Chapter Sixty-Nine: Ding Yu’s Considerations

“Our tactics for the next match are both flanks advancing together—Wu alone in midfield focusing on defense, Hu Gantang assisting defensively and distributing through the center. Attacks will launch from the wings; we’ll use Zhou Wei and Zhang Yi’s breakthroughs and crosses to create opportunities. Long Bisheng, your job is to win the first ball during attacks—whether you head it at goal yourself or redirect it for a teammate making a late run, the choice is yours. In counterattacks, you stay furthest forward, use your physicality to shield the ball and make space for others. When we win set pieces in the attacking third, the first target is Long Bisheng, the second is Li Jie with the assist…”

Ding Yu continued speaking at length, but Long Bisheng’s mind was already a blank. Apart from subconsciously rubbing his arm—where Wu Bufan had pinched him—his head echoed with only one thought: “I’m the core, I’m the core, I’m the core, I’m the core…”

If someone had used a mind-reading app on him at that moment, the screen would have been instantly flooded with this one phrase, crashing the phone immediately (see Zhang Xiaohua’s “The First Chaos in History” for details).

Not until Ding Yu finished explaining the tactics did Long Bisheng come to his senses, still in a daze.

“All right, that’s it for tactics. For the third match, we’ll play as discussed. Meeting dismissed—rest well, everyone.”

As soon as Ding Yu finished, the players stood and began leaving the room. Only when Wu Bufan gave him a tug did Long Bisheng snap out of his stupor and follow the others out.

“Wow, Long, you’re amazing! You’re actually the third core of the team—I thought it’d be me!” Zhou Wei blurted out as soon as they exited.

After Hu Gantang and Dai Guangming were made the focus in the first two games, the sharper students had already guessed that Coach Ding Yu wasn’t too concerned about results this time, but was instead evaluating who among them could take the core role. The first two choices were uncontested—both Dai Guangming and Hu Gantang had the skill, personality, and impact to lead. But aside from Ding Yu, no one expected Long Bisheng to be the third lucky one.

In terms of ability, aside from Long Bisheng and Liu Lin, the other six in Dorm 101 were undoubtedly top of their age group. Excluding Wu Bufan and Li Jie, who by position were unlikely to be tactical cores, any of the other four could have been chosen. Most assumed the third core would be either Zhou Wei or Zhang Yi, hence Zhou Wei’s excitement.

Yet there was no trace of jealousy in Zhou Wei’s words. As a winger, his influence on the whole team was limited, and he got along well with Long Bisheng—he was genuinely happy for him.

Long Bisheng blushed. “I still feel like I’m dreaming.”

“Want me to give you another pinch?” Wu Bufan chuckled slyly. After hanging out with Zhou Wei’s crowd for so long, even the honest ones were getting crafty.

Long Bisheng hurried to one side; a second yelp was the last thing he wanted.

“Don’t worry, I’ll deliver quality crosses for you during the game,” Zhou Wei promised, patting Long Bisheng’s shoulder with a flourish.

“You’ve got what it takes to play the core,” Dai Guangming said, smiling as he approached. “Your height is your greatest advantage at our age. Don’t forget how hard you train… With confidence, you can do anything.”

“Guangming, you’re such a disgrace, being benched and still talking,” Zhou Wei lamented melodramatically.

“For the good of the team, why not come off the bench?” Dai Guangming smiled faintly.

Hu Gantang swaggered over and clapped Dai Guangming on the shoulder. “This game I’ll have protection—watch closely how I organize the attack.”

“I know you can do it,” Dai Guangming said earnestly. “I’ve always thought you remind me of Vieira.”

“Come on, I’m way better looking than him,” Hu Gantang replied.

The group bantered away as they walked off, their voices fading down the hall, leaving only the two coaches in the room.

“I thought you’d choose someone else as the core for this match,” Coach Zhao observed, glancing at Ding Yu.

“Since we’ve already qualified, why not give him a chance?” Ding Yu smiled. “This match doesn’t mean much to us—even if we lose, we’re at least second in the group. What’s the harm? Right now, striker is our last weak link. The other forwards aren’t physically outstanding. If Long Bisheng can use this official match to quickly gain experience and reach an average level, it will have inestimable positive effects both for training and for future results.”

“But if he doesn’t perform, or even does badly, aren’t you worried about his confidence being shaken again?” Coach Zhao sounded concerned. “From what we’ve seen, Guangdong might be the strongest team in the group besides us.”

“That’s possible—Guangdong is strong. But if you think about it, this is probably the most suitable match for Long Bisheng to be both a starter and the core,” Ding Yu replied confidently.

“You mean…” Coach Zhao, an experienced man, thought for a moment and understood.

Indeed, considering all factors, this was the best match for Long Bisheng’s first formal start and first time as the team’s centerpiece this year.

First, Yun Jia Tianyu had already won two matches and secured six points, guaranteeing qualification. Guangdong were held to a draw by Tianjin in the second round; even if Yun Jia Tianyu lost to Guangdong, Tianjin with one point and Henan with none could not catch up. So there was no pressure. Second, Guangdong’s youth team—nicknamed the South China Tigers—were known for their technical skill, but their players tended not to be tall and were weaker in physical duels. Long Bisheng’s strengths were height and physical play; making him the attacking focal point was just the right move.

“And another thing: Long Bisheng’s mentality isn’t as fragile as you think,” Ding Yu mused. “He does lack confidence and has a gentle temperament—that’s a flaw. But there’s another side to it: once he sets his mind on something, he keeps going, no matter how many obstacles—he’ll persist even if he bloodies himself.”

“Running into a wall and not turning back?” Coach Zhao smiled. “That doesn’t sound very clever.”

“But the ones who succeed are often these so-called fools.” Ding Yu didn’t smile. “When faced with a dead end, the clever ones give up after a few tries—but the fools keep bashing away, and sometimes break through. People often fail not because they’re not smart enough, but because they’re not foolish enough.”

Coach Zhao stopped smiling, quietly savoring Ding Yu’s words, gradually tasting their deeper meaning.

Actually, Ding Yu had left one more thought unsaid. He knew Long Bisheng’s mental journey well, as well as his family background. If Long Bisheng didn’t become a professional footballer, his fate would likely be even bleaker than that of others cut from the team. Ding Yu understood that when cornered, people often unleash greater strength than usual.

That was why Ding Yu hoped that, with only average talent, Long Bisheng might achieve something under the pressure of having no way out.

The only thing Ding Yu worried about was if, after finally making it as a professional and escaping hardship, Long Bisheng would fall like so many poor boys who, after sudden success and wealth, quickly lost their way and faded like meteors.

But that was a problem for far in the future—Ding Yu could only set it aside for now.

************************************

Since the 1970s, Guangdong football has been a force to be reckoned with in China—“North Liao, South Guang” is a well-known phrase. Rong Zhixing, Zeng Xuelin, Gu Guangming, Chi Minghua, Zhao Dayu, Mai, Xie Yuxin, Wu Qunli, and many other famous players were all pillars of the national team. In 1981, Su Yongshun’s national squad was almost entirely made up of Guangdong players, and that World Cup qualifying campaign was China’s closest approach to the tournament before 1998.

However, after the advent of the professional league, Guangdong football, following a brief period of prosperity, fell into a prolonged slump. Now, only Shenzhen remains in the top flight, struggling on. The reasons are many and need not be listed here.

One curious reason is that, as China’s earliest and strongest economic power, Guangdong’s tycoons and big companies seem unwilling to invest in football. Though Guangdong Hongda Club was the pioneer in the professional era, being the first to spend hundreds of thousands on transfer fees for national team players, when other clubs began splashing out in the market, Guangdong stopped investing.

Yet, the tiger’s might remains, and the famous South China Tigers would not fall so easily. According to Ding Yu and his colleagues, this Guangdong youth team born in 1998 still boasts several outstanding talents.