Chapter 65: Expected! (20k for first subscription!)

[Insane, it's really 1-0 now, damn, did Wang Chao actually make money off this? I can't accept it!]

[What’s going on? Wasn’t the goal scored by A Lai ?]

[What’s happening? Is the goal going to be disallowed?]

[No foul was committed, what’s going on? Why is A Lai holding his head?]

[Can you disallow it? I didn’t bet on this match!]

[Don’t let the streamer make all the money—referee, disallow the goal!]

On the live stream screen, Utrecht’s players stood frozen in place.

The goal had indeed been scored; Utrecht’s players waited for their teammate to run out and celebrate, but seconds passed and no one moved.

“Did you score?”

Balazet came over to hug A Lai , but A Lai insisted his head never touched the ball.

Own goal?

The big screen above the pitch displayed the scorer’s name.

99Tang

The goal was scored by Tang Ye?

The goal was scored by Tang Ye!

“Wowww!!”

With direction now clear, Utrecht’s players finally ran out.

Tang Ye was waiting right behind them!

What the hell?

Tang Ye stood still.

Wasn’t it a cross? Why did I score?

【At 37, you lead your team against the mighty Ajax, feign a set-piece pass to your teammate, but you’ve already prepared to shoot yourself—and you deliver the decisive goal! The spirit of a veteran burns!】

【Reward: 10 Reverse Points】

Before Tang Ye could react, Ramselaar, who had made the dummy run, grabbed him in a hug.

“Insane! You scored!”

“Damn, it’s another last-minute winner by Tang Ye!”

“What just happened?”

The broadcast replay showed Tang Ye’s topspin cross into the box; A Lai and Balazet both jumped with eyes closed, neither touching the ball, causing it to strike the ground.

Because it was a topspin ball, the rebound flew toward the goal.

Goalkeeper Cillessen’s attention was fixed on A Lai and Balazet, leaving him no reaction to the sudden rebound.

“Damn...”

Wang Chao took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his emotions.

Direct free kick goal.

So here’s the question: did the referee award a direct or indirect free kick?

If it was an indirect free kick, Tang Ye’s shot would be invalid!

The broadcast replay showed the referee’s gesture: one arm extended horizontally to the side.

It was a direct free kick!

“Goal is valid!”

“Goal is valid!”

Wang Chao’s hands were shaking: “Goal is valid, damn, Hu , Huhu , all the clowns in the stream—look, tell me, what’s the score now!”

“Tell me the score right now!”

“Where are those guys who were yelling during the first half? Come out, all of you!”

“Tell me the score!”

“1:0!”

“Tang Ye!”

“Last-minute winner!!!”

【You’re making money behind our backs like this, damn it】

【Actually, when Super Brother bet on 1:0, I wanted to join too—but last week he lost too many times betting on Australian leagues, so I didn’t trust him】

【Australian leagues? Do they even compare to Utrecht’s match?】

【Honestly, anyone playing other leagues is just Jiucai —real money comes only from the Eredivisie】

【Damn, I’m regretting it】

【Wait, betting on matches is this profitable? Any big brother who can take me under his wing?】

【Up there, check your DMs】

【Damn, another one broke】

Utrecht’s players celebrated along the left sideline.

Why celebrate along the left sideline?

Because that’s where the King of Tang stood!

“Tom!”

Thud! Thud!

“Tom!”

Thud! Thud!

“Tom!”

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

Even before the match ended, Tang Ye’s name echoed throughout the Galgenwaard Stadium.

It was the 87th minute—scoring a last-minute winner at this point means Ajax would need to be God’s own son to turn it around.

The outcome is sealed!

…

Full-time whistle. Final score: 1:0.

With a direct free kick winner, Tang Ye ended the match.

In the locker room, Ramselaar held a bottle of mineral water in one hand and gripped Tang Ye’s wrist with the other, raising Tang Ye’s right hand high.

“Tell me, who scored the final goal?”

“TOM!”

All twenty-one players shouted in unison.

“Tell me, whose last-minute winner was this?”

“TOM!!!”

“Who carried us to victory today?”

“TOMMM!!!!!!”

“Wohooo (Wuhu~)!!!”

Ramselaar poured water from the bottle repeatedly over Tang Ye’s head.

This was Tang Ye’s second time being doused—but unlike last time, he accepted it now.

He knew that in Utrecht’s locker room tradition, being doused with water was a symbol of honor.

This honor belonged to him!

The locker room celebration continued; Tang Ye pulled out his phone from his backpack: “FIFA 1v1, who’s up?!”

“I am!”

Amrabat pulled out his phone: “But I need to update first.”

“Sofyan, don’t join if you haven’t updated.”

Ramselaar shoved Amrabat aside, grabbed his phone, and marched toward Tang Ye, growling: “I don’t believe you can score a last-minute winner in the game too!”

“Hahaha!”

Tang Ye spread his arms wide and jumped onto the locker room bench: “You’ve only played this game a few days, right? I’ll beat you with one hand.”

“Wowowo!!”

“Tang’s about to crush the captain!”

“Come on, Tang—you want the captain’s spot after scoring the winner? Fine by me!”

…

In the press room, Ten Hag shook himself, then slipped both hands into his suit pockets.

He stepped into the camera’s view after finishing his preparations.

Click! Click! Click!

Click! Click! Click! Click!

He struggled to pull his hands from his pockets, sat down, then slipped them back in.

He leaned back, head raised, hands still buried in his pockets.

This was Ten Hag’s confidence.

This is the confidence of the Eredivisie’s October Best Coach!

“Eric! Eric! What do you have to say about today’s match?”

“Eric, your player scored the winner—and he’s a 16-year-old rookie!”

“Is Tang Ye the future of Utrecht?”

“The Eredivisie transfer market valuations are about to be updated—can you predict Tang’s value?”

“…”

The reporters below the stage were noisy, but Ten Hag took his hand out of his pocket and tapped the table twice—immediately, they fell silent.

“We have plenty of time—we’ll take them one by one.”

Ten Hag picked a reporter he recognized from the crowd below.

“Eric, your team was outclassed throughout the match, yet you won at the end—what did you do during the game?”

“That’s a very simple question.”

Ten Hag smiled: “Do what needs to be done. Analyze the situation and decide the next move. I knew Ajax was a strong opponent, so I never let my guard down.”

“Did you feel nervous?”

“Nervous? Maybe. But I was more focused. You know, in such situations, a head coach must stay calm—only a calm coach can help his team win.”

“Of course, I had reasons not to be nervous.”

Ten Hag spoke calmly and methodically to the reporters.

After a loss, he might avoid talking to them—but now, after a win, he was happy to stay longer in the press room.

Sometimes, if you don’t say enough, no one even realizes how great you are.

“To be honest, I expected this win before the match even started.”

Ten Hag’s words shocked the reporters below.

“Eric, are you saying you predicted your team would beat Ajax today?”

“Yes. I said before the match: second place is stronger than third place on the table.”

“!!!”

The reporters below grew flustered.

Ten Hag’s logic was completely unlike normal people’s.

Reporters feared people like him most!

Because their pre-written drafts were instantly useless!

“Can we talk about Tom? A 16-year-old who played such a brilliant match?”

Ten Hag nodded: “Of course. My stance on Tang is clear: I’ll do everything I can to help him improve.”

“I won’t say how much a coach influences a youth player—but that’s the truth.”

Ten Hag took a deep breath, his expression serious.

He didn’t know if the fans believed him, but he knew his December Best Coach award was all but secured.

…

Dongqiu Di Match Report: You still do this? Tang Ye scores a free kick winner against Ajax!

The Amsterdam Telegram — Away 0:1 Defeat to Utrecht: Ajax, for the first time in club history, conceded to a minor—breaking the 18-year barrier!

Football Development — Free kick winner at 86 minutes: Does this genius boy Zaixianshenji ?

Royal Dutch Football Association Announcement: The association has dispatched a special envoy to Shandong, China, to study the advanced youth development philosophy of LunengTaishanFootballSchool.

…

Having defeated Ajax, one of the Eredivisie’s Big Three, Ten Hag should have given the players three days off—but the Dutchman didn’t.

The reason was simple: the schedule was tight.

They played Ajax on the 13th; on the 16th, they had a Dutch Cup match against Echels from the Eerste Divisie.

Ten Hag looked down on Eerste Divisie teams, but he had no choice—it was the Dutch Cup quarterfinals on the 16th.

To Eredivisie clubs, the Dutch Cup mattered far less than the league—but it wasn’t useless.

Ten Hag’s view was: since they’d reached the quarterfinals, they should play seriously and aim for a trophy or at least a runner-up medal.

The afternoon after the Ajax match, Utrecht’s first-team players resumed training.

“Damn it, Tang! Hurry up! Three minutes have passed—you’re late again!”

Amid Ten Hag’s shouting, Tang Ye ran from the dormitory carrying his shoe bag, stopping only at the chairs placed in the center of the training ground.

No time to change properly—he changed right on the pitch.

“I don’t get you at all.”

Ten Hag frowned, sizing up Tang Ye: “I understand being late for morning training—you overslept. But why late for afternoon training?”

“Chinese people have a nap habit.”

Fan De reminded him, handing Tang Ye a bottle of mineral water and gesturing for him to wash his hands.

“Seriously? So you napped?”

Ten Hag stared into Tang Ye’s eyes; the latter nodded quickly: “Of course. Too bad—if I’d gotten up the moment the alarm went off, I wouldn’t have been late.”

“He was playing games in his dorm!”

Ramselaar, warming up nearby, jogged over to Ten Hag: “When I came out, his FIFA was still online—he played from 9 a.m. straight through to now.”

After saying that, Ramses immediately ran off.

“Damn, Bart!”

Tang Ye shouted, but all he got was Ramselaar’s retreating back.

This was betrayal!

Betrayal by the captain!

“I played with him—he didn’t nap either.”

Tang Ye dragged Ramselaar down with him.

Ten Hag spread his hands: “You’re missing the point. It’s not about napping or gaming—it’s about being late!”

“...”

Tang Ye took a deep breath.

It seemed...

...was that true?

His thinking had been derailed!

“I don’t get it—you were gaming, so you were awake. If you were that awake, why not show up early?”

Uh...

Tang Ye struggled into his high-stretch training pants: “The game had already started.”

“Couldn’t you pause the game?”

“I...”

Tang Ye wanted to say something, but held back: “How do I explain this to you... Forget it. My fault.”

Tang Ye finished changing his clothes and shoes, and jumped in place a few times.

The shoes felt comfortable; the sponsor’s kit fit well.

But something felt missing.

“Get warming up!”

Ten Hag kicked Tang Ye in the butt.

That’s it!

That’s the feeling!

After afternoon training, in Utrecht’s first-team cafeteria, Ten Hag walked over with his tray toward Tang Ye’s table.

Amrabat and Tang Ye both jumped.

The first-team cafeteria was small; seating was fixed. Yet Ten Hag, breaking routine, sat down at the biggest table.

Ale and Barazite squeezed inward, making room for Ten Hag and Ramselaar.

“Alright, everyone, focus up!”

At Ten Hag’s call, players dragged over nearby tables.

Thump, thump, thump—eight tables pushed together, turning the entire first team into one giant dining table.

“I chose to talk with you during meals because I want the conversation to feel relaxed.”

Ten Hag ate while gesturing for the players to be casual, not stiff.

Be casual!

Tang Ye picked up his Angus super beef burger and took a huge bite.

Ketchup and mayo mixed perfectly!

After chewing four or five times, Tang Ye finally noticed something odd.

Everyone at the big table was staring at him.

Including Ten Hag!

“W-what’s wrong?”

Tang Ye felt embarrassed, but, adhering to his principle of not wasting food, he finished eating it all.

"It's fine, it's fine, I just think you eat just like those sows in the pigpen back in town."

"Your fucking grandmother."

(End of Chapter)