Chapitre 117: Asian Cup Final
August 7, Evening - Beijing Workers' Stadium
The grand stage was set. After a brief closing ceremony, the Asian Cup final officially kicked off. The night had a palpable sense of anticipation, with over 60,000 fervent fans packed into the Beijing Workers' Stadium, their voices echoing through the arena. The event wasn't just for football enthusiasts—more than 30 government ministers attended, along with countless celebrities from the worlds of politics, business, and media, both domestic and international. With nearly a billion people tuning in for the live broadcast, including the first-ever live telecast across the Middle East, the significance of this final was undeniable.
The Chinese team took to the pitch in their familiar 4-4-2 formation. Between the posts stood Liu Yunfei, while the defensive line consisted of Sun Xiang, Zheng Zhi, Zhang Yaokun, and Wei Xin. In a last-minute adjustment, central defender Li Weifeng, sidelined with injury, was replaced by Li Ming. Up front, the partnership of Li Jinyu and Yang Yang led the attack.
Hao Dong, still recovering from a head injury sustained in the previous game against Iran, had received stitches at the hospital. Although medically cleared to play, head coach Arie Haan made the tactical decision to start Yang Yang instead, trusting in the young forward's current form.
With the shrill blast of Kuwaiti referee Saad Kamil Al-Fadhli's whistle, the highly anticipated Asian Cup final commenced.
Japan wasted no time. Within the first ten seconds, they launched an aggressive attack down the left flank. Wei Xin, however, remained composed, deflecting the ball off the Japanese winger and sending it out for a throw-in. Crisis averted—momentarily.
Japan was relentless, though. They pressed forward with intent. In the third minute, a clever diagonal ball from the midfield found forward Takayuki Suzuki, who had managed to break free from his marker. As Suzuki charged into the box, ready to strike, the linesman's flag shot up, indicating offside. Suzuki had fallen into the well-executed offside trap of the Chinese defense.
After weathering the initial Japanese storm, the Chinese team retaliated with a dangerous counter-attack. Shao Jiayi collected the ball in midfield and immediately looked up, spotting Yang Yang darting into space. But Shao's intent was too obvious. The through ball lacked the necessary pace, allowing the Japanese defense to intercept before Yang could make his move.
Jogging back into position, Yang Yang applauded Shao Jiayi for the effort but remained deep in thought. He began analyzing the game, piecing together the puzzle laid out before him.
The Japanese side appeared to line up in a traditional 4-4-2, but in reality, it morphed into a 4-5-1. Five midfielders congested the center of the park, clearly aiming to sever the link between China's midfield and their forward line. Every time a Chinese player gained possession in midfield, a Japanese defender was already there, closing down the space.
Without sufficient service, the forwards were rendered ineffective, merely spectators on the pitch.
Yang Yang quickly assessed the difference between Japan's style of play and that of Iran. Iran's defensive rigidity and physicality had made them a formidable opponent, but Japan was different. They relied on ball control and strategic pressing in the middle and final thirds of the pitch. Their backline wasn't as tightly packed, but their midfield press more than compensated.
This became evident during a passage of play on the left. The Chinese team earned a foul, and the Japanese pushed high, pressing as far as the 30-meter mark, restricting space for the Chinese players to maneuver.
Sun Xiang's throw-in found Zhao Junzhe, but with the Japanese players closing in, the ball was cycled back to goalkeeper Liu Yunfei. The relentless Japanese press forced Liu to play it short to Zheng Zhi, who, under pressure, returned the ball to the goalkeeper. Japan's press was systematic, inching ever closer to China's penalty area, compressing the field.
Yang Yang observed how the Japanese backline remained relatively high up the pitch. Only two central defenders stayed behind to mark him and Li Jinyu. They appeared confident that with the ball so far upfield, they had little to fear.
But that was a miscalculation.
Sensing an opportunity, Yang Yang retreated into the midfield, instinctively raising his hand to signal for the ball. His eyes scanned the field as Zheng Zhi, alert to Yang's movements, wasted no time. Without hesitation, Zheng Zhi delivered a well-placed, low-driven pass, cutting through the Japanese midfield with precision. The ball skimmed along the surface of the pitch, traveling 30 to 40 meters into the gap between Japan's midfield and defense, where Yang Yang had created space.
Japan's captain, Tsuneyasu Miyamoto, reacted immediately. He had no intention of letting Yang turn and make a dangerous run. Miyamoto, a veteran defender, knew that if Yang Yang controlled the ball cleanly, it would be nearly impossible to stop him. His plan was simple: close the gap quickly and stick tight, denying Yang the room to operate.
But Yang Yang, always thinking two steps ahead, was prepared. Instead of trapping the ball, he used the outside of his right foot to cushion it delicately, directing it into open space on his right. The ball rolled a few meters forward, momentarily catching Miyamoto off guard. In that fleeting hesitation, Yang Yang pounced. With an explosive burst of speed, he surged forward, using his body to shield the ball from the advancing Miyamoto.
Yang's timing was immaculate. He took a quick glance over his shoulder, analyzing the positioning of the Japanese defenders and anticipating their next move. With a subtle flick of his left foot, he lofted the ball with pinpoint precision, threading it delicately between the defenders and releasing it into the open space behind their backline.
The Chinese counterattack was in full throttle. Yang Yang's perfectly weighted pass found Li Jinyu, who had timed his run to perfection, staying just onside by mere inches. With a burst of acceleration, Li Jinyu escaped his marker, leaving the Japanese defense scrambling in disarray. The ball arrived at his feet with a soft bounce, allowing him to control it effortlessly. Now, with only the goalkeeper to beat, the stadium held its collective breath.
As Li Jinyu approached the penalty area, the Japanese keeper rushed off his line, desperately trying to narrow the angle. The tension was palpable. Li Jinyu, with the poise of a seasoned forward, took one final touch, assessing the situation. With ice in his veins, he calmly placed the ball low and to the right, just beyond the goalkeeper's outstretched hand, and into the back of the net.
"Goal!!!"
The eruption that followed inside Beijing Workers' Stadium was seismic. The stands, packed with more than 60,000 fervent supporters clad in red, shook as a wave of celebration swept across the crowd. The noise was deafening, a collective roar of triumph that reverberated through every corner of the stadium.
China had broken the deadlock just six minutes into the match. The precision of Yang Yang's assist and the composure of Li Jinyu's finish left the Japanese defenders standing in stunned disbelief. The scoreboard flickered to 1-0, but the psychological blow had already been struck.
Li Jinyu, overcome with emotion, dashed towards the corner flag, sliding to his knees as he mimicked firing a machine gun into the air—his signature celebration. The crowd responded with another explosion of noise, their cheers blending into a chaotic symphony of joy.
Yang Yang was the first to reach him, sprinting towards his teammate with a wide grin. The two embraced tightly, sharing a moment of elation before being engulfed by their teammates, who rushed to join the frenzied celebration. The Chinese players formed a jubilant huddle near the corner, united in their early triumph as the Japanese players stood motionless, struggling to process what had just unfolded.
...
The slow-motion replay captured the brilliance of Zheng Zhi's long pass. It was perfectly weighted, arcing gracefully over the midfield before finding its intended target. But what followed was even more remarkable. Yang Yang's first touch was nothing short of masterful. With a delicate yet precise control, he guided the ball to the right, using his body expertly to shield it from the advancing Miyamoto. Then, in one fluid motion, he pivoted and delivered a sublime left-footed pass, threading the ball through the narrowest of gaps.
The commentators couldn't help but marvel at the display of technique. "The Japanese seem to have forgotten that while Yang Yang is naturally a right-footer and his right foot is known for its precision and power, his left foot is just as reliable," one analyst observed. "He's truly ambidextrous, capable of delivering excellence with either foot."
This wasn't the first time Yang Yang had showcased such skill. "He's been demonstrating his versatility throughout this tournament," the commentator continued. "In both the Toulon Cup and this Asian Cup, Yang Yang has consistently proven he can control the ball and make critical plays with both feet."
With the scoreboard now reading 1-0 in favor of China, the momentum had clearly shifted. The Chinese team had seized the lead, and the Japanese squad looked momentarily stunned by the swift turn of events.
On the sidelines, Arie Haan couldn't hide his excitement. He had taken a bold step by positioning Yang Yang as a forward for this match, and the decision had already paid dividends. From the early moments of the game, it was clear that Yang Yang's presence at the front was causing havoc for the Japanese defense.
"The Japanese team finds itself in a tough spot right from the opening whistle," the commentator noted as the game resumed, with the Japanese scrambling to regain their footing.
...
...
After the wild celebrations, the Chinese team regrouped, fueled by the roaring cheers of the crowd. The atmosphere inside the stadium was electric as they made their way back to the pitch, ready to continue what they had started.
The game resumed.
The Japanese team, now trailing, showed signs of frustration. Their previously composed play had become erratic, and their challenges grew more reckless. Several rough fouls emerged as they attempted to disrupt the Chinese rhythm. In one such instance, Takayuki Suzuki lunged in with a late tackle, earning the first yellow card of the match. The tension was palpable as the Japanese players became visibly anxious, chasing an equalizer.
In the 16th minute, a promising opportunity presented itself. Yang Yang, positioned in the center of the pitch, saw a chance to test the Japanese defense from distance. After some clever interplay between Li Ming and Wei Xin on the right flank, the ball found its way to Yang Yang just outside the penalty area. With a quick glance at the goal, he took a shot, striking the ball cleanly.
However, his effort was blocked by a Japanese defender who threw himself in the way, denying the strike.
Yang Yang couldn't help but feel a tinge of frustration. The Japanese had clearly tightened their marking on him, recognizing his danger. With less space to operate, his influence was becoming restricted. He knew he'd need to adjust, but for now, the Japanese defense was holding firm.
As the match progressed, the Japanese team slowly regained their composure, settling into a more controlled rhythm. The early impatience faded, and they began to dictate possession with more purpose. Yang Yang noticed this shift and recognized the Japanese team's superior experience in managing their emotions compared to the younger Chinese side.
The Chinese, now leading 1-0, shifted to a more conservative strategy, adopting a defensive counter-attacking approach. They retreated into their half, absorbing the Japanese pressure, and waited patiently for openings to exploit on the break. Every player remained focused, fully aware that one lapse in concentration could undo their early lead.
Though Japan controlled the ball, their attacks struggled to break through China's disciplined defense. The Chinese players held their lines well, maintaining a compact shape that made it difficult for the Japanese to create clear chances. Instead, it was China who looked dangerous on the counter, with Yang Yang leading the charge up front.
In the 26th minute, one of these counter-attacks bore fruit. Yang Yang sprinted forward as the Chinese surged down the right flank. As he prepared to receive a long pass, a Japanese defender was forced to foul him, conceding a free kick in a dangerous position. The tension grew as Yang Yang's pace and movement continued to trouble the Japanese backline.
Not long after, another break saw Yang Yang skillfully trap a lofted ball on the right wing. With a quick feint, he cut past his marker and drove to the byline, pulling the ball back to Shao Jiayi, who was waiting just outside the penalty box. Shao Jiayi struck it first time, but the ball sailed agonizingly over the bar, much to the relief of the Japanese defense.
The most controversial moment came in the 34th minute. The Chinese launched a counterattack down the left through Yan Song, who whipped in a cross to the penalty area. Yang Yang, reading the trajectory perfectly, darted to the ball's landing spot, but just as he was about to pull the trigger, he was shoved from behind by a Japanese defender. It was a clear foul, yet the Kuwaiti referee waved play on, much to the disbelief of the Chinese players and fans alike.
Yang Yang, visibly frustrated, picked himself up from the ground and marched toward the referee, protesting the decision. "I was in the right spot!" he exclaimed, gesturing toward the area where the incident occurred. He was trying to explain that he had gotten into a good position ahead of the defender and was ready to receive the ball when he was pushed. But the referee stood firm, insisting his call was correct. Realizing further protest would be futile, Yang Yang walked away, shaking his head in disbelief, though his frustration was evident.
Moments later, the Chinese team came close again. After Shao Jiayi expertly shrugged off a defender in midfield, he unleashed a fierce volley from outside the box, only for Japanese goalkeeper Yoshikatsu Kawaguchi to pull off a brilliant save, tipping the ball over the crossbar. It was a reminder that, despite controlling much of the game, China needed to remain vigilant.
Despite Japan dominating possession, China controlled the flow of the match. Their defense held strong, nullifying any real threats, while their counterattacks continued to unsettle the Japanese defense. The sense of control and confidence radiated not just from the players but also from the fans and even those watching from home. It seemed only a matter of time before China would extend their lead.
During the halftime break, head coach Arie Haan was full of praise for his team. "Keep playing the way you've been," he urged them. "Stay composed, stay disciplined, and the chances will keep coming." His instructions were clear: continue with the same rhythm, and success would follow.
As the second half began, the game picked up where it left off. The Chinese team maintained their defensive organization, while the Japanese searched desperately for a way through. However, there was one tactical adjustment. Haan had instructed his players to push their defensive line higher, advancing closer to the 30-meter mark. This adjustment aimed to reduce the space Japan had to build their attacks while also facilitating quicker counters.
The 1-0 lead was still fragile, and both the players and the coaching staff knew it. One mistake could change everything, so the focus remained on adding to their tally and sending Japan home with nothing.
Then, in the 55th minute of the second half…
...
...
"The Japanese team has launched a quick counterattack!"
"Shunsuke Nakamura, showing his incredible individual skill, is driving down the left wing. He's got the ball under control and sends in a dangerous cross into the box!"
"A player in the middle gets up for the header—close range!"
"Liu Yunfei makes the save! What a reaction from the Chinese goalkeeper, pushing the ball over the crossbar. The Japanese team will get a corner, but that was a crucial stop."
"Nakamura steps up to take the corner. Here it comes, swinging into the box…"
"Koji Nakata rises... and it's in! Goal for Japan!"
"Wait, hold on! The Chinese players are protesting immediately. Liu Yunfei, along with several teammates, is signaling a handball. They're furious—claiming this was a clear handball by Nakata."
"Let's take a look at the replay... and there it is! From the slow-motion footage, it's obvious—Koji Nakata intentionally used his hand to knock the ball into the goal. That is a blatant handball! It couldn't be clearer."
"But the referee has decided otherwise! Despite the replays showing an indisputable handball, the goal stands. An incredible decision by the officials, and you can see the frustration on the faces of the Chinese players."
...
Yang Yang noticed his teammates signaling the handball, but none of them rushed to put real pressure on the referee.
This was completely unreasonable.
The Chinese team had just suffered an obvious misjudgment, yet instead of protesting directly to the referee, the players merely pointed out the handball before turning to prepare for the restart. Was this how they handled such an injustice? Were they going to just accept it so easily?
As someone who had played in European football for a year, Yang Yang knew all too well that situations like these required more than just a simple complaint. In European football, players understood that the ones who made the most noise, who applied the most pressure, often got the referee's attention. It was a simple truth—if you didn't protest or push back, the referee would rarely reconsider.
Of course, there was a fine line to walk—you couldn't get too aggressive—but this was far too civilized for Yang Yang's liking.
Without hesitation, Yang Yang sprinted towards the Kuwaiti referee, his hands kept deliberately behind his back as he shouted, "That was an obvious handball! You need to reconsider your decision! They clearly hit the ball into our goal with their hand. How can this stand as a goal?"
He pressed further, his voice rising as he gestured towards the penalty area, "And just a moment ago, they pulled me down in the box, right in front of you! Didn't you see that either?"
On the outside, Yang Yang appeared furious, like a lion roaring at his prey, but internally, he remained calm, calculating each word. His aggressive stance was all part of the plan—forceful, yet controlled, keeping his hands behind his back, just like players in the European leagues would do when protesting a decision.
The referee, looking flustered, backpedaled as he tried to defend his call. "I didn't see the handball," he insisted, standing firm despite the rising tension.
Yang Yang, quick with his response, retorted sharply, "Then you need glasses, sir! It was right in front of you. How could you possibly miss such an obvious handball?"
The confrontation caught the attention of the Japanese players, who were also fired up. Several of them, particularly the defenders who had been marking Yang Yang all match, rushed forward. One of them, visibly frustrated, shoved Yang Yang, knocking him to the ground. Yang Yang wasn't hurt, but he stayed down, his eyes scanning the reaction around him.
The Chinese players saw this, and suddenly the tension on the field reached a boiling point. First the handball, now this? The injustice of it all fueled their anger. How could they be denied the right to protest? And now they were being pushed around on their own turf?
This was China. They weren't going to stand for it.
In an instant, the Chinese players charged in, and the atmosphere turned hostile. Players from both teams collided, their tempers flaring, the air thick with tension. The situation was on the verge of erupting into a full-blown altercation.
The referee, sensing the volatility of the moment, quickly blew his whistle, halting the game in an attempt to calm things down. He rushed to separate the players, as coaches and officials on the sidelines yelled instructions.
On the Chinese bench, head coach Arie Haan was just as furious. He immediately stormed over to the fourth official, shouting his frustrations. "This is ridiculous!" he roared. "That was a blatant handball, and Yang Yang was dragged down in the box, right in front of everyone! How do you miss these calls?"
The tension in the stands mirrored the intensity on the pitch. More than 60,000 Chinese fans, packed into the stadium, voiced their anger, their chants and boos ringing out across the field. The energy of the crowd was palpable—this was their home, and they weren't going to let an injustice like this go unanswered.
"This is home advantage!" the commentators remarked, noting the overwhelming support of the crowd. "The roar of more than 60,000 fans is something even the Japanese players are feeling right now. The referee, too, must be questioning his decision."
"The entire stadium is protesting," one commentator said. "It's hard to argue that the Chinese team hasn't been treated unfairly. The players were almost too polite in their initial reaction, simply accepting the referee's decision and heading back to restart the game. But Yang Yang acted decisively, and rightly so, to put pressure on the officials."
"The player who pushed Yang Yang down was the Japanese center-back, Captain Tsuneyasu Miyamoto. But regardless of that incident, the handball was undeniable. From any angle, it's clear—this should never have been a goal."
"Let's not forget that just moments ago, Yang Yang was brought down in the penalty area, and no penalty was awarded either," the co-commentator added. "It's fine to show sportsmanship, but on the pitch, you need to stand your ground. When the referee needs to be pressured, you apply pressure. Otherwise, the entire dynamic of the game can shift."
"Yang Yang has learned well from his time in Europe. He's playing smart and making sure the referee knows the gravity of his decisions. Now, we'll see if the referee reconsiders, but it's clear that things are heating up."
...
The Kuwaiti referee immediately sprinted to the sidelines, engaging in a brief discussion with the fourth official and the assistant referee. After what felt like an eternity for the crowd, the verdict came in.
Goal disallowed!
This time, it was the Japanese team's turn to erupt in protest. The players surrounded the referee, gesturing and pleading, but the head referee stood his ground, unmoved by the complaints.
Once the chaos settled, the referee turned his attention to Yang Yang, who was still sitting on the ground. To the surprise of the Chinese supporters, he brandished a yellow card in Yang Yang's direction.
Yang Yang looked up from the turf, spreading his hands wide in an exaggerated shrug, as if to say, "Sure, I'll take the yellow card, but what about the guy who pushed me?"
The Chinese players, realizing what had just happened, began to protest once more. Their argument was simple: why had Yang Yang been cautioned while the player who had shoved him went unpunished? Their protests, however, lacked the earlier fervor, as the decision to disallow the goal had already shifted the momentum in their favor.
The referee raised his hands to calm the Chinese players and gestured that the situation wasn't yet resolved. He then turned to the Japanese side and called out their captain, Tsuneyasu Miyamoto, the very player who had pushed Yang Yang moments earlier. As Miyamoto approached, the referee raised the yellow card once again, this time booking the Japanese defender.
It was a split decision, the kind referees often make to balance the scales—one yellow for Yang Yang and one for Miyamoto. But the crucial decision had already been made: the Japanese handball goal was ruled invalid, and a goal kick was awarded to China.
Yang Yang, still wearing a wry smile, got to his feet, dusted himself off, and glanced toward the Japanese players, who were now visibly frustrated. His expression seemed to say: "This is China's home ground. Did you really think we'd let you get away with that?"
Football, after all, is a battle—a war without smoke. When two teams meet, every ounce of power is used to defeat the other. The Japanese players knew it was a handball, but they would never admit it. Yang Yang understood this all too well. He knew that being too polite or too passive wasn't an advantage on the pitch, even at home.
Tonight, he had taught his teammates an important lesson.
That yellow card didn't just restore justice; it also struck a blow to the morale of the Japanese team. On top of that, Miyamoto, Japan's central defender, was now carrying a yellow card. For an offensive player like Yang Yang, a yellow card was a minor inconvenience, but for Miyamoto, it was a burden that could change the way he played the rest of the match.
"Yang Yang handled this brilliantly," the commentator remarked. "Sometimes, our players are too restrained, too willing to accept unfavorable decisions. But Yang Yang didn't back down. He made sure the referee knew what happened, and now the momentum has shifted back in our favor."
"That was a clever move," another commentator added. "He fought for the call and, with the backing of the crowd, forced the referee's hand. I think we can expect a more balanced officiating for the rest of the game."
...
...
The disallowed goal had clearly rattled the Japanese team, and they were visibly fired up. Right after the restart, the Chinese team sent a long goal kick up the field, but it was quickly intercepted by the Japanese players, who immediately launched a fast-paced counterattack. The Chinese defenders swiftly retreated, reorganizing in their own half, bracing for the wave of pressure that was about to come.
However, the momentum had shifted dramatically since the handball incident. While the Japanese team had grown more desperate and erratic, the Chinese players appeared more united than ever. The misjudged handball had galvanized them, creating a sense of determination that was palpable across the pitch. They stuck to their tactical plan with unwavering discipline, forcing the Japanese attacks to repeatedly falter.
Earlier, the referee had seemed slightly biased in favor of Japan, possibly influenced by their superior experience and the subtle fouls they committed. But after the controversy surrounding the handball, the Kuwaiti official adjusted his approach, enforcing the rules more evenly.
In the 63rd minute, the Chinese team mounted a devastating counterattack. Yang Yang, positioned deep near the edge of the penalty area, saw an opportunity and seized it. With a deft flick, he pushed the ball forward and sprinted down the pitch, covering an impressive 80 meters at breakneck speed. The crowd roared as Yang Yang flew down the right wing, pursued closely by Japan's left-back. Reaching the byline, Yang Yang managed to squeeze into the penalty area and, under intense pressure, cut the ball back across the box with a sharp, reverse pass.
Li Ming was perfectly positioned to meet the ball at the right edge of the penalty area. Without hesitation, he struck a first-time volley with his right foot. The ball whizzed past the Japanese goalkeeper and nestled into the back of the net.
2-0!
It was a goal that all but sealed the victory, an undisputed strike that sent the Chinese fans into rapturous celebration. The atmosphere in the stadium was electric, and the Japanese team, already rattled, grew even more unsettled. Their head coach, Zico, was beside himself on the sidelines, shouting in frustration, directing his anger at the referee for every call that went against them.
As the match entered the final quarter, the Japanese attacks became increasingly frantic. But the Chinese players, now brimming with confidence, held firm, absorbing the pressure and waiting for the right moment to counter.
In the 77th minute, another opportunity arose. Yan Song broke down the left flank, but his cross into the box was intercepted. The ball ricocheted out to the front of the penalty area, where Yang Yang was waiting. Miyamoto, the Japanese captain, hesitated for a split second—unsure whether to commit a foul or let Yang Yang shoot. It was a momentary lapse that Yang Yang exploited.
With his right foot, Yang Yang unleashed a stunning volley that left the Japanese defense and their goalkeeper helpless. The ball soared past them and slammed into the net.
3-0!
The stadium erupted in pandemonium as Yang Yang sprinted towards the stands, his arms outstretched in triumph. The entire crowd was on their feet, chanting his name. Yang Yang, overcome with emotion, ran to the side of the pitch and dropped to his knees in celebration, right under the section where his parents sat. The live broadcast cameras zoomed in, capturing the heartfelt moment as his parents, alongside Su Ye, were seen cheering proudly, their faces beaming with joy.
Yang Yang's goal had effectively put the game to bed. The scoreboard showed 3-0, and with only 10 minutes remaining, the Japanese team had no way back.
In the 80th minute, Arie Haan made a substitution, replacing Yang Yang with Hao Dong. As Yang Yang made his way off the pitch, the entire stadium rose in unison, offering a standing ovation. Thunderous applause filled the air, a fitting tribute to the player who had been the mastermind behind the victory. With one goal and two assists, Yang Yang had been instrumental, not only in dictating the flow of the game but also in influencing its outcome.
More than just his contributions on the ball, Yang Yang had played a pivotal role in turning the tide of the match when the referee's earlier decision had gone against them. His decisive actions after the disallowed handball had shifted the psychological balance, demoralizing the Japanese team and giving the Chinese players the boost they needed. It was this mental edge, as much as their physical play, that had led to the unraveling of Japan's game plan.
In contrast, the Chinese team had scored three legitimate goals, each one the product of brilliant, coordinated teamwork. As the final minutes ticked away, the fans in the stands couldn't contain their joy. Some were celebrating wildly, while others were overwhelmed with emotion, many wiping away tears as the realization of what was happening began to sink in.
The Chinese team was on the verge of securing a long-awaited championship.
For countless footballers and fans, this was the fulfillment of a dream—a moment they had been yearning for, and tonight, in front of more than 60,000 roaring supporters, that dream was about to come true.
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