Milan Has Only One Boss

"The match is not over yet, but Inter Milan has already lost."

"Facts have proven that Sampdoria's blue is much purer. Milan's giants have fallen to Sampdoria twice in a row. Will there be a third time in the second half of the season? Perhaps AC Milan can defend the final honor of Milan city, perhaps?"

Martin Tyler joked.

As an Englishman, he was very reluctant to admit that Serie A was ahead of the English league.

However, Sampdoria was the best team in the world in his heart. Every time he commentated on a Sampdoria match, he could feel joy.

Nobody wanted to watch long balls and headers flying all over the sky forever.

Harry, in front of the television, could not help clenching his fists.

He just knew it, Sampdoria couldn't possibly lose.

"Why are you so excited? Once the suspension is lifted, our team will win the championship again very soon," William said with some displeasure.

"Yes, brother."

Harry said with a smile on his face.

William didn't speak anymore.

The San Siro had transformed into an ocean of joy, and the East Germans were once again celebrating along with them.

These guys probably wanted to spend Christmas in Italy.

"...Come on, Doria, come on, Sampdoria." The singing echoed in every corner of the city.

The singing rang through the heavens, drifting continuously in the night sky of Milan.

On such a crazy night, they wouldn't be surprised no matter what else happened.

Now everyone firmly believed that victory belonged to Sampdoria.

"Let's celebrate tonight, it's on me."

Returning to the center circle, Mancini said.

"Forget it, I'll treat!" Lu Deyang smiled and waved his hand.

He had just received endorsement fees amounting to several million, an amount roughly equivalent to the entire team's salary.

"I just remembered this bastard has made a lot of money."

Mancini said with a trace of envy.

Vialli nodded along.

At this rate, in a few more years, Lu Deyang could surpass three generations of his family's accumulated wealth through his own hard work.

Matthäus struggled to regulate his breathing.

Yet his lungs still sounded like a broken bellows, burning with pain.

The reason he had worked so hard today was precisely to fear such an outcome.

Though he claimed in public that Maradona, Lu Deyang, and the Three Dutchmen were no match for him, he had a very clear understanding of their abilities.

However, only now did he realize that he was still too naive.

Lu Deyang was far stronger than he had imagined.

If he could go back one minute, he certainly wouldn't think that Lu Deyang coming off the bench was useless, even though regular time was almost over.

"Defend! They are no match for us in extra time!"

Baresi shouted.

"Right, everyone push hard and maintain the current score!"

Bergomi shouted along.

In terms of the depth and quality of the two teams' substitutes, Inter Milan still held the upper hand.

This world-class defender didn't even feel that the rapid turnaround was too astonishing; it was mainly because everything Lu Deyang brought had made them slowly start to get used to it.

That young opponent, who always wore a smile, possessed an astonishing sense of oppression during the match.

Though the two men didn't communicate, they both felt this point: as long as you gave him the slightest bit of space, he would find a way to create a goal.

This was a deeply absurd sense of helplessness. Baresi felt that even if he were at his peak, he might not necessarily be able to completely shut down Lu Deyang.

Because the 26-year-old Bergomi was equally helpless.

"Defend!!!"

Matthäus shouted along.

He didn't want to lose.

Inter Milan, restarting the match, adopted the mindset of defending desperately until the very end, and their passing became much more cautious.

Who could have imagined that this was a team that had suppressed their opponents for 86 minutes?

Lu Deyang did not push forward again.

Having conceded two goals in quick succession, his teammates' mental state had relaxed somewhat, and this was precisely the moment when they were most vulnerable to being killed off by a sudden counterattack.

Therefore, he quietly retreated a bit, preparing to provide defensive cover for his teammates.

Seeing his teammates pressing up only confirmed his thought.

Chance!

Brehme noticed that Sampdoria's backline was empty, and upon receiving a pass from a teammate, he immediately punted the ball long into Sampdoria's half.

Let the forwards run for it.

Even if it didn't create a scoring opportunity, it could at least waste time.

As long as they entered extra time, adjusted their mentality, and made substitutions, victory would surely still belong to them.

The ball flew directly toward Sampdoria's right flank.

However, at that very moment, Mannini, who was trying to track back, suddenly discovered that Lu Deyang had already appeared behind him.

This outstanding full-back couldn't help feeling a tinge of self-blame; he couldn't keep pressing up like this anymore.

Just as he prepared to run back to his position, Mannini was suddenly surprised to see Lu Deyang plant his left foot, swing his right leg directly to meet the falling ball, and lash out.

Right there in front of the opposing forward, he kicked the ball all the way back into their half with a single stroke.

Bang—

Mannini instinctively turned his head, his mouth immediately flying open.

Shit, was this not a clearance, what the hell was it?

He saw the ball flying once again toward the area in front of the right side of Inter's penalty box.

This time Bergomi reacted quickly, but he was still a step slower than Vialli.

The top-class defender was confident that within a few steps he could find an opportunity to tackle, because the two of them had physical contact.

However, Vialli received the ball too close to the penalty area, forcing Bergomi to take a risky attempt.

Damn it!

He deliberately used his body to squeeze Vialli to prevent him from shooting, but unexpectedly, the opponent stumbled forward into the penalty area instead, quickly readjusting his center of gravity and standing firm.

That deficit of less than half a body length completely turned into falling behind by half a body length.

Finished!

Sure enough, as soon as Vialli entered the penalty area, he instantly twisted his body to deliver a low cross. The ball rolled swiftly toward the middle of the box, and Mancini, rushing up once again, poked it into the bottom right corner of the net ahead of everyone else.

2:3, the tables have turned!!!

The fourth official on the touchline had just raised the extra time board: 5 minutes, exactly as Rossi had predicted.

Just as much as Inter's players had previously longed for extra time to start immediately, they now wished extra time could be even longer.

Zenga lying powerlessly inside the penalty area was merely a microcosm; even captain Baresi sat down inside the box, looking helplessly out at the pitch.

The Sampdoria players cheered and leaped, celebrating wildly in their opponent's stadium.

Baresi had once sworn to defend the honor of their home ground, but he had truly given his all.

"...Goodbye, my love, goodbye, my love, you are so charming, come on, my love is sent to you..." Massimo Moratti in the stands murmured the lyrics of his favorite song.

This was a 1969 love song, "Ciao ciao bambina," the era when the Great Inter Milan era arrived.

Yet the cheerful melody couldn't help but make people weep. Why was that?

Giovanni Trapattoni patted the cuffs of his suit in disappointment, maintaining his final shred of dignity.

Even if they were going to lose, they couldn't lose too ignominiously.

"Get up!!!"

Baresi pulled Bergomi to his feet.

"Captain..."

"Get up," Baresi said, pulling his arm. "They can score one goal a minute; we still have five minutes left. Now is not the time to be dejected, this isn't what we should be doing."

"I know!"

Bergomi nodded and said.

He was never a particularly sentimental person.

It was just that today Sampdoria's goals, one after another, had dealt too heavy a blow to him.

"Lads, we only need one goal, just one!!!"

Baresi shouted at the top of his lungs.

Even if he didn't want to let his brother and his teammates become the laughingstock, he had every reason to keep fighting.

Lu Deyang also noticed everything happening in Inter's half.

In this era, any team—even if you plucked a hardman at random from their substitutes' bench—was tough, and defeating them was no easy task.

"Be careful, hold on!"

Boskov reminded.

He had already prepared to give up earlier.

But the championship was within arm's reach, and he didn't want to throw it away just like that.

Inter Milan, restarting the match once more, adopted a completely different attitude; they became the side that desperately wanted a goal.

Vialli charged straight up, and Lombardy wanted to follow up and press, but Lu Deyang shouted: "Get back, don't press up."

Did they really think Inter Milan were pushovers?

With this current starting lineup, half of Inter's players could launch a long-range shot from 30 meters out.

If they truly gave them a chance, they would have to play extra time.

Matthäus had recovered some stamina and charged toward Sampdoria's half with the ball once more.

Dossena was brushed aside by him in a single encounter.

The frenzied German completely ignored physical collisions.

"Get back!"

Lanna shouted, telling Pari not to leave the central midfield.

Otherwise, Matthäus would find the central area too empty.

Damn it, he shouldn't have trusted this kid.

Pari stood in the center and saw that Lanna hadn't even touched Matthäus's shirt before being faked out by a body feint.

Fortunately, Vierchowod covered in time, giving Matthäus no chance to pass and dogging his steps all the way to the endline.

With no other options, Matthäus could only turn and smash the ball against Vierchowod's leg to win a corner kick.

"Two minutes of stoppage time have already passed. If Inter Milan want to enter extra time, they have to try a bit harder."

"Zenga has also gone up to participate in the corner kick attack. The Italian goalkeeper knows very well that this chance didn't come easily... It's taken, a melee at the near post! Vierchowod! The clearance wasn't cleared out of the box, and Brehme's powerful shot is blocked by Pagliuca out over the endline once again."

"Zenga starts running back. He realizes there's no space for him in the box, there are simply too many people inside. The goalkeeper chooses to return to his own box after all."

"The corner kick is taken again... This ball is hit too deep, going straight to the far post, Mannini!!! He fires the ball toward the front court. Mancini, Zenga hasn't made it back to his penalty box yet, what happens now?"

Zenga provided the answer.

He directly brought down Mancini with a tackle.

Red card!

No hesitation whatsoever.

He traded a red card for an opportunity; a free-kick was always better than conceding a direct goal.

Although time was short, if his teammates held firm, perhaps they could launch one more counterattack.

Astutillo Malgioglio was forced onto the pitch with barely any warm-up, replacing the exhausted Matthäus.

The German looked back every three steps as he walked off, finally crossing the white line.

"Should I take it?"

Mancini asked.

This distance was a bit far.

"Go into the box, I'll take it," Lu Deyang said.

Mancini turned and walked toward Inter's penalty area.

The box was packed with people, and players from both sides were ready to contest the cross.

The newly substituted Malgioglio took a deep breath.

In his impression, this was the first time Lu Deyang had taken a set-piece, but judging by Lu Deyang's ball-striking technique, he must possess a formidable free-kick ability.

The 32-year-old veteran goalkeeper never expected such a day would come—coming on as a substitute in a final, and with just the last few dozen seconds remaining, no less.

Neither his body nor his mind was prepared for this.

Hoo—

Astutillo Malgioglio took another long breath, violently clapping his hands together so hard that his gloves popped loudly.

"Come on!"

Malgioglio shouted.

After the referee signaled, Lu Deyang, standing just behind and to the left of the ball, took a step with his left foot and curled his right foot right into it.

Bang—

The ball traced a significant curve and traveled at high speed.

Players from both sides rushed toward the goal while trying to gauge the ball's trajectory.

A cross or a shot?

A ball coming straight at you was not easy to judge.

However, Mancini felt this might be a pass.

Because he had already scored two goals, and one more would complete a hat-trick.

Yes, Lu Deyang would pass it to him!

With that judgment in mind, Mancini prepared himself while running.

Yet the ball still arrived somewhat too fast. Seeing this, he hurriedly exerted force with both legs and leaped into the air, jumping sideways relative to the goal.

Whoosh—

A grazing sensation across his scalp brought a hint of pain.

Yet his heart was filled with wild ecstasy.

The moment he turned his head, he saw the goalkeeper right in front of him, while the ball had already settled into the back of the net.

It's in!!!

The whistle blew, and the referee pointed to the center circle!

Goal counts, hat-trick!!!

Beep,

beep,

beep——

With just over 10 seconds left, the referee did not let Inter Milan restart the match, blowing the final whistle for the end of the game right away.

A deliriously happy Mancini rushed toward Lu Deyang at the first instance, instantly leaping onto Lu Deyang's back and raising his right arm to pump it frantically.

As the final whistle sounded, Sampdoria's coaching staff and substitutes also stormed onto the pitch.

The rest of the players weren't much different, rushing over and instantly submerging Lu Deyang and Mancini.

Everyone knew what victory was owed to today.

This was no longer a simple Coppa Italia; this was a comeback, a stoppage-time winner, the most exhilarating moment on the pitch.

Lu Deyang didn't even have time to resist before he was grabbed by his excited teammates and tossed high into the night sky of Milan, over and over again.

"Doria!!!"

"Deyang!!!"

"Doria!!!"

"Deyang!!!"

"Doria!!!"

"Deyang!!!"

Sampdoria fans chanted the hero's name.

With three assists and one goal, Lu Deyang fully deserved it.

This was the ultimate individual heroism, the textbook example of changing the match's outcome single-handedly on the football field.

In a total of eight minutes, that young number seven had thoroughly slain Inter Milan, without leaving even a shred of opportunity.

Today was destined to be a heartbreaking, sleepless night for the Nerazzurri.

The alcohol sales in Milan's bars were bound to rise once more.

In the same city, inside a villa.

Paolo Maldini stared blankly at the celebrating Sampdoria players on television.

Defeated again.

He should have been happy that their cross-town rivals lost.

Yet Inter Milan had fallen at the feet of the same opponent once more.

It made him see even more things.

After equalizing, Lu Deyang had actually chosen to track back and defend.

That young man was frighteningly calm.

Incomparable skill, coupled with such a clear head.

Maldini even wanted to know if he was some kind of latest-model robot.

Why could he always make the right choice?

What worried the football scion even more was this:

In a few days, they would face Sampdoria. Facing such an opponent, could the Rossoneri truly defend the honor of Milan city?