Chapter 10: Are You a Ball-Playing Midfielder? I Think I Am

In the early hours of August 9, Beijing time, during the first round of the 2015-16 Eredivisie season, Feyenoord faced Utrecht.

A full hour before kickoff, Chinese fans had already begun camping out on the website of the Royal Dutch Football Association.

They wanted to see one person's name appear on the team sheet.

But they did not see it.

【Where's Brother Meng? I stayed up all night, and this is what you show me?】

【If Brother Meng isn't playing, I won't buy a Utrecht jersey!】

【Erik ten Hag, incompetent!】

【Let's scatter; Tang Ye isn't on the roster, so there's no point watching this match.】

【Wait, let me see what level Utrecht is at; if Utrecht is weak, Tang Ye might still get a chance to play.】

The match kicked off, once again broadcast from Wang Chao's Happy Bean livestream room.

The traffic for an Eredivisie match was more than double that of a friendly involving an Eerste Divisie team, yet today Wang Chao's stream had almost no viewers aside from his loyal Bean Warriors.

The reason was simple.

That man had not appeared on the roster!

"Damn it!"

Wang Chao felt somewhat angry; he had just spent 599 on an authentic jersey, and this was what he got in return?

Although that was true, Wang Chao noticed someone.

Amrabat, who had been promoted to the first team alongside Tang Ye!

If even he could appear in the starting lineup, then someday our Brother Meng could too!

"Let us... first take a look at this match..."

The referee blew the whistle to start the game; facing the formidable Feyenoord, ten Hag had the Utrecht players set up in a 5-3-2 formation.

Five defenders; the goal was to seek opportunities for victory through stability!

The camera cut to the away team's bench, where ten Hag was watching the situation on the pitch with a serious expression; the bald shine atop his head gave him an aura of authority beyond the ordinary.

"Beep, beep-beep—!!!"

The full-time whistle blew; playing away, Utrecht lost to Feyenoord with a score of 1-3.

"Damn, what the hell, I knew it!"

Wang Chao was furious; just over ten days ago, when ten Hag brought Tang Ye up to the first team, Wang Chao had thought this guy was a capable famous coach.

If you had put Tang Ye on the field, it wouldn't matter that we lost; Chinese fans would still support you.

But you actually dared to leave my Brother Meng at the training base without bringing him here?

Just wait to be cyber-bullied!

After the match, at the press conference, ten Hag, unhappy about losing the game, chose a method to make himself feel better when facing reporters' questions.

"Actually, we were the victors of this match."

"They (Feyenoord) played wonderfully, but our players failed to convert three excellent chances."

Looking at the reporter asking the question before him, ten Hag said seriously, "I believe the score of this match should have been 3-4, or perhaps 3-5, not 3-1; we missed too many opportunities."

Hearing ten Hag's words, the reporter nodded and posed his next question: "Before the season started, you brought a 16-year-old player from the reserve team up to the first team; this move sparked widespread discussion among fans."

"A 16-year-old joining the first team—is he a genius?"

ten Hag did not answer the reporter's question immediately; he remained silent for a moment before saying, "We nearly won this match; victory should have belonged to us."

"..."

Three days after the match, at noon, Tang Ye, having just finished morning training, carried his tray and found Zaka sitting in a corner, walking straight toward him.

"Tang!?"

Seeing Tang Ye approaching him, Zaka widened his eyes; ever since Tang Ye was dragged by ten Hag to the first team as a training partner, he could only see his friend once every two or three days.

After Tang Ye set his tray down on the table, Zaka asked questioningly, "Why are you coming here to eat?"

"I've been late too many times; Erik won't let me into the first team cafeteria anymore."

Tang Ye dipped a french fry into some ketchup and then put it into his mouth.

"Huh?"

Zaka looked as though he had heard something unbelievable: "They won't let you into the first team cafeteria? What about training?"

"Training as usual; I'll head back after I finish lunch."

As he spoke, Tang Ye picked up the pineapple burger from his tray.

"Damn, which genius invented burgers and fries? They're fucking delicious!"

"..."

Zaka had originally wanted to say that eating such things wouldn't help one grow taller, but suddenly remembered something: "Tang, can you stand up for a moment?"

"Stand up? OK."

Tang Ye placed the half-eaten burger back on his tray, then stood up as Zaka requested: "What's up, Zorc?"

Zaka also stood up, reached out to carefully measure, and finally reached a conclusion: "You really have grown taller; I guarantee it!"

"That's great!"

Tang Ye broke into a smile: "Zorc, you know, there are a few idiots in the first team who tackle me every day; once I eat more burgers and grow taller, I'll crush them to death!"

After returning to the first team following lunch, ten Hag did not immediately have the players start warming up but instead gathered everyone together.

In this Dutchman's philosophy, the afternoon was when the human brain was clearest, so ten Hag liked to use the afternoon hours to summarize the team's previous matches.

"Do you know why we lost the match?"

"Because our ball simply can't get out of the back field!"

Fan Fan Dejiahe dragged over a small tactical blackboard, Ten Hag grabbed a marker, and began scribbling furiously on the board, successfully recreating the situation from the day-before-yesterday's match with a few simple stick figures.

A Utrecht defender received the ball in the back field, and then three Feyenoord forwards charged forward together.

At times like this, Utrecht's midfielders should have dropped back to provide support, but neither Ramselaar nor Amrabat possessed the ability to receive the ball.

"If you want to attack, you at least have to get the ball from the defenders' feet to the forwards' feet before you can score!"

Ten Hag angrily tapped the tactical board: "We need to use our midfield to support the defenders, and then deliver the ball to the forwards' feet; only then can our attack develop!"

"Why is it that when the opposing forwards press forward, we can't get the ball out? Because we don't have a midfielder who can control the ball!"

"This is the reason we lost the match!"

Losing the very first match of the season had completely ignited Ten Hag's temper; not a single player gathered there dared to speak.

At this moment, someone in the crowd raised their hand, and everyone turned to look.

"Um, Mr. Sitting Like... I seem to be a ball-controlling midfielder."

???

"You are a ball-controlling midfielder?"

Ten Hag frowned: "Are you sure you are a ball-controlling midfielder?"

Come to think of it, Ten Hag still didn't know Tang Ye's specific positioning.

Could this guy, who only wandered back and forth on the pitch, actually be an expert at controlling the ball!?

Uh...

Tang Ye thought carefully for a moment.

Although he didn't fully understand what his actual job on the pitch was, he had seen his scout report, which seemed to state that he was a ball-controlling midfielder.

Thus, Tang Ye gave his response.

"I think I am."

(End of Chapter)