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Chapter 214: Champions League Semifinals, First Leg 4
🕑 Added 2025-10-26 13:26:42 +0000 UTCIn the 13th minute, Arsenal stunned everyone by taking the lead—something few had seen coming.
That goal, however, did more than ignite the Emirates—it lit a fire under Real Madrid’s front line.
From the restart, Madrid came charging forward with ruthless intent. The BBC trio—Bale, Benzema, and Cristiano Ronaldo—immediately began to press Arsenal’s back line, their pace and precision putting the Gunners under immense pressure.
Arsenal’s midfield soaked up the pressure, but even with Kai anchoring the center, it wasn't easy to contain that much talent at once. And then there was Modrić—constantly threading dangerous passes through the tightest spaces.
Rather than losing focus after going behind, Madrid’s intensity only grew.
Cristiano Ronaldo, in particular, looked like a man possessed. Arsenal were now feeling what it meant to face two of the world’s most fearsome attackers.
Every time Ronaldo entered shooting range, the air seemed to tighten. He could score from anywhere—left, right, or center—and Modrić was always lurking, ready to deliver another pinpoint pass.
Ronaldo’s aerial threat was another nightmare altogether. Even Mertesacker, standing nearly two meters tall, couldn’t fully contain him. The timing of Ronaldo’s leaps, his reading of the ball’s flight—it was almost unnatural.
Kai had his own battle on the opposite side. Bale had started to drop deep to receive the ball, dragging Kai out of position before exploding down the flank with terrifying speed.
Although Kai made several vital interceptions, Bale managed to slip past him a few times with his speed. Fortunately, Arsenal’s defensive rotations were sharp; the team’s coordination made up for individual lapses.
Meanwhile, Arsenal were not simply defending. They had noticed Pepe—already on a yellow card—and began targeting him with quick passes and sharp runs, forcing him into uncomfortable positions. Pepe fumed but could do little; he had brought it on himself.
Arsenal also managed to carve out a few counter-attacks, but with Walcott tightly marked and Rosický lacking the burst for fast transitions, their breakaways fizzled out. After a few failed attempts, Arsenal switched tactics, settling into a controlled, possession-based rhythm.
With only one true wing threat, they focused on stability. Rosický wasn’t a sprinter—he was there to keep the midfield calm and structured.
Even so, Arsenal continued to trade blows with Real Madrid.
Madrid’s record in this season’s Champions League had been terrifying. Nine goals over two legs against Schalke, six more against Manchester United in the quarter-finals—their attack was a machine.
With Modrić pulling the strings, the BBC trio usually ran rampant. Yet against Arsenal, they looked… restrained.
Ronaldo was tightly shadowed—Ramsey barely left his side. Bale’s pace caused problems, yes, but Gibbs’ timely support created a trap each time he tried to cut inside. Benzema, caught between Arsenal’s center-backs, found himself isolated and frustrated.
It wasn’t that Madrid were toothless—they couldn’t link together. Too many solo efforts, not enough cohesion.
Ancelotti, standing on the touchline, frowned slightly but couldn’t hide a flicker of admiration.
Trust Wenger to pull something like this.
Most managers facing the BBC trio tried to contain Ronaldo, the shell of Madrid’s artillery. But that was nearly impossible; focus too much on him, and Bale or Benzema would strike from the shadows.
Wenger, however, had flipped the script.
Rather than trying to stop Ronaldo directly, Arsenal split the trio apart—cutting off Benzema’s link-up play and limiting Bale’s runs. Without their connective play, Madrid’s artillery still had shells—but no cannon to fire them.
The match was turning into a fascinating tactical duel.
Midway through the first half, Modrić received the ball near midfield. Kai darted in with a sliding challenge, but Modrić shifted his body just enough to stay on his feet, maintaining control.
Kai’s eyes widened slightly. The Croatian looked wiry, but he was remarkably strong on the ball.
Recovering quickly, Modrić slipped a pass to Xabi Alonso, who immediately recycled it forward.
Kai retreated into position, his expression tight with focus. He had expected Madrid to be strong, but their midfield stability was even greater than he imagined.
Arsenal’s central core—Suárez, Cazorla, and Kai—was formidable, but Madrid’s axis of Benzema, Modrić, and Alonso was equally elite. Six players capable of running a match—and neither side giving an inch.
The real battles, though, were on the wings. And against Madrid’s duo of Bale and Ronaldo, Arsenal’s flanks were under siege.
Rosický and Walcott did their best, but it was a tall order. Arsenal’s fragmentation tactic required constant running—if their stamina dipped, Madrid would inevitably find gaps.
By the 38th minute, Madrid were still hammering at Arsenal’s goal.
Szczęsny, after a shaky start, was now playing the match of his life—diving left and right, parrying shots, even saving a Ronaldo knuckleball that had “goal” written all over it.
But that, too, told a story. Arsenal were being forced back, playing more reactively than they’d like.
Then—thwack!
The sharp sound of the ball smacking the net echoed around the area.
Every Arsenal defender froze, eyes darting to the referee.
The whistle blew.
The referee pointed toward the corner flag.
A collective breath of relief swept through Arsenal’s backline.
Not a goal—just a corner.
The ball grazed the outside of the net.
Arsenal’s players collectively exhaled — a brief moment of relief.
But as Cristiano Ronaldo and the others charged into the box again, that relief quickly turned bitter.
Kai moved toward Ronaldo. He and Mertesacker were going to double up on him.
After several defensive duels, it was clear that Mertesacker couldn’t contain Ronaldo alone — Kai had to step in to plug that gap.
“Stay tight on your marks! Don’t get dragged out of position!” Kai barked out, voice cutting through the noise.
Ronaldo pressed forward, body coiled like a spring. Kai met him head-on, digging in his heels, refusing to give an inch.
After a tense moment of grappling, Ronaldo said, “Nice muscles.”
Kai blinked.
“What?”
Seeing his puzzled expression, Ronaldo quickly added, “Don’t get me wrong — I’m just saying, you’ve trained well.”
Kai raised a brow, half amused. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Ronaldo shrugged. “No need to thank me.”
And just like that, he burst into a sprint. Kai anticipated it, shadowing him stride for stride toward the near post.
By then, Modrić had already swung the corner in.
Foresight blared.
But it was too late.
Kai tried to move to the back post but was blocked off by Ronald, “Good instincts… but too late!”
As both looked on, Ramos had already peeled off toward the far post, rising high above everyone. His header sent the ball skimming downward, bouncing once before rippling the net.
In the 42nd minute, Real Madrid were level — Ramos with the equalizer!
Kai let out a quiet sigh.
They’d been too focused on Ronaldo.
He had drawn both Kai and Mertesacker toward the near post, while the others crashed in to create chaos. Ramos slipped away unnoticed, timing his run perfectly to the back post.
It was a well-rehearsed Real Madrid set piece — and Arsenal hadn’t adapted in time.
One wrong move, and the whole structure fell apart.
“Ramos! He’s brought Real Madrid back on level terms!” Martin Taylor exclaimed.
Alan Smith chimed in, “Just before the break as well — and suddenly it’s all square again at the Emirates!”
The Spanish fans were ecstatic, with them shouting, “¡Ramos! ¡Golazo! Hala Madrid!”
