Chapter Twenty-Two: The Blue Lion Legion

Everyone’s attention was focused on this moment.

Those familiar with Mo Mo knew well—this was his classic challenge, his time-honored call to battle. And Mo Mo, when he issued a challenge, almost never lost. So, facing Kahn now, could Mo Mo still claim victory?

Why bother thinking so much? Just watch and see!

The Lion King, Kahn, was moving at remarkable speed. To the naked eye, it was impossible to tell who would reach the ball first. Whether Mo Mo could score if he touched it first was one thing; but if Kahn touched it first, everything would be over.

“Mo Mo! Mo Mo’s making his move! He’s shooting!”

Mo Mo reached the ball first. He was just a second or two quicker than Kahn—just enough. Mo Mo swung his leg and struck the ball with force, the leather sphere visibly distorting for an instant before rocketing away.

But in that same instant, a pair of black gloves flashed before everyone’s eyes. The ball was seized, snatched powerfully into the grasp of the Lion King Kahn.

Mo Mo lay stretched out on the pitch, gazing up at the stern face of Kahn, his golden hair tousled and breath uneven. Yet Kahn had the ball, didn’t he?

With steady, decisive steps, Kahn strode past Mo Mo and sent the ball flying downfield with a powerful kick.

“Kahn! A spectacular save from Kahn. Rumor has it he’ll be nominated for Best Goalkeeper of 2002.”

This was Kahn’s last brilliant moment. In 2002, he would claim the final great prize of his career. The old guard was slowly fading, and a new generation of heroes was beginning to reveal their fangs.

Once Kahn sent the ball far out of bounds, the referee blew the final whistle.

Bundesliga, Round Four. Bayern Munich won 3-2.

After the match, the media buzzed with speculation, but Mo Mo himself kept a studied silence. There was nothing to discuss—he hadn’t won.

Nevertheless, compared to the lucky goals of Mo Mo’s earlier days, his technical skill had now drawn more and more eyes to him.

But all that was secondary. What really mattered was that Pacult, the head coach of 1860 Munich, had found the team’s path forward. The Blue Lions’ future lay in relentless attack. If they couldn’t defend well, then they would simply attack even better.

At the post-match press conference, Mo Mo did not attend, and Coach Pacult did not force him. Anyone could see that Mo Mo was thoroughly exhausted. Because of this, Mino even lost his temper with him.

Mo Mo, however, didn’t care. What was the big deal? It was just another post-match interview. But then Mino gave him a lecture about appearances and exposure.

And then, Mino suddenly said, “By the way, kid, let me introduce you to a big guy.”

Before Mo Mo could wonder who it was, a bold, unruly voice came through the phone, “I’m Zlatan (Ibrahimović). Who the hell are you?”

Before Mo Mo could respond, he heard Mino cursing out Zlatan on the other end (in that friendly way old friends do), and Zlatan seemed to enjoy it. What followed was Mo Mo’s firsthand experience of Zlatan’s arrogance—or perhaps his gift of gab.

“Hey, do you know why I chose Mino in the first place? I like his attitude.”

“I hear you’re only 170cm? Oh! You little guy, you’ll have to look up to Zlatan.”

“Do you know taekwondo? I’ve been learning it lately. It’s made me stronger. You should try it.”

Then, Zlatan’s next comment sent a chill down Mo Mo’s spine.

“I heard Mino’s best insults were taught by you? We’ll have to have a good talk about that sometime.”

Sweat beaded on Mo Mo’s forehead. Wait! I can explain! Mino, you fat bastard! How could you tell Zlatan about that?

Mino, of course, heard Zlatan’s words, and the two bantered back and forth. Mo Mo suddenly felt as though he’d lost something, but it didn’t matter. Mino then told Mo Mo how he and Zlatan had met.

When Zlatan transferred to Ajax, his agent at the time sold him out—the transfer fee was high, but his personal terms were the worst. When Zlatan found out, he fired the agent and was left to choose between Mino and another candidate. When Zlatan met Mino, Mino recited to him some “striker’s creed” that Mo Mo had once taught him, using it to berate Zlatan.

Zlatan was a character—he took it in stride and decided to turn over a new leaf (at the time, he’d spent all his money on a Ferrari and was crashing at teammates’ homes). Mino bought the Ferrari off him, since Zlatan had been so badly cheated.

This gesture earned Mino Zlatan’s loyalty—the trait that Mo Mo most admired: always putting players first and never harming their interests.

After that, everything fell into place. Mino, having some connections at Juventus, was reportedly planning to move Zlatan there next season, and even asked Mo Mo if he was interested in trying his luck in Serie A, where Mino had the deepest roots.

Mo Mo declined. He wasn’t reckless, and he didn’t want to be Zlatan’s teammate right now. Zlatan? Give me a break—a ball hog! If it were Klose, maybe Mo Mo would consider it; Klose was the epitome of teamwork. Or perhaps Rooney?

Leaving that aside, Mo Mo was intrigued by taekwondo. He thought he might give it a try. Right then, Li Qing called. It turned out Li Qing had practiced taekwondo! No wonder he could kick so high back when they played.

With that, Pacult began to rework 1860 Munich’s tactical plan.

Formation: 3-2-3-2

This is a variant of the 3-5-2, with five midfielders, including two defensive midfielders specializing in defense. In attack, three attacking midfielders support two strikers. When transitioning from attack to defense, the two wide midfielders and one striker drop back, shifting the formation into a 5-3-2 or 5-4-1.

Basic tactics:

Away or at home against strong teams, they’d play classic counter-attacking football—aggressively pressing in midfield and defense, then launching rapid counters after regaining possession. At home, against equal or weaker sides, the focus would shift to attack, with the three midfielders, including one of the defensive pair, pushing forward to join the strikers for multi-pronged attacks.

Player characteristics:

Among the three lines, the forward line was clearly the strongest—21-year-old Laut wearing No. 11, Marcus Schroth in No. 21, and Mo Mo in No. 28. “Goals depend on the forwards”—that would be the true portrait of 1860 Munich.

On the midfield line, No. 7 Costa from Brazil was balanced in attack and defense, and No. 20 Austrian international Wiesenberger was a specialist in wing attacks; he was also Shao Jiayi’s main competitor. In defense, No. 5 Votava, the central defender, was the core—aggressive yet steady.

Goalkeeper Simon Jentsch, No. 29, was tall and skilled at dealing with high balls and one-on-ones. Premier League side Arsenal had already inquired about him as a possible successor to the aging David Seaman.

The Blue Lions were ready to set out for battle. In the next match, at home, they would face Wolfsburg. At the top of the Bundesliga table, Bayern Munich, after winning the city derby, held first place. Their next opponent was sixteenth-placed Nuremberg.

Second place was Bochum with 10 points, set to face third-placed Rostock, who had 9 points.

1860 Munich, with 6 points, sat eighth. Above them, seventh-placed Dortmund (also with 6 points) would host Schalke 04.

It’s worth mentioning that Hannover 96, after losing 2-1 away to Hamburg in the first round, 3-1 at home to 1860 Munich in the second (Mo Mo missed out due to injury), 3-1 to Nuremberg in the third, and 3-1 at home to Cottbus in the fourth, had lost all four matches and had zero points.

This dismal performance was due to Freddy Bobic’s absence through injury; it was still unknown when he’d recover.

One wonders whether, at this very moment, they regretted letting Mo Mo transfer away. (I’m not picking on Hannover 96—this really was their record that season.)