"My home's gate is always open, embracing the world with open arms."
"Years blossom with youthful smiles, welcoming this... bah, bah, bah..."
May 3, 2008. The Labor Day holiday week was in full swing.
In a modest apartment in Building 5 of the Guanghua New City residential complex, just beyond Beijing's East Fourth Ring Road, Zhu Heyuan—Director of the Football Association's Youth Department—was humming the most popular tune of the moment. He sipped tea from his battered thermos, occasionally pausing to spit out a stray tea leaf that had escaped the filter.
On the living room sofa sat a gaunt, weathered middle-aged man. His brows were knitted together in a tight furrow, his posture rigid with barely contained frustration as he watched Zhu Heyuan with steady, searching eyes.
"Director Zhu, won't you please reconsider?" the man said, his voice carrying the gravel of too many training sessions shouted from the touchline. "This kid I'm telling you about—he's genuinely worth a proper look."
"I've already told you, Old Liu." Zhu Heyuan waved a dismissive hand, not bothering to hide his impatience. "It's a national holiday. There's absolutely no need to rush these matters. We can discuss all of this perfectly well during regular working hours. And look at you—bringing all these gifts to my home. It's far too extravagant. Completely unnecessary."
"How can I not be in a hurry?"
Liu Chunming—head coach of the National Youth Team, former manager of Tianjin Teda, and former head coach of the national under-17 squad—wore an expression of profound bitterness. The lines on his face seemed deeper than usual, carved there by months of fruitless effort.
"You tell me," Liu continued, his voice tight. "How many times did I come to see you last year? And every single time, you told me you needed more time to evaluate him. To observe him further. To weigh the options."
He leaned forward, his weathered hands clasped together. "It's already May, Director Zhu. The AFC U-19 Championship in Saudi Arabia kicks off in October. I have to start assembling my squad now. I need to get the group together in advance, build some chemistry, establish a system."
"I've never really come to you like this before, practically begging. But this kid is genuinely special. You must know how much public attention he's generating online. The fans are talking about him constantly."
Liu Chunming's voice took on an edge of genuine bewilderment. "He's starting matches in the Bundesliga. The Bundesliga! Just yesterday, he led his team to a crucial victory against Schalke 04 in the Ruhr Derby. His current level is more than good enough for the senior national team, let alone the youth setup."
"You want results, Director? I'm prepared to stake my entire coaching career on this. Give me this player, and I guarantee you—I will bring home a championship."
Zhu Heyuan forced a thin, diplomatic smile and opened his mouth to respond, but Liu Chunming pressed on, his momentum carrying him forward.
"Look at the squad I'm putting together: Yu Yang, Zhang Linpeng, Zhang Chengdong, Wang Yunlong, Zhu Ting, Gao Di. You add Jin Hayes to that group, and it's absolutely perfect. Complete."
"Forget about our neighbors—South Korea, Japan. Even if we run into Australia, or even some of the stronger European youth sides, we could genuinely compete. His technical ability is simply—"
"Enough, Old Liu." Zhu Heyuan's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Stop right there."
Liu Chunming's earnest, almost desperate persuasion was abruptly silenced. He closed his mouth and watched as Zhu Heyuan set down his thermos with deliberate care. The Director's face still wore a smile, but it was a smile now tinged with something colder—alofness, perhaps. A hint of disdain.
"I am fully aware of the player you're referring to," Zhu Heyuan said, his tone shifting into something more formal, more bureaucratic. "And let me be clear: in principle, when selecting players for our national youth programs, we should absolutely maintain an open and inclusive attitude. We should select promising young talents without rigid adherence to conventional patterns. Every gifted player deserves a fair opportunity to serve their country."
He paused, letting the weight of his next words settle.
"However. The reality of the situation is what it is. Everything you're describing to me is purely theoretical. This player has never participated in our domestic football environment. Not once. How can you possibly guarantee that he would be able to gel effectively with his teammates? To integrate into our established tactical framework?"
"Football is, after all, a team sport. It is not a stage for individual heroics, no matter how impressive those heroics might appear from a distance."
"But—" Liu Chunming tried to interject.
"Hold on a moment." Zhu Heyuan raised a hand, silencing him. "You should take a closer look at the other candidates first. These are players recommended by established professional clubs—Beijing Guoan, Shandong Luneng, Jiangsu Sainty, Dalian Shide. All of them are legitimate products of our domestic professional youth academy system. Properly developed. Properly vetted."
"In contrast, this Jin Hayes you keep mentioning... he emerged from a talent show, did he not? A television program. And so what if he has attached himself to some ordinary foreign club? Can that experience truly compare to the structured development provided by our professional academies?"
Liu Chunming's eyes widened involuntarily at Director Zhu's words. For a moment, he genuinely wondered if he had misheard.
Ordinary foreign clubs?
Arsenal and Borussia Dortmund—ordinary?
A teenage prospect personally identified and recruited by Arsène Wenger himself. The Bundesliga's leading assist provider in his debut professional season. And this wasn't enough? Not as good as the products of domestic youth academies?
Did this man even understand...
Oh. Right.
He didn't understand football.
Liu Chunming remembered now. Director Zhu Heyuan hadn't come up through the sporting ranks at all. He was originally just a teacher from a fashion institute, transferred into football administration through connections and circumstance. The man sitting across from him, making decisions that would shape the future of the national youth program, had probably never laced up a pair of boots in any serious capacity.
"So you see," Zhu Heyuan continued, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing behind Liu Chunming's carefully neutral expression, "there is a reason why established clubs recommend players. There is a system. A process. As for this Jin Hayes—has anyone formally recommended him? Has anyone stepped forward to vouch for his character and suitability? No. No one has."
"Heh." A short, bitter laugh escaped Liu Chunming's lips. "Heh heh heh."
So that was it. After all the talk, after all the bureaucratic language about principles and processes, it still came down to one thing.
Money.
As a former head coach of Tianjin Teda, Liu Chunming was all too intimately familiar with how this particular game was played. He knew exactly how the machinery worked. National Youth Team midfielders like Hui Jiakang and goalkeepers like Zhang Shichang had also come through the Tianjin Teda youth academy. Liu had a rough idea of what the club had invested—financially and otherwise—to ensure their players received favorable consideration.
On the surface, it looked like player selection. Talent identification. Squad building.
In reality, it was pure business. Transactional. Transactional from top to bottom.
What good was it that Jin Hayes was breaking records and securing the Bundesliga assist king title in his first professional season? What did any of that matter here?
Did he have the right connections? The right introductions?
Could his family pay the necessary fees? The guarantee deposits? The "training compensation" that mysteriously found its way into various administrative pockets?
Liu Chunming felt a strange, hollow sensation settle into his chest. It was something adjacent to relief, though far more bitter. He laughed again, but this time it was directed entirely at himself—a self-mocking, rueful sound.
He had known the outcome before he ever set foot in this apartment. He had known it last year, and the year before that. Yet he had still made the visit. Still sat on this uncomfortable sofa. Still humiliated himself by pleading with a man who viewed footballers as line items on a balance sheet.
He had made a fool of himself. Again.
Seeing the shift in Liu Chunming's expression—the resignation, the bitter acceptance—Zhu Heyuan's eyes darted briefly. He was not an unintelligent man, merely a self-interested one. He recognized when a conversation was reaching its natural endpoint, and he knew better than to leave things on an entirely sour note. There was always room for... flexibility.
"In principle," Zhu Heyuan said, his tone softening just fractionally, "the situation is indeed quite difficult to navigate. The established procedures are clear. However..."
He let the word hang in the air.
"Given that this player has achieved certain... measurable results abroad, it is possible that he possesses genuine abilities worth considering. That cannot be entirely dismissed."
"You might consider reaching out to him directly. Or perhaps contact his club. Inquire whether they would be willing to provide some form of guarantee or sponsorship. Alternatively, his family could provide the necessary assurances and... administrative support."
"After all," Zhu Heyuan concluded, leaning back in his chair with the satisfied air of a man who had just solved a complex problem, "the National Youth Team represents the image of our football program. It represents the future. Regardless of any individual achievements abroad, there must be a basic screening mechanism in place. We have a responsibility to safeguard the future of the national team, Old Liu. Surely you understand this."
"Right." Liu Chunming's voice was flat. "Right, right. The Director is absolutely correct."
The current National Youth Team squad was, by most objective measures, a genuine golden generation. The roster Liu Chunming had painstakingly assembled through coordination with various clubs was genuinely talented, genuinely promising. Yu Yang, Zhang Linpeng, Zhang Chengdong, Wang Yunlong, Zhu Ting, Gao Di—these were legitimate prospects with real futures in the professional game.
But the process was inevitably compromised. Manipulated by clubs with deeper pockets and better connections. Flashy but fundamentally limited players would be inserted into the squad, taking up valuable spots that should have gone to more deserving candidates. It was the way things worked. It had always been the way things worked.
Liu Chunming was just a tactical coach. A football man who had spent his entire adult life on training pitches, in video rooms, on the touchline. What power did he really have to change a system that had been entrenched for decades?
Image? Future?
Perhaps those things had been lost a long time ago. Perhaps they had never truly existed in the first place.
Still. Still.
Since Director Zhu had technically relented—had left the door open, if only by a crack—Liu Chunming decided he would make one more attempt. One more push. He would reach out. He would make the calls. He would try to find a way through the bureaucratic maze.
No matter how unpleasant the process. No matter how much it made his stomach turn. If the goal could somehow be achieved—if Jin Hayes could actually join the National Youth Team, integrate with the squad, and eventually earn consideration for the senior national team...
Perhaps. Just perhaps.
He could light a small spark in the overwhelming darkness.
Couldn't he?
….
Leaving the Guanghua Xincheng residential complex behind, Liu Chunming walked slowly toward a bus stop at the intersection. His mind was still churning, replaying the conversation with Director Zhu, searching for angles he might have missed, arguments he might have framed more persuasively.
He passed a small newsstand, the kind that seemed to be vanishing from the city's streets one by one. The vendor had propped up the day's papers on a wire rack, their front pages facing outward to catch the attention of passersby.
One headline in particular stopped Liu Chunming in his tracks. Sports Weekly.
"DFB-Pokal Final Thriller in Berlin: Young Star Shines but Cannot Prevent Bayern Triumph"
"Toni's 120th-Minute Winner Secures 3-2 Victory in Classic Encounter"
Liu Chunming picked up the paper, his eyes scanning the match report hungrily.
'Berlin, April 28 — The DFB-Pokal Final. Bayern Munich and Borussia Dortmund contested the championship at the historic Olympiastadion in Berlin.'
'The recently outstanding 15-year-old talent Jin Hayes started the match for Dortmund. Coach Thomas Doll sent out a youthful squad to face the Bundesliga champions, who fielded a full-strength lineup featuring established stars such as Miroslav Klose, Luca Toni, Franck Ribéry, Mark van Bommel, and Bastian Schweinsteiger.'
'Both sides battled for 120 minutes in a gripping contest, with Bayern's leading scorer Luca Toni heading home the extra-time winner to secure a narrow 3-2 victory and successfully defend the 2007-2008 DFB-Pokal title.'
Throughout the match, Jin Hayes—still months shy of his sixteenth birthday—emerged as the most compelling figure on the pitch.
3rd minute: Jin Hayes broke past German international Philipp Lahm on the right wing with a stunning rainbow flick, creating space to deliver a dangerous cross into the penalty area. Striker Alexander Frei's resulting shot, however, sailed wide of the target.
5th minute: Bayern Munich responded immediately. Klose rose highest to meet a cross, but his header was safely gathered by Dortmund goalkeeper Roman Weidenfeller.
15th minute: Bayern came agonizingly close to opening the scoring. Luca Toni's stabbed effort from inside the box was parried out of bounds by a sprawling Weidenfeller. From the ensuing corner, defender Daniel Van Buyten's powerful header flashed just wide of the post.
'21st minute: Jin Hayes once again broke through from the right flank, using a sequence of exquisite touches and body feints to evade the combined attentions of Lahm and the combative Van Bommel. Penetrating into the penalty area, he delivered a precise cutback pass, but Nuri Şahin's late-arriving shot was blocked by Bayern goalkeeper Michael Rensing.'
'25th minute — GOAL. Borussia Dortmund 1-0 Bayern Munich. Jin Hayes received the ball in a congested midfield, executed a sharp Marseille turn to escape Van Bommel's pressing, and threaded a sudden through ball that sliced through Bayern's defensive line. Alexander Frei timed his run perfectly to beat the offside trap and finished coolly one-on-one with Rensing.'
'39th minute — GOAL. Bayern Munich 1-1 Borussia Dortmund. Schweinsteiger delivered an inswinging corner kick, and Klose rose above the Dortmund defense to power a header into the back of the net.'
The second half resumed with both sides trading blows. Jin Hayes repeatedly created dangerous situations through his individual skill and dribbling, but his Dortmund teammates squandered multiple opportunities to regain the lead.
'73rd minute — GOAL. Bayern Munich 2-1 Borussia Dortmund. Schweinsteiger collected a loose ball outside the penalty area and unleashed a thunderous long-range strike that flew past Weidenfeller into the top corner.'
'90+3rd minute — GOAL. Bayern Munich 2-2 Borussia Dortmund. In the dying moments of regulation, Dortmund launched one final, desperate attack. Jin Hayes, having switched to the left wing, combined with Marco Reus in a rapid exchange of passes. Jin Hayes then danced past three converging Bayern defenders and delivered a low cross into the six-yard box, where Alexander Frei applied the simplest of finishes into an empty net. The dramatic equalizer forced extra time.'
Jin Hayes's exceptional performance had single-handedly dragged the match into an additional thirty minutes.
'105th minute: Jin Hayes again tormented Lahm on the flank, this time with a lightning step-over before delivering a spectacular curling cross with the outside of his boot. His exhausted teammates, however, could not convert—Reus and Frei both failing to apply the finishing touch to golden opportunities.'
'119th minute — GOAL. Bayern Munich 3-2 Borussia Dortmund. Capitalizing on their superior physical condition and depth, Bayern launched a relentless wave of attacks in the closing stages of extra time. Luca Toni rose to meet another pinpoint Schweinsteiger delivery and headed the ball past a helpless Weidenfeller. The winner.'
Ultimately, Bayern Munich—who had already secured the Bundesliga title with four rounds to spare—completed the domestic double. Borussia Dortmund, despite a heroic effort, fell just short of claiming what would have been the club's fourth DFB-Pokal trophy.
Throughout the final, the dazzling performance of the young loanee Jin Hayes sparked widespread discussion and admiration among European media outlets covering the match...
"Hey! Sir! Are you buying that or not?"
"Huh?" Liu Chunming looked up, startled from his reading.
"I said, you've been standing there staring at that newspaper for ages. Are you going to buy it? It's only two yuan."
The newsstand owner, a weathered man with a thick Shandong accent, was eyeing Liu Chunming with growing impatience.
"Yes. Yes, I'll buy it."
Liu Chunming fumbled in his trouser pocket and produced two coins, pressing them into the vendor's outstretched palm. He folded the newspaper carefully, almost reverently, and tucked it under his arm.
His eyes lingered on the front-page photograph: Jin Hayes standing on the Olympiastadion pitch, hands on his hips, head slightly bowed, the disappointment etched clearly on his young face. The silver DFB-Pokal runner-up medal hung around his neck, a consolation he clearly had no interest in celebrating.
Liu Chunming felt that same ache deep in his chest. That familiar, gnawing sense of what could have been.
What a shame, he thought. If the circumstances were different. If the system were different. With a player like this... why wouldn't we be able to qualify for a World Cup? Why wouldn't we be able to compete?
…
Germany. Dortmund.
The Heinrich family's backyard.
Under the vast, star-scattered night sky, Jin Hayes sat in the old wooden rocking chair that Anna usually occupied during lazy summer afternoons. He held a half-empty bottle of root beer loosely in one hand, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the rooftops, somewhere in the darkness above.
Life, he was beginning to understand, was rather like the moon hanging in the sky tonight. Most of the time, it wouldn't be perfectly round. There would always be a sliver of shadow, a portion of darkness eating away at the edges of the light.
The DFB-Pokal final from two days ago still felt like a vivid, disjointed dream. Jin Hayes was even a little dazed when he tried to recall the sequence of events. He couldn't quite remember how he had traveled to Berlin. Couldn't clearly summon the details of the match itself. Certain moments were crystalline—the feeling of the ball leaving his boot for Frei's equalizer, the roar of the Dortmund supporters—but much of it was a blur.
His first cup final experience had been very much like a certain kind of overwhelming event in life. Before it began, he had been filled with a churning cocktail of excitement, anxiety, and nervous anticipation. But once the whistle blew and the match kicked off, his mind had gone almost completely blank. No matter how composed he usually managed to be, in that moment, he had been utterly swept away by the flood of emotions and adrenaline.
It had been exhilarating, absolutely. But it had also been fleeting. Gone before he could fully grasp it. And woven through the satisfaction of having performed well was the sharp, bitter thread of regret.
Yes, Jin Hayes was referring strictly to his first experience participating in a cup final.
After all, he was not yet sixteen years old. There were no other experiences to compare it to.
Having just battled through the brutal Ruhr Derby against Schalke 04, and then facing the DFB-Pokal final a mere four days later, Borussia Dortmund's lack of squad depth had been ruthlessly, completely exposed. The players were running on fumes. Losing to a deep, experienced Bayern Munich side had felt almost inevitable, even as they fought to the very last second.
"Jin. Your phone."
A fair, slender arm extended into his field of vision, interrupting his tangled thoughts. Anna had appeared behind him without a sound, as she often did. She wore that familiar serene expression, but in the soft glow of the backyard lights, Jin could see complex emotions swimming in her blue eyes—emotions he wasn't yet equipped to decipher.
"Thank you," he said, taking the phone from her hand.
He glanced at the screen. The caller ID was unexpected: Coach Dick Fuhren.
He pressed the answer button and raised the phone to his ear. "Hello?"
"Jin," came Fuhren's familiar voice, direct as always. "I've just received word. The youth national team setup wants to invite you to participate in an upcoming training camp. I wanted to get your thoughts before anything moves forward."
Jin Hayes blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
"Eh?"