Echoes of Greatness: The Rise of a Global Football Sensation

In the early morning, the vast skate park was enveloped in silence. Yang Yang, with his school bag slung over one shoulder, skillfully juggled a football as he entered the park from the east side. The ball danced effortlessly between his feet as he walked, his pace undisturbed by the continuous motion of the ball.

After two weeks of grueling, repetitive basic training, Yang Yang's ball control had improved dramatically. His feet moved with precision, and even as he juggled the ball, he maintained a steady pace, quickly reaching the center of the park.

The heart of the park was a skateboard area, a place that had once been a hub of activity. Yang Yang had heard stories of how it used to be crowded with young skateboarders, filling the area with energy and noise every evening. But those days were gone, and the park had since fallen into disuse, its once vibrant atmosphere now replaced by a quiet desolation.

Yang Yang's juggling training had reached a point where he felt confident in his progress. But Zax, his ever-demanding guide, had now introduced the next phase of training, which required a wall.

Almere was a large city, but finding a suitable wall for training had proven to be a challenge. After searching, Yang Yang finally discovered a graffitied wall in the abandoned skate park. It was the perfect spot—secluded and spacious, with no one around to interrupt his training.

The location was ideal. To the north stood Helen Parkhurst School, and just a short distance to the east was the residential area where his Uncle Shen Ming lived. To the west flowed a river, and to the south lay De Realiteit, the most popular residential area in Almere last year. Despite its prime location, the skate park had been abandoned for some time, and even early morning joggers rarely passed through, leaving Yang Yang undisturbed.

After placing his school bag on the ground, Yang Yang turned to face the wall, standing three meters away with the ball at his feet. This was where his first training session would begin.

He started by kicking the ball against the wall, waiting for it to rebound, and then sending it back with a precise touch. This drill involved a variety of passing techniques—short passes, long passes, volleys, and delicate touch passes—all aimed at improving his control and accuracy. He needed to complete five sets of 20 repetitions with each foot.

As the ball repeatedly struck the wall, the sound echoed in the empty park, creating a rhythm that matched the steady beat of his heart. Despite the monotony of the drill, Yang Yang remained intensely focused. Each pass required him to receive the ball with different parts of his body, adjusting to the varying speeds and angles as it bounced back from the wall.

Zax, ever watchful, offered constant feedback in Yang Yang's mind, correcting his form, refining his technique, and suggesting improvements with each touch.

Thirty minutes later, sweat was already dripping down Yang Yang's face, but he knew this was just the beginning.

Moving back to five meters from the wall, Yang Yang began the second phase of his training. This time, he aimed at specific spots on the wall, using different parts of his feet—the inside and outside of both the left and right foot. Each section of the wall was targeted for five minutes, making for a total of 20 minutes of precise, focused practice.

Despite two weeks of dedicated juggling practice, striking the ball against the wall presented a different challenge. The ball's unpredictable bounce required not only accuracy in his passes but also the ability to control it perfectly on the rebound.

Zax's expectations were as high as ever. Yang Yang needed to complete five sets of 20 repetitions for each part of his foot without a single mistake. The precision required was immense, and even the smallest error meant starting over. The training demanded not just physical skill but also intense concentration and attention to detail.

Without realizing it, Yang Yang had been at it for two hours, his clothes soaked with sweat, his body tired but his mind sharp and focused. Lost in his training, he remained oblivious to his surroundings.

Unbeknownst to him, not far behind, on a path within the park, a middle-aged couple had paused their morning exercise to watch him. They stood there curiously, observing the young boy's intense focus and dedication as he worked tirelessly against the wall, unaware that he was not alone.

...

...

"What's wrong?" Truus asked her husband inquisitively, noticing his attention fixed on something in the distance.

"Nothing, just curious," the middle-aged Dutchman replied lightly, though his eyes remained on the teenager training against the wall in the skateboard area.

Truus followed his gaze, her eyes landing on the boy who was diligently kicking a football against the wall. "Is he unusual?" she asked, trying to understand what had caught her husband's interest.

"Huh?" The middle-aged Dutchman clearly didn't grasp her question at first.

"I mean, is it surprising to see someone training like that against a wall?" Truus clarified.

"No, not at all. Lots of people do it—Bergkamp, for example," he replied.

Because of her husband's deep involvement in football, Truus was well-versed in the sport. She knew that many great players, including Arsenal's legendary Dennis Bergkamp, had honed their skills through such basic drills.

"Does he remind you of Bergkamp?" Truus asked boldly, thinking that this might explain why her husband had paused to watch during their morning run.

To her surprise, the middle-aged Dutchman seemed taken aback by the question. "Him?" He shook his head. "He's still a long way from Bergkamp."

"Is it that bad?" Truus pressed.

"He should be about ten meters from the wall," her husband explained. "That's the most common passing distance in the professional leagues, something every professional player must master with a first touch."

"But look at him..." The middle-aged Dutchman pointed toward Yang Yang. "He tries to use both feet, but sometimes he relies too heavily on just one. His basic skills are poor, which means when it comes to an actual match, he'll struggle even more. At his current level, he wouldn't even make it in an amateur league."

Truus rolled her eyes slightly. Her husband had always been brutally honest when it came to football, never sugar-coating his opinions. He spoke with a straightforwardness that could be harsh to those unprepared for it.

"He looks like he's 16 or 17. He's still young. Isn't it too soon to write him off?" she suggested, hoping to soften his critique.

"This is the most fundamental skill in football," her husband continued. "You should master it by the age of twelve. In Spain, they place even more emphasis on it than we do, especially..."

He trailed off suddenly, his expression turning distant, as if something had stirred a painful memory.

Truus noticed the change immediately. She knew that he had been struggling ever since the incident six months ago. Even though everyone around him understood that it wasn't his fault, he hadn't been able to move past it.

In an effort to help him, they had taken a break from everything, moving to Almere and purchasing a house in the De Realiteit villa area, near a large golf course. The idea was to give him a chance to relax and escape from the pressures of football, at least for a while.

What she hadn't expected was that, within just two days of their arrival, her husband would be drawn to the young boy during their morning run.

"If you think he's no good, why are you so curious?" Truus asked, gently steering the conversation away from the past.

The middle-aged Dutchman's mouth twitched slightly. He continued to watch Yang Yang from afar, a hint of something akin to fascination in his eyes. "I'm curious about how long he can keep up this boring and seemingly pointless work," he muttered, almost to himself.

"How do you know it's pointless?" Truus challenged.

"At his age, such basic training is tedious. Boys like him always want to learn something new and exciting. If he perseveres for a long time only to realize in the end that it hasn't made any significant difference, he'll give up. If that's not useless work, what is?"

Truus understood the deeper meaning behind her husband's words. In many ways, the young man's situation mirrored his own—a struggle between dedication and the fear that all the effort might be in vain.

"I don't think it's useless. You can't know whether something will work unless you try it," she countered.

"You're too naive," he replied, a hint of melancholy in his voice.

"And you're too pessimistic," Truus shot back, her tone teasing. "How about we make a bet?" she added, hoping to spark a bit of his old competitive spirit.

"You want to bet?" The middle-aged Dutchman raised an eyebrow, pointing at Yang Yang. "On him?"

"Yes, I think he can stick it out," Truus replied confidently.

"No, Truus. I can tell you with certainty that you'll lose. He won't last even a month," her husband said with conviction. He had seen too many young players with similar struggles, and the outcome was almost always the same.

"Then let's bet," Truus said, spreading her hands with a smile.

"Alright, but remember—you said it," the middle-aged Dutchman agreed, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

The bet was set, but for Truus, it wasn't just about winning. She wanted to see her husband engaged again, even if it was through something as simple as watching a young boy try to improve his football skills. And perhaps, in watching Yang Yang's journey, he might find some inspiration to face his own challenges.

...

...

Yang Yang had no idea that he had become the subject of someone else's wager. He remained focused on his special training, entirely absorbed in the drills Zax had laid out for him.

After completing the wall pass training at ten meters, he moved on to practicing at fifteen and twenty meters. These distances were crucial for developing consistency in his passing accuracy and ball control. The drills themselves were some of the most basic in football, the kind of exercises young players typically master by the age of twelve. Yet for Yang Yang, who was essentially starting from scratch in terms of his technical abilities, they were essential.

As Zax often reminded him, ball control was the foundation of everything else in football. It wasn't the end goal, but it was a critical stepping stone. As Yang Yang's first touch and control gradually improved, his juggling practice would decrease in favor of more advanced, practical drills that better simulated match conditions.

Yang Yang agreed with Zax's approach wholeheartedly. He knew that his improvement depended on mastering these fundamentals, no matter how tedious they might seem.

After completing his morning training, Yang Yang slung his school bag over his shoulder and began walking north, juggling the ball as he went. He soon left the skate park, his focus unwavering.

To a casual observer, there was nothing remarkable about the way Yang Yang moved. But a closer look would reveal a player who had developed good hand-eye coordination, precise control over the ball's movement, and an increasingly refined touch. He was getting better, bit by bit.

Helen Parkhurst School, one of the most prestigious private schools in Almere, was where Yang Yang spent his school hours. It was a top institution, offering education from kindergarten through high school, and it attracted some of the best and brightest students in the region.

In the two weeks since Yang Yang had begun attending, he had become a subject of conversation among the students—not for his academic prowess, which was well known, but for his footballing attempts, which were met with ridicule and sarcasm. Word had spread that Johnny Rep, the respected coach, had repeatedly dismissed Yang Yang's potential as a footballer, a rumor eagerly shared by Yang Yang's teammates. Everyone knew about it.

Yet Yang Yang hadn't let it affect him. He continued to focus on his training, determined to prove himself. He knew there was only one way to change how others perceived him: by passing the annual assessment and securing his place in Almere's youth team.

As he approached the school gate, Henk Dimer was already there, watching him enter the campus with a look of simmering anger.

In the past two weeks, Yang Yang's performance in team training had steadily improved, particularly in the Rondo competition. Although he was still considered the weakest player on the team, his progress had made it harder for his teammates to mock him as they once did. Yang Yang's newfound skill and determination had even led to Henk Dimer being repeatedly stuck in the circle during Rondo, trying—and often failing—to catch the ball. The frustration had gotten to Dimer, and on more than one occasion, he had felt the urge to lash out at Yang Yang.

"I heard he's been doing well in training lately. The coaching staff is thinking about putting him in the main squad for Saturday's game against ROC Flevoland," an Almere youth player standing next to Dimer remarked casually.

"What?" Henk Dimer was stunned, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Nick got injured. I heard the coach might have him play in a defensive position," the player added.

The Almere club, founded less than seven years ago, was still in its formative stages. Both the youth and first teams were far from perfect, so the youth team worked closely with Helen Parkhurst School. Players aged 16 and 17 represented Helen Parkhurst in the Intercollegiate League in the south of Amsterdam, a competitive environment where even the smallest opportunity to play could be a significant step forward.

ROC Flevoland, like Helen Parkhurst, collaborated with a fourth-division amateur team in their city to develop youth players. They were a tough opponent, not to be underestimated.

Henk Dimer narrowed his eyes, his anger growing. "Then Yang Yang better start praying," he muttered darkly. As the captain of both the youth team and the school team, Dimer felt slighted that he had not received any notice about these developments. The thought of Yang Yang, whom he had always regarded as beneath him, being considered for a spot in the main squad was infuriating.

As Yang Yang made his way across the campus, oblivious to the tension building around him, he remained focused on one thing: continuing his relentless pursuit of improvement. He knew the challenges ahead would be tough, but with Zax's guidance and his own determination, he was ready to face them head-on.