"After the last match, Inter Milan has become the laughingstock of all Italy. They couldn't even beat us under such circumstances—feels damn good!"
Gattuso lay on his hospital bed, shaking his head in satisfaction.
"If only I wasn't injured…"
Suker stared silently at him.
Gattuso sighed and looked up at the ceiling:
"Mancini's situation is really bad now. Inter fans are all calling for him to be sacked. When he first joined Inter, he was so full of ambition. But this game... the boss totally played him."
Suker kept staring.
Gattuso shook his head:
"The boss is really something. His tactical arrangements were top-class. This match proves it. Even with a half-crippled AC Milan, he managed to squeeze every last drop of strength out of us!"
Suker crossed his arms and started smacking his lips in boredom.
Silence.
Then suddenly—
"Get the hell outta here!" Gattuso exploded.
"I didn't even say anything," Suker blinked.
"Don't think I don't know what you're thinking. Forget it! I'm telling you right now: NO WAY!"
"You're backing out of a bet?"
"Damn right! I am! What're you gonna do about it?! Try me—I dare you!"
"So now you're being unreasonable and threatening violence?"
Gattuso took a deep breath and said seriously:
"Suker, you need to grow up. You can't stay this immature forever."
Suker:
"And you're the one saying that?"
"GET OUT! I don't wanna see your face! SCRAM!!——"
Gattuso looked like he was ready to bite someone.
Suker shrugged:
"I was gonna say... if you apologize, I might let it go."
"Sorry! My bad! So now get lost already!"
"Twenty Chinese meals!"
"Didn't we agree it was a hundred?! You're just taking advantage of me again!!"
"You're the one who made the bet. I didn't force you."
"What bet?! You got proof?"
Suker pulled out his phone and showed a video.
"See this?"
Gattuso froze. His face turned dark purple.
"Hand over that damn phone!"
"Hahahaha!!"
Suker burst out laughing as he ran to the hospital room's doorway, raising two fingers.
"Twenty meals! Byeee~!"
"SUKER!!!!!!!!!!——"Gattuso's roar shook the room.
At that moment, Kaká walked up with a fruit basket.
"Should I still go in?"
"Maybe try again tomorrow."
"Okay!"
The two left together.
As they exited the medical room, Kaká gave Suker a helpless look:
"You're always bullying Ivan like that."
"Bullying?" Suker shrugged."Didn't you see how happy he was?"
Kaká recalled Gattuso's murderous face.
"You call that happy?"
"Everyone has their own way of expressing joy. Trust me—Ivan was delighted."
Kaká shook his head in disbelief.
"How's your national team's game going?" Suker asked.
Kaká nodded:
"No surprises. We won and qualified for the Copa América."
"Congrats."
Kaká looked at Suker:
"You guys are prepping for your final match too, right?"
Suker nodded:
"After the last Champions League group match, I'll head back."
Croatia's coach Slaven Bilić had summoned the full national team lineup for their final Euro qualifiers.
Even though Croatia already secured first place in their group, it was clear what Bilić intended:
Eliminate England.
Suker's guess was right.
At that point, England only needed a draw to qualify. But Croatia had no interest in seeing them at the Euro finals.
Strong opponents?Better to knock them out early.
As for AC Milan, they had already secured top spot in their Champions League group.The outcome of the last match didn't matter.
Ancelotti's plan was to let the substitutes play and rest the main squad for the knockouts.
But Suker insisted on playing.
His reason?
Competing for the Champions League Golden Boot.
This season, his goal tally had taken a dip. He couldn't afford rest—he needed every match to sharpen his scoring.
Ancelotti eventually gave in—But only allowed him to play 45 minutes.
Whether he scored or not, he had to be subbed off at halftime.
Suker reluctantly agreed.
After all, Ancelotti had compromised. He couldn't push further.
But Lyon desperately needed a win to qualify.
And they were going all-out for it.
Even Suker's fellow Croatian teammate Vukojević called him and made a shameless request:
"Can't you just let us win? You're already through."
"Are you seriously asking me to throw the game? That's against everything football stands for!"
"Just don't play! You're already group winners. What's the point of targeting us?"
"But I'll miss a game, and I'm chasing the Golden Boot."
"...I'll buy you Chinese food."
"I'm sick of Chinese. If it's French cuisine, I might consider it."
"Fine! French it is!"
"Twenty meals."
"You're robbing me blind!"
"Thirty, then."
"Twenty! FINE! Just don't show up!"
"Deal. The boss wasn't planning on playing me anyway."
"Suker, you b—"Click.Suker hung up.
It was one thing if it came from a rival. But Vukojević was a national teammate.
And really—what difference does it make who qualifies?
Between Rangers and Lyon, Suker naturally leaned toward Lyon.
And it's not like he threw the game.He just... didn't play.
If Lyon couldn't beat a second-string Milan, then frankly, they didn't deserve to go through.
The next day, Suker told Ancelotti he wouldn't play.
Ancelotti was surprised, but quickly understood. And—secretly—was relieved.
So much so that he left Suker out of the matchday squad entirely.
Clearly, he wanted Suker to stay home and rest.
But Suker wasn't one to sit still.
If they wouldn't take him along—He'd just go himself.
In the final group match, Suker didn't play.
But he was all over the big screen.
Wearing an AC Milan jersey, Suker appeared in the south stand.
He even snatched the megaphone from Bob the capo and yelled to the fans:
"Next up! Repeat after me!"
Milan fans looked on, laughing at their own star player.
He couldn't stay calm on the pitch—And he was just as wild in the stands.
Suker took a deep breath and yelled:
"French food!"
Holding up two fingers:
"Twenty meals!"
He was shouting in Croatian.
But since Italian and Croatian sound somewhat similar, the crowd could mimic the chant even if they didn't understand it.
Soon, the entire south stand was chanting in unison:
"French food!"
"Twenty meals!"
"French food!"
"Twenty meals!"
The players on the pitch were baffled.
What kind of chant was that?Some new team motto?
But the Croatian players understood.
Simunic and Simic gave each other helpless glances.
And across the field—Vukojević was losing his mind.
He pointed furiously at the stands and cursed.
Then, the chant changed.
"Ognen! Dumbass!"
"Ognen! Dumbass!"
"Ognen! Dumbass!"
Suker led the crowd in gleeful mockery.
Usually, he was the one being booed by away fans.
But now?He was the one dishing it out—and loving it.
But it didn't last long.
Soon, security showed up.
Two San Siro staff members flanked him.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Suker pointed to himself:
"Don't you recognize me?"
The guards sighed:
"Of course we do. But the boss gave the order—you're out."
"Huh?!"
Suker turned to the Milan bench.
Ancelotti was standing there—not even watching the game.
Just glaring straight at Suker.
His eyes practically spitting fire.