Echoes of Greatness: The Rise of a Global Football Sensation

Some say Dutch football is known for its infighting, but to Yang Yang, Chinese football has perfected the art of self-sabotage. 

From officials at the Football Association to members of the domestic media, dysfunction seemed to be ingrained at every level. The latest example came in the form of the highly anticipated China U-20 national team—a squad that had once been a source of genuine optimism. 

This team had earned recognition after winning the Toulon Cup and performing well in the AFC U-19 Championship. Players like Chen Tao had proven themselves, securing trials and even contracts with Eredivisie and Belgian clubs. The talent and potential were evident. 

However, while Yang Yang trained in Beijing with the senior national team ahead of the World Cup qualifiers, troubling news emerged from the China U-20 squad's training camp in Germany. One controversy after another spread like wildfire, creating chaos and threatening to derail their preparations for the upcoming FIFA World Youth Championship. 

The issues were all too familiar. 

Reports surfaced in the domestic media suggesting tension between the team's German head coach, Krautzun, and the Chinese coaching staff. Critics claimed Krautzun's theoretical knowledge was adequate but questioned his practical coaching abilities. Some even implied that his methods were outdated, a claim seized upon by members of the Chinese staff to undermine his authority. 

This internal discord spilled over into matches. In a series of warm-up games, Chinese coaches were spotted giving instructions on the sidelines, blatantly contradicting Krautzun's leadership. The German media criticized the lack of cohesion, describing the scene as chaotic and unprofessional. The situation quickly spiraled, drawing attention away from the players' preparations. 

Fueling the fire further, reports emerged that Krautzun was staying at a higher-end hotel, separate from the team. Whether the claims were true or exaggerated hardly mattered—public perception turned against him, and dissatisfaction simmered within the camp. 

The breaking point came when a senior Football Association official, during a visit to the camp, remarked carelessly that if Krautzun wasn't capable, he could be replaced by the Chinese coaching staff. The comment, once leaked, caused a public uproar, further diminishing Krautzun's authority and escalating the crisis. 

By the time the team arrived at their training base in Utrecht, the Netherlands, ahead of the World Youth Championship, the China U-20 squad was in disarray. Tensions between the foreign and domestic coaching staff had reached a boiling point, and morale within the squad was shaky. Combined with negative media coverage at home and abroad, the team faced both internal and external pressure. 

Yang Yang, who had always preferred to keep his distance from the Football Association, couldn't stay silent this time. He found himself on the same flight to Amsterdam as senior FA officials and used the opportunity to speak candidly. 

First and foremost, Yang Yang criticized the Football Association's handling of the media. Seated on the plane alongside FA officials, he spoke calmly but firmly, his words carrying the weight of someone who had seen both worlds—the chaos at home and the professionalism abroad. 

"Honestly, I think we're far too tolerant of the media," Yang Yang said, his voice steady. "Instead of being constructive, they've made it a habit to stir up controversy before every major tournament. It doesn't help us—it just adds fuel to the fire." 

The officials listened in silence, their expressions betraying discomfort. Yang Yang chose his words carefully, knowing he couldn't be too confrontational. He wasn't here to scold them—he was here to make them understand. 

"Take the Krautzun issue," he continued, leaning back in his seat. "If there were no rules in his contract about accommodations, then why criticize where he stays now? The man is German. His habits are different. We always expect foreign coaches to understand our culture, but shouldn't we also try to understand theirs?" 

He paused, letting the point settle before continuing. "Krautzun is here to coach the China U-20 team. That's why you hired him—because of his expertise. So why are we obsessing over his private life? As long as he's meeting the team's professional requirements and not breaking any rules, his personal choices shouldn't matter." 

The officials exchanged glances, but no one spoke. Yang Yang noticed but pressed on, his tone remaining calm. 

"The media is making things worse. Their role should be to inform and supervise responsibly, but instead, they twist the truth, sensationalize disagreements, and mislead the public. They create unnecessary conflicts, and when that happens, no one wins—not the coach, not the players, and certainly not the fans." 

He sighed, glancing out the window briefly before turning back. "Let's face it. Disagreements between coaches are normal—every team has them. Krautzun's ideas might not align perfectly with the Chinese staff. So what? Does that mean the Chinese staff are suddenly on par with European coaches? Of course not. A good team learns to resolve these conflicts internally, behind closed doors. Instead, every disagreement gets leaked and blown out of proportion." 

Yang Yang's voice grew softer, more reflective. "How can players trust their coaches when they're reading about these fights in the newspapers? How can Krautzun and his staff work together when every mistake or misunderstanding is exposed and amplified? In professional teams abroad, the dressing room is sacred. What happens there stays there. That's how you build trust. That's how you build a team." 

He looked directly at one of the officials, whose face showed a flicker of understanding. "If you've chosen Krautzun, then back him. Support him publicly and set boundaries for the media. If you don't, then you're just sabotaging the team before they even step onto the pitch." 

As Yang Yang finished, the silence on the plane grew heavier. The officials shifted uncomfortably, some staring at their laps. Deep down, they knew he was right. The media had been given too much freedom to twist the truth, and their own indecisiveness had made matters worse. 

Yang Yang leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. He wasn't angry—he was tired. Tired of watching Chinese football repeatedly harm itself at the worst possible moments. He knew he couldn't change everything on his own, but he also couldn't stay silent. 

If Chinese football wanted to move forward, someone had to speak up. 

... 

... 

The plane touched down at Amsterdam International Airport, and from there, it was just over a half-hour drive to Utrecht. Along the way, the Football Association had already made contact and quickly finalized an agreement to address the team's internal issues. 

When Yang Yang and the team arrived at the Mitland Hotel in Utrecht, the Football Association wasted no time. They immediately convened a meeting with all team leaders and Chinese coaching staff. The message delivered was firm and uncompromising. 

"Everyone—players, staff, coaches—must fully respect and obey Krautzun's authority," one official stated gravely. "There can be no dissent, no questioning of his decisions, and certainly no actions that undermine his position. This will not be tolerated under any circumstances, and anyone caught provoking his authority will face severe consequences." 

He paused to scan the room, ensuring his point was understood. "Furthermore, all discussions about Krautzun end here. No one is to speak to journalists privately or give interviews on this matter." 

The officials knew the chaos had gone too far. The focus had to shift back to football if the team was to perform well in the upcoming World Youth Championship. 

While the meeting took place, Yang Yang wasted no time of his own. After arriving at the hotel, he gathered Chen Tao, Feng Xiaoting, and Zhou Haibin to help him rally the rest of the team. Although Yang Yang wasn't the captain, his time in Europe had earned him respect, and his success gave him undeniable influence. Many of the newer players—those who hadn't participated in the Toulon Cup or Asian Youth Championship—weren't as familiar with him, but they still showed up to listen. 

Standing in front of his teammates, Yang Yang spoke with measured authority, his words cutting straight to the heart of the issue. 

"I'm going to be honest with you all," he began. "The atmosphere in this team right now is a disaster. Between the media's constant provocations and the conflicts within our staff, this team is on the verge of collapse. And if we go into the World Youth Championship like this, we might as well not bother showing up." 

The room fell silent as the players looked around at one another, absorbing Yang Yang's blunt assessment. 

"You don't have to trust me," he continued, his voice calm but firm, "but think for yourselves. If we play badly, if we crash out early, what do you think the media will say about us?" 

He paused, letting the question sink in. "They'll rip us apart—just like they always do. Have you forgotten last year before the Asian Youth Championship final? 'The dragon gives birth to dragons, the phoenix to phoenixes, but rats only dig holes.' Do you remember how they mocked us? Whether they call us dragons, phoenixes, or rats depends on one thing—our results." 

Heads began to nod around the room. The players remembered. The sting of last year's public criticism still lingered. 

"Play well, and they'll praise us to the heavens. But if we fail, they'll bury us in the dirt and write us off as failures. Do you want that?" Yang Yang's voice sharpened as he looked each teammate in the eye. "We have to put this nonsense aside and focus. We're not here to prove the media right or wrong. We're here to prove it to ourselves and to the fans who believe in us." 

His words struck a chord. The room filled with murmurs of agreement as the players began to rally around the shared purpose Yang Yang had given them. 

Later that evening, Krautzun sought out Yang Yang personally. The German coach had been eagerly anticipating Yang Yang's return, recognizing the young star as the key to the team's success. As soon as they met, Krautzun was direct and open. 

"First of all, Yang, thank you," he said sincerely. "I know the media have made life difficult for me because I refuse their interviews. They don't like that I value my privacy, but I came here to focus on football, not to play politics or make friends." 

Yang Yang nodded, understanding his point. "I can see that," he replied. "I respect your professionalism." 

Krautzun appreciated the support and pressed on. "I know some people are questioning my training methods. I admit, results haven't been ideal so far, but there's a reason. Many of our players were away with the senior national team, and I've had to adjust my plans to accommodate their condition. I'm not here to make excuses, though—I have a clear strategy for their physical preparation and for our matches. Trust me, Yang. This team will be ready." 

Yang Yang listened carefully before nodding firmly. "I believe you, Coach. I'll follow your arrangements, and I'll do everything I can to support you. You're the head coach, and as long as you're leading this team, I'm behind you." 

Krautzun smiled, clearly relieved. "Thank you, Yang. Having you on my side means a lot—for me and for the team." 

With Yang Yang's vocal support, Krautzun felt renewed confidence. For the first time in weeks, it felt as though the storm surrounding the team might finally begin to settle. Yang Yang's influence wasn't just about his talent on the pitch—it was about the belief and focus he brought to those around him. 

... 

... 

The next day, under the leadership of head coach Krautzun, the China U-20 national team made their way across the street to the modest training ground rented from a local amateur club in Utrecht. The players expected their usual quiet start to training, but what they encountered left them stunned. 

Nearly a thousand fans, mixed with more than a hundred media personnel, had gathered around the facility. The crowd packed the edges of the pitch, banners waving and cameras flashing, their excited murmurs growing louder the closer the team approached. 

Suddenly, a chant erupted. 

"Yang Yang! Yang Yang!!! Yang Yang!!!" 

The deafening roar of the fans echoed across the training ground, shaking even the most composed players. Heads turned, and eyes widened in disbelief as the scene unfolded. 

Even Krautzun, a coach with years of experience in European football, stopped mid-step to take it all in. For a team that had been struggling with internal tensions and skepticism, this was surreal. 

"This isn't Amsterdam," Krautzun muttered, half to himself. "We're in Utrecht." 

No one could have anticipated such a turnout. It wasn't just Chinese media or overseas students who had come this time; Dutch fans, domestic media outlets, and even European journalists were present. The sheer number of people and the energy of the scene were overwhelming. 

Chen Tao chuckled as he watched his stunned teammates. "Good boy, Yang Yang's really popular here, isn't he?" he remarked to a nearby player. 

"Yeah, I didn't believe it either," he added with a wry smile. "Last time I walked onto the pitch in Utrecht, a bunch of fans shouted Yang Yang's name at me!" 

"Why?" a teammate asked, blinking in confusion. 

"How would I know? Maybe they mistook me for him!" Chen Tao laughed, shaking his head. But deep down, he knew the truth. Yang Yang's name had become legendary in Dutch football. 

The conversation turned quickly as someone brought up Yang Yang's market value. "Do you know how the media evaluates player value nowadays?" Chen Tao continued. "Yang Yang is ranked first among young players in Europe—above Robinho, the star from Santos. Can you imagine that?" 

His words hung in the air. For the young Chinese players, the very idea was hard to grasp. 

"So if Yang Yang leaves Ajax," another teammate speculated, "his next step will be one of the big clubs we always hear about, right? If he moves, he'll be playing as their key player, and they'll have to pay a fortune for him." 

"How much?" someone asked, curiosity piqued. 

"At least thirty million euros," Chen Tao said matter-of-factly. 

"Thirty million?" The room fell silent as jaws dropped. 

Chen Tao smirked knowingly. "Yeah. Thirty million. And I mean euros, not renminbi." 

That figure sent ripples of shock through the team. For players who were still dreaming of modest contracts abroad, thirty million euros felt like an astronomical sum. After all, Chen Tao's own transfer to Anderlecht had been worth 800,000 euros, a number that already seemed incredible to them. 

Yet Yang Yang's accomplishments spoke for themselves—each achievement earned through sweat and relentless effort. "The winning goal in the UEFA Champions League," Chen Tao reminded them, admiration in his voice. "The European Golden Boy Award. The UEFA Cup title and Best Player award. Eredivisie champion and Best Player. He earned every bit of that reputation." 

The players fell quiet as their gaze shifted toward Yang Yang. He stood near the touchline, calmly answering questions from reporters while cameras captured every word and gesture. To the younger players, it was a humbling sight—a teammate, a peer, now the centerpiece of European football's next generation. 

Chen Tao let out a breath, his admiration obvious. "Look at him. That's hard work. That's dedication. If you want to go abroad, if you want to make it big, this is what it takes." 

Around him, the younger players—Feng Xiaoting, Zhou Haibin, and others—exchanged determined glances. There was no jealousy, only respect. They had all watched Yang Yang rise, and they knew what it meant for them: a chance. 

Yang Yang had already shared a piece of advice with them earlier. "During the World Youth Championship," he had said, "Dutch agent Guido Albers, the same man who helped Zheng Zhi and Chen Tao move abroad, will be in the stands. He's bringing scouts from Dutch clubs to watch the games. Perform well, and you'll have your chance." 

His words lit a fire in their hearts. For these players, the World Youth Championship wasn't just another tournament. It was a stage—a chance to show the world that Chinese football had talent worth investing in. 

The crowd's chants for Yang Yang grew louder, a reminder of the spotlight he carried. The Chinese U-20 players gathered together, their earlier uncertainty replaced by resolve. Watching Yang Yang field questions, they understood one thing: greatness wasn't given; it was earned. 

And this tournament, for all of them, was an opportunity they couldn't afford to waste. 

... 

... 

As the opening match of the World Youth Championship drew closer, Krautzun ramped up preparations with a laser-sharp focus on tactics. Now that key players, including Yang Yang, had rejoined the squad, every session became crucial. Krautzun seized the opportunity to implement his vision and drill the team in the core elements of his strategy. 

"Press! Step by step!" the German coach barked repeatedly from the sidelines. 

High-intensity pressing was Krautzun's central demand. His system relied on relentless, organized pressure, with the entire team moving as a cohesive unit to suffocate the opposition. Players were instructed to close down passing lanes, force mistakes, and deny opponents any time or space to think. It was a high-risk, high-reward approach that mirrored the tactics dominating top European football at the time. 

The style aligned perfectly with Yang Yang's experience at Ajax, where pressing and positional play were drilled into him daily. Chen Tao, who had trained with Yang Yang at Ajax, also adapted quickly, familiar with the system's demands. Feng Xiaoting and Zhou Haibin, having learned similar lessons while with the senior national team, caught on rapidly as well. 

However, what truly surprised Yang Yang was the emergence of a new center-forward: Gao Lin. 

Yang Yang had heard about him before. Gao Lin hadn't yet featured in the domestic league and was essentially an unknown quantity—raw and untested. Yet, Krautzun's decision to select him and entrust him with such an important role proved insightful. 

Gao Lin's physical presence was immediately noticeable. Slightly taller than Yang Yang, he possessed excellent upper-body strength and solid foundational skills. He could hold up the ball under pressure, shield it from defenders, and link up play effectively. What impressed Yang Yang the most, though, was his cleverness in movement. 

During one of the offensive drills, Krautzun set up a high press-based attacking exercise. The defenders were tasked with building out from the back while the attackers pressed aggressively to win the ball high up the pitch. The emphasis was on forcing mistakes and capitalizing on them quickly. 

Gao Lin shone in this setup. Twice, he timed his runs perfectly to beat the offside trap, darting into space behind the defense with intelligent diagonal movement. On both occasions, he found himself one-on-one with the goalkeeper. While the first effort struck the post, the second was a confident finish into the bottom corner, earning Krautzun's animated applause. 

"Perfect! That's how you do it!" Krautzun shouted, using Gao Lin's example to demonstrate effective attacking movement to the rest of the team. 

Gao Lin didn't stop there. Later in the drill, when the play transitioned to build-up through the midfield, he showed his awareness and vision. Dropping deeper to receive the ball, Gao Lin turned under pressure and sent a perfectly weighted pass into Yang Yang's path, splitting two defenders. Yang Yang finished the move with his trademark composure, and as he jogged back, he turned to give Gao Lin a thumbs-up. 

The session concluded, but Yang Yang's curiosity about his new teammate lingered. As the players cooled down, Yang Yang approached Gao Lin with a smile. 

"Good job out there," Yang Yang said, clapping him on the shoulder. 

Gao Lin blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Oh, uh, thank you," he stammered, clearly flattered but still reserved. "I'm just trying to follow the coach's instructions." 

"That's the right approach," Yang Yang replied encouragingly. "You really understood what Krautzun wanted. Keep it up—this style of play suits you." 

Gao Lin nodded, his face lighting up with a mixture of relief and pride. For someone who had yet to make his mark in professional football, praise from Yang Yang—a superstar revered both domestically and in Europe—felt surreal. 

Encouraged, Yang Yang moved on to another new teammate, Lu Lin. 

Unlike Gao Lin, Lu Lin's strengths were immediately apparent: his touch was exquisite, and his left foot could control the ball with finesse. Krautzun had placed him in a creative role on the left flank, where his close control and dribbling could unlock defenses. However, his smaller frame and lack of explosive pace meant he relied more on technical ability and football intelligence. 

Yang Yang found Lu Lin sitting quietly by the sideline. "Your footwork is great," Yang Yang said warmly, sitting down beside him. "You'll be a real problem for defenders if you keep playing like that." 

Lu Lin flushed, smiling shyly. "Thank you," he murmured, still a little overwhelmed by Yang Yang's presence. 

Yang Yang's praise wasn't empty. Watching Lu Lin glide past defenders and thread pinpoint passes had impressed him. Players with that level of control and vision were rare, especially in Chinese football, and Krautzun clearly saw something special in him. 

Over the course of training, Yang Yang noticed a pattern emerging. Krautzun's selections—Gao Lin, Lu Lin, and others—reflected a clear preference for players with football intelligence. In his tactical setup, physical attributes were secondary to movement, awareness, and decision-making. Gao Lin's ability to read the game and Lu Lin's technical flair perfectly complemented Krautzun's high-press system. 

Yang Yang respected the German coach's vision. After observing his teammates closely, Yang Yang was quietly optimistic. Players like Feng Xiaoting, Zhou Haibin, Chen Tao, Gao Lin, and Lu Lin had the raw potential to succeed at higher levels. In his mind, they had the ability to thrive in leagues like the Eredivisie, where football intelligence and technical skill were highly valued. 

More than anything, Yang Yang hoped that this group would be brave enough to take the next step. Breaking into European football wasn't easy, but it was possible—he was living proof of that. 

He watched as his teammates huddled for a final debrief, their faces more focused than before. The World Youth Championship was their stage, and Yang Yang knew how much it meant to all of them. 

... 

... 

Before the China U-20 national team announced its final squad for the World Youth Championship, several prominent European betting companies had given them dismal odds. Out of the 24 participating nations, China was ranked dead last—below teams like Panama and Syria, who themselves were considered long shots at best. 

The reasoning was both clear and cutting: Chinese players had a reputation for crumbling under pressure when it mattered most. It was an unflattering judgment but one rooted in the country's prior struggles on the global stage. 

However, when the final roster was revealed and Yang Yang's name appeared on the list, the odds shifted dramatically. The betting companies moved China up to 15th place, edging them into the middle ranks. The improvement was significant, but the skepticism remained. Analysts were quick to point out that as brilliant as Yang Yang was—having already become a sensation in European football—he was still just one player. Football, after all, is a team sport. A single star, no matter how exceptional, couldn't carry an entire team to glory. 

Among the 24 nations, Argentina was widely regarded as the tournament favorite. Their squad was a frightening blend of raw talent and polished skill, featuring midfielders like Lucas Biglia and Fernando Gago, and an attacking duo that dominated headlines: Lionel Messi and Sergio Agüero. Both had already made waves in European football, their names spoken with awe as future superstars who were already showing signs of brilliance. For most teams, stopping Argentina felt nearly impossible. 

Brazil followed closely behind. Yang Yang's Ajax teammate Felipe Luís was in their squad, joined by other standout names like Rafinha, Diego Alves, and Rafael Sóbis. As always, Brazil combined technical mastery with attacking flair, their natural confidence making them favorites for the title. 

Spain was another powerhouse, boasting a lineup that read like a list of future world-class players. Cesc Fàbregas orchestrated the midfield with maturity beyond his years, while David Silva dazzled with creativity and vision. Llorente provided presence and goals up front, while the likes of Raúl Albiol, Jose Enrique, and Juanfran offered defensive stability. Watching Spain was like glimpsing the future of European football, and they carried with them the weight of expectation. 

The Netherlands, the host nation, also attracted significant attention. Yang Yang's Ajax teammates, including Ron Vlaar, Hedwiges Maduro, Urby Emanuelson, and Ryan Babel, were all key figures. PSV Eindhoven's rising star Ibrahim Afellay added further depth, and Collins John, who had once been the youngest goalscorer in Dutch football, brought proven attacking pedigree. Playing on home soil with passionate Dutch fans behind them, the Netherlands were determined to showcase their next generation of talent. 

It was clear to everyone that the World Youth Championship was a world-class stage, bringing together the best young footballers from around the globe. The tournament was more than just a competition; it was a proving ground, where players could announce themselves to the world and clubs could scout the next wave of stars. 

Despite Yang Yang's growing reputation in European football, the Chinese team's overall strength remained a concern for the pundits. Winning the tournament seemed like an impossible dream. Yet, while the analysts doubted them, Yang Yang felt something different within the squad. There was desire—a collective hunger that he hadn't seen before. 

Many of his teammates had quietly confided in him, expressing their ambitions. They didn't just want to play in this tournament; they wanted to use it as a springboard to Europe. Players like Chen Tao, Feng Xiaoting, and Zhou Haibin had tasted what European football offered and were eager to take the next step. Others, like Gao Lin and Lu Lin, were determined to prove they belonged on the same pitch as the world's best. 

Yang Yang understood them. He knew how hard it was to step onto foreign soil and earn respect, but he also knew the rewards. Playing in Europe wasn't just about money or fame—it was about growing as a footballer and testing yourself against the best. This tournament was their chance, their moment to shine. 

As the team trained, Yang Yang observed his teammates closely. He noticed Krautzun's influence in their tactical drills. The German coach emphasized pressing high up the pitch, forcing turnovers, and capitalizing on opposition mistakes. He demanded precise positioning and relentless energy, which suited players like Gao Lin, whose physicality and intelligent movement made him a natural fit as a center-forward. Lu Lin, with his exquisite touch and creativity, thrived in tight spaces where he could unlock defenses with a quick flick or clever pass. 

Yang Yang could feel the pieces coming together. The squad might not have the individual quality of Argentina or Brazil, but under Krautzun's system, they had a structure, a plan, and a sense of purpose. They were disciplined, united, and driven. 

The analysts and betting companies might not believe in them, but Yang Yang did. He could see it in his teammates' eyes—the fire, the determination, the unspoken resolve to prove everyone wrong. 

This World Youth Championship wasn't just another tournament. For the China U-20 team, it was an opportunity to show the world what they were capable of. It was their chance to rise.