NOVEL NEXT Chapter 173: A Legacy in Motion
The locker room was silent. No one spoke.
The players sat in quiet anticipation, some glancing up occasionally, their eyes inevitably drawn to Yang Yang.
After finishing pre-match warm-ups, Yang Yang had been the first to prepare himself. Now, he sat in front of his locker, head tilted back, resting against the cool metal. His eyes were closed, his expression unreadable.
Was he feeling the pressure?
Of course, and it was immense.
Professional football was inherently a high-pressure stage, where players performed under the watchful eyes of tens of thousands of fans. For those with even the slightest fragility in composure, simply standing on the pitch could feel overwhelming, let alone performing at their best.
For a star like Yang Yang, pressure was a constant companion, something he had grown accustomed to. But tonight wasn't like any other match. This was different. Tonight, Yang Yang was not just a player—he was the focal point, carrying the hopes of the team, the fans, and even his country.
The weight of expectation was unimaginable. The players couldn't fully comprehend it, but they could sense its gravity.
Was it too much for him?
No one in the room had an answer. Only Yang Yang could provide one—on the pitch.
The piercing sound of the referee's bell echoed through the locker room, breaking the heavy silence. It was the first call, signaling time to prepare.
The players stirred, shaking off their pensive states. They began their final checks, adjusting their kit, lacing their boots, and focusing their minds.
Yang Yang opened his eyes. His gaze fell immediately on the colorful bracelet wrapped around his left wrist. The threads felt rough against his skin, the handiwork clearly amateur, but its simplicity grounded him.
It brought him a sense of calm, a quiet reassurance.
He could almost hear Su Ye's voice, soft and encouraging: This lucky hand rope will bring you good fortune.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Yang Yang reached into the side pocket of his bag, retrieved his phone, and opened the QQ app. He quickly sent Su Ye a message, simple and direct, before setting the phone down and closing the locker door.
When he turned back, he noticed his teammates watching him. Their expressions were a mixture of curiosity and quiet support, as if waiting for him to speak.
"Hi," Yang Yang said, breaking the tension with a deliberate smile. He tried to inject some lightness into the heavy atmosphere. "No need to be so tense. Just play like we always do. You don't have to accommodate me—winning is the priority."
The players nodded, their determination reigniting in their eyes.
One voice broke the silence. "I believe in you, buddy. Give it your all—you'll score, no doubt!"
Another chimed in, "We'll back you every step of the way."
"Come on! We all know you've got this!"
"You're more than ready!"
"You've got our trust—just play your game!"
The words of encouragement poured out, each one a boost to Yang Yang's spirit.
He felt a surge of warmth as he looked around at his teammates. These weren't just words; they were genuine expressions of faith and camaraderie.
"Thanks, everyone," Yang Yang said sincerely.
He extended his right hand into the circle. Without hesitation, his teammates stacked their hands on top, a gesture of unity and shared purpose.
With one strong motion, they raised their hands together and shouted, "Let's go!"
The second bell rang, sharp and insistent.
It was time.
Yang Yang stood, his gaze steady and resolute. The moment had arrived. He would meet the challenge head-on—not just for himself but for the team that believed in him.
They walked out of the locker room together, ready to take the stage.
...
...
"Thank you for the hand rope. I'm heading out to play—cheer for me!"
Su Ye, sitting in her home in Beijing, received Yang Yang's text just as the live broadcast cut to the players' tunnel.
On screen, the Ajax and Groningen players stood in two orderly rows, waiting for the signal to walk onto the pitch. Su Ye's eyes immediately searched the crowd, quickly spotting Yang Yang at the back of the Ajax line.
He stood tall, his expression steely and focused. The weight of the occasion was etched on his face, yet there was a quiet determination in his demeanor. The pressure of the game was undeniable, but Yang Yang looked ready to confront it head-on.
Across the room, Su Ye's father, Su Wenhong, was fully engrossed in the live broadcast, eyes fixed on the television. Her mother, however, noticed Su Ye glancing at her phone.
"Who sent you a message at this time?" her mother asked curiously.
Su Ye hastily turned off the screen and smiled. "Oh, it's nothing. Let's just watch the game."
She redirected her attention to the TV, where the live feed had zoomed in for a close-up of Yang Yang. The camera lingered on him, capturing the tension and focus in his eyes as he adjusted the lucky hand rope on his wrist.
Watching him, Su Ye whispered quietly to herself, "Come on, Yang Yang. You're going to score—I know you will! I believe in you."
Her words, though soft, carried the weight of unshakable belief, bridging the distance between Beijing and Amsterdam.
...
...
The two teams entered the pitch one after the other, greeted by the roaring waves of over 50,000 fans packed into the Amsterdam Arena.
Under the leadership of referee Tom van Sichem, the players marched onto the field, their focus unwavering despite the deafening cheers and chants that echoed through the stadium.
"At the forefront is tonight's referee, Tom van Sichem," the commentator's voice boomed over the broadcast.
"This 36-year-old referee is relatively young in officiating terms, and this season marks his third in the Eredivisie. Tonight is his 17th match in charge this season. Over the course of his assignments, he's issued seven yellow cards, three direct red cards, and one cumulative red card, which reflects his strict approach to enforcement."
The commentator continued, delving into Van Sichem's history with both teams. "In the 17 matches he's officiated, both Groningen and Ajax have appeared once under his watch. Groningen faced Willem II in an away match earlier this season, losing 4-2. That match saw Van Sichem issue four yellow cards—three to Groningen and just one to Willem II."
"In contrast, Ajax's experience with Van Sichem was a 1-0 home victory against Vitesse. In that game, all three yellow cards went to Vitesse, highlighting Van Sichem's consistency in applying a strict standard of discipline."
Despite this, Groningen head coach Ron Jans had expressed confidence in Van Sichem's officiating ahead of the match, emphasizing his faith in the referee's ability to handle such a high-stakes game.
After the referee's profile, the broadcast shifted focus to the lineups, giving particular attention to Ajax's starting eleven.
The live camera lingered on Yang Yang, his face calm yet resolute. The crowd responded with thunderous applause, and banners bearing his name and slogans in his support waved throughout the stands.
"Ajax fans have come out in force tonight, many carrying banners and signs to show their unwavering support for Yang Yang. They are full of belief in their star player, hoping he can replicate his phenomenal performances from the past two games. Their dream? For Yang Yang to outscore Dirk Kuyt tonight and become the youngest Eredivisie Golden Boot winner in history."
The pre-match coin toss saw Groningen win the right to kick off. As Ajax players moved to position themselves in their own half, Groningen prepared to start the action.
On the sidelines, Ronald Koeman clapped his hands vigorously, shouting instructions to his players. His voice rang out above the din of the crowd, urging his team to maintain focus and give their all.
It was clear that the Ajax manager was treating this game with the utmost seriousness. This was more than a match—it was a defining moment for the team, the fans, and most of all, for Yang Yang.
...
...
As the clock struck 1:30, referee Tom van Sichem blew the whistle to begin the match.
Groningen took the kickoff, but Ajax wasted no time asserting their dominance. The front three, led by Yang Yang, surged forward aggressively, immediately pressuring Groningen's backline.
This relentless, high-intensity pressing was a hallmark of Ajax's Eredivisie play. They never shied away from taking the initiative, regardless of the opponent.
Groningen, true to expectations, chose to retreat. While they initially managed to maintain possession, Ajax's pressure forced an early turnover, pushing Groningen back into their own half.
Groningen's position in the league table reflected their inconsistency this season. Sitting in 12th place, they boasted the 7th-best goal-scoring record but also ranked 13th in goals conceded—a clear indicator of their defensive fragility. This lack of stability had earned them a reputation as a "nerve knife" team, unpredictable and prone to wild swings in performance.
Ajax, on the other hand, were clear favorites. Their superior overall quality and deep familiarity with Groningen's tactics—typical among Dutch football teams—made a home victory seem like a foregone conclusion before kickoff.
Yet, Groningen had one clear objective: frustrate Ajax with a conservative defensive counterattack strategy. While Ajax's dominance was expected, breaking down such a stubborn defense would be no easy task. Groningen were resilient enough to avoid being easily overwhelmed.
The first ten minutes of the game were a one-sided affair. Ajax controlled possession, building wave after wave of attacks, while Groningen hunkered down in their penalty area, intent on keeping their goal intact.
Despite Ajax's aggressive start, impatience began to creep in. Their attacks lacked sharpness, and clear-cut chances were hard to come by. Yang Yang managed three shots in the opening 15 minutes—two of them speculative long-range efforts—but none seriously tested Groningen goalkeeper Bas Roorda.
"Yang Yang seems a bit impatient," the commentator observed. "This isn't quite like his usual composed style. But given the magnitude of this game, it's understandable that emotions might be running high. He needs to find his rhythm and steady himself."
On the pitch, Wesley Sneijder noticed the same issue. The midfield maestro quickly signaled for Steven Pienaar to slow down the pace, urging the team to adopt a more measured approach.
Groningen had clearly done their homework, especially on the defensive end. Their compact, disciplined lines left Ajax struggling to find openings. Sneijder recognized that maintaining a frenetic tempo would only drain Ajax's energy and increase the likelihood of mistakes.
The strategy shifted. Ajax began circulating the ball patiently around Groningen's 30-meter zone, probing for weaknesses. Yet Groningen refused to take the bait. They stayed deep, compact, and resolute, showing no interest in breaking their defensive shape.
Time ticked away, and frustration grew. Ajax's attacks remained fruitless, and Groningen's strategy of stifling play seemed to be working. By the 30th minute, Ajax launched yet another promising offensive move, only for it to falter against Groningen's impenetrable wall.
Groningen's intentions were clear: this wasn't just about avoiding defeat. They wanted to snuff out Ajax's title celebrations and, more importantly, silence Yang Yang. A successful "sniping" of both Ajax and Yang Yang would bring them notoriety and pride.
Yang Yang, who had been visibly agitated in the early stages, began to find his composure. The initial eagerness to overwhelm Groningen had given way to a more measured mindset. The opposition's resilience, though frustrating, had forced him to adapt.
Gradually, Yang Yang's movements became sharper and more calculated. Ajax's formation pressed higher, maintaining control in Groningen's half. The team passed the ball patiently, testing the defensive line and waiting for a crack to appear.
The fans in the Amsterdam Arena, though eager for a breakthrough, remained unyielding in their support. They knew their team was playing the long game, applying relentless pressure in the hope of forcing Groningen into an error.
And then, the opportunity came.
In the second minute of first-half stoppage time, Ajax's persistence finally paid off. The crowd erupted, sensing the decisive moment had arrived.
...
Ajax shifted the ball to the right, where Yang Yang positioned himself near the edge of the penalty area.
"Yang Yang receives the ball at the right corner of the penalty area—one-on-one!" the commentator's voice rose with excitement.
The crowd buzzed as Yang Yang faced his defender, eyes locked on his opponent. With a sharp step-over, he shifted his weight, feinting to one side before accelerating past the defender.
"Brilliant footwork! Yang Yang dribbles past his man effortlessly!"
The defender scrambled to recover, but Yang Yang was already driving toward the byline. With precision, he swung his right foot, delivering a whipped cross into the heart of the penalty area.
"Yang Yang gets to the byline and delivers a dangerous ball into the box!"
Groningen's center-back, Gibril Sankoh, tracked the cross closely, positioning himself perfectly. Leaping above the Ajax attackers, he met the ball with a strong header, clearing it high and far.
"Sankoh rises to meet it—excellent defensive clearance!"
The ball soared beyond the penalty area, landing in the midfield as Groningen's players scrambled to reorganize. Ajax, however, were quick to react, immediately pressing forward to regain possession.
...
Two consecutive clearances from Groningen pushed the ball near the center line, where Ajax's last man, Johnny Heitinga, calmly gained control. He steadied the play, quickly passing the ball back into Groningen's half, where Maicon picked it up on the right flank.
As Maicon received the ball, he lifted his head to assess the situation in the penalty area. Something had shifted.
After his earlier clearance, Sankoh had moved slightly out of position, leaving Charisteas marked by the young Groningen defender, 20-year-old Arnold Kruiswijk. At 1.82 meters, Kruiswijk was known for his agility and ball skills, but aerial duels were not his strong suit.
Maicon immediately recognized the mismatch. With Charisteas holding his position in the penalty area, Maicon adjusted his stride, delivering a pinpoint cross at a 45-degree angle toward the Greek forward.
"Maicon sends a dangerous ball into the box!"
Charisteas read the delivery perfectly. Bracing himself against Kruiswijk, he leapt high, his imposing frame towering over the young defender. The Greek striker angled his header toward the bottom-right corner, aiming to catch goalkeeper Bas Roorda off guard.
Charisteas's effort was powerful, but Maicon's cross had come from a greater distance, giving Roorda and Sankoh just enough time to react.
"Header from Charisteas!"
Roorda launched himself at full stretch, meeting the ball with a firm punch. The ball ricocheted away from the goal, bouncing to the right side of the penalty area.
"Roorda with a fantastic save!"
Even as the ball rebounded, Yang Yang was already on the move. Anticipating the opportunity from Maicon's initial cross, he had surged into the box, positioning himself perfectly for the loose ball.
Eyes locked on the bouncing ball, Yang Yang darted forward. Sankoh scrambled to close him down, but Yang Yang reached it first. With a controlled motion, he struck the ball with the inside of his right foot, prioritizing accuracy over power.
The shot was clean, slicing through the crowded penalty area. Roorda, still recovering from his punch save, could only watch as the ball flew past him into the back of the net.
"GOAL!!!"
"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!!!"
"In stoppage time at the end of the first half, Yang Yang breaks the deadlock! His persistence pays off with a fantastic goal!"
The stadium erupted. Fans leapt to their feet, their cheers reverberating through the Amsterdam Arena as Yang Yang sprinted toward the stands. Overcome with emotion, he vaulted over the advertising boards and rushed to the crowd, arms spread wide as he roared in celebration.
1-0!
Yang Yang had done it.
In the stands, fans screamed his name, waving scarves and banners in wild celebration. Some even reached out, trying to grab him for a hug.
"Magnificent!" the commentator exclaimed. "Yang Yang seizes the moment in spectacular fashion!"
"This goal came at the perfect time!"
"Ajax's relentless first-half effort finally pays off, and it's Yang Yang who delivers with his fifth shot of the game!"
"And that's his 32nd league goal this season, bringing him one step closer to the Eredivisie Golden Boot!"
Yang Yang finally broke free from the jubilant fans and was swarmed by his teammates, their arms wrapping around him in shared triumph. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, his voice cutting through the noise.
"There's still the second half! Keep pushing—we can do this!" he urged, his focus already shifting back to the task ahead.
The first goal had been the hardest to get, but it was done. With Groningen's defensive stamina already being tested, Yang Yang knew their resistance would weaken further in the second half. As fatigue set in, their focus would waver, and mistakes would follow.
He could feel it: the second half would bring more opportunities.
...
...
When Yang Yang's stunning goal at the Amsterdam Arena echoed across the world through live broadcasts, it sparked an immediate reaction among fans and netizens, particularly in China, where his growing legend ignited fierce excitement.
Meanwhile, in Nijmegen, Feyenoord's away match against NEC had just reached halftime. The scoreboard remained unchanged at 0-0, with neither side managing to break the deadlock.
As the Feyenoord players walked back to the locker room, heads slightly bowed from the frustrating first half, the coaching staff delivered the news.
"Yang Yang scored," announced head coach Ruud Gullit, relaying the latest update from Amsterdam.
The locker room erupted.
"What?"
"Yang Yang scored?"
"When did that happen?"
"But I thought he hadn't scored yet!"
The disbelief rippled through the players, their eyes darting toward Gullit for clarification. Even Kuyt, usually composed, looked stunned, his face reflecting a mix of frustration and disbelief.
Gullit, clearly aware of the weight this news carried, gave a firm nod. "It happened just before halftime—during stoppage time."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
The Feyenoord players exchanged glances, but all their focus eventually settled on Kuyt. The striker, Feyenoord's talisman and Yang Yang's primary rival for the Golden Boot, sat motionless. His expression turned grim, his jaw tightening.
In the first half, Kuyt had done everything expected of him. He had run tirelessly, created space for his teammates, and worked to carve out chances. His teammates had provided him with seven opportunities to face NEC's goal directly. Yet, six of those efforts went wide, and the single attempt on target was easily saved.
Kuyt knew his performance wasn't good enough. Despite his efforts, he felt uncharacteristically flat, unable to summon the fiery determination that usually drove him. It was as though something crucial was missing—a spark, a sense of urgency.
And now, Yang Yang had scored.
This meant the Ajax forward had pulled ahead, taking the lead in the Golden Boot race by one goal.
The weight of the realization bore down on Kuyt, and the room stayed quiet, his teammates choosing not to disturb him. They understood the pressure he was under.
After a few moments, Gullit broke the silence, his voice calm but commanding.
"Nijmegen is playing a tough game, exactly as we expected. They're disciplined, tenacious, and hard to break down. But this is nothing we didn't prepare for. The deadlock in the first half was part of our expectations," he said, meeting the eyes of his players.
The team nodded, acknowledging his words. Nijmegen was notorious for being a difficult team to face at home, even for a side as strong as Feyenoord.
Gullit continued. "Their central defender, Arjan Ebbinge, will be key for us in the second half. He's already on a yellow card, and we need to exploit that. Force him into situations where he has to take risks. That's our opening."
The players murmured in agreement, but Gullit's attention shifted to Kuyt.
"Dirk," he began, his tone firm, "you need to forget about Yang Yang right now. Stop thinking about whether he's scored or how many he's scored. The only thing that matters is this: if you score more than him, you will be the Golden Boot winner. It's that simple."
The clarity of Gullit's words seemed to cut through Kuyt's haze of doubt. The striker straightened, his expression hardening as a renewed determination flickered in his eyes.
He nodded slowly, his mind working through the possibilities. Yang Yang's lead was only by one goal. All Kuyt had to do was outscore him in this match, and the Golden Boot would still be his.
"Two goals," Kuyt muttered to himself, almost as if testing the thought. "That's nothing. I've scored hat-tricks before—why not today?"
His focus sharpened. A hat-trick would guarantee him the Golden Boot, no matter what Yang Yang did in Amsterdam.
Kuyt met Gullit's eyes and gave a firm nod. "I know," he said, his voice steady.
The second half awaited. It was time to fight back.
...
...
Kuyt didn't score.
This was the news Yang Yang received from the coaching staff during halftime.
Not only had Kuyt failed to find the back of the net, but Feyenoord as a whole had been unable to break through Nijmegen's defense. The score remained deadlocked at 0-0.
It was good news for Ajax, but Yang Yang refused to let his guard down. There was still an entire second half to play, and Feyenoord had proven time and again this season that they could strike at any moment.
Failure to score in the first half didn't mean Kuyt wouldn't deliver in the second. Feyenoord's relentless attacking style made them the most dangerous offensive team in the Netherlands. A quick burst of brilliance, and Kuyt could bag two or three goals in no time.
With this in mind, Ajax returned to the pitch with renewed determination. They immediately resumed their high-pressing, attacking approach, pinning Groningen deep in their own half.
In the stands, Ajax fans never stopped chanting. Their voices grew louder and more fervent, a relentless wave of encouragement. Many chanted Yang Yang's name, imploring him to score another goal, then another, and leave no doubt about his claim to the Golden Boot.
"Yang Yang! Yang Yang!" the crowd roared.
The atmosphere invigorated Yang Yang. From the first whistle of the second half, he played with boundless energy, chasing every loose ball and running tirelessly to create openings. It was as if he were everywhere at once, his effort inspiring even greater fervor from the fans.
To shake off Groningen's tight marking, Yang Yang expanded his movement, drifting to the left flank and occasionally cutting inside to the center. His versatility created new angles of attack, making him a constant threat.
Every time Yang Yang touched the ball, the Amsterdam Arena erupted in cheers. His skill, determination, and creativity electrified the crowd, though Groningen's disciplined defense continued to thwart his efforts.
The visitors were clearly well-prepared. Even though they trailed by a goal, Groningen's priority wasn't to chase an equalizer but to frustrate Ajax's attack and deny Yang Yang any clear opportunities. Much like Nijmegen, their approach was rooted in grit and professionalism. They could concede defeat, but they were determined to make Ajax and Yang Yang earn it.
Ajax's players, aware of the stakes, rallied behind their star. Charisteas, the towering Greek striker, played selflessly, dropping deep to drag defenders out of position and creating space for Yang Yang to exploit. His unyielding work rate reflected the trust and camaraderie within the team.
Yang Yang's generosity off the pitch had cemented his bond with his teammates. Over the season, he had frequently gifted them tokens of appreciation, including personalized items like mobile phones. These gestures built goodwill and unity, and now, in a moment of immense pressure, the team rallied to support him.
More than 50,000 fans in the stadium and millions watching worldwide eagerly awaited the breakthrough. The air was electric with anticipation. And then, it happened.
A misplaced pass from Groningen's midfield was intercepted just before the center circle. Ajax pounced on the error with precision.
"Ajax steals the ball to counterattack!" the commentator exclaimed.
Galásek, sharp as ever, quickly delivered a perfectly weighted pass into the front line. Charisteas retreated to meet it, using his body to shield the ball from his marker. With a deft touch, he laid it off to Pienaar on the left flank.
"Charisteas passes to Pienaar!"
At that moment, Yang Yang, stationed on the left, sprang into action. His explosive pace sent him hurtling down the line like a predator honing in on its prey.
"Pienaar sends a through ball behind the defense!"
The pass split the Groningen backline, angling toward the space in front of Yang Yang. Groningen's center-back, Gibril Sankoh, reacted quickly, sprinting to intercept. His athleticism and awareness made him a formidable opponent, but Yang Yang's acceleration was unmatched.
"Yang Yang takes off like a rocket!"
"Sankoh is chasing him, closing in quickly!"
...
Yang Yang faced Groningen's central defender one-on-one at the left edge of the penalty area.
As soon as their positions squared, Yang Yang struck. Before the defender could fully set his stance, Yang Yang executed a rapid sequence of step-overs, dazzling his opponent with his speed and precision.
Feigning a move to the outside, Yang Yang appeared to prepare for a cross, but with a sudden, sharp motion, he cut the ball back inside, leaving the defender flat-footed. The crowd gasped as the Groningen defender stumbled, desperately trying to recover.
Yang Yang didn't hesitate. The moment he created the space, he shifted his weight and unleashed a thunderous strike with his right foot.
The ball curved viciously, spinning with perfect precision. It sailed past the outstretched fingertips of goalkeeper Bas Roorda and rocketed into the top-right corner of the net.
Dead end!
It was the kind of goal that defied any possibility of a save—a masterpiece that only the most skilled players could deliver.
The Amsterdam Arena exploded into deafening cheers. Yang Yang, consumed by the sheer euphoria of the moment, sprinted toward the corner flag, arms outstretched. He stopped directly in front of the live TV cameras, pounding his chest with both hands and shouting into the lens as if declaring to the world:
I did it!
And he truly had. Yang Yang had scored again, his second of the match, pulling even further ahead of Kuyt in the Golden Boot race.
Behind him, his teammates surged forward, enveloping him in jubilant embraces. Charisteas, Sneijder, Pienaar—all of them roared in celebration, shouting words of encouragement and congratulations. Yet Yang Yang couldn't hear any of it. The moment was a blur, his mind overwhelmed by adrenaline and emotion.
"This is an absolute dead end!" the commentator exclaimed, his voice barely audible over the roaring crowd.
"Yang Yang scores his 33rd goal of the Eredivisie season in stunning fashion! What an incredible strike!"
"Groningen's goalkeeper Roorda was completely helpless—there was no stopping that!"
The stadium announcer echoed the sentiment, calling for a standing ovation. The fans rose as one, clapping and cheering with wild abandon, their chants of "Yang Yang!" reverberating through the Amsterdam Arena.
"If Kuyt doesn't score in Nijmegen," the commentator continued, "then Yang Yang is on the verge of making history! With two goals ahead, he's poised to become the youngest Eredivisie Golden Boot winner ever, breaking Ronaldo's legendary record!"
"All of us watching tonight, whether in the stadium or on screens around the world, might be witnessing history in the making."
"Two years ago, when Yang Yang debuted and dazzled us with his step-over, many wondered if he could become the second Ronaldo. But after this performance, it's clear—calling him the second Ronaldo doesn't do him justice. Yang Yang is writing his own history!"
"Eighteen years old, 33 league goals. This is the stuff of legends."
The camera lingered on Yang Yang as he adjusted the lucky hand rope on his wrist. The fans roared louder, urging him onward, their belief in him unwavering.
"There are still 30 minutes left in this game," the commentator noted. "Could Yang Yang do even more? Could he score a hat-trick and cement his place among the greatest?"
The scene shifted back to Yang Yang, now jogging to midfield, his face resolute despite the overwhelming adulation from the crowd.
"As Ronaldo himself said, Yang Yang doesn't need to be the next Ronaldo—he should strive to be the first Yang Yang."
"And with 30 minutes left to play, let's give Yang Yang all the applause and encouragement he deserves. Let's see what this young star is capable of next!"
...
...
As Yang Yang concluded his goal celebration, he took a moment to regain his composure. Jogging toward the sideline, he embraced Ronald Koeman and Ruud Krol, who greeted him with proud smiles. Then, he turned to the bench, sharing high-fives and hugs with his substitute teammates, all celebrating his record-breaking feat in the Eredivisie.
After soaking in the moment, Yang Yang sprinted back onto the pitch, refocusing his energy on the game.
Meanwhile, in Nijmegen, the atmosphere in the stands shifted dramatically as news filtered through.
The second half had started with Feyenoord playing like a team possessed. Kuyt was relentless, driving forward at every opportunity. His teammates worked tirelessly to support him, creating space, pulling defenders out of position, and delivering dangerous balls into the box.
The entire Feyenoord side seemed singularly determined: Kuyt must score.
Their frenzied attack pushed Nijmegen deeper and deeper into their own half. The home team's defense was stretched to its limit, their goal under constant threat. Each Feyenoord foray forward felt like it might finally break through. The tension in the air was palpable.
It seemed inevitable: Feyenoord would score.
The only question was, who would deliver the goal?
All eyes were on Kuyt.
The Dutch forward's hunger for the net was unmistakable. He believed that if he could just score once, the floodgates would open. He could equalize and even surpass Yang Yang, reclaiming his place as the Eredivisie's top scorer.
In his mind, Kuyt saw himself stepping into history alongside Ruud van Nistelrooy, the last Eredivisie striker to score over 30 goals in a season. He clenched his fists, his resolve unshaken. The goal was coming; he could feel it.
Then, as he turned to face Nijmegen's goal during another attack, his eyes were drawn to the stands behind the home team's net.
There, two enormous cards had been raised by fans.
Each displayed a bold black numeral: 3 on the left and 3 on the right.
Kuyt's heart sank. A cold chill ran down his spine, extinguishing the fire that had burned so fiercely within him moments before.
"What does that mean?" he muttered to himself, though deep down, he already knew.
The fans, sensing his realization, began chanting in unison, their voices cutting through the din of the match.
This was no mere taunt; it was an announcement.
Yang Yang had scored again.
The Chinese winger now had 33 league goals.
Kuyt's head swam. Yang Yang had broken Ronaldo's legendary record. He had pulled two goals ahead in the Golden Boot race.
In that instant, Kuyt felt as though the ground beneath him had given way. His hands, once clenched in determination, slackened. The feverish drive that had propelled him through the game evaporated, leaving only a hollow sense of defeat.
Even if he scored now, it wouldn't matter.
Even if he managed to equal Yang Yang's tally by the end of the game, he would still lose. Yang Yang had seized the moment, shattered expectations, and claimed his place in history.
Kuyt's thoughts spiraled back to the 32nd round of the league. Back then, he had led Yang Yang by two goals with just two matches remaining. He had felt so confident, so assured of his victory. Perhaps, he now realized, that overconfidence had been his downfall.
In Amsterdam, Yang Yang had risen to the occasion, delivering a performance for the ages.
In Nijmegen, Kuyt stood frozen on the pitch, the chants of the home crowd ringing in his ears. The numbers on the cards seemed to mock him, a stark reminder of the brilliance that had eluded him tonight.
Yang Yang had won.
...
...
"Damn it! How can these fans do this?"
Ruud Gullit's voice boomed from the sidelines, his frustration palpable. His sharp eyes fixed on the Nijmegen fans holding up the giant cards displaying the numbers 33 and chanting with unabashed glee.
Gullit paced back and forth, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. This wasn't just gamesmanship—it was psychological warfare.
The Nijmegen fans weren't just mocking Feyenoord; they were delivering a decisive psychological blow. By broadcasting the news from Amsterdam that Yang Yang had scored his 33rd goal, they had shattered Feyenoord's focus and stripped the match of its meaning.
"This is too much!" Gullit muttered through gritted teeth, barely able to contain his anger. For a moment, he felt an irrational urge to confront the fans, as if challenging them would undo the damage their taunting had caused.
But deep down, he knew the harm had already been done.
The Feyenoord players, once so aggressive and determined, now moved as though a weight had been dropped on their shoulders. Their attacks, previously sharp and coordinated, became erratic and disjointed. Passes missed their targets, runs were mistimed, and the urgency that had driven them forward dissolved into frustration and doubt.
Gullit watched in dismay as the energy drained from his team. He could feel it in the way they hesitated, the way their heads turned toward Kuyt after every failed opportunity, looking for leadership he could no longer provide.
And then came the inevitable punishment.
In the 71st minute, Nijmegen capitalized on a sloppy Feyenoord error. A wayward pass in midfield was intercepted, sparking a swift counterattack. Bart Van Den Eede, Nijmegen's opportunistic striker, pounced on the chance, driving into the box and slotting the ball past the goalkeeper with clinical precision.
"Goal! Bart Van Den Eede breaks the deadlock!" the commentator roared, though his excitement contrasted starkly with the despair spreading through the Feyenoord bench.
The stadium erupted in cheers, but for Feyenoord, the sound was a death knell.
The sight of Van Den Eede celebrating with his teammates was like salt poured on an open wound.
Gullit stood frozen on the sidelines, his arms hanging limp at his sides. His mind raced for answers, but there were none. The scoreline wasn't just 1-0 in Nijmegen's favor—it was a symbol of Feyenoord's collapse.
Finished.
The word echoed in Gullit's mind, heavy with finality.
All the work, all the preparation, all the hope for Kuyt to surpass Yang Yang—it was over. Gullit could feel it slipping away, the energy, the belief, the fight. His strength seemed to leave him as he sank into his seat on the bench, staring blankly at the pitch.
Feyenoord wasn't just losing the game; they were losing the battle for the Golden Boot, the narrative, and their pride.
For Gullit, it felt like defeat in every sense of the word.
...
...
The Ajax players, along with Yang Yang, remained laser-focused in Amsterdam, oblivious to the events unfolding in Nijmegen.
Despite scoring two brilliant goals, Yang Yang refused to let up. The pressure he felt was immense. He had no way of knowing Feyenoord's scoreline, and a slim two-goal lead over Kuyt didn't feel secure enough. His determination to seal the Golden Boot spurred him on relentlessly.
The opportunity came in the 77th minute.
Ajax had been probing Groningen's defense, passing and moving with precision, waiting for the right moment to strike. Then, Wesley Sneijder delivered a stroke of genius.
From just outside the penalty area, Sneijder threaded a perfectly timed and weighted through ball, slicing through Groningen's defensive line like a surgeon's scalpel. The pass was pinpoint, exploiting the gap in the right-hand channel with surgical accuracy.
Yang Yang, who had been waiting for his chance, made his move the instant Sneijder released the ball. With a burst of pace, he left his marker behind and darted into the penalty area. Calm and composed, he met the pass with his right foot, steering the ball past the onrushing goalkeeper into the bottom corner of the net.
Goal!
Referee Tom van Sichem blew his whistle emphatically to confirm the goal. It was his most animated call of the night in a game that had been largely one-sided. The referee, known for his strict enforcement, hadn't needed to issue a single yellow card—evidence of the lack of resistance from Groningen.
"Hat trick!" the commentator exclaimed, his voice filled with awe.
"Yang Yang has done it again! The young Chinese star completes his hat trick and puts an exclamation point on his historic season!"
"This is Yang Yang's 34th league goal! Thirty-four goals in one Eredivisie season—what a record!"
"Not only has he secured the Golden Boot tonight, but he's also shattered Ronaldo's legendary record and become the youngest Golden Boot winner in Eredivisie history!"
The Amsterdam Arena erupted into jubilation. Fans waved banners and scarves, their chants echoing through the stadium as they celebrated the historic moment. Many had tears in their eyes, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what they were witnessing.
"Yang Yang, who for most of this season was a steady scorer of one or two goals per game, has exploded with seven goals in just two matches to cement his place in history!"
"No one could have predicted this. Seven goals in two games—it's simply unbelievable!"
The cameras panned to the Ajax bench, where coaches and substitutes leaped to their feet, cheering and embracing. Ronald Koeman smiled broadly, clapping in admiration for his star player.
"Words fail to describe Yang Yang's performance tonight. Dreamlike? Perfect? Legendary? None of them seem enough," the commentator continued.
"This is a moment that will be etched into Eredivisie history. Decades from now, people will look back and speak of this night in reverent tones. They will tell their children and grandchildren about the match where Yang Yang shattered records and cemented his legacy as a football legend."
The players mobbed Yang Yang on the pitch, their celebrations exuberant. He stood at the center of it all, beaming, as more than 50,000 fans chanted his name with unrelenting fervor.
The commentator's voice grew quieter, but his words carried weight.
"Let us all congratulate Yang Yang. Congratulations on this historic achievement, and congratulations to Ajax. Tonight, we have witnessed greatness."
...
...
After scoring his third goal, Yang Yang didn't lose himself in wild celebration as one might expect. Despite the euphoria coursing through his veins, he maintained remarkable composure. His face radiated pure joy, his broad smile reflecting the sheer magnitude of his achievement, but his focus remained intact.
Meanwhile, more than 10,000 fans in Nijmegen were also in high spirits, though for a completely different reason.
In unison, they lifted two new cards, each emblazoned with bold black numerals: 3 and 4.
"Thirty-four!" the home crowd chanted, their voices merging into a deafening roar.
The message was clear. The latest news from the Amsterdam Arena had reached them. Yang Yang had scored again, and his incredible tally now stood at 34 league goals.
The chant echoed through the stands, each repetition driving home the weight of the moment. Yang Yang wasn't just winning the Golden Boot; he was rewriting Eredivisie history.
For Kuyt, the numbers on those cards might as well have been etched in stone. The Feyenoord forward stood on the pitch, visibly shaken. His teammates avoided his gaze, and he was left alone with his thoughts.
Not long ago, Kuyt had believed Yang Yang wasn't the type of player to produce explosive performances. Throughout the season, Yang Yang's goals had been consistent but rarely spectacular in volume—no hat tricks, no flashy displays of dominance.
But now, that belief was shattered.
In the span of three unforgettable matches, Yang Yang had silenced every doubter. He had scored a quadruple in the 33rd round of the Eredivisie, added two critical goals to secure Ajax's UEFA Cup triumph, and now, with this hat trick, had seized the Golden Boot and obliterated Ronaldo's long-standing record.
Kuyt felt powerless. The gap was too great, the challenge insurmountable. Yang Yang had climbed to a level he simply couldn't match.
As Kuyt wrestled with this reality, Nijmegen delivered another crushing blow to Feyenoord.
In the 83rd minute, Andrzej Niedzielan, Nijmegen's Russian striker, latched onto a loose ball in the box. With a quick touch to control and a clinical finish, he slotted it past the Feyenoord goalkeeper.
"Goal! Andrzej Niedzielan scores for Nijmegen!" the commentator's voice rang out, amplifying the jubilation of the home crowd.
The scoreboard now read 2-0, and any hope Feyenoord had of salvaging the match, or Kuyt's Golden Boot aspirations, vanished completely.
For Gullit, it was the final nail in the coffin. He slumped on the bench, staring blankly at the pitch. Feyenoord's defeat was more than just a loss on the scoreboard—it was a symbolic passing of the torch, a moment that marked the ascension of Yang Yang and the undeniable fall of Kuyt's Golden Boot ambitions.
In Amsterdam, Yang Yang stood tall, the name on everyone's lips. In Nijmegen, Kuyt bore the weight of the numbers 34 and 2-0, knowing that tonight belonged to Yang Yang, the new king of the Eredivisie.
...
...
As the clock hit the 86th minute, Ronald Koeman signaled a substitution. Yang Yang was being replaced by Tom De Mul.
The announcement sent a ripple of anticipation through the Amsterdam Arena. More than 50,000 fans rose to their feet, clapping and chanting Yang Yang's name in unison.
Yang Yang walked off the pitch slowly, his face a blend of joy and calmness. Groningen and Ajax players alike extended hands for high-fives and handshakes, with a few even offering hugs. Despite Groningen's valiant efforts to contain him, Yang Yang acknowledged their professionalism with a nod of respect and gratitude.
De Mul stood on the sideline, watching the scene unfold with admiration and a twinge of envy.
He couldn't help but reflect on the journey of the young man walking toward him. Two summers ago, Yang Yang had arrived at Ajax's youth setup from Almere, an unknown quantity brimming with potential. Back then, De Mul had been the team's starting right-winger, a player trusted by Marco van Basten.
But Yang Yang's rise had been meteoric. In just two years, he had climbed from a substitute in the second team to the core of the first team—a journey marked by relentless effort, extraordinary talent, and undeniable results.
De Mul knew better than anyone how hard that climb was. He had worked tirelessly himself, but his reward had been a spot on the first team's bench, while Yang Yang had become the Eredivisie's brightest star.
Still, envy gave way to admiration as De Mul replaced Yang Yang and jogged onto the field.
Yang Yang, meanwhile, turned to the stands, bowing deeply in all four directions. The gesture, a heartfelt expression of gratitude to the fans, elicited even louder cheers and applause.
"Your performance tonight was incredible," Koeman said, embracing Yang Yang as he reached the sideline. "All of us are proud of you!"
"Thank you, boss," Yang Yang replied, his voice filled with genuine gratitude.
Praise from Ajax's coaching staff and management was notoriously rare, making Koeman's words all the more meaningful to Yang Yang.
He then approached Ruud Krol, the assistant coach who had been instrumental in his one-on-one training for over a year.
"You were incredible," Krol said, pulling Yang Yang into a hug. "But remember, tonight is just the beginning. Your journey is far from over."
"I'll keep working hard, Coach. Thank you for everything," Yang Yang said earnestly.
After shaking hands with the rest of the coaching staff, Yang Yang headed toward the bench, where his teammates greeted him like a returning hero. Nicolas Bendtner, Filipe Luís, and others surrounded him with pats on the back and words of congratulations.
Yang Yang's achievements this season had earned him universal respect within the squad. Beyond his undeniable skill on the pitch, his humility and kindness off it had endeared him to everyone at the club.
As the match wound down, the celebrations in the stands began early. The Ajax faithful waved scarves and banners, chanting songs of victory and singing Yang Yang's name.
The final whistle blew, and pandemonium erupted. Players and staff from the Ajax bench poured onto the field, embracing each other as the stadium roared in celebration.
Champions!
Ajax had done it again, clinching the Eredivisie title in a stunning comeback season.
Yang Yang stayed near the sidelines, celebrating first with Koeman and Krol before being mobbed by his jubilant teammates. Shortly after, the players hoisted Koeman into the air, tossing him up repeatedly as fans cheered loudly.
The commentator's voice soared above the noise.
"Let's congratulate Ajax! Congratulations to Ronald Koeman, and congratulations to Yang Yang!"
"This has been a fantastic season for Ajax. From struggling in the first half of the season—at one point ranked twelfth—to storming back and reclaiming the league title, it's been nothing short of remarkable."
"Guus Hiddink himself said it best: no matter the result, Ajax's performance this season has been inspiring. After this incredible campaign, Koeman's team is poised to grow even stronger and more mature. Next season, they may well be even more formidable."
"And as for Yang Yang—what a season he's had! At just 18 years old, he's broken Ronaldo's legendary record, claimed the Golden Boot, and become a true Eredivisie superstar. His future is limitless, and we can only imagine the heights he'll reach."
As the celebrations continued, Yang Yang found a quiet moment amidst the chaos to reflect. His heart swelled with pride and gratitude—not just for the accolades but for the journey that had brought him here.
The fans, still chanting his name, knew they were witnessing the birth of a legend.
...
...
When Ajax captain Tomáš Galásek raised the Eredivisie trophy high above his head, the Amsterdam Arena erupted into wild celebration. The deafening roar of more than 50,000 fans reverberated through the stadium, their cheers a thunderous affirmation of Ajax's triumphant return to the summit of Dutch football.
The scene was captured by live broadcasts and countless media reporters, ensuring that the moment would be immortalized in football history.
Amidst the jubilation, Yang Yang stood apart, retreating to the periphery of the celebrations. Though he was undoubtedly the night's brightest star, he deliberately chose to step back, letting his teammates bask in the spotlight. He lingered on the sidelines, watching quietly, his face a picture of quiet contentment but also introspection.
For the first time in weeks, Yang Yang had a moment to reflect.
His mind drifted to the future, the path that lay ahead. Winning the Eredivisie Golden Boot and breaking Ronaldo's record were monumental achievements, but his ambitions stretched far beyond tonight's triumph.
The Champions League beckoned, a stage where the best players in the world showcased their talent. Yang Yang wanted to be among them, to test himself at the highest level. Yet, the road to the Champions League wasn't straightforward.
He thought of Mino Raiola, his agent, who had been relentlessly following Ajax's games. From Lisbon to Amsterdam, the Italian had shadowed the team, silently observing Yang Yang's performances. Though Raiola had made himself scarce in recent days, not wanting to distract his client, Yang Yang knew that a serious conversation about his future was imminent.
Would he stay at Ajax or make the leap to a bigger club?
The decision weighed heavily on him.
Leaving Ajax was tempting. Moving to a Champions League club would accelerate his career, offering him the opportunity to compete against Europe's elite. But the risks were immense.
Yang Yang had seen it happen before—players making bold moves only to regret them later. Van der Vaart and Julien Escudé had gone to Real Madrid with high hopes, only to struggle for game time and adapt to the intense scrutiny. What had seemed like a dream quickly turned into a nightmare.
Returning to Ajax after a failed stint abroad was rarely an option. Negotiations between clubs were often complicated, and even if a return were possible, it would come at a steep cost, both financially and reputationally.
Yang Yang couldn't afford to make the same mistake.
At just 18, he was still developing. Would a Champions League team offer him a starting position? Would their tactical style suit his strengths? Did they have the ambition and resources to support his growth?
These questions haunted him. A wrong decision could derail his career, reducing him to a cautionary tale.
And yet, staying at Ajax posed its own challenges. While remaining with the club offered stability and a supportive environment, it also meant taking a more conservative path.
Would Ajax's management resist the temptation to sell him, as they had done with Van der Vaart, Ibrahimović, and others last summer? More importantly, did the club have the ambition and resources to compete in the Champions League next season?
Yang Yang didn't want to stagnate. If Ajax couldn't match his aspirations, staying might limit his potential.
The crowd's cheers pulled him back to the present. His teammates were still celebrating, their joy infectious. Yet Yang Yang remained lost in thought, knowing that his decision in the coming weeks would shape the trajectory of his career.
For now, he allowed himself to savor the moment. The challenges of tomorrow could wait. Tonight, he was a champion.
...
...
"How are you feeling?"
As Yang Yang stood on the sidelines, finally allowing himself a moment of introspection, Luther Krol quietly approached, his voice calm but curious.
"Cool. Enjoyable," Yang Yang replied with a smile, the adrenaline of victory still coursing through him.
Krol nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—an unspoken weight behind his words. After a pause, he sighed softly.
"What's wrong?" Yang Yang asked, puzzled by the sudden shift in Krol's demeanor.
Krol frowned slightly, then shook his head with a wry smile. "It's nothing, really. I was just thinking... European football has changed so quickly. So much is different now—faster, more ruthless. Sometimes I feel like we've become relics of another era, just trying to keep up."
Yang Yang immediately understood.
Krol's sentiment wasn't just about the pace of the game; it was about the ever-changing nature of the sport—where loyalty and continuity often took a backseat to ambition and financial pragmatism.
Last summer alone, Ajax had sold five key players in one fell swoop. Each departure had left its mark, a quiet sadness lingering beneath the surface of the club's successes. How could Krol, who had nurtured so many of these players, not feel a twinge of sorrow?
At this moment, Krol's thoughts likely mirrored Yang Yang's own. How many of these jubilant players, celebrating wildly on the pitch, would return to the training ground in early July? How many would still be part of the squad come next season?
Even Yang Yang couldn't guarantee his place at Ajax. A single sky-high bid from a wealthy club could see him whisked away, his future decided by boardroom negotiations rather than personal preference.
The words of Johnny Rep echoed in his mind: Since signing a professional contract, you no longer belong solely to yourself.
"It's okay, Coach," Yang Yang said, offering a reassuring smile. "No matter where I go or how far I go, I'll always remember you and what you've done for me."
Krol glanced at Yang Yang, his expression softening. Shaking his head with a small chuckle, he replied, "Spare me the sentimentality. If you really want to remember me, just make my life easier while you're still here."
Then, with a twinkle of mischief rare for the usually serious assistant coach, he added, "Who knows, maybe one day I'll write a book. Something like, I Trained Yang Yang: The Man Behind the Legend. I could make a fortune selling it as an autobiography."
"Uh..." Yang Yang was momentarily stunned. It was rare to see this playful side of Krol.
"What? Too much?" Krol teased, his smile widening.
Yang Yang laughed. "No, it's perfect. If you ever write that book, let me know. I'll even write you a foreword."
Despite the levity, Yang Yang could sense the deeper emotions beneath Krol's words—an intricate mix of joy and anxiety.
Krol was proud of the players he had helped nurture, watching them blossom into stars, but he also knew that professional football was an unforgiving business. Players came and went; teams were rebuilt season after season. The bonds formed over years of hard work could be severed in an instant.
For Krol, there was always the bittersweet realization that his role was fleeting, that the players he mentored would eventually move on to bigger and better things.
Yang Yang saw it too. The beauty of professional football lay in its endless pursuit of greatness, but its brutality lay in the sacrifices it demanded—of players, coaches, and the game itself.
Professional football wasn't just a business; it was a relentless, unyielding cycle.
And yet, in this fleeting moment, there was laughter, camaraderie, and a shared understanding that, no matter what came next, they had made this journey together.