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Chapter 217: Champions League Semifinals, First Leg End
🕑 Added 2025-10-28 22:28:48 +0000 UTC“Damn it!!”
Pepe was livid.
He felt he’d been humiliated twice, and the rage inside him was boiling over. His eyes darted around the pitch, hunting for that Uruguayan.
This was all that bastard’s fault.
Ramos quickly noticed Pepe’s agitation and rushed over to calm him down. But deep down, he knew—Pepe was a ticking time bomb now.
At this rate, he could do anything.
Ramos glanced toward the touchline, silently pleading for the manager to intervene.
Maybe it was time for a change—let Pepe cool off before something worse happened.
But Carlo Ancelotti didn’t budge. His expression was grim, but his arms stayed folded.
Too early for a substitution. Just fifty minutes gone.
And besides, he wasn’t sure what kind of change would even help.
His gaze shifted toward Cristiano Ronaldo, who had been unusually quiet tonight. Their talisman wasn’t finding his rhythm.
Cristiano could feel it too—the frustration creeping in—but he didn’t show it. Instead, he shouted, urging his teammates on, trying to lift the spirit of the side.
It helped a little, but not enough. The noise couldn’t reach the backline.
And Pepe, right now, wasn’t listening to anyone.
Kai noticed Pepe’s expression from across the pitch and made his way to Suarez.
“Be careful,” he muttered. “That Portuguese bald guy looks ready to kill you.”
Suarez nodded seriously.
He knew Pepe’s temper all too well. After being embarrassed twice, that man could lose it at any moment.
Kai gave a small pat on his shoulder and jogged back into position.
The whistle blew, and Benzema placed the ball at the center circle once again.
It was the first time this season he’d stood there twice for a kickoff in one Champions League game—never a good sign.
It spoke volumes about the kind of night Real Madrid were having.
“Real Madrid trail again, and the pressure’s mounting on Carlo Ancelotti,” said Martin Taylor. “Does he stick or twist here?”
The camera cut to the Real Madrid manager, who stood still, hands behind his back.
Alan Smith added, “He’s calm on the outside, but you can see he’s thinking—especially about Pepe back there. The man’s fuming.”
Ancelotti’s eyes lingered on his defender. He didn’t know whether to pull him off or keep faith. Either choice could backfire.
He could only hope Pepe would keep his head.
Real Madrid, desperate to equalize, began to push harder.
Cristiano Ronaldo led the charge, leaping for every aerial ball like a man possessed.
Kai and Mertesacker had no choice but to jump with him.
After five relentless minutes, Mertesacker looked drained—six full leaps in quick succession, his legs trembling from exhaustion.
But Cristiano and Kai were still going.
Bang!
They rose together again. Kai’s timing gave him the edge; he went up early, but Cristiano adjusted, jumping almost in sync.
Neither was backing down.
It wasn’t just a duel for the ball anymore—it was pride.
Their thighs burned, lungs heavy, but both refused to give in.
Bang!
Kai got to it first, heading the ball clear once more.
As they landed, Cristiano pounded his thighs in frustration; Kai rubbed his legs hard, grimacing.
Their eyes met briefly.
“Your legs are shot,” Cristiano frowned.
“Yours too,” Kai shot back.
They both turned away with a half-grin.
The corner came in again—still looking for Cristiano.
He broke toward the center, ready to soar, but Kai flashed across him like a shadow.
They jumped together—same movement, same determination.
Kai’s explosiveness won out again. He rose faster, clearing the danger once more.
When they landed, Cristiano stumbled; Kai nearly buckled but steadied himself.
Both men laughed breathlessly, shaking their heads.
How was he still jumping? They thought of each other
Even they didn’t know.
Alan Smith chuckled from the commentary box. “You can tell both of them are running on fumes, but neither wants to show it. What a battle this is turning into.”
Martin Taylor added, “It’s pure willpower now—Kai and Ronaldo testing each other’s limits. And right now, neither’s blinking.”
Kai’s one-on-one work on Cristiano Ronaldo had solved a major problem for Arsenal — but it came at a cost.
Because Kai had to stick to Ronaldo like glue, he couldn’t join the attack as much. He was burning energy on defense, and you could see it in every sprint. Fortunately, he wasn’t alone.
Cazorla picked up the slack and began to influence the game. He hadn’t been taking players on much tonight, but when he did this time, he cut through with real purpose — one or two touches, then off into Madrid’s half. Suddenly, Cazorla became a second threat for Arsenal, right behind Kai.
Real Madrid’s back line was solid, though. Still, football is messy, and accidents happen.
A piercing scream cut through the tension.
Suarez was on the turf just outside the box, clutching his leg. Pepe, head down, was swearing like mad. His face had contorted with fury. Cazorla moved toward him — and Pepe shoved him away, grabbing his face.
“You dog! Get lost!” Pepe spat.
Cazorla fell back, covering his face. Before Pepe could finish, he was sent to the floor— landing in obvious pain. Cristiano Ronaldo, who’d been stepping forward, just stood and stared.
Kai had burst forward at full speed and shouldered Pepe clean off his feet. His face was hard, and when Pepe writhed on the ground, Kai shouted, “Get up! Don’t you want to fight? Come on!”
Pepe tried to respond, but the pain in his abdomen stopped him, so he glared instead. Kai leaned in and spat out, “What are you looking at, not so macho?”
Ramos strode across and tapped the back of Kai’s head, saying something under his breath. Kai slapped at him. Ramos looked stunned — and then moved as if to charge. Casillas held him back.
The referee finally arrived. With a sharp blast, teammates hauled Ramos and Kai apart.
Fans in the stands erupted — Arsenal supporters were furious. Pepe’s tackle looked deliberate; they saw it as an attack on Suarez.
“Don’t lie there and play the victim!” one section yelled.
“Get up, bastard!” another screamed.
They called out furiously to Pepe, playing the victim.
The situation was boiling over, so the referee acted. He walked to Pepe and showed him a straight red. Then, after a beat of hesitation, he pulled a yellow from his pocket and booked Kai.
Kai barely registered the card. He went straight to Suarez’s side.
“How is he?” he asked.
Dr. Gary shook his head slowly.
“Can’t continue,” he said, crossing his arms and gesturing to the bench.
Two stewards carried a stretcher onto the pitch and took Suarez off.
Kai’s face went ashen. He’d warned Suarez, but he’d underestimated how vicious Pepe could be. Suarez going off hurt Arsenal badly — even if Real Madrid had paid the price with a red.
In the commentary box, Martin Taylor summed it up: “Suarez is out, and that’s a real blow for Arsenal. You never want to see a player carried off.”
Alan Smith added, “Pepe’s challenge was retaliation — reckless and dangerous, and the red was justified. Kai stood up for his teammate and took a booking for it. He’s brave — but he’s also picked a fight with two of Real Madrid’s toughest figures. That takes guts.”
Kai retreated to his half with his shoulders heavy and his jaw set. If no one had intervened, he might have gone after Ramos properly. It was the heat of the moment. But in those moments, walking away is sometimes the only sensible choice.
The once-fiery Champions League semi-final had turned sour — tension thick enough to cut through with a knife.
Both sides were seething. Arsenal’s players were full of anger, while Real Madrid’s frustration simmered dangerously close to the surface. Challenges grew harder, tempers shorter. The referee had to flash two more yellow cards just to calm things down.
Pepe’s red card had left Madrid a man short, and the Spanish giants clearly lost some of their bite. Arsenal, despite losing Suarez, pushed forward through Walcott’s pace and Rosický’s creativity.
Suarez’s replacement, young Sanogo, seized the moment with determination. It was a difficult situation, but for him, this was also a golden chance to prove himself.
Real Madrid made quick tactical changes. Carlo Ancelotti switched to a conservative shape, sacrificing Benzema to reinforce the defense. A 4-3-2 setup took shape — damage control mode. He wasn’t chasing an equalizer anymore. His focus was survival — keep the scoreline tight and regroup back in Madrid.
Arsenal smelled blood. They wanted another goal, a cushion to carry into the second leg.
But with ten men entrenched behind the ball, Real Madrid were stubborn. Every gap was closed, every shot blocked. When the final whistle blew, Arsenal had won 2–1 — a valuable victory, but one tinged with unease.
Martin Taylor: “A big win for Arsenal in the first leg — but it’s not without cost. Suarez’s injury is a huge concern. They’ve got the lead, but the loss of their main striker could have major repercussions in both the Premier League and the Champions League.”
Alan Smith: “You’re right, Martin. Pepe’s red card will hurt Madrid, but they’ve got depth in defense. Arsenal, though… Suarez’s absence will really test their squad depth.”
When the final whistle echoed, Kai didn’t even pause. He brushed past everyone — even Cristiano Ronaldo’s outstretched hand — and strode straight down the tunnel.
Inside the locker room, he found Suarez still seated with the medical staff. The sight eased his mind slightly.
If Suarez was still here, it couldn’t be too bad.
Kai knelt beside him. “How’s it looking?”
Suarez grinned through the pain. “Just a strain. I’ll be fine after some rest.”
Kai blinked. “Just a strain? Looked a lot worse from the pitch.”
Suarez rolled up his shorts, revealing three nasty scratches down his thigh — already cleaned and bandaged. “Pepe’s studs caught me. Flesh wounds, that’s all.”
Kai let out a long breath and turned to Dr. Gary. “Can he play the next match?”
Lewin shook his head. “No chance. He’ll need a few weeks at least.”
Kai sighed heavily. Suarez’s injury wasn’t catastrophic, but it was still a major setback.
When the rest of the team arrived, everyone crowded around Suarez. Relief washed through the room when they heard it wasn’t serious — though disappointment lingered knowing he’d miss upcoming fixtures.
Kai clapped Suarez on the shoulder and smiled. “Rest up. We’ll bring that Champions League trophy back for you.”
Suarez chuckled softly, warmth flickering behind tired eyes. He appreciated it — even if guilt gnawed at him. Everyone was fighting for the same dream, and now he’d have to watch from the sidelines.
Outside the dressing room, headlines were already taking shape.
In England, Suarez was being defended — Pepe’s tackle branded “disgraceful” and “cowardly.”
In Spain, however, the tabloids were spinning their own story: “Did Suarez Bite Again?”
Even though replays clearly showed Pepe’s hand near Suarez’s mouth, still photos made it look incriminating — Suarez’s grimace captured at just the wrong moment.
It didn’t help that both men already had reputations: one for temper, the other for… well, biting. Fans on both sides dug in, defending their own.
But the Suarez-Pepe saga wasn’t the only thing making headlines.
Kai and Ramos had stolen the spotlight, too — their altercation had gone viral.
Ramos, not one to take humiliation lightly, hit back on social media:
“A coward who hides behind his teammates. @Lekai”
Kai’s reply came quickly:
“You sure you’re not talking about yourself? If Casillas hadn’t held you back, you’d be lying next to Pepe. 💪”
It was short, sharp, and brutal. The online feud sent the football world into a frenzy — pundits, fans, and tabloids all jumping into the fray.
But Kai didn’t engage any further. He had no time for drama — not with the Premier League still raging, and Madrid waiting for revenge in the second leg.
