Prologue

Center Forward, No Pop-ups

May 19, 1985, evening, Beijing.

“Lose to Hong Kong? Is that possible?” A fan slapped himself hard, tears falling to the ground as his hand swung. For over a minute, seventy thousand people sat in deathly silence. Near Stand 18 at the Workers’ Stadium, angry shouts broke out first, soon followed by a tidal wave of invective flooding the stands from all directions, crashing down on the Chinese team as they began to leave the field. The players walked on, numb, not a single one daring to raise their head to look at the stands.

“Disband the national team! Disband the national team!”

“Disband the team! Coach Zeng Xuelin, step down!”

The first angry roar from the stands quickly swept over every section of the Workers’ Stadium. Just a moment ago, the fans had watched the pitch in a daze, unwilling to believe the Chinese team could lose at home to Hong Kong. But in that instant, the fire burning in their hearts was fully ignited, and all the honest, upright fans became a mob.

As spectators exited, their inexplicable fury spread rapidly. Only about a thousand police officers were on site to maintain order, for no one had imagined that Hong Kong would deliver the darkest night in Chinese football’s history.

The Chinese Youth Team players, dressed in civilian clothes and seated in the stands, became the first innocents caught in the crossfire. Mistaken for national team members, they were chased and attacked as they left the stadium. Thankfully, their athletic training allowed them to escape quickly.

With no target left to vent their anger on, the fans sought new outlets, lashing out at traffic police booths, garbage bins, phone booths, newspaper kiosks—anything public became a casualty of their rage.

Half an hour later, about two thousand police officers were mobilized from across Beijing to reinforce the stadium, beginning to disperse the crowd and sealing off intersections. Reportedly, more than a hundred fans were arrested that night, and some paid dearly; eighteen were sentenced to criminal detention, forced labor, or imprisonment.

It was the first time Chinese football fans rioted. The famous writers Liu Xinwu and Li You each wrote reportage: “Long Lens of May 19” and “The Tilted Pitch.” Spain’s AS newspaper excerpted “Long Lens of May 19,” marveling, “For the first time, this socialist nation has witnessed ‘football hooligans’!” Reuters quickly spread the news worldwide.

**************************************

Two days later, Beijing Military District.

“I think you owe me an explanation.” A colonel, his epaulets gleaming, looked sorrowfully at a lieutenant before him. “What could make my most outstanding, most composed officer join the ranks of those vandalizing public property? Do you know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t happened to be there that night and taken you from the police? It would have been the greatest scandal our division has ever faced! A platoon leader—failing to protect public property, instead breaking it! Where’s the education you received in the army?”

“Long Yuyun, tell me! What made you lose your composure?”

Long Yuyun stood straight, towering at six feet four, but he remained silent.

The colonel stared into his eyes. Long Yuyun finally replied, “No reason. Commander, wrong is wrong. I’m prepared to face any consequences.”

“That’s your answer,” the colonel said, his face expressionless. “Normally, I could cover this up, but now…” He pointed upward. “Higher-ups already know. I can’t suppress it. You understand full well what this will mean, especially at this juncture… Now you have two choices.”

Long Yuyun looked at his superior. The colonel’s regret grew ever deeper; after all, Long Yuyun was his best platoon leader.

“First, demobilize and go home. We’ll arrange a job for you. Nothing about this incident will appear in your record, and no one will ever know why you left the service. You’ll have a bright future.”

“What’s the second option?” Long Yuyun ignored the first outright.

The colonel smiled faintly. “Second, transfer out of our unit, to the Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps. They’re short-handed right now and don’t care about blemishes in your file. You can’t stay in our district anymore, and as for other military districts… Central Command is about to carry out the eighth major downsizing. Normally, you could transfer, but not now—except for Xinjiang.”

“I choose Xinjiang,” Long Yuyun replied instantly.

He was a soldier. Leaving the army would be no different from dying, so he would rather go to Xinjiang, even if it meant anonymity, distance from headquarters, danger, and sacrifice.

The colonel said nothing more, waving him away.

“In this round of downsizing, you could have stayed… Why did you have to get yourself into this mess…” the colonel sighed.

**********************************************

The “May 19 Incident” had profound impact not only on Chinese football, but on Chinese society as a whole. For twenty years, it remained the most painful chapter for fans to revisit. Head coach Zeng Xuelin never recovered; after resigning, he left the front lines of football work, returning only once to help Shenzhen avoid relegation as a technical advisor, then retiring immediately, living on a modest pension from the Shenzhen Sports Committee. Most members of that national team never played for China again, though among them were talents like Zhu Bo, Li Huajun, Liu Haiguang, Gu Guangming, Jia Xiuquan, and Wu Qunli.

As for Long Yuyun, the platoon leader from a reconnaissance battalion in the Beijing Military District who was exiled to Xinjiang for his involvement in the “May 19 Incident,” he was just one insignificant ripple among many.