Chapter Six: Rules

Page (1/3)

Group number 563036979, just one more person! One more and we’ll have seven, then we can summon the dragon!

The next match was starting to get interesting, yet Mo Mo sensed something was amiss. Hao Haidong and his team's attacks had indeed intensified, but on Fan Zhiyi's side, the defensive effort had noticeably waned.

Bora Milutinovic's expression grew more subdued. As expected, this young man couldn’t break free from the cycle of established rules.

What were these rules? The rules were Fan Zhiyi and Hao Haidong. The rule was if these two weren’t on the same side during a training match, then the game would end in a draw—this was the unspoken law.

Now, in the match unfolding before them, Hao Haidong’s team was fighting fiercely, but Fan Zhiyi’s squad seemed to be holding back. Yet, outwardly, the game still appeared intense—an odd phenomenon indeed.

Just then, Yang Chen delivered a brilliant pass, Hao Haidong broke through the offside trap, the main goalkeeper Jiang Jin rushed out, Hao Haidong lobbed the ball over him and scored. Fan Zhiyi's team's lead lasted less than three minutes. At that moment, a suited official on the sidelines spoke up.

“What are you doing? What are you doing! What’s going on here? What if someone gets injured? Do you still want to go to the World Cup?”

Beside that official stood Bora Milutinovic, looking helpless. Ever since the team qualified for the World Cup, Milutinovic’s authority had been undermined. Though he was still the head coach, the leaders of various departments had started to meddle.

In truth, those officials were dissatisfied with Milutinovic’s methods. They preferred to see the players sticking to regimented training, not playing tennis or engaging in activities unrelated to practice.

Moreover, Milutinovic was considered out of touch by those officials, at least in their eyes.

Normally, they welcomed extra training matches, but now, at this critical juncture, they wanted the players to rest, avoid injuries, and play well in the World Cup—to bolster their own achievements.

Yet, at this moment, Milutinovic was once again at odds with these officials.

Page (2/3)

Previously, Milutinovic advocated relaxation and joyful football. The high-ranking officials disapproved, insisting on serious training. Milutinovic would argue that football should be joyful, that one should trust in the happiness of the game.

Now, the officials were urging relaxation, cautioning against any bumps or bruises. But Milutinovic was pushing for training to maintain form! What if someone got injured before the World Cup?

Milutinovic frowned deeply, unable to comprehend the situation. The closer it got to the crucial moment, shouldn’t they be keeping their form? Otherwise, stepping onto the World Cup stage would only mean suffering a huge loss.

In these days, with the media lavishing praise and newspapers full of accolades, the national team was enjoying a good life. Naturally, they were happy to indulge. Besides, their physical fitness was strong; a little training wouldn’t make much difference, and in such a short time, what improvement could really be gained?

With this mindset, enthusiasm for training waned. Now, with the official’s command, everyone scattered, except for Fan Zhiyi and Hao Haidong, who were still glaring at each other. Seeing this, Mo Mo assumed the training match would end without result, but unexpectedly, experience points were still awarded to him.

However, the original 150 training points were now reduced to 50. Mo Mo couldn’t help but curse under his breath. How “humane.”

Still, it wasn’t so bad. An hour of training only gave eight points, and now he’d gotten fifty in such a short time—equivalent to five hours for free. Better than nothing! As everyone was about to disperse, the official noticed Mo Mo, who was still intent on extra practice, and called out.

“You there! Didn’t I say no more training? Avoid injuries! What’s your name? Why haven’t I seen you before?”

Mo Mo frowned. With the tournament approaching, concern over injuries was understandable, but forbidding even basic training—how could they compete? In a match, the side that gets into form first always has the advantage.

“I’ll be fine. I’m just practicing casually.”

Despite Mo Mo’s measured tone, the official seemed to take it as an act of defiance and was about to speak again. Fortunately, Fan Zhiyi stepped in. Mo Mo didn’t know what was said, but soon, Fan Zhiyi, the official, and some players left, chatting and laughing.

“Mo Mo, don’t take it to heart. Just be yourself,”

Milutinovic, perhaps worried that Mo Mo might be affected by the incident, came forward to reassure him. But would Mo Mo really put it behind him?

Page (3/3)

In fact, China’s group in the 2002 World Cup could be considered as an honorable defeat. The champions Brazil and third-place Turkey were both in that group, and Costa Rica was no pushover. If China hadn’t been placed in that group, reaching the round of sixteen wouldn’t have been out of the question.

Back in 1990, Costa Rica, under Milutinovic’s coaching, made it to the final stages of the World Cup. In Italy, they beat Sweden 2-1, edged Scotland 1-0, and lost narrowly to Brazil 0-1, advancing as group runners-up. In the knockout stage, they lost 1-4 to Czechoslovakia.

Given those circumstances, China’s crushing defeat as a newcomer to the World Cup was not surprising. One wonders where the domestic media’s confidence in their exaggerated praise came from; Mo Mo always felt it was a kind of karmic retribution.

Those three teams had far more World Cup experience than China, especially since China’s main players were older. Was it not obvious that, in the first match against Costa Rica, injured players were replaced as soon as they were hurt?

Hao Haidong was almost invisible in the World Cup, seemingly never taking a shot, though he did contribute passes and setups. In terms of physical confrontation, China suffered greatly; their two “double insurance” goalkeepers were still a notch below world standards. Facing powerful shots from other teams, they stood little chance.

In the qualifiers, the team had avoided Japan and South Korea, only to be drawn into a “group of death” in the World Cup. The national team, buoyed by domestic media hype, had become somewhat complacent.

After all, in forty-four years, China had never reached the World Cup. Every step they took now was writing history.

Mo Mo ran toward the training field and began his exercises.

Perhaps he couldn’t lead the nation into the round of sixteen, but he had to at least score a goal!

Two shots off the post? No, no, no! There must be a goal!

In Mo Mo’s eyes, flames burned—a fighting spirit his teammates could not yet comprehend.