Chapter 304: Chapter 9: The Shot Caller

Lodina’s face gradually showed a smile.

He finally found the “problem” within Real Madrid.

Some people wanted to play personal heroism, while the majority focused on teamwork.

Some only trusted themselves, thinking others were “harming” them.

Yet most people were operating smoothly around one person.

The match finally reached a turning point, in the 30th minute, when Ronaldo tried to break through on the left.

After a few feints, his ball was intercepted, and Deportivo La Coruña launched a quick counterattack.

They completed a beautiful 45-degree cross from the right, and an unprepared Real Madrid could only hope Casillas would perform exceptionally in defense.

Unfortunately, Casillas was outplayed.

He could only watch the ball enter the net.

The score was finally changed to 3:1.

The Deportivo La Coruña players were ecstatic; they ran to the corner flag to celebrate wildly, and some even ran to Ronaldo to taunt: “You’re not top-paid, you’re not top-paid.”

Ronaldo’s face was grim, muttering to himself, clearly disturbed by it all.

He even seemed somewhat defeated.

“Oh no, this!”

“Ronaldo needs more teamwork with his teammates.”

“He needs to trust his teammates!”

“Right now, he’s completely out of the team’s system.”

With Cristiano Ronaldo, you either love him or hate him.

This was his first appearance for Real Madrid in La Liga, and it’s evident he wanted to show his abilities on the pitch, to tell everyone he deserved the salary, the transfer fee, and even more.

But his performance didn’t reflect that.

In his choice of possession, he needed to be more reasonable.

He couldn’t act like when he first joined Manchester United, always wanting to perform rigid “tricks” on the flanks, his upper body stiff as a rock—who knows who joked about that.

In no time, it became common consensus among most people.

They watched Ronaldo’s stepovers, not applauding but giving boos instead.

“Pass the ball!”

“Pass the ball, you idiot!”

“What would it cost you to pass once, you damn fool.”

Fans cursed passionately, for if they hadn’t seen the light, they could have tolerated the darkness.

But in the first half, Real Madrid played so smoothly, so fluently, yet it was all ruined by this damn, foreign, Portuguese player.

The more the fans booed and cursed!

The more Ronaldo wanted to prove himself; he clenched his teeth, trying once again to dribble past, but was intercepted again by Deportivo La Coruña’s players.

Fortunately, this time Marcelo covered for him.

“Hey!”

Ronaldo shouted loudly, raising his right hand, with an urgent expression.

This was a good counterattack opportunity, he was sure.

As long as Marcelo passed him the ball, and then…

Ronaldo’s plan fell apart because Marcelo unhesitatingly passed the ball to Chen Zhong in the center, who directly played it out to Pirlo for a through ball.

The ball cut through Deportivo La Coruña’s defense, and Kaka charged from the side, going for a one-on-one.

“A smooth attack.”

“Consecutive one-touch passes.”

“Pirlo’s through ball tore through Deportivo La Coruña’s defense.”

“Kaka’s one-on-one!”

Kaka was almost on a one-on-one, but a side Deportivo La Coruña player committed a tactical foul to halt Kaka’s attack.

The Deportivo La Coruña fans on the stands let out relieved sounds.

While the Real Madrid fans booed to express their dissatisfaction.

“Ahh!”

“That was almost a guaranteed one-on-one.”

“The referee blew the whistle, giving a front-field free kick opportunity.”

“And showed a yellow card to the fouling player.”

“This is an excellent spot for a free kick.”

“Pirlo and Kaka both looked at Chen Zhong.”

“Chen Zhong walked over.”

Pirlo and Kaka both looked at Chen Zhong, both capable of scoring from free kicks.

“Do you want to take a shot?”

“Or play a set piece?”

Pirlo looked at Chen Zhong, smiling as he said: “Honestly, I think I can try a direct shot.”

It seemed Pirlo and Kaka had already discussed it.

Chen Zhong looked at Pirlo’s smiling face, leaned over and whispered in his ear: “Do you see that poor guy in the #7 jersey?”

“Give him a chance to perform!”

“Otherwise, the fans might boo him to death.”

“He’s having a hard time too.”

“Haha,” Pirlo chuckled, eyeing Ronaldo sneaking glances over, then squinting at Chen Zhong: “At the Bernabeu, do I dare not give you face?”

Chen Zhong punched Pirlo’s chest, Pirlo clutched his chest, laughing, Kaka also showing white teeth in a smile—such a picture of tranquility!

Not far away, Negredo stood with hands on hips, looking at Chen Zhong’s happy face, curled his lips, full of “envy.”

“Cristiano!”

“Yes! It’s you!”

“Come over?”

Ronaldo, hearing Chen Zhong’s call, seemed incredulous, pointing at his nose, as if asking, me? You’re calling me?

“Yes, it’s you!” Chen Zhong seemed to hear Ronaldo’s inner voice, speaking: “You take this free-kick!”

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