All the Galatasaray players, after seeing José's move, felt a burning pain on their faces.
When the angry jeers from the stands surged like a tidal wave toward the away team's bench, all the Galatasaray players simultaneously felt a surge of intense anger!
This also made Terim, who had originally planned to wait and assess the opponent's weaknesses before making a move, abandon his initial idea—he knew his players well. If he told them to slow down now, it would only diminish the anger that had been ignited inside them and further affect their performance!
Although Terim had a good grip on Galatasaray, he knew that he couldn't force this wild stallion to be tamed. Instead, he had to use its momentum, trying to direct it in the way he wanted.
So, after the game restarted, Galatasaray launched an even fiercer attack, pressing Mallorca tightly into their half once more.
Mallorca, on the other hand, resumed their tight defense.
Everything seemed like a repeat of the first twenty minutes of the match, except now, with an away goal in hand, Mallorca's defense was even more resolute and thorough!
Previously, Mallorca's two forwards and Ibagasa had been positioned higher up the field, but now, Ibagasa had started to drop back into defense, and even Eto'o was helping with defensive duties on the left wing. Only Tristan remained up front as a lone target!
Against Galatasaray's furious attack, Mallorca's defense held strong, forcing the opponent's offense to crash against their defenses in frustration!
Even though Galatasaray's offensive pressure was relentless and the Turkish fans' roars were deafening, Mallorca's defense stood firm like rocks along the coastline—sometimes overwhelmed by the waves, but standing tall when the water receded.
Terim's brow furrowed deeper as he watched Mallorca's defense. The strength and tenacity of their defense was beyond his expectations. What surprised him most was the determination of Mallorca to defend at all costs, a mindset rare among La Liga teams—this was the great legacy Cooper had left behind for Mallorca.
No strategy could beat a turtle that kept its head tucked in. For a team resolute in counterattacking, once they set up their defense, it was incredibly difficult to break through, no matter how elite the opposition.
When the referee blew the whistle to end the first half, the Galatasaray fans were stunned into silence. It wasn't until they looked at the scoreboard that they realized despite dominating the first half, their team was losing 1-0.
The stats were staggering: Galatasaray had only two shots to Mallorca's seventeen, 17% possession to 83%, 16 fouls to 7, no corners to six, and one free-kick in the attacking third to seven for Mallorca. Statistically, Mallorca had played horribly in the first half, yet the scoreline showed them leading 1-0.
As the players headed into the locker room, the fans in the stands let out a chorus of boos toward Mallorca's players, but Mallorca's team was used to it. They calmly walked into the tunnel—because they were the victors.
The Galatasaray players, on the other hand, showed no joy as they walked down the tunnel.
"I have to say, our performance in the first half was great," José said, smiling as he addressed his players in the locker room. "Although we only have a one-goal lead, the initiative in the game is completely in our hands. In the second half, Galatasaray will come out even more aggressively to restore their dignity, but what they don't realize is that the first half has already drained much of their energy. How are your legs?"
"We're good, boss!" the players responded in unison.
For Mallorca's attacking players, the first half had not drained much of their energy.
Despite facing relentless attacks, Mallorca's defenders were used to this kind of pressure. In this familiar situation, they relied more on their experience than on physical stamina. Without wasting energy on unnecessary sprints, they didn't actually tire out too much.
As for Galatasaray? Before Mallorca's goal, their attackers would simply wait up front after their failed attacks. However, after conceding, they started to be more cautious of Mallorca's counterattacks. Every time Mallorca launched a long pass, most Galatasaray players would fall back to defend, and their unnecessary energy expenditure increased.
Even though the Turkish league's schedule was not as tight as La Liga's, Galatasaray was still juggling three competitions. They were in contention for both the league and cup titles, so their physical condition was not exactly an advantage.
"Good, we'll go for the counterattack in the second half," José said. He turned to the tactical board. "In the second half, we'll focus on the wings... Their three center-backs are strong in aerial duels and direct confrontations, so Diego, I need you to pull their defensive attention to create opportunities for the others. Samuel, you'll be our key player in attack. Take the ball from the flanks, look to cut inside whenever possible. Their defensive strength on the wings is weak—that's where we can exploit them."
Seeing the players nod, José smiled. "I think by now, you've all gotten used to the atmosphere of the stadium, right? There's one thing they didn't expect…"
On the stands of Ali Sami Yen Stadium.
"Damn, how did we run out of fireworks? They usually last until the end of the game!" a Galatasaray fan leader yelled angrily.
"Boss, don't you remember? We started using fireworks during warm-ups. Add that to the first half, and we've burned through more than an hour's worth. It's not that surprising," another fan laughed awkwardly.
"Is that so? Damn, then go buy more! We need to scare those damn Spaniards!" the fan leader barked, noticing the frustrated look on the others' faces. Then it hit him—the stadium was right there! Though the security at Ali Sami Yen Stadium was lax, and fans could sneak in anything from fireworks to knives, the stadium didn't sell contraband. Even if they went outside to buy more, it would take time, and there was no way to re-enter without a new ticket…
"Damn it, how can we create an atmosphere without fireworks…"
Amid the fans' lamentations, the second half began.
The weather in Istanbul was perfect, with a strong breeze. Without the smoke from fireworks, the haze quickly cleared, and the stands became visible to the Mallorca players…
The blood-red banners, snarling fans, deafening insults, and overwhelming home atmosphere... But as the veil of mystery lifted, the Mallorca players saw an ordinary stadium. The blood-red banners, while impactful, were just regular banners with ordinary slogans—"Welcome to Hell," "This is your burial place," "Beg for mercy, bastards!" and so on—nothing truly terrifying. The skulls and knives painted in red were poorly done, almost adding a comical effect…
As for the intimidating fans, they weren't all huge, muscular, and menacing. There were plenty of young kids, scrawny teenagers, middle-aged people in their 40s or 50s, and even women... Not much different from the fanbase Mallorca was used to.
The venomous insults they shouted? How much damage could they really do?
The shock they had caused earlier was simply because of the smoke, making everything seem more mysterious and violent. Now that the smoke cleared, there was nothing more to fear.
"Look, this is damn hell!"
Before going on the field, Tristan shrugged and laughed loudly.
His laughter was heard by several Galatasaray players, who shot him angry glares. But Tristan didn't care and walked confidently onto the field.
"Let's show them, boys, that without the mystery and theatrics, their so-called hell is just a joke!"
José sneered coldly. This was all part of his plan. He had predicted that with the warm-up starting early, Galatasaray's fans would try to create a terrifying atmosphere to rattle Mallorca's players. This was not the first time they'd used fireworks in this manner. However, José had foreseen that they wouldn't have enough for the whole game.
And everything had unfolded just as planned.
"Now, let's shatter this hell myth!" José thought, his confidence unwavering. He was sure that he had successfully turned the situation around, seizing control of everything.