第17章 用跑圈累死加图索(求推荐票月票)

"Hey, pal, I read in the papers that you guys were partying at the hotel until dawn?"

"I'll introduce you to some models when I have time, let you experience the passion of Italian girls," Filippo Inzaghi said with a laugh, draping an arm over Huang Kaiwen's shoulder.

He had truly found a kindred spirit.

"Don't corrupt our new guy, you jerk!"

Maldini walked up and delivered a kick to Inzaghi's backside.

Once Inzaghi scampered away with a cheeky grin, Maldini came over and said, "Don't go running around with that guy. The coach is right; you should show some restraint. You know Ronaldo, right? He's a super striker, but injuries don't show mercy just because you're a superstar. Even if he's performing okay at Real Madrid, I don't think much of his future. He's burned through too much energy off the pitch."

"Understood, Captain. I'll be careful."

Huang Kaiwen nodded.

"Boys, your performance was... truly shocking. I don't think I'd be any slower than Filippo even if I ran a hundred meters," Ancelotti said, still smiling.

"Boss, you're lying. If you've got the guts, run it yourself!"

Inzaghi protested indignantly.

Ancelotti ignored him completely. He looked over the data provided by the team doctor and continued to critique the first team: "It seems you really let yourselves go during the break. I'll make sure you get back to normal soon. We'll start with adaptive training today and increase the intensity in a few days. By the way, Gennaro, Kaiwen, and Dario, you're carrying injuries, so head to the sidelines or the gym."

The Milan players jeered again; they had already assumed Huang Kaiwen had been drained dry.

Gattuso pulled Huang Kaiwen and Simic aside and comforted Huang Kaiwen, saying, "Don't pay those jerks any mind. They don't mean any harm."

"Mm, I'm not angry. Everyone is very friendly."

"As long as you understand. That's just how Italians are."

Gattuso grumbled, as if he weren't Italian himself.

"I don't like the gym. How about a jog?"

Gattuso asked.

"Sure, I think a jog sounds good too."

Huang Kaiwen happily accepted Gattuso's suggestion.

Dario Simic glanced at Huang Kaiwen, thinking to himself that the kid was a sycophant.

Simic had previously played for Inter, and even after transferring to Milan for two seasons, he remained a fringe player in the locker room. Seeing Huang Kaiwen immediately hit it off with the local players stung him.

On the training pitch, the Milan players were playing keep-away.

The start of a new season always focused on low-intensity training to keep everyone in high spirits.

They were slowly adapting to the training intensity of professional players.

Around the year 2000, a holiday was a holiday. There weren't so many players doing extra training during their break and posting it on Instagram, so after more than a month off, the players' physical condition was worlds apart from mid-season form, with quite a few returning with little potbellies.

"Damn it, I'm a striker, I shouldn't be participating in tackling drills!"

Inzaghi, having been toyed with repeatedly, shouted at the top of his lungs.

His teammates turned a deaf ear, continuing to pass the ball around and tease Inzaghi with smiles on their faces.

Inzaghi chased after the ball. Shevchenko tapped it with his right foot and poked it with his left to Pirlo on the other side.

Pirlo held the ball until Inzaghi caught up before passing it out; his pass landed steadily at Maldini's feet.

Before Maldini could move, a frustrated Inzaghi used both hands and feet to tackle the Milan captain, successfully winning the ball.

"Your turn, Paolo!"

Inzaghi quickly pushed Maldini out, fearing the captain might refuse.

Maldini shook his head with a smile and walked into the middle.

"You cheater."

"Filippo is as dumb as a pig."

"If he didn't use his hands, we wouldn't have swapped out all day."

"Swapping is fine anyway; Filippo has zero presence in the middle, it doesn't help the drill at all."

The others mocked Inzaghi relentlessly.

"Jerks, what are you saying?" Filippo Inzaghi pointed at his teammates, indignant. "My physical condition just isn't good lately, understand? Otherwise, you would've been caught by me long ago."

"If your condition isn't good, you can go run laps with Gennaro and the others."

Pirlo didn't give him any face, still holding a grudge over the hundred-meter test.

Inzaghi looked toward the sidelines and immediately exclaimed, "Look, they're still running. Haven't they stopped?"

The other players looked over curiously. They had already been training on the pitch for over 20 minutes, and even at a jogging pace, that was no small intensity.

Simic, who had originally followed Huang Kaiwen and Gattuso to the sidelines, was already sitting down to rest, leaving only Huang Kaiwen and Gattuso on the track continuing to sweat.

Inzaghi waved at Simic and shouted, "Haven't they stopped yet? How many laps?"

"Six and a half."

Everyone was stunned.

The track at Milanello was 1,200 meters per lap, so six and a half laps was nearly 8,000 meters.

They had only been training for half an hour, and those two had already run that far?

Although for athletes, 10,000 meters in just over 30 minutes was standard, and top long-distance runners could even hit around 27 minutes, they weren't professional track athletes.

Simic walked over to explain to the starters, "They felt like it was interesting to run together; the two of them are competing, trying to see who can win."

"Really? He's actually trying to outlast Gennaro in endurance?"

Inzaghi's eyes lit up as soon as he heard that.

"Really. I couldn't keep up with them, so I'm resting for a bit. I'm still injured, after all."

Simic said, sounding a bit annoyed.

"Hehehe," Inzaghi beckoned to Pirlo and said, "You're annoyed, aren't you? Let's bet on who wins. 100 bucks."

"I bet on Gennaro," Pirlo said first.

"Hey, jerk, I wanted to bet on Gennaro!"

Inzaghi protested, feeling disgruntled.

The rest of the teammates joined in the commotion.

The personal feud between Inzaghi and Pirlo had turned Inzaghi into the bookie.

And they all felt Gattuso would win.

Inzaghi was bleeding internally.

It wasn't about the money, but losing to so many people at once—what would happen to his reputation?

The coaching staff was also drawn by the noise. After asking around, Ancelotti and his team joined in the betting as well.

Inzaghi, his expression growing numb, shouted at the sidelines, "Kaiwen, you have to push yourself! No one but me thinks you can win, don't let me down!!!"

At the 9th lap, Inzaghi yelled, "Kaiwen, keep going, kill Gennaro!!!"

At the 10th lap, Inzaghi shouted excitedly, "Kaiwen, Gennaro is already falling behind, you have to hold on!!!"

At the 11th lap, Inzaghi began trying to persuade a winded Gattuso to surrender: "Gennaro, don't keep going, you're no match for Kaiwen."

At the 13th lap, Gattuso's legs were clearly struggling, one step light and the next heavy. Inzaghi was thrilled and continued to urge him to quit: "Gennaro, don't force it. Look at Kaiwen, he's still full of energy. You'll hurt yourself if you keep going."

Gattuso, who had been ready to give up, gritted his teeth and kept running when he heard that.

However, by the time he returned to the starting point, Huang Kaiwen had already lapped him. Seeing no hope of victory, Gattuso simply gave up, squatting down with his hands on his knees, panting as he said, "Fine, fine, you win. You're tough."

Inzaghi cheered and charged at Huang Kaiwen, jumping directly onto his back and nearly causing him to stumble.

"You guys lost, you jerks!"

"Hahaha, you bunch of idiots, you have no eye for talent."

"Only I have the best eye; I knew Kaiwen could win."

"Kaiwen, you're really something."

On the sidelines of the Milanello training ground, only Inzaghi stood pointing at his teammates, laughing arrogantly.

Ancelotti was also very happy.

He hadn't realized before that Huang Kaiwen had such great endurance.

A talented player who was also physically gifted was too important for the team.

Perhaps he could let Huang Kaiwen play 45 matches this season.

With Huang Kaiwen and Kaka, Milan might be able to go undefeated and win the title, and perhaps even have a chance to challenge the 58-game unbeaten streak Milan had previously set.

When Milan set that unbeaten record, he, Ancelotti, was a Milan player.

To break the unbeaten record he helped set as a player while serving as the coach—just thinking about it was wonderful.

In the football world, besides him, Ancelotti, who else could possibly do that?