Super Wingstorm

"Because you were deceived by your own instincts!"

Old Ice’s cold words made Yang Yang feel as if he’d had a sudden revelation.

"Everyone wants to be in control, to anticipate and react to potential crises. Defenders are no different. That’s why Ronaldo didn’t sprint at his top speed at first. It’s a way to confuse his opponent, to make you subconsciously predict the exact spot where he’ll enter your defensive zone and prepare to defend against it."

"But when he suddenly changed his pace, it completely disrupted your plan, leaving you at a loss. So when you saw his feint, you couldn’t help but react, because you needed to compensate for your earlier misjudgment."

At this point, Old Ice delivered its cold verdict.

"Sometimes, in trying to make up for a past mistake, people unconsciously end up making an even bigger one."

Yang Yang understood. He knew where the problem lay.

To put it simply, it was all about the change in pace.

It was about using that change of pace to catch an opponent off guard and bait them into making a mistake.

Star players with a wealth of defensive experience can usually rely on that experience and their own ability to minimize mistakes. But even they had no truly effective way to deal with Ronaldo at his peak.

Except for fouling!

’Thinking about it more, my performance has improved a lot in the team’s rondo drills lately. My ball-winning has gotten so much more efficient. Isn’t that because I’m always feinting one way and going the other? Isn’t that also a kind of variation?’

"It can’t be that simple, right?" After thinking for a moment, Yang Yang voiced his doubt.

"You’re right. It’s not that simple."

"The change of pace is just one trick. The real key lies in Ronaldo’s outstanding footwork and ability to adjust."

The image changed again. The tracks showing Yang Yang’s path were hidden, leaving only Ronaldo’s, which were then magnified.

"Watch closely. He can control his stride at will: the length of each step, the exact placement of each footfall. These are all things he’s planned out. And he adopts different strategies for different opponents."

"The reason he accelerated earlier when facing you, compared to when he faced the defensive mannequin, is because you were mentally prepared."

"To him, half a step earlier or half a step later makes no difference at all. But for a defender, it’s a completely different story."

Yang Yang understood and was thoroughly convinced. At the very least, he clearly realized what a terrifying gap existed between himself and professional players, especially one like Ronaldo.

After all, the Pendulum Move was just one of Ronaldo’s signature skills during his peak.

But even this Pendulum Move, which seemed simple and easy to learn, contained such profound intricacies.

And this was just a tiny part of the "Charge" Star Skill from Ronaldo. It was clear just how deep and complex Ronaldo’s charge was at his peak; it likely represented the very essence of the soccer wisdom he had accumulated over his career.

"I have a question." Yang Yang was now like a model student, eager to learn. "You said Ronaldo’s foot placement, stride frequency, and stride length are all planned in advance. But is he really thinking about all these things during a match?"

"No. A match is constantly changing. He has absolutely no time to think."

Now Yang Yang was confused again. "Then how does he do it?"

"Muscle memory," Old Ice said succinctly.

Now Yang Yang understood.

In fact, back in his home country, the coach who taught Yang Yang to play soccer had said more than once that the gap between professional and amateur players was astounding and all-encompassing. But in the end, besides physical fitness and awareness, the most important thing was muscle memory.

Just like Ronaldo. Every touch of the ball, every step he took, was the result of countless hours of playing and training over the past twenty years. It was forged through relentless practice, eventually forming a kind of muscle memory.

So, for him, playing like this was like an instinctive habit.

"Now I understand why he’s Ronaldo," Yang Yang praised with sincere admiration.

To become a superstar, exceptional talent was certainly part of it, but the most important thing was still hard work.

"Your time is limited. You only have one night. So you should focus on practicing this Pendulum Move. As for how much of its power you can unleash, that’s up to you," Old Ice said, still in its mechanical tone.

Yang Yang understood. Quality over quantity. What he needed most right now was one solid skill to rely on.

There was another great benefit to training in the Super Training field: the speed at which one developed muscle memory was faster than in reality. But even so, it was simply impossible to learn the Pendulum Move and master it completely in a single night.

Time was tight. Yang Yang couldn’t set any specific goals for himself. He could only seize the time he had and practice as hard as possible.

...

...

On Saturday morning, the skate park was even more deserted than usual.

But just like any other day, Yang Yang got up early. After telling his uncle he was leaving, he headed to the park to train, juggling a ball as he went.

Playing soccer was all about practice makes perfect. Train in the dead of winter, train in the height of summer. There could be no slacking off, especially with the fundamentals.

As the saying goes: a day of training is a day of gains, but skip a day and you lose ten.

Since it was Saturday and there was no school, Yang Yang’s morning training load was greater than usual. He doubled all his drills and only stopped, panting heavily, after he was drenched in sweat.

As he prepared to walk over to a nearby bench to rest, he found that a middle-aged Dutch stranger was sitting there.

He looked to be about fifty, wearing a sports cap with a golf ball logo in the center. Under the brim was a rather serious face, with temples that were completely white. His figure was slightly bloated, his large belly stretching his gray polo shirt so tight that it looked like he was pregnant.

The middle-aged Dutchman sat on the bench, holding a bottle of water in each hand, looking quite imposing.

When Yang Yang walked over, he offered the water in his left hand without saying a word.

"No, thank you." Yang Yang didn’t know him, so of course he wouldn’t take it.

But the Dutchman was unmoved. Not only did he not pull his hand back, he pushed it even closer. "Let’s talk for a bit."

From the man’s expression, Yang Yang understood. This was a stubborn guy. Refusing him wouldn’t be easy.

"Thanks." Yang Yang took the water but didn’t open it. Instead, he placed it to the side and took a towel from his backpack to wipe the sweat from his body.

"I’ve been watching you for a few days." Under the brim of his cap, the Dutchman squinted at the graffiti-covered wall in front of them.

"Hm?" Yang Yang wasn’t paying close attention.

The Dutchman didn’t repeat himself. Instead, he asked, "You’re from Baken Academy?"

"Yeah." Yang Yang nodded. Baken Academy was just north of the park, so it wasn’t strange that he’d guessed.

"Playing for the Almere Club’s youth team?" the Dutchman asked again.

"Yeah." Yang Yang nodded again.

"John Reep and Dick Van Puer have good eyes. How did you get in?"

Yang Yang glanced at the Dutchman silently but didn’t answer. From the man’s tone, he felt that he was very familiar with John Reep and Dick Van Puer.

"You know Mr. Reep?" Yang Yang asked back.

"Of course. We were teammates on the youth team," the Dutchman replied lightly.

"Ajax?" Yang Yang was a little surprised.

It was common knowledge within the Almere Team that John Reep came from Ajax.

The Dutchman nodded faintly. "He was a product of the youth academy, but I wasn’t. I was just fortunate enough to be his teammate on the youth team for two years. Later, he was promoted to the first team, while I..."

Although he stopped there, Yang Yang could faintly tell that his development at Ajax probably hadn’t gone well.

"Your fundamentals are very poor," the Dutchman said, changing the subject.

’This guy might be a soccer veteran, but isn’t that a bit too blunt?’ Yang Yang was rather embarrassed.

But he still nodded with a grunt, acknowledging the fact.

"Looking at you, you should be sixteen or seventeen, right?"

"Sixteen."

"John Reep brought the whole Ajax youth training system to Almere. At your age, it will be very difficult to pass the assessment, won’t it?" the Dutchman said, looking calmly at Yang Yang.

To deduce all this from just a few words, it was clear that the man was very familiar with the Ajax youth system.

"Did John Reep and Dick Van Puer not explain the situation to you clearly?"

Yang Yang hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "They did."

"Then why do you still come here every day for extra training? Don’t you know that what you’re doing right now is useless?"

"Why would you think it’s useless?" Yang Yang shot back.

"Isn’t it?"

"Of course not. No matter what happens in the future, as long as you’re willing to put in the effort, there will always be a reward."

"But in the end, you still won’t be able to pass the assessment. Isn’t that a waste of effort?"

Yang Yang nodded. "No one knows the result until the very last moment."

After a pause, Yang Yang looked the Dutchman straight in the eye. "Sir, I can tell you work in soccer. You should know it’s just like a ninety-minute match. Right now, it’s only the eighty-fifth minute for me. I might be losing, but who can say I don’t have a chance to turn it around at the end?"

Before the Dutchman could speak, Yang Yang pressed on in one breath.

"How many times did Ferguson’s Red Devils Manchester United pull off a last-minute comeback in ’99? They even overturned a deficit against Bayern Munich in the final to win the title, completing that miraculous Treble. Isn’t that the magic of soccer? If Ferguson and his players had only been thinking of giving up when they were losing to Bayern Munich, would that legendary comeback have ever happened?"

Hearing this, the Dutchman looked at the young man standing before him, slightly moved. Yang Yang’s words had struck a chord with him, allowing a faint ray of sunshine to pierce through the gloomy, oppressive mood he had been in for the past six months.

He never denied that he was a stubborn and obstinate person, but the successive blows of recent years had taught him a painful lesson, even leaving him feeling defeated. And he was precisely the type of person who wouldn’t listen to others’ advice; no matter how his friends and family tried to persuade him, he remained unmoved.

But now, Yang Yang’s words made him feel a sense of kinship, even stirring a little resonance within him.

As long as the game isn’t over, there’s still a chance.

Finding they didn’t have much in common to talk about, Yang Yang wasn’t keen on speaking with him further. After thanking him for the bottle of water, he shouldered his backpack and headed back.

The Dutchman behind him, however, silently watched Yang Yang’s departing figure. Suddenly, the corners of his mouth turned up, and he actually smiled.

"What an interesting kid."