"What's happening in the other match now?"

"It's ended 1:2?"

"Olympiacos has the same points as us?"

Schuster's face turned grim. If the match ended with the current score, Real Madrid would lose to Werder Bremen.

In the next match, Real Madrid would at least need to draw with Lazio to eliminate them. Meanwhile, if Olympiacos defeated Werder Bremen, Olympiacos would be first in the group, leaving Real Madrid with no chance for goal differential, only qualifying as the second in the group.

If Olympiacos drew or lost to Werder Bremen, Real Madrid would be first in the group, based on goal differential and head-to-head results.

"Are we really reduced to watching others' results now?" Schuster muttered under his breath, "What the heck is this!"

"Both this match and the next one are very important for us," Francisco said quietly. "If we can't win this match, there's a certain probability we'll be eliminated."

Francisco's words were rather polite.

If Real Madrid lost to Werder Bremen in this match and then lost at home to Lazio in the next match, both teams would have 8 points. Then, if Olympiacos won or drew with Werder Bremen, Lazio would snatch the qualification spot from Real Madrid due to head-to-head results.

If Olympiacos lost to Werder Bremen, then Werder Bremen would qualify, and the other three teams would compete for one qualification spot. This would require considering the round-robin results among the three teams. If the points are equal, it would come down to goal differential, and even if they qualify, it would only be as the second in the group.

Walking into the locker room, Schuster contained his emotions and created some noise to attract all the players' attention. He strode to the whiteboard, slapped it forcefully, and shouted, "Wake up, wake up, everyone wake up!"

"Are you guys not awake?"

"Do you know we are playing in the Champions League?"

"Do you think we're already guaranteed to qualify?"

"Do you want the suspense of the match to carry over to the next home game, leaving our fate in other people's hands?"

"Damn it, we are Real Madrid!"

Schuster's blonde hair fluttered, his expression and movements exuded power and madness. The players in the locker room sat upright, focusing their gaze on Schuster, as the "lion" was explaining the team's strategy for the second half on the whiteboard. After finishing the explanation, he roared again:

"They want to attack."

"Then let's attack with them!"

"Let's see whether we take them down first or they take us down."

At this point, Schuster walked up to Marcelo, patting his shoulder, "Don't worry about what's behind you, I want your breakthroughs, your crosses, your support in attack."

"And you, Metzelder."

"This is your familiar turf, show me your skills, prove to me that you are indeed needed in the team."

"Shut your mouth, listen to me!" Schuster glared at Metzelder, roaring, "Use your brain, move those darn legs, I don't care what you want to say, but my demand is, when Marcelo moves forward, fill in the damn gaps. I don't care how you do it."

"Create offsides, tactical fouls, or whatever else."

"Just don't let them easily take a shot, or easily cross."

Francisco made a gesture to remind Schuster that time was running out. Schuster straightened up, looked at the players, raised his arms and shouted, "Hala Madrid!"

The players enthusiastically responded, "Hala Madrid!"

...

The halftime show didn't attract much attention from the fans; they looked forward to the game resuming, after all, the pace of attack and defense in this match was intense. Both teams exchanged blows freely, which delighted the fans.

At the start of the second half, neither team made any substitutions or adjustments.

At the start of the match, Real Madrid launched a fierce attack. Ramos made a diagonal pass on the right, precisely finding Van Nistelrooy, who met the ball without stopping and volleyed at the goal.

"Bang!"

The ball slammed fiercely towards the goalkeeper, but was blocked by the goalkeeper's hands.

Not far away, Raul dived with a header, attempting a follow-up shot, but the ball grazed the crossbar and flew out.

Werder Bremen quickly responded 3 minutes later, they seized the gap behind Marcelo, made a trademark "German cross" from the right, Sanogo jumped high for a header, altering the trajectory of the ball with a touch.

Just when the Bremen fans were about to cheer, when Shaf couldn't hold back his celebration, when Schuster was ready to unleash his lion's roar.

Black hair, yellow skin, number 22, Chen Zhong!

As if he had foreseen it, he performed a back-header at the goal line and cleared the ball. Ramos quickly arrived at the ball's drop point and directly cleared the ball.

"Chen Zhong!"

"It's Chen Zhong again!"

"A goal-line clearance."

"His defensive awareness is really excellent."

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