Ronaldo II

Winning a match seemed to make even the air smell sweeter.

That was the mood of Tony Bruns Slots, Ajax's chief scout, on this Sunday morning.

The night before, at the Amsterdam Arena, Ajax had put on an impressive performance against visiting Graafschap.

After conceding an early goal to Hans van der Haar just three minutes into the match, Ajax's players quickly regrouped and leveled the score in the sixteenth minute through midfielder Yakubu's assist to Van der Vaart.

If the first half could be described as evenly matched, the second half was completely dominated by Ajax. Van der Vaart, Sneijder, Galasek, Pienaar, Maxwell, and Bokari all found the net, leading to a resounding 7-1 home victory that thoroughly crushed Graafschap.

This win greatly relieved the pressure on Ajax. At a critical moment, local youngsters Van der Vaart and Sneijder had shown their core-player qualities, bringing comfort to the entire team.

In the four matches that Swedish center-forward Ibrahimovic had missed, Van der Vaart had been exceptionally eye-catching, scoring six goals and once again overshadowing Van der Meide, the Dutch star winger who had shone brightly this season.

Van der Meide had been Ajax's best-performing player this season. The right winger had attracted interest from many top clubs in the Champions League, with persistent rumors that he would leave the team this summer.

This was also a lingering concern for the entire squad, including Head Coach Koeman.

Defense was Ajax's biggest problem. Young players like Heitinga and Chivu were still not mature enough, but the attack was sharp, making them the best offensive team in the Dutch First Division this season. Multiple players, including Van der Vaart and Ibrahimovic, had reached double-digit goals, showcasing a widespread scoring threat.

Among them, Van der Meide on the right was the team's crucial flank attacker. If he truly transferred away, it would inevitably bring immeasurable losses to the team's offense. But if a top club made an offer, Ajax would find it hard to keep him.

Ever since Van Gaal's Champions League-winning generation fell apart in the mid-nineties, Ajax had been unable to retain its stars, fully degenerating into a talent factory for Europe's elite clubs.

Precisely because of this, Ajax valued scouting more than ever before.

Finding rough gems, polishing them, and then selling them at a high price for profit had become the consensus of Ajax's management and the club's survival strategy in the fiercely competitive European football scene.

Ajax had won 7-1, but Eindhoven had lost 1-3 away to Feyenoord. Kezman scored one goal, while Van Hooijdonk completed a hat-trick, including two penalties, sparking major controversy.

Regardless, Ajax had successfully narrowed the league points gap to three.

With only two rounds remaining in the league, anything was still possible.

It was with this cheerful mood that Slots walked into the scouting office at Ajax's training base, De Toekomst.

Ajax's scouting network spanned the globe. The Netherlands itself went without saying, while Scandinavia and Africa were the regions where Ajax invested the most scouting resources. Every day, scouts from around the world or partners connected with Ajax sent in player information and tracking reports.

Assistants would compile these reports into a booklet and deliver it to Slots's desk every morning.

As usual, Slots's first task after arriving at work was to browse through this report.

Although Ajax had long passed its glory days of the early nineties, a lean camel is still bigger than a horse. They remained a formidable force in European football, renowned for their youth development, naturally attracting young players from all over the world.

The player profiles sent to the club every day were countless. Slots was long accustomed to it. He skimmed through the bulk, picked out a few players of interest for a closer look, and even when he reached the final section—news about youth football matches around Amsterdam, where an amateur scout had recommended a winger dubbed "Ronaldo II"—it didn't catch his attention.

Ronaldo II?

These days, there were far too many players tagged with that label, but how many had real substance?

Just because someone could do the Pendulum Dribble, they were Ronaldo II?

And this one was a right-back who had only played two matches...

Slots shook his head, closed the report, and tossed it onto the corner of his desk, letting out a wry smile. "The quality of scouts these days is getting worse. I should probably clean things up properly."

Technical Director Leo Benhak had been caught up in a scandalous affair with a young club secretary. He publicly claimed he would leave the club this summer on good terms, but in reality, he had already resigned and was no longer in Amsterdam.

Management was currently looking for a suitable technical director. Word had it that the chairman already had someone in mind. Slots, who was temporarily handling some of the technical director's duties, felt he should take the opportunity to overhaul the scouting network to produce some tangible results.

The camp is iron, but the soldiers come and go.

Once the new technical director took over, who knew what changes would come.

While Slots was fretting in the southern suburbs of Amsterdam, Yang Yang had just finished his morning basic training at the Skate Park in Almere, drenched in sweat as if he had been pulled out of a bucket.

Since May began, the weather had been getting hotter.

Scoring his first goal since arriving in the Netherlands had given Yang Yang a strong boost of confidence. But what truly spurred him on, making him train even harder last night and this morning, was the Amsterdam Arena.

Just thinking about it left him deeply shaken, and he keenly felt the vast gap between himself and those young Ajax players.

After returning to Almere last night, he had watched the match broadcast. Van der Meide's performance on the right wing made him feel utterly inadequate, while Van der Vaart's technique and talent inspired a sense of awe.

Yet these two players weren't much older than him.

The gap was so enormous, and his teammates had such a great platform to develop. If he didn't work hard to catch up, he would only fall further behind.

"Drink some water."

The Dutch middle-aged man who often came to watch Yang Yang train had arrived again, still carrying two bottles of water, still sitting in the same spot, saying nothing until Yang Yang finished his special training session before handing him a bottle.

"Thanks." Yang Yang took the water, thanking him while wiping his sweat with a towel.

"You just played a full match yesterday, and now you're doubling your training this morning, even increasing the intensity. Can you handle it?"

Sensing a hint of concern in the tone, Yang Yang chuckled. "I know my own body. No problem."

His training volume was always checked by Old Bing from the Super Training Ground. If he couldn't handle it, Old Bing wouldn't let him push this hard.

"You've got something on your mind," the Dutch middle-aged man said with certainty.

Yang Yang found it strange. "How do you know?"

"It's written all over your face," the Dutch middle-aged man teased.

Even though he knew the other man was joking, Yang Yang couldn't help reaching up to touch his face, a gesture that made the usually stern Dutch Middle-aged Man crack a smile.

"I heard you did really well yesterday—two assists and a goal, with a high success rate on one-on-one breakaways. Looks like your recent special training has paid off, and your fundamentals have improved a lot. What's still bothering you?"

Toward this middle-aged stranger whose name he didn't even know, Yang Yang had been wary at first. But over time, after many encounters, he found the man meant no harm—he only ever watched his training and chatted with him casually. Gradually, he let his guard down. Now, hearing the question, he hesitated for a moment before pouring out the frustration in his heart.

"That's normal. Those guys have been receiving the most formal, professional football training since they were kids. The basic drills you're doing now, they were already breezing through at eight or nine years old. It's only natural that you're behind them."

"I get that." Yang Yang nodded, a trace of unwillingness flashing across his face. "But I just can't accept it."

"Then what do you want to do?"

Yang Yang paused for a moment, then asked earnestly, "Do you think I still have a chance to catch up to them?"

"I'll say it again—it's as hard as reaching the sky. But since you can see the gap and still have that thought, why not give it a try?"

"You mean..."

"Like you said the first time we met—you never know until you try."

Hearing this, Yang Yang felt much better. He looked at the Dutch Middle-aged Man again, curiosity piqued.

"When you were at Ajax, what position did you play? Were you as good as Van der Vaart, Van der Meide, Sneijder, or Litmanen? What was it like playing at the Amsterdam Arena?"

"When I played, Ajax's home ground was still the Olympic Stadium. They didn't move to the Amsterdam Arena until '96, so I don't know what it's like to play there. But..." A flicker of bitterness passed through the Dutch Middle-aged Man's eyes before he quickly continued, "I never played a single match for Ajax's First Team. I did come here as an opponent, but it didn't feel any different."

"I see." Yang Yang nodded, but soon a new question arose. "Why do I always run into you here?"

"Because I like coming here to watch you train." The Dutch Middle-aged Man was quite frank.

"Why?"

"Trus—my girlfriend—and I made a bet."

"What?"

"I bet you couldn't stick with this boring, repetitive basic training for a month, but she thought you could."

"And then?" Yang Yang found it amusing that he had become the subject of an old couple's wager.

"We agreed that whoever loses has to do whatever the other asks."

"So now..."

"I hope you can make it." The Dutch Middle-aged Man said this very sincerely.

His honesty left Yang Yang speechless. Though he was curious about what the loser had to do, he felt it would be rude to ask—after all, it was a private matter between the couple.

"Time's about up. I've got a golf game scheduled—I should go."

The Dutch Middle-aged Man stood up from the bench, but before taking a step, he turned to look at Yang Yang beside him.

"At your current rate of improvement, in about another week, you should cut back on the juggling drills. Just focus on maintaining that feel for the ball. Don't juggle for the sake of juggling—being good at juggling won't make you good at matches."

He took one step, then seemed to remember something and turned back. "Oh, and one more thing—work more on your left foot."

With that, he left without a trace of reluctance.

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