บท 114: Asian Cup Semi-final Part 1
On the evening of August 3, at a packed Beijing Workers' Stadium, the Asian Cup semifinal between China and Iran kicked off. The 60,000-strong crowd buzzed with anticipation, filling every corner of the stadium. With the Chinese national team's stellar performances in previous rounds, the fans had grown increasingly fanatical, rallying behind their team with fervor.
As the national anthem echoed across the stadium, the sea of Chinese fans stood shoulder to shoulder with the players, their voices swelling in unison. The atmosphere was electric, the raw emotion seeping through the crowd and reaching even those watching from home. For Yang Yang, standing on the pitch amidst the anthem's resounding notes, the moment felt deeply significant. He recalled Wei Zhen's words about the unique pride of singing the national anthem before a match—how it binds the nation in one shared dream.
The Chinese team once again lined up in a familiar 4-4-2 formation. Liu Yunfei stood as the last line of defense in goal, with Sun Xiang, Zheng Zhi, Li Weifeng, and Zhang Yaokun forming the defensive line. Zhang Yaokun replaced Wei Xin for this crucial match. The midfield featured Yan Song, Shao Jiayi, Zhao Junze, and Yang Yang, while Li Jinyu and Hao Dong spearheaded the attack.
By the time of the semifinals, the team's spirit was unshakable. Head coach Arie Haan had embraced the growing momentum, boldly declaring their intent to break into the final and win the tournament. The locker room before the match was filled with palpable excitement as Haan delivered his rallying cry.
"I believe that with our current strength and form, no team in Asia can stop us from moving forward!" His words energized the players, and when they stepped onto the field, they attacked Iran with purpose.
Just two minutes in, Hao Dong spearheaded an offensive on the left. Sun Xiang's cross into the box was cleared by the Iranian defense, but China quickly regained possession. Shao Jiayi, always a threat from distance, fired a long-range shot that dipped viciously but narrowly flew over the bar. The Chinese team sought to exploit a weakness observed in Iran's previous matches, particularly against South Korea, where they struggled with shots from the edge of the penalty area.
Iran, however, was not a passive opponent. Karimi, Iran's playmaker, led a quick counterattack after escaping a midfield challenge. He threaded a ball into the Chinese penalty area, but Liu Yunfei charged out to gather the ball, defusing the threat.
From the outset, it was clear that both teams were evenly matched, attacking and defending with intensity. The Iranian game plan was evident: focus their defensive efforts on Yang Yang, stifling China's right flank while unleashing their potent attack down the right side. Iran had demolished South Korea with four goals in their previous match, all crafted from their right flank.
The targeted attention on Yang Yang was unrelenting. The Iranian defenders, bigger and stronger, had a clear physical advantage over the 17-year-old. Despite his speed and agility, Yang Yang found himself tightly marked, every movement tracked and every touch contested. It wasn't until the twelfth minute that Yang Yang finally found space to whip in a cross, but the Iranian defense thwarted the effort, clearing the danger.
Frustration began to mount. Yang Yang could feel the pressure building with every passing minute. The heavy marking was suffocating, and though he knew the attention from the defenders was a sign of respect, it was hard not to feel powerless. He had barely had any chances to influence the game.
"You can't go on like this," Yang Yang muttered to himself, knowing he needed to adapt. He remembered the advice from his former coach Van Basten: "A forward in constant motion can never be marked." If the Iranian defense wanted to fixate on him, he would lead them on a chase, pulling them out of position and creating space for his teammates.
His mind drifted back to the Toulon Cup, where he had faced similar tactics against Colombia. In that match, Yang Yang had adjusted his role, focusing on movement off the ball, dragging defenders across the pitch, and opening lanes for his teammates. The strategy hadn't earned him personal glory, but it had unbalanced the defense and freed others to make an impact.
The same approach would have to work now. If he couldn't break through directly, he would make sure his teammates did.
...
...
After reconsidering his approach, Yang Yang swiftly adapted his playing style to suit the dynamics of the match.
When the Chinese team surged forward in attack, he became more proactive, constantly moving to pull the opposition's defense out of position. His intelligent runs stretched Iran's backline, creating valuable space for his teammates. Yang Yang was especially sharp in linking up with his fellow forward, Shao Jiayi, as their growing understanding on the pitch became more apparent with each passing moment.
Yang Yang didn't just limit his efforts to the attacking phase; once the Chinese team lost possession, he was the first to press, hounding the opposition and trying to win the ball back. His energy was relentless. Not only did he press, but he also tracked back swiftly to assist in defense, offering extra support to his fullbacks and helping to tighten up the defense.
This relentless style of play left Iran's defenders frustrated. They found themselves chasing shadows, unable to keep up with Yang Yang's constant movement and quick transitions. As much as they tried, they couldn't get him to stop running—just as he couldn't stop them from pressing high up the pitch.
Then, in the 23rd minute, the Chinese team finally created a golden opportunity.
After a breakdown in Iran's attack, Li Jinyu quickly dropped deep to retrieve the ball. In a sharp counter-attack, he immediately spotted Yang Yang pushing down the left flank. The pair combined effortlessly, with Yang Yang creating havoc along the wing, drawing defenders towards him. Li Jinyu quickly switched play to the right, where Hao Dong made a late run into the box. With pinpoint precision, Hao Dong latched onto the ball and fired a shot that sailed past the goalkeeper into the bottom corner.
1-0!
The entire stadium erupted in cheers, the sea of red Chinese fans waving their flags wildly. Although Yang Yang didn't get his name on the scoresheet, his movement and play were vital in creating the space that led to the goal, and he celebrated with genuine joy.
As long as the team could win, it didn't matter who scored. Victory was a shared success.
However, what Yang Yang didn't anticipate was the sudden shift in the team's play after going ahead. It was a long-standing issue with the Chinese team: once they took the lead, they often seemed unsure of how to maintain it.
The mood on the pitch became fragmented. Some players pushed forward aggressively, believing they could press for a second goal to kill off the game. Others, however, opted for a more cautious approach, trying to control the tempo and hold the lead. Still, a few players, fearing a quick Iranian response, wanted to sit back, defend, and hit on the counterattack. The lack of cohesion was palpable, and Yang Yang, playing in the thick of it, could sense the uncertainty among his teammates.
Meanwhile, Iran, now trailing, played with more freedom and aggression. Unshackled from the fear of conceding, they began to push forward with intensity, forcing China onto the back foot. The Chinese defense held firm through the first two waves of Iranian attacks, but the cracks in their defensive organization were beginning to show.
Just two minutes before the half-time whistle, Iran struck back. They launched a swift attack down the right flank, where the tireless Mehdi Mahdavikia surged forward and delivered a perfect cross into the box. Mohammad Alavi met the ball with a powerful header, leveling the score at 1-1.
The Iranian supporters roared with approval, and the momentum had clearly shifted. The half ended with the score tied, but the difference in energy between the two teams was unmistakable.
For Iran, the equalizer was a massive boost, reigniting their confidence. But for the Chinese team, it was a bitter blow. Yang Yang could feel the weight of disappointment hanging over the squad as they trudged off the field for the break.
...
...
As the halftime whistle blew and the score stood at 1-1, the Chinese national team trudged back to the locker room with a collective air of frustration. Heads were down, shoulders slumped, and the atmosphere was heavy with disappointment. Yang Yang, in particular, felt the weight of the equalizer pressing on him. His face was etched with dissatisfaction, his head bowed low as he entered the tunnel.
He couldn't shake the feeling of discontent. Despite all the energy and intensity he'd brought to the first half, it felt as if he'd been running in circles without ever finding a meaningful outlet for his efforts. Every sprint, every run into space had gone unrewarded. Iran's defense had been sharp, specifically targeting him, limiting his chances to make an impact.
The sense of being caged—full of energy but with nowhere to release it—was suffocating. It gnawed at him, leaving him both frustrated and deflated. And to make matters worse, conceding just before halftime felt like a punch to the gut. His emotions mirrored those of the rest of the team.
Yet, deep inside, Yang Yang's rational side kept him grounded. He knew that losing his composure would only make matters worse. If anything, the situation demanded calmness and patience. There was still a second half to play, and the game was far from over.
As the players gathered around, head coach Arie Haan moved to the center, his voice cutting through the silence. He started by offering encouragement.
"I saw the effort each of you put in during that half. We worked hard, especially in closing down their right-sided attacks, and for most of the half, we managed to neutralize them," Haan said, his tone steady but measured. "It's unfortunate that one mistake cost us after 45 minutes of hard work."
The coach's expression shifted, and his voice grew firmer as he continued, "But we still have a whole second half to turn things around. We've had an extra day of rest compared to our opponents, and that gives us an advantage in fitness. What's crucial now is that we don't give Iran any more chances down their right flank."
In the days leading up to the game, Haan had drilled the importance of defending the left side. The team had taken it to heart, and for the most part, they'd succeeded. Until the final moments of the first half, Iran hadn't found a way through on the right. But the pressure they applied on China's right side, including on Yang Yang's flank, had disrupted the team's flow.
As Haan spoke, he noticed Yang Yang sitting silently on the bench, sweat dripping from his face, his gaze fixed on the floor. The coach walked over, placing a gentle hand on the young player's shoulder.
"You've done well, Yang Yang," Haan said, offering him a reassuring nod. "Everyone can see how hard you've worked. They're marking you tightly because they know how dangerous you are. Don't let the pressure get to you."
Yang Yang nodded slightly in response, but deep down, the frustration still simmered. There was a fire burning inside him, an overwhelming urge to explode into action, yet he felt as if something was constantly holding him back, keeping him from unleashing his full potential. It was like carrying a heavy boulder on his chest, and he was desperate to cast it off.
"Let me finish this game," Yang Yang muttered under his breath, teeth clenched. His resolve was clear. He wasn't just asking to play—he was determined to see the game through to the end, to fight until the final whistle.
...
...
"We defended well in the first half, especially shutting down the Chinese team's threat on the right."
In the Iranian dressing room, head coach Branko Ivanković stood confidently in front of his players, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he addressed the team. His voice carried a sense of assurance, born from the successful execution of their defensive strategy.
"Yang Yang hasn't made a real impact yet," Ivanković continued. "Aside from that one pass, he hasn't created any significant threats. Remember, he's only 17 years old. If we maintain the level of performance we showed in the first half, we'll be able to keep him quiet for the rest of the game."
Around the room, several players nodded in agreement, their expressions reflecting a growing sense of confidence. A couple of them even exchanged glances, a faint trace of disdain flickering in their eyes. They didn't see Yang Yang as a serious threat—after all, how difficult could it be to handle a 17-year-old?
Champions League experience? Sure, but what of it?
Ivanković, however, took no chances. He had emphasized the need to focus on Yang Yang before the match even began, knowing that the young Chinese forward had the potential to turn the tide if given space. His pre-match instructions had paid off, with Iran's defense effectively neutralizing Yang Yang's influence during the first 45 minutes. The Chinese winger had been a non-factor, constantly running but never finding a way to truly break free.
On the left side of the pitch, the Chinese defense had also been kept in check by Iran's relentless pressure. The right-wing attacks spearheaded by Mehdi Mahdavikia had done their job, pinning China back and limiting their options.
Ivanković's voice took on a sharper edge as he laid out his second-half strategy. "Remember what I told you. As long as we stay organized and don't let our defense fall into disarray, the Chinese team will crumble under our pressure. Keep wearing them down, and the final victory will be ours."
The players absorbed their coach's words with steely focus. They knew that the second half would be just as critical, but they also believed in the game plan. As they prepared to head back out onto the field, they carried the confidence that they had already done most of the hard work—and now, it was just about finishing the job.
...
...
After the halftime break, both teams made their way back onto the pitch at the Workers' Stadium, ready to resume the battle. The air was thick with tension, each side eager to break the deadlock.
However, just minutes into the second half, the Chinese team was dealt an unexpected blow.
"The referee has stopped play," the commentator's voice rang out through the stadium.
Moments earlier, Yang Yang had burst down the right flank, using his speed to evade the Iranian defense before delivering a dangerous cross into the penalty area. Hao Dong, the striker, rose to challenge for the ball, but in a fierce aerial duel with an Iranian defender, the two clashed heads. Both players crumpled to the ground, blood trickling from Hao Dong's forehead.
"Hao Dong has been heavily marked all game, and now it seems he's taken a serious knock," the commentator continued. "The referee is signaling for immediate medical attention, as bleeding must be treated without delay according to the rules."
The Chinese players gathered anxiously nearby as the medical team rushed onto the field to tend to Hao Dong, who lay on the grass in clear discomfort. His face was pale, and the gash on his forehead was deep. There was no question that this was more than just a minor injury.
"From the looks of it, this could be a serious blow to China's attacking options," the commentator noted gravely. "Hao Dong is a key player up front, and being targeted physically by the Iranian defense has clearly taken its toll."
On the sidelines, head coach Arie Haan and assistant coach De Yang could be seen in urgent discussion, weighing their options. The clock had just ticked into the 49th minute, and it seemed that they had little choice but to make an early substitution.
"The Chinese team doctors are doing everything they can, but from the expressions on the coaching staff's faces, it appears Hao Dong won't be able to continue."
Indeed, after a few minutes of assessment, the stretcher was brought over, and it was clear to everyone in the stadium that Hao Dong's match had come to an unfortunate end. The forced substitution would undoubtedly alter the Chinese team's tactics moving forward, as they prepared to adapt to the sudden change.
"An early substitution for the Chinese team, just four minutes into the second half. This could have major implications for the remainder of the match."
...
...
"Bring on Li Ming and push Yang Yang up front," Arie Haan commanded, his face stern with resolve.
The nearby Chinese coaching staff member looked taken aback. "But he's not in good form this game—are you sure moving him to the striker position is the right call?"
Haan's eyes narrowed. "It's not about form. He's being tightly marked. Moving him to the front line will free him from their defensive shackles and throw their system off balance." His tone left little room for debate.
The staff member hesitated, still doubtful. "It feels like a gamble. He's only seventeen."
Haan's expression hardened. "And he scored in a Champions League final."
The room fell silent. That was an indisputable fact. It wasn't just remarkable for China; across all of Asia, few players—if any—could boast such an achievement at such a young age. To even feature in a Champions League final at seventeen was extraordinary. To score the winning goal? That was unheard of.
Yang Yang had done it, though. He had come off the bench, made his mark, and secured the victory. His goal had stunned the football world.
"I still think it's risky," assistant coach De Jong murmured, his voice laced with concern.
Haan nodded, but his eyes were filled with confidence. "He's holding something back. I can see it. I was a professional player once, and I know when a player is biding their time, waiting for the right moment. If Iran loosens their defense against him, even for a second, he'll make them pay dearly."
Haan's conviction was unwavering. He had been a highly successful player in his time, and his instincts were sharpened by years of top-level football. He had received glowing reports about Yang Yang from his Dutch contacts—icons like Johnny Rep and Ruud Krol. Every time they discussed Yang Yang, they all highlighted the same defining trait.
His relentless spirit.
As a former legend himself, Arie Haan understood the importance of that quality better than most. Players who refused to give up, who kept fighting no matter the odds, were the ones who turned matches in their favor. He saw that fire in Yang Yang, and he knew it was the kind of drive that could change the course of a game.
"Move Li Ming to midfield and put Yang Yang up front," Haan repeated, his voice carrying finality.
De Jong mulled it over for a moment, then turned towards the bench to relay the instructions.
Some of the Chinese coaching staff exchanged glances, a few quietly shaking their heads. To them, this felt like another one of the Dutchman's stubborn decisions, rooted in his pride and belief in the superiority of Dutch football.
They couldn't shake the feeling that Arie Haan's unwavering faith in Yang Yang stemmed from the fact that the young player came through the Dutch system—Ajax, no less. But despite their reservations, they knew they had to trust in Haan's experience and judgment. After all, he had been right before.
...
...
"The Chinese team has made a substitution, bringing on veteran Li Ming to replace the injured Hao Dong," the commentator announced as the change was made.
"Now, this is interesting—Li Ming typically plays on the right wing, but it seems Arie Haan has another plan in mind. Is he pushing Yang Yang up front?"
The camera zoomed in on Li Ming and Yang Yang exchanging words, confirming the tactical shift. The commentator continued, "Yes, it looks like that's exactly what's happening. Yang Yang has been moved into a more advanced role. He'll be partnering with Li Jinyu to form a double forward line."
The anticipation in the stadium grew palpable. All eyes were now on Yang Yang, who had shown flashes of brilliance in previous matches. His Champions League heroics were still fresh in everyone's mind, and now, with this bold tactical adjustment, there was hope that he could deliver something special once again.
"Can Yang Yang recapture the form he's shown in the past and rise to the occasion? That's the big question now."
The commentator's voice took on a hopeful tone. "At this moment, it's not just me wondering—every fan in this stadium and countless more across the country watching from their homes have their hopes pinned on him. Everyone is eager to see if this young talent can once again give us a moment of brilliance."
The roar from the crowd swelled as Yang Yang took his place up front, the weight of expectation heavy on his shoulders. But this was the kind of stage where legends were made, and Yang Yang had already proven he could handle the pressure. Now, it was time to see if he could rise to the challenge once more.
...
...
"He's under immense pressure right now," Wei Zhen muttered nervously, shaking his head as he watched from the stands of the Workers' Stadium.
The tension was palpable. Everyone could feel it—Yang Yang had replaced the veteran Hao Dong, a move that had raised both eyebrows and expectations. While it was a testament to the faith head coach Arie Haan had in Yang Yang, it also heaped an enormous amount of pressure on the young forward's shoulders.
Many young players, faced with such intense scrutiny, had crumbled under the weight of expectation. There was a fine line between seizing the moment and being overwhelmed by it.
In the stands, Yang Yongqiang and Su Wenhong sat with their fists clenched, their knuckles white with tension. Every second felt like an eternity as they followed Yang Yang's every move on the pitch. Beside them, Shen Lifang closed her eyes intermittently, her lips moving silently as she offered prayers to Buddha, hoping for divine intervention.
Su Ye, however, was the most visibly affected. Her face was a mask of frost, her jaw tight, and her eyes never left Yang Yang. Her gaze was intense, as though willing him to succeed. To her, it seemed like Yang Yang was the only person on the field, the game itself reduced to a background for his performance.
Unlike the 60,000 fans filling the stadium, who were there for the excitement of the match, these were the players' family members, and every move on the field tugged at their hearts in a way no one else could understand.
"Relax," Wei Zhen said, though his voice lacked conviction. "Yang Yang's always been focused. He knows how to handle the pressure in critical moments. He once said that enduring pressure is a form of progress."
His words were meant to reassure those around him, but it was clear he was also trying to calm his own nerves. Despite his outward confidence, there was an undeniable edge of uncertainty in his tone, as if he wasn't entirely sure whether he believed what he was saying.
...
...
The coach on the sidelines was tense, and the family members in the stands were on edge, but Yang Yang, out on the pitch, felt none of that pressure. Or at least, not as intensely as those watching him.
After being pushed into the striker position, Yang Yang didn't feel any relief. The defensive pressure in the center was even more suffocating than on the flanks. As soon as he moved into the middle, the Iranian defenders became noticeably more alert, their eyes never leaving him.
Yet, Yang Yang wasn't in a hurry to prove himself. He continued playing his part, pressing the opposition's defense, pulling back when needed to link up with his teammates, and making himself a constant nuisance. The match had entered a delicate phase.
As the second half unfolded, Iran gradually began to dictate the tempo. Having equalized before halftime, their morale was high, and with superior physical strength, they were starting to gain a foothold. But the Chinese team wasn't folding either—they continued to battle, exchanging blows in this hard-fought contest.
Neither side had made any substitutions beyond the forced change for China, and the match remained finely balanced. It was clear that unless someone made a crucial mistake or a player produced a moment of magic, the game seemed destined for extra time.
In the day's earlier semi-final, Japan had battled Bahrain to a 3-3 draw before winning with a golden goal in extra time, sending them to the final. Now, with the way things were unfolding here, China versus Iran seemed likely to follow a similar path.
Then, out of nowhere, Iran created a dangerous chance.
Ali Karimi, renowned for his dribbling, managed to slice through China's midfield with a solo run. As the Chinese defenders closed in, he switched the ball out wide to Hossein Kaebi, who charged forward at speed and unleashed a powerful cross. The ball ricocheted off a Chinese defender, flying out for a corner.
The atmosphere inside the Workers' Stadium turned electric as tension gripped the crowd.
All of Iran's towering players flooded into the penalty area, while the Chinese defenders scrambled back into position. Yang Yang, with his blistering pace, stayed upfield, ready for a counterattack, while Li Jinyu dropped back to the edge of the box for added support.
The Iranian corner kick curled dangerously into the box with vicious spin, but Li Weifeng timed his jump perfectly, clearing the ball with a powerful header. The clearance, however, fell to an Iranian player just outside the area, who immediately took a shot. The crowd gasped, but Zhao Junzhe threw himself in front of the ball, blocking it with his body. The rebound fell to Zheng Zhi, who quickly played it out wide.
Li Ming, who found himself unmarked, seized the opportunity, but the Iranian defenders were closing in fast. With no time to lose, he spotted a figure sprinting down the right flank, waving for the ball. It was Yang Yang.
Without hesitation, Li Ming sent the ball down the line, narrowly avoiding the Iranian defenders. Yang Yang, accelerating like a bullet, latched onto the ball just before it went out of bounds, expertly controlling it as he streaked past the halfway line and into Iranian territory.
Now, the stadium buzzed with anticipation. This was what Yang Yang lived for—this open space, this breakaway run, with only the defenders and the goalkeeper between him and glory.
His senses were heightened. He could feel the ball glued to his feet, and with his vision sharpened by instinct, he saw every movement on the pitch as if he had complete control. The Iranian defenders, scrambling back, were already bracing for the worst.
One of them managed to catch up near the edge of the penalty area. Just as he reached Yang Yang, the young forward abruptly slowed down, dragging the ball behind him with a deft flick before cutting sharply inward. The defender was left stumbling, unable to foul him in time, and Yang Yang surged forward again, slanting into the box.
Another Iranian defender rushed to close him down, positioning himself perfectly to force Yang Yang toward the goal line. But as the defender squared up, Yang Yang's body dipped left, a feint so subtle that the defender instinctively shifted to block a cut inside.
Too late, the defender realized his mistake.
Yang Yang had executed his signature step-over, leaving the defender in his wake as he surged toward the byline. Now, only the goalkeeper stood between him and a potential game-winning moment.
But the angle was tight—too tight. The Iranian goalkeeper was positioned well, guarding the near post, leaving almost no space for a clean shot. Behind him, another defender and a midfielder were closing in fast, ready to block any attempt Yang Yang made.
There was no room for error. One chance. One shot.
What would Yang Yang do ?
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