Unconventional Center

Chapter 3: A Goal to Talk About for a Lifetime

“An unbelievable goal! An incredible move!” the live commentator’s voice boomed, “Chu from China tapped the ball into Sevilla’s net with a move straight out of kung fu—this is the best goal of this La Liga round! Absolutely the best goal! The Chinese kid has repaid Happer’s trust with a dream goal. It’s a great start; maybe we should give him a little more time.” In the CCTV studio, Duan Xiang and Xu Songming were momentarily stunned before they could react. They weren’t exactly speechless, but they were undeniably stunned. “Chu Yang scored against Sevilla with an unconventional move! It was a goal brimming with flair and imagination!” Duan Xiang said rapidly. “I can’t find the right words to describe a goal like this—it’s the most spectacular goal I’ve seen this season, hands down.” “Chu Yang’s shot was indeed magnificent, but I think his anticipation and the way he shook off his marker were the true highlights of this goal,” Xu Songming said, equally excited. “Still as a maiden, swift as a hare; silent until he strikes, then stunning the world.” “Chu Yang has made history. This is the first goal ever scored by a player from China in La Liga, and it will go down in history.” Duan Xiang and Xu Songming’s commentary echoed through thousands of households on TV, while the internet was equally abuzz with excitement over Chu Yang’s goal. The discussion forum on Xinlang Live was eerily quiet for over ten seconds before suddenly exploding with activity. “Aaaah! I’m going crazy! How did he even pull that off?” “Replay! Hurry up and replay it!” “Another case where skill and luck are inversely proportional.” “The guy above is spot on—it was just a fluke. Even if he tried it a hundred times, he might not pull it off.” “I’ve gone from hater to fan—no explanation needed.” “Someone save me—my husband’s gone crazy. Will the neighbors call the police?” “As a single person, I’m jealous of the person above—and I’ve already called 110, 119, and 120 for you guys.” Meanwhile, on a well-known domestic soccer forum, the comments section of the live-stream thread was also exploding. “Here we go again with the ‘one goal, one year of controversy’ series.” “A year? This goal could be hyped for a lifetime, for crying out loud.” “Lucky break, but it doesn’t do a damn thing—one goal doesn’t change the fact that Chu Yang is a bust.” “Shocking! Men watch in silence, women watch and cry! Keep the thread going below.” “Shocking! A goal 99. 99% of people have never seen! Keep it going below.” “Shocking! A man actually did something like this in broad daylight! Keep it going below.” “Shocking my ass! One goal in twelve games—what’s there to hype about?” At the stadium. A piercing chorus of boos rang out—the angry cries of the visiting team’s fans; scattered applause followed, growing louder and more frequent—the cheers of the home crowd. Chu Yang walked toward the sideline. He didn’t drop to his knees and shout wildly, nor did he kiss the team crest; instead, he spread his arms wide… “What kind of celebration is that? A dance? An Eastern dance?” “Bullshit dance! This is kung fu! China's kung fu!” “I know, I know—it’s Da Ji! A really powerful form of kung fu from China.” “It’s Tai Chi—I saw it at the opening ceremony of the Tianjing Olympics.” “It’s so slow—is that really kung fu? But it does look pretty cool.” The live audience was merely curious, but across the ocean in the Red Nation, all hell broke loose. “Chu Yang started performing the familiar Tai Chi moves on the sidelines—it’s the first time our traditional culture has been introduced to the world on the field of a top-tier international league,” Duan Xiang nearly slammed his fist on the table. “Chu Yang is emphasizing his Chinese identity. Maybe he wants to tell them that Chinese people can play soccer, too—and that we can play it well!” Online discussions about the goal came to a sudden halt. “Damn, practicing Tai Chi on the field—why do I feel a twinge of awkwardness?” “Hah! The guy above must’ve been on his knees too long to stand up now, huh? Why weren’t you embarrassed when the Brazilians were doing the Samba? Why weren’t you embarrassed when the Spaniards were doing the flamenco?” “Just for this goal and this celebration, I take back all the insults I’ve hurled at Chu Yang.” “Me too, me too.” “What a show-off. He gets carried away the moment he succeeds—he’s brought total shame on the Chinese people.” “We’re trailing on the scoreboard, and he still has the nerve to celebrate—with such a ridiculous move at that. You’d have to be pretty brain-dead to act like that, wouldn’t you?” “As someone who practices martial arts, I’d say Chu Yang’s moves are textbook—not just flashy posturing.” “Give me a break. Tai Chi has already been completely crushed by Sanda—and you’re still bragging about it.” “Who says Tai Chi isn’t as good as Sanda? That’s because true masters…” The conversation has completely derailed. Chu Yang just casually went through two fist forms and did a few moves before walking back to the court; a few teammates hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward. There were no passionate hugs or cheers; a casual round of clapping and fist bumps served as their celebration. “Hey, Chu,” said Rodríguez, the captain of Deportivo La Coruña, “Good job.” “Thanks, you passed really well too,” Chu Yang smiled. “It would’ve been even better if you’d passed a few more times.” Rodríguez shrugged. “No problem—as long as you can catch them.” After all, Chu Yang had once made a name for himself at the World Youth Championship through sheer talent. Although that success was partly due to reaching his peak earlier than most, it certainly didn’t mean he was incapable of catching a pass in La Liga. It was simply that, due to the team’s style of play and issues like skin color, many of his teammates didn’t mesh well with him, and on the field, few would ever voluntarily pass the ball to him. Chu Yang wasn’t the kind of superstar who could single-handedly break through an entire defense or run his own system. It’s easy to imagine just how miserable his time at Laco was. Rodríguez, being right in the thick of it, saw this clearly, but he simply didn’t see the need to lend a hand, while the others were probably just envious of Chu Yang’s “good luck.” They’d occasionally pull off one or two of those miraculous goals during training, but in actual matches, no one could ever pull them off. The game continued. “Come on, guys, stay focused,” Rodríguez said, clapping his hands as he walked back. “We’ve got ten minutes left—let’s try to score one more!” "Go for it!" The others echoed the call, and finally the team began to look more like a top La Liga side. The Sevilla players, who had been relaxing, began to play more cautiously—a one-goal lead is never a sure thing. On the sidelines, Deportivo La Coruña’s head coach, Happer, paced restlessly back and forth a couple of steps before looking up at the big screen above the field, where a replay of Chu Yang’s goal was playing. “That was a spectacular goal, wasn’t it?” the assistant coach said with a smile. “It was a great goal,” Happer said with a wry smile, “but unfortunately, no matter how great it is, it’s still only worth one point.” What’s even more unfortunate is that the goal was scored by a player who had already been written off. He didn’t say it out loud, but the assistant coach understood exactly what he meant. It was the seventeenth round of the league; after this match, La Liga would enter its winter break, followed by the winter transfer window—and Chu Yang was no longer part of the club’s future plans.