In the pristine white changing room, the players looked up at Schuster.
Schuster, like a lion surveying his territory, felt the gaze of the players upon him and roared, "Do you think you played well?"
"I'm telling you, it was terrible, absolutely terrible."
"I almost thought we were facing a top-tier team."
"But in reality, it's just a newly promoted team!"
"My God!" Schuster raised both hands, looked at the players below, and roared, "The time it's been established isn't even as long as most of your ages."
"What are we?"
"We are Real Madrid."
"Do you know what we need to do when facing a team like this?"
"We need to completely control the match, score goal after goal, and drive the fans into a frenzy, crushing the opposition."
Schuster's words were like a whip, mercilessly lashing at the players. His golden hair fluttered with his movements, and his gaze was sharp and authoritative.
"Robinho!"
