Chapter Eighteen: Searching for a Football Academy

"Yuyun, what's gotten into you today?"

Having received a definite answer from his father, Long Bisheng happily tucked the ball under his arm and headed outside. He planned to kick the ball around in the courtyard for a while. No sooner had he stepped out than Yin Xiuping, who had been holding back for some time, could no longer restrain herself. She turned to Long Yuyun and exclaimed, "How could you possibly agree to his request?"

Hearing his wife confront him so directly, Long Yuyun only smiled. He took out a cigarette, lit it, and said with a chuckle, "Your patience has improved a lot—I thought you'd start shouting right away, but you managed to wait until now. I didn't expect that; you surprised me."

"Surprised? Give me a break." Yin Xiuping nearly snatched the cigarette from his mouth. "Don't try to change the subject! I asked you why you agreed to let Bisheng play soccer. Don't you know how difficult that path is? If he can't make something of himself, and doesn't go to university to gain knowledge, how will he get by in society? Are we supposed to support him for the rest of his life? Even if we wanted to, could we really do that forever?"

"I've thought about all that," Long Yuyun replied in a serious tone. "Right now, Bisheng is asking us very earnestly to let him play soccer. This is the first time he's ever made such a request of us. We can't just dismiss his wishes out of hand. Besides, you know as well as I do—our son may not be cut out for academic pursuits. Since that's the case, why not let him try another path?"

"You're so sure he's not meant for academics? He's only in the second grade! How can you tell at this stage who will succeed and who won’t?" Yin Xiuping immediately countered.

"That's a fair point. But let's look at it another way: Bisheng has always seemed a little slow-witted since he was small, and he's not quick to react." Long Yuyun sighed. He certainly didn't want to admit this, but it was even less realistic to hope that Long Bisheng would suddenly have a breakthrough in his studies—innate talent is rarely subject to change. "This means he'll always be a step behind in his studies and not suited for meticulous work. Of course, I believe our son is no less intelligent than anyone else, maybe he just hasn't had his spark yet... but what if that spark comes too late? On the other hand, his physical attributes are truly exceptional—his strength, stamina, and height all make him ideal material for an athlete. These days, the state values athletes highly and their income is good. If he can make a name for himself in this field, who’s to say it isn’t just as legitimate a path as going to university? And from what I hear, even college graduates aren’t guaranteed jobs anymore. With more and more graduates, everyone has to find their own way. Maybe studying isn’t the only good option after all."

"And you think playing soccer is a guaranteed path to success?" Yin Xiuping said, still fuming.

"I’m not saying it’s a guaranteed path, but it’s not necessarily a bad one either," Long Yuyun explained patiently. "Bisheng is only nine. If he starts training early, even if he doesn’t become a top player, at least he’ll have a foundation. With hard work, even if he only manages to play in lower leagues, he could make more than working in a big company. And I believe that athletes' incomes will only continue to rise in the future, not fall. It’s true that a footballer’s prime only lasts so many years, but with good management, earning enough in ten years to support oneself for a lifetime isn’t out of reach."

"And if he doesn’t make it?" Yin Xiuping retorted, still angry.

"Then when he turns eighteen, he can join the army," Long Yuyun said calmly. "If nothing else, I’m certain he’d make a good soldier."

At that, Yin Xiuping fell silent. She trusted her husband's judgment on soldiers—after all, as a deputy commander of a reconnaissance battalion with ten years’ experience, if he couldn’t spot a good soldier, who could? Besides, she was beginning to see the sense in her husband's reasoning.

At last, she asked, "But didn’t you once say that a football star who won three World Cups died penniless? Aren’t you worried our son could end up the same?"

Long Yuyun almost choked on his cigarette—so this was what she’d been fretting about all along! My goodness, that was in the fifties or sixties, when footballers didn’t earn nearly as much...

It took Long Yuyun quite some effort to reassure his wife that those tragic days were long gone—the twentieth century was coming to an end, and soon they’d be crossing into the twenty-first. Such misfortune was a thing of the past.

***

The very next day, Long Yuyun began making inquiries everywhere on behalf of his son.

It was only mid-July; most schools began in early September, and football academies were no exception. He had plenty of time to make arrangements—a month and more should suffice.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was that football academies were not as easy to find as ordinary schools, which existed in nearly every town and village. Football academies, on the other hand...

In cities with professional teams or a strong football culture, it wasn’t hard to find a football academy. But in Xinjiang, this “desert of football,” finding one was no easy feat.

There wasn’t a single football academy in all of Xinjiang. Even Lanzhou, the capital of Gansu Province, didn’t have one. Long Yuyun asked every friend and acquaintance he could think of, and only after half a month did he learn that there was an academy in Xi’an, Shaanxi, which had been operating for a year.

That, of course, was not the only option, but it was the nearest one—relatively speaking. After all, Urumqi, where the Long family lived, was nearly halfway across China from Xi’an. Other cities with football academies were even farther—Sichuan, Hubei, Hebei, Shandong...

And the city reputed to have the best football academy in the country, Yunjia, was practically on the opposite end of China from Xinjiang!

Perhaps Xi’an would have to do, then. Long Yuyun sighed.

He had considered sending his son to the renowned Yunjia Football Academy—rumor had it they were about to build a new academy in partnership with the Serie A giant Inter Milan. But entry requirements for such a school would be extremely tough. It might be better to enroll Bisheng somewhere closer, let him train for a few years, and then try out for Yunjia Tianyu’s youth team. Who knows, maybe Azati, if he was doing well there, could put in a good word.

With that in mind, Long Yuyun dialed the number for the academy, which he had obtained from a comrade-in-arms.