Starting With Real Madrid

"Report it."

Gao Shen walked back to the visiting team's coaching bench, took a water bottle from Carlo, shouted something to Lucas, and began gulping down water.

He wasn't on the pitch, but the intensity of the game was taking its toll. His throat was dry, his energy sapped.

This kind of game was pure torture.

Damn Mourinho.

Lucas, knowing exactly what Gao Shen wanted, immediately began reporting the player data he had been tracking—performance levels, physical conditions, and activity rates.

Gao Shen's eyes narrowed as he caught onto something.

Adriano was finished.

After the first 60 minutes, his output had dropped drastically. His running had decreased, and his overall activity on the pitch had plummeted. The Brazilian forward was no longer effective.

"I knew it. This guy can't still be that strong. How long has he been out of form now?" Gao Shen muttered.

But before he could sit back down, he saw movement from the Inter bench. Mourinho had stepped out, and standing beside him was Cruz, ready to substitute in.

"Damn it!" Gao Shen cursed aloud.

Sure enough, in the 66th minute, Mourinho made his first substitution, with Cruz replacing Adriano.

As Cruz stood by the sideline waiting to come on, Mourinho, already walking back to his bench, glanced at Gao Shen with a smirk. It was a look that said: Whatever you've seen, I've seen it too.

Gao Shen gritted his teeth, letting out a bitter smile. "Show off all you want, Mourinho. Let's see if you're still smiling at the end."

Mourinho was proving to be as difficult to deal with as ever.

"Should we make changes too?" Carlo asked, his tone cautious.

Gao Shen thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Not yet. It's not the right time."

He didn't believe Mourinho could hold out defensively for the entire 90 minutes.

With that thought in mind, Gao Shen moved back to the touchline and signaled to his players to push the pace.

If this was going to be a battle of endurance, they would press Inter until something gave.

Inter Milan wasn't an easy opponent, and Mourinho always emphasized physical fitness. Breaking their resistance would take a toll, but Napoli had no choice—they had to fight.

…

"Whatever the result tonight, this Napoli team is impressive," Boas remarked from the home team's coaching booth.

"It's their fitness," Mourinho said, his tone matter-of-fact.

Boas nodded in agreement.

Earlier in the season, the media had released running statistics for Serie A teams, and Napoli's numbers were staggering. Their overall running distances far exceeded their advantage in the standings.

Curiously, while players like Vidal and Hamsik stood out, Napoli's individuals didn't dominate the charts. It wasn't until the data was recalculated as average running distances per 90 minutes that the full picture became clear: Napoli topped almost every category.

The discrepancy was due to their heavy squad rotation. Players like Thiago Motta, Cavani, Biglia, and Rakitic had played extensively in the Champions League but fewer minutes in Serie A, which diluted their totals. Adjusted for playing time, however, Napoli dominated the league in fitness and work rate.

This reflected two key strengths of Gao Shen's team: physical conditioning and squad depth.

Their rotation system had ensured that every player on the roster, even the 16-year-old Verratti, had seen playing time. Though Verratti had only made two substitute appearances totaling around 50 minutes, he trained regularly with the first team and impressed in the reserves.

Gao Shen's rotation strategy was paying dividends, keeping his squad fresh across three competitions. Their fitness and rotation complemented each other perfectly.

In contrast, Inter Milan's reliance on a smaller core of players was a clear disadvantage. In a war of attrition, they simply couldn't compete with Napoli.

It was a carefully laid trap.

Still, Mourinho wasn't relying on endurance to win. His focus was on defending. That was an entirely different game.

As the match dragged on, both sides were showing signs of fatigue. The relentless pace Napoli had set was a monumental test for any team, but even their reserves of energy weren't infinite.

Mourinho refused to believe that Napoli's players were indomitable.

"You can bluff all you want, but the players on the pitch will break eventually," Mourinho muttered, grinding his teeth.

…

By the 70th minute, Napoli's relentless waves of attacks had slowed down.

It was clear to everyone that both teams were running on fumes.

Inter Milan, focused solely on defense, had less ground to cover than Napoli. Destroying was easier than creating, and their compact shape required less energy to maintain.

"It looks like this will end 0-0," one commentator remarked.

"That's a result both sides can live with. But for Napoli, it would be a frustrating outcome, they've dominated the game yet failed to break Inter Milan's defense."

"Mourinho's defensive organization is remarkable. Even under these circumstances, he's kept his team intact. It's a testament to his coaching skill."

"But what's surprising is that Gao Shen hasn't made a single substitution yet."

The camera panned to the sidelines, showing Mourinho standing just outside the home team's dugout. He was chewing gum, leaning casually against the post, but the tension in his eyes was unmistakable.

In contrast, Gao Shen was pacing by the touchline, visibly restless.

The match had entered its most precarious stage.

The clock approached 75 minutes, and Napoli had started to ease off slightly, their high press no longer as sharp.

"Giuseppe, they're pulling back a bit," Mourinho muttered to his assistant, Baresi.

"Yes, I noticed," Baresi replied. "They're probably running out of steam. It's been over 70 minutes of high-intensity football."

Mourinho thought for a moment, nodding. "Push our line forward a bit, but make sure the defense stays protected."

"Should we make a substitution?" Baresi asked.

Mourinho hesitated.

"Muntari's been ineffective today. Rakitic has completely shut him down."

Mourinho nodded, then shook his head. "But I can't move Maicon. He's being neutralized by Di María, but bringing on Córdoba would weaken that side even more."

Baresi waited for his boss to make a decision.

After a minute of silence, Mourinho's mind wandered back to something Gao Shen had said before:

"Jose, you're either extremely cautious or you go all in. And people like you usually end up losing big."

Gao Shen had said it with a grin during a casual card game at a UEFA-organized event. The memory stung.

Damn you, Gao Shen, Mourinho thought. You may have been right that night, but I'll show you now.

"Substitute Muntari. Bring on Balotelli," Mourinho ordered.

"You're sure?" Baresi asked.

"I'm sure. Let's see if he can deal with three strikers.

Near the 80th minute, Balotelli, wearing Inter's No. 45 jersey, stepped to the sideline, ready to come on.

Seeing this, Gao Shen smirked. "So, this is how he's going to gamble. Stack the attack. One striker isn't enough, so he'll add another. And if two aren't enough…"

After a moment's pause, Gao Shen's eyes narrowed.

"He's throwing everything at me. Fine, Mourinho. Let's fight!"

Turning to his bench, Gao Shen signaled decisively.

"Pastore, get ready. You're coming on for Thiago Motta. We're changing the formation!"