"Not used to it? You'll get used to it. That guy's counterattacks are very fast."
Deschamps walked over to Zinedine Zidane and said.
He had gone through the same thing over the years. Back when he was at Marseille, he had already run into Dejan Lu and Sampdoria.
After transferring to Juventus, he had continued to get thrashed.
Just when Dejan Lu had finally left, they still had to face Manchester United in the Champions League.
This tough Frenchman had more or less gotten used to it by now.
Zidane nodded without saying anything.
Technically gifted players were naturally proud, and he did not have the best temper either.
But having a bad temper did not mean he was stupid. He knew exactly how strong Dejan Lu was.
In football, if you could win, then doing something extra at most got people criticizing your lack of sportsmanship.
If you could not win and still tried to pull tricks, people would only look down on you.
He had understood that since childhood. As the son of immigrants, he had matured earlier than most.
More importantly, his idol, the Uruguayan Prince Francescoli, had also lost to Dejan Lu. Zidane had long been mentally prepared for the possibility that he might not be able to beat Dejan Lu.
Lippi clapped toward the pitch and gestured as he said, "Watch yourselves. We're supposed to counterattack—don't give them a chance to counterattack us. Even if you have to foul them, break up their counters. AC Milan's counterattacks are dangerous."
In his ideal scenario, Juventus only needed to make sensible tactical fouls in the final third.
Not only would that break up AC Milan's counterattacks, it would also make their opponents lose their composure.
But that was only theory. The players were not used to suddenly