The worst player

"Who is he?" the Flevoland head coach muttered, squinting at the pitch as Helen Parkhurst made their substitution. The black-haired boy who had just come on was completely unfamiliar to him, and there was no information about this player in the scouting reports they had gathered.

"I don't know, it's the first time I've seen him," the assistant coach replied, equally perplexed.

Flevoland's coaches, despite their preparation, were at a disadvantage in situations like this. As a school team, they lacked the resources and network of a professional club to gather extensive intel on every opponent. Their knowledge was limited to the line-ups from Helen Parkhurst's previous games and general player statistics. For someone like Yang Yang, who had never made an appearance for Helen Parkhurst before, they had absolutely no information.

"I think he's just a temporary player who's been brought in at the last minute," the assistant speculated, his tone dismissive.

The situation seemed clear to the Flevoland coaching staff: Helen Parkhurst had suffered a significant blow with the injury to both their starting and backup right-backs. Now, they had been forced to field an unknown and, presumably, inexperienced player in that crucial position. This was an opportunity that Flevoland's strong left-winger, who had been tormenting the right side of the defense all game, could exploit.

The head coach, sharing his assistant's assessment, nodded in agreement. He was confident that Dick Van Poel had been left with no choice but to put in a makeshift replacement, likely someone who had little experience and was not originally intended to play in this match.

With this in mind, the coach immediately moved to the touchline and signaled to his players, gesturing emphatically toward the left side of the pitch. The message was clear: continue to attack from the left, target the new right-back, and press the advantage.

Today, he was determined to secure a decisive victory over their city rivals. A strong win not only meant three points but would also serve as a significant morale booster for his team. The prospect of overwhelming Helen Parkhurst's weakened right side was too good to pass up, and he intended to make the most of it.

...

...

"Why is he being subbed in?" Henk Dimer muttered in disbelief, his eyes fixed on the touchline where Yang Yang was preparing to come on. It seemed inconceivable to him that Dick Van Poer would make such a decision at this critical juncture of the game.

"Has he given up on the match?" Henk wondered, the thought gnawing at him.

Around him, his teammates shared his sentiments, their frustration spilling over.

"What happened?"

"Why would Van Poer make this substitution?"

"Why is he putting that guy on?"

"This is it, we're done. If he comes on, we'll lose for sure."

The atmosphere among the Helen Parkhurst players was one of dismay. Despite Yang Yang's noticeable improvement over the past few months, the memories of his earlier struggles on the training ground were still fresh in their minds. To them, he was still the player with poor basic skills, the one who had been the weakest link in the team. And the tension between Yang Yang and Henk Dimer had only deepened the distrust.

No one could see past the Yang Yang they once knew, the one who struggled to keep up in training. They couldn't believe that someone with such a history could step up in such a high-pressure situation.

"Don't worry so much," Henk Dimer snapped, trying to regain some semblance of leadership. "We need to stabilize our defense first. Make sure we don't concede another goal, and then we can try to equalize." There was a steely determination in his voice, though his frustration was evident.

After a pause, he added, "This guy isn't reliable. Let's not give him the ball."

With that, Henk turned and walked away, leaving his teammates with a bitter taste in their mouths. He knew his own performance had been subpar—Flevoland's midfield had suffocated him with relentless pressure, and the lack of support from his teammates had left him isolated and ineffective. The frustration of being unable to live up to his own expectations was clearly weighing on him.

The prospect of losing to their city rivals, Flevoland, was becoming all too real. As Henk Dimer walked back to his position, he couldn't shake the sinking feeling that this match was slipping away from them, and now, with Yang Yang on the field, the odds seemed even bleaker.

...

...

Amid the chorus of questioning murmurs and doubtful exclamations from the stands, Yang Yang stepped onto the field and took up his position in the defensive zone as the right-back. The weight of the moment was palpable, as he could feel the skepticism radiating from all directions—not just from his teammates on the pitch, but also from the fans outside and even from head coach Johnny Rep, who sat behind Dick Van Poer, his expression unreadable but tinged with uncertainty.

Yang Yang understood why. If there had been any other viable options, he knew he wouldn't have been chosen. This was a situation born of necessity, not confidence. But now that he was on the pitch, he was determined to make the most of this rare opportunity. He knew he had to prove himself, not just to the coaches and his teammates, but to himself as well.

His first task was clear: defense. Though Yang Yang considered himself an attacking player at heart, he was aware that this wasn't the time to think about personal preferences. The coach had given him a specific role, and he had to execute it flawlessly if he wanted any hope of future playing time. Disobeying instructions was out of the question, especially at this level—even if it was only a school team.

Yang Yang's gaze settled on Flevoland's number seven, the player who had been wreaking havoc on Helen Parkhurst's defense all game. The left-winger stood just a few yards away, his presence commanding and his confidence evident.

"I've heard of you," the winger said with a slight chuckle, his eyes narrowing as he tried to size Yang Yang up.

"Have you?" Yang Yang responded, though his tone was neutral.

"They say you're the worst player in the Almere youth team."

Yang Yang felt a flare of anger rising within him, but before he could react, a memory of Zax's voice echoed in his mind.

"He's trying to get under your skin," Zax reminded him, bringing clarity to the moment.

Yang Yang took a deep breath, letting the anger dissipate. He realized the winger was watching his every move, hoping to see a crack in his composure. But instead of lashing out, Yang Yang surprised his opponent by remaining calm, much to the winger's evident annoyance.

This guy is more composed than I thought, the winger mused. He had expected the rookie to react impulsively, but Yang Yang's restraint was unexpected.

"You're new, aren't you? First time playing?" the winger continued, trying a different approach.

Yang Yang ignored the taunt, keeping his focus on the movement of the game in front of him. He knew that engaging in pointless banter would only distract him from the task at hand.

"Your first game, and you're up against me. Tough luck, kid. This will be your first and last game," the winger said, a smug grin spreading across his face as he called for the ball from his teammates, eager to exploit the perceived weakness.

Yang Yang finally turned to look at him, his expression blank. "Are you done talking? Or will you die if you stay quiet for once?" he said, his voice steady and laced with just enough disdain to unsettle his opponent.

The winger's grin faltered for a moment, his pride pricked by Yang Yang's response. He sneered, his tone turning colder. "Alright, let's see if you can back that up. You just wait."

With the ball now at his feet, the winger was determined to teach this newcomer a lesson, but Yang Yang was ready. He had nothing to lose, and in his heart, he knew this was his chance to prove that he belonged on this field. The game was far from over, and Yang Yang was about to show everyone, especially himself, what he was capable of.

...

...

When the game resumed, Helen Parkhurst was down 2-0, and things were not looking up. Henk Dimer, their key player, was being tightly marked by the Flevoland midfielders, leaving the team in disarray and unable to organize effective attacks. Flevoland quickly regained control of the midfield, pressing forward with confidence.

As soon as Flevoland's number seven saw his team recover possession, he eagerly raised his hand, signaling for the ball to be played out to the left wing. He was determined to teach the newcomer, Yang Yang, a harsh lesson and cement his dominance on the pitch.

"Yang, be careful," Coach Dick Van Poer shouted from the touchline, his voice laced with concern. This was Yang Yang's first real test since coming off the bench, and despite his experience, Van Poer couldn't help but feel anxious. He had little faith that Yang Yang could hold his own against Flevoland's best player.

But Yang Yang was already focused, his senses heightened. Thanks to the enhanced awareness provided by "God's Vision," he could track the ball's trajectory and anticipate the movements of Flevoland's number seven. As Van Poer's voice echoed in his ears, Yang Yang locked onto his defensive target, preparing himself for the challenge ahead.

Last night, in the Dream Training System, Zax had drilled him extensively on defense, particularly on fundamental defensive techniques designed to cope with high-pressure situations like this one. Zax's words were fresh in his mind: "The situation on the pitch is constantly changing; everything must be handled in the moment. No one can help you out there—only yourself."

"When defending one-on-one, the most important thing is to establish an unbreakable position first. Be patient and follow your opponent's movements closely. Don't rush in blindly," Zax had emphasized.

Yang Yang kept these instructions at the forefront of his mind as he squared off against Flevoland's number seven. He deliberately maintained a small distance, refusing to be baited into making a premature challenge. His eyes never left his opponent, taking in every movement, every shift in weight, while also using "God's Vision" to keep a comprehensive overview of the field.

Flevoland's number seven had been having an outstanding game, tearing through Helen Parkhurst's right side like it was Swiss cheese. His confidence was soaring, and he fully expected to make short work of this new, inexperienced defender. After all, Yang Yang was just a rookie, right?

Yang Yang, however, was anything but intimidated. He knew that effective interception was more about disrupting the opponent's rhythm than simply taking the ball. It required careful preparation and timing, something he had drilled over and over with Zax.

As the winger moved forward with the ball, his left foot poised to make a break, Yang Yang recognized the pattern from his earlier observations on the sidelines. The winger wasn't being subtle about his intentions, and Yang Yang was ready.

The number seven smirked, confident that he would easily bypass this newcomer. But as he entered Yang Yang's defensive zone, Yang Yang took a calculated step back, then immediately surged forward, cutting off the winger's left foot with his right. The winger, taken aback, instinctively halted, pulling the ball to his right foot and attempting a feint.

But Yang Yang's move had been a feint as well. As soon as the winger shifted his balance, Yang Yang quickly stepped back, closing the distance between them. Anticipating the winger's next move, Yang Yang moved forward again, targeting the same left foot.

The winger was now visibly frustrated. His confidence began to waver as he realized this wasn't going to be as easy as he had thought. He paused once more, switching the ball back to his left foot, ready to force his way through Yang Yang's defense.

"Is this for real?" the winger thought, irritated. "See how I deal with you now!"

But Yang Yang was one step ahead. As the winger attempted to break inside, Yang Yang suddenly shifted his stance, turned slightly to his left, and as the winger made his move, Yang Yang's left foot remained planted, while his right foot darted out to intercept the ball.

Zax's words from the special training echoed in his mind: "Either the player passes, but the ball stays with you, or the ball passes, but the player stays."

In the blink of an eye, the winger tried to push past, but Yang Yang's foot met the ball cleanly, halting the advance. The ball deflected away, and Helen Parkhurst's central defender, who had been covering behind Yang Yang, quickly chased it down and cleared it out of the penalty area.

The stadium erupted in shock and celebration. The fans, who had been bracing for another Flevoland goal, were now cheering wildly. Flevoland's number seven stood there, stunned, unable to believe that this unknown player had just taken the ball from him. Was it luck? A coincidence? It had to be—surely this rookie couldn't be that good.

The Helen Parkhurst players were equally surprised. None of them had expected Yang Yang to succeed in his first defensive challenge, least of all Henk Dimer, who was particularly taken aback.

"Was that just a fluke?" Henk wondered, still skeptical. "There's no way this guy is that strong."

But the crowd's applause was deafening, and it wasn't just the casual spectators who were impressed. The more experienced onlookers, including Johnny Rep, Dick Van Poer, and the middle-aged Dutchman on the sidelines, had seen the entire sequence unfold clearly.

This wasn't just a routine defensive play—it was a battle of wills, a display of tactical discipline and mental fortitude. Yang Yang had remained calm under pressure, disrupting the winger's rhythm and executing a decisive tackle. The efficiency and composure with which he handled the situation were what truly stood out.

"Is this really the same Yang Yang?" they all wondered, astonished by the transformation they were witnessing on the pitch.