Ambrosini, Borriello, and others charged into the penalty area, while Suker instead pulled back.
Receiving a pass from Pirlo, he shifted the ball sideways, and at the moment the defender stretched out his leg, he fired a low shot.
The ball slipped right through the legs of Bochum's center-back and flew toward the far post on the left side of the goal.
Clang! The ball struck the post and bounced into the net.
31st minute: Suker scores his second goal of the match.
One with a header!One with a precise low shot through traffic!
These two goals completely disrupted Bochum's defense, and even the AC Milan players were stunned.
Suker has this kind of presence in front of goal?
Simic looked at his shocked teammates and said slowly, "He's like this for the national team too. His exquisite finishing helped us beat Turkey!"
Kaladze turned his head, surprised. "He plays like this in the national team too?"
Simic nodded. "Last season, Andriy [Shevchenko] was the center-forward, and we all overlooked Suker's goal-scoring ability."
"In fact, he's already scored quite a few in both the Champions League and the league!"
Everyone thought for a moment—true, that did seem to be the case.
They had all been focused on Shevchenko, unintentionally ignoring Suker.
Suker may not have been the team's top scorer, but beyond just scoring, his responsibilities included passing, organizing, dribbling, and driving the attack forward.
Yet even with these tasks, he still racked up a solid number of goals.
What if the team's tactical resources were reoriented around Suker?
Pirlo murmured to himself, "Croatia's nuclear warhead... this guy wasn't kidding!"
Realizing what was happening, Pirlo clutched his chest.
"Damn it! I almost got fooled. I knew that sly grin of his meant something fishy!"
After scoring, Suker celebrated and ran back toward midfield.
Excitedly, he shouted, "Keep going! Keep going! I feel like I can get a hat-trick!"
Everyone rolled their eyes.
Well yeah, you've already got two and it's not even halftime.
Ancelotti's eyes were fixed on Suker.
"Interesting."
If Suker's performance wasn't a fluke, then Shevchenko's departure might not be such a crisis for Milan's front line after all.
With Suker stepping up and the main squad returning, even with a reduced fixture list, AC Milan's squad remained strong.
And Suker wasn't just a pure finisher—his contributions went well beyond scoring goals.
At that moment, Ancelotti felt like a lightbulb had gone off in his head.
A flood of tactical possibilities formed in his mind—he couldn't wait to test them out.
Halftime.
Ancelotti slapped the tactics board.
"In the second half, get the ball to Suker every time we go forward."
Everyone nodded.
Ancelotti turned to Suker. "I won't restrict you. If you want to shoot, shoot. If you want to drop deep, do it. If you want to organize the play, go for it! I just have one requirement—keep the attack flowing!"
Ancelotti's voice trembled slightly.
It was excitement!
This was the moment—light at the end of the tunnel!
Sure, losing Shevchenko had been a huge blow to Milan's attack.
But Suker's breakout might bring a whole new tactical dimension to the team.
He wanted to see more.
More tactical possibilities.
That's why he wouldn't limit Suker.
He needed Suker to show everything he could do—only then could Ancelotti determine his best role and long-term contribution.
But one thing was already certain:Suker would be the offensive core.
If Suker could maintain this level, Ancelotti would give him the status he deserved.
AC Milan would revolve around Suker.
The Suker Era would begin!
"Pass to me!"
On the pitch, Suker drifted to the wing.
Maldini quickly played a through ball down the line.
Suker received it and drove diagonally forward.
As he moved, he constantly scanned his teammates' positioning. Once in the half-space, he switched the play wide.
Brochi sprinted to receive the ball, pulling away the fullback covering Suker.
Suker called for the ball again.
Brochi returned it, and Suker used the outside of his foot to flick it forward.
The ball nutmegged the Bochum center-back, and Suker leaped over a sweeping tackle.
Suker had beaten the defender and glanced toward Borriello—this made another Bochum defender backpedal to cut off the passing lane.
But Suker seized the moment, burst forward, and broke free.
Milan's assistant coach grabbed his head in disbelief.
"He beat them again!"
Even as a Milan coach, seeing the Bochum defense repeatedly dismantled by Suker left him breathless.
Suker sprinted past the defender and, just outside the six-yard box, suddenly stopped.
The sudden stop caused the defender and goalkeeper to collide into each other, bodies flying everywhere.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Suker chipped the ball into the net with ease.
Hat-trick!
Three goals in one match.
"How do you stop that?"
The Bochum defender let out a soul-wrenching cry.
He had tried everything.
He gave it his all to stop Suker.
But he couldn't match the speed, or the explosiveness!
Get too close, and Suker would drop back.
Chase him deep, and you'd leave space behind.
Let him go, and he'd bring the whole team down on you.
And physically? He could hold his own too!
WHISTLE!
Just as Bochum's defense was being shredded beyond repair, AC Milan made a substitution.
Suker was taken off.
As he walked to the bench, Suker shouted, "I'm not done yet!"
"Enough already," Ancelotti chuckled, patting him on the head.
"Great performance."
Suker grinned. "So… maybe we should think about making me the main striker this season?"
Ancelotti just smiled and told him to rest.
Then he turned to his assistant coach.
"What did Real Betis say again?"
The assistant was momentarily confused, then replied, "They said they'd increase the offer by 3 million euros."
Ancelotti nodded.
The assistant frowned. "You're going to accept?"
Ancelotti turned slowly and said coldly: "Tell them—to hell with that. The deal's off!"
Suker's performance had given him the confidence to say that.
After Suker's departure, the match calmed down.
With his hat-trick already on the board—though it was just a friendly—Bochum had been mentally destroyed.
Their back line had been dismantled.
Even though Borriello and others hadn't played that well, they capitalized on Bochum's mistakes and managed to score more goals.
Final score: AC Milan 4–0 Bochum.
With this result, Milan wrapped up their tour in Germany and returned home to Milan.
Back at the training base, things got lively again.
Gattuso, leg bandaged, still tried to chase down Pirlo.
Kaká stirred the pot while holding his Bible.
Inzaghi, hobbling on crutches, was still chasing girls and booking hotel rooms.
And Maldini, like a worried father, fretted over everything.
Suker sat in the locker room, chin in hand.
"So… what exactly did Calciopoli change?"
These guys are still the same lovable idiots!
Suddenly, Kaká closed his Bible and turned to smile.
"You missed the first friendly match. A small local media outlet in Milan reported that you were acting like a diva and lacked professionalism."
Suker raised an eyebrow.
"There are media outlets that bored?"
Kaká laughed. "They do it for clicks. That's how small outlets survive."
"And then?"
Kaká smirked. "Then hundreds of Milan fans tracked down their office somehow and surrounded it. The police had to step in, and the outlet eventually issued a public apology."
"Oh, and by the way, there's now a fan group just for you!"
Suker was surprised. "A fan group just for me?"
Kaká nodded. "A group of young fans—they call themselves 'The Cello.'"
Suker looked uneasy. "Don't tell me it's because my left foot plays like a cello?"
"No, no!" Kaká could barely hold back his laughter. "They say both your feet can play the cello!"
Suker exploded. "These dumbass fans!"
Can't they come up with a normal fan group name? What the hell is that supposed to mean?
They just ripped off Davor Šuker's violin celebration!
Worst of all—these morons are my fans!