is over?"

Roy shrugged slightly: "Ligue 1 is just the beginning. The real test is in the Champions League."

He pointed to the Monaco crest on his jersey, "This team's ambitions go far beyond that."

Pauleta was passing by at that moment and noticeably slowed down after hearing these words.

Roy noticed this, paused, and gave a sly smile. "We have a bigger stage in mind."

Pauleta's back visibly stiffened for a moment, but he didn't turn around and quickly left the mixed zone.

On August 28, 2003, the Grimaldi Conference Centre in Monte Carlo, Monaco, will host one of the most important moments in European football – the draw for the new season's Champions League group stage.

In just 24 hours, the Stade Louis II will witness a clash between Champions League champions AC Milan and UEFA Cup winners Porto.

For Monaco's star striker Roy, this summer has been both long and short.

After helping Monaco win the French Ligue 1 title, his sights have already crossed the Mediterranean and are set on the broader European battlefield.

After training each day, the young striker would stay alone at the Stade Louis II, gazing at the familiar grass in a daze.

"I can't wait," Roy said excitedly in an interview with L'Equipe. "Real Madrid has Zidane and Raul, Manchester United has Van Nistelrooy and Ronaldinho, and Milan is absolutely star-studded."

His eyes gleamed with a warrior's eagerness, "But this is the kind of opponent we want."

The head coach also expressed his expectations for the Champions League: "We will not be satisfied with just participating; we want to prove our strength on this stage."

Deschamps appeared more serious than usual on the training ground: "Remember, we're not here to be supporting characters."

In the locker room, veterans of European competitions like Giuly and Morientes were telling the younger players about the awe-inspiring Bernabéu and the fervor of Old Trafford.

The Mediterranean breeze was still gentle, but the entire Monaco team could already sense the approaching big battle.

From the Iberian Peninsula to the Apennine Mountains, from the British Isles to Germany, the powerhouses of European football are gathering.

Manchester United are eager to recreate the glory of 1999, Real Madrid are chasing their tenth Champions League trophy, AC Milan are aiming to defend their title, and Monaco, this young team, is preparing to write their own legend on Europe's biggest stage.

The night before the draw, Roy stood alone on the balcony, gazing at the Mediterranean Sea.

Their opponent will be revealed after tomorrow.

Maybe it's Real Madrid, maybe it's Manchester United, maybe it's Bayern Munich.
However, this team from the Principality of Monaco is ready to meet the challenge.

The landscape of European football is about to welcome a new challenger.

They had been preparing for this moment for far too long this summer.

(End of this chapter)