A Brand-New Tang Long, Fresh Off the Presses! Mancini's Soul-Searching Question for Chivu!

Someone came in, and naturally someone else had to leave.

Alvaro Pereira, Krhin, Mbaye, Osvaldo, M'Vila, and others had either gone out on loan or returned to their original clubs when their loan spells ended.

This winter, although there hadn't been much money flowing in or out of Inter Milan's first team, there had still been plenty of movement among the players.

The first-team regulars felt a certain sense of crisis.

Especially their starting center forward, Icardi!

Before Osvaldo left, he hadn't worried about his place in the starting lineup.

Osvaldo was his compatriot, they got along well, and he wasn't as good as Icardi, nor did he have much ambition to fight for a starting spot.

But Podolski was different!

In terms of fame, when Poldi was tearing it up for Cologne and Bayern, Icardi was still at La Masia's youth academy.

So, as soon as he returned to the team, Icardi couldn't hold back. He ignored captain Ranocchia's advice and went straight to the head coach's office.

"Mr. Mancini, I'd like to talk to you."

"What would you like to talk about?"

"I want to know where I stand on the team. I want to win the Serie A Golden Boot. I want to..."

Mancini cut Icardi off.

"Mauro, I promise you'll win the Serie A Golden Boot and become the youngest top scorer in the league's hundred-year history. Don't worry."

"Could you give Tang more playing time? I really enjoy playing with him. He always finds a way to get the ball to my feet."

"I'll consider it."

Mancini's quick agreement took Icardi by surprise. He'd expected a heated argument, but the conversation had gone more smoothly than he'd imagined.

Satisfied, Icardi left the head coach's office.

Chivu came in right after him.

He excitedly waved around the training plan he'd drawn up for Tang Long.

As he animatedly described how much Tang Long had improved over the break, Mancini remained skeptical.

But that afternoon, the first training session after the winter break confirmed Chivu's claims.

Tang Long had clearly bulked up. As a result, his challenges and runs were a step quicker than before.

His teammates were surprised, too.

Especially captain Ranocchia!

In the past, when he'd been up against Tang Long, he could rely on his considerable physical advantage—he was a head taller—and give Tang a slight nudge from behind. Tang would then struggle to control the ball.

But during training that day, Ranocchia found that the trick no longer worked!

He had to use more than eighty percent of his strength just to disrupt Tang's first touch, and even then, it didn't work every time.

A few times, Tang even caught him off guard, used his shoulder to create space, turned, and sent a through ball to Icardi.

"That kid's clearly gotten stronger!"

That was Ranocchia's takeaway.

"Tang's no weaker than I am physically!"

Kovacic and Hernanes, technical midfielders like themselves, also felt they had no clear advantage over Tang in physical duels.

After their first training session back, all the players went to the medical room to have their stats measured.

Although many of the players had stayed fairly professional and gone running even as they ate and drank over the winter break, quite a few of them had only put on a show for social media.

They'd hop on an exercise bike, pedal a couple of times, and ask a friend to take a photo. They'd stare intently ahead, then post it with a caption:

[Still training during the break. This is my life, every day.]

Their fans would shower them with likes~

But they knew perfectly well whether they'd actually trained!

No one had trained through the entire winter break like Tang Long.

After all, the medical room's scales never lied.

Almost everyone had gained between two and four kilograms.

Guarin had changed the most.

The Colombian star already loved eating large amounts of red meat. Over the break, he'd also drunk who knew how much beer on the beaches of Rio with a few Brazilian buddies.

Maybe the hat trick he'd scored before the final game of the winter break had gone to his head. He'd gotten carried away!

He hadn't watched his figure at all during the break and had gained a full six kilograms! His weight had shot past ninety kilograms, making him the biggest player at Inter Milan.

His body fat had even climbed to 17%!

He had a visible spare tire around his waist, and whenever he bent over, the fat on his stomach folded over itself.

His once rock-hard six-pack had turned into one soft, squishy lump. It was almost cute~

That had third-choice goalkeeper Berni roaring with laughter!

He went over and patted Guarin's belly. It made a satisfying thumping sound, like he was knocking on a plump, juicy watermelon~

"Report, Mr. Mancini!" Berni proudly lifted his shirt and turned in a circle. "I've still got a four-pack. I'd like to apply to play attacking midfield!"

Everyone burst out laughing!

Guarin was furious and embarrassed. He glared at Berni, but didn't dare do anything to the wily old third-choice keeper.

Mancini was furious about it.

In front of the whole team, he warned Guarin:

"When your body fat is below 10%, you can play again!"

"And that goes for everyone else, too." Mancini's gaze swept across their faces like a whip. "Anyone with a body-fat percentage above 10% won't be included in the squad for our next match against Bologna!"

Tang Long was the only one whose physical stats hadn't declined—in fact, they'd improved!

Tang Long was now 182 centimeters tall and weighed 75 kilograms, a very standard weight for a young player.

It gave him enough strength to hold his own while still keeping him agile.

Tang Long's body-fat percentage hadn't changed. It was still 9.5%, but he'd visibly bulked up.

"Tang, your size M jersey looks a little tight on you now. You should wear an L from now on!"

The thoughtful kit manager changed Tang Long's jersey for him.

Over the next three days,

No one needed to push them. The players trained like mad, drenched in sweat.

In the end, everyone except Guarin got their body fat below the 10% limit.

The day before the match, for some reason, Mancini bypassed assistant coach Herrera and spoke with Chivu alone about the starting lineup.

Chivu's suggestion was that, since Guarin wasn't in shape to play, Tang Long could start in the attacking midfield role in their 4-3-1-2 formation.

"Mr. Mancini, Tang's best position is linking up with the forwards. I used to worry about his stamina and physicality, but now it's clear he's improved far beyond our expectations."

Chivu looked at Mancini, full of hope.

"We can try starting him. You've done well. Tang really is a rough diamond," Mancini said with a smile. "Under your careful guidance, he's improved quickly."

Chivu's face beamed with confidence. "I was right about him. The kid's vision is world-class. As long as he builds up his physique and works on a few of his basic skills, he'll have what it takes to start for Inter Milan."

Mancini didn't answer right away.

He lit a cigar and took a thoughtful puff.

"Christian, since you knew Tang had so many weaknesses, why didn't you work on them before sending him up to the first team? You and he were both in the U19 team back then."

Chivu froze, then smiled sheepishly.

"Nothing gets past you, Mr. Mancini!"

"To be honest, the day I recommended Tang for the first team, I was already on my way out of the youth team. Laino kept sending reports about me to Ausilio every day. Did he think I wouldn't find out? I could have left at any moment. All I wanted was to make sure the most talented player on the team got in front of you before I left—as soon as possible! I wasn't sure whether my old-fashioned partner, Laino, could even recognize Tang's talent."

Mancini raised an eyebrow. "But what did you stand to gain from that? Promoting Tang wouldn't do anything for you."

Chivu ran a hand through the long hair at his temple.

A deep pink, semicircular scar was still clearly visible beneath his thick hair.

It was the scar from surgery to repair his skull.

"In January 2010, during a match against Chievo, I collided heads with Pellissier while we were challenging for the ball. I heard a sound then—the sound of my head bursting open. For a moment, I thought I was going to die.

Lying there on the ground, I'd never felt the grass so cold. I thought about my wife and my children. The past thirty years of my life flashed before my eyes like a movie.

The surgery went smoothly. I'm grateful to President Moratti. He sent a private jet from Milan to bring in the best specialists.

But the night after the operation, in the intensive care unit, was a nightmare. Every hour, someone would wake me, shine a bright light in my eyes, and ask my name, where I was, and why I was there... over and over again.

They were afraid I'd lose consciousness. They told me that if I lost consciousness that night, I'd never wake up again!

The doctors decided to operate on my head and remove the bone fragments inside. They told me that if I chose conservative treatment, I wouldn't be in any danger, but I'd have to say goodbye to football. If I wanted to keep playing, they'd have to remove all the fragments in one go. That carried serious risks and could even leave me with permanent neurological damage that would affect me for the rest of my life!

They told me to choose. My wife, Adelina, was sitting beside me then. She cried and held me, begging me to choose conservative treatment. But I answered without hesitation: I want to play football. I want to keep playing for Inter Milan!"

As Chivu spoke, tears welled in his eyes.

"I love this club, Inter Milan. If I'm a youth coach here, then a talented player like Tang mustn't be allowed to go undiscovered under my watch! That's my answer, Mr. Mancini."