Chapter 89: Teng Sheng Sacrifices Himself for Righteousness

Johan Cruyff Arena, both teams’ starting eleven are ready in the player tunnel.

The on-site commentators are also prepared.

“Welcome to the 2015-16 Eredivisie, Matchday 31: Ajax vs Utrecht!”

“Now I must proudly introduce the starting lineups of both teams. First, the home side, Ajax!”

“Goalkeeper: Cillessen!”

“Defenders: Veltman, Van der Hoorn, Firla!”

“Midfielders: Guedioura! Bazuel! Sinkgraven, Klaasen!”

“Forwards: El Ghazi, Milik, Younes!”

“And now, Utrecht.”

“…”

“Midfielder, our miracle Tom!”

Though away, many fans still applauded Tang Ye.

This 17-year-old rookie had left a deep impression on everyone this season!

“Holy shit…”

Suddenly named by the commentator, Tang Ye felt a flutter of nervousness—and an indescribable thrill.

“Don’t be nervous!”

Ramselaar placed his hand on Tang Ye’s shoulder; the latter shook his head: “I’m not nervous, but…”

Tang Ye pointed at Ramselaar’s calf: “But why is your leg shaking?”

“There was a slight tremor earlier—you probably didn’t feel it, but I’m more sensitive.”

“…”

…

“eenjuichtoondavrelangsdevelden (Cheers echo across the pitch)”

“vooronsdierbaarroodenwit (For our beloved red-and-white army)”

“deploegdedapp'remeerschehelden (The brave heroes of the team)”

“…”

As the match began, the home fans broke into their anthem.

That’s the home advantage—Ajax’s supporters wanted to overwhelm their rivals with sheer noise.

This was a crucial match: Utrecht sat just one place above Ajax. A win here would be like earning six points in one game!

“Alright, guys, I’m adjusting the gear—good, good, almost there!”

Wang Chao arrived late, but moved fast, diving straight into commentary.

“Bazuel! Bazuel dribbling down the left!”

“Amrabat pushing forward! Today, Ten Hag has replaced De Jong with Amrabat—let’s see what Amrabat can deliver!”

“…”

“Handball! Amrabat handled the ball in the box!”

“Holy shit, that looks like a penalty!”

“Slow motion replay!”

Fans in the livestream felt their hearts stop—the broadcast cut to slow motion.

Klaasen’s shot struck Amrabat’s hand dead-on!

“Bleep!”

The referee blew his whistle and pointed to the penalty spot in Utrecht’s box.

It was a penalty!

“Ajax!”

“Ajax!”

“Ajax!”

Just seven minutes in, Ajax had earned a penalty—their fans erupted in cheers.

In contrast, the away section fell utterly silent.

Away teams already struggle with momentum; now, conceding a penalty right at kickoff?

How the hell are they supposed to play from here?!

Amrabat covered his face in shame; goalkeeper Ruit was under immense pressure.

Klaasen, who won the penalty, stepped up to take it!

Run-up…

Shot!

“goooo——aaaaa——llllll!!!”

“Holy shit! Ajax scores!”

“Utrecht falls behind!”

The clock read 8 minutes—Utrecht trailed by one goal.

Eight minutes revealed nothing about true strength—but it was clear: Ajax had far better luck today!

“Think! Focus! Concentrate!”

Ten Hag roared at the pitch, jabbing his finger at his temple.

Clearly, this match was getting to him.

Lose this critical game, and Ten Hag wouldn’t sleep a wink.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!”

Ramselaar ran over and patted Amrabat on the back. Though Amrabat’s handball was wrong, as captain, Ramselaar knew he had to step up and encourage his teammate now.

Regretting the lost penalty won’t create new chances—but lifting their spirits for a counterattack might still bring Utrecht level!

“Huff… huff…”

Tang Ye sprinted back and forth in midfield. Ajax had possession; Tang Ye and Ramselaar pressed like they were in a passing drill, hunting down their opponents.

But Ajax’s tempo was brutal—Tang Ye ran himself ragged and still couldn’t touch the ball once!

Sinkgraven played a low, long pass toward Klaasen; Tang Ye saw the opening.

“I’ve got it!”

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Tang Ye slid in and intercepted Sinkgraven’s pass mid-flight.

Klaasen rushed in to tackle; Tang Ye sprang up and passed instantly to Amrabat, who had sprinted over to support.

Amrabat drove forward with the ball!

Passed to Ramselaar!

Ramselaar fed Balazs!

This was Utrecht’s chance!

Thwack!

Balazs sent a cross into the center—Ale rushed in!

Shot!

“Damn, so close!”

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Wang Chao, in front of his screen, slammed his mechanical keyboard repeatedly.

Ale’s header flew just wide, out for a corner.

Utrecht missed their chance to equalize!

“Shit!”

Ten Hag clenched one fist.

Glanced at the fourth official’s stoppage-time board.

It was already the 25th minute of the first half!

Before the 30-minute mark, Ten Hag still had a chance to reverse course.

Pull Tang Ye off the pitch, and Utrecht would avoid the fine; Ten Hag could escape the risk of suspension!

Should he do it?

He turned to look at the substitutes on the bench.

Ayoub, in poor form.

De Jong, who could only advance but never finish.

The rest were youths barely older than Tang Ye.

If Ten Hag made a substitution, Utrecht would almost certainly lose.

After a fierce internal struggle, Ten Hag gritted his teeth—and chose not to substitute.

He chose to believe in his protégé!

30'00''

Not just Ten Hag—the fans in the stands were also staring at the fourth official’s timer.

When the time came, the fans in the stands immediately cheered and jeered, even breaking into song.

“Erik Ten Hag~”

“Erik Ten Hag~ locked up~ Erik Ten Hag~ the prison’s waiting for you~”

“Utrecht has no future—only darkness awaits Ten Hag~”

“wow~”

“erik! tenhag!”

“erik! tenhag!”

The home team fans continued taunting; the camera cut to Ten Hag standing in front of the substitutes’ bench.

Ten Hag heard the home fans singing “The March of Erik Ten Hag’s Imprisonment.” His mouth was shut, his face pale with fury.

【Not making a single substitution?】

【Insane, I’ll never criticize Ten Hag again—he’s really sacrificed so much for the team.】

【What’s the Dutch police saying? Are they really going to take Ten Hag away for “education”?】

【I think they won’t, but Utrecht will probably face even heavier fines.】

【Tang the King, push on! Your Master has already made the sacrifice behind you!】

【Head coach in jail? Full water!】

【Damn, Ajax is this strong? What’s the point of playing? Just hand them the top spot.】

【Tang the King hasn’t even started yet—this isn’t the right moment. Wait a bit longer, there’s a reason.】

Thirty minutes passed without a single substitution from Utrecht; the home team’s coaching staff cast admiring glances at Ten Hag.

Tang Ye, rarely feeling nervous, now felt tension tighten in his chest.

Tang Ye knew his actions would cost the team a fine—that was the source of his pressure. He needed to deliver a performance worthy of the penalty!

The 35th minute of the first half arrived; Ajax still controlled possession.

“Go there!”

Ramselaar pointed at Sinkgraven; Tang Ye sprinted over immediately.

Though Utrecht wasn’t a team that relied on possession, Ajax’s control today was absurdly high.

Tang Ye had barely touched the ball at all!

“I’ll take it! I’ll take it!”

Tang Ye ran toward Sinkgraven, who kept scanning left and right. Tang Ye guessed a possible passing option and cut diagonally toward the center.

Sinkgraven passed the ball—Tang Ye guessed right!

“Hurry! Hurry!”

Ajax players urged him on; Bazoer sprinted over and intercepted the ball before Ale could reach it.

Pass to Clasen!

At that moment, Ramselaar appeared out of nowhere and stuck out his foot to block Bazoer’s low pass.

This was an opportunity!

Tang Ye immediately repositioned, sprinting behind Sinkgraven.

Thwack!

Ramselaar played a through ball; Tang Ye extended his right foot and cleanly controlled it.

Perfect! “Tang the King is about to perform!”

“Dribble forward—check your teammates first. Ale, who just pressed back, is now dropping wide right; the right flank is Jostens and Barazite.”

“Barazite is cutting inside!”

“Oh… Tang Ye’s been taken down!”

On camera, Bazoer charged from the left into the center and executed a sliding tackle that dispossessed Tang Ye.

The director showed a slow-motion replay: Bazoer’s studs landed squarely on Tang Ye’s calf.

“Damn, Bazoer! What the hell are you doing?!”

“Bazoer just took out Tang Ye—that’s a foul by Ajax!”

In Wang Chao’s livestream, a flood of “bean warriors” flooded the chat, urging the referee to show Bazoer a red card.

Bazoer’s tackle was clearly a yellow-card offense—but he took down Tang the King.

!

That deserves a red card!

Unfortunately, the referee, Pereira, couldn’t see the livestream comments; he showed Bazoer a yellow card.

yellowcard: bazoer

“Damn!”

Tang Ye rolled on the ground clutching his calf; the team doctor was already preparing to enter—when Tang Ye finally stood up.

He locked eyes with Bazoer; his expression was grim.

“Tom, you okay?”

Ramselaar rushed over and examined Tang Ye’s injured left leg.

The sock was dusty, but otherwise, no visible damage.

“Damn it!”

Tang Ye took a deep breath, shook his leg—pain still lingered, but he could tell it wasn’t a serious injury.

Play resumed; Ajax’s foul had halted Utrecht’s rare attack.

41st minute.

“Feltman!”

“Feltman plays a horizontal pass!”

“Damn, don’t do that—can’t anyone see Clasen? Clasen’s in a perfect position!”

Boom!

Clasen received Feltman’s pass and fired a low drive into the net.

Second goal—Clasen extended Ajax’s lead to 2-0!

“Damn!”

The Utrecht players on the pitch were now utterly dejected; they’d hoped to claw back the one-goal deficit before halftime.

Now they were down by two!

Damn it—if Bazoer hadn’t taken down Tang Ye on that last attack, we might already be 1-1!

“ajax!”

Boom! Boom!

“ajax!”

Boom! Boom!

The stands were filled with the home fans’ noise; Ajax, up by two goals, now controlled the match’s rhythm.

Half-time arrived; Ten Hag moved swiftly, returning to the locker room first while leaving Fan De behind in the tunnel to urge the players back.

In the locker room, Utrecht’s players sat facing four directions, all silent.

Clearly, Ajax’s two goals had left them stunned.

Ten Hag manipulated the tactical board, replaying the first-half player positions, then turned to face his team.

“You must feel it—our opponents have had luck today, leaving us on the back foot.”

“But it doesn’t matter. In raw ability, we’re nearly equal—perhaps even stronger.”

“Bart, Tang, and Sofyan!”

Ten Hag began calling names; Tang Ye, the first to be called, lifted his head.

“Our possession rate is too low. The midfield must support the forwards in pressing—especially you, Tang. The attacking midfielder must press hard, or we won’t win the ball back.”

Ten Hag singled out Tang Ye’s flaw.

Pressing requires coordination with teammates—Tang Ye always ran alone.

It’s like the circle drill: the more players inside the circle pressing, the greater the pressure on those outside passing.

“Our opponents are playing too comfortably. We need to make them suffer—do you understand? We need to pressure them!”

Gulp!

Tang Ye drank half his bottle of mineral water, then pulled out a piece of gum.

……

The second half began; the home fans’ stands maintained their first-half intensity.

But unlike the first half, Utrecht had made adjustments.

At the 55th minute, Utrecht’s possession rate began to recover—all thanks to Tang Ye coordinating with the three forwards in pressing!

Clasen controlled the ball in the center; Ale and Barazite both closed in on him.

Clasen passed to Yunes!

Thwack!

Tang Ye had slipped behind Yunes at some point; he intercepted the ball just as Yunes stretched out his foot.

“Play forward! Play it forward!”

Ten Hag shouted loudly.

Tang Ye wasn’t foolish; he knew exactly what he should do now.

A long ground pass sent the ball straight to the right baseline!

Jostens, moved to the flank, successfully controlled the ball!

Ajax played with finesse, while Utrecht favored a more open, aggressive style.

But sometimes this open style could produce unexpected results.

Jostens took the ball at the baseline and went one-on-one with Verhoeff!

Balazic moved to support!

Tang Ye followed his habit, drifting all the way from the right flank toward the edge of the penalty area.

Jostens pressed Ajax’s defense!

A backheel cross!

To Tang Ye!

“Wow?”

Tang Ye reacted quickly, glancing into the penalty area before receiving the ball.

Memorizing the positioning of both teams’ players inside the box, Tang Ye moved forward to meet Jostens’ backheel cross.

He struck the ball without controlling it.

Into the penalty area!

With the help of Fernandes’s one-touch passing module, Tang Ye’s pass was precise.

Because Tang Ye didn’t control the ball, it carried heavy spin.

This was a test for Aale!

“Goal! Aale! Beautiful!”

“Assisted by Tang Ye! Utrecht pulls one back!”

“2:1!”

“Utrecht still has a chance to win!”

After scoring, Aale didn’t celebrate immediately; he high-fived Tang Ye inside the penalty area, then ran to the goal to retrieve the ball.

The goal wasn’t over yet!

“Clap! Clap! Clap!”

The director’s camera first showed Aale, then cut to Tang Ye, who provided the assist.

Tang Ye chewed gum, his expression noticeably more relaxed than in the first half.

The stadium commentator gave his analysis.

“Yes, this is Tom’s trait—most players might choose to control the ball first before crossing, but in that situation, if Tom had done that, the opponent likely would have intercepted it.”

“He chose to cross directly, denying the opponent any chance to disrupt.”

“Utrecht still has hope!”

After scoring, Utrecht began to gain momentum; the match reached the 65th minute.

Ramselaar delivered the corner kick!

At the first point, Aale and Van der Hoorn contested!

Van der Hoorn cleared the ball out of the penalty area!

This looked like a header clearance by Ajax’s center-back, but it wasn’t that simple.

“No!?! Tang Ye, Tang Ye was just behind the second bounce!”

“Balazic reacted quickly and moved wide!”

“Tang Ye, pass...”

“Shoot directly!”

Thud!

Tang Ye’s low drive struck the left post, bounced out, and rolled back to Aale’s feet.

It was clearly a lucky shot—but perfectly timed.

Aale!

Boom!

“Goooo—aaaaa—lllllll!!!!!!”

2:2!

With the second goal, Aale finally let loose in celebration.

“Come on! Come on!”

Aale ran backward, waited for Tang Ye to approach, then wrapped his arm around Tang Ye’s shoulder.

The camera cut to the sideline—Erik Ten Hag spread his arms wide!

“Utrecht is now playing with confidence!”

“If they can hold the 2:2 scoreline, they’ll remain top of the table after this match!”

“Hmm, guys, I think Utrecht might switch to defense.”

Wang Chao had a bad feeling.

Few viewers had bet on a draw; if Ten Hag chose to defend, it would be disastrous.

At the 70th minute, Ten Hag made a substitution: De Jong replaced Amrabat, plus a defensive positional swap.

Everything else remained unchanged.

“Still four defenders!”

“Ten Hag didn’t choose to defend—he wants to win!”

“A very bold choice!”

“Saint Ten!”

PS: 21,000-word update, fifth consecutive day over 20,000 words.

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(End of Chapter)