Unconventional Center

Chapter 10: CY9

This winter transfer window was bound to be explosive, and the soccer media were practically grinning from ear to ear. David Álvaro transferred from Mallorca to Atlético Madrid for 30 million euros, and Luis Luá joined Barcelona for 100 million euros. These two stories made for a joyful Christmas for fans. Just when everyone thought this was the climax of the transfer window, two announcements on Deportivo La Coruña’s official website sent the media into a frenzy once again. 21-year-old French player Jean Bourmont left Ligue 1 powerhouse Lyon to officially join La Liga powerhouse Deportivo La Coruña for a transfer fee of 50 million euros. Álvaro, Burmondo, and Lua—all three are young strikers who have already earned worldwide acclaim. Terms like “wonderkid” and “soccer prodigy” have followed them almost since their debuts, and they were already being courted by major clubs as their fame soared. Now that the trio has gathered in La Liga, coupled with former Ballon d’Or winner George Lennon, who arrived at the Bernabéu the summer before last, people are hailing the arrival of a golden age for La Liga. Amid the three high-profile transfers of Lua, Burmondo, and Álvaro, the news of Chu Yang’s move to the Segunda División club Valencia seemed so insignificant that, aside from causing a slight stir among local Valencia fans and those back home, it went virtually unnoticed. Even the Laco fans, who had just cheered wildly for Chu Yang in the previous match, merely cast a casual glance his way; at most, they felt a twinge of regret at losing a substitute with some potential, before continuing to revel in the euphoria of Burmondo’s signing. Chu Yang didn’t have an agent, so he had to handle everything himself. Fortunately, the main issue—the transfer fee—had already been settled, and the other minor details were mostly a matter of a word or two; everything was wrapped up in two days. The reason it took two days was that the contract Chu Yang signed with Valencia was rather unusual, making the Laco officials suspicious. They dragged their feet, speculating and asking endless questions, and only happily signed the deal once they were certain everything was in order. The transfer fee, of course, wasn’t as high as over three million euros; after all, there were only a handful of potential buyers, so Laco couldn’t really drive the price up even if they wanted to. Chu Yang also received his first-ever signing bonus—100,000 euros, which was much more than he had expected. That evening, the official websites of both Valencia and Deportivo La Coruña announced Chu Yang’s arrival and departure, respectively. While the details of Chu Yang’s contract with Valencia were not made public, the hefty transfer fee of one million euros still left other Segunda División teams gaping in astonishment at the Chinese “tycoon.” On the surface, Deportivo La Coruña seemed to have struck gold. They hadn’t spent a single penny when they originally signed Chu Yang, and their financial investment in him over the years had amounted to nothing more than his meager salary—effectively a windfall of one million euros. However, head coach Happer didn’t see it that way; he had always insisted that Chu Yang should be retained, arguing that even a loan deal would be better than a permanent transfer. However, La Liga is not the Premier League. In the Premier League, managers have the final say on transfers, whereas in La Liga, coaches are purely in charge of Athletic matters. Aside from a handful of particularly distinguished or highly respected figures who have the authority to shape the squad according to their wishes, most managers only have the right to make recommendations regarding transfers. A coach of Happer’s caliber simply doesn’t have the standing to dictate the club’s transfer decisions. Chu Yang’s performance in La Liga left no one at Deportivo La Coruña with the slightest bit of nostalgia for him, and Chu Yang didn’t make any grandiose declarations like, “One day, I’ll make you all look at me with new eyes,” after being let go by the team. He arrived in Valencia before the season started and took care of all the necessary paperwork. Since his Spanish was quite good, he didn’t need the club’s help; he rented an apartment nearby on his own and, when the time came, eagerly reported for duty. Valencia is Spain’s third-largest city and second-largest seaport, known as Europe’s “City of Sunshine.” Located in southeastern Spain, it borders the sea to the east and is backed by plains. With its pleasant climate and evergreen landscape year-round, it is hailed as “a pearl on the western shore of the Mediterranean.” Its current population is approximately 800,000. The city has a vibrant soccer culture and an exceptionally passionate fan base, but the team just can’t seem to get its act together. Although it has enjoyed a period of glory since its founding, it has spent most of its time languishing in the second division. When Chu Yang arrived at the training facility, practice hadn’t started yet, but most of the players were already there, and they all glanced at him curiously. As a minor figure like him, there was naturally no press conference; everything was kept very low-key. Aside from the club’s Athletic Director and a few members of the Coaching Staff who were present when he came to complete his paperwork, virtually no one paid him any special attention. “Chu, come here,” head coach Marco Greiser beckoned to Chu Yang. The top two teams in the Segunda División are promoted directly to La Liga, while third through sixth place must compete in the promotion playoffs. Valencia currently sits in fourth place in the league; holding onto that position until the end would at least secure a playoff spot, but everyone at the club wants to push all the way to the top two, which is why they bolstered their attack during the winter transfer window. Chu Yang, who had delivered a mediocre performance in La Liga, was naturally not Gressel’s first choice. However, since the club owner was determined to sign his fellow countryman, the head coach was powerless to object. He could only send scouts to evaluate Chu Yang on a “let’s give it a try” basis. He neither welcomed nor rejected Chu Yang’s arrival, adopting a nonchalant attitude of “if he works, great; if not, so be it.” When the head coach summoned him, Chu Yang quickly stepped forward and said, “Hello, Mr. Marco.” The coach was from the Netherlands and bore a surname that commanded respect from a rookie forward like Chu Yang. Unfortunately, during his playing days, this coach had been nothing more than a mediocre defender—a far cry from the other Marco Chu Yang remembered. “No need to be so formal—just call me ‘Boss,’ like the rest of them,” Greseldau said. “Say hello to everyone, then go with Heike for your physical exam, and come back for training afterward.” “No problem,” Chu Yang turned to face his new teammates. “Hi, everyone. My name is Chu Yang. I’m from China and play center forward. My strengths are good positioning and shooting. I hope you’ll all look out for me.” “Hey, buddy, I watched that game—don’t try to fool me,” a very handsome young man on the team chuckled. “Your shooting isn’t just ‘pretty good’—it’s amazing. I don’t think even Fang Dan had that kind of shooting ability at your age. At the very least, he didn’t know any Chinese martial arts.” Although Fang Dan had a name that sounded Chinese, he had absolutely no connection to that red country in the East; he was a through-and-through Frenchman—Real Madrid’s star striker, the kind of player who, when healthy, could leave the second-place scorer on the scoring leaderboard trailing by five or six goals. “Mo Ya,” the young man said, extending his hand to Chu Yang. “Cesc Moya.” Chu Yang shook his hand and said, “Hello, I know who you are, Captain.” Mo Ya was very friendly; he pulled Chu Yang into the group to introduce him to his teammates. But foreign names were just too damn confusing—it was either “S” or “K” or something like that. After going around the circle, Chu Yang only remembered that the starting goalkeeper’s last name was Fernando; he couldn’t recall a single other name. Assistant coach Heike Onnes walked over and said, “All right, follow me, Chu. Let me see if your physique is as impressive as your shooting skills.” Since Chu Yang had already been to the training facility once, Heike didn’t take him on a tour to get familiar with the surroundings but led him straight to the locker room. “We know your number in Deportivo La Coruña was 11, but the number 11 jersey here in Valencia is already taken. If you want to keep that number, you’ll have to talk to Adrian first,” Haike Dao said. “Can you tell me what other numbers are available?” “Among the more popular numbers, 1 through 8 are already taken, and 10 and 11 are also spoken for. I think you could try number 9—for a center forward, there’s probably no better fit. “CY9?” Chu Yangdao. “That sounds good.”