Unconventional Center

Chapter 28: Could It Be a Fake?

January 21st, Round 24 of the Segunda División: Valencia faced 13th-ranked Leonesa. It was Chu Yang’s first start for Valencia, but the night before, his mom had convened a special meeting dedicated to his grand plan—even Comrade Old Chu, back in China, was forced to join via video call. During the meeting, everyone pulled together to discuss the close relationship between dreams, family, and lifestyle habits, ultimately reaching a strong consensus:If Comrade Little Chu really dared to keep such a dangerous creature, the other family members would break its legs, kick it out of the house, and never have anything to do with it again. So today, Chu Yang looked thoroughly glum. “Chu, what’s wrong? Did you just get dumped?” Since that extra free-kick practice session, Cayo had automatically become Chu Yang’s sidekick. “Don’t even mention it—it’s worse than a broken heart.” “What? Is it that serious? Spill the beans and cheer us all up.” Only Mo Ya could speak in such a provoking way. “My philosophy on life has clashed with my family’s,” Chu Yang said solemnly. “That really must be painful,” Mo Ya said, patting Chu Yang’s shoulder consolingly. “But, bro, the pursuit of truth is always a winding road. You’ve got to stay true to your faith, hold fast to your convictions, and stand firm in your… Heh, Chu, what’s with that look on your face?” “You idiot.” That was in Chinese. “Xavi? No, no, no—my name isn’t Xavi, I’m Cesc, buddy. It seems your family’s lack of understanding has really hurt you, but don’t worry—you’ve still got soccer, and you’ve got me, your super partner. I’ll support you.” Chu Yang：“……” Well, it seems that “Xavi” is pronounced the same way in Spain as that word in Chinese. “Chu, Cesc, Fernando!” Gresel furrowed his brow, tapped the whiteboard, and called out. The three of them quickly sat up straight. Gresel glanced at the three of them and said, “Guys, I have to remind you once again: the team we’re facing today is Leonesa. Don’t forget what they did to us in the first half of the season.” Gresel’s words brought silence to the locker room. It was now the 24th round of the league, and Valencia had lost only three of their past 23 matches—the most devastating of which was a 0–5 away defeat to Leonesa. Wins and losses are a normal part of soccer; heavy defeats are nothing new, and losing to an opponent of lesser caliber isn’t unacceptable—but just because it’s acceptable doesn’t mean they’re happy about it. Apart from Chu Yang, everyone present had been there for that match. It would be impossible to say they didn’t harbor some desire for revenge—especially Cayo, whose net had been breached five times by the opposition; he’d been itching to get his own back for quite some time. “I won’t go over the specific tactical arrangements again. I have only one request,” Gresel said, scanning the players’ faces one by one before finally fixing his gaze on Chu Yang. “Put the ball in their net.” The others turned their gaze to Chu Yang as well—he was the expert in this area. “Don’t worry, Coach,” with everyone’s gaze fixed so intently on him, Chu Yang certainly couldn’t back down. “I’ll score.” He knew his limits, though, and didn’t dare make any bold claims like, “They scored five on us last game; I’ll score at least six on them this time.” After his miraculous performances in the last two games, even the dumbest team would mark him as a key target. What worried Chu Yang most, however, was his stamina—his endurance was only 8. His experience with Deportivo La Coruña had taught him that his stamina was far from enough to last a full, intense match. For him, stamina wouldn’t be an advantage like it was when he came off the bench; instead, it would become a disadvantage. He had no choice but to seize every opportunity and try to settle the match as early as possible. Chu Yang felt a mix of anxiety and anticipation, while the Valencia fans had nothing but pure anticipation for him. If he could score consecutive hat tricks coming off the bench, what would he be capable of as a starter? The Valencia fans remained optimistic; while they didn’t expect Chu Yang to be that dominant in every game, that didn’t stop them from letting their imaginations run wild. And so, the match began amid the hopes and fantasies of the Valencia fans. But fantasies are just that—fantasies. Reality must still be faced. As expected, Leonesa marked Chu Yang tightly. Thirty minutes had passed, and not only had Chu Yang failed to score, but he had also performed terribly. He touched the ball only twice: once he barely managed a shot that was blocked by a defender, and the other time the ball was cleanly intercepted. Fortunately, thanks to the lively play of Mo Ya, Banderas, and others, Valencia at least maintained the upper hand on the field. Both Mo Ya and Banderas had two shots on goal, both of which hit the frame. In fact, Chu Yang played a part in those two shots—after all, his off-the-ball movement created plenty of space for his teammates and took some of the pressure off them. Of course, it’s impossible for the average fan to notice that. It had only been thirty minutes—it wasn’t quite time for booing or open criticism yet—but a seed of doubt had already been planted in the fans’ minds. Could it be… that Chu is a bust? This time, Xiao Luo didn’t head to the stands; instead, he sat in the VIP box, watching the game alongside several club executives, including Chen Ping and Li Jia. Li Jia had even brought her whole family—her husband and daughter were both there. “Could this really just be a flash in the pan?” Chen Ping said, frowning. “Well… to be honest, I consider myself a bit of a fan myself, and I really can’t see what Chu Yangqiang’s strengths are. His dribbling and speed are decent, but he’s at most on par with an average forward in the Segunda División. His shooting is top-notch, but without speed or ball control, he can only rely on others to set him up. You can find a forward like that on any team.” “Exactly. Look at the way he controls the ball—it’s just like the China National Team.” “You can’t say that. Maybe he’s a lucky charm. Six goals in two games—who else has that kind of luck?” “It’s not six goals in two games—it’s nine goals in three. If you can still chalk that up to luck, you guys really are only half-fans.” “Oh, so you’re a real fan, huh? Well then, tell me—what exactly makes Chu Yang so great? Didn’t he show his true colors right from the start in his first game as a starter?” “Haha, do you think all strikers have to go on a scoring spree right from the start—scoring three goals in thirty minutes?” “Hey, Old Zhang, you’re just trying to pick a fight with me, aren’t you? Even if other top strikers don’t score, they don’t just disappear off the field, do they?” “All right, stop arguing. Chu Yang really does have genuine talent. Let’s hear what Xiao Dong has to say.” Damn, that’s some refreshingly original brown-nosing. A few foreigners nearby couldn’t understand what they were saying, but seeing how excited they seemed to be in their discussion, they just kept grinning along with them. “Chu Yang has one foot in the ranks of top-tier strikers. If he can gain experience in a top-tier league for a season or two, he should become a true top-tier player, but he’s still a long way from being a superstar striker,” Xiao Luo said with a smile. “Still, even as a near-top-tier player, he’d still rank among the best in a league like the Segunda División.” He didn’t elaborate further, but that assessment was enough to silence the others. These guys were all his longtime loyalists, having fought their way up alongside him, and they had a blind trust in him. “Valencia is in a tough spot. Chu has been lost in Leonesa’s defense, but I don’t think any defender would dare to ignore him. Anyone who’s watched his last two games knows just how terrifying he is. He might disappear for eighty-nine minutes, but it only takes a few seconds for him to…Oh, a foul! Cesc is down on the ground. Thankfully, he seems okay. It’s a free kick, but unfortunately it’s a bit far from the goal—otherwise, Cesc could have tried a direct shot. Now it looks like he’ll have to pass. Let’s hope Chu can capitalize on this opportunity. Wait—Chu isn’t lurking near the goal; he’s walked over to the penalty spot. Is he discussing tactics with Cesc?” The foul occurred a full thirty-three meters from the goal, well beyond Mo Ya’s reach, so a set-piece play is a solid option. “Hey, Chu, let’s go big.”