Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

Three years after their last La Liga title, Real Madrid had finally reclaimed the crown—and the entire squad was brimming with uncontainable excitement.

For the veteran players—Ramos, Pepe, Casillas, Higuaín—the feeling was pure release.

They’d watched their greatest rivals stomp them into the ground for three straight seasons after their 2007–08 title.

Now, at last, the pent-up frustration had found its catharsis.

For players like Ronaldo, Di María, Kaká, and Benzema, it was a moment of personal achievement.

This was their first truly significant title at Madrid.

Their names weren’t on the last league-winning squad—they had carved out their own legacy now.

And the best part?

Everyone believed this wasn’t going to be their only trophy of the season.

The Bernabéu erupted into song—chants of Mourinho, Ronaldo, and every player’s name echoed from the stands.

Mourinho had promised to return Real Madrid to where they belonged when he first arrived.

Last year, he delivered the Copa del Rey after a dramatic extra-time win over Barça.

This year, they beat Barcelona again over two legs to win the Supercopa.

And now, they had reclaimed La Liga.

Sure, fans had criticized Mourinho’s tactics and squad selections during the season.

But, as the classic football saying goes:

”Fans are forgetful.”

Now?

Now, Mourinho was loved. Worshipped. Praised.

Yes, maybe in a few weeks, they’d complain again.

But tonight?

They were all 100% behind him.

With news of Madrid’s title win spreading across the world, the players—still glowing from their earlier celebration—were being ”arrested” by reporters one by one for post-match interviews.

Leon was hoping to celebrate a bit more with Mourinho and Karanka backstage, but he didn’t make it far before a familiar female reporter from Marca stopped him.

”First of all, congratulations! Leon, your team delivered a dominant season, and now you’ve taken the La Liga crown. Can you tell us how you’re feeling right now?”

Leon trusted her. She was one of the few who, if she wanted a soundbite, would ask directly—not try to trap him into something controversial.

”Of course I’m thrilled. Honestly, we thought we’d have to wait until Matchday 35 or 36 to seal the title.

So this was a wonderful surprise—and I think I can speak for everyone when I say: we love surprises like this.”

”About that shout we heard earlier—on Cristiano’s back—you were yelling something about the next opponent giving Real Madrid a guard of honor?”

”Huh? Did I say something like that?”

Both laughed, but Leon quickly followed up with a more measured reply.

”Alright, alright. It’s a great tradition, of course.

If our next opponent—Barça—chooses to give us a guard of honor, it would absolutely reflect their class and sportsmanship.

We’d be happy because we’d feel that respect was deserved.”

Diplomatic and well-handled.

They’d just won the league—Leon had no interest in sparking unnecessary media fires.

”Final question: the Champions League semifinals are coming. Do you feel confident about facing Bayern Munich?”

”Personally? Yes—I have confidence!

Look, we’ve come this far. If we didn’t have ambition or belief in winning it all now, it would be disrespectful to every team still in the competition.

So wait for our good news. Hala Madrid!”

With a clenched fist and a shout of determination, Leon handed back the mic and jogged off in search of Mourinho.

Ten minutes later, in response to the roaring crowd, the Madrid players—now all in ”Champions” T-shirts—returned to the pitch.

They clapped back at the fans’ applause before heading into the tunnel.

The joy, the noise—that was for the fans now.

For the players?

It was time to shift focus.

A new war was coming.

※※※

No hangovers. No laziness.

On the afternoon of April 15, Real Madrid’s full squad returned to Valdebebas for medical checks and light recovery training.

The euphoria of winning La Liga still lingered in the air.

If it were up to mood alone, they deserved a couple of days off.

But reality was unforgiving.

Only two and a half days separated them from their next battle—

The Champions League semifinal first leg against Bayern Munich.

So Mourinho only dared to grant half a day off for family time.

While the players briefly enjoyed their championship moment, the coaching staff worked around the clock.

The only silver lining?

Bayern Munich had also played on April 14—just the day before.

Heynckes had used a mixed lineup of starters and backups in hopes of keeping their title hopes alive.

But it didn’t work.

Bayern were held to a draw at home by Mainz.

They now trailed Dortmund by nine points with only three Bundesliga matches remaining.

Mathematically, it wasn’t over.

If Dortmund lost all three and Bayern won out, they could still steal the title on goal difference.

But come on—this wasn’t the 2022–23 Dortmund.

This year’s Yellow Wall was solid.

When news of Bayern’s draw broke, Dortmund fans began celebrating early.

Their vibes weren’t that different from Madridistas just a day before.

Bayern fans, licking their wounds, had only one place left to look for redemption:

The Champions League.

If they could take down Madrid, maybe—just maybe—they’d heal.

Both powerhouses were coming off exhausting league matches.

Neither had a rest advantage.

On that front at least, the playing field was even.

On April 16, after finishing a focused training session, Real Madrid’s first team boarded their flight to Germany.

The war was coming.

And against Bayern?

Leon knew one thing for sure:

You couldn’t turtle up.

Not against them.

Because no amount of turtling could save you.

The clash was imminent, and nearly every major sports media outlet in Europe had their eyes locked on Munich.

For football fans, this wasn’t just another Champions League tie—it was the kind of battle you cleared your schedule for.

After all, the other semifinal—Barcelona vs. Chelsea—lacked suspense.

Barça had steamrolled Benfica in the previous round, much like how Real Madrid had crushed Marseille and Bayern had brushed aside APOEL. It was domination without challenge.

Chelsea, meanwhile, had scraped through—barely holding on for a 1–1 draw after scoring first in the second leg.

They only advanced over AC Milan on away goals, with an aggregate score of 4–4.

If Chelsea had to fight tooth and nail just to eliminate a clearly declining Milan side, how could they possibly convince neutral fans they stood a chance against this version of Barça?

So for most fans and pundits, the real ”main course” was Real Madrid vs. Bayern Munich.

Whether Bayern advanced and clashed with Barcelona in a continental mega-duel, or Madrid advanced to face Barça in a Champions League version of El Clásico—it was win-win for the audience.

Even within Madrid’s camp, including Mourinho himself, most believed Barcelona’s progression was all but guaranteed.

Leon, as usual, was the exception.

He placed his bet on Chelsea.

His reasoning?

Torres had scored in the second leg against Milan—perhaps he was finding form again.

More importantly? He blindly trusted the aging beast, Didier Drogba.

”Torres will be Chelsea’s secret weapon,” Leon declared. ”And Drogba’s in great shape lately. Barça won’t be able to contain him. If Piqué makes even one mistake and Drogba gets the mismatch he needs, Chelsea will have their chance!”

His teammates were unconvinced but chose not to argue.

Leon was serious—and he didn’t say these things lightly.

On April 17, the Real Madrid squad completed their final training session at the facilities provided by 1860 Munich.

Meanwhile, media across Europe released their predicted lineups for the night’s big game.

Bayern?

No surprises—they were expected to stick to their tried-and-tested 4-2-3-1.

With Ribéry, Robben, Gómez, Müller or Kroos, and the reliable Schweinsteiger and Gustavo shielding the backline, Heynckes rarely tinkered with success.

Madrid, however, was a mystery.

Some outlets predicted a 4-4-2.

Others, a 4-3-3.

And all their guesses had merit—Madrid had played both systems effectively throughout the season.

If you looked at player fit, the 4-3-3 made more sense.

But Mourinho was notorious for smokescreens.

Who could say for sure that he wouldn’t pull a tactical twist at the last second?

And sure enough, that’s exactly what happened.

On the evening of the 17th, both squads entered the Allianz Arena for warmups.

Only then did journalists and broadcasters receive confirmation of the starting XIs.

Bayern? As expected.

4-2-3-1.

Kroos starting, Müller on the bench.

Madrid?

That’s where the twist came.

Mourinho had indeed sent out the players listed in the media preview…

But they weren’t lining up in a 4-3-3.

They were playing 4-2-3-1 too.

Leon and Essien weren’t covering the left and right flanks of midfield.

Instead, Leon and Alonso were the double pivot, and Essien was pushed forward as an attacking midfielder.

Ronaldo and Di María played slightly deeper, while Benzema spearheaded the attack.

The backline?

Coentrão, Ramos, Pepe, Arbeloa—a defensive wall.

This was Madrid’s most physically dominant, defensively sound, and counterattack-ready lineup on paper.

And the more fans and pundits compared the lineups, the more they noticed something strange…

Madrid and Bayern looked eerily similar.

Two defensive midfielders—one a destroyer, one a conductor.

Rock-solid backlines—equally adept in the air and on the ground.

Pacey, explosive wingers on both sides.

Forwards who could hold up play and distribute as well as they could score.

The resemblance was uncanny.

Of course, there were stylistic differences.

Mourinho’s Madrid emphasized compactness and counterattacks—coiled like a fist before delivering the blow.

Heynckes’ Bayern preferred to press, dominate possession, and proactively apply pressure.

But overall, these were two teams built with remarkable symmetry.

In recent Champions League history, there hadn’t been another semifinal matchup where the two sides were so fundamentally alike in structure and strength.

That is—until the whistle blew.

From the opening second, all preconceptions shattered.

Madrid weren’t playing cautiously.

They weren’t sitting back.

They attacked.

From the first whistle, both sides committed wave after wave of players to the midfield battle.

And as fans across the world watched, their excitement surged.

Mourinho had gone aggressive.

He had come to fight fire with fire.

Newly shaven and brimming with focus, he paced the touchline with sharp, calculating eyes.

This—this was the tactical surprise he’d prepared for Heynckes and Bayern.

He wasn’t going to turtle up.

He knew turtling wouldn’t save him against this Bayern.

You couldn’t bunker against them.

They would strangle you, eventually.

The only path was forward.

Attack.

Even if Madrid lost tonight, as long as they scored away goals, they’d have at least a 60% chance of advancing.

That was Mourinho’s true goal.

And so began one of the fiercest battles the Champions League had seen in years.

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