Super Wingstorm

On Saturday afternoon, an inter-school league match was underway at Baken Academy’s campus soccer field.

Since both competing teams were from Almere, the match drew numerous local fans, who crowded around the field, which had no stands, packing it to the brim.

The two competing teams were the hosts, Baken Academy, and the established powerhouse, Omni-Bass.

Baken Academy was a prestigious private school in Almere, but athletics was not its strong suit. It wasn’t until the rise of the city’s new Almere Club that Baken Academy began to fully cooperate with their youth training program, using Almere’s youth system to improve its own school team.

But Almere Club had only emerged less than seven years ago. Even with their youth program cooperating with Ajax, it had yet to fully mature. In contrast, Omni-Bass, as an old, established school, had always boasted a strong team. Moreover, in this match, they were deliberately focusing their defense on Baken Academy’s midfielder, Henk Demyer.

As the rising star of the Almere Youth Team, Henk Demyer was hailed as the first player with a real chance of entering the Ajax Youth Academy. His skill level made him stand out from the crowd in Almere, and his impact on the field was obvious.

But under Omni-Bass’s tight marking, and with insufficient support from his teammates, he was stretched thin and struggled to make an impact, finding himself unable to accomplish anything alone.

On the other hand, Omni-Bass’s left flank was extremely active, repeatedly tearing through Baken Academy’s defense. Early in the first half, they capitalized on the speed of their left-wing player, who broke through the defensive line and sent in a cross. The tall center forward in the box quickly followed up, leaping up to head the ball into the net from close range.

After conceding the goal, Baken Academy’s play became chaotic. Henk Demyer, in particular, grew impatient on the field, making frequent mistakes and giving Omni-Bass one opportunity after another to launch counter-attacks.

The first half ultimately ended with Omni-Bass leading by a single goal.

As they walked off the field, the Baken Academy players all looked indignant, clearly dissatisfied with the first half’s result.

As a rookie making the game roster for the first time, Yang Yang was mentally prepared not to play. But he had been watching the game’s development intently, especially the two players on the opposing team’s left flank.

Omni-Bass was playing a 4-4-2 formation with a relatively simple strategy. Once the ball reached the front field, they would almost always distribute it from the center to the left flank, using their left midfielder’s speed to break in behind the defensive line and create threats with crosses.

Baken Academy’s problem was that their main right-back, Nick, was out with an injury. The substitute player lacked skill and was showing stage fright, failing to perform at his usual level. This was the opening Omni-Bass seized, relentlessly attacking that side and frequently creating danger.

Almere’s head coach, John Reep, was also present at the match, but he mostly observed from the periphery. The one commanding the team on-site was still the assistant coach, Dick Van Puer. He also seemed to have realized the problem, calling all the players over during halftime to reorganize the defense on the right flank.

From start to finish, he never considered making a substitution.

* * *

"Why did you want to come watch this game?"

Among the fans watching from the sidelines, Trus Opmel asked the middle-aged Dutchman beside her with curiosity.

He had deliberately stayed away from soccer for nearly half a year, not watching a single match in that time. What surprised Trus was that, after six months, the first game he chose to watch was an inter-school match that couldn’t possibly be more amateur.

Why?

The Dutchman remained expressionless, his gaze fixed on the home team’s coaching area in the distance. Van Puer had already gathered everyone, and behind him, John Reep was also helping to strategize. It seemed his old friend couldn’t sit still either.

Trus was already used to her boyfriend’s attitude. She rolled her eyes and turned her head away.

Standing next to her were three Chinese people. From the young girl’s words, Trus gathered they were the family of the Chinese boy who trained at the skatepark. They had come specifically to cheer for him, but the boy remained firmly seated on the bench.

’Looks like he probably won’t get to play in this game.’

’The starters can’t even hold the line. If they substitute in a player with even weaker fundamentals and skills, they’ll be even less able to defend.’

But just then, a thought suddenly flashed through Trus’s mind. ’Could it be him?’

"You came all this way to watch this game specifically for him?" Trus asked, surprised.

The Dutchman neither confirmed nor denied it. "I’m concerned about our bet."

But his words were too perfunctory for Trus to believe. In fact, she grew even more curious.

’What is it about this Chinese boy that’s so captivating, that it’s worth him making a special trip to watch his game?’

"You’re bound to be disappointed. He probably won’t be playing in this one," Trus said, shaking her head.

Unexpectedly, however, the Dutchman simply replied, "The game isn’t over yet. Who knows?"

Trus rolled her eyes again, exasperated, but deep down she felt a little pleased.

’He’s finally starting to show some spirit again.’

* * *

The second half of the match began.

Omni-Bass stuck to their first-half strategy, focusing on marking Henk Demyer in the midfield and relentlessly attacking Baken Academy’s right flank on the counter. They were aggressively pressing their advantage.

Both John Reep and Dick Van Puer felt helpless about the situation, but there was nothing they could do.

Their team’s weak right flank was squarely in the crosshairs of the opponent’s strong left flank. It would be strange if Omni-Bass didn’t know how to exploit it.

"They’ve clearly studied us inside and out," Dick Van Puer said, shaking his head in frustration.

Even though it was just a youth team and an obscure inter-school match, he was the one independently coaching, and he naturally didn’t want to lose.

’But looking at the situation on the field, and then at his own bench, who could he possibly trust?’

Just as he was stewing in his frustration, an Omni-Bass player intercepted the ball in the midfield. Henk Demyer failed to pass it in time, and after being dispossessed, he didn’t immediately try to win it back. He let the opponent carry the ball forward to launch a counter-attack, which once again found its way to the left flank.

What happened next was practically a carbon copy of the first goal they conceded. Omni-Bass crossed from the left, and their tall center forward won the first ball in the box, heading it toward the goal. This time it hit a defender, but the opposing striker was there to pounce on the rebound and score.

Zero to two. The tide had turned completely against Baken Academy.

* * *

Even though he wasn’t playing, this was his first time on the bench, so Yang Yang naturally hoped his team would have some good luck.

’Maybe if the team wins, the head coach will put me on the roster for the next game too?’

But he never expected that his team would be so completely powerless against a strong crosstown rival.

’Look at these teammates on the field, the same ones who mercilessly crushed him in daily practice. Right now, they couldn’t display even a fraction of their usual skill from the training ground. Especially Henk Demyer, who was running around like a headless chicken, showing none of the flair of the team’s usual star player.’

Back when he was in China, Yang Yang had always been his team’s top player and hadn’t thought much of it. But now, sitting on the bench, he suddenly realized that even someone as strong as Henk Demyer couldn’t perform to his full potential when he was left to fight alone.

’In the end, soccer is a game of eleven people. One person can’t possibly succeed against eleven.’

He wasn’t on the field, but that didn’t mean Yang Yang wasn’t learning.

Before the match, Old Ice had given him an assignment: to focus on observing the game’s situation while putting himself in the players’ shoes and thinking about three questions: ’If that were me, where would I run? How would I receive the ball? And what would I do after receiving it?’

These three questions seemed simple, but when combined with the immense amount of information and the ever-changing dynamics of the match, even with the help of his God’s Vision, Yang Yang felt overwhelmed. He was often unable to keep up and could only focus on the two players on the right flank.

It was precisely because of this that he noticed the substitute right-back who had come on was playing terribly, not even performing at half his usual level from practice.

* * *

The match had been going on for over an hour, and Omni-Bass was leading the home team, Baken Academy, two-nil. This was a huge blow to the home team. In contrast, the visiting team’s morale was sky-high, and they looked poised to rout Baken Academy in one fell swoop.

But just when everyone was worried that Baken Academy would suffer a total collapse, another incident occurred on the field.

While defending against a through ball and racing against the opposing left midfielder, Baken Academy’s right-back, who was tracking back, managed to get to the ball first but then collided with the opponent. He tumbled to the ground and didn’t get back up.

The fans on the sidelines erupted in an uproar.

The referee quickly paused the match and motioned for the team doctor to come on. Not long after, a stretcher was brought out, and Baken Academy’s right-back was carried off the field. The initial diagnosis was a sprain.

When it rains, it pours.

The Baken Academy supporters on the sidelines shook their heads in disappointment, clearly despairing over the match.

With both right-backs injured, how could they possibly continue the match against Omni-Bass’s powerful left flank?

Dick Van Puer was just as troubled. The Dutchman’s brow was furrowed, and he clenched his fists tightly. He knew he had to make a decision in the shortest time possible.

’A substitution. I have to make a substitution.’

’But the key is, who?’

’Bring on a center-back?’

’Then this game is as good as lost, and everyone will think my decision was too conservative.’

Dick Van Puer’s gaze swept over the substitutes’ bench, his eyes filled with conflict. None of them seemed suitable.

Finally, his eyes landed on Yang Yang.

’This Chinese kid has made a lot of progress lately, especially on the defensive end, where he’s repeatedly made some eye-catching tackles. Plus, his stamina is excellent, and he’s fast. If I put him on now, maybe he can actually hold the line for the remaining half hour.’

At this thought, Dick Van Puer gritted his teeth. It was a desperate measure, but he had to try. He immediately pointed at Yang Yang.

"Yang, get your warm-ups off, quick! You’re going in at right-back."

"Huh?" Yang Yang could hardly believe his ears. He shot up from his seat and stared at Dick Van Puer.

’He wants me to go in as a substitute now?’

"I believe in you, Yang. You can definitely handle it," Dick Van Puer said encouragingly.

But even to himself, the words sounded weak and unconvincing, and Yang Yang believed them even less.

"Anyway, once you’re on, don’t overthink it. Just do one thing: defend. Mark their left midfielder. As for anything else, just play it by ear."

After speaking, Dick Van Puer clapped Yang Yang firmly on the shoulder and pushed him toward the sideline.

Yang Yang’s head was still spinning. He hadn’t expected to actually get on the field.

It wasn’t until he was standing on the sideline and saw his uncle’s family of three across the field waving and shouting encouragement at him that he managed a small smile, his mind clearing.

’Yeah, it’s finally my turn to play.’