Chapter 53: The Strong Opponent Eindhoven? No, the Eredivisie Tianwangshan!

Utrecht’s team reporter Pierna: Ten Hag received immense trust from the club’s upper management, with some executives now viewing him as the hope for the team’s rise.

Royal Dutch Football Association match preview: At 1:30 p.m. Amsterdam time on November 8, the Eredivisie’s Tianwangshan, PSV Eindhoven, will host Utrecht.

Attached: 2015–16 Eredivisie league standings.

1. Utrecht, 28 points

2. PSV Eindhoven, 28 points

3. AZ Alkmaar, 25 points

4. Ajax, 24 points

5. Feyenoord, 20 points

6. Groningen, 19 points

Looking at the standings posted on the football association’s homepage, Ten Hag felt an uneasy sensation—this was why he rarely emphasized league rankings to his players.

Ten Hag was puzzled: why had Utrecht, who lost their first two matches of the season, suddenly accumulated so many points?

When did they earn these points?

Didn’t Utrecht win far fewer games than this?

When he checked the match records, he confirmed: Utrecht had indeed earned this many points!

Lying alone in bed, Ten Hag stared at the ceiling, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

In his first season at Utrecht, Ten Hag led the team to 28 points after Matchday 11, topping the league on goal difference over Eindhoven.

And he had capitalized on Utrecht’s momentum to nurture Tang Ye, a teenage prodigy!

Damn, why am I this strong!

…

November 5: Three days before Utrecht’s away match against Eindhoven, Ten Hag carved out time from his hectic training schedule to have the players undergo medical examinations.

The exams covered many items, but only two particularly caught Tang Ye’s attention.

Height: 1.77m

Weight: 66.5kg

“Holy shit, I actually grew taller.”

Tang Ye was pleased; nearly four months had passed since his last physical.

Growing 3cm in four months was already quite satisfying to Tang Ye.

“You’re still short.”

Amrabat stepped forward, gesturing with his hands.

The Moroccan was a full half-head taller than Tang Ye.

“Why the rush? I’ll still grow.”

Tang Ye said. Amrabat shrugged: “I’ll grow too—I’ve been dreaming every night that I’m getting taller. I think my limit is 1.86m, maybe even 1.87m!”

“How tall were you last time?”

Tang Ye suddenly asked.

“1.82m.”

“And this time?”

“...1.82m?”

“Where did you grow?”

Tang Ye mocked Amrabat: “When I met you a year ago, you were already this height—and you haven’t changed!”

“Come on, it’s just a matter of time—I can still grow, and I’ll definitely be taller than you, believe me!”

Amrabat fired back. Ten Hag, hearing the commotion, walked over: “You two midfielders don’t need height. You planning to play defense or striker?”

“I need to compete.”

Tang Ye explained: “Greater height means more weight, which means stronger physicality—I can then intercept opponents’ attacks and pass to my teammates.”

As he spoke, Tang Ye demonstrated with gestures.

“Okay okay, impressive, very impressive!”

Ten Hag clapped: “I know your physical strength is great—so can you tell me why you skipped out of training halfway last time?”

“...”

“I went to the bathroom.”

Tang Ye rubbed his nose: “When I came back, everyone had finished training, so I just went straight to the cafeteria.”

“Sofyan can vouch for me!”

Tang Ye pulled Amrabat forward, pitting bald head against bald head.

“Yes, I can vouch,”

Amrabat pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Tang Ye: “He went straight back to the dorm to play games.”

“Wait!”

Tang Ye suddenly realized he was in trouble and shoved Amrabat aside. The latter shrugged helplessly: “If you admit you’ll never be taller than me, I might actually help you out.”

“Shit!”

Looking at Ten Hag and Amrabat, Tang Ye took a step back.

Bald heads are friends.

These two bald heads are both bad people!

“Today you must make up the time you missed in training—double the amount.”

Ten Hag said, then walked off.

“Oh!”

Suddenly remembering something, Ten Hag stopped: “You’ll start on the 8th. Make up the training time after the match—don’t overexert yourself before the game. Eindhoven is tough.”

Hearing this, Amrabat stared in shock at Tang Ye beside him. Tang Ye pointed at his mouth: “Ah, so I’m starting next game?”

“Isn’t my meaning clear enough?”

Ten Hag stared blankly at Tang Ye—then his disbelief deepened when Tang Ye added: “Eindhoven is too strong. If I start, won’t we lose?”

“I told you to start—you start. Don’t argue with me. If you keep arguing, I’ll make you sit on the bench...”

Mid-sentence, Ten Hag caught himself and quickly corrected: “I’ll make you eat in the reserve team’s cafeteria!”

“Sorry, sorry, my bad!”

Tang Ye apologized repeatedly.

Actually, Ten Hag wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d imagined.

He’d almost thought Ten Hag was going to bench him!

…

Matchday!

Philips Stadion!

Today marked a clash between the Eredivisie defending champions and the rising dark horse. Nearly 40,000 seats at Philips Stadion were filled.

Four hours before kickoff, Dutch and European football journalists had already surrounded the press room.

Click!

Click-click-click!

Ten Hag walked in calmly, faced the reporters below, picked up the microphone, and blew into it twice.

“Eric, what do you have to say about winning October’s Coach of the Month?”

“I know—but we don’t have much time. Let’s focus on today’s match. Don’t you agree?”

Ten Hag did not rush to address the fact that he would receive the monthly coach award after the match.

Not now.

He had to wait until after the match—only then, based on the score, would he know how to speak.

“Alright, today you face PSV Eindhoven away. They are last season’s league champions and the strongest team you’ve encountered this season.”

Ten Hag nodded, signaling the reporter to continue.

“Before the match, fans and pundits have said this is a mismatch—Eindhoven’s total market value is nearly ten times yours. Facing such a strong opponent...”

“No, reporter, you must correct that statement.”

Ten Hag interrupted: “Strong opponent Eindhoven? Yes, I admit Eindhoven is strong. I believe Eindhoven also sees us as a strong opponent.”

“This isn’t a mismatch between a weak team and a strong one. This is a match between first and second in the league.”

Ten Hag looked down at the reporters in the front row: “There’s another name for this kind of match...”

“The Eredivisie Tianwangshan!”

…

(End of Chapter)