You Really Mean It? If You Do, I'm Getting Up!

"You really mean it? If you do, I'm getting up!"

Taking advantage of Erik ten Hag sitting back down on the bench, Ayoub quietly asked, "Sir, can I start warming up now?"

When he had decided to start Tang Ye, ten Hag had told Ayoub that he would probably take Tang Ye off around the 60th minute and bring Ayoub on.

Ten Hag offered a brief reassurance, signaling for Ayoub not to rush.

That had indeed been what he thought when he talked about the kid that morning.

But now...

Tang Ye's rate of improvement had surpassed the Dutchman's expectations.

This Chinese kid was rapidly closing in on Eredivisie level.

Ten Hag had to take this seriously! The referee blew the whistle for the end of the first half. Thanks to goals from Tang Ye and Haller, Utrecht, playing away from home, led Sneek by two.

"Sir, can I start warming up now?"

Ayoub asked again. Ten Hag's answer was that there was no need to rush this.

No need to rush—but ten Hag had not said exactly when.

Ayoub was starting to feel the pressure.

It seemed ten Hag was not planning to give him a chance!

In the visitors' dressing room, ten Hag was summarizing the first half.

"Very good. Our tempo throughout the first half was excellent, especially in attack. We created some inventive attacking play, and that's what pleased me most."

As he said that, ten Hag's gaze involuntarily drifted toward Tang Ye.

Hehe!

Tang Ye noticed ten Hag looking his way, raised his brows, and suddenly sat up straight.

"I wasn't trying to praise you," ten Hag said coldly.

For ten Hag, handling a young player like Tang Ye was easy.

Young players needed encouragement.

But young players were young players, and lazy pigs were lazy pigs.

Praising a pig was useless. You had to kick it in the ass.

Make it run! "I think I played pretty well, though."

Tang Ye took a sip of water to ease the awkwardness.

Although his running distance in the first half was still the lowest on the team, he had scored, after all.

"Yeah, Tang really did..."

Haller put an arm around Tang Ye's shoulder, about to praise him a few times, only to be glared at by ten Hag.

"Okay, okay. Tang, you still need to work hard. Keep working hard."

Haller clapped his hands as ten Hag walked over to Tang Ye. "Buddy, you're still young. I need to tell you something. A football match is divided into two halves. Just because you can stay in great form in the first half doesn't mean you can stay that good in the second half."

Tang Ye stared at him with wide eyes, looking as though he did not quite understand. Ten Hag explained further, "You can score in the first half, but you might not score in the second. So you need to stay humble, understand? Humble!"

"Okay, okay."

Tang Ye nodded, looking as though he had taken ten Hag's words to heart.

"The second half is underway, brothers. The away side are currently two goals ahead, and Utrecht are still looking strong."

"You can add another bet. Let's watch the game first. The home side have made a substitution, while Utrecht's number six, Ayoub, is warming up."

"Utrecht are making a substitution?"

"Fuck, don't do this. You're leading, why are you making a change now? Ten Hag, fuck your mother, don't sub! Don't sub!"

Wang Chao was under enormous pressure, and the fans in the livestream were starting to curse too.

But ten Hag would not even listen to the shouts of the fans at the stadium, much less these guys in the Huanle livestream.

On camera, Mitchell van der Gaag exchanged a few words with the fourth official, who began changing the numbers on the substitution board.

"Ten Hag, fuck your mother. If you can't manage a team, get someone else to do it. Making a substitution now isn't just fucking stupid?"

"Get sacked! Eh, wait, Amrabat's coming on?"

"Good sub! That works, perfect substitution!"

"Brothers, ten Hag's substitution is smart. With a 2–0 lead, he's brought on the more attack-minded Ayoub."

"Utrecht are looking to extend their lead."

"If I were Sneek's coach, I'd probably be shaking by now. Tang Ye is still holding on!"

Normally, Tang Ye would have started to tire by the 50th minute, but he was still feeling pretty good now.

Jamie Vardy's Red Bull was kicking in!

62' Although Sneek had made the substitution in the second half, Utrecht still controlled the match.

Sneek striker Gonzalez put Tang Ye under immense pressure, but it did not do much good.

Because Tang Ye's teammates were stronger!

"Move forward!"

Ramselaar ran past Tang Ye from behind with the ball.

Tang Ye had originally wanted to combine with Ramselaar, but since the captain had said so, he could only run forward.

Watching Ramselaar on the pitch gave ten Hag a headache.

Utrecht did not have a possession-oriented midfielder, yet two players kept pretending to be possession-oriented midfielders.

One was the lazy pig Tang Ye. He would not even run, let alone keep possession.

The other was Ramselaar.

He could not keep possession, but he loved trying to! However, Sneek's players were not up to the task. They failed to seize the chance handed to them, and Ramselaar played the ball forward to Balazhit, who had made it to the byline.

Balazhit reaches the byline!

Balazhit is looking for an opportunity! Haller raised his hand on the left, but Balazhit was in no hurry.

Haller was being marked by two defenders. Passing now would just be giving away the chance.

Smack! Balazhit's pass reached Tang Ye's feet.

Hmm! Looking at the goal in front of him, Tang Ye was tempted, but he had no shooting angle.

After thinking it over, he gave up on shooting.

On camera, Tang Ye nudged the ball aside and began walking into the penalty area.

He was not running. He was walking!

"!!!"

Sneek's defenders panicked at the sight of Tang Ye looking so relaxed. Van der Veen moved in for a tackle, but stepped right on Tang Ye's ankle.

Fuck!

His native language slipped out. A sudden wave of pain swept through Tang Ye's body, and Utrecht's number 99 fell straight to the ground.

"Penalty!"

"Penalty! That's definitely a penalty!"

"King Tang wins a penalty in the box!"

Beep! The referee was decisive. Seeing Tang Ye go down, he ran straight over.

He raised his right hand.

And pointed to the spot! Ten Hag threw his arm up in celebration, but his expression quickly turned serious.

Looking at Tang Ye's face...

Fuck, don't tell me he's hurt?

"Hiss—!!!"

Tang Ye gritted his teeth in the penalty area, his brow tightly furrowed.

Getting tackled on the ankle hurt badly. Tang Ye was in a world of pain.

Haller ran over and shoved Van der Veen, who had just fouled Tang Ye, away. "Tang, are you okay? You take this penalty."

"Okay!"

Tang Ye suddenly sprang to his feet. "You really mean it?"

"No! You can't give it to him, you can't!"

Ten Hag shouted toward the pitch.

He had just said so much to Tang Ye at halftime.

Hadn't they agreed that he would not score in the second half?

Unfortunately, Sneek's goal was too far from ten Hag's position. Unless the Dutchman had a megaphone in his hand, Haller could not hear him.

"Of course I mean it. Hey, are you okay?"

Haller wanted to compete for a place on the Eredivisie scoring chart, but Dutch Cup goals were useless to him.

Since they were useless, he might as well give one to Tang Ye.

Once Tang Ye was happy, he would send him loads of passes in the Eredivisie!

"Just a minor issue."

Tang Ye planted his toes and pressed down hard a few times. Once he was back on his feet, it felt much better.

"Haller gives the penalty to Tang Ye!"

"Haller! You've got a bright future ahead of you, Haller!"

"Tang Ye!"

"To take it himself!"

On camera, Tang Ye wobbled toward the penalty spot, swaying left and right, making Luis feel a little dizzy.

Smack! A placed shot!

"Tang Ye, a brace!"

"Utrecht 3–0!"