"Good evening to all our viewers tuning in around the world!"
"We are coming to you live from the iconic Amsterdam Arena—home of Ajax—for what promises to be a thrilling second leg in this season's UEFA Champions League quarter-finals."
"Tonight's clash is one of the most anticipated matchups in European football: Ajax versus AC Milan."
"You can see both teams now assembled in the tunnel, moments away from entering the pitch."
"The man in charge of officiating tonight's contest is Norwegian referee Terje Hauge."
"Hauge is a seasoned UEFA official with considerable experience. This season alone, he's taken charge of six Champions League fixtures. However, he has developed something of a reputation—having handed out 22 yellow cards and two reds across those games."
"His strict interpretation of the rules has generated some controversy, particularly during the group stage match between Chelsea and Real Betis, where he issued seven yellow cards. Managers on both sides were critical of his decisions that night."
"And now, with the crowd in full voice, the two teams, led by tonight's referee, make their way onto the pitch!"
...
...
When Yang Yang emerged from the tunnel, leading the Ajax team behind the referee, the Amsterdam Arena erupted into a thunderous roar.
It may not hold as many fans as the San Siro, but in that moment, the sheer passion and noise inside this stadium were in no way inferior. Every step Yang Yang took onto the pitch was met with deafening chants—his name rolling down from every tier of the stands like waves crashing on the shore.
He was, without question, the pride of Amsterdam.
At the center of the pitch, Shevchenko, wearing the captain's armband for AC Milan, waited for the coin toss. As he and Yang Yang stood face-to-face, a silent tension passed between them—the top two scorers in this season's UEFA Champions League, meeting in a clash that would not only decide a place in the semifinals, but possibly the golden boot as well.
"These are the two most lethal forwards in Europe right now," the commentator declared. "Yang Yang leads the scoring chart with 11 goals, just one shy of tying van Nistelrooy's mark. A brace tonight would make him surpass him. Shevchenko follows closely with 10."
"This match is not just about progression. It could define the battle for the Champions League top scorer."
The coin landed in Ajax's favor. Yang Yang had won the toss and chose to take the opening kick—exactly as the coaching staff had planned. At this level, every marginal gain mattered. The time of kickoff—7:45 p.m.—offered no advantage to either side, but dictating the early tempo might.
Yang Yang returned to his teammates and gathered them in a tight huddle. Arms around shoulders, heads bowed together, they listened closely as their captain addressed them with intensity.
"We've worked all season for this moment."
"Two years ago, AC Milan came here and beat us 1–0. That result nearly sent us out in the group stage."
"Tonight, we stand on the same pitch, and we repay that wound—not just with a win, but by eliminating them."
A chorus of "Yes!" rang out from the group.
"We are Ajax. We're taking our place in the final four!"
"Top four!" they shouted, louder now.
The team broke from the huddle and took up their positions.
Yang Yang and Charisteas stepped into the center circle, ready to start.
"Look at Ajax—look at their energy, their presence," the broadcaster commented. "You can feel it. They're not here just to compete. They're here to conquer."
"That young man there, Yang Yang, is the heartbeat of this side."
"Still only nineteen years old, and already with 43 goals in the Eredivisie this season—an astonishing record. Add 11 more in the Champions League, and you're witnessing the rise of one of football's rarest phenomena."
"As the youngest captain in Champions League history, he's not just making headlines—he's redefining what's possible."
"And maybe, just maybe, decades from now, we'll look back and say: we were there. We witnessed the beginning."
...
...
With the sharp blast of Terje Hauge's whistle, the match officially kicked off.
Charisteas gently nudged the ball back, and Yang Yang immediately turned on his heel, accelerating into midfield space with explosive urgency.
Ajax initiated their customary build-up, recycling possession quickly through the back line before shifting play to the right. Maicon received the ball and surged forward down the flank.
Up ahead, Yang Yang had already raised his hand, motioning toward the right channel just outside Milan's 30-meter line.
Maicon didn't hesitate. Before Seedorf could close him down, he released a crisp, low pass that met Yang Yang in stride.
Yang Yang controlled the ball on the touchline with a delicate first touch and instantly veered inward, cutting diagonally into Milan's half. With a quick drop of the shoulder, he ghosted past Serginho's half-hearted challenge.
"Yang Yang showing his pace—Serginho's been left behind completely!"
"Here comes Ajax with an early surge!"
Driving towards the edge of the penalty area, Yang Yang kept his head up. His eyes scanned the pitch—he saw Kaladze and Nesta slightly out of sync, leaving a narrow channel between them. Dida, perhaps anticipating a cross or cutback, was already leaning right.
In that fraction of a second, a line echoed in Yang Yang's mind—something Marco van Basten had told him just the night before.
"Sometimes, shooting isn't just about scoring—it's about sending a message."
Without a second's hesitation, he made his decision.
Planting his left foot firmly, he drew back his right leg. His posture arched like a drawn bow, and the ball beneath him—the arrow.
Then came the strike.
A thunderous crack rang across the stadium as Yang Yang's foot connected with the ball. It exploded forward—a howitzer of a shot—skimming over Pirlo's head, slicing perfectly between Nesta and Kaladze, and curling toward the top left corner of goal.
"Yang Yang goes for the shot—out of nowhere!"
"Dangerous! Dida's scrambling!"
The ball flew like a missile—low, dipping, swerving with terrifying velocity. Dida, caught shifting to his right, tried to correct his stance, leapt desperately to his left—but he was too late.
The entire Amsterdam Arena gasped as the ball shaved past the outside of the post and fizzed just wide.
So close.
A collective exhale from 50,000 hearts followed a thunderous gasp.
A few centimeters inside, and it would have been a masterpiece.
Yang Yang clenched his fists and let out a roar of frustration, the fire in his eyes burning brighter now. But there was no time for regret. He spun around and jogged back toward midfield, fists pumping to the crowd and his teammates.
...
...
"This kid is really smart, and it's clear to see!"
Up in the stands, Van Basten smiled as he spoke to club chairman Michael van Praag and director Arie van Eijden.
Down on the touchline, Carlo Ancelotti was visibly rattled by Yang Yang's sudden long-range attempt.
That shot had come from 27 meters out, struck with blistering pace and a dangerously tight angle. It had nearly found the back of the net.
It was no wonder Ancelotti had leapt to his feet, shouting towards his players and gesturing wildly from the sidelines.
He was clearly demanding tighter marking on Yang Yang — no more time, no more space, and certainly no more freedom to shoot from that range.
That kind of opportunity, if given again, would be punished.
Van Basten, who had arrived at AC Milan the same year as Ancelotti and played alongside him for several seasons, knew the man's temperament well. And he knew that right now, his old teammate was feeling unsettled.
Yang Yang's long-range effort hadn't just threatened to open the scoring — it had pierced the calm of Milan's tactical setup.
And that wasn't something Ancelotti could afford to ignore.
Opportunities like that don't come twice.
And with Yang Yang's ability, if it came again — he would bury it.
AC Milan would have to stay alert.
...
...
Less than a minute into the match, after Yang Yang unleashed a sudden and high-quality long-range strike, the atmosphere in the Amsterdam Arena ignited instantly. The energy in the stadium surged; the fans were roaring with excitement, and the players responded in kind.
Yang Yang could feel the shift clearly. Something had changed—not just in the crowd, but in the rhythm of the match itself.
The entire stadium was vibrating with intensity. Every time an Ajax player touched the ball, even for a simple pass, the fans erupted in cheers and applause. Their enthusiasm infected the players, who began to press harder, run faster, and attack with greater urgency. Everyone seemed to be lifted by the atmosphere, drawn into the tempo.
AC Milan resumed play with a goal kick, but within seconds, Ajax had won back possession near the halfway line. Instead of forcing things, they calmly passed backwards, restructured, then pushed forward again with confidence and fluidity.
The pace of the game had quickened, and Yang Yang, fuelled by the fire in his chest, felt weightless on his feet. He was bursting with adrenaline. Every step felt sharper, lighter. He recognized this feeling all too well.
This was momentum.
This was the wave Ajax needed to ride.
Shortly after, Ajax mounted another serious attack. Yang Yang drifted right to receive the ball. As soon as the pass came, he cut inside diagonally. This time, though, AC Milan were ready. Serginho tracked him tightly, and Seedorf dropped back to assist.
Yang Yang laid it off to Sneijder and continued his run toward the top of the penalty area. Sneijder took a few steps and fired a pass to the right edge of the box.
Charisteas, who had been positioned just outside the box, made a sprint toward the pass, but Kaladze tracked him tightly. The Greek forward tried to shield and spin, looking for a cutback, but Kaladze kept him pinned. With no clean route inside, Charisteas laid it back to Maicon.
Now stationed level with the edge of the box along the right touchline, Maicon had Seedorf closing him down. He couldn't burst forward, so he shifted the ball inside and looked up.
Yang Yang had now peeled away from Pirlo's zone, calling for the ball once more.
Maicon delivered it cleanly.
The Milan back line, although still well organized, had been pushed back and slightly stretched by Ajax's movement. Gennaro Gattuso was holding his position at the top of the box, Pirlo had been dragged slightly wide, and the back four had pressed just beyond the penalty spot—clearly wary of another long-range effort from Yang Yang.
Yang Yang took the ball and quickly surveyed the field. Rather than try to shoot immediately, he slipped a quick pass back to Sneijder, who had just broken free from Pirlo's attention.
Simultaneously, Yang Yang accelerated—cutting hard behind Serginho, whose body position was momentarily off.
Sneijder immediately threaded the return ball into the space behind Milan's defense, a precise pass that split Serginho and Kaladze.
Yang Yang burst through the gap and latched onto it near the right edge of the six-yard box.
He now had options.
He could attempt a square ball across goal—Charisteas had moved central, and Pienaar was ghosting in at the far post—but Stam and Nesta were stationed firmly between them and the ball. A pass would be hopeful at best.
He could try cutting inside, but Kaladze had recovered quickly and was closing space.
Or, he could take the impossible route—accelerate to the end line and shoot from an absurdly tight angle.
Any other player might have chosen safety. But in that split second, Yang Yang remembered Van Basten's words.
Be more bold and selfish.
He went for it.
With a stepover and a sharp feint, he left Kaladze a half-step behind. Then, from the tightest of angles near the byline, he struck the ball low and hard.
Dida, anticipating a cross or a pull-back, had shifted slightly off his post. Just slightly—but enough.
Yang Yang aimed precisely for the small gap between Dida's left foot and the upright, choosing a low shot with a bounce to make the timing even harder to read.
Dida reacted immediately, dropping low and extending his leg. He felt the ball glance his boot—but not enough. It ricocheted, changed direction slightly, and spun across the line into the net.
"Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooal!!!!!!!!!"
"Oh my God, unbelievable!"
"Only three minutes into the game—less than three minutes—and Ajax have taken the lead against AC Milan!"
"A near-zero-angle finish from Yang Yang!"
"This is simply outrageous!"
"Yang Yang has exploded into this match. Within the first minute, he tested Dida with a thunderous long-range effort, and moments later, he finds the net from the tightest of angles!"
"AC Milan's defensive line has been solid, no doubt about that—but against Yang Yang, even the most disciplined defense means nothing!"
"This is a world-class goal!"
As soon as the ball rippled the net, Yang Yang spun and burst into a full sprint, charging beyond the pitch's edge and leaping over the advertising boards straight toward the fans. Arms wide, fists clenched, he let out a thunderous roar of release.
"AHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Supporters in the front rows leaned over the railing, clutching at his legs in celebration. The entire stadium erupted into madness. A collective roar, deafening and primal.
No one could have predicted this. Not the early screamer, and certainly not this kind of finish—within three minutes, against AC Milan, and from such a tight angle!
Yang Yang was flying. Ajax were flying.
"From the slow-motion replay, you can clearly see this was not just individual brilliance—it was also a beautifully constructed move."
"When Ajax transitioned forward, Yang Yang came deep to combine. Sneijder followed with two direct passes—one reaching Charisteas, though the Greek forward had no opening and was forced to lay it back to Maicon."
"Maicon's role tonight has been very offensive. He's playing almost like a winger."
"Yang Yang pulled wide again, dragging Milan's defensive line with him. He timed his drop perfectly, received from Maicon, then linked with Sneijder once more."
"That third-man run was absolutely key. The timing of Yang Yang's burst, the precision of Sneijder's through ball, and the immediate change of pace—it left Serginho in the dust."
"Kaladze tried to contain him, but once Yang Yang cut inside and went for the near post from that angle... it was inevitable."
"A goal born not only of instinct but of hours of rehearsal. This is clearly something Ajax have drilled on the training ground."
Yang Yang, face red with exhilaration, turned toward the stands and screamed at the top of his lungs. Behind him, his teammates came flooding in, dragging him back toward the pitch, swarming him in wild celebration.
They were beyond thrilled—beyond belief.
1–0 on the night. 4–4 on aggregate.
But crucially, Ajax now had three away goals.
This meant the tie had completely shifted—Ajax were now in command. AC Milan had to respond.
"Ten minutes? You said you'd score in ten—but you did it in three! Are you out of your mind?!"
"So what now? What about the next seven minutes?"
"My God, something has gotten into you today!"
"A zero-angle goal? Seriously? I should just get on my knees right now!"
Yang Yang could barely tell who was saying what. The adrenaline in his body made everything sound like a blur, but one thing was clear: the entire team was riding the same emotional wave as him.
They were euphoric.
The semi-finals—suddenly—they were real. Tangible. Reachable.
After nearly thirty seconds of roaring celebration, the players gradually settled down and jogged back to their positions.
Yang Yang turned to them with a grin.
"It's simple," he said. "In the next seven minutes, I'll try to get another one."
The boys burst out laughing, crowding around to hug him again.
In the past two seasons, Yang Yang had become the engine of Ajax. They moved forward as one—with him at the front, pulling the train forward.
Eredivisie titles, the UEFA Cup, the UEFA Super Cup—and now, on the cusp of a Champions League semi-final.
How could they not be emotional?
In their eyes, Yang Yang's influence was no less than that of Ronald Koeman.
Because time and again, he delivered the extraordinary. He brought belief. He made the impossible look ordinary.
Like that opening long shot.
Like that impossible near-post goal just now.
He played like a god.