The All-Around Center Forward

March 12 — a heavy, oppressive atmosphere hung over all of Italy.

With José Mourinho's Inter Milan being eliminated in the Champions League Round of 16, every Italian team had now exited the competition.

Over two legs, Inter failed to score even once.

At home, they barely scraped a draw. But at Old Trafford, they were relentlessly bombarded by Cristiano Ronaldo and Wayne Rooney.

From outside the box, Luka Modrić was also lurking menacingly, waiting to strike.

In the end, goals from Ronaldo and Vidic sealed Manchester United's spot in the Champions League quarterfinals.

And Mourinho's Inter were knocked out once again.

On the return bus ride, the entire Inter squad sat in deafening silence.

Up front, Mourinho stared straight ahead into the dark windshield, but the players could still feel the rage burning in his eyes.

The two goals conceded had sent him into a fury in the locker room.

As a coach who preaches defense above all, Mourinho simply couldn't accept conceding.To him, every goal allowed was a defensive failure.

He described the performance as:

"A bunch of turtles with shells stuck at midfield!"

For most of the match, Inter looked like they were sleepwalking—hovering indecisively in the middle third, not pushing forward nor tracking back properly.

Their reactions were a step too slow, and their state of mind seemed completely off.

But this was Manchester United at home—not a team you could be sloppy against.

Naturally, United seized their opportunities and punished them.

When the bus arrived at Inter's training ground, the players disembarked, expecting to finally go home.

But Mourinho wouldn't let them leave.

He pointed to the tactics room and barked, "Everyone in. Now!"

The players exchanged uneasy glances.

It was almost 11 PM.And he was calling for a team review meeting?

But Mourinho didn't care.

"Now! Immediately! Move!"

Inside the tactics room, the players sat quietly.

Mourinho paced among them, flipping through his notebook, and began coldly:

"Out of 90 minutes, you guys were asleep for 60.United played aggressively. So should you!That's the only way to beat a team like them."

"I know you're capable. You just didn't show it."

He then began calling them out, one by one.

"Maicon—your speed is your strength, but once you push up, you don't track back. Is your speed only useful on offense? Should I play you at winger instead?"

"Srna—I told you to be conservative, cover for others. That doesn't mean play track-and-field with Ronaldo!"

Srna raised his hand: "But I can keep up with him."

Mourinho glared: "Did you win a single clean tackle?"

Srna went silent.

"Cambiasso—your pass completion rate was abysmal.As our midfield general, if you fall apart, the whole team collapses.You're the brain of the team—not a reckless berserker."

Then he added, "And be honest—you know you're not fast."

"Stanković, Samuel, Zanetti…"

He went down the list, criticizing each one with specific data and details from his notebook.

Even if the players felt humiliated, they had no room to argue—he was right on every point.

They all sat there, heads bowed.

"Last—Zlatan and Balotelli."

Looking at Balotelli, whose wide, clueless cow-like eyes stared back blankly, Mourinho looked like he might collapse.

Balotelli was undeniably talented—but acted like a moron.

Aside from football, he couldn't do anything right.

That was Mourinho's honest assessment of him.

Luckily, for now, Balotelli was still somewhat obedient. As a newly promoted starter, even an idiot knew not to act up.

He did play seriously… most of the time.

But weird incidents still popped up:

Like trying a wild volley at an open goal—and sending it into the stands.

Or, randomly wiggling his butt at a teammate in the shower—nearly getting punched.

From day one with the senior squad, Balotelli had been a walking disaster.

If he weren't so naturally gifted, Mourinho would've kicked him out long ago.

"As a striker, your most important job is shooting," Mourinho said sternly.

Usually, players didn't talk back during these sessions.

But Balotelli wasn't most players.

"Exactly! I took 11 shots in total!" he said proudly.

Mourinho's tone turned icy:"Eight were off-target.Two were straight at the keeper.One was so soft it could barely roll in."

"You really think those were smart shot selections?"

Balotelli replied, "My gut told me to shoot."

"And?"

"I followed my gut! But the ball didn't go in. It lied to me!"

The room burst into stifled laughter.

Mourinho's face twitched in frustration.

If he could, he'd open up Balotelli's skull to see what the hell was inside.

"Shut up."

Balotelli instantly covered his mouth.He was a rookie—he wasn't dumb enough to challenge Mourinho.

Even Zlatan Ibrahimović was behaving himself.

"Our next match is the Milan Derby," Mourinho began again."They're a team you've already beaten this season. You must approach this as winners."

He was instilling his "wolf mentality" into the squad.

"You must win by any means necessary.If it means taking Suker out with a hard foul, do it—and keep fighting!"

"Remember—this is a derby. It's war. And you're soldiers.There's no middle ground."

"To lose to your city rivals is the most disgraceful thing for any player!"

Mourinho suddenly threw his notebook aside and roared:

"So go and crush AC Milan!Use your performance in the derby to redeem yourselves for that Champions League humiliation!"

The meeting lasted a full two hours.

By the time the Inter players got home, it was nearly 2 AM.

The next day, Srna called Suker.

"They want to take me out?" Suker asked, shocked.

Plenty of coaches discreetly suggest tactical fouls.But openly ordering a foul in the locker room—and naming names? That was next level.

Srna warned Suker to be careful.

Despite being on opposing teams, they were still Croatia national teammates.

Srna didn't want Suker getting hurt and potentially missing the 2010 World Cup qualifiers.

Suker appreciated the heads-up.

He understood why Mourinho would do such a thing.

After all, Mourinho's downfall at Real Madrid had a lot to do with his instigation of inter-club rivalries—especially against Barcelona.

Eventually, Casillas accused him of damaging the Spanish national team by creating rifts between Real Madrid and Barça players.

The conflict between the captain and the coach led to Mourinho losing the locker room—and ultimately his job.

That's when Mourinho's career began its gradual decline.

"Either way, be careful," Srna said again, then abruptly hung up—probably because someone was nearby.

Suker put away his phone, silently thankful.

Having that warning in advance meant he could mentally prepare for Inter's targeted aggression.

If they went all in on dirty fouls, Suker could easily get caught off guard.

The derby was still three days away, but fans on both sides were already getting hyped.

In the first half of the season, Inter had beaten AC Milan.

If they could win the return leg, they'd complete a league double over their rivals.

And doing it at San Siro, Milan's home ground, would be a glorious moment.

While Mourinho's overall achievements at Inter hadn't peaked yet, his league performance was solid—they were top of the table.

But right behind them, Juventus, AC Milan, and Fiorentina were all threatening their position.

Beating Milan at San Siro would go a long way toward killing Milan's title hopes early.