It's Time to Go On Stage

Saturday afternoon, an inter-school league match was underway on the campus football field of Baken Academy.

Since both teams competing today were from Almere, the match drew a large crowd of local fans, packing the field—which had no stands—to capacity.

The two teams were the hosts, Baken Academy, facing the established powerhouse Omnibus.

Baken Academy was a prestigious private school in Almere, but sports were never its strong suit. It wasn't until the rise of the local upstart Almere Club that Baken began a full partnership with their youth training, leveraging Almere's development system to boost the school team's strength.

But Almere had only been on the rise for less than seven years. Even with a youth training collaboration with Ajax, it hadn't yet come into its own. Omnibus, on the other hand, as a long-established school, had always fielded a strong team. In this match, they deliberately focused their marking on Baken's midfielder, Henk Dimer.

As the rising star of the Almere Youth Team, Henk Dimer was hailed as the first player with real potential to enter Ajax's Youth Training Camp. His skill level in Almere was head and shoulders above the rest, and his impact on the field was clear.

But under Omnibus's tight marking, and with insufficient support from his teammates, he found himself stretched thin, trapped in a helpless predicament with little chance to shine.

Meanwhile, Omnibus's left flank was playing with great energy, tearing through Baken's defense time and again. Early in the first half, they used the speed of their left winger to burst past the defensive line and send in a cross. The tall center forward in the box quickly followed up, leaping from a standstill to head the ball in from close range.

After conceding, Baken's play grew chaotic. Henk Dimer, in particular, became visibly impatient on the field, making frequent mistakes that Omnibus repeatedly exploited for counterattacks.

The first half ended with Omnibus leading by a single goal.

As the Baken players walked off the field, every one of them looked visibly frustrated, clearly dissatisfied with the first-half result.

As a rookie making his first appearance on the match roster, Yang Yang had mentally prepared himself not to play. But throughout the game, he kept his focus on the flow of the match, especially on the two players on Omnibus's left flank.

Omnibus was playing a 4-4-2 formation with a fairly simple tactic: once the ball reached the front, they would split it to the left, using the left midfielder's speed to charge behind the defense and whip in crosses to create threats.

Baken's problem was that their starting right-back, Nick, was injured and absent. The substitute lacked the quality and showed his nerves on the field, failing to perform at the required level. That was exactly what Omnibus latched onto, relentlessly attacking that side and generating danger.

Almere's Head Coach, John Rep, was also present at the match, but he mostly stayed on the sidelines. The on-field direction was still handled by Assistant Coach Dick Van Pool, who seemed to have recognized the issue. During halftime, he called all the players over to reorganize the right-side defense.

From start to finish, he never considered making a substitution.

"Why did you want to come watch this match?"

Among the fans watching from the sidelines, Trus Opameer asked the middle-aged Dutchman beside her with curiosity.

He had deliberately stayed away from football for nearly half a year. In those six months, he hadn't watched a single match. What surprised Trus was that, after all that time, the first game he chose to see was an amateurish inter-school match—about as far from professional as it got.

Why?

The Dutchman remained expressionless, staring at the home team's coaching area in the distance. Van Pool had gathered everyone around him, and behind him, John Rep was also offering advice. It seemed the old friend couldn't sit still either.

Trus was long used to her boyfriend's attitude. She rolled her eyes and turned away.

Standing next to her were three Chinese people. From the young girl's words, Trus gathered they were the family of the Chinese teenager who trained in the skateboard area. They had come specifically to cheer him on, but the boy remained firmly planted on the bench.

From the way things were going, it looked like he wouldn't get to play in this match.

If the starting players couldn't hold the line, putting in someone with even less skill and fundamentals would only make things worse.

But just then, a flash of insight struck Trus's mind. Could it be him?

"Did you come to this match just for him?" Trus asked, somewhat surprised.

The Dutchman neither confirmed nor denied it. "I'm concerned about our bet."

But that excuse was too flimsy. Trus didn't believe it for a second, and it only made her more curious.

What was so special about this Chinese teenager that he would come all the way to watch his game?

"You're bound to be disappointed. He probably won't play in this match," Trus said, shaking her head.

But to her surprise, the Dutchman replied calmly, "The match isn't over yet. Who knows?"

Trus rolled her eyes again, full of exasperation, but deep down, she felt a flicker of delight.

He was finally starting to perk up.

The second half resumed.

Omnibus stuck to their first-half strategy: tight marking on Henk Dimer in midfield, and relentlessly attacking Baken's right flank on the counter. They seemed almost merciless in their persistence.

Both John Rep and Dick Van Pool felt helpless about it, but there was little they could do.

Their weak right side had run straight into the barrel of Omnibus's strong left flank. It would have been strange if Omnibus didn't exploit it.

"They've clearly studied us thoroughly," Dick Van Pool said, shaking his head in frustration.

Even though it was just a youth team match in an obscure inter-school game, it was still his first time leading independently, and he naturally didn't want to lose.

But looking at the situation on the field, and then at his bench, who else could he trust?

Just as he was stewing in his frustration, an Omnibus player intercepted the ball in midfield. Henk Dimer failed to pass it in time, and after losing possession, he didn't press immediately. The opponent carried the ball forward, launched a counterattack, and once again sent it to the left.

What followed was almost a replay of the first goal. Omnibus crossed from the left, the tall center forward won the first header, but this time it hit a defender. However, an opposing forward pounced on the rebound and slotted it home.

Zero to two. Baken Academy's fate was sealed.

Although he didn't get to play, this was still his first time sitting on the substitutes' bench, so Yang Yang naturally hoped the team would have good luck.

Maybe if the team won, the head coach would put him on the roster for the next match?

But unexpectedly, when the team faced their fierce local rivals, they were utterly overwhelmed with no power to resist.

Watching the teammates on the pitch who usually tormented him mercilessly in training, now unable to show even half the form they displayed in practice—especially Henk Dimer, who was stumbling around like a headless fly, with none of the flair of the team's usual star player—Yang Yang felt a shift.

Back in China, he had always been the top player on his team and never really noticed it, but sitting on the bench now, he suddenly realized that even someone as strong as Henk Dimer, when left to fight alone, couldn't perform at his best no matter how skilled he was.

At the end of the day, football is a game of eleven players; one man against eleven can never succeed.

Not getting to play didn't mean Yang Yang wasn't learning.

Old Bing had given him a task before the match: focus on observing the game's flow while thinking through three questions—if it were me, how would I run? How would I receive the ball? What would I do after receiving it?

These three questions seemed simple on the surface, but combined with the massive amount of information and the ever-changing match situation, even with the help of God's Perspective, Yang Yang found his head spinning. He often couldn't keep up and ended up concentrating solely on the two players on the right flank.

It was precisely because of this that he noticed the right-back who came on as a substitute was playing terribly, not even reaching half the level he showed in daily training.

The match had been going on for over an hour, with Omnibus leading the hosts Baken Academy 2-0. This was a heavy blow to the home team, while the visitors were riding high on morale, looking ready to crush Baken Academy in one fell swoop.

But just as everyone feared Baken Academy might collapse like a landslide, another incident occurred on the pitch.

During a defensive play to intercept a through ball, the Baken Academy right-back was racing against the opposing left midfielder for speed. Although he managed to get to the ball first, he collided with the opponent, tumbled to the ground, and didn't get up from the grass.

The fans on the sidelines erupted in commotion.

The main referee quickly paused the match and signaled for the team doctor to come on. Soon after, a stretcher followed, carrying the Baken Academy right-back off the pitch. The initial diagnosis was a sprain.

When it rains, it pours.

The fans supporting Baken Academy on the sidelines shook their heads in disappointment, clearly feeling hopeless about this match.

Both right-backs were injured. Facing Omnibus's strong left flank, how could they keep playing?

Dick Van Pool was equally troubled. The Dutchman, with his brow furrowed, clenched his fists tightly. He knew he had to make a decision in the shortest time possible.

A substitution was necessary—there was no way around it.

But the key question was: who to bring on?

Put on a center-back?

That would seal the loss, and everyone would think his decision was too conservative.

Dick Van Pool's gaze swept over the substitutes' bench, his eyes full of hesitation. None of them seemed suitable.

In the end, his eyes landed on Yang Yang.

This Chinese teenager had been improving lately, especially in defense, where he had repeatedly shown impressive tackles. He also had plenty of stamina and was fast. Sending him on now might just hold the defense for the remaining half hour.

With that thought, Dick Van Pool gritted his teeth, deciding to try a desperate measure. He pointed at Yang Yang.

"Yang, take off your jacket. You're going in as right-back."

"Huh?" Yang Yang couldn't believe his ears. He stood up from his seat and stared at Dick Van Pool.

He was being sent on as a substitute at a time like this?

"I believe in you, Yang. You can handle it," Dick Van Pool encouraged.

But even he found his own words hollow, and Yang Yang certainly didn't buy them.

"Anyway, once you're out there, don't overthink it. Just do one thing: defend. Stick to their left midfielder. Figure out the rest on your own."

After saying that, Dick Van Pool gave Yang Yang a firm pat on the shoulder and pushed him to the sideline.

Yang Yang's head was still spinning. He hadn't expected to actually get on the pitch.

It wasn't until he stood by the sideline and saw his uncle's family of three across the field waving at him and shouting encouragement that he smiled slightly and his mind cleared.

Yeah, it was finally his turn to play.

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