Chapter 29: The Young Man by the Sidelines

For Long Bisheng, the start of the new semester marked a turning point—it was the time he began to learn how to blend in with others, to take the initiative in making connections. In truth, he had a pleasant personality and a gentle temper; with just a bit more openness, making friends would never be a problem.

The training and studies this semester were much the same as before, but daily life had grown much more comfortable for Long Bisheng. There was more laughter, too. Whenever he found himself laughing heartily with his roommates, he would recall his father’s words. Indeed, if he truly intended to pursue the path of a professional athlete, then in the future, it would be teammates and coaches who would stand with him—his parents, with their own responsibilities, could not always be at his side.

It was only now that Long Bisheng understood the earnestness behind his father’s insistence that he learn to take the initiative in dealing with others.

How does the saying go? Life is just one problem after another. Having resolved his initial difficulty with communication, a new worry soon appeared for Long Bisheng.

As the second semester drew to a close and summer approached, he began to sense that something was amiss.

The daily training was monotonous, the coaches seemed indifferent, and almost a year had passed since Long Bisheng clearly remembered the chubby principal claiming that every year, professional clubs would visit the school to scout for players. Yet, not only had no professional teams appeared, there hadn’t even been a glimpse of an amateur one.

More troubling still, Long Bisheng realized he hadn’t learned much at all over the past year. He had certainly undergone plenty of physical training, but the methods were crude and simplistic. He didn’t know exactly how a proper football academy conducted its regimen, but he could recall quite clearly the variety of assessments when he tried out for the Bayi Team at age five—those drills were far more comprehensive than what he was encountering now. Was it possible that the training for ten-year-olds was actually less than that for five-year-olds? He might not be the brightest, but even he could recognize the difference between ten and five.

Could this be a fraudulent school? The thought sent a chill through him.

Over the past year, his family had spent more than ten thousand yuan to support his football dreams. To some, that might not be much, but for a military family like his, ten thousand was their entire savings.

If the school was a sham, then not only had he wasted a year of his life, but his family’s savings had vanished as well.

To Long Bisheng, losing a year was one thing, but squandering all his family’s savings was utterly unforgivable.

In fact, his suspicions were all too accurate. The school was indeed a scam.

The principal possessed nothing more than a license to operate a regular elementary school. The current institution had once been a village school, established during the era of universal education. With improved transportation, countless such schools nationwide had become obsolete and closed their doors. The current principal rented the campus and sports field at a minimal price and set up this so-called football school.

None of the coaches held any professional qualifications; all were simply low-paid PE teachers hired by the principal. They could manage the basics, but their training methods were suited to long-distance runners, not footballers. The drills they used were ones they had cobbled together from watching matches on TV—perhaps enough to show the children what football was, but far from the training needed for a professional player.

Had things continued in this fashion, Long Bisheng might have wasted his most formative years here, then drifted from place to place in search of a team. Perhaps, with some luck, he could have found a spot in a lower-division club and muddled through life—or perhaps not even that. At eighteen, his father might have found a way to bring him into the army, and the dream of football would be buried in his heart forever.

If not for an event that occurred before the end of the semester, that might have been exactly his fate.

Half a month before summer break, Long Bisheng noticed a young man in a plain T-shirt who stood by the pitch, watching their training. At first, he and his classmates were excited, thinking he might be a scout from a club. But when they saw the coaches exchanging confused glances—and even one coach going over to ask, only to return with the news that the man was just a passerby—they felt deflated.

Enthusiasm waned, and as the holiday approached, their training lost its vigor. In any case, there were no assessments or exams from the school; better to save their energy.

Only Long Bisheng continued to complete every drill with meticulous care—sprints, jogging, shuttle runs, dribbling, passing, shooting.

During scrimmages, he played just as hard, using his height to intercept crosses on defense and, on one occasion, moving upfield for a set piece and scoring a header.

That day, after the match ended, Long Bisheng, wiping sweat from his brow, chatted with his friends as they left the field, already making plans to see a movie together that evening.

Just outside the grounds, as their laughter rang out, a voice called from nearby, “Excuse me, could I have a word with you?”

Startled, Long Bisheng turned to see the young man who had been watching from the sidelines approaching him. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Sure,” Long Bisheng replied with a nod. Turning to his friends, he said, “You guys go ahead to the dorm, I’ll catch up in a bit.”

Since they were still on campus and the young man didn’t seem dangerous, his friends dispersed.

“Sir, is there something I can help you with?” Long Bisheng asked politely.

The young man hesitated, surprised that someone who looked at least fourteen or fifteen would call him “sir”—did he really look that old?

“It’s nothing much. I’m just curious about your school… This is a football school, right?” the young man asked.

“Yes,” Long Bisheng nodded. “We’re all students here.”

The young man mulled this over, then asked, “Is your training always like what I saw today?”

“It is,” Long Bisheng nodded again.

“And what about the tuition fees?” Noticing Long Bisheng’s wary look, the young man quickly added, “I have a relative whose kid wants to learn football, but their family isn’t well off, so I’m asking on their behalf.”