"You should really talk to Capello. I think that's the only way to solve this problem."
Inside Beckham's villa, Van Nistelrooy was earnestly trying to persuade his friend.
Recently, tensions between Beckham and Capello had escalated. Not only was Beckham completely benched, but Capello also barred him from training with the team.
Beckham had simply stopped going altogether.
Their relationship had completely broken down.
Van Nistelrooy had transferred to Real Madrid not just for the club's prestige but also to reunite with his old partner—Beckham.
Yes, he came to reconnect with his former golden teammate.
But just as he joined Madrid, internal conflicts erupted. Capello began purging veteran players and pushing for a youth movement.
Van Nistelrooy was caught off guard.
He hadn't even received a handful of passes from Beckham before the latter was frozen out.
He believed there was still a chance to salvage things—if only Beckham would swallow his pride and talk to Capello.
"If I were that kind of person, I wouldn't have left Manchester United," Beckham replied coldly.
Clearly, he was angry that his friend was asking him to bow his head to Capello.
"But we're about to face AC Milan. Without you, we don't have a proper midfield playmaker," Van Nistelrooy said bitterly. "We're going to lose!"
Despite what clueless journalists claimed, pushed by certain agendas to smear Milan, in the eyes of the clubs, AC Milan was still a powerhouse—still the Milan dynasty.
People thought that after Shevchenko left, Milan's attack would weaken.
But that wasn't the case. In fact, Milan welcomed someone even more terrifying—Suker!
Suker was more versatile than Shevchenko and offered far more tactical options and flexibility.
As a fellow striker, Van Nistelrooy knew just how dangerous Suker was.
Don't underestimate a simple drop pass—it could be a lethal weapon if executed well.
And Suker didn't just drop deep and pass—he could organize the attack from midfield too.
He played in a role between a number 9 and number 10—a "false nine."
In short: he could do everything.
Van Nistelrooy had confidence in himself, but not in the team as a whole.
Facing this version of AC Milan, Madrid would struggle on offense.
If the midfield couldn't move forward, what use was he?
Van Nistelrooy tried to reason, but Beckham had made up his mind.
"Unless he comes to me, nothing's going to change," Beckham said firmly.
Van Nistelrooy sighed.
He knew the situation was hopeless now.
They'd just have to face Milan head-on.
Hopefully, Guti could hold his own against the trio of Pirlo, Seedorf, and Kaká.
Meanwhile, in Milan, Suker received a call from Srna.
"Crush them! Crush Capello! Destroy him!" Srna shouted, seething with rage.
He was frustrated that Inter Milan didn't draw Real Madrid.
He had no outlet for his anger.
"You think Madrid is easy to beat?" Suker rolled his eyes.
Srna shot back, "Beckham probably won't play. They have Robinho, you have Kaká. Gattuso and Seedorf are better than Guti. What's to be afraid of?"
"And come on, are you worse than Van Nistelrooy at finishing? Back when we were at Dinamo Zagreb, we still managed to beat Manchester United!"
Suker replied, "Madrid isn't United. Besides, at that time, Van Nistelrooy and Cristiano Ronaldo had a falling out—that helped us win."
Indeed, after Van Nistelrooy's transfer, his conflict with Ronaldo came to light.
Many believed that when United lost to Dinamo Zagreb in that Champions League match, internal strife played a part.
Not quite a full-blown mutiny—Sir Alex Ferguson kept things under control—but there were definitely player conflicts.
And United were in a transitional phase at the time.
Van Nistelrooy was impatient—he couldn't wait for the young players to develop.
That's why Ferguson eventually let him go.
"Worry about yourselves! Valencia isn't easy either."
Srna: "We're confident."
Suker rolled his eyes again.
Valencia had only been knocked out by Chelsea after a fierce battle.
Any other team would've found them tough.
"Anyway, time to pack!" Suker ended the call.
Srna: "Good luck! Crush Capel—"
Suker hung up.
He had already packed his bags and brought them to the door.
Clearly, he had lied to Srna—he didn't want to keep chatting.
Before long, Kaká arrived to pick him up.
Suker tossed his gear into the trunk and took the passenger seat.
It was February 20th—they were heading to Madrid a day early for the Champions League tie.
After driving to the training base, all squad members listed for the trip had already arrived.
The reserves were on the training field, while the main squad was loading their gear onto the team bus.
"Don't forget anything! Take care of your own equipment. Ivan, you forgot your pants!" Ancelotti called out.
Part of this was to remind players; part of it was to help them relax.
This was the Champions League—one bad game could spell elimination.
With a two-legged knockout format, every match counted.
After everyone had loaded their gear, the bus departed, watched by envious substitutes who hadn't made the squad.
At the airport, Italian reporters were already waiting.
"What are your thoughts on facing Real Madrid?"
"Can you outperform Van Nistelrooy, who's top scorer in La Liga?"
"Suker, how many goals will you score in this game?"
One after another, the journalists pushed their mics forward, but the Milan players ignored them.
Especially Suker—his eyes were full of disdain.
These journalists asked the dumbest questions.
How many goals would he score? How could he possibly know that?
Besides, after all the slander they'd spread about Milan lately, why would he even talk to them?
No way he'd give them the satisfaction.
Suker walked straight past them without a word.
That evening, Apennine Evening News headline:
"Suker: Full of Confidence!"
Below the headline was a picture of Suker calmly walking into the airport.
Suker stared, wide-eyed. "I didn't say a word."
Kaká laughed. "Maybe they read your mind."
Suker shook his head. These guys were too much.
Still, it didn't matter. Ancelotti had been there—he knew Suker hadn't given an interview.
The day before the match, both sides stayed quiet.
Despite the flood of speculation and analysis in the media, not a single player spoke out.
That made the pre-match atmosphere all the more tense.
This was Suker's second time at the Bernabéu.
Last time, he had played there with Dinamo Zagreb and drawn with Madrid.
In two short years, he had gone from a rookie to a Champions League winner.
He might not have the glittering résumé of other elite players, but his performances spoke for themselves.
If AC Milan could go far this season, he was bound to get the recognition he deserved.
A back-to-back Champions League win would make him a serious contender for the Ballon d'Or and FIFA World Player of the Year.
Notably, last year he had already won the title of Croatian Footballer of the Year.
Not a major award, but still a sign of his rising status.
The next day, all eyes were on the Bernabéu.
At Spain's iconic stadium, the first leg of the UEFA Champions League Round of 16 was about to begin.
Real Madrid vs. AC Milan—two of the most successful clubs in European history.
Naturally, the match was drawing immense attention and generating tons of buzz.
Madrid fans, however, were nervous.
They didn't like Capello's tactical system.
And Suker's recent form? Scary.
If he got the ball inside the penalty area, it was immediate danger.
How to contain AC Milan? That was Capello's biggest question.