Persuasion to Quit

April 2003, Almere, Flevoland Province, the Netherlands.

On a lush green soccer training field in the northern city's Sports Park, a group of sixteen-year-old Dutch boys stood in a circle, playing a game called keep-away. Though it was training, their faces were unusually relaxed. There was none of the tension one would expect from a training session. It looked more like horseplay, even mockery.

The keep-away game had another name: monkey in the middle.

And the Chinese boy in the middle was the one being treated like a monkey.

His black hair and yellow skin made him especially conspicuous on an all-Dutch team. As he ran tirelessly around the field trying to win the ball, he looked like a headless fly charging blindly in every direction. His efforts repeatedly drew waves of laughter from the surrounding players, further fueling the Dutch boys' amusement.

The spectators gathered along the sideline were also thoroughly entertained, as if they were watching not a soccer training session, but a spectacular performance by the Amsterdam Royal Circus.

The ball moved skillfully from foot to foot among the Dutch boys forming the circle. Though the Chinese boy kept running and chasing it, he never managed to win possession. Several times, he luckily caught up, drawing startled cries from around him, but in the end, he still brushed past the ball without touching it.

At first, every failed attempt brought laughter from the surrounding players, even taunts and jeers. But gradually, those sounds grew quieter, until at last, complete silence fell.

Any cruel game might initially stimulate the audience's adrenaline with its novelty. But after it was repeated again and again, the spectators gradually became numb. Instead, they began to sense something tragic.

The tragedy of the weak being butchered at the mercy of the strong.

"Poor kid. Why does he keep holding on?" someone sighed sympathetically, shaking his head.

"It's nothing unusual. He's like this every time."

"It's been almost a year. Why hasn't he given up yet?"

"If it were me, I would've quit long ago."

"He's pretty fast, and his stamina is good. It's just that his fundamentals are utterly terrible."

"I've watched soccer for years, and this Chinese kid really has no future. Forget the professional leagues—he probably doesn't even meet the standards for amateur soccer. He should quit quickly and find another path while he can."

"Who could disagree? Mr. Reip has tried to persuade him to quit many times, but he stubbornly refuses."

"What a stubborn kid."

"Such a pity. If he'd come a few years earlier, with his speed and stamina, plus that determination, he might really have had a chance of playing professionally. But now..."

"There's nothing he can do."

Head Coach John Rep finally blew the whistle to signal the end of training.

Everyone present, including him, let out a heavy breath.

It was finally over!

The mere ten minutes of keep-away had seemed incredibly long to them.

After the whistle sounded, the Chinese boy, who still hadn't managed to win the ball, was so exhausted that he collapsed to his knees on the field, gasping harshly for breath.

His teammates walked past him. Occasionally, one or two of them would show pity and pat him lightly on the head or shoulder.

But their comfort did not make him feel better. Instead, it made him feel humiliated. He clenched his fists and hammered the grass, berating himself constantly.

His name was Yang Yang. He was sixteen years old and came from a small county in Quanzhou, Fujian, China. His parents ran a small shoe factory, and the family was fairly well-off. Seeing that he loved soccer, they had sent him to train with a retired professional player in the city from a young age. He had also lived up to their expectations, standing head and shoulders above his peers.

His uncle, Shen Ming, ran a Chinese Restaurant in Almere, the Netherlands. During a visit home, he happened to watch Yang Yang play in a school match and casually suggested that he go to the Netherlands for further training. The suggestion immediately stirred Yang Yang's heart.

At first, his parents disagreed. After all, the gap between Chinese and European players was so vast, and Yang Yang had never even undergone proper professional training. How could he possibly succeed?

But Yang Yang persisted. With Shen Ming helping to make arrangements, his parents eventually had no choice but to reluctantly agree, treating it as an opportunity for him to gain experience abroad.

The agreement was for one year. If Yang Yang could establish himself in the Netherlands, they would let him continue playing soccer. Otherwise, he would return home, focus on his studies, and completely give up his dream of becoming a professional player.

He had arrived in the Netherlands full of ambition, but what awaited him was one crushing blow after another.

He first failed trials with several teams in Amsterdam and was rejected by them. With no other choice, he used his uncle's connections to persuade the third-tier amateur club Almere to accept him through sponsorship. That allowed Yang Yang to train with the club's youth team for a year. Yet compared with his Dutch peers from these amateur teams, he was still far behind.

During that year of training with Almere, he did everything he could to improve himself and worked hard to adapt to the club's training. But his poor fundamentals were exposed again and again in daily practice. In particular, during the seemingly simple yet highly demanding game of keep-away, his frequent passing and receiving errors left him entering the circle to chase the ball time after time.

Scenes like today's played out almost every day.

If Yang Yang had not been clear-headed enough before, then his experiences over the past year had allowed him to fully understand the enormous gap between himself and Dutch players his age.

He was unwilling to accept it, yet he had no way to change things.

He had already missed the best age for building a solid foundation.

With the one-year deadline approaching, Yang Yang's situation within the team had only grown worse. Even after giving everything he had, he still could not improve. This filled him with frustration and self-blame, leaving him with no outlet but to keep pounding the grass and venting his gloom.

"Yang."

After the players had all left, John Rep came over to Yang Yang. Looking at the sweat-soaked, panting boy, he felt deeply helpless.

Naturally, he knew everything that had happened on the field.

If John Rep had felt some dislike for this player who had entered through connections a year ago, Yang Yang's diligence and determination over the past year had completely changed his opinion. But that did not affect John Rep's judgment of Yang Yang's future in the slightest.

The fifty-one-year-old Dutch Middle-aged Man felt sympathy and regret over Yang Yang's situation. In the end, however, he hardened his heart. He had not called a premature halt to the session, choosing instead to watch coldly from the sidelines.

If Yang Yang had appeared before him a few years earlier, John Rep believed that his persistence would certainly have given him a chance. But now... he could only tactfully persuade him to quit.

He believed that this was taking responsibility for Yang Yang's future.

"Mr. Reip." Yang Yang climbed to his feet and addressed him respectfully.

Over the past year, he had learned a great deal from this Dutch veteran and had never dared to be the slightest bit careless.

"You know that this training cycle will end in a little over a month. We'll hold an internal assessment then," John Rep said flatly.

Yang Yang nodded. This was the Youth Training Camp model that Almere had borrowed from the Dutch powerhouse Ajax.

Every year, the assessment eliminated some underqualified trainees and brought in fresh blood to stimulate internal competition. Those who performed exceptionally would be recommended by the club to attend Ajax's Talent Day in Amsterdam in July, giving them a chance to be selected for Ajax's Youth Training Camp.

As Ajax's satellite club, Almere received three recommendation slots every year. Only the very best trainees qualified for one of those letters of recommendation.

If the Yang Yang who had first arrived a year ago had still been confidently dreaming of Ajax, he now had only one thought: to remain at Almere.

But that was becoming increasingly difficult.

"You know, Yang." John Rep looked at Yang Yang reluctantly, his eyes filled with helplessness. "We are the first team in Almere's nearly thirty years since its founding to have a chance of entering the professional leagues. The municipal government and people from all walks of life are paying close attention to our development. This year's assessment will certainly attract a great many guests and fans, so..."

There were some things John Rep could not bear to say directly, but his meaning was clear enough.

Though Yang Yang had been in the Netherlands for only a year, John Rep believed that his Dutch was good enough for him to understand both the spoken and unspoken meaning.

"Your academic results are excellent, and your teachers at school think very highly of you. We all believe you should focus your efforts in that direction. If you're willing, I can persuade the chairman to let you continue attending the secondary school that cooperates with us even after you leave the team. In the future, you might even have a chance of entering Amsterdam University."

Amsterdam University was the Netherlands' best institution of higher learning and one of Europe's most prestigious universities.

In John Rep's view, Yang Yang's chances of becoming a professional player were even slimmer than his chances of getting into Amsterdam University, though competition for the latter was also fierce.

Yang Yang understood what John Rep meant. This kind of persuasion had already happened repeatedly over the past period, and the Head Coach's wording had grown increasingly direct. He knew that the promise John Rep had made today was already exceptionally generous.

The secondary school he attended was one of Almere's finest private schools. Without being an Almere Youth Training Player, he would never have been able to enroll. The club had never offered similar compensation to other players who were cut, so this was clearly an exception made for him.

But Yang Yang still could not accept it.

"Thank you, Mr. Reip." After thinking for only a moment, Yang Yang lifted his head and looked directly at the Head Coach. With a resolute expression, he shook his head. "I understand that you're trying to help me, but I really don't want to give up like this. As long as the final moment hasn't arrived, I won't admit defeat."

"You..."

"I've made up my mind, Mr. Reip." Yang Yang ended the conversation without leaving room for discussion.

John Rep had been mentally prepared for this outcome. He did not take offense at Yang Yang's stubbornness and persistence. On the contrary, he admired it greatly. But the more he admired him, the more regret he felt.

If Yang Yang had appeared before him a few years earlier, he believed the outcome would have been completely different.

At the very least, his fundamentals would have been much more solid than they were now. With his speed and stamina, he could definitely have established himself at Almere, and might even have achieved something greater.

Unfortunately, he had already missed the best age.

With that thought, John Rep watched Yang Yang's departing back and let out a long sigh.

Almere was a satellite city of Amsterdam. Most of the people living there worked in Amsterdam, leaving early and returning late. As a result, dinner was the busiest period for the city's restaurants.

Unlike usual, Yang Yang did not go to the restaurant to help after training. He called his uncle to explain, then returned home and locked himself in his room.

He felt that he needed some time alone.

Lying on his back on the single bed, he stared up at the low ceiling, where two enormous posters of his favorite idols were pasted.

One was the Brazilian superstar Ronaldo, currently playing for Real Madrid, and the other was the retired Dutch legend Van Basten.

Countless times, he had lain on his bed like this, watching his idols as he drifted to sleep. He had even dreamed of competing on the same field as them.

But he had never felt as lost as he did now.

He knew himself well enough to understand the gap between him and his Dutch peers. Yet he could not accept failing like this, giving up on his soccer dream in disgrace.

He thought of his parents back home. They would surely be disappointed when they heard the news.

Although his parents had always urged him to give up soccer and return home to study, they had hoped he would make that choice himself.

No parents wanted their child to suffer a setback like this, did they?

And there was his uncle's family. They had probably been mentally prepared for this, but they would certainly still be very disappointed.

As he thought, he gradually drifted off, almost without realizing it.

In a daze, Yang Yang had a very strange dream.

He found himself in a pitch-black, unknown space where he could not see his hand in front of his face.

He was unsure whether he was dreaming. He shouted desperately and ran desperately, trying to escape that terrifying place.

But after his voice grew hoarse and his legs grew tired, he seemed to still be standing in the same spot.

Just then, from somewhere far away, a faint, ethereal voice drifted over.

Yang Yang!

He vaguely heard someone calling his name. At first, the voice was extremely weak, but gradually, he heard it clearly.

He immediately ran toward the sound.