April 10, Cruyff Stadium in Amsterdam.
In the first leg of the Champions League quarterfinal knockout stage, Ajax hosted Juventus.
Before the match, as the players of both teams gradually walked onto the pitch under the lead of the referee, Yang Yang, dressed in a long-sleeved Adidas tracksuit and white shorts, smiled as he walked toward the visiting team's bench.
"Welcome to Cruyff Stadium." Yang Yang extended his hand from a distance.
Allegri had already seen Ajax's starting lineup and looked rather glum, his expression awkward. Even so, he extended his hand. "I didn't expect you not to start tonight."
Yang Yang raised his eyebrows and smiled. "I'm old. I can't play so many matches anymore."
As if I'd believe that!
Allegri cursed inwardly, but he still exchanged pleasantries. He knew that Yang Yang had not actually played many matches this season. Most of his appearances had come in the Champions League group and knockout stages. Up to now, he had played only eight matches in total. Was that a lot?
Could he be injured?
But there had been no news of that before. Given Yang Yang's influence, if he were injured, the media around the world would have spread the news already.
Then the greatest possibility was that this fellow had deliberately left himself out of the starting lineup, keeping a card hidden.
Since Yang Yang had taken charge of Ajax, Allegri had reached a conclusion from all of their Champions League matches this season: Yang Yang's tactical decisions were extremely unconventional. He often struck in places no one expected, while producing unbelievable results.
Could tonight be the same?
"Your performances this season have certainly been impressive, but we aren't Bayern Munich, nor are we Inter Milan, and we definitely aren't Manchester United." Allegri looked utterly confident.
Yang Yang