Chapter Eleven: Making an Early Decision

The atmosphere at Redstone Stadium was palpable to the viewers at home, even accounting for signal transmission and modulation losses. One could clearly hear the profanity echoing through the chaotic noise of the stands. Especially in the shots taken from the upper tiers, many Sophon United fans could be seen with their middle fingers raised high.

"It’s truly baffling. Sophon United managed a 2-2 draw away at Clayton Athletic in the first half of the season, so why are they falling apart like this at home? If you want to blame the red card for their starting center-back Vitali... well, they were already down by two goals before he was even sent off," Cesar Varo said, shaking his head as he watched the live broadcast.

In the top left corner of the screen, the real-time score and match clock were displayed. It was the seventy-eighth minute, and the score was 0-3, with the home side, Sophon United, trailing.

"Why? Because Wang Tian kept posting vlogs of him training and eating with the youth team, which ruined the team's morale and disrupted their preparation," Sam McNeil said with a hint of sarcasm.

"That reason is far too far-fetched, isn't it?"

McNeil spread his hands. "But people actually believe it. And looking at their performance on the pitch, the Sophon United players are clearly in a bad state. Wang and Helden have completely burned their bridges, and the situation has been so high-profile, with the media tracking it every day—it’s impossible that it hasn't affected the players. After all, in the first half of the season, Helden’s Sophon United performed quite well against the top teams."

In the first half of the season, Sophon United’s record against the "Big Six" of the Premier League, excluding themselves, had indeed been impressive: a 1-1 home draw against Skogar, a 2-0 home victory over the current league leaders Hackney Knights, a 2-2 away draw against defending champions Clayton Athletic, a 3-1 away win at Waltham, and a 1-0 away win against Kensington. They had remained unbeaten against them all!

This was why the new manager, Sven Helden, had received so much praise and support—if he didn't have real talent, why would the club allow him to treat their star player this way?

On screen, Clayton Athletic was in possession. With a three-goal lead, they weren't in a hurry to push the attack, instead passing the ball back and forth in their own half. This was their specialty. Some Sophon United players tried to press, but it wasn't a coordinated system; it was merely the individual actions of a few. This sporadic, impulsive pressing was meaningless against a team as adept at ball retention as Clayton Athletic.

Commentator Connor Cawley criticized the display: "If you only looked at this scene, I would certainly assume Sophon United were the ones in the lead. There are only a dozen minutes left; even if they can't realistically score three goals, they should at least push forward and avoid being shut out by their cross-town rivals, right?

"The Sophon United players look like they’ve lost the will to fight, especially being a man down. I suspect their minds are filled with the thought, ‘Whatever you do, don't lose by four goals at home,’ because a four-goal margin would be Sophon United’s worst home defeat against Clayton Athletic in history..."

As he spoke, the broadcast cut to a suite at Redstone Stadium. Wang Lie, who was not on the match-day squad, sat there in casual clothes, watching the game. His expression was stern; he stared at the pitch in silence. Beside him sat his agent, Fernando Clemente, who was busy tinkering with his phone. When the camera had panned over them earlier, they had occasionally whispered to each other, but now, neither spoke.

Seeing this, Cesar Varo suddenly asked, "If they lose this match, will the club be pressured into bringing Wang back to the first team?"

"There’s no point in returning now. Wang’s agency team should be negotiating a contract termination with Sophon United as we speak, and this defeat might just accelerate the process..."

"Isn't that a good thing for us?"

"I don't know if it's a good thing. We aren't the only ones interested in Wang right now..."

Varo asked, "Any news from Forster?"

The Forster he referred to was Will Forster, the General Manager of Tyne FC. Since taking the position two years ago, he had implemented sweeping internal reforms, and it was he who had defied public opinion to sign the then-unknown Sam McNeil to coach the Tyne first team.

"We’re talking, but there isn't much progress. Will said he doesn't think Wang has fully made up his mind to join us. He suspects Wang’s team is in contact with several others, but he doesn't know which ones..."

Hearing this, Varo shook his head. "It seems you didn't manage to convince him back then... Are you going to call and persuade him again?"

"I’ve said everything I could," McNeil replied, shaking his head. "The rest is up to God. Of course, I want him to come to Tyne, but if he doesn't, there’s nothing I can do." He reached out and turned off the television.

Varo was surprised. "You're not watching anymore?"

McNeil turned to him. "I came from Sophon United, too. Did you really think I’d enjoy watching my old club get dismantled by their cross-town rivals?"

Varo grinned. "Given your 'sharp critiques' of Sophon United lately, I thought you were actually enjoying the joke..."

McNeil replied, "If we have to lose, I don't mind losing to anyone except Clayton Athletic or Skogar... though, of course, it would be even better if they lost to us."

Varo laughed. "Fair enough, let’s make sure we beat them at home on Matchday 35!" He then leaned in as if conducting an interview. "Mr. McNeil, if we win, will you celebrate in front of your old club?"

McNeil pushed him away. "Enough, stop daydreaming. Let’s focus on preparing for tomorrow’s match."

***

When the referee blew the final whistle, the boos ringing out over Redstone Stadium reached their crescendo.

The final score was 1-3. Thanks to a long-range strike from attacking midfielder Aaron Schouten in the eighty-eighth minute, Sophon United had managed to avoid being shut out by their rivals at home and avoided a record-breaking defeat. But the result did nothing to please the home fans, and the boos remained deafening.

Amid the tsunami of jeers, Helden walked over with a dark face to shake hands with Clayton Athletic manager Rayan Kocheya. After the routine handshake, he turned and headed for the tunnel. A cameraman followed him all the way until he disappeared into the tunnel. From the final whistle to the handshake and his exit, the broadcast remained focused on a close-up of Helden’s stony face. Kocheya, the victor, was reduced to a mere supporting character who flashed briefly in the background.

The camera then cut to the suite, where Wang Lie stood up to applaud the Sophon United players as they thanked the fans. His expression was just as grim.

Watching this, CCTV commentator Luo Jin remarked, "There was indeed a sentiment before the match, with some hoping Sophon United would lose to Clayton Athletic at home. Many who said this were actually fans of Wang Lie.

"I can understand their feelings, but I believe their idol would never want to be vindicated by a derby defeat. Wang Lie loathes losing so much—how could he use failure as a bargaining chip? So, hoping for a Sophon United loss is actually a slight against the spirit of the person you admire..."

Tang Xingmei glanced at her son when she heard this. "Did you hear that? He’s talking about you!"

Prince Wang, pouting, huffed, "I’m just happy Helden lost! He forced my dad out! He deserves it! I’m actually disappointed they didn't lose by a record margin!"

Her son’s rebellion gave Tang Xingmei a headache. She could only snap, "Go to bed!"

Prince Wang slid off the sofa and hopped toward the stairs, humming a tune. Tang Xingmei listened closely; her son was singing the "cheer song" that Sophon United fans used for Wang Lie, but he seemed to have changed the lyrics...

The original lyrics were: "FIGHTING! FIGHTING! CHINA WANG!"

It sounded like he was singing: "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! SOPHON UNITED!"

Realizing the lyrics, Tang Xingmei’s anger flared. "Prince Wang!"

Her son had already darted up the stairs, retreated to his room, and slammed the door shut.

Tang Xingmei didn't chase him; she just sighed and shook her head helplessly on the sofa. By all rights, she shouldn't have watched this game, especially since her husband wasn't even on the squad list. Yet, she had sat in front of the TV at 8:30 PM sharp.

Why watch it? Perhaps deep down, just like her son, she had hoped to see Sophon United lose. She didn't seem to have the standing or the qualification to lecture her son...

Wait. No! I only wanted Sophon United to lose, but this brat is swearing at such a young age!

With that thought, Tang Xingmei stood up from the sofa, rushed upstairs, and pounded on the door. "Prince Wang, you get out here right now!"

***

"...Helden believes the red card for Pablo Vitali in the fifty-second minute changed the course of the game. He feels the referee’s decision to issue a straight red instead of a yellow card warning was overly harsh..."

On the drive home, Fernando Clemente, sitting in the passenger seat, was still watching the live post-match press conference on his phone.

Listening to the voice from the speaker, Wang Lie laughed dismissively. "See? I told you. He’s pushing the blame for the loss onto the referee again... I’ve never once seen him admit it was his own fault, not even once."

Clemente didn't want to watch Sven Helden’s pathetic performance anymore. He turned off the live stream and said to Wang Lie, "I’ll go see Hall again tomorrow. Although the loss isn't good, I suspect the club is under immense pressure, and he should agree to our request for an early contract termination. The next step is choosing which club to join..."

Clemente had been quite busy lately, contacting potential clubs for Wang Lie. Before coming to watch this match, he had already communicated with Wang.

So far, there were four clubs that had clearly expressed interest in Wang Lie: two in England, one in Spain, and one in Turkey. These were the only four with a genuine possibility of signing him, rather than just vague interest. In other words, Wang Lie’s next destination would be one of these four teams.

The first was the familiar Tyne. The situation there had already been discussed, so there was no need to repeat it.

The second Premier League team was Herlingham FC, currently ninth in the table—a better position than Tyne, despite being a newly promoted side. Herlingham’s situation was a bit complex. The club had Chinese investment. While the chairman was a local Englishman, the backer was Chinese, so their interest in Wang Lie was logical. However, the manager, Kofi Roster, was opposed to it, believing that signing Wang would offer no benefit to the team. The only reason Herlingham was considered a possibility was that the owner really wanted Wang Lie—partly out of national sentiment and partly because of the commercial influence Wang’s massive following would bring. Even if the manager disagreed, the owner had the final say.

After Clemente’s screening, these were the only two Premier League possibilities. Other teams were uninterested, clearly believing that in his current state, Wang Lie could no longer cope with the fast-paced, high-intensity Premier League. In strict terms, perhaps only Tyne’s manager, McNeil, still believed Wang could perform in the Premier League; even Herlingham’s manager was skeptical.

The team interested in La Liga was Sun City, based in Valencia. Since that was where Wang Lie first grew into a top-tier star, many teams there were familiar with him. The giants didn't want the current Wang Lie, but Sun City, as a mid-table team, was interested. Moreover, La Liga didn't rely solely on physicality like the Premier League, so with Wang’s current physical condition, he might still be able to manage.

Turkey’s Marmara Sports was the last team to clearly express interest. The Turkish Super Lig was not considered a top-tier European league, but it was certainly better than the Chinese Super League. If he was determined to stay in Europe and unwilling to return home, the Turkish league was an option. At Wang’s level, he could likely be a starter for a mid-table Turkish side. But since it was far from the core of the European stage, Marmara Sports was a last resort.

"Wang, do you already have an answer in your heart?"

Clemente asked this because, over the past few days, he had vaguely sensed Wang’s personal inclination.

Wang Lie nodded. "At first, I thought McNeil was just banking on my competitive nature, hoping I could shake up the locker room and whip those 'mercenaries' into shape. But I’ve studied Tyne’s last four league matches, and I’ve guessed a bit about McNeil’s tactical considerations."

"Oh? How so?" Clemente was intrigued.

"In the four league games since McNeil took over, Tyne hasn't lost—two wins, two draws. They haven't conceded in three of those, but the wins were both narrow 1-0 and 2-1 victories. The media praised him for strengthening Tyne’s defense in record time, but I think McNeil knows he hasn't truly strengthened it. Conceding only one goal in four games is actually just good luck..."

Wang Lie analyzed as he drove, seemingly unconcerned about distracted driving, reciting his thoughts like a script.

"...McNeil’s method of strengthening defense at this stage is to stack players. That’s fine, but it’s still passive. In these four games, Tyne allowed an average of about seventeen shots per game—I don't recall the exact figure, but that’s quite high. Allowing that many shots isn't exactly a sign of a good defense, is it? Why is the number so high? Because Tyne lacks the ability to threaten the opponent’s goal; they don't apply enough pressure.

"McNeil’s Tyne relies heavily on the wings, and they do have talent there. Vitini, for example, is very active on the left; he’s fast and handles the ball well. But... sometimes his decision-making is off. He keeps dribbling when he should pass, and passes when he should shoot.

"I saw it several times in the game tapes: they’d push the attack into the opponent’s box, but couldn't convert. It’s partly the players' individual ability, but I also think they lack a center-forward in the middle who can pin back the defense, which puts too much pressure on the wingers when they get near the box..."

"Their original starting striker, Peter Oliver, is injured," Clemente reminded him.

Wang Lie nodded. "I know. But even before he was injured, he wasn't great at scoring. Oliver isn't a natural goal-scorer, and he didn't pose much of a threat to the opposing defense. I started thinking, if I were there, what would I do? And then I suddenly understood why McNeil called me:

"First, he needs someone in the front court to link the two wings. Second, he needs someone who can score. Combined with the internal issues at Tyne, he probably feels I’m the best candidate."

After Wang finished his analysis, Clemente nodded repeatedly. "Ha, it seems you’ve made up your mind. At first, you said you didn't really want to go to Tyne, so I thought you’d be hesitant for a long time..."

Wang Lie said, "I just felt I didn't have much time to waste. Since the conditions are decent, there’s no point in putting on an act. It’s better to make a decision. Tyne is sincere. Once the contract with Sophon United is terminated, I’ll sign with Tyne directly. You’ve already negotiated the terms, so a slight difference in salary doesn't matter much..."

Clemente agreed. "Fine, I’ll arrange to meet Hall tomorrow. Let’s end this mess and look forward."

"Yes, look forward, and move forward," Wang Lie nodded.

He had obtained a new "cheat," yet he had been tied to one spot by this drama, unable to do anything. It felt terrible. Fortunately, Wang Lie felt he could see the dawn—the light was right ahead.

But first, he had to start running. Only by running could he dash out of the fog and the darkness; only by running could he approach that light. Just like playing on the pitch—you only get scoring chances if you run. If you just stand there waiting, the ball will never come to you.

***

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