WebNovels

Chapter 824 - Chapter 824: 400 Career Goals

"Let's just ask and find out!"

Suker and Kaká walked over to inquire.

Benzema explained his idea.

Essentially, he had come to realize that his recent goals weren't just coincidences but were based on his positioning.

The key was how to make this passive positioning proactive, train it deliberately, and utilize it effectively.

Hence, he had devised this training method.

In simple terms, the uneven bounce boards simulated unpredictable ball movements in matches, helping him sharpen his positional awareness.

"Can you really train like this?" Kaká was surprised.

He didn't possess that sharp instinct for positioning, so he didn't quite understand.

So, he turned to Suker.

This guy was almost like Inzaghi, with his uncanny ability to find space and ghost into scoring positions.

Suker pondered for a moment.

Truthfully, he wasn't sure if this training would yield results.

"Let me give it a try!"

Suker decided to test it out first.

He swapped [Kaká's Awareness] for [Inzaghi's Awareness] and quickly joined the drill.

Benzema stood a short distance away and called out, "I'm going to pass now!"

Suker nodded, his eyes locked onto the bounce boards.

Thud!

The ball struck the boards, and Suker immediately sprinted forward.

As the ball rebounded, Suker sharply cut to the right.

But the ball sailed cleanly over the boards without any deflection.

Suker slowed to a stop and turned back. "Again!"

Benzema sent another pass.

Suker continued chasing and judging the ball's trajectory.

After ten attempts, it became clear—this method was utterly useless!

Suker only "predicted" the ball's movement correctly twice, and even those were pure guesses.

"It's pointless! Completely pointless!"

Suker was frustrated. Anyone would feel annoyed after being toyed with like this.

It was a miracle Benzema had the patience for such a nonsensical training routine—his emotional stability was impressive!

"This kind of awareness is about making split-second judgments based on the body language of opponents or teammates, anticipating where the ball will land, or timing your run to stay onside while getting a head start."

"This training doesn't help at all. You need real-game scenarios, or at least a proper scrimmage."

Benzema looked troubled.

He didn't have the influence to gather teammates just for his personal training.

So, he turned hopeful eyes toward Suker.

He might not have that pull, but Suker certainly did.

Suker met Benzema's gaze and smiled. "Don't worry, I'll help."

As one of his key "supporting actors," Suker couldn't just keep reaping benefits without giving something back.

Otherwise, no one would willingly play second fiddle forever, and tensions would inevitably rise.

Suker had learned a thing or two from Mourinho.

The carrot-and-stick approach—rewarding loyalty while maintaining authority.

To keep teammates dependent on him, he had to offer them something in return. Otherwise, how could he lead?

Suker even approached Mourinho to get approval for Benzema's special training.

"Individual training?"

Mourinho was surprised.

Suker nodded and explained the situation.

Hearing this, Mourinho's eyes lit up.

He had been wondering how to enhance Benzema's unique traits, and here Benzema was, already taking initiative and seeking help from Suker.

"Skip the team training this afternoon." Mourinho readily agreed, pointing to a nearby pitch. "You can use Field Two."

Suker nodded, then grinned. "I also need to borrow a few more players."

In the end, Suker gathered 16 players—starters and substitutes—for an 8v8 mini-scrimmage.

Most were midfielders and forwards, as the defenders had defensive drills with Mourinho.

Suker's group included himself, Kaká, Benzema, Di María, and Adebayor.

Casillas, Diarra, Khedira, Alonso, Carvajal, Granero, and Callejón made up the rest.

This wasn't just Suker's doing—Casillas had played a big part too.

Suker couldn't easily rally the Spanish contingent alone. It wasn't about disrespect, but Casillas' involvement smoothed things over.

Casillas had agreed without hesitation.

He was always eager to boost the team's competitiveness.

Plus, from afar, he had noticed Benzema scoring some inexplicable goals and wanted to develop that weapon further.

"Here's how the drill works: We're in blue vests, you're in red, and Benzema wears green. He's neutral—whichever team attacks, he joins them."

Suker explained clearly.

The others listened attentively.

Benzema looked at Suker gratefully.

Getting most of Real Madrid's squad to be his training partners was unimaginable—something he could never have arranged alone.

Thanks to Suker and Casillas, even the reluctant players had no choice but to comply.

Unless they wanted to be ostracized in the locker room!

With that, the scrimmage began.

Benzema threw himself into the training with enthusiasm, even asking Suker for corrections.

Suker did his best, but his "coaching" style was... unique.

"Why run right? Go left—the ball's going left!"

"Too slow! You should've started moving when Kaká lifted his foot!"

"That was an obvious feint, and you ran straight into an offside position!"

"Blind spots! Do you know what blind spots are?"

"Don't just charge into the box. There's no chance there. Why always push so far forward?"

Suker's constant critiques and reminders quickly overwhelmed Benzema.

"Time out!"

Casillas grabbed the ball and called for a break.

"Ten-minute rest!"

Casillas shook his head.

Continuing like this was counterproductive—Benzema was mentally fried.

After stepping off, Suker rubbed his throat, parched from all the shouting.

"You broke him," Kaká said, sighing.

Suker exhaled. "I've realized this can't be taught. It has to be felt."

Positioning and instinct weren't something you could formulaize.

It was all about split-second observations and sharp intuition—in other words, pure talent.

Inzaghi had once said it was innate—you either had it or you didn't.

With that foundation, matches and real-game experience could refine it.

But teaching or learning it? Impossible.

"So... do we keep training?" Benzema asked.

Suker: "Of course! Why not? With so many teammates helping, if you don't improve, you're treating everyone to French cuisine—three full meals!"

The group erupted in cheers.

Benzema breathed a sigh of relief.

"If I don't improve, I'll treat the whole team to three feasts!"

The cheers grew louder.

Casillas glanced at Suker, quietly impressed.

Suker always knew how to shift the mood.

What could have been a thankless task had, through Suker's framing, not only motivated the team but also eased Benzema's pressure.

After all, gathering so many teammates for personal training was a huge ask.

Now, if it didn't work out? Just three fancy dinners—Benzema could afford that without blinking.

Improvement would be great.

If not, no harm done.

"Back to training."

Suker pointed at Benzema and grinned. "Today's goal: Run this guy into the ground!"

Laughter erupted as the team returned to the scrimmage with renewed energy.

By the end of the afternoon session, there had been some progress—but it was slow.

Suker felt this was about unlocking a new way of thinking, a different perception of the game.

But how to articulate that? He couldn't.

It was all about feel, an almost subconscious intuition.

How to sharpen that intuition was up to Benzema.

With Suker and Casillas leading the way, these specialized sessions could continue.

Of course, they couldn't overdo it—twice a week was enough.

But Benzema could also practice in actual matches when the team was comfortably ahead.

February 20th, Santiago Bernabéu Stadium.

Real Madrid hosted Levante.

Levante, hovering just above the relegation zone, adopted a ultra-defensive approach.

They had no choice.

Playing attractive football was ideal, but survival was paramount.

So they parked the bus, hoping to scrape a draw at the Bernabéu.

"Levante has shown tremendous defensive resilience, handling Real Madrid's attacks with discipline."

"But they're flirting with danger!"

65 minutes in, the score remained 0-0.

Despite their firepower, Real Madrid struggled to break down Levante's compact, deep-lying defense.

Set pieces seemed their only hope.

Then, Kaká earned a free-kick just outside the box—prime territory for Suker.

Naturally, Suker took over from Alonso as the designated taker.

Currently, Suker and Alonso shared free-kick duties, but Suker's precision was gradually earning him the primary role.

By next season, he'd likely be the undisputed first-choice.

"Suker steps up—can Real Madrid finally breach Levante's fortress?"

Suker's gaze locked onto the goal, his expression sharpening.

Lately, he had grown complacent.

Ronaldo and Messi were closing in, and other challengers lurked.

Though Suker had maintained strong form, his rivals were improving too.

Their equal Champions League tallies were proof.

Even as Suker pushed forward, these two kept pace.

Relentless bastards!

No matter how hard he sprinted, he couldn't shake them.

Suker took a deep breath, steadying himself.

The Bernabéu fell silent, fans holding their breath.

Then—Suker began his run-up.

"Suker approaches!"

Planting his right foot, Suker swung his left in a smooth arc.

At contact, he leaned forward slightly, curling his toes.

A textbook bending shot.

The ball arced beautifully toward the far corner.

Levante's keeper flung himself desperately, fingertips straining—but the shot nestled perfectly into the top corner.

Swish!

Net bulging, Suker tore toward the corner flag, leaping with a fierce fist pump.

Come at me, all of you!

I'll knock every last one of you down!

"Gooooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!!!!"

"31 goals in 24 league games—Suker has surpassed 30 goals for the second straight season!"

"With 14 matches remaining, at this rate, barring injury, Suker is charging toward *40* goals!"

"This is insanity!"

"But this is Suker—perhaps the most terrifying striker in La Liga history. Even more staggering? At just 24, he's reached 400 career goals!" 

"Ronaldo Nazário, the original 'Fenômeno,' scored 411 in his entire career. Suker has matched that before his prime."

"The Croatian marksman has shattered defenses with ruthless efficiency."

"Let's applaud Suker—congratulations on your 400th goal!"

The stadium erupted.

The giant screen flashed "400 GOALS," commemorating the milestone.

Even the fans were stunned.

Unless they were die-hard Suker supporters, most hadn't tracked his exact tally.

But seeing "400" in bold was staggering.

Four hundred goals.

Many stars never reach 100 in their entire careers. Suker had 400 at *24*.

They knew he was great—but this great?

The numbers laid it bare.

Mourinho watched the screen, momentarily dazed.

It felt surreal—until he remembered this was Suker.

Of course it made sense.

Exhaling slowly, Mourinho clenched his fist.

"This season, we will achieve greatness—perhaps even replicate my Inter Milan treble."

His eyes burned with determination.

Winning the treble with Inter had cemented his legacy.

Doing it with Real Madrid—in his first season—would elevate him further.

And it wasn't impossible.

In La Liga, they were unbeaten. Though Barça chased, the gap was five points.

Barça: 22 wins, 1 draw, 1 loss—67 points.

Real Madrid: 24 wins, 0 draws, 0 losses—72 points.

For Barça, their only chance to overtake Real Madrid was the upcoming Clásico at the Bernabéu.

A must-win.

But Real Madrid wouldn't roll over. Mourinho had his own plans—bigger plans.

All contingent on results.

Success would give him leverage in negotiations—more control over transfers, more authority in the locker room.

But first, he needed trophies.

A back-to-back treble with different clubs? Even Florentino Pérez would have to concede.

As for the locker room, Mourinho had carefully balanced the Spanish contingent and Suker's group.

Some cracks, once formed, couldn't be mended.

That was precisely what Mourinho wanted.

As long as Suker and Casillas weren't inseparable, Phase One was complete.

Phase Two required silverware.

But Mourinho believed that day was coming.

He would emulate Ferguson and Wenger—shaping a superclub in his image.

That was his ambition.

Final score: 1-0 to Real Madrid.

But the result was overshadowed by Suker's milestone.

Headlines blared:

"Croatian Superstar Hits 400 Career Goals!"

"Suker's Insane Numbers Continue!"

Marca dedicated a full spread:

*"What does 400 goals mean? Since debuting in Bosnia's league in 2002/03, Suker has averaged *40+ goals per season* over nine years."*

"Even more absurd? Last season, he scored *78* across all competitions. Now, he's on pace to surpass that."

"We are witnessing the rise of history's most lethal striker."

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