Chapter Five: Strange

Enough, since things had reached this point, there had to be some kind of referee, right? It was just then that the coaching staff appeared, saving Hao Haidong the trouble of searching for anyone. After all, the "Dalian clique" was well represented, and the head coach, Bora Milutinovic, personally divided up the teams.

The two sides were paired off, and with a simple division, they became Team Fan Zhiyi and Team Hao Haidong.

Team Fan Zhiyi:
Forwards: Mo Mo, Su Maozhen
Midfielders: Li Xiaopeng, Qu Bo, Yu Genwei, Zhao Junzhe
Defenders: Fan Zhiyi, Zhang Enhua, Li Weifeng, Wu Chengying
Goalkeeper: Jiang Jin

Team Hao Haidong:
Forwards: Hao Haidong, Yang Chen
Midfielders: Li Tie, Ma Mingyu, Qi Hong, Shao Jiayi
Defenders: Du Wei, Sun Jihai, Yang Pu, Xu Yunlong
Goalkeeper: An Qi

Once Bora Milutinovic finished dividing the teams, both sides fell silent.

“Why not let the veteran Ou Chuliang be the goalkeeper?” Mo Mo found this puzzling. He remembered that FIFA had once released a Chinese Legends card, and the only goalkeeper there was Ou Chuliang, whose stats were quite decent. So why not use him and instead pick Jiang Jin?

No one answered Mo Mo, but when someone pointed out which one was Ou Chuliang, he immediately understood. Ou Chuliang looked rather aged—of course, born in 1968, two years older than Hao Haidong, already thirty-five this year. This time, the starting goalkeeper was Jiang Jin, with An Qi as backup; the two were known as the "double insurance." As for Ou Chuliang?

Indeed, the national team was packed with veterans at this point. Fan Zhiyi was thirty-two—the same generation as Hao Haidong, only a year younger. The aging of the national squad was severe. This so-called golden generation was probably shining for the last time, so it was little wonder that Mo Mo’s selection attracted few objections.

To be honest, Mo Mo was quite excited about a training match like this! These were legendary figures in Chinese football, after all! Never mind their World Cup record—for a long time, they were simply unmatched. But now, things were different.

The whistle blew, and the training match officially began.

Originally, Mo Mo was burning with excitement, but soon it was as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head. Was this really a match?

Mo Mo looked around and realized that apart from Fan Zhiyi and Hao Haidong, everyone else seemed to be slacking off! Especially his partner, Su Maozhen—Old Su was practically taking a stroll out there!

Fine, it was just a training match, no need to be too serious. But all these wasted opportunities meant lost training points! Alarms rang in Mo Mo’s mind: if the training match was played like this, training points would be calculated as in one-on-one training.

One-on-one training earned just eight points an hour, whereas a training match could net one hundred fifty points per game!

Meanwhile, on the sidelines, Bora Milutinovic looked troubled. This sort of match would never achieve his training goals—in fact, it was basically a stroll on the field. But how could he ignite their fighting spirit?

With all the media praise lately, the players were getting complacent. This was the classic trap of over-praise. As the saying goes, repeat a lie long enough and it becomes the truth. With the media’s adulation and Milutinovic’s reputation for taking underdogs to the last sixteen, they were starting to float.

While Milutinovic was pondering, Mo Mo was also thinking about how to fire them up. Just then, his gaze locked onto Fan Zhiyi. At that moment, Hao Haidong was dribbling, looking to break through and humiliate Fan Zhiyi.

But Fan Zhiyi wasn’t there for show. Though not the tallest or heaviest defender, his tackling technique was superb. One big clearance, and the ball soared away. Usually, at this point, everyone would return to their positions and whoever received the ball would pass it to Fan Zhiyi or Hao Haidong. But this time, something unexpected happened.

Someone received the ball—nothing unusual—but instead of passing, he kept it at his feet and charged towards Hao Haidong’s goal. Hao Haidong, who was waiting for the ball to come his way, realized something was off.

He looked back—hey! That new kid was charging towards his goal with the ball. Did he even know the rules?

Fan Zhiyi was delighted. Letting Hao Haidong keep pressing on wouldn’t do—sooner or later, a mistake would be made. Now, if this hometown kid could score a goal, let’s see how smug Hao Haidong remains!

In just a few moments, Mo Mo had broken through Hao Haidong’s midfield. Li Tie, Ma Mingyu, Qi Hong, and Shao Jiayi hadn’t paid any attention since the ball hadn’t come their way—they stood with hands on hips, gazing around, never expecting someone to break the unspoken rules.

“What are you doing! Fall back! Get back on defense!”

Initially, Hao Haidong didn’t care. He assumed his teammates would stop Mo Mo, but now, seeing them let Mo Mo barrel through unchecked, he was frantic. If they lost, where would he put his face?

Yang Chen was more down-to-earth. He didn’t shout; he just chased after Mo Mo—but at this distance, even if Mo Mo waited ten seconds, Yang Chen still wouldn’t catch up; he had pressed too high up the field.

Fan Zhiyi was thoroughly amused, watching Hao Haidong’s flustered face. He shouted, “Come on, kid! Go for it!”

With all the commotion from Hao Haidong, Fan Zhiyi, and the rest, the others finally realized what was happening. Only then did it dawn on them that someone was breaking the unwritten code.

It was as if a hornet’s nest had been stirred. By now, Mo Mo was not far from the penalty area. Hao Haidong’s backline—Du Wei, Sun Jihai, Yang Pu, and Xu Yunlong—were huddled together discussing something, but by sheer coincidence, they were all in the way.

Sun Jihai was the most successful Chinese player abroad at the time—first at Crystal Palace, then this year at Manchester United. If nothing else, his play had gotten much tougher in the Premier League. He patted Du Wei, Yang Pu, and Xu Yunlong, meaning, “Watch this! I’ll teach this unruly kid a lesson.”

Sun Jihai ran head-on towards Mo Mo, who now faced a dilemma. His dribbling wasn’t bad, but at a sprint, fancy footwork was difficult. Suddenly, Sun Jihai dropped into a sliding tackle.

Mo Mo might fear many things, but not this. It was like shooting a movie: rehearsed in advance—left, then right, and on three, action! It looked fast and fierce, but was really just choreography.

Was his composure stat of eighteen for nothing? A sliding tackle, when expected, was nothing to fear. As Sun Jihai slid in to “teach the kid some manners,” he saw only a blur as the ball flew past, and then faced the ultimate football humiliation.

Mo Mo had felt the ball bobble slightly—just enough for a little flick. Adapting on the fly, he popped the ball up with his toe and leapt over Sun Jihai, skipping past as if jumping rope.

Sun Jihai was startled—if the jump had been even a little short, Mo Mo would have landed right on him.

As Sun Jihai was beaten, the other defenders—Du Wei, Yang Pu, and Xu Yunlong—were still in shock. This was Sun Jihai, after all! The pride of Manchester City! Even if the Premier League wasn’t the very top league at the time.

While they hesitated, Mo Mo didn’t. The ball, still unsteady, slipped right through the gaps between the three defenders. With a burst of speed, he squeezed past—at 170 centimeters, he slipped through like a nimble eel.

Du Wei, Yang Pu, and Xu Yunlong instinctively tried to react—stretching out a leg, reaching for a shirt—but Mo Mo’s sudden acceleration was too much for them. They simply couldn’t stop him.

It was really Mo Mo’s speed that made the difference. With composure at eighteen, he could keep his cool and make the best choices at any moment. The others, with composure likely under ten, made mistake after mistake in that brief counterattack.

Of course, Sun Jihai’s arrogance, inflated by his move to Manchester City, played a part. But regardless, Mo Mo had broken into the penalty area alone—and he realized something.

The national team had good physical attributes, but lacked composure. They were more like wandering knights than a disciplined army. When things went well, they were full of energy; but when the tide turned, they lost all direction.

If even one of them had kept his head, Mo Mo would never have made it into the box. Now inside, what should he do? But by now, Mo Mo was in the zone—his only thought was to score.

To be fair, An Qi’s positioning was decent, but his goalkeeping was full of holes. Without overthinking, Mo Mo unleashed a powerful shot. The aim was true, the angle good. If An Qi had been steadier, it wouldn’t have been much of a threat.

But An Qi seemed unprepared for such a blast. He tried to block with one hand, but failed, and the ball crashed into the net at a steep angle! At the World Cup, the difference between our goalkeepers and world-class ones was just this—for all their athleticism, they always panicked against powerful shots.

Boom! It was as if something had been ignited. Mo Mo turned and saw Hao Haidong berating his teammates, while Fan Zhiyi was jubilant. Whatever the case, the match was about to get interesting.

Fan Zhiyi wanted to win, Hao Haidong refused to lose. And Mo Mo? He needed training points.