Chapter 3 — World-Class Below the Neck
The next day Xia Qi sent Mario Balotelli a text arranging to go fishing together tomorrow.
Because last night the team celebrated the title and the teammates partied very late, Xia Qi figured they would sleep until noon.
Today he could only go to training first…
Watching other people set off fireworks is fun,
but setting off your own fireworks is another kind of fun.
Xia Qi hoped he could set off his own fireworks on the pitch before he turned twenty-three.
So even with the system at his side, he didn't slack off for a moment in training.
"Ding-dong"
"Please choose 'Training' or 'Match' mode."
"Training."
"Please choose your position: A Forward, B…"
"A."
"Detected two skills that need training. Matching training plan…"
"Match complete…"
"Please choose 'Autonomous Mode' or 'One-Click Auto' mode."
"Friendly reminder: during auto mode, the system will automatically perform all required actions for the host."
"One-Click Auto!"
Training is no joke — it's the difference between getting double the result with half the effort and the opposite. Xia Qi decisively chose one-click auto.
The 2011–2012 season was over.
On Manchester City's training ground there was only Xia Qi's solitary figure, but in the club conference room it was lively.
Players were on holiday, so the coaching staff and the marketing department needed the next two months to finalize next season's squad.
It looked like there was plenty of time, but in reality time was tight and they had to work overtime.
"Gentlemen, if we want to defend next season, we must strengthen the defensive line. How are the transfers for Maicon, Wright and Nastasić progressing?"
"Boss, Nastasić and Wright are just waiting to sign, Maicon's a bit of a problem. Inter Milan offered £20 million, Mr. Lennon thinks that's too high."
"Our marketing department did reject their offer. If you think he's essential, I suggest we continue negotiating with cash plus player."
"He must be in my plan. I need you to continue."
"All right, I'll fax them right away. How about £10m plus Savic?"
"Lennon, trust me. £20 million isn't actually high — he's worth that."
"Understood."
"Do De Jong and Hargreaves have to leave?"
"Then we still need to strengthen the midfield…"
"…"
"How far along is the Higuaín transfer?"
"The player's personal desire isn't strong…"
"Sell Santa Cruz and Emmanuel Adebayor. Whether Higuaín or Cavani come, they're not in my plan…"
"What about Xia Qi?"
"We've got Džeko, Agüero, Balotelli, Tévez, and we're bringing in Higuaín or Cavani. Keeping Xia Qi would harm him. The question now is sell or loan?"
"Xia Qi's social anxiety defines his ceiling; he's not worth our time. I suggest we sell him as soon as his one-goal debut made him famous."
"No, no, no — he's a genius! George, you must not have watched Xia Qi play.
Here are Xia Qi's U18 and U21 match footage. If you watch them you'll like him. I suggest we loan him; he will be a card from our academy."
"Li, I admit Xia Qi's match form is great and his training life is disciplined. Chinese hard work is in their bones.
But we all know a superstar needs a strong heart. Think of the supposed Beckenbauer successor — Desler…"
"Bastian Desler has depression, while Xia has social anxiety. They're totally different…"
…
In London, at Arsenal's Colney training base, there was also a meeting room.
The atmosphere in the room was heavy.
Last year Cesc Fàbregas left. This year Robin van Persie would also leave.
A captain a year, a critical blow a year!
Good news: he didn't pay out of his own pocket.
Bad news: he left for the title.
Arsène Wenger's mild voice rose: "Song has decided to go to Barcelona, Denílson is returning to Brazil, so we need reinforcements up front and in midfield."
Wenger paused then added: "With the transfers of Van Persie and Song, we'll have nearly £50 million, so let's keep transfer spending within that."
The room grew even more sombre. Arsenal's "zero-cost" transfers had crushed everyone's enthusiasm.
Wenger was the only one speaking in the conference room:
"Cazorla, Giroud, Podolski…"
The professor rattled off names and realized he was the only one putting on a show, so he switched topics.
"Look, this kid's highlight reel."
On the projector played Xia Qi's U18 and U21 goal compilations and last night's last-gasp winner.
It wasn't that Wenger hatched a fondness for every little kid — members of the Wenger circle just liked prodigies.
Wenger's lieutenants were immediately captivated by Xia Qi in the highlights.
Especially the U18 match against Chelsea, where he ran through players like Messi — it was breathtaking.
Uncle Mi-Fan — Pat Rice — swallowed and asked, "City won't be that stupid, sell him."
Wenger smiled, opened the transfer window — Xia Qi was shockingly listed for sale.
Fuck!
And fresh out of the oven too.
Mancini not only sells his own — the man has no heart!
Laughter filled the conference room.
It turned out the transfer market had someone even worse off than they were; those clubs sold the future, whereas they were merely selling the present.
With that thought, the mood warmed up instantly…
…
Xia Qi didn't know how heated the meetings at Manchester City and Arsenal had been because of him.
He only knew that after training he didn't get a call from Mario Balotelli first — it was his agent Joanna.
"Xia, the Professor wants you."
There was only one Professor in English football — the only manager who could wrestle with Sir Alex Ferguson.
Don't look at José Mourinho — Mourinho could make Sir Alex grind his teeth on and off the pitch, but to Ferguson the Professor, Arsène Wenger, was the man he both loved and hated.
"But I want to stay at City."
"The club told me to contact the Professor."
"Congratulations, Xia…"
Xia Qi didn't feel like this was good news.
But if he had to transfer, Wenger's Arsenal was a good place to go.
Being coveted by him was an honor!
So Xia Qi wasn't so upset; setting aside his feelings for City, this was a good opportunity.
Another day passed.
Xia Qi had already caught six fish; Mario Balotelli, who promised to come soon, hadn't shown up.
Just as Xia Qi fretted, the phone rang:
"Hey! Xia, come over."
"…What are you doing at my house?"
Xia Qi had a bad premonition and rushed back.
A pickup truck was parked outside the noodle shop, and Balotelli was happily chatting with his parents.
"Hi, my dear Xia…"
"Mario, didn't we agree to go fishing together?"
Balotelli patted Xia Qi's butt and wore the face of someone who'd take care of things, then led him to the pickup.
Ta-da… ta-da-da-da…
Balotelli added his own soundtrack, then yanked the truck bed cover off…
A whole load of predatory fish were happily thrashing in the bed of the truck…
Xia Qi stared dumbfounded at the triumphant Balotelli, an ominous feeling growing inside him…
"Mario, I need you to accompany me to fish… you understand?"
"Xia, are you world-class below the neck? Aren't these fish already here?"
Brother! You really understand metaphors!
Thinking about failing the task and being forced to do heavy-makeup training for a week made Xia Qi frantic.
"I want to fish, not have the fish given to me. I'll come find you tomorrow."
"I'm leaving for Italy tonight…"
2012 was a big sports year: Euro 2012 opened on June 8, the Copa América began July 11, and the London Olympics opened July 27.
Xia Qi had no reason to ask Balotelli to stay a day longer.
Xia Qi took a deep breath. No use being angry — sickness comes when you stew.
Forcing a smile, he handed the rod to Balotelli and cast the line into the truck bed.
"Then you catch me a fish now."
Exploit the system bug — the only solution!
"Xia, I'm now sure you're world-class below the neck; these fish already belong to you…"
Your whole family is world-class…
If you don't catch a fish, next week I really will be world-class below the neck…
(END CHAPTER)
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