Super Wingstorm

As Yang Yang slowly came to, he was still in a daze. His feet felt like they were on something strange. He kicked out a few times and immediately heard the angry roar of the Swedish striker, Ibrahimovic.

"What the hell, who’s kicking my face?"

This jolted Yang Yang further awake. He turned his head and saw that three people were somehow squeezed onto his one-and-a-half-meter single bed.

’Since when did Vermaelen and Ibrahimovic end up in my bed?’

’What’s going on?’

’How did these two bastards get over here?’

Yang Yang found it amusing to see the Swedish striker roar once before immediately going back to snoring loudly.

’This guy who loves to look cool got his face kicked by my smelly feet, and he can still sleep through it?’

As he struggled to sit up, Yang Yang spotted Maxwell on the floor. He’d clearly been kicked off the bed, but by whom, there was no telling.

’In any case, it definitely wasn’t me.’

Yang Yang shook his head vigorously. He glanced over at the adjacent bed, and a scandalous sight met his eyes.

That guy De Jong had somehow ended up in Sneijder’s bed, and the two were sleeping in an embrace.

’My God, isn’t that a bit much?’

Yang Yang finally wriggled free, hopped off the bed, and sat down in the nearby armchair to get his thoughts in order.

Last night at AufSchalke, when Van der Vaart accepted the Saint Berlade Cup from UEFA President Johansson, the atmosphere reached its peak. Afterward, everyone posed for a group photo and took individual turns celebrating with the trophy.

Yang Yang remembered all of that clearly. But then they got carried away with the celebrations on the pitch, continuing the party all the way to the locker room. They popped champagne, and he vaguely recalled someone doing a striptease. Someone else was shouting about rushing back to Amsterdam to hit the Red Light District. Then, some unknown person had shoved a bottle of champagne into his hands, and then...

He slapped his aching head. Yang Yang had no memory of what happened after that. It was obvious he had passed out and been carried back to the hotel, while these guys must have continued the party here.

Glancing at De Jong and Sneijder on the other bed, Yang Yang checked his own jersey and shorts, secretly relieved that everything was still in place.

’Why on earth did I drink?’ Yang Yang was filled with regret.

But regret was useless now.

Yang Yang reeked of a mixture of stale champagne and sweat. The smell was overpowering. He quickly grabbed his things, rushed to take a refreshing shower, and changed into a set of clean, dry clothes.

He looked back at his teammates, passed out like corpses on the beds and the floor, and couldn’t help but shake his head and sigh.

’If a reporter got a picture of this, it would be a worldwide scandal.’

After leaving his room, Yang Yang found all the Ajax players and coaching staff still fast asleep. He asked a hotel attendant and learned that they had been celebrating all through the night.

"You were the only one who had to be carried back," the attendant said, giggling at Yang Yang.

Yang Yang waved his hand awkwardly. ’How mortifying.’

But as he passed by the conference room, he glanced through the glass door. He saw the team captain, Van der Vaart, asleep in a corner, clutching the Saint Berlade Cup. ’What in the world is going on here?’

Yang Yang could easily picture the scene: the whole team in a wild frenzy, fighting over the Saint Berlade Cup. Van der Vaart must have snuck away with the trophy to hide in the conference room, only to fall asleep there himself.

At the thought, he couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle.

It was no wonder his teammates were so ecstatic.

Half a year ago, Ajax was struggling just to make it out of the group stage. Who could have possibly imagined this day?

At that time, Ajax had been in turmoil, the situation precarious. Fortunately, at the critical moment, Technical Director Van Gaal stabilized the team. He persuaded the two star players, Ibrahimovic and Van der Vaart, to stay and later reconciled with Talabesi. That was how Ajax was reborn, and that was what led to this Champions League title.

Looking back now, it really hadn’t been easy.

If it was an incredible journey for them, Yang Yang felt it even more profoundly.

In the past year, his own world had been turned upside down. The changes had come so fast he could barely process them. Every time he looked back, it felt like a dream.

"Thank you, Old Ice," Yang Yang said to Old Ice in the Super Training.

"Don’t thank me. This was all on you. Everything you’ve gained is the result of your own hard work," Old Ice replied calmly.

"Still, thank you," Yang Yang insisted.

...

...

"Why are you up so early?"

Yang Yang was standing at the entrance of the hotel lobby, gazing at the scenic garden before him. Beyond it, a lakeside park looked even more stunningly beautiful in the morning sun. He was feeling emotional about this brand new start when Van Gaal’s voice suddenly sounded from behind him.

Seeing Yang Yang jump in surprise and turn around, Van Gaal chuckled, "Care to join me for a walk?"

"Alright."

The two walked out of the hotel and strolled through the deserted Beg Park.

He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but the morning air felt exceptionally fresh, almost sweet. Yang Yang couldn’t help but take a few deep, greedy breaths of the invigorating air.

Van Gaal walked slowly, seeming to be lost in thought, yet also appearing to admire the park’s beautiful scenery.

Neither of them spoke, unwilling to break the precious tranquility. They followed the small path through the park until they came to a fork in the road.

"I’m leaving," Van Gaal said suddenly.

"Huh?" Yang Yang didn’t understand. "Are we going back to the hotel?"

"No, I’m leaving Ajax."

Yang Yang was taken aback. "Why? Things are going great. Why would you leave?"

"Opmel was right, I’m not suited for this position. I belong in the dugout. I’m still not ready to give up; I want another chance to prove myself as a manager," Van Gaal said calmly, offering Yang Yang a faint smile at the end.

Yang Yang sensed this wasn’t an impulsive decision, but a rational one that had been a long time in the making.

He felt a pang of sadness and reluctance.

Although they didn’t interact much within Ajax, he always knew Van Gaal considered him a friend, and he felt the same way. Now, that friend was leaving.

’Ibrahimovic is leaving, Van der Vaart is leaving, Talabesi is leaving, and now Van Gaal is leaving too. Just how many people are going to leave Ajax this summer?’

"Where are you going?"

"Not far. Just north of Amsterdam, to Alkmaar."

Yang Yang nodded. He knew of it; it really wasn’t far. He could go and visit anytime.

"They’ve been in contact with me for several months. I’ve been hesitating. Originally, I considered taking you with me. From the day I lost that bet to Trus, I’ve always hoped that one day you could become one of my players."

A few months ago, Yang Yang was still just an obscure young talent. If Van Gaal had gone to manage Alkmaar back then and convinced Ajax to sell, Yang Yang would have moved to Alkmaar without a second thought to play for him.

"But who would have thought? In just a few short months, you’ve created so many upsets and given us all so many surprises. So much so that I now feel Alkmaar is no longer the right place for you. You should stay at Ajax."

Van Gaal’s voice was calm, but Yang Yang could detect a hint of regret and wistfulness in his tone.

And Yang Yang felt the same way.

"You know, I was actually ready to leave six months ago. It was you, in that match against Bruges, who gave me a lifeline. It gave me the chance to push through my reform plan at Ajax. That plan affected a lot of people and tangled with a lot of vested interests. Regardless of whether it succeeded or failed, it would have been difficult for me to remain at the club."

Yang Yang nodded silently. He had heard people say this before, but hadn’t paid it any mind.

"Before I leave, I’ll arrange a meeting with Raiola to discuss your contract renewal. As Ajax’s technical director, I’ll certainly negotiate as hard as I can for the club. But as your friend, I hope you get what you deserve."

Again, Yang Yang just nodded silently. He truly didn’t know what to say, and his heart felt heavy.

"As your friend, and also as a manager, I urge you to keep drilling your fundamentals. That’s the foundation for your future career in European football. The more solid your foundation, the smoother your development will be, and the higher you will soar."

"You’re young now, your body is young, full of vitality. But you have to understand that injuries and age will constantly wear down your body. One day, your speed will decline. Your dribbling won’t be as sharp. What will you do then? Without outstanding technique and superior football intelligence, how will you keep your footing in European football?"

Yang Yang couldn’t help but think of Ronaldo, the phenom who once took world football by storm.

What was the seventeen-year-old Ronaldo like?

At Cruzeiro in the Brazilian league, he made 60 appearances and scored 58 goals. For the first team specifically, that was 44 goals in 44 appearances. He made it to the Brazil National Team and was part of the squad that won the World Cup in the United States.

That summer, at seventeen, he joined Eindhoven for a hefty price of six million US dollars. In his first Eredivisie season, he scored thirty goals in thirty-three appearances.

That was the Eredivisie in 1994!

Back then, the Bosman Law had not yet been implemented, and the three giants of the Eredivisie could go toe-to-toe with the top powerhouses of the Four Major Leagues. Van Gaal, with his young Ajax squad, was gearing up to conquer European football.

Back then, Ronaldo was about his age now. He must have been full of swagger and utterly fearless. The entire world was certain he would become the next legendary superstar of world football, the successor to King of Football Pele and Maradona.

But in the short span of ten years, how many injuries had Ronaldo endured? His speed kept decreasing while his weight kept increasing, to the point that he was given the sarcastic nickname, "Fat Ronaldo."

Yet, to have overcome multiple career-threatening injuries, to return to the pitch, and to lead the Brazil Team to a World Cup victory in ’02—that in itself was an incredible achievement. What allowed him to adapt his game was his transcendent talent and sublime technique.

Yang Yang couldn’t help but ask himself, ’If I lose my speed, what will I have left?’

Be prepared for danger in times of peace; fix the roof before it rains. Van Gaal’s warning was intended to make him prepare for the future.

Yang Yang had considered this before, but hearing it from Van Gaal now made everything click into place. He felt a sense of sudden clarity.

"When are you leaving?" Yang Yang asked with concern.

"Haven’t decided yet."

Yang Yang nodded. "Remember to let me know. I’ll see you off."

"Will do."