Spain, Barcelona
Rijkaard looked at the young man standing before him, smiled kindly, and said, "It’s ti, Bojan, for the next league match you will be on the roster, and I promise you, you will get to play at an appropriate mont."
Bojan’s pupils slightly dilated, and besides excitent, he also felt a huge pressure.
Originally, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. As a genius from La Masia, his entry into the first team and becoming an important player was supposed to be a natural progression.
In the youth team, he broke all of ssi’s records, almost rising to fa stepping over ssi, and everyone said he would surpass ssi.
But after sharing a locker room and training on the sa field with ssi, he realized what kind of player ssi really was; he didn’t need extra flair, like bicycle kicks.
He just needed to speed up his footwork, with the most "plain and unassuming" thod, and that was enough to leave the defenders in a sorry state.
Bojan had also once joined his teammates in jesting, wanting to see ssi’s bicycle kicks, and ssi shyly perford, his small legs moving as if leaving afterimages.
Can I really surpass him?
Everyone believed Bojan could; fans began to gather outside his house, and he was dubbed "the new ssi."
The top managent even planned to elevate Bojan as a backup in case they fell out with ssi, but can I really?
Rijkaard noticed Bojan’s odd expression, his smile growing even kinder, as if a holy light shone upon his dark face. He patted Bojan’s shoulder and said, "Don’t be nervous, look at Chen, he’s even younger than you and already starting for Real Madrid."
"I believe you will be even better than him."
Bojan raised his head, looking at Rijkaard, rembering again the foolish words he said that day, and that arrogant figure erged in his mind.
His arms crossed, with a scornful expression, he said, "I started for Real Madrid at 16 and have won two championships, what about you?"
Ahhhhhhh!
Feelings of sha mixed with anger ignited in Bojan’s heart. I certainly won’t be worse than that bastard.
I need, to work harder.
...
Spain, Valencia
Mata was on the phone with Negredo; in the recently concluded second round of La Liga, his team Valencia faced off against Negredo’s team, Alria.
Both started, and on the field, it was a love-hate relationship, with Valencia narrowly winning by one goal.
"Next ti I won’t lose to you," Negredo gritted his teeth on the phone, "But, that monster Chen, shouldn’t we give him a call?"
"No, no, wait, he didn’t even call us."
"What’s the point, to tell us losers how well he’s doing at Real Madrid?"
"He dare!" Negredo shouted, "By then, I will definitely score in front of him on the field."
In training, both showcased their talents and began to establish themselves in their respective teams. After a few more exchanges, they ended the call.
Mata was silent for a mont, at the sa ti as Negredo, in different places, they both looked at the sky with a similar sigh.
"Chen is truly a monster!"
...
Spain, Madrid
Getafe
Morata watched the mont Chen Zhong took the penalty on TV, and a certain thought in his mind was gradually magnifying.
"That monster!" Morata muttered, as Real Madrid’s youth academy increasingly contacted him; the main reason for his hesitation about signing was.
He was unsure whether he would have an "opportunity" at Real Madrid, as a genius, he wasn’t afraid of competition, only lack of opportunity.
But this current Real Madrid could heavily utilize a sowhat famous Sneijder, could let Chen Zhong appear repeatedly in matches, could give chances to young people like Ramos and Casillas.
Recalling the mont Raul gave the penalty to Chen Zhong, rembering the two embracing.
Also initially playing in Atletico Madrid’s youth, a crazy thought erged in Morata’s mind.
"I want to join Real Madrid."
"And then beco the new Raul."
"No, beco Morata."
A fire nad ambition burned in Morata’s eyes. He rembered that day when he was dominated by Chen Zhong in the match, he always thought of revenge.
"Monster, you won’t anticipate this!"
Morata, sowhat theatrical, waved his arms and gazed at the sky, "From now on, you watch my back! I am the new king of Real Madrid."
He would quickly rise through Real Madrid’s youth system, promote to Castilla, then to Real Madrid wearing the pure white, becoming the fans’ new darling.
Be glad! Emperor, no, one must still be down to earth.
Be glad! Castilla!
Your new king is about to descend.
Morata felt his theatrical soul was burning fiercely.
He wondered if thinking back on this night years later would cause him to curl up with embarrassnt.
Will anyone know what happened tonight!?
Should be?
...
Spain, Castilla
Lopetegi and the players watched Chen Zhong’s match performance, and Chen had already beco their target, what they saw was not Chen Zhong but their future entry into the first team.
It turns out, as long as you are outstanding enough, even at Real Madrid you have a future, a chance to impress.
After watching, Nacho once again shared stories of him and Chen Zhong with the players. With the corroboration of midfield core Parejo, winger genius Vazquez, and main forward Callejon, Chen Zhong had even beco a spiritual belief for so young players.
They all aid to be like Chen, aspiring to be the next Chen Zhong.
Lopetegi looked at the eager Nacho, with a helpless smile. Initially, he wanted to give the captain armband to Nacho a bit later, as he needed to first gain locker room support and not displease the senior players, only then could he smoothly take over.
Yet, Nacho surprisingly achieved this goal just by supporting Chen Zhong.
"Young people need goals."
"Look at these spirited young lads."
"Recently, the number of youth geniuses interested in joining Real Madrid’s youth academy has also increased!"
Nacho beca Chen Zhong’s "spokesperson" in Castilla; Chen Zhong was like a celebrity in the sa school grade, if no one promoted, others might just think he’s cool, but with promotion from other school celebrities, he instantly beca an idol.
Ambitious Morata, perhaps he couldn’t have imagined, if he ca to Castilla with the goal to beco the new king, stepping on Chen Zhong, his first challenge might not be Chen Zhong, but his "followers."
Let’s hope he can stick to his original intentions facing that wave of "brainwashing."
...
Spain, Madrid
Schuster was facing a dilemma.
tzelder recovered from injury.
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