Chapter 81: Tang Ye, Aerial Slash! (20k update, seeking monthly tickets!)

The score is now 2:1, with home side Utrecht leading by one goal.

Facing the deficit, Feyenoord reacted swiftly, shifting from their original 4-3-3 formation to a 3-3-4, with Vikinovich pushing straight up front to pose as a striker.

Say what you will, Feyenoord's maneuver was indeed brilliantly executed.

In the 75th minute, Vikinovich assisted Vilena, who completed a long-range shot.

Feyenoord equalized!

Damn it!

"Mark your man!"

Goalkeeper Ruiter shouted furiously at Rieuwe: "That number 21 charged forward; why did you just stand there instead of rushing up to block him!?"

"Alright, alright, stop arguing!"

The two were quarreling quite fiercely, so Ale, the on-field captain, quickly stepped in and, together with Lechet, pulled the two brawlers apart.

It's now 2:2, the most critical moment!

Pah!

With time running short, Tang Ye spat out the gum he had been chewing and swapped it for a fresh piece.

Taking a deep inhale of the minty aroma, he instantly felt much more alert.

Play resumes!

"This match is proving more grueling than imagined!"

"Utrecht's attacks remain as unpredictable as ever, yet against such Utrecht, the Feyenoord players have remained remarkably calm!"

"Hell, why are you all so calm!"

"Only fifteen minutes left; any predictions?"

"De Jong, De Jong receives the pass from Van der Mareel and pushes forward!"

"Amrabat is watching from the wing; De Jong could consider passing."

"I'll do it myself!"

"..."

Tang Ye moved gradually across the pitch.

Barring any surprises, his running distance so far should already be around 7 kilometers.

Seven kilometers isn't overly extravagant, but for Tang Ye, it's actually quite respectable.

Strangely enough, Tang Ye currently felt none of that heavy, fatigued sensation in his thighs that he had experienced before.

He remembered what Ten Hag had said.

"Extra training will make you stronger!"

All this was the fruit of that extra training!

"I've got it, I've got it!"

Tang Ye slowly jogged toward the left flank.

Supporting Amrabat, then looking for De Jong.

Where was De Jong...

There!

Spotting De Jong's position, Tang Ye delivered a low, driven pass.

Vilena still tried to stretch out his leg to intercept the ball.

But was Tang Tang Qiuwang's pass so easy to intercept?

De Jong controlled the ball!

A feint to deceive, then a turn!

He struck it directly!

Boom!

De Jong's long-range shot flew into the stands.

A bit of a pity!

Ten Hag shook his head.

Although De Jong's choice was somewhat rash, Utrecht had indeed built up momentum after the 80th minute.

A draw against Feyenoord was a result Ten Hag could accept, but today's match was special; if they could win, it would be best to secure the victory.

Because this concerned the selection for Coach of the Month for February!

Taking a deep breath, Ten Hag clenched both hands, hidden in his down jacket pockets, into tight fists.

He was only one step away from the Monthly Best Coach award.

Could God give him a push!

Unfortunately, it seemed God did not answer Ten Hag's plea.

As the match reached the 90th minute, the fourth official indicated three minutes of added time.

The score remained 2:2!

"Can Utrecht seize this opportunity!"

"De Jong's pass is precise, finding Ale; Ale runs toward the left baseline!"

"Tang Ye is following behind—hmm? Why is Tang Ye trailing Ale?"

Wang Chao didn't understand Tang Ye's maneuver, and neither did Ten Hag.

"Get back!"

Ten Hag roared toward the pitch.

That fellow Tang Ye, who has no sense of discipline.

Why would an attacking midfielder follow the striker all the way to the byline?

What happens when the defense in the middle is left wide open!

The camera cuts to Utrecht's front field; Ale passes the ball back with his heel to Josten on the right.

It wasn't a great pass; Josten and Bertens both kicked the ball almost simultaneously, sending it straight up into the air from the spot.

Oh?

Tang Ye's eyes lit up; he suddenly darted between Ale and Bertens, charging straight into the penalty area.

Bertens was in a blind spot; he had no idea Tang Ye had suddenly run in.

But De Jong, standing behind, could see Tang Ye!

Slap!

A header flicked the ball out, sending it flying toward Tang Ye.

"De Jong's headed layoff!"

"Damn, it's a high ball; Tang Tang Qiuwang can't handle this kind of shot!"

"Tang Ye's ball control isn't that great; can he try to stop the ball..."

"He struck it directly!"

In the camera frame, Tang Ye planted his left foot, leaning his entire body 45 degrees to the left.

Then he swung his right leg out!

Striking the ball with the outside of his instep, the driven ball smashed onto the grass just before the six-yard box, rebounded, and flew into the dead corner at the bottom right of the goal.

"Holy crap, what was that!"

"Can someone tell me what that was!"

"A volley strike!"

"Tang Ye completed a volley strike with De Jong's assist!"

【Awesome?】

【No way, Tang Ye knows how to do this?】

【That's a worldie; sure, it lacked power, but that angle was simply invincible.】

【Holy hell, is his imagination this rich?】

【When I saw De Jong's header, I thought Mengge was going to cross, but he volleyed it directly instead.】

【Master Tang, I thought you were an attacking midfielder???】

"Clap, clap!"

Ten Hag withdrew the hand he had just flung out pointing at Tang Ye and started clapping instead.

God had not answered his plea.

But Tang Ye had answered!

This damned fate!

Ten Hag's Manager of the Month award for February was already secured!

"Wuhu!!!"

"Hahaha!"

Tang Ye and De Jong, shoulder to shoulder, ran toward the corner flag.

This last-minute winner earned him 10 Counterattack Points, but that was secondary.

What Tang Ye loved was this feeling—the sensation of killing the match with a worldie in the final moments.

It felt damn good!

"Beep, beep-beep!!!"

The match ended; thanks to Tang Ye's volley strike winner in the 91st minute, Lei Zhi Cheng Gong successfully defeated Feyenoord.

"This is yours."

Tang Ye took the MVP trophy from the presenter, then returned to the locker room with his trophy.

Bang!

Tang Ye kicked open the wooden door of the locker room, where his teammates awaited him.

"The trophy, another trophy!"

Ale and Amrabat vaulted over the treatment table in the middle and quickly ran to Tang Ye.

Amrabat took the trophy from Tang Ye's hands and examined it closely: "Damn, this thing is actually quite heavy. Tang, how many MVPs have you won this month?"

Eh!

Tang Ye's expression froze.

How many trophies had he won this month again?

"Apart from today's match, have I won any others this month?"

Tang Ye asked a question that left his locker-room teammates jaw-dropped.

"Damn it, Tang, you don't even know how many MVPs you've won?"

Jansen held his head in both hands: "Um... if I remember correctly, it should be three? Something like that, right?"

"Holy crap, three?"

Tang Ye spat his chewing gum precisely into the trash bin: "Am I really that awesome?"

"Awesome my ass!"

Ten Hag entered from outside: "Tang, do you remember what I told you? Don't put all your focus on these individual honors."

For a young player like Tang Ye, who is only 16, Ten Hag has his own specialized methods of education.

"Individual honors are all secondary."

Ten Hag placed his hand on Tang Ye's shoulder and advised him earnestly, "Best Player, Best Coach—these trophies are all secondary. What you need to value is collective honor, collective honor, do you understand?"

"I previously won the Best Coach trophy, but did I say anything? I said nothing at all."

Ten Hag's words made Tang Ye bow his head in guilt.

"Alright, come out with me first; there's an interview waiting outside."

"An interview?"

Tang Ye pointed at the MVP trophy in his hand: "I already gave an interview when I received the trophy just now."

"This is different; just come with me!"

Ten Hag led Tang Ye back to the stadium's press room, where the onslaught of camera flashes nearly blinded Tang Ye.

There was no helping it; Utrecht generated massive traffic this season, so naturally, more journalists attended the press conference.

"Sitting Like, your team was very lucky to win this match; this is..."

"Lucky? No, no, no, I don't like the word 'lucky'."

Ten Hag cut off the journalist: "Luck is not a good thing for coaches or for players. Football matches rely on strength. We killed the game in the final moments; that was our strength, not luck."

"But Tang's volley nearly hit the post."

The journalist glanced at Tang Ye, who was sitting nearby.

Tang Ye did not speak, because it was not yet his time to speak.

"But he did score; that is the fact, and we won the match."

Ten Hag shrugged indifferently; this was the nonchalance of a victor.

"Here I must mention one thing, and that is the Monthly Best Coach trophy."

Huh?

Tang Ye turned his head to look at Ten Hag beside him.

That doesn't seem right?

"Utrecht's goals relied on strength, just as my winning the Best Coach trophy relied on strength. I don't know why you journalists like to conflate strength with luck; that is very wrong."

Tang Ye rubbed his hair.

The journalist's implication was that his volley was scored by luck.

Ten Hag was speaking up for Tang Ye, telling the journalists that it was Tang Ye's strength.

But for some reason, Tang Ye always felt that what Ten Hag was saying was somewhat strange.

Why was Mr. Sitting Like using the Monthly Best Coach trophy to make this analogy?

The first journalist to stand up could get nothing out of Ten Hag, so the second journalist very wisely avoided Ten Hag.

He chose to interview Tang Ye, who posed almost no threat.

"Tang, according to our understanding, Feyenoord contacted you previously; can you tell us why you didn't agree at that time?"

Feyenoord and Utrecht occupied completely different ecological positions within the Eredivisie.

Moreover, Feyenoord had offered Tang Ye a salary three times that of Utrecht at the time, so Tang Ye's refusal was indeed quite baffling.

"Oh, you mean that."

Tang Ye bit his fingernails, carefully recalling the situation at the time: "Uh, they were indeed very nice; Mr. Giovanni even treated me to a meal at a Chinese restaurant, but I really didn't want to go there."

"Was it due to club restrictions? But they were willing to pay your release clause."

"Ah, no, no, that has nothing to do with the release clause; the release clause doesn't play any role. If I wanted to leave, I would have paid the release clause myself, but I simply didn't want to leave..."

Tang Ye said seriously, while the journalists below frowned.

Paying the release clause himself? What kind of statement was that?

The journalists found Tang Ye a bit incomprehensible.

But thinking about it carefully...

Tang Ye was Ten Hag's disciple, and since he was Ten Hag's disciple...

Then it made sense!

Overseas Weekly Report—Utrecht 3:2 Feyenoord, Guangdong youngster Tang Ye scores a volley winner.

Utrecht Evening News Front Page Headline—in trouble? The kick-off time for Utrecht's match against Saints FC in the KNVB Cup semi-final is 9:45.

According to Dutch law, Tang cannot continue working after 10 PM at night, which means that if Utrecht complies with the law, he will have at most 15 minutes of playing time.

The recent schedule has been quite dense; they played Feyenoord on the 28th, and on March 2nd they must play Saints FC.

That is the KNVB Cup semi-final, a very important match.

Logically speaking, Tang Ye should be quite excited to participate in the semi-final, but Tang Ye was not excited; he even felt somewhat uncomfortable.

Because he might only have 15 minutes of playing time.

Thump thump!

After finishing lunch at noon, Tang Ye knocked on Ten Hag's door.

"Mr. Sitting Like, can I be included in the squad list for the semi-final?"

This was Tang Ye's first season joining the first team, and he hadn't played any proper knockout matches in the Netherlands yet.

If one were to say that Tang Ye didn't want to participate in the semi-final the day after tomorrow, that would definitely be a lie!

"Yes, of course."

Ten Hag simply organized the documents on the desk and stacked them together: "You will not only play, but you will be in the starting lineup. Hard-working players get rewarded; you haven't been late for training once in the past week, so you deserve to start!"

"So I'm coming off directly at the 15-minute mark?"

"Coming off? No!"

Ten Hag shook his head: "You will play as a starter for at least 45 minutes; the club has already prepared to pay the fine."

Upon learning that Tang Ye would be restricted by the Minor Protection Law, the club's finance department specifically opened a budget line to cover the fines.

"Uh... alright."

Tang Ye nodded, exchanged a greeting with Ten Hag, and then left.

On the stairs, Tang Ye encountered the club's owner, Verhoeff.

Verhoeff was also coming to find Ten Hag, and he was concerned about the same issue as Tang Ye.

"Sitting Like, if Tang hasn't come off the pitch after 10 PM, we will be fined."

Verhoeff spoke slowly: "Tens of thousands of euros per instance—we can afford that, yes, but you must know the fine amount increases; later on, it could even reach 100,000 euros!"

Verhoeff stared into Ten Hag's eyes: "So must Tang play? Can't you remove him from the match squad in those restricted games?"

A fine of tens of thousands of euros isn't much to some, but it's certainly not little either.

One match's fine equals half the salary of Utrecht's squad.

Verhoeff's heart ached!

Utrecht is not Manchester United or Real Madrid; Utrecht does not have that much money!

"This... hmm."

Ten Hag's expression was somewhat difficult: "Mr. Paul, I'm afraid that won't work."

"Alright, so Tang is our core player, is that it?"

"Core player? No, he is not."

"If he's not a core player, then can't you remove him from the match list?"

"Mr. Paul, I'm afraid that won't work."

Uh...

Verhoeff covered his forehead with his hand.

He was somewhat speechless.

KNVB Cup Semi-final: Utrecht vs. Saints FC.

Saints FC is a football team from the Hoofdklasse, a full three tiers below the Eredivisie.

The opponent isn't strong, but since it is after all a semi-final, Utrecht's attitude remains relatively serious.

At the 15th minute of the match, the home fans' gazes turned to Ten Hag standing before the substitutes' bench.

Ten Hag remained unmoved.

"OK, Saint Ten ignores the law once again!"

"Utrecht is arrogant; let's see if Tang Ye can deliver value worth the fine in this match!"

"Go Tang Tang Qiuwang!!!"

At the 24th minute of the match, Haller scored with a header, giving home-side Utrecht the opening goal.

Then came the 37th minute!

"Tang Ye! Not fast in speed, but excellent in rhythm!"

"Passes to Klaiber making a run down the wing!"

"Perfect! A very clever pass from Tang Tang Qiuwang!"

"Klaiber! Long-range shot!"

"Goal!"

"..."

"Ramelaar, look at De Jong beside you!"

"Pass or not! Didn't pass! Ramelaar is playing a bit selfishly, dribbling himself!"

"Foul! A foul by the away team! A set piece for Utrecht!"

"Give it to Meng Ge! Let my Meng Ge take it!"

"Tang Ye! Sends it into the penalty area!"

"Goal!!!"

"3-0! Utrecht leads by three goals!"

【Not bad, not bad; Utrecht's fine is truly worth it—Meng Ge already has two assists.】

【Damn, I didn't bet because the odds were too low; if I'd known, I would've placed a bet—even 10,000 would've earned over 1,000...】

【Wait, how did such a trash team as Saints FC even reach the semi-finals?】

【Saints FC trash? No, it's Utrecht that's too strong!】

【Utrecht too strong? No, it's my Tang Tang Qiuwang who's too strong!】

"Bijansdoeteenbalprecies"

"Wateenbalmoetdoen"

"Wehebbengoedespelers"

"..."

Leading by three goals at halftime, the home fans were extremely happy.

Although they were ahead, Ten Hag was in no hurry to substitute Tang Ye off the field.

Utrecht had hired a lawyer to calculate specifically: for today's match, the fine required for Tang Ye playing 45 minutes and for playing 55 minutes was the same.

In that case, let's just kick until the 55th minute first!

The physical attributes of the Houten team players weren't particularly strong; even Tang Ye could handle them.

Seeing the opposing defensive midfielder showing off right in front of him, Tang Ye charged straight out.

"I got it, I got it!"

He launched a flying tackle; Tang Ye lay on the ground, glanced up, then flicked his leg to send the ball into the penalty area where Allé received it, turned, and smashed a violent shot into the net to score.

This was Allé's brace!

And simultaneously, it was Tang Ye's hat-trick!

An assist hat-trick!

【You have obtained 5 Counterattack Points】

【Assist hat-trick achieved; bonus reward: 20 Counterattack Points】

【First-ever assist hat-trick; bonus reward: 20 Counterattack Points】

So satisfying!

Today's unsanctioned match cost Tang Ye's club tens of thousands of euros.

It impoverished the club, but enriched himself!

The extra 40 Counterattack Points from the assist hat-trick made Tang Ye somewhat excited, so excited that he now wanted to see what reward an assist four-goal haul would yield.

Unfortunately, after the dead ball, Ten Hag began making substitutions.

It was now the 53rd minute; if Tang Ye played two more minutes, Utrecht would have to pay an additional 8,500 euros in fines!

"Tom!"

Boom! Boom!

"Tom!"

Boom! Boom!

The home fans applauded Tang Ye as he jogged off the field.

The opponent in this match was very weak; Tang Ye had actually wanted to farm more Counterattack Points.

Alas, he was bound by restrictions.

There was no helping it!

【At 37 years old, you are playing for an Eredivisie team; restricted by the Dutch Middle-Aged Protection Law, you cannot play full matches in certain games】

【System Middle-Aged Protection Law triggered; selecting your compensation reward...】

【Middle-aged players often encounter issues where reaction speed cannot keep up; as compensation, you have obtained: the reaction speed of an 18-year-old!】

Reaction speed of an 18-year-old?

Walking from the sideline toward the substitute bench, Tang Ye's expression froze in disbelief.

Wait, the reaction speed of an 18-year-old?

He was currently 16 years old, and his reaction speed was already at a 16-year-old level.

Yet Tang Ye had received the reaction speed of an 18-year-old from the system's reward.

The reaction speed of a 16-year-old versus the reaction speed of an 18-year-old...

Damn it!

Tang Ye now faced a question.

Did this f***ing thing make him stronger or weaker?

(End of Chapter)