Sports Medicine Master System

Schumacher was a bit emotional. He sat down to compose himself.

Moratti, who was beside him, was clearly familiar with Desler’s situation. Knowing that Chen Yu didn’t follow soccer closely, he took the initiative to explain.

"At the U-17 World Cup, he won the Silver Ball Award. He has a flair and finesse that you don’t see in traditional German soccer."

"Let’s put it this way: if you didn’t know his nationality, you’d think he was Brazilian just from watching him play." Moratti thought for a moment before summing it up in a single sentence.

Berlusconi, sitting nearby, nodded in agreement and commented, "That kid is really something."

Clearly, these two bigwigs of Serie A had their eyes on the German prodigy for a while.

"That’s why I find it such a shame," Schumacher said with a long sigh.

It was a ruptured cruciate ligament—the nightmare of countless athletes.

In the world of soccer, there were some cases of players who managed to return to peak form and deliver brilliant performances after suffering a major cruciate ligament injury.

In the past, you had players like Alan Shearer and Baggio. More recently, there was Van Nistelrooy.

But was that peak really their true peak?

After tearing his cruciate ligament, Alan Shearer lost his explosive power. And after Baggio tore his ligament, how many years did he play while dragging a hobbled leg?

Besides, theirs were only tears, not complete ruptures.

For anyone who suffered a rupture and claimed to have returned to their peak, that peak was definitely not their true peak.

No exceptions.

It was safe to say that once you suffered this injury, your body could never reach its true peak again.

This was why Schumacher felt it was such a terrible shame and had rushed over the moment he heard Chen Yu was in Italy.

He couldn’t bear to see the future of German soccer ruined on his watch.

"He was injured last week..."

Before Schumacher could finish, a huge cheer erupted from outside.

Chen Yu turned his head and saw Ronaldo with the ball outside AC Milan’s penalty area. The ball seemed glued to his feet as he weaved and dodged through a crowd of defenders. The shoves and challenges from the AC Milan players around him were relentless, but he somehow stayed on his feet. Finally, with a touch of genius, he poked the ball, and it slipped through Larsen’s legs.

Ronaldo then squeezed between two players, caught up to the ball, and took a shot.

Perhaps he didn’t have time to generate enough power, as the shot lacked force.

Abbiati instinctively dropped to the ground and stuck out a leg, blocking the ball.

Countless Inter fans sighed in disappointment.

Beside Chen Yu, Berlusconi subconsciously clutched his chest, gasping for breath after the close call, clearly spooked.

Moratti had been about to jump up and celebrate, but his excitement was for nothing.

Still, after sitting back down, he couldn’t help but applaud.

The ball didn’t go in, but the play was incredibly threatening and showcased Ronaldo’s unbelievable individual skill to the fullest.

For a moment, it felt like watching the Ronaldo of the ’96-’97 season. That year in La Liga, including cup matches, Ronaldo scored 47 goals in 49 appearances. His offensive prowess stunned the soccer world and marked the beginning of his career’s peak.

Looking at Ronaldo now, who would believe he had just returned from a career-ending injury after more than a year of recovery?

Even Schumacher instinctively wanted to shout, "What a play!"

It was truly a magnificent play.

Just then, Chen Yu turned his head and said, "You don’t need to say any more. Have him get ready to go to the United States with me. He’s on the National Team, right? Don’t worry, I can guarantee he’ll be healthy and ready to play before the World Cup next year."

A ruptured cruciate ligament was, for the current Chen Yu, not a very serious problem.

"Yes, yes, of course."

Schumacher nodded excitedly, lowering his head to secretly wipe the corner of his eye.

Chen Yu turned back to watch the game, but a thought suddenly popped into his head.

’So many soccer stars are coming to me for treatment. If I heal all of them and they all play in the World Cup next year, won’t the United States Team be screwed?’

’Am I arming the enemy?’

But the thought was fleeting.

’With the United States Team’s skill level, they had no hope of touching the FIFA World Cup trophy anyway. No matter how strong the opponents were, it wouldn’t affect the United States Team’s performance.’

On the other hand, for these stars, the World Cup only came once every four years. It would be a huge shame if they missed it.

’Wouldn’t it be better to let these top players give their all at the World Cup with no regrets?’

Chen Yu thought of Baggio.

For his long-term recovery, Chen Yu needed him to start rehabilitation training early. Starting at this stage was, in fact, extremely painful.

But Baggio, a man of few words, never once complained. He completed every scheduled rehabilitation exercise meticulously.

Furthermore, to aid his recovery, Chen Yu had set a very strict schedule and diet for him. He lived like an ascetic, following every instruction to the letter.

Chen Yu knew he was putting in all this effort for one last push at the World Cup.

"By the way, Massimo." Chen Yu turned to Moratti and asked if he had spoken to Trapattoni about Baggio.

At the mention of Baggio and Trapattoni, Berlusconi on the other side perked up his ears.

Moratti nodded. "We’ve talked. He’s willing to give Baggio a chance to assess his physical condition before the final World Cup roster is decided next year."

Just a chance.

But Chen Yu felt that was enough. With Baggio’s personality, he probably wouldn’t accept a spot on the team if it was given out of pity.

As they were speaking, another thrilling moment unfolded in the match below.

Less than two minutes after his last near-goal, Ronaldo was at it again.

He charged forward with the ball, his speed terrifyingly fast.

AC Milan was playing a 3-4-1-2 formation, and alarm bells were ringing once again in their weak defense.

Having no other choice, Maldini took Ronaldo down with a fierce slide tackle near the penalty area.

He received a yellow card for it.

The entire stadium erupted.

In the sections where Inter and AC Milan fans were adjacent, the two sides nearly came to blows.

In the box, Moratti angrily pounded on the glass, yelling that Maldini should be sent off. After shouting, he shot an indignant glare at Berlusconi.

"It was a normal tackle," Berlusconi argued awkwardly.

Fortunately, Ronaldo got up quickly after falling.

He seemed fine.

Chen Yu broke into a cold sweat. ’No wonder the media says Ronaldo started getting injured frequently after coming to Serie A.’

’With defenders tackling like that, going for the man every time, it’d be a miracle not to get injured.’

But there was nothing to be done. This was competitive sports.

’In the National Football League, the hits are much harder, and they’re perfectly legal.’

’Then there’s ice hockey, where they just straight up brawl, and they even have players specifically for fighting.’

The referee awarded a free kick.

It was a free kick from about 30 yards out, a direct shot on goal.

Although Ronaldo wasn’t Inter’s primary free-kick taker, he stepped up and stood before the ball.

When Ronaldo stood more than five meters back, everyone knew this shot would be all power, no finesse.

Ronaldo took a deep breath, took his run-up, twisted his body, and his powerful thighs unleashed incredible force, smashing into the ball.

The ball shot off like a cannonball.

It felt like it could kill a man if it hit him head-on.

Albertini, a member of the wall, jumped. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the ball flying straight at his face. He instinctively turned his body and head, and the ball zipped past his ear with a slight upward curve, burying itself in the back of the net.

Goal!

The entire San Siro Stadium erupted in an instant.

Ronaldo spread his arms and ran across the field in celebration.

In the box, Moratti, a man nearly sixty, jumped up and down on the spot, shouting and ignoring Berlusconi’s gloomy face beside him.

Only 26 minutes into the game, Ronaldo had already scored a brace. His performance was more than just explosive.

On the field, Ronaldo impatiently pushed away his celebrating teammates, faced Chen Yu’s box, and yanked up his jersey.

On the white undershirt beneath, there was a face printed on it.

From a distance, Chen Yu couldn’t see it clearly. He turned to look at the television in the box.

The camera had already zoomed in on Ronaldo.

"Shit."

Chen Yu cursed under his breath. It was a picture of his own face, and there was a sentence written above his head.

"Thank you, my friend!"

’Oh, thank you so much.’

’Where did he even find this photo? Why is it so ugly?’

Beside him, Lexi let out a snort and couldn’t help but laugh.

In the stands, tens of thousands of Inter fans fell silent for a moment before starting to chant a single word in unison.

Grazie!

"Chen, do you hear that? They’re thanking you! Thanking you for healing Ronnie, for letting Ronnie return to the field healthy," Moratti said, pointing out the window, his voice thick with emotion.

Chen Yu sighed inwardly and nodded with a smile.

Down by two goals, AC Milan wasn’t demoralized. This was a derby, a battle of destiny.

Eight minutes later, AC Milan found an opportunity.

They launched an attack from a corner kick. After a couple of passes, Albertini sent an inspired chip shot straight toward the goal.

"The Nuclear Warhead" Shevchenko leaped high, overpowering Materazzi, and sent a powerful header straight at the goal.

It had plenty of power, but the angle was just a bit too direct.

Toldo came to the rescue, instinctively throwing up an arm to block the ball.

Saneidi quickly kicked the ball out of bounds.

In the box, Moratti clutched his chest and leaned back.

Amused and exasperated, Chen Yu scanned him with the Eye of All-Seeing. ’This old man, isn’t he worried about his heart at all?’

That was AC Milan’s best chance of the first half. They failed to create anything significant after that.

2-0. Inter ended the first half with a two-goal lead.

Halftime.

Chen Yu thought for a moment, then stood up and said, "I’m going to check on Ronnie."

Chen Yu was worried that the tackle in the first half might have injured Ronaldo.

If he were far away in the United States and couldn’t see it, he wouldn’t have cared.

But since he was here in person, he was willing to make the short trip to take a quick look.

Moratti realized what he was doing and quickly said, "I’ll go with you."

"No need."

Chen Yu waved his hand and left by himself.

Beside him, Berlusconi sighed for some reason. "He’s a good doctor."

Moratti agreed with that, then added with a helpless tone, "He just won’t come to Italy."

He suddenly started to envy the Phoenix Suns. How lucky they were to have Chen Yu as their team doctor.

The locker room was a sea of celebration.

Leading 2-0 in the derby, the probability of winning was now over seventy percent.

The key was Ronaldo. After recovering for over a year, to be in this kind of form upon his return... they were all professionals, they all knew how incredibly difficult that was. It could even be called a miracle.

Chen Yu entered and silently scanned Ronaldo’s body with the Eye of All-Seeing.

Nothing major, just a muscle contusion.

That didn’t even count as a real injury.

"By the way, your celebration was very creative, but please don’t celebrate like that again in the second half," Chen Yu added as he was leaving.

’It must have been a promotional photo.’

’My chin was slightly raised with a hint of smugness. If it were a full-body shot, it would be fine—it would look quite imposing hung over a doorway.’

’But just the head... it looked cringey no matter how you looked at it.’

"Haha," Ronaldo laughed heartily. "No way! Just you wait. I’ll celebrate like that every time I score. You’re the one who said I’m perfectly healthy. I have to get a hat-trick."

Chen Yu was speechless. ’Can’t I just take back what I said?’