Chapter 209 – Unbelievable! That Went In?! This Is What the Best Goalkeeper in the World Looks Like!
Jamal?
When Yang Cheng heard that name, his heart skipped a beat.
It was rare—just like Jude for Bellingham. Not a typical British name.
The sound of it carried a hint of Arabic or African heritage.
Combined with the boy's skin tone and what Dan Ashworth had just mentioned—that this kid had originally been in the U7 group and was now promoted to U8 with Bellingham—everything clicked.
It matched Musiala too well.
Could it really be him?
Dear God—no, wait—has Britain's God started blessing this time traveler?
Yang Cheng turned toward the voice and saw Matt Crocker stepping in to stop the two kids from going at it.
He looked strict.
But Yang Cheng approached, smiling.
"Jude, who won?" he asked cheerfully.
Only then did the kids realize Yang Cheng was there.
Suddenly, the pitch erupted with excited chatter.
Yang Cheng greeted the kids with a warm smile and stepped into the little circle, looking at Bellingham and the boy named Jamal.
"Well? Who won?" he repeated.
Bellingham, encouraged by Yang Cheng's tone, glanced at Jamal and answered with slight defiance, "He doesn't speak English. I didn't want to bully him. Give me one more shot, and I'll show him who's really boss."
Yang Cheng chuckled.
Translation: no winner.
He laughed and turned to Jamal, repeating Bellingham's words in German, emphasizing the part where Jude said, "I didn't want to bully him."
"Do you agree with what he said?"
Jamal blinked in surprise. He didn't expect anyone here to speak German. He nodded and replied in German, "He's very good. But I won't lose!"
Then, proudly puffing out his chest, he added, "I'm going to be the strongest player here!"
"Whoa!" Yang Cheng laughed heartily and clapped. "Very good, kid! What's your name?"
In truth, he was already hoping.
"Jamal Musiala!"
Yang Cheng was overjoyed inside.
It's really him!
But… how did he end up here—in my academy?
"I'll remember you, Jamal," Yang Cheng said with a grin.
Then he translated Jamal's proud declaration to Bellingham.
Jude snorted, clearly unimpressed.
"Mr. Yang, he's new here. He doesn't know how strong our academy really is. Next time, I'll teach him a lesson for you!"
Yang Cheng was stunned.
What do you mean for me?
Like I need you to teach anyone?
But after a second, he laughed again.
Clearly, Jude saw himself as a proud member of Bayswater Chinese—and this newcomer had come in acting cocky. Jude didn't like that.
Which was actually… great.
After chatting for a while, Yang Cheng told them both to scram.
The two boys, who moments ago had been fiery rivals, were suddenly walking side by side, chatting away.
Their "conversation" was hilarious.
Jude said in English:
"Just so you know, there's a guy a bit older than us—Bukayo Saka. He's really good."
"And then there's Jadon Sancho. Everyone says he's unbeatable under 10."
"Our U12s won the national championship last year—Declan Rice, Eddie Nketiah, and Reece James. You run into them, you're finished!"
"And the best in our whole academy? That's Raheem Sterling. You haven't seen him play yet, but all the big clubs in Europe are watching him."
Musiala understood none of it.
But he replied anyway.
"We just moved to the UK a month ago."
"I have a little sister."
"My mom studies at the University of Southampton."
"My dad used to play pro football—in Nigeria…"
Only Yang Cheng, fluent in both English and German, understood what either of them were actually saying.
To everyone else, it looked like some kind of magical communication.
Two kids, no shared language, but chatting like best friends.
Yang Cheng nearly died laughing.
What even was this conversation?
Still, the thought that both Bellingham and Musiala were now in his academy gave Yang Cheng a surreal feeling.
And now that Jamal was in his program, there was no way Yang Cheng would ever let him go to Bayern.
In Yang Cheng's previous life, the whole saga had been rather interesting.
Musiala's parents had always preferred staying in the UK, and Jamal himself felt more at home representing England.
After all, he'd grown up in London from age 7, made lots of friends—including Bellingham.
But as his talent started gaining attention, Bayern and the German FA began their recruitment campaign.
In 2018, Musiala even played two matches for Germany's U16s—yet he later chose England.
The turning point came with Brexit.
Musiala's mother worried about her visa and job.
That's when Bayern and the DFB made their move, offering a clear, compelling pathway.
Back then, Chelsea were struggling and had started neglecting youth development.
Bayern, as Bundesliga kings, faced less pressure and had a clear reputation as a top club.
So when they showed Musiala and his family a persuasive plan for his future, the decision was easy.
He declined Chelsea's offer and joined Bayern instead.
And his mother? She returned to work in Germany.
In fact, even after joining Bayern in 2019, Musiala continued to play for England's U19 and U21 squads until late 2020.
But now?
No chance that happens again.
Not on Yang Cheng's watch.
…
As they left the training field, Matt Crocker briefed Yang Cheng on the academy's latest developments.
"For the past two years, we've been reforming our partner school curriculum—and we've made great progress. Especially in our key initiatives: Chinese martial arts and chess."
"Both programs have had an excellent reception. The schools are responding positively. We're thinking of rolling them out to more satellite training centers this season."
Yang Cheng nodded. "Submit a budget plan. I'll figure something out."
In earlier years, during Bayswater Chinese's rapid expansion, the budget had been more flexible.
But now, with the scouting and youth networks well established—and pressure from the new stadium project—Xia Qing had started tightening the financial belt.
Projects like Chinese martial arts and chess were ones that both Yang Cheng and Xia Qing supported—personally and professionally.
And it wasn't just a whim.
The sports science department had previously conducted a joint study with Loughborough University, which showed that learning chess from a young age provided many benefits to footballers.
Not only did it sharpen the mind, it also helped players develop the habit of thinking ahead.
In chess, you need to plan your next move in advance, anticipate your opponent's response, and predict several steps ahead.
That's exactly what's required of a footballer.
Being two or three steps ahead is crucial in the game.
Chess also fosters strategic thinking and the ability to see the big picture.
As for Chinese martial arts, aside from physical conditioning, it trained body coordination and reaction speed.
Particularly the leg techniques and footwork, which helped players become more agile and quick in their movements.
These two disciplines—one still, one dynamic—were incredibly practical.
Over the past two years, Bayswater Chinese had partnered with local schools to establish extracurricular clubs for chess and Chinese martial arts, aimed not only at academy players but also at regular students.
As enrichment programs, they were well received and progressed smoothly.
After two years of great results, the club now planned to expand them more broadly.
This, however, required a new round of youth development investment.
And it was just one of many such initiatives.
This was why Bayswater Chinese poured so much money into youth development every year.
Through experience, Yang Cheng had come to understand: the competition among future professional players wasn't just about 90 minutes on the pitch or a few drills in training.
It was a competition of overall qualities.
And more than that—such programs carried social benefit, helping promote Chinese culture like martial arts, while enhancing the club's public image. It was a win-win initiative.
When it came to youth training, Yang Cheng always emphasized combining team training with individual development.
It had been one of his core philosophies since the founding of the academy.
What did that mean?
In recent years, clubs had focused heavily on team cohesion, on building tactical awareness, possession, and movement.
But they often neglected individual technique.
The result?
A generation of players who looked mature at 17, 18, or 19.
Players who passed well, moved well, and fit into any tactical system…
But couldn't beat a man one-on-one.
Attackers couldn't dribble. Defenders couldn't mark in isolation.
It wasn't just a club issue—it was a widespread phenomenon.
The root cause? Youth development.
That's why Bayswater Chinese placed great emphasis on both team tactics and individual skill—especially one-on-ones.
What Bellingham and Musiala had just done on the pitch?
That was part of it.
Then there was creativity and freedom.
This had been another cornerstone of Yang Cheng's philosophy since day one.
You can't mass-produce top players.
In his previous life, around 2024, one of the most frequently discussed roles among coaches was the inverted full-back.
The model? Marcelo.
So academies started churning out a wave of technically sound full-backs who could pass, dribble, and build up play.
But in matches, when pressed hard, their passing fell apart.
They couldn't stretch the field wide, couldn't beat a man, couldn't shake off tight markers…
They looked like factory-line products: well-made, polished—but still not Marcelo.
Why?
Creativity.
Marcelo played with flair, with that spontaneous Brazilian style—improvisation, instinct.
No academy can teach that.
Even in Brazil, such players are rare.
As the creator of Bayswater Chinese, Yang Cheng knew he could mass-produce passers, but he couldn't mass-produce Marcelos.
The best he could do was to protect those players.
To ensure that the rare "Marcelo"s, "Neymar"s, and "Ronaldinho"s who entered the academy had room to grow, room to experiment, and room to be themselves.
At the very least, not have that spark beaten out of them by over-structured youth systems.
That alone was enough.
"These two kids are something special. Keep an eye on them," Yang Cheng said casually, shifting the conversation toward Bellingham and Musiala.
The academy was full of talent—but kids like Bellingham and Musiala were top tier.
If one or two such players emerged per age group, that was already exceptional.
Matt Crocker nodded. "Jude has always been one of our top priorities."
"This new kid, Musiala, is a bit of a special case."
Crocker briefly explained the family's situation.
The Musiala family was split between two cities.
The mother, Caroline, was studying at the University of Southampton.
The father had moved with Musiala and his younger sister to rent a flat near Brent.
"I heard his dad is British? A former pro?" Yang Cheng asked.
"Yes," Crocker said, immediately understanding where this was going. "When Jamal came for trials, he caught our attention right away. Our first captain, Steve Jenkins, personally came to me."
Yang Cheng remembered Steve—now a coach at the academy and doing well.
"We gave Daniel Richards, Jamal's father, two options: a job offer or the opportunity to train as a youth coach."
"He chose the latter. He's currently taking coaching courses and working part-time with us at the academy."
Yang Cheng was pleased.
Not every family got this kind of offer.
But Musiala's talent was real—at least on par with Bellingham.
So yes, he deserved it.
"Well done," Yang Cheng said with a smile. "Give that kid time—he'll shine."
With Daniel Richards now studying for his license and working as a youth coach?
He wasn't going anywhere.
Yang Cheng knew it: this one wouldn't slip away to Bayern.
As long as Bayswater Chinese didn't fall off and remained among the top echelon of European football, if Musiala still ended up at Bayern—Yang Cheng might as well give up.
Right now, he already had the English twin stars: Gareth Bale and Theo Walcott.
Coming up behind them were Raheem Sterling, Harry Kane, Declan Rice...
And further down the pipeline? Jude Bellingham and Jamal Musiala.
Yang Cheng truly felt like he could stand atop the Premier League and shout:
"Who's next?"
…
Melwood Training Ground, Liverpool.
In the manager's office, Mancini stood by the window, watching the training pitch below.
Liverpool's training setup was different from most other clubs.
The first team trained at Melwood, a facility with over half a century of history. It had been upgraded since 2000, but still only had three full-sized pitches.
The youth academy was located at Kirkby, about 10 kilometers north.
Since being acquired by the Saudi consortium, Liverpool had committed to upgrading both facilities—taking inspiration from the gold standard: Bayswater Chinese's Brent Training Center, widely regarded as the most advanced and luxurious in all of Europe.
Mancini had even toured it once himself—it was like something out of a dream.
But now, that dream facility had produced a nightmare opponent:
Bayswater Chinese—the hottest team in the Premier League, maybe even all of Europe.
Just thinking about it made Mancini's head hurt.
He had watched plenty of Premier League matches, done the research, but only after taking over Liverpool did he realize how brutal the league really was.
Liverpool's fixture list was a nightmare.
They nearly got taken out by Arsenal at Anfield in the opener—especially in the second half.
Then, in Round 2, they visited City's Etihad Stadium and were thrashed 0–3 by Ancelotti's side.
It left Mancini stunned.
That fat Italian guy never went this hard in Serie A.
Where'd all this attacking football come from?
By Round 3, Liverpool finally faced a "soft" opponent: newly promoted West Brom.
They won 5–0, which looked like a rout.
But in truth?
The match revealed plenty of problems.
Especially Torres and Suárez as a strike duo.
A 4-4-2 with them up top?
It didn't really work.
At least, not a traditional 4-4-2.
Over preseason, Mancini had started to notice some issues.
The two strikers had very peculiar traits.
Thinking about Torres immediately reminded Mancini of Benítez.
From day one at Liverpool, Mancini had kept Benítez's ghost hanging over his head—a constant reminder not to repeat his mistakes.
Benítez was the blueprint for self-destruction.
Or maybe, past success had made him forget what kind of team he was managing.
At Valencia and Liverpool, Benítez had always favored a 4-2-3-1.
The defense looked high, but in reality, it was pure counterattack.
That's why the double pivot was so vital to him.
No defense, no counters.
And the front line?
From Kuyt to Torres to Gerrard—it didn't matter who—they all just charged the goal during transitions.
Did they have players who could organize in the final third?
Not really.
That's why Xabi Alonso was so critical.
And why Aurelio was so valued.
They were the only 1.5 players in the squad who could receive the ball and actually start a meaningful attack.
And then Benítez messed it all up by pushing Alonso out.
Torres was never a back-to-goal striker.
He wasn't the guy to hold up play or win headers.
He was a pure forward.
Even Rio Ferdinand once said he hated defending against Torres—said he was even tougher than Drogba.
"He's fast, strong, aggressive, and his off-ball movement is unpredictable."
But lately, as injuries piled up and his physical sharpness declined, Torres had lost some of that explosiveness.
Three games in, he had only scored once.
Not great.
Suárez, on the other hand, was something else.
Fast, technical, great vision, elite finishing instincts...
In short, he had all the best qualities of a South American forward.
But the real surprise?
He had an unbelievable hunger in matches.
He didn't just accept contact—he loved it.
He thrived on duels with defenders.
That was extremely rare among South American strikers.
And somehow, he held his own physically too.
Right now, Suárez was the only Liverpool striker who could hold the ball under pressure.
Torres was best when given space to sprint into.
In tight areas under heavy marking, he lost possession too easily.
That hadn't been a problem before because he could physically recover his mistakes.
But now that his body was failing, those flaws were becoming obvious.
That's why, after a full summer of training camp, Mancini made a shocking tactical shift:
He asked Suárez, the guy who looked nothing like a center-forward, to take on defenders...
And put Torres, who looked every bit the classic No. 9, out wide to make runs.
That led to the 5–0 rout of West Brom.
But Liverpool still had a serious issue—the midfield.
Mancini's idea was to play a dual-striker system—Torres and Suárez stretching the field wide, with Gerrard operating in the No. 10 role behind them.
This let Gerrard press opposing holding midfielders while also joining attacks as a late runner.
Very similar to how Chelsea used Lampard.
But behind them?
He needed Mascherano's elite defensive coverage, and Lucas Leiva's energy and work rate.
Aquilani was the unlucky one.
He'd arrived at Liverpool injured, with a hefty transfer fee, and had been hyped as Alonso's replacement.
But with boardroom instability and Benítez on the way out, Aquilani never got a fair shot.
He never found his rhythm.
Still, Mancini kept him.
And in that 5–0 win over West Brom?
Aquilani delivered his best performance in a Liverpool shirt.
At that moment, Mancini already had his answer.
He turned to look at his three assistants.
There was his long-time Italian duo Fausto Salsano and Attilio Lombardo, who had followed him to Liverpool…
And the club-appointed coach: Steve Clarke, formerly assistant at Chelsea and deeply familiar with English football.
Clarke had worked under greats like Gullit, Bobby Robson, Mourinho, Grant, Scolari, and Zola—he was highly respected in the UK.
The four of them sat down to discuss one thing:
How to stop Bayswater Chinese.
When Mancini laid out his proposed attacking midfield lineup, nobody objected.
They had all proven themselves in the West Brom match.
But that had been a 4-4-2. Kuyt had played too.
Bayswater Chinese, however, were no West Brom.
"This match, I think we need Lucas Leiva, Aquilani, and Mascherano as a three-man shield, with Gerrard ahead of them," Clarke began, pointing at the tactical board.
"Behind them, we'd have Kolarov, Agger, Skrtel, and Glen Johnson. That might be enough to hold off Bayswater's attack."
Clarke knew Bayswater Chinese better than anyone in the room.
"But I think the biggest X-factor this season is this guy."
He circled the number 8 on the board—Toni Kroos.
"This German kid is special. His long passes are ridiculous."
"He often drops very deep, or drifts to the left, which activates Marcelo."
"If we press him and shift our defense that way, they'll immediately switch the ball diagonally to the right."
Mancini frowned. "We have to shut down Toni Kroos."
"The real headache," Clarke continued, "is Modrić—and even Matić. Don't forget, Matić used to be a number 10. He was converted into a holding midfielder, but he still has great passing range."
Fausto Salsano couldn't help himself. "This Yang Cheng guy is insane. He just loves reinventing players."
Clarke chuckled. "Matić was actually one of the best defensive midfielders in the Premier League last season."
That shut everyone up.
It was like when Ancelotti turned Pirlo into a regista.
"So our biggest problem is their front three has elite individual skills, speed, and power, and their midfield is full of players who can all create and pass under pressure," Clarke summarized.
"And don't forget Marcelo. Even the rest of the back line can build from the back."
At that point, the room went quiet.
How the hell are we supposed to stop this?
"But from what I know about Yang Cheng," Clarke added, "Marcelo, Di María, and Thiago Silva have all gone back for international duty. I doubt they'll start."
"Why?" Lombardo asked.
"Yang is… unique. He takes injuries very seriously. Most clubs just say they'll rest players, but they still play them when needed. He never does."
The staff all exchanged looks and chuckled.
"Well then, playing for him must be a blessing," Mancini said.
Clarke nodded. "When it comes to international duty—especially for those flying back from South America—they usually get rested."
"He's always done that?"
"From what I've seen, very few exceptions."
That got Mancini's attention. He was a former player—he appreciated that kind of care.
Back to the match at hand.
"Right now, our top priority is to defend well. We cannot let Bale and Walcott get space to run in behind."
Everyone nodded.
"At the same time, we have to guard against their short-passing combinations and diagonal switches."
At this point, Mancini really didn't have a better plan.
He sighed, then swore. "What the hell were Bayern thinking? Rummenigge, Hoeneß—what were they doing? How could they sell Toni Kroos to Bayswater Chinese?"
"And now Yang Cheng has this damn midfield—how do we defend against it?"
His assistants agreed.
This team was too complete.
Too many weapons.
Counterattack?
Park the bus at Wembley?
Mancini glanced at Steve Clarke.
Mate, if we go to London and play deep, will the Liverpool fans riot?
Clarke gave him a tired smile. "The last two seasons, only United and Arsenal dared go toe-to-toe with Bayswater Chinese at Wembley. It didn't go well."
Mancini clapped his hands together. "Then that's it—we play on the counter."
"We'll use Bayswater Chinese to test our defense."
"I refuse to believe they're impossible to stop!"
…
September 12, afternoon. Wembley Stadium, London.
Premier League, Matchweek 4: Bayswater Chinese vs. Liverpool.
As expected, none of the South American internationals started.
Matić, having played two full matches with Serbia, was also rested.
Javi Martínez got the nod in midfield.
Bayswater Chinese lined up in their usual 4-3-3:
Goalkeeper: Courtois
Defense: Ryan Bertrand, Kompany, Pepe, Piszczek
Midfield: Javi Martínez (DM), Kroos and Modrić (CMs)
Attack: Bale, Lewandowski, Walcott
From kickoff, Bayswater Chinese pressed aggressively.
Same system. Same intensity.
Relentlessly hammering at Liverpool's defense.
Mancini went with a 4-3-1-2, using a midfield triangle behind Gerrard, with Torres and Suárez up front.
For Yang Cheng, the biggest concern was his own defense.
Many players had just returned from international duty and were clearly not at peak condition.
Liverpool sat deep and limited space for Bale and Walcott to sprint into, which dulled the attack slightly.
But Mancini's back line still wasn't fully coordinated.
Under Bayswater Chinese's pressure—cutbacks, overlaps, diagonal balls—they began to crack.
Kroos pinged a long diagonal to Piszczek on the right, who linked with Walcott.
The Polish fullback reached the byline and whipped in a cross toward Lewandowski.
But under pressure from Agger and Škrtel, the striker couldn't reach it…
The three players at the near post and center all mistimed their runs.
But it didn't matter!
Gareth Bale charged in at the far post. Just eight meters from goal, he outmuscled Glen Johnson and Lucas Leiva and launched a close-range header.
It was a powerful effort with perfect placement—angled back toward the right side of the net.
The Bayswater Chinese fans in the stadium were already starting to celebrate.
Some couldn't even wait—cheers began erupting prematurely.
But in the blink of an eye, Buffon, as if touched by the divine, flung himself across the goal line and parried the ball away with a single hand.
Wembley fell silent.
Ninety thousand fans couldn't believe their eyes.
Is this really what the best goalkeeper in the world can do?
Bayswater Chinese weren't discouraged.
They pressed harder than before.
In the 35th minute, they created another golden chance.
Walcott, surging down the right flank, used his pace to burn past Kolarov and delivered a precise cross.
His technique was as reliable as ever. And his chemistry with Bale? Nearly telepathic.
The ball soared over the crowd in the middle, dropping toward the far post.
Bale slipped away from Johnson, charged in, and leapt high into the air.
His athleticism was breathtaking.
But in the next instant, an even bigger body appeared—Buffon came flying in with arms outstretched, punching the ball away before Bale could connect.
The two collided in mid-air and crashed to the ground.
The ball spilled out to the edge of the box.
Kroos, positioned on the left, stepped up. He took a touch forward, beating Aquilani to the ball, and ripped a long-range shot.
It was a thunderbolt—headed straight for Liverpool's goal.
But Buffon, not even fully on his feet yet, reacted on instinct—diving and palming the shot away with one hand.
Wembley exploded.
Ninety thousand fans couldn't believe what they were seeing.
Is this guy even human?!
Buffon had been hammered for his poor showing at the Etihad in Round 2—conceding three to City.
But here at Wembley? He was putting on a clinic.
Three consecutive miraculous saves had ignited Liverpool's morale.
Even Sky Sports' commentators couldn't contain themselves.
"Buffon is simply otherworldly!"
"Bayswater Chinese have been relentless in attack. Yang Cheng's side are unbeaten at home."
"Liverpool's back line has been rock-solid. That triple pivot is doing an excellent job blocking lanes."
"But still, Bayswater Chinese have created chances!"
"And in the critical moments, Buffon has saved all three! This is why he's called the world's No.1!"
"Absolutely brilliant!"
"Facing this version of Buffon, even Bayswater Chinese's attackers look powerless!"
…
On the touchline, Yang Cheng was speechless.
If his players had underperformed, he could have yelled at them.
But the reality was—they were playing well.
Buffon was just on another level.
"This guy is unreal," Yang Cheng muttered in awe.
You couldn't even be mad.
He was that good.
Even if he beat you, you wanted to applaud him.
"No worries. We've still got the second half," Brian Kidd offered.
Yang Cheng nodded.
Then his gaze shifted to Courtois at the other end.
He almost wanted to ask: So, Thibaut, watching Buffon today... how do you feel? Humbled? Inspired?
If one game could light a fire under Courtois, it'd be worth it.
So at halftime, Yang Cheng didn't criticize anyone. He encouraged them.
He wanted them to keep the momentum and intensity going into the second half.
In the 51st minute, Lewandowski unleashed a surprise rocket from outside the box.
It caught everyone off guard—except Buffon.
He saved it again.
Though this time, he spilled it.
Bale raced into the left channel and went for the rebound under pressure.
His shot went just wide.
In the 55th minute, Modrić slipped a ball through to Walcott on the right.
He beat Agger with a lovely shimmy but hesitated—delaying the shot.
Škrtel recovered just in time to block it.
With every save, Liverpool's confidence grew.
By the 59th minute, they were standing tall at the back—and starting to threaten on the counter.
Suárez and Torres, constantly rotating up front, looked like they might score at any moment.
In the 70th minute, Liverpool made two changes.
Raúl Meireles came on for Lucas Leiva, who had covered a ton of ground.
Lucas had just returned from international duty—he was spent.
Which only highlighted how much pressure Liverpool had absorbed.
The second sub: Carragher for Glen Johnson.
Clearly, Mancini was worried about Bale down the left.
Yang Cheng held off on changes, watching the deadlock unfold.
Finally, in the 80th minute, he made his move.
Hazard came on for Ryan Bertrand.
Immediately, Bayswater Chinese shifted to a 3-4-1-2 formation.
Javi Martínez dropped into the back line with Kompany and Pepe.
Bale moved into a left-midfield role.
Piszczek pushed up on the right.
Kroos and Modrić held the center.
Hazard slotted in just behind Lewandowski and Walcott as a free-roaming attacker.
Yang Cheng's plan was clear:
If Liverpool wanted to park the bus, he was going to crash through it.
With Bale, Walcott, and Piszczek on the wings, and now Hazard through the middle—the pressure was going to intensify.
Of course, it was a gamble.
A bold one.
But that's how Yang Cheng played.
That was why Yang Cheng waited until the 80th minute to make his substitution.
On the one hand, it was to further exhaust Liverpool's players, making it easier for Hazard to make an impact off the bench.
On the other, it was a timing play—strike hard before Liverpool could regroup and pose a real threat.
As Hazard stood by the sideline ready to come on, Yang Cheng wrapped an arm around the Belgian's shoulders.
"You're the key to us winning this match today!"
"Once you go on, I won't be making any more changes!"
Hazard looked stunned—he could feel the weight of the trust.
…
His first touch after coming on?
Just outside the penalty area, receiving a back-to-goal layoff from Lewandowski.
The Belgian drove forward between Aquilani and Mascherano, carving through them and bursting into the box before being brought down.
Wembley erupted.
The crowd roared for a penalty.
But referee Mark Halsey waved it off, ruling it a clean tackle.
Skrtel had made the interception, getting a toe on the ball just outside the box.
Still, Liverpool's bench—and the players on the pitch—were visibly shaken.
"Who are all these monsters he has?" Mancini muttered, pacing in the technical area.
"That looked like a clear penalty to me. Hazard's touch is unreal—his ball control, his dribbling—it's dangerous!"
"And this was in the middle, not even out wide," Clarke added.
That mattered.
Breaking through in central areas, where defenses are most compact, was a different level of difficulty altogether.
And it created far more danger.
Mancini nodded grimly and marched to the edge of his technical area, shouting to his midfielders to tighten up around Hazard.
Small, quick, great on the ball—he was trouble.
So Liverpool began pressing closer to Hazard.
Yang Cheng responded quickly too—Modrić moved higher up to combine with Hazard.
Yang also called Hazard over with a shout, reminding him: don't get fixated on the center.
Hazard's danger wasn't limited to one area.
He had been subbed on with a mission—to dribble.
Break the line himself if he could.
Shoot, assist, win free kicks—it didn't matter how.
Just make something happen.
If all else failed? Draw a foul near the box.
Even if Gianni Vio wasn't the tactical genius he once was, Bayswater Chinese's set pieces were still lethal.
Hazard began drifting wide.
Yang Cheng had given him complete attacking freedom in the final third.
In the 87th minute, Hazard popped up at the left corner of the box, receiving a pass from Bale.
The moment the ball touched his foot, the pressure came.
Carragher in front, Meireles to his side, and Gerrard closing from behind.
Three Liverpool defenders on one side.
Hazard could feel the weight—but also the opportunity.
He took a touch forward, adjusting his rhythm.
As Carragher stepped in, Hazard suddenly swept the ball laterally with his right foot—threading the gap between Carragher and Meireles.
But this was the most congested area of Liverpool's entire formation.
Aquilani and Skrtel closed down immediately.
Along with Carragher and Meireles, that made four Liverpool defenders surrounding Hazard.
Lewandowski had drifted offside due to Skrtel's aggressive step.
Seeing it, the Pole raised his hands and motioned for Hazard not to pass.
Any ball played to him would be ruled off.
Hazard realized this instantly.
Even trapped in a box of defenders, the Belgian showed no fear.
He reached the edge of the arc on the left side—right before Skrtel and Aquilani could collapse in tandem—and cut sharply inside.
His path shifted from a diagonal to a direct vertical.
He split Carragher and Skrtel, slicing into the left side of the penalty area.
Agger reacted immediately, charging over to cover.
But Hazard was faster.
After getting past Skrtel, he adjusted his stride, keeping one eye on Buffon's positioning and the other on Agger's angle.
He reached the edge of the six-yard box and pulled the trigger with his left foot before Agger could intervene.
The shot, point-blank and powerful, flew in a straight line and pierced the Liverpool goal.
Buffon had been ready. His positioning was perfect.
But the shot was too close, too fast, too pure.
Nothing he could do.
Wembley exploded.
Ninety thousand fans roared in unison, shaking the stadium.
Hazard spun around and sprinted to the sidelines, arms wide open in celebration.
The crowd chanted his name like a battle cry.
"What a magical goal!"
"From the Belgian youngster—Eden Hazard!"
"He carved through Liverpool's entire defense with sheer individual brilliance!"
"If you watch the replay, you'll see four or five defenders surrounding him—yet he still broke through and scored past Buffon!"
"Buffon has been world-class all game, but this shot was unstoppable!"
On the touchline, Yang Cheng exploded out of the technical area.
On the other side, Mancini looked devastated.
Unreal.
That went in?
What kind of players does Yang Cheng have under him?!
Messi?!
Thank you for the support, friends. If you want to read more chapters in advance, go to my Patreon.
Read 40 Chapters In Advance: patreon.com/Canserbero10