"This time Huang Kaiwen pulled off a move just like Pele in the 1970 World Cup against Uruguay, bypassing the opposition without touching the ball, only this time Huang Kaiwen scored, whereas Pele did not."
"Pele probably doesn’t mind that point, look how happy he is laughing; two eras of the number ten kings interacting from twenty meters apart, that’s what legacy is all about," "Hehe, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen such an impressive Huang Kaiwen."
"Right, since joining Real Madrid, although Huang Kaiwen scored plenty, he always seemed to be just finding positions and opportunities to shoot, using the most economical way to win the match. Today’s Huang Kaiwen seems serious again, starting to show off his dazzling footwork."
[In Huang Kaiwen’s fan club]
"Kevin truly is the best!"
"Ahhh, hubby is so handsome!"
"Pele thumbs up with both hands, that must mean he acknowledges Huang Kaiwen is better, right?"
"Don’t overdo it, too much hype can put people off. Huang Kaiwen’s career has only lasted two and a half years, there’s no rush to compare him with Pele until he retires."
"But Huang Kaiwen is indeed strong, having been noticed by Pele not long after debuting."
"Genius is like that, number one in active soccer, can win a major prize in writing, sell paintings for tens of millions, and worn jerseys can sell for billions."
"I really hope to see him play in the Chinese Super League one day."
"Damn, are you a hater? Moderator, do your job!"
"Did you touch the ball or not?"
As Huang Kaiwen walked back to the center circle, Guti curiously asked.
"No, it was on purpose."
Huang Kaiwen said with a smile.
"Damn, you really are a genius!"
Huang Kaiwen replied.
Guti has many weaknesses.
But his vision and imagination are outstanding, and when he’s in good form, his passes are world-class.
Top teams demand high stability from players and physicality is also crucial.
So Guti is at a disadvantage.
He’d be better suited in a strong mid-tier team, serving as the core, much like Riquelme did previously at Yellow Submarine, with the entire team playing around him.
Guti might have been more stable, with dedicated protection and able to play to his strengths and avoid weaknesses.
His career would have undoubtedly been more distinguished. But Guti is the kind of man who’d rather sit on the bench at Real Madrid than play as a starter in another team; others can only respect and wish him well.
You can’t ask Guti to transfer and play as a starter, nor can you ask Juan Bellon to move to other teams for big money. The field hosts such men who choose to stand by their beliefs, making soccer more than just a sport.
"...all of us, we have everything we need, blue skies, green oceans, in our Yellow Submarine, we all live in a Yellow Submarine, Yellow Submarine, Yellow Submarine."
Fans in the stadium singing The Beatles’ "Yellow Submarine" to cheer on the Yellow Submarine players.
The match begins with Fran passing back, and Yellow Submarine organizing in the midfield.
After receiving the ball, Fernandez with a right foot flick avoids Cassano’s challenge, and immediately taps it to the advancing Senna.
Senna and Josemi execute a quick one-two, taking the ball to midfield then passing diagonally to Fernandez advancing.
After Riquelme’s departure, what becomes evident is the increasing importance of Senna.
The last classical playmaker leaves Europe, marking the end of an era.
Martins Fernandez, this Chilean attacking midfielder, is much faster than Riquelme in dribbling and passing, more European in style. While he might not match Riquelme’s ability, his coordination with teammates is more seamless.
With the ball, Fernandez attracts De Jong and Diarra’s defense, quickly sending it out wide to the right.
Ruben Garcia receives the ball facing Miguel Torres.
Garcia is a very ordinary player.
As a Spanish player, Garcia has solid technical skills but lacks standout qualities.
He fakes out Torres with a right foot dribble, accelerating towards the center, only to be caught up by Torres.
The two not-so-speedy players rush towards the penalty area together.
Miguel Torres continuously uses his body to press against Ruben Garcia.
Garcia steps in the penalty area and finally falls to the ground, unable to hold up.
Torres raises his hands, shouting in fear, "I wasn’t forceful, he fell on his own, it’s not a penalty!"
He barely has the chance to play in the first team.
If he concedes a penalty, Capello won’t let him off.
"Damn it, you diving trash!"
Ruben Garcia looks up, already surrounded.
De Jong, playing left defensive midfielder, arrives quickly, joined by Pepe and Ramos running towards him.
Ruben Garcia’s scalp tingles.
He remembers what happened to his teammate Josemi just a moment ago.
Sitting on the turf, Garcia kicks backward and braces with his hands, retreating while shouting, "Don’t be rash, you’ve all got yellow cards, if you start a fight you’re definitely off! Keep calm, you guys!"
"You better watch out!"
Pepe said, flashing a smile with his white teeth.
Despite his smile, Garcia felt a chill.
"Everyone back off, anyone who lays a hand on him is getting a card right away," warned the referee Gomes, who arrived late.
Seeing the Real Madrid players held back, he pointed at Garcia, "Get up, it’s not a penalty."
Garcia barely started to speak.
Seeing Pepe’s smiling face, and the stern faces of Ramos and De Jong behind him, Garcia swallowed his words.
It felt as though this season’s Real Madrid was different from the last.
Now, if he dared to say another word, these Real Madrid players would dare to start a fight.