The topic of "Suker's Five Goals in Nine Minutes" became a global sensation.
Fans and football pundits alike were practically bowing in reverence.
Villarreal wasn't a particularly weak team, yet they were utterly dismantled by Suker.
Scoring five goals in nine minutes—anyone facing such efficiency would be mentally shattered.
It could be said that after Suker's hat-trick, Villarreal no longer wanted to continue the match.
They were completely overwhelmed!
As a result, the resistance for the next two goals was relatively minor, and Real Madrid also held back, avoiding further humiliation of Villarreal. This restraint, ironically, gave Suker even more fame.
A hat-trick in three minutes, five goals in nine minutes.
Suker had become the benchmark for strikers worldwide.
Moreover, in the first match of the second half of the season, Suker displayed such explosive form that upcoming opponents facing Real Madrid were trembling.
How to contain this monster had become the question of the century!
Coaches around the world were racking their brains but had no solutions.
The buzz continued to grow, the hype unrelenting.
At the same time, another piece of news exploded onto the scene.
The 2010 FIFA Annual Awards Ceremony would be held in Switzerland.
All nominated players would gather there, including stars like Suker, Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo, Xavi, Sneijder, Iniesta, Modrić, and Casillas.
Managers like Mourinho and Del Bosque, along with club representatives, would also attend.
After the match, Suker began preparing for the awards ceremony.
Unlike previous years, this edition of the FIFA Awards was exceptionally grand.
It was the first year the Ballon d'Or and FIFA World Player of the Year awards were merged.
FIFA's annual best player—the Ballon d'Or winner—would be announced on January 18th in Switzerland.
Previously, the Ballon d'Or and FIFA World Player were given to two different outstanding players.
But with the merger, there was no longer a "second-best" option, nor debates over which award held more prestige.
The unified award would crown the one and only best player of the year.
"Here's your suit."
Suker frowned at the outfit.
A flashy red suit with sequins—though the design and cut weren't outdated, it looked somewhat garish.
This was the attire prepared by his new endorsement brand.
But Suker had doubts about the designer's taste.
However, when he put on the full ensemble, it didn't seem as over-the-top.
The red-and-black combination—black trousers and shirt, no tie, paired with the red blazer—made for a striking yet not overly flamboyant look.
Suker nodded slightly. Not bad.
"Tomorrow, we'll take Chairman Pérez's private jet to Switzerland."
This time, Real Madrid wasn't just represented by Suker.
Casillas and Mourinho were also attending.
Casillas was nominated for the FIFPro World XI and Best Goalkeeper.
Mourinho was in the running for Best Manager.
As for Suker, he was up for multiple awards.
FIFPro World XI, Puskás Award (Best Goal), Most Influential Player, and the main event—FIFA Ballon d'Or.
Given the number of nominations, the designer had deliberately crafted this bold red suit for him.
The next day, Suker arrived at the training base with his luggage.
Mourinho and Casillas were already there. Soon, Florentino's car pulled up, and they headed to the airport.
Florentino was beaming the entire ride, his smile uncontainable.
Undoubtedly, Suker was the star of this year's FIFA Awards.
With his multiple nominations and global influence, he was destined to be the center of attention.
Add Mourinho and Casillas to the mix, and Real Madrid was poised to be the biggest winner.
Florentino showered Suker with attention, asking if he'd prepared an acceptance speech and what he planned to say.
The ceremony hadn't even started, yet Florentino was already acting as if Suker had won.
But Florentino wasn't one to make baseless assumptions. His attitude suggested he'd heard something—whether accurate or not, Suker's chances were high.
This eased Suker's mind a little.
Florentino's private jet wasn't large—private jets were compact yet luxurious compared to commercial planes.
This one seated 8-9 people, with lavish interiors and dedicated staff.
Suker glanced around. He'd flown on this jet multiple times now.
Most Real Madrid players would never get the chance in their lifetimes, but Suker practically had it on standby.
Unless Florentino was using it himself, Suker always traveled in style.
Still, he couldn't keep relying on others. With frequent trips for national team duties, club commitments, and events, having his own private jet might be more convenient.
Suker decided to look into it after the trip.
"Suker, come here."
Mourinho beckoned.
Suker walked over to find Mourinho hunched over a table, scribbling notes.
"For the Champions League Round of 16, we're facing Arsenal. They play a possession-based style like Barcelona, but it's completely different—Arsenal is faster, more physical, and presses aggressively. It's a hybrid of Premier League intensity and tiki-taka."
Even now, Mourinho was in work mode.
Suker admired that about him—the man was always analyzing tactics.
Perhaps that was the secret to his success.
"Against Arsenal, we need to focus on a few key points."
"First, like with Barça, we can't let their midfield distribute comfortably."
Suker nodded. "High pressing can handle that."
Mourinho agreed. "Second, the wingers need to track back more in defense. Fàbregas loves using the flanks for quick breaks. Srna and Marcelo are fast, but for insurance, you'll need to help defensively too."
In Mourinho's system, everyone had defensive duties—hence Benítez's infamous "reduce Eto'o's defensive workload" complaint.
"No problem." Suker nodded again.
Their fitness could handle the constant sprints.
Of course, Suker had never struggled with stamina—his endurance was freakish.
Kaká, while not on Suker's level, could manage it too.
Besides, when Mourinho gave an order, who could say no?
"Lastly, the most critical part—on the counter, Karim will act as the pivot. You need to read the play instantly and be the first to arrive at the attacking point."
Suker pondered.
That was trickier.
Not because he couldn't run, but anticipating counterattacks and being "the first to arrive" required split-second judgment.
Still, Suker believed he could do it.
Even if slightly late, his speed and explosiveness would get him there.
After the briefing, Mourinho suddenly asked, "Who do you think is Arsenal's biggest threat?"
Arsenal's most dangerous player?
Fàbregas, Nasri, Wilshere—all were threats in midfield.
Up front, Nasri and Arshavin packed a punch.
But the real danger was...
"Van Persie."
Suker said firmly.
Mourinho nodded. "My thoughts exactly."
"When I coached Chelsea, he wasn't a starter. Based on data and footage, I've analyzed his style." Mourinho tapped the table. "He loves volleys—and his finishing is lethal."
Van Persie's trademark was his volleys—no trapping, just first-time strikes.
He made difficult volleys look routine, leaving defenders who hesitated or were slow off the mark helpless.
"I'll assign a man-marker to him. With Kaká dropping deeper to cover midfield, the attacking burden will fall on you and Karim."
Mourinho looked at Suker.
He trusted Suker's attacking prowess. For all the talk about Van Persie, the real monster was on their side.
Suker's ability to dismantle defenses far surpassed Van Persie's.
"Understood."
Suker nodded. "I'll deliver."
Mourinho finally smiled.
The last league match had proven Suker's form was scorching.
If he maintained this level until February, avoiding injuries or slumps, Real Madrid could overcome Arsenal and advance in the Champions League.
At Chelsea, Mourinho had relied on defensive solidity and tactical fouls to neutralize Arsenal.
Back then, his midfield and attack weren't at Real Madrid's level.
Drogba was a powerhouse, but his game was built on physique and finishing—not Suker's all-around brilliance and dynamism.
Lampard provided goals from midfield but wasn't a playmaker who could orchestrate attacks.
Thus, Chelsea's chances were few and far between.
Their victories over Arsenal back then were largely due to defensive resilience.
But at Real Madrid, Mourinho could do so much more.
The plane landed in Zurich, Switzerland.
Under a barrage of cameras, Suker and the others boarded FIFA-arranged cars to their hotel.
A staff member briefed them on the schedule.
"Tomorrow at 10 AM, there's a press conference. Suker and Mr. Mourinho will attend. The awards ceremony starts at 6 PM."
Suker and Mourinho acknowledged.
At the hotel, each had their own room—no more sharing with Casillas.
As soon as Suker entered, there was a knock.
Knock! Knock!
Suker opened the door.
"I thought it might be you!"
Modrić walked in without ceremony, plopping onto the sofa and grabbing a piece of fruit.
Suker closed the door. "How'd you know I was here?"
Modrić shrugged, pointing outside.
"The fans were chanting your name. I'm not deaf."
When Suker arrived, fans and media worldwide had already started calling his name—prompting Modrić's deduction.
"I didn't think you'd come," Suker said.
Modrić: "Wishing I wouldn't win?"
Suker grinned.
Modrić was among the Ballon d'Or nominees but stood no real chance.
"I know," Modrić laughed. "I'm just here for fun."
"Fun? Here?" Suker raised an eyebrow.
Modrić: "Ronaldo invited me. Figured I'd see you too—it's been a while."
Suker nodded. "How's everything with you?"
"Not bad." Modrić munched on an apple. "Though not as good as you guys."
"Five goals in nine minutes? How'd you pull that off?"
Modrić shook his head in awe.
Even after all these years, Suker kept surpassing expectations.
Five goals in nine minutes—utterly unreal.
Finishing the apple, Modrić stood up.
"Done eating. Time to go."
"You came just for an apple?"
"And to see you."
Modrić waved and left.
Suker chuckled. "This guy's got too much free time."
Since they'd arrived in Zurich late, Suker took a quick shower and went to bed—tomorrow was all business.
The next morning, Suker woke early.
Zorancic had arranged a styling team.
Though Suker didn't wear makeup, a light touch-up was needed for the cameras.
After tidying his hair and donning a sharp suit, Suker took the elevator down.
Staff guided him to the press conference, where journalists greeted him with cheers and applause.
Suker smiled warmly.
"Happy to be back in Zurich. Last time was for the FIFA World Player award—hoping for another good result this time."
"I can't predict anything, but all the nominees are exceptional. Whoever wins, it'll be deserved."
Bullshit, Suker added mentally.
"For the second half of the season, club policy limits what I can share, but we're confident and in great form."
"Mr. Mourinho is an outstanding manager..."
On camera, Suker spoke eloquently, his words broadcast globally.
In Croatia, fans had tuned in early for the live coverage—all because of Suker.
After the presser, Florentino introduced Suker to UEFA and FIFA officials.
It was all diplomatic small talk—something Suker disliked but excelled at.
The conversations were pleasant, and by 4 PM, Suker returned to the hotel to change into his red suit for the ceremony.
Alone in the car, awaiting his turn, the door suddenly opened.
A floral fragrance wafted in.
A figure in a sleek white low-cut gown, hair elegantly pinned up, with striking red lips and a refined nose.
"Long time no see."
Anne Hathaway slid in beside Suker, smiling as she extended a hand.
Suker blinked, confused.
Anne continued, "These events call for a plus-one. Walking the red carpet alone is lonely, no? A companion enhances your image and marketability..."
She smiled. "I'd like to think I'm qualified to stand beside you."
Suker: "We... haven't met before, right?"
Anne nodded. "True, but I feel like I know you. Maybe because I'm a fan?"
Suker scratched his head, but Anne gently stopped him.
"Don't mess up your hair. Image matters—you want to show your best to the world, don't you? Mr. Ballon d'Or?"
She grinned.
Suker chuckled and shook his head.
"Alright, whatever's going on..." He offered his hand. "Madame, would you do me the honor?"
"The honor is mine."
Anne placed her hand in his.
Meanwhile, at the FIFA Awards venue in Zurich...
A long red carpet stretched from the entrance.
Cristiano Ronaldo, Messi, and others entered with their partners or wives, while organizers saved Suker's appearance for last—the grand finale.
"He's here! He's here!"
"Suker's arrived!"
Reporters shouted, though how they recognized Suker's car was a mystery.
Cameras were poised as the car pulled up, door aligning perfectly with the carpet.
When Suker stepped out, flashbulbs erupted like fireworks, lighting up the night.
Instead of walking off, he turned back, extending a hand toward the car.
A white-gloved arm emerged.
The crowd gasped.
Suker had brought a date?
Since Gisele Bündchen, Suker had been free of romantic rumors.
Who was the lucky woman?
As Anne Hathaway stepped out, gracefully linking arms with Suker, the crowd erupted.
The spotlight? Still on Suker.
Amid Ballon d'Or buzz, Anne's presence added another layer of glamour to the night.