Dream training system

"Yang Yang!"

The voice drew closer, resonating through the darkness like a beacon. He had no idea how long he had been running, but eventually, a faint light appeared in front of him, piercing the dark void that had held him captive. The light was so intense that it blinded him, forcing him to close his eyes. Slowly, he began to adjust, and when he finally dared to open them, he was greeted with a sight that left him both awestruck and bewildered.

He was standing on a football pitch.

The soft green grass underfoot, the goals at either end, the crisp white lines marking the field, and the silent, empty stands surrounding it—it was all too familiar, yet it felt surreal.

"Where is this?" Yang Yang's voice trembled as he asked the question, though it seemed directed more at the empty air than anything else.

To his surprise, there was an answer.

"Welcome to the Dream Training System."

The voice was cold and robotic, devoid of any emotion. Startled, Yang Yang spun around, expecting to see someone, but there was nothing—no one.

"Who? Who's there?" he called out loudly, his voice echoing across the pitch.

"Don't be afraid. I'm here to help you," the voice replied, the same chilling tone surrounding him like an invisible presence.

"Help me?" Yang Yang repeated, skepticism lacing his words.

"Don't you want to be a professional player and compete with Ronaldo?" the voice asked, its tone softening slightly, as if coaxing him.

"Yes, but..." Yang Yang hesitated, the enormity of what was being suggested making him falter.

"I can help you," the voice assured him, almost kindly this time.

Yang Yang couldn't believe what he was hearing. It felt absurd, too surreal to be true. This had to be a dream—there was no other explanation. How else could he make sense of this strange encounter?

"You're right; you really are dreaming. Take a look," the voice said, as if reading his thoughts.

As soon as the words faded, the stadium around him began to blur, the image distorting like a mirage. Moments later, it shifted, revealing a scene that was all too familiar—his own room, the small, low-ceilinged space where he had fallen asleep. And there, lying on the bed, was himself.

"This… what's happening?" Yang Yang stammered, his voice filled with astonishment.

The scene changed again, the empty grandstand of the stadium reappearing, but the voice offered no further explanation.

"This is the Dream Training System," the voice repeated, the weight of those words sinking into Yang Yang's mind.

He took several deep breaths, trying to steady himself, to make sense of the extraordinary situation he found himself in. He realized that whatever this was, it was beyond anything he had ever imagined.

The voice seemed to sense his need for time, remaining silent as Yang Yang grappled with his emotions.

After a few moments of silence, Yang Yang felt a renewed sense of courage, a determination sparked by the impossible opportunity before him.

"You just said you could help me. How?" he asked, his voice steadying as his childhood dream of playing alongside superstars like Ronaldo resurfaced with a powerful allure.

"With the Dream Training System, as long as you work hard, you can become the best player in the world—no, the Greatest Player of All Time," the voice declared with unwavering certainty.

"How can that be possible?" Yang Yang's skepticism was evident in his voice.

"You don't believe it?" the voice asked, challenging his doubt.

Yang Yang shook his head without hesitation. The idea seemed too far-fetched, too extraordinary to be real.

His mind flashed to Almere's head coach, Johnny Rep, a man whose football credentials were beyond question. Rep had once been a Dutch international, a teammate of the legendary Johan Cruyff at Ajax. Together, they had dominated European football, winning numerous Eredivisie titles and three consecutive European Cups, cementing their place in football history. After leaving Ajax, Rep's career took him to Valencia CF, SC Bastia—where he was a UEFA Cup runner-up—and finally to Saint-Étienne, where he won the Ligue 1 title alongside Michel Platini.

Johnny Rep's influence on Dutch football and Ajax was immense, and it was through his efforts that Almere, a club only seven years old, became Ajax's satellite club, competing in the Derde Divisie, the third tier of Dutch football. Under Rep's guidance, Almere was on the brink of promotion to the Eerste Divisie, the second tier of Dutch football.

Rep had a sharp eye for talent, and he saw potential in Yang Yang. However, despite this, Yang Yang's basic skills were still lacking. At sixteen, he had already missed the critical period for foundational skill development, a fact that weighed heavily on him. How could he accept that he might never reach his full potential?

"Okay, you can see for yourself," the voice said, almost as if it was reading Yang Yang's thoughts.

As the words faded, the training ground around him in the Dream Training System shifted again. This time, the change was dramatic. In an instant, the pitch was filled with the lifelike images of football legends—Pelé, Maradona, Van Basten, Ronaldo, Zidane... Each one was a giant of the game, a player Yang Yang had admired for years. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of these stars, each one seemingly alive and ready to play.

"This is..." Yang Yang murmured, struggling to understand what he was seeing.

"You can choose any one you want to try," the cold, emotionless voice instructed.

Yang Yang paused, his mind racing. This was an opportunity he had only ever dreamed of. After a moment's thought, he reached out mentally towards one of his greatest idols, Ronaldo Nazário—the Brazilian phenomenon.

As his consciousness locked onto Ronaldo, the other figures around the pitch dimmed, their light fading until only Ronaldo remained, glowing brightly in his iconic red-and-blue jersey from his time at Barcelona. Ronaldo quickly stepped onto the training ground, his presence commanding.

Suddenly, a defender materialized on the pitch, wearing a plain white shirt. He took up a defensive position in his own half, eyes locked on Ronaldo, ready to challenge him.

Yang Yang watched in awe as Ronaldo sprang into action. His sprint was fluid and natural, each movement precise and controlled. As he approached the defender, Ronaldo dropped his shoulder to the right, then quickly to the left, executing a rapid step-over with his left foot, followed by another with his right. The defender, momentarily confused by the sudden change in direction, was left flat-footed as Ronaldo surged past him, his left foot guiding the ball effortlessly into the space beyond.

The entire sequence unfolded in the blink of an eye, but to Yang Yang, it was a revelation. Ronaldo's skills were not about unnecessary flair; they were a masterclass in simplicity and effectiveness. Every move was calculated, designed to maximize impact while minimizing effort.

This was Ronaldo's iconic move, the step-over—a technique that had become synonymous with his name. It was deceptively simple, yet in the hands of a master like Ronaldo, it was devastatingly effective.

Yang Yang was stunned. Seeing the move executed so perfectly before his eyes was overwhelming. It wasn't just a skill; it was a weapon, a tool of precision that could dismantle any defense.

As a devoted fan of the Brazilian superstar Ronaldo, Yang Yang was intimately familiar with every facet of his game. He had watched countless clips on television, analyzing each movement with the fervor of someone who deeply admired the sport. But seeing those same skills executed up close, right before his eyes, was a completely different experience. The impact was profound, the shock incomparable.

After Ronaldo's iconic step-over demonstration, the exhibition continued on the training pitch. Ronaldo displayed a dazzling array of his skills, all performed at breakneck speed. Every dribble, feint, and shot was executed with such precision and fluidity that Yang Yang, watching from mere feet away, felt almost compelled to kneel in reverence.

The gap between them was staggering. Yang Yang could only watch in awe, realizing just how far he had to go. It was almost humbling to the point of worship.

Speed had always been one of Yang Yang's strengths, but as soon as he began dribbling, that speed diminished significantly. Yet here was Ronaldo, demonstrating his full repertoire of skills at top speed, his technique flawless, his dribbling speed undiminished. Each movement was a masterclass in efficiency and effectiveness, and Yang Yang couldn't help but notice that Ronaldo was in his prime, wearing the famous red-and-blue jersey from his time at Barcelona.

"This is Ronaldo's skill," the cold voice stated as Yang Yang finally managed to calm himself, the awe in his heart slowly settling.

Yang Yang, still absorbing the spectacle, turned his attention to another figure on the pitch, one that had also been a source of inspiration for him: Marco van Basten.

Deliberately, he focused on the Dutch superstar. Van Basten, known for his elegance and deadly finishing, began to showcase his own array of talents. Inside and outside the penalty area, he demonstrated a variety of footwork, his shooting skills versatile and deadly. His legs moved with remarkable fluidity, stretching effortlessly as he performed complex shooting maneuvers from different angles and positions. There was a certain beauty and rhythm to his movements that left Yang Yang spellbound.

He had watched Van Basten's match footage and highlights countless times before, but this was different. Seeing the Dutch maestro in action, even in this dream-like setting, was a revelation. Only those who have played on the pitch themselves can truly appreciate how difficult it is to perform such moves under pressure, against a resolute defense. It was a reminder of the incredible technique that separates superstars from ordinary players.

Is this what it means to be a superstar? Yang Yang wondered, the thought echoing in his mind.

As he began to process the awe of seeing his two idols, Yang Yang's curiosity grew. He quickly turned his attention to the other legends present on the training ground, eager to witness their demonstrations.

Pele's impeccable rhythm, Maradona's mesmerizing dribbling, Bergkamp's sublime first touch, Cruyff's iconic turn, and Zidane's majestic ball control—all were on full display. It wasn't just the strikers who showcased their talents; midfielders and defenders joined in, displaying their mastery of attacking, passing, and defending. Each superstar left a lasting impression on Yang Yang, their peak performances etched into his mind.

This is what it means to be a superstar! he thought, his heart racing with excitement and inspiration.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, the cold voice interrupted his thoughts. "What do you want to say?" it asked, its tone as emotionless as ever.

Yang Yang took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. "Can the Dream Training System really help me?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of hope and doubt.

"Of course," the robotic voice replied, without a trace of hesitation.

"But my coach said that my basic skills are below average, and I've missed the best age to…" Yang Yang's voice trailed off, bitterness seeping into his words. This had been his greatest source of frustration and pain, a shadow that loomed over his dreams.

He knew it wasn't entirely his fault. His limitations in basic skills were a result of circumstances beyond his control, not a lack of effort. But understanding that didn't make it any easier to accept. It still hurt. It still filled him with a sense of injustice, a refusal to resign himself to what others deemed his limitations.

"He is right; you have indeed missed the optimal age to consolidate your basic skills," the cold voice affirmed, its tone unwavering. "Given your current development potential, it's not surprising if you're released from the team this summer. If you return to China and manage to join a professional club, you might get some playing time, but making a significant impact will be difficult. Perhaps it would have been wise to heed his advice and focus on your studies for a more secure future."

Even though Yang Yang had mentally prepared himself for this harsh reality, hearing it laid out so plainly still struck him deeply. The words stung, filling him with a sense of discomfort and doubt.

After a brief pause, the voice spoke again, its tone as cold and emotionless as before. "But with the Dream Training System, the outcome could be quite different."

"Really?" A spark of hope ignited within Yang Yang, brightening his thoughts.

"Of course," the voice replied, its certainty unshaken. "Although you've missed the best age for developing your foundational skills, it's not entirely impossible to improve them. However, the process will be less effective now than it would have been when you were twelve."

Yang Yang's heart sank slightly, the weight of missed opportunities pressing on him. "What should I do?" he asked, worry etched into his voice.

"Practice," the voice responded simply. "You must engage in repetitive, monotonous basic training over an extended period."

"That's all?" Yang Yang was taken aback. Could it really be that straightforward?

"Yes. As long as you practice the basic skills diligently and meet my standards, you will be able to learn the skills of the player you choose."

Yang Yang's eyes lit up with excitement. The possibility of acquiring these legendary football skills seemed almost too good to be true. He looked around at the superstars on the pitch, his heart racing. Just learning one skill from any of these greats could elevate him to a professional level. The thought of mastering all their skills was almost overwhelming.

However, the cold voice, sensing his mounting excitement, quickly tempered his enthusiasm. "It won't be easy to learn all those skills, and mastering them, knowing how to use them at the right moment, will be even more challenging."

Yang Yang realized the truth in those words. Ronaldo's step-over, Zidane's ball control, Cruyff's turn—these techniques, while iconic, were far from simple. Even seasoned professional players struggled to execute them perfectly under pressure. How could he, a player with subpar basic skills who couldn't even secure a spot in his amateur youth club, expect to master them?

Since arriving in the Netherlands, Yang Yang had often struggled in daily training. When defenders applied pressure, even some of the most basic technical moves seemed beyond his reach. The frustration of not being able to perform at the level he desired was a constant source of anguish.

"I see," Yang Yang nodded, his voice resolute.

"Can you endure this?" the cold voice pressed, seeking confirmation.

"Yes!" Yang Yang replied without hesitation, determination burning in his eyes.

"You should know how tedious basic training can be and how daunting the challenges ahead will be. Are you mentally prepared?"

Yang Yang understood all too well. Johnny Rep had already written him off, convinced that he had reached the limit of his potential. The path ahead required relentless dedication to tedious drills that most players his age had long since outgrown. It would demand determination, resilience, and above all, patience. If he truly wanted to become a professional player, there was no alternative.

The choice was clear: he could either abandon his dream and return to China, or he could embrace the grueling training regimen, no matter how difficult and monotonous it might be.

Yang Yang took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. "I can do it," he declared, his voice firm. This was his last chance to chase his dream of playing professionally, and he was determined to seize it, no matter the cost.

"Good," the voice responded. "The first step is to start with ball control."

"Ball control?" Yang Yang echoed, slightly surprised.

"Yes," the voice confirmed. "This is the most fundamental skill for any footballer. From the moment a child first touches a football at the age of five or six, they begin learning to control the ball."

"Wait until you can juggle the ball two hundred times in a row before moving on to the next step."

"Two hundred in a row?" Yang Yang repeated, taken aback by the seemingly simple challenge. "Isn't that too easy?"

In China, the coach had required players to perform one hundred juggles to be considered proficient. Over the past year, especially since arriving in the Netherlands, Yang Yang had intensified his training in this area. Two hundred juggles didn't seem overly difficult—until the cold voice shattered his illusions.

"You must juggle the ball using the instep, inside, and outside of both feet, your right and left knee, both shoulders, and finally, your head. You need to juggle the ball two hundred times in a row, using all these parts of your body, to meet the prerequisites for the next phase of training."

"What?" Yang Yang's face fell. The challenge had suddenly become far more daunting.

This wasn't just about mindlessly juggling a ball—it required mastering control over every part of his body, refining his touch to an almost impossible level of precision. The task was no longer a simple drill; it was a grueling test of skill and endurance, designed to push him to his limits.

But Yang Yang knew that this was his only path forward. If he wanted to become the player he dreamed of being, he would have to embrace the challenge, no matter how overwhelming it seemed.

With renewed determination, he steeled himself for the arduous journey ahead.