Chapitre 382: Chapter 382: Great Revenge
When a team is replaced by a single player, it's no longer easy to change the flow of the game.
Napoli's ability to control the ball in the midfield and attacking third has grown even stronger, while Inter Milan has been locked into a defensive posture. Most of the action is taking place in Inter's half. Even when Inter occasionally launches a counterattack, it rarely poses a real threat.
In the stands, Inter Milan fans kept cheering for their team, urging them to fight back.
The score remained 0–2. At this point, Inter Milan needed to take more risks, attack aggressively, and fight for a goal.
But Mourinho's team was in a bind.
If they pressed higher up the pitch, Napoli might tear them apart with ease.
In this situation, could he really afford to push his team forward? Did he even dare?
"Giuseppe, were they like this last season?" Mourinho asked, his brows furrowed deeply.
He had watched several Napoli games and thought he had evaluated them objectively enough. But now, it was clear he had underestimated them.
Watching game footage simply wasn't enough. Video clips couldn't capture the full picture.
Only by experiencing the game firsthand, the atmosphere, the pressure, the shifts in offense and defense could you truly appreciate an opponent's strength.
This was why, even in an era of advanced technology, many coaches still chose to scout opponents in person.
And now Mourinho understood why. The real Napoli, in action, was far more formidable than the team he had seen in videos.
Their dominance was overwhelming, like a suffocating force.
On the surface, Napoli wasn't even aggressively pressing Inter's goalkeeper. They weren't truly hounding Cesar tonight.
But the overall pressure was far more oppressive than it seemed.
In the first half, Inter Milan had barely managed to hold on. But now, in the second half especially in the final stretch they were starting to crumble.
The physical toll was becoming unbearable.
"They've improved a lot since last season," Giuseppe Baresi admitted, clearly resigned.
Mourinho glanced at his assistant, shook his head, and sighed.
What a terrifying opponent.
He had to admit, he had underestimated Gao Shen.
Now he finally understood why clubs like Barcelona and Inter Milan were willing to go to such lengths to recruit him.
Before, he couldn't quite fathom the fuss. But now, he had to admit: Gao Shen was the real deal.
Just look at this Napoli side. To discover and integrate a center-back like Benatia into the squad? Incredible.
Of course, Mourinho wasn't going to openly admit any of this, at least not publicly. That wasn't his style.
"We need to focus on figuring out how to turn things around," said Boas, another assistant, from the bench.
Mourinho could only laugh bitterly.
Turn things around? How?
Who could he even bring on at this point?
It was almost comical. He had come into this match prepared to go toe-to-toe with Gao Shen, so he had loaded his bench with offensive players. Aside from the backup goalkeeper, he had Jimenez, Figo, Crespo, and Cruz ready to go.
Now, who could possibly make a difference?
Mourinho felt absurdly helpless, like he was at a bad blind date.
You see a photo of a tall, slim beauty, only to find out it's someone entirely different in person. But the reservations have been made, and you have no choice but to see it through.
That was Mourinho's mood now—helpless and frustrated.
Damn it.
Down 0–2.
The Portuguese tactician could only comfort himself with that grim thought.
...
In the pass-and-control system Napoli employed, Thiago Motta had become the linchpin in midfield.
His off-ball movement was clever and instinctive, constantly positioning himself where his teammates could easily pass to him.
This ability was ingrained in him during his years at Barcelona's youth academy, where movement, passing, and positional awareness were drilled into players from a young age.
Thanks to their dominance in possession, Napoli controlled the ball near Inter Milan's 30-yard line, continually probing and looking for opportunities to break through.
Inter Milan's defense was resolute, but as the game wore on, their physical stamina dwindled, and the mounting pressure began to take its toll.
Inter occasionally managed to launch some attacks, with Ibrahimovic retreating deeper to receive the ball and connect with the midfield. But the efforts rarely amounted to anything, and they couldn't relieve the relentless pressure Napoli was exerting.
By the 80th minute, the disparity became even more apparent.
Mourinho made another substitution, bringing Cruz on to replace Balotelli.
The young talent had struggled tonight, but it was hard to be too critical of a 17-year-old. Balotelli had already shown flashes of his immense potential.
After the change, Ibrahimovic began to drop even deeper to retrieve the ball, trying to bridge the gap between midfield and attack.
Napoli, however, remained unshaken.
In the 83rd minute, Sanchez and Vargas combined on the left flank but failed to create a meaningful chance.
Zanetti and Maicon worked together to snuff out the attack, eventually clearing the ball.
However, Napoli regained possession.
Cannavaro collected the ball and passed it left to Vargas. The Peruvian defender controlled it but couldn't find an immediate opening, so he sent it inside to Parejo.
The Spanish youngster surveyed the field before unleashing a cross-field pass to the right.
Valencia controlled the ball with his chest, pushing forward to the edge of the penalty area before being forced to pass sideways to Vidal.
The Chilean midfielder took one touch and looked to continue the attack, but Inter's Montari intervened to block the play.
Montari had been one of Inter's few bright spots, performing admirably in recent matches. Mourinho had even likened him to Essien, a high compliment.
The ball ricocheted awkwardly toward midfield, where Benatia won the aerial duel and headed it back to the right.
Lichtsteiner collected the ball, advanced, and sent a sharp diagonal pass into the box.
In the penalty area, Cavani had already anticipated the play.
Feigning a move to the right, he drew Burdisso and Cambiasso out of position before abruptly stopping and sprinting forward.
This sudden change caught Inter's defenders off-guard. Lichtsteiner's cross dropped perfectly into the space Cavani had created.
Without hesitation, Cavani leaped high and met the ball with a powerful header.
The ball arced beautifully toward the left corner of the net.
Cesar dove desperately but couldn't reach it.
"GOAL!!!"
"THREE-NIL!"
"My word, it's 3–0!"
"Cavani! Edinson Cavani!"
"He's just scored Napoli's third goal of the night!"
...
The moment Lichtsteiner delivered the cross, Gao Shen already sensed it might be a goal.
His entire body tensed with anticipation.
When Cavani's header hit the back of the net, Gao Shen erupted, unable to contain his joy.
He charged out of the technical area, running and shouting with pure exhilaration, his fists clenched tightly.
"Look at Gao Shen! He's more excited than his players!"
"Three to zero!"
"Napoli has avenged the humiliation of their 0–3 loss at the San Siro two years ago!"
"This match not only represents revenge but also demonstrates just how much Napoli has grown in these two years."
"If, two years ago, Napoli were helpless against Inter Milan, tonight the roles have been completely reversed!"
"Mourinho's team has been utterly stifled. They've barely managed to create a single meaningful attack!"
Gao Shen almost rushed into the Inter fans' section but was quickly restrained by a staff member.
He couldn't stop grinning.
Three to zero!
Unbelievable!
Two years ago, he had promised himself he would one day get revenge for that humiliating defeat. And now, he had delivered.
The Meazza Stadium erupted in boos, but to Gao Shen, the sound was sweeter than music.
He stood by the sidelines, arms spread wide, laughing uncontrollably.
His players charged over to celebrate, one after the other, embracing him with cheers and shouts.
This was more than just a win. This was vindication.
This was revenge.
...
After the celebrations subsided, the players returned to the field. Cavani, still grinning, glanced back at Gao Shen.
"Boss, stay strong!" he shouted teasingly.
The players burst into laughter.
"Get lost!" Gao Shen retorted with a grin, but his joy was unmistakable.
He turned to the referee, Sakani, who was approaching with a yellow card in hand.
"Take it easy," Sakani said with a resigned smile.
"Sorry, I got carried away!" Gao Shen replied, still beaming.
It was just a yellow card. He could live with that.
As he returned to the sidelines, he hugged each of his assistants.
Two years ago, they had stood together on this very field, powerless as Inter dismantled them.
But tonight, they had turned the tables. They had erased that shame.
The once-mighty Inter Milan had fallen.
This was their moment.
***
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone