Chapter 255: Damn, Messi, You're Actually Going All Out?!
Having once again scored a last-minute winner to seal all three points for the team, Li Ang was in high spirits.
He could feel it—he was just one step closer to lifting the first Premier League trophy of his career. And next up? Barcelona.
To boost morale even further, Li Ang generously invited the entire team out for dinner after the match.
After completing post-match treatments, getting a shower, and giving a few interviews, it was around 5 p.m. when they were ready to head out. Perfect timing to get to the restaurant, relax a bit, chat, and wait for food.
Many of Chelsea's younger players hadn't even played in a Champions League Round of 16 before this season, let alone a quarterfinal.
And now, they were facing Barcelona, one of Europe's greatest powerhouses. It was only natural that a mix of anticipation and nerves would creep in.
So along the way and at the restaurant, the younger guys took every opportunity to pick the brains of the veterans about handling high-stakes Champions League clashes.
Li Ang wasn't spared from this barrage of questions.
Despite still being relatively young, his experience—especially in big Champions League matches—was easily on par with Lampard and Terry.
After all, he'd made decisive contributions in back-to-back Champions League finals. His clutch performances had earned him the admiration of Chelsea's young guns.
But when it came to explaining his know-how, Li Ang clearly wasn't as smooth-talking as the true veterans.
For instance, when Hazard asked him how he always managed to find space and deliver assists in the Champions League finals, Li Ang scratched his head and shrugged.
"Well, it's like this—either you beat your marker one-on-one, or you win the physical battle.
Once you blow past your guy, someone else will have to rotate over to cover. And when that happens… boom, passing lanes open up."
As soon as he finished, the entire private room erupted in boos and laughter.
Alright, fair enough. Even Li Ang had to admit—his explanation did sound like the kind of humblebrag you'd expect from someone like Michael Jordan.
It was like MJ saying, "You just drive in, pump-fake the center, hang in the air for an extra second, and score. Simple."
But the truth was, that really was how Li Ang had done it in those finals.
If you had to break it down into something resembling a technique? It would be high football IQ combined with favorable matchups that gave him constant chances to exploit.
In the 2012 final, going up against Lampard and Ramires, he'd opted for brute strength.
In the 2013 final, he not only shut down Kroos and Müller, but whenever he was matched up against Javi Martínez, he used his pace to run circles around him.
After offering a slightly more detailed explanation, Li Ang watched De Bruyne and Hazard nod along thoughtfully and felt quite proud.
Then he turned and saw Lukaku sitting there looking utterly lost.
Suppressing a sigh, he reached over and patted the big man on the head.
"You don't need to get all technical like these guys. Listen to me: just work on your explosive sprints down the flank. Master that inside-cut-to-shoot from the right side.
If you get those two things down, you'll be fine—club level, national team, anywhere. Got it?"
"Oh… okay! I got you, boss…"
Li Ang nodded with a smile and gave Lukaku a bit of encouragement.
The guy wasn't dumb, just… well, a bit dopey. Ask him to get fancy on the pitch, and he'd probably trip over his own feet.
But as long as he didn't bulk up unnecessarily, if he could refine those fundamental wide forward techniques—low crosses from the touchline, inside cuts into shots—he could ride that to a solid career.
If he stayed disciplined, maybe, just maybe, Belgium could even bag a major international title with De Bruyne and Hazard leading the charge.
Back at the restaurant, the atmosphere was buzzing. The first team players were eating, chatting, and enjoying themselves in high spirits.
Just as the dinner was winding down, a sudden burst of news sent the party into overdrive.
"Manchester City were equalized by Arsenal at the death! Cavani came off the bench in the second half and scored the equalizer—we're 10 points ahead of City now!"
Bertrand waved his phone in the air and started shaking his hips in the middle of the room.
"For real? We're up three whole wins now?!"
"Quick, quick! How many more wins do we need to clinch the title early?!"
"We just wrapped the make-up game and Matchday 32! Forget the math—three more wins and we can start planning the title celebration!"
The room exploded with cheers and whistles.
That last-minute equalizer from Arsenal felt like a shot of adrenaline for Chelsea.
The celebration went on for a while, until Terry stepped in to stop a few overly hyped teammates from running off to a nightclub to keep the party going.
As they all went their separate ways and headed home for the night, news of the draw between City and Arsenal spread across the English football world.
Naturally, Li Ang's bold prediction—that Chelsea would win the league early—was dug back up and re-circulated by mischievous fans.
But now, with Chelsea 10 points clear and only six games left in the season, no one dared say they'd blow it.
The Premier League title race was essentially over. Chelsea could pop the champagne early.
Still, most Chelsea fans online weren't getting too cocky.
The closer they got to the trophy, the more calm and composed they became.
The next day, during recovery training, Mourinho echoed that sentiment.
He gave a speech urging the squad to stay grounded and focused.
Veteran leaders in the squad, many of whom had lifted titles before, stepped up too—helping settle down the younger players.
That was the value of experienced champions—they knew how to manage emotions in the final stretch.
With morale sky-high and good news all around, Chelsea's momentum was unstoppable.
After two and a half days of rest, on April 1st, after lunch at Cobham, Mourinho led the team onto a flight bound for Barcelona.
And the training ground Chelsea rented in Barcelona? It was one Mourinho and Li Ang knew very well.
They were welcomed with open arms at the Ciutat Esportiva Dani Jarque, training base of Espanyol.
To be fair, any team coming to Barcelona to face Barça would receive such a warm welcome from Espanyol.
In other words—Espanyol might not be able to beat Barça themselves, but they'd always support anyone who could make life difficult for them.
After a light session at the familiar training ground, the Chelsea squad boarded their team bus and headed to Camp Nou for their pre-match walk-through.
Along the way, they were greeted with the usual "warm" reception from Barça fans—lined up along the roads, hurling jeers and taunts at the passing bus.
Ah, now this was the vibe.
If Mourinho hadn't specifically warned him not to stir trouble, Li Ang would've rolled down the window and had a "friendly chat" with the locals.
On the way to and from Camp Nou, the entire Chelsea squad got a taste of the passion (and hostility) of Barça supporters.
Thankfully, that night, they weren't disturbed during rest.
Well, not exactly.
A small group of Barça ultras did manage to find their hotel and made some noise nearby.
But Espanyol fans, stepping in like true heroes, along with local police intervention, quickly broke things up and sent the troublemakers packing.
Overall, among Europe's elite clubs, the fan bases rarely went full hooligan mode like some Eastern European outfits.
And besides, most real supporters of top clubs still cared about public image.
Going to an away team's hotel and causing a ruckus all night? That wasn't typical behavior for a club of Barça's stature.
Unless… the visitors were Real Madrid.
Then all bets were off—when it came to their eternal rivals, Barça fans didn't bother playing nice.
The real heat between Chelsea and Barça had cooled off since the pre-2010 era.
The last major clash was in the 2011–2012 season, when Chelsea's "Old Boys" famously knocked Barça out of the Champions League.
There hadn't been much bad blood since then—mostly because Barça had gone on to dominate Europe, while Chelsea had been rebuilding.
So, aside from the Mourinho and Li Ang factors, there was still a thin veneer of "peace" between the clubs… for now.
But everyone knew: once this knockout tie kicked off, the media war and fanbase flame wars would reignite in full force.
On the morning of April 2nd, Chelsea completed their final pre-match training session at Espanyol's training base in Barcelona.
And before this highly anticipated clash even kicked off, a wave of support for Li Ang and Mourinho had already started pouring in on social media—from none other than Real Madrid's galaxy of stars.
Had Chelsea been playing against any other team, Madrid's players wouldn't have openly shown their support.
But since the opponent was Barcelona… well, the choice was easy.
In last night's Champions League quarterfinal first legs, Real Madrid had comfortably beaten Borussia Dortmund 3–0, placing one foot firmly in the semi-finals.
Ancelotti had given the entire Madrid squad the day off.
So Xabi Alonso, Sergio Ramos, and Nacho—Real Madrid's Castilla-born core—simply showed up at Camp Nou in person to watch Li Ang's game.
A journalist caught a shot of Li Ang embracing his old teammates outside the Chelsea team hotel before the match.
So, when the live broadcast panned to the VIP box before kickoff and showed the group of Madrid players seated together, Camp Nou erupted with deafening boos.
But the Madrid boys weren't fazed. They'd been here before. Some even smiled and nodded politely at the cameras.
When the two teams walked out with the officials and the broadcast cameras focused on Mourinho and Li Ang, the noise hit another level—ten times louder, a wall of hatred echoing through the stadium.
Neymar, still not even through his first full season at Barcelona, was stunned.
Aside from matches against Madrid, he'd never seen Barça fans this wild.
But for veterans like Messi, Iniesta, and Piqué, this was old news.
After all, on the opposing team was the one man who'd surpassed even Ronaldo as the most hated figure among Barça fans.
And worse—he was smiling at the cameras again…
Even the Barça players on the pitch wanted to boo him, that damn smirk was just too familiar.
Messi avoided Li Ang before the match.
During the pre-game handshake, when Li Ang winked at him, Messi didn't even crack a smile.
That actually caught Li Ang a bit off guard.
Looking at Messi—who had grown a beard a bit earlier than he remembered—Li Ang couldn't help but grumble in his mind.
"Weren't you just saying last night you'd treat me to barbecue? Now you're acting like we've never met? Come on, Leo!"
Seeing Messi's cold demeanor, Li Ang quickly wiped the grin off his face too. His expression grew sharp and serious.
Fans in the stadium and journalists along the sidelines all noticed the shift in mood.
Shutters clicked furiously.
Now this was what a proper showdown looked like—cold, focused, ready to explode.
If these two had come onto the pitch playing the "old friends reunion" act, the media waiting to pounce would've been seriously disappointed.
As kickoff approached, Camp Nou was cloaked in a heavy, electrified tension.
After the coin toss, both captains jogged back to their teams, rallying morale in the final seconds.
Commentators around the world had already finished announcing the starting lineups.
Mourinho didn't deviate from his tried-and-true strategy against Barcelona—his most effective weapon over the years: the 4-2-3-1.
Čech in goal.
Backline: Ashley Cole, Terry, David Luiz, and Azpilicueta.
Double pivot in midfield: Matić and Ramires.
Li Ang started as the central attacking midfielder, flanked by Hazard and De Bruyne.
Up top: Ibrahimović as the lone striker.
Barcelona, on the other hand, had made some visible changes.
First and foremost, starter Víctor Valdés was out injured from the last league match—done for the season.
Veteran Pinto had stepped in between the posts.
In defense: Jordi Alba, Mascherano, Piqué, and Dani Alves—no surprises.
Midfield? The iconic trio of Xavi, Iniesta, and Busquets.
But up front, there was a key adjustment: Messi, who had spent most of the season playing centrally, was back on the right wing.
Messi on the right, Neymar on the left, Alexis Sánchez up top.
This switch by Barcelona manager Gerardo Martino didn't go unnoticed.
Both Mourinho and Li Ang spotted it immediately.
Still, Mourinho wasn't planning to make any knee-jerk tactical changes just yet—not even in response to Messi's positional tweak.
A few moments later, the referee's whistle pierced the roar of the crowd.
Kickoff.
Mourinho stepped up to the sideline, eyes fixed, ready to dissect every shift on the pitch.
Li Ang, for the first time, was facing a team with Messi in it without being assigned to mark him one-on-one.
Back at Madrid, Mourinho had always asked him to sacrifice for the greater good—track Messi, lock him down, and let others handle the attacking duties.
But at Chelsea, they couldn't afford to lose their midfield engine.
Li Ang was needed in attack.
Sacrificing him to man-mark Messi would leave a massive creative void.
Now, Mourinho wanted to see whether the combo of Matić and Ramires could hold off Messi and Sánchez's dribble-heavy advances.
From the start, Chelsea did something uncharacteristic—they attacked first.
Li Ang directed traffic, and as usual, Chelsea looked to test Barça's defense through their most dangerous weapon: Eden Hazard.
Hazard's task tonight was daunting: face off against Dani Alves.
Still near the end of his prime, Alves was only a tad slower than Hazard—but far more experienced.
His offensive prowess was well-known, but his one-on-one defending? Still elite.
Unlike Marcelo, who often neglected his defensive duties, Alves was a balanced full-back.
And in these opening minutes, Hazard couldn't get past him—twice he tried, twice he failed.
Li Ang, noting Alves' sharp form, quickly switched it up.
He dropped deeper to collect the ball and launched a long diagonal to the right flank.
De Bruyne, ever the team player, took the ball and cleverly shielded it, helping Azpilicueta overlap and get in behind.
Chelsea delivered their first real cross of the game from that movement.
Li Ang was arriving at the edge of the Barça penalty area—but Ibrahimović had already shaken off Piqué and launched a powerful header.
Pinto, the aging backup keeper, held onto it cleanly.
Li Ang clapped for Azpilicueta's delivery and quickly dropped back to help defend.
But Barça's transition was blistering.
Pinto rolled the ball out to Alba.
Alba surged forward, linked with Iniesta—and in under two seconds, they were in Chelsea's half.
A flash of unease shot through Li Ang. He yelled for Ramires to retreat—fast.
Too late.
Iniesta delivered a piercing through ball that sliced open Chelsea's flank.
And on the far right—Messi.
"Messi's on the run! He's cutting in from the wing! Matić is trailing—he's too slow!"
Even the normally composed studio commentator He Wei raised his voice in alarm.
On-screen, Messi weaved through two defenders with quick, deadly cuts—accelerating into Chelsea's heart like a dagger.
Sánchez pulled wide left, dragging David Luiz with him.
Neymar cut across from the right, freezing Ashley Cole—who couldn't risk stepping in on Messi.
Terry stood alone, the last line.
And just as Messi reached the top of the D, he shifted his stance.
Left foot.
Curl.
Lethal.
Terry couldn't react in time. Čech's glove stretched—but the ball was already past him.
Top corner.
Boom.
Just six minutes in, Messi had scored with his very first solo run.
Like he'd done countless times before, from seemingly nothing, he picked up the ball, carried it, and buried it.
It was a superstar moment, a reminder of why he was who he was.
Camp Nou, packed with nearly 100,000 fans, erupted.
They cheered, they roared, they mocked.
And much of it was directed at Mourinho and Li Ang.
Li Ang scratched the back of his head, watching Messi race to the corner flag in celebration.
And finally, he muttered.
"Damn… Messi, you're really playing for keeps tonight, huh?"
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