The smoke of the Bundesliga had just cleared, and the news of Hoffenheim's home victory over Mainz caused a few ripples in the football world, as usual. But this time, what caused the biggest splash was not the match result itself, but the 17-year-old boy named Oliver. Yes, he scored again, and it was two goals.
Adding to his "cold-blooded sword" in the Champions League qualifiers against Liverpool, his "crazy debut" in the first round of the German Cup where he single-handedly dominated, and his stunning performance of scoring twice against a giant like Bayern Munich.
…
This season had just begun, and Hoffenheim's No. 17 had already been gilded by the eyes of countless European scouts and the flashlights of German media. This wave of heat, across thousands of mountains and rivers, also burned back to China without any hindrance. Especially after more than ten days ago, on September 5, 2017, the National Football Team was defeated 2:1 by the home team Qatar at Khalifa International Stadium in Doha, the capital of Qatar.
Oliver's continuous shining light on the German field seemed particularly dazzling, igniting a complex and urgent hope. Oliver's name appeared with unprecedented frequency in major sports forums, Tieba, fan groups, and the live broadcast rooms of football streamers with millions or even tens of millions of followers.
Late at night, Wang Yunqi's live broadcast room was still broadcasting.
He brought up a reference image and continued, "Official information: Oliver, born in Birmingham, England, in 2000. His father is British, and his mother is a British Chinese. Currently, he has no record of playing for any national team, which is one of the prerequisites for naturalization."
He paused, then changed his tone, becoming more realistic:
"However, let's not forget a few key points. First, he is only 17 years old, with unlimited potential. Will the England National Team not see him? Only his mother's side is half-Chinese, so it's also natural for him to represent England's youth teams. Given his current performance in the Bundesliga and the Champions League, the Football Association will certainly not let him go later. The platform, guarantees, and future development opportunities they provide are simply incomparable to the current National Football Team."
A wave of "sighs" and "heart-wrenching" floated across the screen.
Wang Yunqi continued his analysis:
"Second, naturalization is not a small matter; it involves procedures, willingness, and cost. The most important thing is what Oliver himself thinks. He grew up in the European football system. Can he adapt to the National Football Team system, or rather, can the National Football Team system adapt to him? Do you think he would be willing to give up the opportunity to potentially represent England and join a national team that can't even qualify for the World Cup finals, has a complex public opinion environment, and bears immense pressure? This choice itself is extremely significant for any young player's career planning." His voice was plain, yet every word struck at reality.
…
In Paris, France, at Prince Park Stadium, the atmosphere in the office of Youth Academy Director Pierre was somewhat subdued. He had just hung up the phone with Sporting Director Henrique, and the few hairs on his forehead seemed to have thinned out even more from worry.
"Gentlemen, Henrique's meaning is very clear," Pierre shrugged to his young data analyst assistant, his tone weary with a hint of imperceptible helplessness, "That kid named Oliver… Hoffenheim's No. 17. After reviewing all reports and videos from the past month, Mr. Henrique believes he is worth 'recovering,' and it must be done as soon as possible."
The word "recovering" rolled off his tongue, carrying a uniquely Parisian, condescending flavor, as if they weren't buying a player but recovering a "lost item" that was originally theirs. His assistant pushed up his glasses and handed over a thick folder:
"Pierre, the data doesn't lie. Over the past month, we've 'tracked' all his Bundesliga appearances, as well as his substitute winning goal against Liverpool in the Champions League, his crazy debut in the German Cup, and, of course, his continuous high-level performances in the Bundesliga. Goals, assists, key passes, pressing success rate per 90 minutes… all positive data is soaring, and his consistency far exceeds that of his peers. Nagelsmann trusts him implicitly and has given him a lot of freedom, and he hasn't disappointed. Now, quite a few clubs are eyeing this newly unearthed gold."
Pierre sighed, rubbing his temples, "I know, I know… I've reported all of this to Henrique."
He recalled the video of the match against Bayern, where Oliver weaved and turned in front of world-class center-backs, calmly taking shots. The burst of inspiration in that moment made his heart tighten. Compared to before, this kid has truly been reborn. The teenager from the youth academy, with average technique, average physique, and limited potential, was long gone. In his place was a confident, exceptionally reasonable player in ball handling, and a seed star who became calmer in big matches.
"Henrique said we made a mistake back then; we misjudged him," Pierre said with a bitter smile.
"Now he wants to correct this mistake as quickly as possible through a buy-back, which might salvage some of the club's image regarding talent assessment errors."
Pierre emphasized the word "misjudgment" with a strong sense of self-mockery. This is how top executives at wealthy clubs are; they only correct, never "admit fault."
"But the problem is…" the assistant carefully asked, "What about the buy-back price? Hoffenheim isn't foolish. Oliver only signed this summer, and his on-field performance…"
He didn't finish, but the meaning was clear: buying him now would definitely mean getting ripped off, and not just a little.
Pierre waved his hand, saying, "That's not for us to consider. Henrique only said it's worth it. He didn't mention specific numbers; that's the finance department's headache. We're only responsible for providing assessment reports and recommendations."
"Alright… Pierre… But what's even more of a headache is," the assistant added, "we have no idea… if this kid himself is willing to come back?"
Pierre fell silent; this was the core issue. Who was it that ruthlessly crossed him off the youth academy roster, forcing him to seek meager trial opportunities in a foreign land, almost ruining his career?
It was Paris Saint-Germain, it was them. That wasn't a simple departure; he was truly eliminated, deemed unworthy of the Paris jersey. What did that experience mean for a 17-year-old boy who loved football? How bitter was the taste of being denied, of being completely abandoned? As the youth academy director, Pierre knew its weight. He was well aware that given how much Oliver was valued at Hoffenheim now, Nagelsmann cherished him, his teammates relied on him, and fans loved him.
Returning to Paris, even with a promise of "priority development," what kind of environment would that be? Amidst a galaxy of stars—Neymar, Mbappé, Cavani… what kind of competition and psychological gap would a 17-year-old, once dismissed and then brought back, have to face? Even if the buy-back was successful, could Paris give Oliver the same unreserved trust and patience as Hoffenheim?
The answer was definitely no.
Though he thought this, he had to carry out Henrique's orders. Soon, Pierre picked up the phone and dialed the number provided by the scout, belonging to Oliver's Father, Oliver's father and agent. The phone rang a few times before being answered. A steady but slightly distant middle-aged male voice came through: "Hello, may I help you?"
"Mr. Oliver? Hello, this is Paris Saint-Germain Football Club. I am Pierre Moreno, the head of the Youth Academy Department." Pierre spoke in English, trying to make his voice sound professional and friendly.
"Mr. Pierre, hello, what can I do for you?" Oliver's Father's voice was flat, without much warmth.
"It's like this…" Pierre cleared his throat, carefully choosing his words, but Henrique's underlying tone of "the buy-back is a favor to that kid" inevitably influenced his phrasing.
"Our club's senior management, especially the director, has recently been very concerned with your son Oliver's extraordinary progress and excellent performance at Hoffenheim."
He paused, trying to find an entry point that didn't seem too abrupt: "Frankly, everyone at the club is pleased with the immense potential and rapid growth Oliver has shown, after all, he was once a part of our youth academy."
There was silence on the other end of the line, only a faint static sound. Oliver's Father did not pick up on the "once a part of our youth academy" remark.
Pierre pressed on: "Based on these exciting performances, and considering the broader future he might have at Paris Saint-Germain, our club, after careful evaluation, has decided to show Oliver and you our utmost sincerity and firm intention. We hope to buy him back."
"Buy back?" Oliver's Father's voice lifted slightly, showing no emotion.
"Yes," Pierre didn't notice the subtle change in Oliver's Father's tone, or he chose to ignore it.
"This is an important decision, meaning the club views Oliver as a future star of extremely high value. We will invest resources and provide him with a development platform that best matches his talent, in a top-tier environment and under the guidance of renowned coaches. Returning to the bigger stage of Paris Saint-Germain will be immeasurably helpful for the accelerated ascent of his professional career." Pierre packaged the "sense of charity" conveyed by Henrique as "opportunity" and "importance," his tone still carrying a hint of the self-evident superiority that comes from a wealthy club.
Another silence, longer and more oppressive. Then, Oliver's Father's voice came through, as calm as if he were discussing what to eat for dinner: "Mr. Pierre, thank you, Paris Saint-Germain Club, for your… attention and regard for my son."
"It's what we should do!" Pierre relaxed slightly upon hearing "thank you." "So, what do you think about our buy-back intention and initial thoughts…?"
"I've heard your thoughts." Oliver's Father interrupted him directly, his voice still steady, but with a hint of suppressed anger.
"But Mr. Pierre, my son is already 17 years old. He is not a commodity. The word 'buy back' sounds very harsh to us as parents."
Pierre choked: "Uh… Mr. Oliver, that's not what we meant, we…"
"I understand the meaning." Oliver's Father interrupted again, speaking slowly but clearly, word by word, "Paris Saint-Germain is a world-class club, there's no doubt about that. However, regarding transfers and future plans, this isn't something I can decide on my own."
Pierre quickly said: "Of course!! Of course!! We can arrange a meeting to discuss in detail…"
"No need to arrange anything so quickly." Oliver's Father's tone was unruffled.
"First, I am Oliver's father, and only then his agent. I know very well what happened back then, and I know even better how difficult my son's last afternoon in Paris was. So, I hope you can understand that the key to this matter is not what your club thinks, nor my opinion as an agent, and not even the price."
He took a deep breath, and his steady voice finally carried a hint of subtle protectiveness and firmness: "The key is… what my son thinks. His future counts only if he agrees. I must ask him first and respect his thoughts and choices. He's in Germany now, with his own training and matches, so I can't make any promises on my end for now. Let's talk after I communicate with my son."
Without waiting for Pierre to find any more reasons from a wealthy club or offer any empty promises, Oliver's Father cleanly ended the call: "We can end the call now, Mr. Pierre. We'll be in touch once we have news. Goodbye."
"Beep… beep… beep…"
Listening to the cold dial tone, Pierre stood frozen at his desk, mouth agape, holding the receiver. This "sincere" buy-back journey had, from the very beginning, hit a cold, hard reef on the other side. This reef came from a father's heartache for his child and his genuine respect for his child's independent choices. The office was unusually quiet, with only the hum of the air conditioner.
Pierre slowly put down the phone, leaned back wearily in his chair, and gazed out at the outline of the huge stadium outside the window. He knew Henrique would certainly not be satisfied with this outcome, but he also realized, more helplessly, that the arrogant self-importance of the wealthy club seemed unable to even cause a ripple in the presence of Oliver's father. He somewhat regretted taking on this task; it would likely be very troublesome.
"Sigh…" Pierre let out a long sigh.
...
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