Super Wingstorm

In the early morning, a red Audi S4 coupe was flying down the empty A2 Motorway.

The car was going extremely fast, heading south from the north and breaking the speed limit the entire way.

Van der Vaart sat in the driver’s seat, his brow deeply furrowed. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead, yet his foot couldn’t help but press harder and harder on the gas.

He sped past De Toekomst and the Amsterdam Arena, soon reaching the interchange where the A2 and A9 motorways connected. After a moment’s hesitation, he finally turned the wheel to the right, merging onto the westbound A9 Motorway that ran through Amstelveen.

He had no idea where he was going. He just wanted to drive around aimlessly, feel the wind, sort out his jumbled thoughts, and clear the chaos from his mind.

His form hadn’t been great lately, but more important was the conflict between him and head coach Ronald Koeman.

The flashpoint had occurred not long ago, when Van der Vaart joined the Netherlands Team for a friendly match against the United States Team.

Van der Vaart’s performance this season had been consistently subpar. There were many reasons for this; for example, he was trying to transition his style of play. But he felt the more significant issue was the lack of support from head coach Ronald Koeman.

On the pitch, Ajax’s tactics made it hard for him to play to his strengths, and the head coach seemed unwilling to help. All season long, his ears had been filled with constant criticism and doubt, leaving him without a moment’s peace.

These long-suppressed emotions finally erupted while Van der Vaart was at the National Team’s training camp. Speaking with a reporter he knew, he complained about not receiving enough respect and trust. He argued that a player of his age should be protected by the head coach and receive more encouragement, not constant blame.

He felt that whenever the team lost, he was the one everyone singled out for blame, which was unfair.

Unexpectedly, his comments were published in the papers, and Ronald Koeman was furious. He quickly issued a public response to the media. On the one hand, he stated that he absolutely didn’t believe the report. On the other, he said that if Van der Vaart truly had said those things, it was completely inappropriate for the captain of Ajax.

Ronald Koeman added that regardless of whether the words were said, he hoped Van der Vaart would have a proper talk with him upon his return from the National Team. Even having a big argument, he said, would be the best way to resolve their issues—not airing them through the media, which would only blow the situation out of proportion.

But when Van der Vaart returned from the National Team, he never went to Ronald Koeman to sort things out.

Then, in last night’s match against Arsenal, he was subbed off after just over sixty minutes, which was unacceptable to Van der Vaart.

’That was such an important match. As the team’s captain, I was supposed to be out there with everyone, fighting side by side. But Ronald Koeman took me off right when the team needed me most. What was that supposed to mean?’

’It showed a severe lack of trust in me from the entire coaching staff.’

Ibrahimovic had scored two goals and provided an assist, earning him Man of the Match. The youngster Yang Yang had a goal and an assist himself, and even orchestrated the buildup to the second goal, making for a very impressive performance. Sneijder, as always, was a steady and solid presence anchoring the midfield.

The team had narrowly defeated Arsenal 3-2 at home. No doubt the players and the head coach would receive unanimous praise and recognition. But Van der Vaart, the captain who was substituted after sixty-odd minutes, was completely overlooked.

After the match last night, an irritated and agitated Van der Vaart returned home from De Toekomst, only to end up in another argument with his girlfriend, Silvia. She showed no understanding of the difficulties he was facing. Instead, she was more concerned about when he could take her to a party so she could look good in front of her friends.

But what Van der Vaart cared about most right now was his future at the club, and his career beyond that.

After their fight, Van der Vaart wasn’t sure how long he’d slept. He just got in his car and drove off at the crack of dawn to clear his head.

The beautiful scenery along the motorway didn’t capture Van der Vaart’s attention. He just kept driving aimlessly, turning from the A2 onto the A9 Motorway and heading west.

He still had no idea where he was going.

Just then, on a country road just off the motorway, a familiar figure suddenly caught Van der Vaart’s attention.

’Yang Yang? What’s he doing here?’

’Oh, right. I think he lives in Oude Kerk.’

’But why would he be out here by Oude Kerk Lake so early in the morning?’

Van der Vaart was curious. Seeing an exit for Oude Kerk just ahead, he immediately pulled off the motorway. He drove a little further, made a U-turn, and headed back to the spot along the Oudekerk Lakefront where he’d just seen Yang Yang.

But by now, the entire lakeside road was deserted. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

"Maybe I was just seeing things," Van der Vaart said with a wry smile, shaking his head.

’We’d just played an intense match against Arsenal last night. A night game, no less. Everyone must be exhausted. Besides a poor sap like me who can’t sleep, who else would be out this early?’

’And besides, I thought I saw Yang Yang jogging while juggling a ball. How could that be possible?’

But since he was already here, Van der Vaart got out of the car to take a walk. He gazed at the tranquil Oude Kerk Lake, but his own heart refused to be still.

Right now, he really needed someone to tell him what to do next. Sometimes, he even wondered if he was truly cut out to be the captain.

Getting the captain’s armband hadn’t been difficult. For a homegrown talent from the youth academy like him, it had been a natural progression, almost a matter of course. But what came after?

It felt like ever since he’d put on that armband, he hadn’t been able to find any peace of mind.

The more he thought, the more tangled his thoughts became.

Van der Vaart let out a long sigh and walked back to his car. Just as he opened the door to get in, he spotted a faint figure in the distance. A muffled THUMP... THUMP... THUMP... drifted over. It was the sound of a foot striking a soccer ball.

The Ajax captain stared ahead, astonished, watching without blinking as the distant figure drew nearer and nearer.

"It really is you?!" Van der Vaart exclaimed, finally getting a clear look at the approaching person.

"Huh? What are you doing here?" Yang Yang asked, clearly surprised to see Van der Vaart.

The Ajax captain, however, was completely shocked. He couldn’t believe his eyes hadn’t deceived him—it was real.

"You’re out this early..." Van der Vaart couldn’t believe his eyes. He pointed at Yang Yang. "...training all by yourself?"

"Yeah, I’m used to getting up early. I figure I might as well come out for a run and practice my ball skills when I have the time," Yang Yang said with a smile as he walked closer. He then added with a self-deprecating laugh, "You know my fundamentals are crap. If I don’t put in the extra effort, how can I keep up?"

Van der Vaart fell silent. Yang Yang’s fundamentals really were terrible, especially his first touch. It was atrocious.

He himself was renowned for his technical skill, and his first touch was exceptional—the result of years of hard work since childhood. Yang Yang’s first touch, on the other hand, was abysmal. It was so bad that everyone on the team knew not to pass directly to his feet if they could help it; his touch was always too heavy.

"Do you train by yourself every single morning?"

"Yeah. When I’m home, I do two laps around the lake here. It’s exactly six kilometers. If we’re playing an away game, I’ll just jog around the hotel a bit to warm up," Yang Yang answered matter-of-factly.

It was his routine, not some big secret he needed to hide.

’He even keeps up his training during away games... ’

A sudden sense of respect grew in Van der Vaart. Yang Yang’s fundamentals were certainly poor, but his dedication and hard work reminded Van der Vaart of his own childhood. Back then, he too had spent every waking moment with a ball at his feet, practicing day and night. Playing football had been his greatest joy.

"Something on your mind?" Yang Yang asked, noticing the expression on Van der Vaart’s face. He was aware of the captain’s recent predicament and his conflict with the head coach.

Maxwell was the team’s walking encyclopedia of gossip, and Ibrahimovic was constantly sharing embarrassing stories about Van der Vaart, so it was impossible for Yang Yang not to know. And truthfully, he felt that Van der Vaart’s personality wasn’t suited for the captaincy. At the very least, when the team needed a leader to step up, Van der Vaart’s temperament made it difficult for him to rise to the occasion.

"Just had a fight with my girlfriend. Came out for a drive to cool off," Van der Vaart said with an awkward laugh.

He’d rather have Yang Yang think he was just having relationship troubles.

Yang Yang shrugged, saying nothing.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Van der Vaart asked.

Yang Yang shook his head. "Nope."

"But I heard that quite a few girls at your school have written you love letters."

"Who told you that?" Yang Yang asked, embarrassed.

’He didn’t even have to guess. It must have been that big mouth, Ibrahimovic.’

"Haha, so it is true! I think that’s a good thing. At least it proves you’ve got charm."

Yang Yang shrugged again. He was still pretty clueless when it came to romance. He didn’t even know what type of girl he liked and had never given it much thought. But he felt the most important thing was having a kindred spirit.

It was like with his parents. They bickered frequently, but they had an incredible relationship. They shared everything with each other and went through thick and thin together.

But he had yet to meet anyone like that.

"Believe me," Van der Vaart began, "the nightlife in Amsterdam is a complicated thing. For a long time to come, as long as you’re still in Amsterdam, you’ll be surrounded by countless beautiful women. They’ll throw themselves at you, try every trick in the book to win you over. But you have to learn how to tell which ones are being fake and which ones are for real."

"In European football, there are countless beautiful women desperate for fame. For them, latching onto a professional player is without a doubt the fastest and easiest shortcut. A single mistake on our part can become their ladder to stardom, a mistake that could follow a player for his entire life, even becoming a stain on his reputation that can never be erased."

Van der Vaart’s words struck a chord with Yang Yang. He couldn’t help but wonder, ’So is Silvia’s love for him real, or is it fake? And why did they fight?’

In the end, however, Yang Yang suppressed his nosy impulse. He didn’t want to pry into someone else’s private life.

Nevertheless, Yang Yang took the warning from the more experienced Van der Vaart to heart. At the same time, he got the vague impression that perhaps Van der Vaart and Silvia’s relationship wasn’t as picture-perfect as the public believed.

Eventually, the two of them sat down on the roadside by Oude Kerk Lake. Their conversation drifted from relationships to football, and the more they talked, the more animated they became.

Van der Vaart was a prodigy who had been famous since his youth, and he possessed his own unique insights into the game. Furthermore, he had debuted as a left winger, and Yang Yang learned a great deal from their exchange.

In fact, some of the Ajax captain’s ideas were so revolutionary they blew Yang Yang’s mind. ’So you can play football like that, too...’