Chapter 315: Master Allegri, Let Me Show You What I've Learned
"Do we really need to wait for the rescheduled match? If we win two more, aren't we champions already?!"
"That depends on City dropping points in their next two matches. If they win both, we still can't seal the title early, even if we win our next two."
"If we'd just played that Leicester match earlier in the season, we'd be 17 points ahead by now. God... I can't wait another second!"
"You want to kill yourself with that kind of schedule? If we'd played Leicester then, we wouldn't have had such an easy time in the League Cup final."
"It's just Spurs~ Even if we played that final a hundred times, we'd still win every one of them!"
…
The night after their win over Stoke, Chelsea gathered for a rare team dinner.
With the grueling stretch of fixtures behind them, the Premier League schedule had returned to a more manageable rhythm.
With time to breathe, Mourinho allowed himself to be generous. After the victory, he gave the squad two full days off.
In the private dining room, everyone was relaxed, cheerful.
They'd fought through the toughest part of the season. Now, the harvest was coming.
Fast rebuild. Back-to-back league titles. In the Premier League of all places.
Even the ever-composed Leon was quietly riding a high.
Of course, the banter and bold talk stayed within that room.
After the meal, the core players quickly sobered up. Even the more excitable youngsters got a dose of reality from their senior teammates.
That's where Chelsea's veterans played a vital role.
They'd won plenty. Lost plenty too. Their experience was invaluable.
The saying goes: "An old man in the house is like a treasure." In football, that's timeless truth.
Mourinho dared to grant his players open holidays only because he knew veterans like Terry, Lampard, and Drogba would keep the young guns in check.
And with Leon leading by example, even the likes of Lukaku and Bertrand wouldn't dare go wild.
Sure enough, when training resumed, no player returned in a condition that disappointed Mourinho.
Training intensity remained high.
Yes, their next opponent—QPR, bottom of the Premier League—posed little threat.
But the Champions League quarterfinal was just around the corner, and Mourinho wasn't about to let up.
He needed his squad sharp. He needed them ready to surge down the home stretch of three major competitions.
As far as he was concerned, they'd earn their rest after April 22nd, once the second leg of the quarterfinal was done.
By that time, if all went to plan, Chelsea would've sealed the league title and qualified for the FA Cup final.
A proper rest period could finally begin.
After that, just four games would stand between Chelsea and a perfect season.
The finish line wasn't abstract anymore—it was right there, within reach.
A little more effort now, and Chelsea could grasp the glory.
Mourinho had done this before. He knew this stretch better than anyone.
Back at Real Madrid, he didn't have the same level of control in the dressing room. Managing all those egos was exhausting.
Even so, he still led them to league and Champions League titles.
Now, in Chelsea, without that burden, he poured himself into tactical prep.
Every hour not spent in training was spent analyzing Juventus.
Their manager?
An old acquaintance of his. Of Leon's. Of Ibrahimović's.
Facing Allegri again after all these years brought back some memories.
Back then, Mourinho never thought Allegri would one day coach what looked like the Serie A version of the Galácticos.
And at the same time, in Turin, Allegri was poring over how to crack Chelsea.
Unlike Mourinho, who was focused purely on the tactical battle, Allegri's motivations ran deeper.
He wanted to beat Mourinho. In front of Leon.
Years ago, he had fought to keep Leon at Milan—only to be rejected, again and again.
It hurt. A lot.
He had invested heavily in Leon. In just half a season, he had crafted a tactical blueprint around him.
And to be fair, without Allegri's groundwork, Leon wouldn't have been able to flourish so quickly after returning to Madrid.
That year-on-year explosion of talent, the climb to become the world's best holding midfielder under Mourinho—every step of it had Allegri quietly bleeding inside.
Because he was the one who unlocked Leon's offensive instincts first.
He was the first to give Leon creative freedom.
He discovered Leon's ability to dictate play and handed him the keys to the midfield.
But in the end, Mourinho reaped the rewards.
Any manager would feel bitter.
Back when Allegri was stuck in a declining AC Milan, he accepted it.
But now, with Juventus dominating Serie A and reaching the Champions League quarterfinals, he had a new platform.
Was his Juventus weaker than Mourinho's Chelsea?
Allegri didn't think so.
When the draw was announced and Chelsea were paired with Juventus, Italian media groaned with dread.
Allegri, though, was thrilled.
He didn't blame Leon for choosing Madrid back then.
Milan really couldn't offer him a future at that point.
But now?
Juventus could.
Even if Leon chose to stay loyal to Mourinho, Allegri wanted to resolve the lingering knot in his chest.
He wasn't out to poach.
He was out to prove.
To Leon. To the world.
That he wasn't inferior to Mourinho.
That he, too, could harness Leon's brilliance.
Allegri's determination was ironclad.
To make sure his veterans were at peak fitness, he even restructured their training cycles heading into the tie with Chelsea.
He even decisively gave up Matchday 30 of Serie A, allowing Roma and Lazio to close the points gap between themselves and Juventus.
Of course, even with that loss to Parma, Juve still led Roma by a full 12 points on the table.
Strategically conceding one match was something Juventus could afford, and their fans fully understood the decision.
Chelsea, too, fielded a heavily rotated squad in their domestic fixture prior to the Champions League clash, resting all of their veteran starters.
Fortunately, the opposition was weak, and Chelsea cruised to a comfortable 2–0 away win.
Leon only played 60 minutes and didn't contribute a goal or assist.
Still, he orchestrated the opening attack and helped Chelsea find the early breakthrough.
The other two Chelsea starters—Hazard and Thiago Silva—were subbed off at halftime as well.
After wrapping up Matchday 32 of the Premier League, Chelsea flew to Turin the very next day.
Once again, Mourinho stood opposite Juventus.
And once again, he was met in Turin with a storm of boos.
The animosity stemmed from his two-year reign at Inter Milan—long ago, yes, but the sting still lingered.
After leading Inter to a historic treble, Mourinho was forever branded with Nerazzurri colors in the eyes of Juventus fans.
Even if twenty years passed, as long as Mourinho stood on a touchline in Turin, he'd be booed.
This time, the entire Chelsea squad could feel the pre-match tension in the air.
After their official training session on the pitch, Chelsea quickly returned to the team hotel.
Even Bertrand—usually the liveliest of the group—showed no interest in exploring Turin's nightlife the night before the match.
On the morning of April 14th, Chelsea held their final training session at the facility provided by Juventus.
The season's most anticipated Champions League quarterfinal had officially entered its final countdown.
Compared to the other tie scheduled for that same evening—Atlético Madrid vs. Arsenal—Chelsea vs. Juventus drew far more attention.
Two domestic champions.
Two tactically disciplined managers—Mourinho and Allegri—facing off.
Leon vs. Pirlo.
There were too many storylines.
When the live broadcast began, UEFA officials were thrilled to see the international viewership numbers spike to record highs.
Still, there was one moment before kickoff that softened the tension: Leon and Pogba exchanged smiles and a warm handshake during the lineup ceremony.
Everyone knew Pogba idolized Leon—even if he was only two years younger.
When he first broke onto the scene in Serie A, Pogba publicly expressed his admiration for Leon.
It didn't matter if it was about Leon's complete skill set or his ability to rack up trophies—he said what he felt.
And he'd never walked it back since.
Leon wasn't one to go collecting "little brothers," but with Pogba so openly respectful and friendly, he made sure to return the gesture.
Still—friendly before and after the match was fine.
But once the whistle blew? Leon would show no mercy.
At 19:45 local time, the Champions League quarterfinal first leg kicked off in Turin.
Juventus, as expected, set up cautiously at home.
Chelsea, who kicked off, immediately expanded their formation and seized midfield control.
Mourinho showed no hesitation in his tactics.
He knew Allegri as well as anyone—and knew the man had no problem parking the bus when necessary.
No gimmicks. No flashy twists.
And when facing this version of Juventus, the key battle would be in the midfield.
Chelsea, by most accounts, had the strongest midfield in Europe.
But who was second-best? That was still up for debate.
Some leaned toward Bayern or Madrid.
But Mourinho?
He believed Juventus were now the clear number two.
Madrid were still rebuilding after Xabi Alonso's departure.
Bayern were still struggling with Schweinsteiger's rapid decline.
Juventus, meanwhile, had a balanced blend of youth and experience—more than capable of going toe-to-toe with Chelsea.
Mourinho's biggest concern?
Pirlo.
That's why he pushed Leon up into the advanced midfield role—specifically to take on his old mentor head-to-head.
Back at Milan, with Leon covering him, Pirlo had been free to reinvent himself.
Now?
The protector had become the disruptor.
Mourinho was eager to see if Allegri had found a "bodyguard" good enough to contain Leon.
After so many years, Leon found himself facing Pirlo once again on the biggest stage.
There was respect in his eyes, and gratitude in his heart.
Pirlo, too, was flooded with emotion—but he didn't show it.
Not now.
Not here.
Tonight, they weren't mentor and student.
They were rivals with blades drawn.
With Pogba and Marchisio flanking him, Pirlo could focus on scanning the field, leaving ball distribution to the others for now.
Leon didn't rush.
He knew Juventus would eventually need Pirlo to dictate the pace.
Sure, Pogba and Marchisio could progress the ball.
But no one—not even combined—could read the entire pitch like Pirlo.
Leon knew his role. He raised his head—and met Pirlo's smiling gaze from across the field.
"Maestro Pirlo, this time I'm not here to protect you.
I'm here to show you everything I've learned."
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