Midfield virtuoso

Jess has a backer

"Damn it, Helim! Have you exhausted all your vim and vigor on the dalliance with some wench last night? Pass and receive the ball with more alacrity, for God's sake!" bellowed the thick-bearded brawny man on the training ground of Schalke 04 U18, his face flushed with rage and his every word laced with expletives.

Yet, despite the torrent of foul language that spewed forth from the bearded man's mouth like a tempest, the players under his chastisement stood meek and docile, akin to quivering quails. The very thought of retorting was as alien to them as the idea of defying the laws of nature.

Who, in their right mind, would dare to gainsay Giles Daniel, the fearsome taskmaster of Schalke? To do so would be tantamount to courting professional suicide.

As the helmsman of the U18 youth team for half a decade, Giles Daniel had carved out an unassailable position of authority, such that no one within the team's ranks dared to utter a syllable of dissent.

However, just as Giles Daniel was in the throes of lambasting his charges for their lackluster performance on the field, the assistant coach scurried over with a furtive air.

"Boss, old Jess has shown up," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

At the mention of old Jess, Giles Daniel's brows knitted together in a frown of consternation. Old Jess was no run-of-the-mill individual. This grizzled veteran was a renowned scout for Dortmund, having dedicated nearly two decades of his life to unearthing nascent talent for the club. His track record was a veritable who's who of football prodigies, with over ten budding stars having emerged under his watchful eye. Consequently, all the youth teams accorded him a degree of deference bordering on reverence.

"What on earth is he doing here? I'm in the thick of training," Giles Daniel muttered, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

"Boss, he's brought along a dark-haired Asian lad. Perhaps he's unearthed a diamond in the rough somewhere," the assistant coach ventured.

"Asian??" Giles Daniel's eyes widened in surprise. Given old Jess's seasoned acumen as a scout, it was highly unusual for him to parade a potential recruit directly onto the field in such a cavalier manner.

After a moment's hesitation, Giles Daniel decided to have the assistant coach usher old Jess onto the training ground.

The moment Giles Daniel's gaze alighted upon Su Bai, it was as if he were subjecting the young man to a minute and penetrating scrutiny, akin to the meticulous examination of a rare artifact.

Su Bai, standing at a height of 1.8 meters, presented a somewhat wiry and unimposing figure, his physique suggesting a lack of robustness and physical prowess. This was the initial impression that Su Bai etched upon Giles Daniel's mind. However, Giles Daniel dismissed it with a mental shrug. After all, the Japanese and South Koreans plying their trade in the Bundesliga often exhibited a similar physical profile.

"Hi! Daniel, I could hear your colorful language from the entrance," old Jess quipped, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes. There was an air of familiarity and informality in his tone, as if the two were old comrades rather than representatives of rival clubs.

Despite the lack of deference in old Jess's greeting, Giles Daniel extended his hand in a gesture of grudging respect. One did not simply disregard the contributions of a man who had toiled for the club for twenty long years.

"What brings you to our humble abode? Have you unearthed another prodigious talent for me?" Giles Daniel inquired, his tone a curious blend of skepticism and hope.

"That's precisely the case. Give this young lad a whirl," old Jess replied, his voice tinged with a note of excitement. "He was recently given the heave-ho by Dortmund, but mark my words, we might just be on the cusp of a serendipitous discovery."

With that, old Jess propelled Su Bai forward, presenting him to Giles Daniel like a prized offering.

"Hello, sir! My name is Su Bai, and I hail from China," Su Bai announced, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

China? Giles Daniel's eyebrows arched in surprise. He was, of course, familiar with the Chinese presence in the footballing world. There was that one player, Hao Junmin, who was currently treading the boards of the first team. However, his appearances had been sporadic and inconsistent, much like a flickering candle in the wind. Word had it that he was considered the cream of the crop in China's footballing fraternity.

"This lad here is reputed to possess a deft touch when it comes to passing. Why not let him strut his stuff on the field?" old Jess proffered, cutting straight to the chase and highlighting Su Bai's purported forte.

Su Bai, upon hearing old Jess's introduction, felt a pang of dismay. Passing? Damn it all! He had been yearning to enhance his shooting prowess. As a forward, the accidental upgrade of his passing attribute had been a bitter pill to swallow.

"Passing, you say?" Giles Daniel's interest was piqued. Truth be told, he had been on the lookout for a player with a knack for threading incisive passes. His current attacking midfielder, Helim O'Shea, was a veritable powerhouse in terms of physicality but woefully lacking in the finesse of passing.

"And what position do you typically grace with your presence?" Giles Daniel queried, his eyes fixed intently on Su Bai.

"Forward, sir!" Su Bai replied without hesitation, his response eliciting a resigned shake of the head from old Jess. All his painstaking efforts during the journey to convince Su Bai of his midfield potential seemed to have been in vain.

Giles Daniel, however, responded with a bemused smile. "You, a forward, claim to be proficient in passing? That's quite the anomaly."

Su Bai, his mind racing and his eyes darting between Giles Daniel and the alluring prospect of the system reward that awaited him, hastily amended his response. "Sir, in truth, I find myself most at home in the midfield. However, the role of a forward has always been the stuff of my dreams."

Giles Daniel, not one to dilly-dally, promptly halted the ongoing skirmish between the two teams on the field. "Off you go. You're in. Helim O'Shea, vacate the field and relinquish your vest to this young man."

Helim O'Shea, upon hearing his head coach's stentorian command, complied without a murmur. He hastily made his way off the field and proffered his vest to Su Bai, his eyes conveying a sense of gratitude that seemed curiously out of place.

Su Bai, bemused by this unexpected display of gratitude, was momentarily taken aback. He had, after all, ostensibly usurped the other man's position.

"Benkehi, do the honors and apprise this young man of our tactical setup," Giles Daniel instructed, his voice brooking no argument.

A strapping young lad with flaxen hair and a countenance that bespoke of confidence and experience sauntered over. "Hello! I'm Benkehi. It seems we're destined to be temporary comrades for the time being."

Su Bai extended his hand, and the two exchanged a firm handshake.

"We're Team A. Observe that imposing figure yonder? That's our right winger, Joey French. He's a veritable speed demon, blessed with both pace and power," Benkehi began, his words flowing with the practiced ease of a seasoned veteran.

"And that bald-headed dynamo? He's our forward, Whit Benedict. A force to be reckoned with in the penalty area," he continued, gesturing animatedly towards the players in question.

"I, myself, hold down the fort in the attacking midfield. Our formation, for the moment, is a 4-3-3. My role is to orchestrate the play, to be the conductor of our symphony of attack."

"Now, when the ball comes my way, I shall pass it to you. Your task, young man, will be to marshal our offensive forays, to be the lynchpin around which our attacks revolve."

Benkehi's explanation was a masterclass in brevity and clarity, a testament to his familiarity with such impromptu introductions. It was evident that he had grasped the essence of the head coach's intentions. This was, after all, nothing more than a cursory trial, a litmus test to gauge Su Bai's mettle. If he acquitted himself well, the wheels of opportunity would begin to turn. If not, he would simply fade back into obscurity, a passing footnote in the annals of Schalke 04's trials and tribulations.

Old Jess, standing on the sidelines, leaned forward, his hands clasped in a gesture of anticipation. His eyes were fixed unblinkingly on Su Bai, as if willing the young man to succeed.

Giles Daniel, for his part, maintained an inscrutable expression, his thoughts hidden behind a mask of impassivity.

Su Bai, taking a deep breath, stepped onto the field.

To his astonishment, as he took his position, he became acutely aware of a strange phenomenon. Perhaps it was the result of his fully upgraded passing attribute, but the world around him seemed to have transformed. Around him, faint lines and a constellation of numbers materialized, as if the very fabric of the game had been laid bare, its secrets revealed in a digital tapestry.

Was this the fabled data visualization of passing routes? Could it be that the system was truly as remarkable as it seemed?

"Beep!" The shrill sound of the referee's whistle pierced the air, signaling the commencement of the intra-team training match that would determine Su Bai's fate.

Benkehi, ever the wily operator, had discerned the head coach's underlying impatience. He knew that Giles Daniel was eager to dispense with this unheralded Chinese lad posthaste.

And so, with the whistle's clarion call still ringing in his ears, Benkehi, upon receiving the return pass from the forward Whit Benedict, executed a swift and somewhat audacious pass, sending the ball hurtling towards Su Bai.

However, the pass was a trifle too precipitate. Su Bai, caught unawares, fumbled in his attempt to control the ball.

Well, it wasn't an outright failure. He did manage to make contact with the ball, but the manner in which he did so was far from elegant. The ball came to rest a full two meters in front of him, a glaring testament to his lackluster ball control skills.

Benkehi's face contorted in a grimace of disappointment. Giles Daniel, on the sidelines, shook his head in disbelief, his eyes seeking out old Jess's reaction.

Old Jess, for his part, felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. But, true to his years of experience and the unwritten code of the footballing fraternity, he maintained his composure.

"This young man is likely suffering from a bout of nerves. Moreover, he has already endured one match this morning. Fatigue might be clouding his judgment," he offered, his voice steady but tinged with a note of defensiveness.

Giles Daniel responded with a sardonic smile, but refrained from comment. In his eyes, this was not a case of nerves or fatigue. This was simply a display of amateurish ineptitude, a harsh reminder that the gulf between the amateur and professional ranks was often as wide as the Grand Canyon.

Su Bai, meanwhile, felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. The collective gaze of his teammates, the coaches, and the scouts was like a searing spotlight, highlighting his every mistake. But Su Bai was not one to be easily cowed. Beneath his somewhat sheepish exterior lurked a heart of steel and a determination that burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.

So, despite the ignominy of his initial fumble, he summoned every ounce of his courage and resolve. With a burst of speed that belied his wiry frame, he surged forward, closing the gap between himself and the ball.

As the players of Team B bore down on him, their eyes filled with the predatory glint of hunters closing in on their prey, Su Bai's vision was suddenly awash with a sea of red. The passing lines that had hitherto been a mere curiosity now took on a new and urgent significance.

Without a moment's hesitation, he executed a deft pull-back, pirouetting on his heel like a seasoned ballroom dancer. And then, with a flick of his ankle, he sent the ball hurtling towards Lloyd Angelo, the defensive midfielder stationed behind him.