Did I Name This?

Chapter 26: I Came Up With That Name?

The match started quickly, with Brazil launching a fierce attack against France right from the opening whistle.

Fernandez, that armchair analyst, had been spot-on in his assessment. Brazil was indeed a ferocious American lion.

But whether it was because France's midfield and defensive line were too solid, or because Brazil had bled and fought their way to the final and were running on empty, Brazil simply couldn't break through France's defense. Even Ronaldo looked out of sorts, at one point even suffering from leg cramps.

Slowly, the momentum on the field began to shift. France started transitioning from defense to attack, while Brazil scrambled to hold them off.

Just before halftime ended, Zidane headed the ball into the net, giving France a 1-0 lead.

The score had Brazilian fans at the stadium clutching their heads in disbelief, and left countless viewers in front of their TVs stunned.

Because of Brazil's dominance, and because of Ronaldo, many had been certain Brazil would win the final.

Quite a few had even treated it as an investment, pouring all their money into Brazil.

The odds were low, sure, but it was a sure thing!

Now, though, the situation was looking grim for them.

By halftime, their choice was... to borrow more money and keep betting.

Against the current, you either advance or get swept away. They couldn't afford to lose, so all they could do was hope Brazil would turn things around.

Brazil had Ronaldo, and they believed the tide would shift in the second half!

During the halftime break, the fans in the stands finally got a chance to rest.

They hadn't stopped cheering the entire first half; their throats were hoarse and their voices gone.

Sun Hao and Fernandez put down their binoculars and started snacking and drinking.

Both of them had barely concealed grins on their faces.

Fernandez was smug about his prediction—after all, very few people had foreseen this outcome.

Sun Hao, meanwhile, was just waiting to collect his winnings, the starting capital for his new life after transmigrating.

"Excuse me, could we borrow your binoculars? My wife wants to watch the halftime show."

Just then, a voice came from beside them.

Sun Hao turned his head and noticed for the first time that the people sitting next to him were a young couple. Judging by their features, they were likely from one of the countries in the Yugoslavia region.

The man was the one who had spoken.

Sun Hao agreed.

After a while, the binoculars were returned, along with a small bottle of liquor.

Human interaction is actually quite simple. Once one side shows goodwill, conversation naturally follows.

Sun Hao had lent them the binoculars, and the couple next to him started chatting with him.

He learned they were from Serbia, part of the Yugoslavia Union.

The Balkan Peninsula is rich in all kinds of fruit, which naturally leads to all kinds of fruit-infused spirits, known as Fruit Whiskey.

This little bottle was raspberry-infused.

Sun Hao took a sip and immediately choked.

He could tell right away it was strong liquor, so he didn't dare drink much. It was more fun to chat about the game and munch on snacks.

During their conversation, Sun Hao found out they were also supporting France, die-hard fans of Zidane.

And this young man named Sasha was also a basketball player.

That gave them even more to talk about, and by the end, they were chatting about everything under the sun.

The famous Italian opera composer Giacomo Puccini was his favorite, and Fiorentina was his favorite football club.

It might take a lifetime for women to go from strangers to confidantes, but for men, it can take just a few minutes.

After the halftime break, the second half officially began.

The couple next to them were already getting along famously, so the binoculars became a shared item.

The comeback that many fans had hoped for never materialized in the second half. In fact, the second half was downright shocking.

It wasn't just Ronaldo; the entire Brazilian team seemed to be sleepwalking while trailing.

Their first-half experience seemed to have stripped the American lion of its sharpest claws and fangs, turning it into a harmless kitten.

France began repeatedly attacking Brazil's back line.

That's when the weakness of Brazil's midfield and defense started to show.

Sampaio kept losing his position, Dunga was overwhelmed, and Baiano fully lived up to his reputation as a flop.

Brazil's goal was breached! Brazil's goal was breached again!

Looking at the 3-0 score on the board, the Brazilian fans in the stands fell silent.

Although there was still some time left in the match, the outcome was no longer in doubt.

The French fans at the stadium had already started celebrating.

Sun Hao was in high spirits too; his first pot of gold was already in hand.

During the final stretch of regular time and stoppage time, the Brazil team finally woke up and launched a counterattack, but time was no longer on their side.

They ultimately failed to breach France's goal, and the score on the board was frozen at 3-0.

When the final whistle sounded, Ronaldo dropped to his knees with his head tilted back, and the Stade de France erupted into a frenzy.

Players on the field began shouting and sprinting, and the crowd joined in the roar.

Before long, Sun Hao heard the French national anthem ringing in his ears.

The smile on Zidane, France's star player, could not be hidden.

What a joy it was to win the championship on home soil!

Sun Hao's mind involuntarily flashed back to the scene of the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games.

He understood even more now why Yao Ming, in history, had chosen to come back and play even knowing it might end his career.

To lift the World Championship trophy on home ground, in front of your own fans—that was the greatest pride an athlete could have!

At that moment, Sun Hao set a small goal for himself: he would lift the championship trophy on his own home turf.

The match was over, and the fans kept celebrating for over an hour before finally filing out.

Sun Hao followed them out, and they even had others take group photos with them outside the arena.

When it was time to part ways, Saša exchanged contact info with them and asked a question that showed he really considered Sun Hao a friend.

He and his wife were trying to conceive, and he felt he and Sun Hao got along well, so he wanted Sun Hao's opinion.

Sun Hao loved traveling, and after coming to Spain—especially after buying that big-ass computer—he had looked up plenty of travel guides online.

From their earlier conversations, he knew that although Saša was Yugoslavian, he loved Italian opera composers and the Italian football team.

The guy was practically Italian except for where he was born.

"Luka."

He finally gave his suggestion.

Lucca was a famous city in Italy, close to Florence, and the earlier-mentioned Giacomo Puccini was also from Lucca.

Plus, the name Luka was fairly common in Europe.

"Luka, Luka..."

Saša repeated the name, clearly liking it.

Just then, the taxi they had called pulled up.

The driver got out and smiled at them.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Dončić?"

"Yes, that's me. Sun, I'll be in touch."

Saša said goodbye to Sun Hao.

But he noticed Sun Hao was frozen in place.

The look on Sun Hao's face was as strange as it could get.

Right now, he felt like a herd of alpacas was stampeding through his mind.

Dončić?

Saša Dončić?

Luka Dončić...

Dončić's name... he came up with it?

Fernandez gave Sun Hao a shove, snapping him back to reality.

He smiled and waved goodbye to Saša.

After Saša and his family left, he remembered a dead-serious historical novel from his past life, A Step into the Past.

In that novel, the protagonist Xiang Shaolong's son ended up being named Yu—and the result was Xiang Yu.

Although the novel was just something later people made up and designed, he had just done the exact same damn thing!

He wondered what Dončić would think when he grew up and found out how his name came to be.

Back at the hotel, Fernandez was still going on excitedly about his predictions.

A thirteen-year-old kid who had pulled something off couldn't stop showing off until he talked himself out.

By the time he was tired and fell asleep, Sun Hao opened his laptop and logged into his account.

When he saw the number displayed after taxes, his smile was unstoppable.

13 million pesetas! Converted to future euros, that was 80,000 euros!

For a kid who was still "sixteen years old," that was already a huge fortune.

Actually, forget about kids—at this point in Europe's economy, that was the income of a white-collar worker for three or four years!

He'd suddenly turned into a little rich man!

Sure enough, transmigrators always made money with a flick of the wrist.

He was now very glad he hadn't given up on his ideals back then.

If it was just about making money, living life over again would be way too boring.

After all, money, once it reached a certain level, was just a string of numbers.

Money seemed all-powerful, but there were some things it couldn't buy.

Like a young body, or time.

Time flew by. Amid the intense training, the long offseason was about to end in the blink of an eye.

Sun Hao finished his training a week before the season started and reported to the first team early.

But the first thing he did when he got to the first team wasn't meeting his teammates—it was choosing his jersey number for the New Season with head coach Laso.

Back in the youth team, Sun Hao had worn the same jersey number as he did back home: number 6.

Back when he and Yi Jianlian were on the court together, the image was pretty fierce.

Later, at Plata and Oro, because his time there was short, his jersey numbers were different each time.

Now that he was on the first team, since number 6 was already taken, he had to pick a new one.

Thanks to Ren Taitao, Xian San Ren 2006, Duan Qiao Can Xue, and Xiang Lai Yuan Qian Nai He Qing Shen for the tips—thank you, big shots, for your support!

Continuing to beg for recommendation votes~ and chapter reviews~