Chapter 64: A Match for the History Books
On the day he sent his wife and children to the airport, Wang Lie finished training and chose not to return home, heading straight to the Northumberland Football City instead.
This was not because he wanted to avoid returning to that empty, desolate luxury mansion.
Although he had just experienced a bustling month of family life, suddenly returning to that massive villa where no children would joyfully rush forward to greet him, and no smiling wife would tell him from the kitchen that dinner would be ready in a moment, did indeed make it momentarily difficult for him to adapt.
However, as a Chinese professional footballer, he had long learned to endure this kind of solitude and loneliness.
Things were much better now.
In the past, looking across the entire European top-five leagues, he was the sole Chinese player. Every time he traveled back to the national team for matches, and every time he returned to his club afterward, those arduous journeys spanning thousands upon thousands of kilometers were made entirely alone.
Was that not its own form of loneliness?
Of course, the situation had changed since then.
An increasing number of Chinese players were now active in European football.
In the past, merely securing a club contract in Europe gave a player a high probability of being selected for the national team.
That was no longer guaranteed. If your performance was mediocre and you were merely playing for a European club, it was no longer enough to earn a national team call-up.
The prime example of this was Wang Lie himself.
Because he had been benched by Sven Herden for half a season at Sofun United, he had not even been called up for the national team's World Cup qualifiers... If this had happened fifteen years ago, it would have been utterly unimaginable!
The sole reason Wang Lie was staying at the Northumberland Football City tonight was that tomorrow marked their twenty-fifth league match of the season, a home fixture against Brighton Whitehills.
On the eve of an away match, the team would arrive in the host city in advance and check into a hotel.
Home matches were far less troublesome; they could stay directly in the state-of-the-art football city built by the club's massive investment, where the accommodation standards were comparable to a five-star luxury hotel.
Furthermore, the training facilities, physiotherapy and recovery equipment, and catering services here were far more professional and convenient than any hotel, shielding them from the disturbances of other guests, the media, and fans.
Every Tyne player included in tomorrow's matchday squad would spend the night at the sports city.
After finishing dinner this evening, the players gathered in the entertainment center, though not to watch the ping-pong battle between Wang Lie and Sonny Dean.
Instead, they were there to watch a match.
They were watching the second "North-West Derby" of the season.
Do professional players watch other teams' matches just like ordinary fans?
Of course they did.
While they didn't watch every single game, they tuned in for important and crucial fixtures whenever conditions allowed.
The clash between the Scousers and Sofun United—the two most successful football clubs in England—unquestionably qualified as an "important and crucial fixture."
Moreover, this match had a direct bearing on the Tyne players.
Following the conclusion of the previous round of league fixtures, Sofun United had risen to third place with forty-six points after defeating Leicester Fortress while the Scousers lost to Tyne. The Scousers, who were originally third, dropped to fourth with forty-five points.
As long as this match produced a winner and a loser, regardless of the outcome, it would at the very least give the Tyne players a clear gauge of how far they were from securing a Champions League qualification spot...
Yes, although Wang Lie had not explicitly stated that this "bigger stage" was the Champions League, ever since their victory over the Scousers, the topic of the Champions League had become a frequent subject of conversation in the Tyne dressing room.
If a trending topics list were maintained in the Tyne dressing room, `#UEFAChampionsLeague#` would undoubtedly have remained near the top all week, maintaining a steady surge in popularity.
Consequently, without any formal organization, players trickled into the training base's entertainment center in twos and threes after dinner to watch the live broadcast of the Derby on the projection screen.
"Who are you backing?"
Before the live broadcast began, the players chatted while waiting for the match to start.
Predicting scores and match outcomes formed the main subject of their conversations.
"I hope Sofun United wins!"
"Why?"
"Because then the Scousers will have fewer points..."
"They only have one point less!"
"A point is still a point! Let me tell you, that exact single point might end up deciding our fate in the end!"
Following the previous round of league matches, thanks to the three points earned from their 3:2 home victory over the Scousers, combined with the failure of the higher-ranked teams Sydenham and Widdrington Hill to win their matches, Tyne's league ranking had suddenly climbed two places.
They now sat tenth with thirty points.
They were five points adrift of the seventh-place UEFA Conference League qualification spot.
They were six points away from the sixth-place Europa League qualification spot.
And they were fifteen points away from the fourth-place Champions League qualification spot...
Despite three hard-fought league matches, they had only managed to narrow the gap from sixteen points to fifteen.
That sounded rather discouraging.
Yet not a single Tyne player was willing to step forward to pour cold water on the mood or play devil's advocate.
On the contrary, mirroring the conversation just moments ago, they had begun earnestly calculating their distance from next season's Champions League.
Closing the gap by even a single point mattered; depriving an opponent of a single point mattered... In short, every single detail was being scrutinized and measured.
Wang Lie did not participate in the discussion. Given his current status, whatever he said might instantly kill the conversation.
Most of the time, he had to restrain his urge to chime in and give opinions.
He simply observed quietly from the crowd.
Then, just as the match was about to begin, he noticed Sonny Dean slip in quietly, taking a seat silently at the very back while everyone else was engrossed in heated debate.
Wang Lie still said nothing, merely withdrawing his gaze and turning his attention to the projection screen.
The screen displayed the footage of the players gathering in the tunnel.
Among them was his national team teammate, Chi Zhen.
***
Chi Zhen stood in the player tunnel of the Liverpool Grand Stadium, the singing of the home fans drifting in from outside.
This was the pre-match moment of waiting to walk out onto the pitch, yet his mind was wandering.
He thought of the visit he had received a few days prior from the national team's head coach, Manager He.
On the surface, Manager He had come to check on his condition.
Yet Manager He had always kept a close eye on him, and given that he played for a high-profile powerhouse like the Scousers, what condition possibly required an in-person assessment?
Chi Zhen knew the real reason: he had lost the match.
He had tried his best to appear before Manager He as someone who had already moved on from the defeat.
After all, three days had passed since the match, and by then, he should have moved past it.
Yet, truth be told, he still found himself periodically recalling the match from a week ago.
He remembered the look in Brother Wang's eyes right before scoring that goal.
Despite the days that had passed, and despite Brother Wang not being by his side, remembering that look sometimes still sent a chill down his spine.
He knew Brother Wang was always capable of achieving the impossible, which was why he was so widely loved and admired.
Yet for a thirty-eight-year-old Brother Wang to pull off a hat-trick and complete a miraculous comeback... that simply stretched Chi Zhen's comprehension.
At the very least, Chi Zhen knew with absolute certainty that he himself could never achieve such a feat at thirty-eight.
Scoring a hat-trick against a giant club in the Premier League at thirty-eight years old?
By that age, he'd probably be sitting at home watching matches on television...
He still couldn't wrap his head around how a match where his team had played so brilliantly, securing a two-goal lead in less than thirty minutes, had ultimately transformed into Brother Wang's personal showcase.
Throughout the past week, he had constantly searched for the answer to that question without success.
Manager He's visit had failed to untangle his confusion either.
The coach had simply offered a few words of comfort and encouragement.
Chi Zhen had not asked Manager He what he and Brother Wang had discussed.
He didn't dare ask, nor did he have the nerve.
Besides, without asking, he could more or less guess the drift of it.
Given Brother Wang's performance in that match, barring any unforeseen circumstances—such as an injury—Manager He would undoubtedly recall Brother Wang to the national team.
In the past, a recall would have meant nothing.
Previously, Brother Wang had also been in the national team, but he was either relegated to the bench or forced to play a supporting role.
That was Manager He's tactical requirement.
Manager He had maintained that approach for nearly a year.
Much of the internal friction within the national team had started precisely when Manager He benched Brother Wang.
To be honest, when Manager He first implemented that strategy, Chi Zhen hadn't supported it. He had even felt a sense of dread about returning for national team duty—the mere thought of facing Brother Wang whom he had "pushed" to the bench, and knowing Brother Wang's rabid fans would lambast him online, gave him a headache.
Later... after experiencing more and establishing solid performances of his own within the national team, he gained confidence and gradually stopped caring as much.
Another major reason, perhaps, was that while Sven Herden was managing Sofun United and freezing Brother Wang out of club matches, Brother Wang's performances for the national team had also faltered, depriving his extremist fans of their footing...
The situation was entirely different now.
With five goals and one assist across his last three matches, a returning Brother Wang would certainly no longer accept a spot on the bench—especially with several matches remaining, meaning Brother Wang's resurgence was far from over.
And because Chi Zhen had lost both the match result and the individual duel in his direct confrontation with Brother Wang... his own tactical standing in the national team was naturally no longer as secure as before—this time, Manager He hadn't even guaranteed his tactical position in the squad.
Manager He had mentioned that despite returning home, he would still follow this match closely, vowing to watch the live stream even though the kickoff time fell in the small hours of the morning in China.
Had the coach told him that specifically to spur him on to summon a better performance in this match?
In truth, Manager He didn't need to say a word; Chi Zhen was fully resolved to deliver a superior performance in this game, at the very least outperforming his display against Brother Wang!
And it wasn't just him; the entire team felt the same way.
Leading up to this match, Sofun United had spent the entire week mocking them relentlessly.
From the club's official channels down to former legends and ordinary fans, everyone was ridiculing the Scousers for failing to beat a "mercenary" outfit like Tyne.
Worse still, Sofun United had leapfrogged them in the league table precisely because of the Scousers' defeat.
Sofun United fans had even launched a viral social media campaign: "Say Thank You to the Scousers!"
Every time that topic was shared and discussed online, it was akin to ripping open the Scousers' healing wounds and displaying them to the entire world.
Right after losing to Tyne, the Scousers might not have felt this enraged, but after enduring a full week of humiliation from Sofun United, the Scousers' players were now boiling with fury.
Since their fixtures against Tyne were over, they could do nothing to retaliate against Tyne no matter how angry they were. It mattered not; they could vent every ounce of their simmering rage onto their current opponents.
In the dressing room moments ago, Scousers manager Giuseppe Gil had not delivered a fiery, impassioned pre-match speech. Instead, he simply read aloud selected comments and posts left online by Sofun United fans, club legends, and the Manchester media.
The effect was astonishingly potent.
Listening to the unhinged mockery of the internet trolls, the Scousers' players were left breathing heavily, their eyes burning red with fury.
They looked as though they wanted to tear Sofun United apart right that second.
Chi Zhen felt it even more acutely, layering the Sofun United fans' attacks against him on top of the bitter taste of defeat to Brother Wang, compounded by the abuse and sarcasm hurled by Brother Wang's extremist fan base...
At that moment, he felt like a room with sealed windows filled with flammable gas, waiting for a single spark.
The referee and assistant referees emerged from the locker rooms, strode down the tunnel, and took their positions at the front of the line.
"Gentlemen, are you ready? It's time to take the pitch."
***
The entertainment center in the Northumberland Football City was dead silent...
Well, calling it dead silent wasn't entirely accurate.
The cheers, roars from the stadium, and the commentator's ecstatic cries echoed through the audio equipment inside the entertainment center.
The room was far from quiet; it was actually rather noisy.
It was just that the Tyne players gathered before the projection screen had fallen completely mute.
Commentator Connor Cawley's voice was filled with sheer, incredulous shock, tinged with a mild, rubbernecking delight at someone else's misfortune:
"Chi!! Chi!! That is his second goal of the match! Even with the game nearly over, Chi is still fighting tooth and nail for every scoring opportunity! He's done it! His brace has helped his team stretch their lead to an astonishing eight goals against Sofun United with less than five minutes remaining!"
On the screen, instead of celebrating, Chi Zhen bolted straight into the Sofun United net, grabbed the football, turned, and sprinted back toward the center circle!
He acted as though he felt the scoreline wasn't humiliating enough yet!
Fortunately, his teammates swarmed him, virtually tackling him into a celebration to stop him from actually placing the ball back on the center spot...
In the top-left corner of the broadcast screen, the live score and match clock were displayed:
Scousers 8:0 Sofun United
2nd 41:27
Forty-one minutes into the second half, translating to the eighty-sixth minute of the match.
Connor Cawley's voice continued to soar in disbelief: "Ladies and gentlemen! Who could have predicted the second Derby of the season would unfold like this? This is supposed to be a clash representing the highest standard of football in this country! Yet facing the Scousers, Sofun United look like an amateur outfit... No! Even an amateur side wouldn't suffer a worse thrashing than this against the Scousers!
"An 8:0 scoreline is not only the Scousers' largest-ever victory over Sofun United, but it is also Sofun United's heaviest defeat in the English top flight, and indeed their worst loss since the club's founding in 1902! Even factoring in their pre-merger history, this remains their most agonizing defeat! This match will be forever etched into the history books of both clubs and English football as a whole!
"Unbelievable, inconceivable... From the very beginning, the Scousers kept their foot jammed all the way down on the accelerator! Scoring three goals in a frantic three-minute spell between the twenty-first and twenty-fourth minutes to take a 3:0 lead... and in the second half, Sofun United looked as though they had completely surrendered, standing idly by while the ball flew into their net time and time again!
"I honestly don't even know how to commentary this match. Neither the Scousers nor Sofun United played like normal teams. This is not a normal match that can be used as any kind of benchmark..."
Whatever else he said, the Tyne players clustered in front of the projection screen no longer cared.
They finally snapped out of their initial shock and stupor.
Someone muttered, "Is this genuinely the same Scousers side we beat last week?"
Another answered, "Yeah, even the starting lineup hasn't changed..."
"And we actually beat them? That's insane!"
They turned their heads to look at Wang Lie.
Some looked at him because Wang Lie was the ultimate architect of their victory over the Scousers. It was less that Tyne had beaten the Scousers, and more that Wang Lie had beaten them single-handedly.
Others looked at him, recalling the words Wang Lie had repeated on numerous occasions:
"You are strong."
Still others looked at him out of pure curiosity, wondering how he—a legendary former icon of Sofun United—would react to such a humiliating rout...
Wang Lie could feel their surreptitious glances. His expression remained entirely neutral; he wore neither the gaping shock of some nor the gloating amusement of others.
His face was as calm as still water.
Given his deep emotional ties to Sofun United and his bitter enmity toward the Scousers, today's outcome thoroughly defied his expectations.
He had never imagined that the Sofun United side led by Sven Herden could accumulate such a staggering array of humiliating records in a single match.
Yet he felt no sense of sadistic glee, nor did he feel satisfied that Herden was finally getting what he deserved.
He merely felt an intensified surge of fury toward Herden—how dare you drag a top-tier powerhouse like Sofun United into this state! And you still have the audacity to claim you are the most suitable helmsman for this club?!
Matchday thirty-five—if you haven't been sacked by then, I will personally teach you a lesson on the pitch, Mr. Sven Herden...
With that thought, Wang Lie stood up, turned around, and walked out of the entertainment center without saying goodbye to anyone. He had no desire to watch the remainder of the match.
Everyone in the room noticed Wang Lie's departure, but nobody called out to him; they merely watched him leave in silence.
Considering his historical status as a Sofun United legend, everyone understood why he chose to leave without offering a word of farewell.
Once Wang Lie was gone, the atmosphere in the entertainment center grew instantly livelier, as certain remarks were genuinely difficult to air in his presence...
"Tell me, if we didn't have Wang, would we have ended up just like Sofun United last week?"
"No way. Without Wang, we might have lost, but we certainly wouldn't have conceded eight goals!"
"That's true, we don't have that kind of deep-seated blood feud with the Scousers anyway..."
"Looking at it that way, Sofun United really aren't all that special... They lost by eight goals to the Scousers, and we beat the Scousers by one goal. By rough calculation, doesn't that mean we could beat Sofun United by nine goals?!"
"Nobody calculates football like that!"
"Hahaha!"
The entertainment center erupted into genuine, joyful laughter, living up to its name.
***
"What on earth is this?!"
Despite having watched the entire match, Caesar Vallo still found himself staring in disbelief at the final score displayed on the screen as the final whistle blew.
Sitting beside him, Sam McNeil was utterly lost for words.
"...It's over! The final whistle has blown! The Scousers have claimed victory on home turf in a manner nobody across the globe could have foreseen! Eight-nil! This scoreline will be talked about repeatedly for a long time to come... The Scousers appear to have unleashed all the frustration from their defeat to Tyne last round entirely onto Sofun United. Herden completely lost control of his team out there..."
Accompanied by commentator Connor Cawley's voice, a close-up of Sofun United manager Sven Herden flashed across the television screen.
With a darkened expression, he offered a perfunctory handshake to Scousers manager Giuseppe Gil before storming off the pitch.
As the two men shook hands, Gil's radiant, unmasked smile contrasted sharply with Herden's gloomy scowl, creating a deeply dramatic visual.
After all, everyone knew how mercilessly Sofun United had mocked the Scousers over the past week.
Sofun United legend Nick Waters had publicly posted tweets mocking the Scousers for failing to beat a relegation-threatened "mercenary" squad.
Now that Sofun United had suffered a humiliating, record-breaking defeat to that very same team of Scousers who couldn't beat the "mercenaries," didn't that imply Sofun United couldn't beat those "mercenaries" either?
Therefore, Scousers manager Giuseppe Gil had every right to beam with joy.
Before the match had even concluded, Waters' social media accounts had already been overrun by celebrating Scousers fans and Wang Lie's supporters...
"Is Herden going to be sacked?" Vallo asked.
McNeil shook his head. "Probably not. It's just one match, no matter how terribly they lost."
Vallo let out a breath of relief. "I hope he doesn't get sacked either. That way, when matchday thirty-five rolls around, Wang will have a direct target for his fury."
McNeil glanced at him sideways.
Vallo continued, "I bet Wang is ready to blow a gasket right now. I just hope he channels a fraction of that anger into tomorrow's match against Brighton Whitehills... If we genuinely want to reach next season's Champions League, winning tomorrow is vital for us!"
McNeil chuckled dryly. "Is there ever a match that isn't vital?"
"Whenever we play teams sitting ahead of us in the table, every single one of them matters!"
With the conclusion of earlier Premier League matches that day, seventh-placed Hugheslow had defeated Herringham FC, leapfrogging a Brighton Whitehills side that had a game in hand to claim sixth place.
Consequently, Brighton Whitehills currently sat seventh with thirty-six points.
A direct showdown against them constituted a true six-point match—a victory would not only add three points to Tyne's tally but also strip three points from their opponent, drastically narrowing the gap between the two sides.