The Core

The opposition was Seafreight United's youth team. Du An had made a point of looking them up beforehand. Founded in 1894, it was an old-established club, a member of the Liverpool County and Lancashire FAs, and its senior side currently played in the Northern Premier League North West Division One—a semi-professional club with a modest local reputation in Merseyside. The rain was getting heavier. On the sideline, Aslett called his players in, speaking faster than usual. "Listen up. I've told you plenty of times about games like this. The turf is slick, so keep your touches simple, don't hold on to the ball." "Attacking is the same as what we drilled this week—Du An is the core, we play around him. When we bring the ball out from the back, find Du An as much as possible and let him deal with it. And out wide, stop thinking about cutting inside every time; if you see a teammate in position, whip a high ball straight into the box. If we don't win the first contact, go for the second ball. In this weather, simple is best." "Defensively you need to be even more careful. All of you get set and stay on your feet! Don't dive in lightly—it's easy to make a mistake on wet ground, so understand your positioning. Just block their passing lanes and put in more physical challenges. And keeper, shout louder—don't wait until the ball is right in front of you before you react..." "Bottom line: in weather like this, it isn't about who has the better technique. It's about who makes fewer mistakes!" The players nodded as one. Du An stood among them, burning inside. This was the first time a coach had said it out loud, plainly. He, Du An, was the midfield core! Every attack would start from him, and everyone was waiting on his passing and his organization to tear the defense open. The rain was cool on his face. But he could feel his blood boiling. He took a deep breath and went over the tactical points in his head one more time. Being the core also meant responsibility. So he wanted to win! Even if it was only a U16 match. Soon the whistle blew and the game began. From the opening kickoff, Seafreight United's youth team came out flying. They wanted to steal an early goal, but a few surges came to nothing. Du An was playing defensive midfielder. With the ground slick, he rarely lunged in. He just shuffled across, cutting off passing lanes, and with his teammates covering for each other they made it very uncomfortable for the opposition—through the middle, they either forced a pass that was intercepted or were pushed into going wide. Once the ball reached Du An's feet, he didn't even need to look up, because he knew his teammates' runs by heart. It was simply a long ball. Several times it slipped just past a defender and left the opposition full-back scrambling back in a hurry. Back and forth it went, and Du An kept the whole midfield in perfect order. However fierce the tackling on the pitch, whenever the ball came to Du An, he could always bring it under control cleanly. His teammates even began looking for Du An's position first thing. Under the rain shelter by the touchline. Heighway stood with his arms folded, Dalglish beside him. As long as Du An's match was at Kirkby, Dalglish never missed one. Heighway's gaze settled on Du An and he nodded slightly. "His awareness is more than enough for the U18s. The only thing he lacks is physical duels, and that's not much of a problem—his physique is already well ahead of others his age. He'll probably be good enough at U18 for a while yet." Dalglish made an acknowledging sound. "We'll move him up in the New Year, start him in rotation." Then he said to Heighway, "I've also had word that American money is getting involved in the takeover. They've approached Benitez privately—no telling what promises they've made." Heighway nodded slightly. He understood what Dalglish meant. The new owner would almost certainly be on Benitez's side. Once the takeover was completed, Kirkby's days of running independently would probably be over. He didn't answer. His eyes went back to Du An, and he stopped fretting over his own situation. He had made up his mind. If he was leaving anyway, then he would make this boy his last piece of work at Kirkby! While he still ran the place, he would push him up as far as he could. On the pitch. The deadlock was broken in the 21st minute. Du An had the ball at the back. He tilted his body slightly and slipped away from the challenge, then swung a long ball over the top with his left foot, dropping it behind the center-backs. The ball fell fast. Lewis came sprinting out from the side at full speed, got to it first, and knocked it into the box. The goalkeeper came off his line without hesitation. Lewis gave the ball a light touch, trying to feint past him. The keeper threw himself out at once, but the turf was far too slick—his momentum carried him and he crashed straight into Lewis's legs. "Ah!" Lewis screamed and went down in the box. The Liverpool players on the bench were all on their feet. "That's a foul!" "Red card!" Peeeep! The referee's whistle blew. He jogged over, pointed to the penalty spot, and then held a red card straight up at the keeper. Penalty and a red card—the full package. The other players on the pitch hurried over to check on Lewis. Once he had come round, it turned out he was fine—just a knock. Lewis pulled himself up by a teammate's hand, wiped the rain off his face, and grinned at Du An beside him. "That pass was perfect... just the ground's too slippery, otherwise I'd have chipped this one in." Du An took his hand and hauled him the rest of the way up, patting him on the back. "It's fine. A penalty is the same thing. Be careful, don't get hurt." "Yeah!" Amid Seafreight United's protests and the commotion of the goalkeeper change, Ben Parsonage walked to the penalty spot cradling the ball and bent to set it straight. The rain was still falling. It struck his face and he squinted, took a few steps back, and settled. Soon Seafreight United's substitute keeper came rushing on. Both sides were ready. Peeeep! The whistle blew. Run-up, strike—Ben feinted past the keeper. The substitute keeper dived the wrong way. 1-0! Liverpool U16 led in a game played through the rain. Ben celebrated wildly, his teammates crowding in and roaring, mud and water spraying high with every step, but everyone was too pumped up to care about details like that. They were all going crazy! Even the players on the bench ran to the touchline, cheering at the top of their lungs. In the rain, the red shirts piled together. Du An high-fived everyone, grinning. He didn't shout like his teammates, but inside he relaxed a little. Leading the team as the core for the first time—at least he hadn't dropped the ball. The rain was still falling. Once the celebration ended and they were back in the center circle, Du An wiped the rain off his face, and his eyes were more determined than ever as he looked toward the opposition's half. This was only the beginning!