Chapter 59 He Can Still Win!
When Wang Lie suddenly sprinted out of the penalty area, Mason Harper indeed failed to react in the first instance.
By the time he did react, he still did not immediately follow him out.
This was because he considered maintaining the integrity of the defensive line to be more important.
He could not afford to overreact.
Wang Lie was merely making a run; if he were to immediately tail him, wouldn't he just be dancing to Wang's tune?
It wasn't until he saw Katic chip the ball forward—clearly intending it for Wang Lie—that he abandoned his position and charged toward Wang.
At that moment, Wang Lie was just outside the semi-circle of the penalty arc, and the two were not far apart.
He was completely confident that he could step up with perfect timing just as Wang Lie brought the ball under control.
What he hadn't anticipated was that Wang Lie chose not to trap the ball dead at his feet, but instead directed it outward. This plunged Harper into a dilemma: should he lunge for the tackle or stick close to Wang?
That single moment of hesitation granted Wang Lie the space to turn.
By the time he saw Wang turn, he finally stopped hesitating—he sprinted toward the ball, but it was already too late!
Wang Lie completed the shot entirely without interference!
Harper had only enough time to reflexively tilt his head while feeling a gust of wind rush past his face, sharp as a blade.
Because the ball traveled at such extreme speed, he had no time whatsoever to turn his head and track its flight. All he heard was that the already deafening roar of Lizer Park Stadium swell abruptly once more, as if an explosion had gone off!
With his vast experience on the pitch, how could he possibly not know what that meant...
The ball... had gone in!
Only then did he turn his head, and sure enough, he saw his teammate Lucero tumbling down from the air.
Plummeting along with him was the football. After being stopped by the net and robbed of all momentum, the sphere dropped onto the turf inside the goal, bounced a few times, and finally settled into stillness.
Lucero had already crashed to the ground as well, turning his head to stare at the football that was within arm's reach.
It truly was within arm's reach; he only needed to stretch out a hand to scoop the ball out.
But what good would that do?
The goal had already been scored!
"Wang... Wang—!! Wang!!!! Lie!!!! Wang Lie! Wang Lie!!! Ah—!! Unbelievable! Unbelievable! Simply, utterly unbelievable!!"
Conor Cawley was screaming his lungs out like a madman. At this moment, he completely lacked the capacity to care about his broadcast partner Wesley's feelings, because he damn well couldn't control his own voice—if anyone could remain calm in the face of such a breathtaking display, they simply didn't deserve to be a commentator!
"What have we just witnessed? A hat-trick! A hat-trick! A thirty-eight-year-old and four-day-old player has scored a hat-trick in the Premier League! If I recall correctly... this is the oldest hat-trick record in the history of the Premier League! Can you believe it? Wang, already thirty-eight years old, continues to shatter new records! He utterly refuses to understand the meaning of the word 'stop'!"
Luo Jin was equally emotional... no, even more so!
Because he was a Chinese commentator!
"Wang Lie! Ah! Wang Lie!! Ah... a thunderous long-range strike that shatters the heavens! The Skousers' Argentine national goalkeeper Lucero bears the title 'Saint Lucero', but in front of Wang Lie today, he could perform no miracles! Because standing before him is the one and only true deity—Wang—Lie!! This is a thirty-eight-year-old veteran!! He can truly stand tall and proud, looking down upon all the heroes of the realm, and ask just one question...
"Who—else—?!"
Taking advantage of Luo Jin's pause to catch his breath, Zhao Chuanfeng hurriedly chimed in, lest he feel like he was about to suffocate:
"I hope Mr. Herden prepares well for tomorrow's post-match press conference and seriously considers his thoughts on Wang Lie's hat-trick. Is it that Wang Lie is too old and unworthy of playing for Sophorth United, or is it that he is simply afraid to let Wang Lie play! Does a performance like this not belong at Sophorth United? Wang Lie has now set the benchmark for him, so he had better defeat the Skousers in the next round of the league as well, otherwise once the tide goes out, everyone will see who has been swimming naked!"
Luo Jin caught his breath and resumed his passionate outpouring:
"Just ask who else! Under the vast heavens, who else could endure half a season of torment, belittlement, suppression, without even playing a full match, only to return at the 'advanced age' of thirty-eight, facing the league's third-placed Skousers, and complete a hat-trick!
"Who else? Who else could turn the tide with such ultimate individual heroism and rescue a collapsing empire from the brink? When trailing by two goals thirty minutes into the match, he used a hat-trick to deliver three slaps to the faces of those who mocked him, belittled him, insulted him, and underestimated him! Yes, that's right, three! One for each goal!
"Who—else—?!"
When he hammered out those words syllable by syllable, Luo Jin's voice was already choking with emotion. He rubbed his face fiercely with both hands, much like a cat washing its face, struggling desperately to steady his emotions because he still remembered he was broadcasting a live match.
Seeing him in this state, his broadcast partner Zhao Chuanfeng reached out, placed a hand on his shoulder, and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Zhao Chuanfeng was fifty-two years old this year, while Luo Jin was forty-five. The two were not of the same generation, yet they shared the exact same feelings and reactions when it came to Wang Lie.
People nowadays might find this difficult to understand.
Zhao Chuanfeng, belonging to the "post-1980s" generation, could be considered a beneficiary and witness of Chinese football's professional reform—when Chinese football officially launched its reforms in 1994, he was only nine years old, right at the age of boundless energy and vitality. Influenced by the wave of professional football, he fell in love with the sport, dreaming of becoming a professional player and participating in the World Cup.
At the 2006 World Cup in Germany, when the Chinese national team reached the World Cup finals for the very first time, Zhao Chuanfeng was twenty-one and already a professional player, though he had not been selected for the national team.
Watching his seniors wearing the national team jersey on the World Cup stage singing the national anthem, his blood boiled, and he secretly swore that he too must participate in the World Cup as a full international for China.
As it turned out, that dream was not realized until eight years later—at the 2010 South Africa World Cup, the Chinese national team failed to make it to the finals. Even though Zhao Chuanfeng was already a member of that national team squad, he had not been able to fulfill his dream.
It wasn't until the 2014 World Cup that he finally got his wish.
At twenty-nine years old, he stood on the World Cup stage for the first time. As one of the starting eleven, standing tall with his chest out facing the stands, he heard the national anthem begin to play and prepared to sing along.
Yet the moment he opened his mouth, tears began to stream uncontrollably down his face.
That moment became a classic scene etched into the World Cup memories of Chinese football. Many years later, people might not remember who Zhao Chuanfeng was, but as soon as someone mentioned the Chinese player who cried while singing the national anthem on the World Cup stage, everyone knew who it was.
The image of him weeping while singing the national anthem was also the single bright spot for the Chinese team in that tournament.
After three group matches, the Chinese team failed to advance from the group stage and returned home in dejection.
At the time, even Zhao Chuanfeng himself could not have anticipated that just four years later, they would create history for Chinese football at the World Cup.
Four years later, at the 2018 Russia World Cup, the roster of the Chinese national team had changed significantly compared to four years prior. Aside from retaining a handful of veterans who had experienced the Brazil World Cup four years earlier, the squad had been steadily reinforced since the Asian Cup with a fresh wave of both young players and members of the intermediate generation.
Following two or three years of tactical blending, this team was loaded with high expectations from Chinese fans and media alike.
And among them, one player left the most profound impression.
His name was Wang Lie, and he was only eighteen years old.
Zhao Chuanfeng still vividly remembered what team captain Cao Huaren had said to him back then:
"That kid—mark my words, old Zhao, he's definitely going to be the one in the future!"
He had given a thumbs-up.
"The history of Chinese football must have a figure like him written into it."
That World Cup was Wang Lie's first, and in his very first appearance at his maiden global tournament, he scored his first-ever World Cup goal.
With so many firsts converging into one, Zhao Chuanfeng began to believe Captain Cao's words: this kid was truly formidable! He practically felt like the protagonist of a story...
At the Russia World Cup, Zhao Chuanfeng and his teammates created Chinese football history—they historically advanced to the World Cup knockout stage, forging yet another first...
And four years later, at the home-hosted World Cup in China, twenty-three-year-old Wang Lie led the Chinese team to an even greater feat—that Chinese team historically stormed into the World Cup quarter-finals on home soil!
Although by that time both Zhao Chuanfeng and Cao Huaren had already retired from the national team, he still remembered how long he and Captain Cao spent on the phone when Wang Lie's goal helped push China into the quarter-finals—a full two hours and forty-seven minutes. Their phones grew so hot they couldn't be pressed against their ears, so they simply switched to speakerphone and kept on chatting.
During that conversation, Captain Cao mentioned his initial assessment of Wang Lie more than once, his tone brimming with boasting and pride: "Didn't I tell you so back then? I said the history of Chinese football would definitely feature a figure like this kid!"
Thinking back now, Captain Cao had actually been conservative...
It was far beyond just the history of Chinese football; a figure like him now belonged to the history of world football as well!
Zhao Chuanfeng found it difficult to precisely articulate his feelings toward Wang Lie.
He was his junior, his teammate, yet also a superstar he could only look up to—someone whose achievements he could never hope to reach in several lifetimes.
In 2018, his goals enabled Zhao Chuanfeng to achieve the goal of reaching the World Cup knockout rounds.
Without him, Zhao Chuanfeng's professional career might have been far more lackluster.
Because of him, Zhao Chuanfeng's name was able to appear in the annals of Chinese football history, and in a glorious light at that.
From first meeting him when he was merely eighteen, to now where Wang Lie was a thirty-eight-year-old "veteran," what Zhao Chuanfeng saw in Wang Lie today was not just a hat-trick, but the passage of the past twenty years.
And those twenty years could hardly be summed up in a few casual words.
He understood Luo Jin, largely because Luo Jin's personal journey closely mirrored his own.
Even though one was a professional player and coach, while the other was a football commentator.
Luo Jin's career as a commentator began at the 2015 Chile U17 World Cup—also known as the FIFA U17 World Cup—and that tournament marked sixteen-year-old Wang Lie's debut in an international competition.
The destinies of one of China's finest future commentators and China's greatest player were thus cleverly intertwined by fate.
Wang Lie's professional career was, in essence, Luo Jin's professional career.
And since Luo Jin was an exceptionally sentimental person, witnessing Wang Lie, at the age of thirty-eight, still capable of scoring a hat-trick and daring to punch fate in the face, it was inevitable that he would choke up.
The live broadcast continued, and since Zhao Chuanfeng could not offer verbal comfort on air, he could only squeeze his partner's shoulder to convey his support.
Feeling the empathy transmitted by his broadcast partner, Luo Jin's stirred emotions finally subsided slightly.
He took a few deep breaths and resumed his broadcasting duties:
"I know that over the past half year or more... no, perhaps even earlier, over the past year or two, there have always been all sorts of rumors surrounding Wang Lie, some favorable, some unfavorable. Amidst all this gossip, Wang Lie's true visage seemed to become blurred, to the point where even those who once knew him well felt that the Wang Lie everyone spoke of was growing increasingly unfamiliar...
"I don't wish to judge whether those extraneous noises were right or wrong. I only want to say that, in truth, Wang Lie has never changed. He remains the exact same Wang Lie who is forever fiercely competitive, who utterly loathes defeat, and who perseveres to the very end. Exactly identical to the sixteen-year-old boy who first stepped onto the global stage. What has changed, perhaps, is ourselves, and this world...
"In this turbulent world, should we drift with the current, or hold fast to our original aspirations? I'm not saying that drifting with the current is inherently bad, but I feel we ought to grant a little more respect and tolerance to those who hold true to their original intent! Because that is truly difficult! Extremely difficult! So difficult that many people are unwilling to walk that path. Since we are unwilling to tread it, the least we can do is refrain from mocking those still toiling along this road as 'courting needless suffering'...
"Giving up is easy, persistence is hard. Indulgence is easy, steadfastness is hard. Surrender is easy, refusing to kneel is hard. Conceding defeat is easy, but wanting to win... is hard, so very hard! Such a difficult thing is what Wang Lie has persisted in doing for twenty-two years, and moreover... he can still win!"
***
The moment Wang Lie turned and blasted the ball into the Skousers' net, all other sounds vanished from Lizer Park Stadium, replaced entirely by unadulterated cheers.
The ecstatic Tyne supporters poured every ounce of their being into creating what was likely the highest decibel roar in the history of Lizer Park Stadium!
Tang Lin was pulled into a tight embrace by Mr. Berger beside him: "Brilliant! Tang! You're a lucky charm!"
Robbie Dixey was roaring nearby; it was impossible to make out his exact words, only that his face was completely flushed and veins bulged at his temples.
In truth, Tang Lin wasn't entirely composed either.
The instant the football flew into the net, all the emotions he had accumulated over the course of the match transformed into a shout that burst through his throat.
Mr. Berger was right.
He didn't understand football.
But he understood human joy, anger, sorrow, and delight.
He understood anger, resentment, and the joy of seeing a rainbow after the storm.
And that was enough.
Through this, he had come to understand the match as well.
This was a thirty-eight-year-old old man's answer to a fate manipulated by the fake Skousers!
***
Watching Wang Lie trap the ball, turn, and wind up his right leg, Dean had still been wondering if it might be a bit reckless... Wang must have grown impatient again, wanting to take matters into his own hands.
Then he saw the football streak across the night sky like a shooting star and fly into the net.
All his teammates around him cheered and roared as they sprinted away, but he stood frozen in place, slowly raising both hands to cradle his head.
He pulled it off!
He actually pulled it off!!
Good god...
Did you possess his body?
***
Stunned into a similar state of speechlessness was another person, standing just outside the away team's technical area.
"Ah! Damn it!"
"Hell!"
"Ahhhhhhh!"
"FUCK! FUCK!! FUCK!!"
"Why?!"
"God, how cruel you are!"
The air around his ears was filled with the curses and lamentations of his own teammates, but Chi Zhen remained utterly unresponsive, gazing blankly at that figure on the pitch.
Having completed his shot, Wang Lie did not sprint off in celebration; instead, he stood right where he was, spreading his arms wide and roaring toward the heavens.
Chi Zhen couldn't help but look up at the sky himself, half-expecting a dragon to burst out from the clouds...
Naturally, no dragon appeared, but Chi Zhen didn't lower his gaze; instead, he continued staring into the night sky.
The cursing of his teammates had gradually subsided, and now his ears were filled entirely with the cheers of the Tyne fans.
A shred of doubt suddenly bloomed in the depths of his heart:
If even thirty-eight-year-old Brother Wang cannot win, do I truly possess the qualifications to lead the national team?
***
He Zhenyong sat comfortably in the soft, plush sofa, failing to leap up in celebration like the people around him.
This wasn't because he was overly enamored with the sofa's comfortable cushions—he had long since lost the capacity to care about such trivialities.
Equally forgotten was the "Code of Conduct for Watching Matches" he had drafted for himself prior to the game.
No showing of emotion, absolute neutrality, leaving no room for anyone to exploit...
All of it had been cast to the winds.
Before Wang Lie's hat-trick, the so-called code of conduct for watching matches felt like a child's game of house—meticulously prepared for, but ultimately amounting to nothing more than playacting.
In truth, before coming to watch this match, he had some psychological expectations regarding Wang Lie's performance.
It was patently obvious that Wang Lie had been in stellar form lately.
Therefore, expecting Chi Zhen to turn in a masterclass while Wang Lie faltered—thus temporarily burying the debate over who should be the national team's talisman—was utterly unrealistic.
Even so, He Zhenyong had never imagined that Wang Lie's form could reach such heights.
A hat-trick!
And a hat-trick achieved after trailing by two goals!
If Tyne ultimately won the match against the Skousers, the Liverpool media could once again claim that they simply lost to Wang Lie...
Recovering his wits, He Zhenyong began to applaud Wang Lie's hat-trick.
Though deep down, he wished he could bury his face in his hands...
Over the past year and seven months managing the Chinese national team, he had frequently found himself in the eye of the storm, but only now did he feel as though he were sitting directly atop a volcano.
***
"Hahaha! Do you submit, Cesar, do you submit?"
McNeil wrapped an arm around his assistant and partner Cesar Vallo, shouting excitedly in his ear.
Vallo nodded repeatedly: "I submit, I submit, I am truly vanquished this time!"
Nearby, Giuseppe Gil stared out at the pitch with an expression of utter soul-crushing despair.
Dead memories were coming back to attack him once more...
May 4th of the previous year, that high-profile "Northwest Derby"—he had led the Skousers to a 2:3 away defeat against Sophorth United, during which Wang Lie, at thirty-years and seventy-seven days old, became the second-oldest player in Premier League history to score a hat-trick.
In less than a year, Wang Lie had forged a new record and defeated his team yet again.
After losing that match last year, the Liverpool media lamented that his team hadn't lost to Sophorth United, but rather to Wang Lie.
At the time, he had been immensely displeased, feeling that the Liverpool media shouldn't be eroding their own morale while bolstering the enemy.
Not to mention they were spouting nonsense!
Football was a collective sport; no matter how brilliant Wang Lie was individually, he couldn't possibly defeat an entire team by himself!
He refused to admit his team had lost to Wang Lie.
What did the outcome of a single match prove, anyway?
And yet, here he was, leading his team to back-to-back defeats at the hands of Wang Lie, both instances featuring a hat-trick by Wang...
Out of all four career hat-tricks Wang Lie had scored against the Skousers, he had "monopolized" two of them!
He could already imagine what the media would be saying after the match.
And this time, the media would likely feel far more justified.
As for himself, how on earth was he supposed to refute the claim that "the Skousers simply lost to Wang Lie"?
***
PS: The double-chapter update is complete!
Next up, it's back to the rhythm of one chapter a day. Let me build up my manuscript reserves again, striving for another burst of explosive updates when the next major match arrives...