Volume One: Our Own League Chapter 38: Is Playing Football Really a Waste of Time?

The match on the field was still underway, both teams playing with fervor. Judging by their current performance, the gap in strength between the two sides didn’t seem significant; they traded attacks back and forth, with neither able to contain the other's offense. By the end of the first half, the score was tied at two apiece.

For Class Six’s team, Yang Hao had scored twice, while Class Fourteen’s side saw their number 9 striker, He Xiaoke, and their number 11 forward, Qin Tailong, each net a goal, with their captain, number 10, Xu Liuxian, providing both assists.

Up in the stands, Xu He listened as Zhu Ge spoke about Class Fourteen’s football team, learning the names of these three players. According to Zhu Ge’s information, these three from Class Fourteen had all attended the same primary school, practically growing up together and playing football as a trio for six or seven years. Their seamless cooperation was no surprise, given the deep rapport they’d nurtured over time.

Soon, the second half commenced, and both sides continued their relentless exchanges, attacking in turn, neither able to stop the other—only attack.

It was a thrilling match to watch.

On one side stood the epitome of individual heroism: a lone player relying on his exceptional skill to battle an entire team. On the other, a group forged by unity and collective will, facing off against Class Six with teamwork and shared strength.

The contest was truly fascinating, stirring Xu He’s blood as he watched.

These two styles were polar opposites, yet each brought out the best in its own way.

As the second half progressed, Yang Hao’s stamina began to flag, and his team gradually fell behind. Here, the advantage of teamwork became apparent; though the players of Class Fourteen had also spent much energy, they were in far better shape than Yang Hao. After all, the distance Yang Hao had to cover alone could be split among three or four of them, saving considerable energy. If not for Yang Hao’s remarkable endurance, his side might have collapsed far earlier.

Yang Hao was truly formidable.

No wonder so many people said he ranked among the top three in the school for individual ability. This was no empty flattery.

At this point, however, Yang Hao and his team found themselves in crisis. Though they’d taken the lead in the second half, in just three minutes Class Fourteen, through dazzling teamwork, scored twice to overturn the score—now leading four to three. The goals came from their number 10, Xu Liuxian, and their number 8 player.

Number 8 was unremarkable; even Zhu Ge, who had studied the team, didn’t know his name, nor did Xu He.

Looking at the now-leading Class Fourteen, and then at the panting, exhausted Yang Hao, Xu He sighed, “Do you see? This is the power of teamwork. No matter how strong an individual is, they can’t stand alone against a team. Teamwork is too important for us.”

Zhang Zhen had no counterargument, simply nodding in agreement.

Indeed, this match had fully demonstrated the strength and advantage of teamwork, making its importance clear to them.

Xu He continued, “When we go back, we’ll have to strengthen our sense of teamwork as well.”

Zhu Ge nodded, “Yes, we must emphasize team spirit. Only by putting the team’s interests first can we be a qualified side, and only then will we have the right to compete for victory.”

Nearby, the silver-haired old man’s eyes lit up with understanding. He hadn’t expected these young students to grasp the value of teamwork from a football match, nor to take it so seriously.

Clearly, football was far more than just a pastime.

Just then, Yang Xin remarked, “Class Six’s team is done for. I thought they’d qualify for the next round, but I must have overestimated them!”

The others agreed with Yang Xin, nodding.

Xu He frowned slightly, then said, “I don’t see it that way. Just watch.”

The group glanced at Xu He, then turned their eyes back to the pitch. Even the old man sitting behind Xu He perked up, studying the match below.

After a while, Yang Xin said, “I don’t see anything changing. Yang Hao is spent; he can barely run. Without him, Class Six has nothing—they’re bound to lose.”

The rest nodded in agreement.

Xu He replied mildly, “Don’t underestimate the resolve of one person.”

The group was puzzled, unsure what Xu He meant, but the old man behind him seemed to ponder deeply, his gaze fixed on Yang Hao.

Xu He continued, “Yes, Yang Hao is clearly exhausted, barely able to run. But is he truly unable to keep going? We’ve played against him; you all know his fitness. He’s tired, but not to this extent.”

Zhu Ge and the others’ eyes widened, as if grasping Xu He’s meaning.

The handsome Lin Xuefeng immediately said, “You mean Yang Hao hasn’t given up? He’s conserving his strength, regaining energy for a final desperate counterattack?”

Hearing this, everyone understood.

“That’s what I think,” Xu He replied.

Yang Xin, unconvinced, retorted, “And what makes you think so?”

“Because I know Yang Hao’s character. He would never give up. Think back to when we played against him—how did he react when behind? Even when the odds were hopeless, even when his body failed him, he never stopped attacking… Do you think someone like that would give up? His tenacity exceeds your imagination!”

Even Xu He, after saying this, found himself impressed by his own words. He hadn’t realized he’d use the word “tenacity”—and was rather proud of himself afterward.

The group fell silent, reflecting on Xu He’s words. Yang Hao’s relentless spirit appeared in their minds; the idea that he’d surrender mid-match was unthinkable.

Yang Xin’s expression soured—he knew he’d lost this debate.

The silver-haired old man’s gaze lingered on the exhausted yet unyielding figure on the field. In his clouded eyes, a glimmer of light appeared.

“To keep fighting in the face of despair, to show such courage, resilience, and refusal to yield—how admirable,” he murmured.

Who would expect such qualities from a boy barely in his teens? Was this what football had given him?

The old man pondered.

Though his heart had been won over, Yang Xin stubbornly insisted, “I still don’t believe Class Six can win. They’re bound to lose.”

Inwardly, he cheered for Class Fourteen, hoping they wouldn’t let him down.

On the field, seeing Class Six faltering and Yang Hao apparently spent and giving up, Class Fourteen showed no complacency. They remained vigilant, playing with focus, even seeking to widen the lead.

The silver-haired old man’s eyes brightened again. “Victory doesn’t breed arrogance, nor defeat despair! Excellent!”

Indeed, there was not a trace of pride or carelessness in Class Fourteen’s play; they continued to give their all, completing the match with seriousness and dedication.

They performed brilliantly, and in the seventy-sixth minute, they nearly broke through the opposing goal again. The three forwards combined beautifully. Number 10, Xu Liuxian, sent a through ball behind the defense. Number 9, He Xiaoke, timed his run perfectly, reaching the byline before cutting it back, and number 11, Qin Tailong, charged in unmarked and struck from the penalty spot.

It was a perfect play, but Class Six’s goalkeeper, Wang Yi, made a miraculous save, keeping his team in the match.

Seeing this, everyone felt that Class Six had no chance left. Even though Yang Hao hadn’t given up and kept fighting, one man alone could not overcome four—defeat seemed certain.

Yang Xin, delighted, cast a smug glance at Xu He.

Xu He could only force a bitter smile.

But the old man behind Xu He suddenly spoke: “Even if Yang Hao loses in the end, he deserves our respect. To never give up in the face of adversity is rare indeed. And the opposing team has shown great composure in victory, never becoming arrogant. Both teams exemplify the virtues of humility in victory and courage in defeat—very impressive!”

Xu He and the others turned to see, for the first time, the silver-haired old man sitting behind them. They were surprised that their league had attracted fans of such advanced age.

Nonetheless, respectful as always, they greeted him politely.

The old man smiled kindly and asked, “You’re a football team yourselves, aren’t you? Are you part of this league?”

Xu He and the others were about to reply when suddenly Li Jie roared, “Look!”

A miracle equalizer!

That unyielding Yang Hao summoned the last ounce of strength in his body at the final moment. The energy he had quietly conserved exploded forth; he broke through three defenders in succession, then, stumbling, slipped past Class Fourteen’s goalkeeper and, just before falling, gently poked the ball into the net.

Stunned silence gripped the stadium.

Xu He and his friends all rose to their feet, shocked to the core as they looked at Yang Hao, collapsed in front of Class Fourteen’s goal, overwhelmed by what they had just witnessed.

Yang Xin’s mouth hung open, his voice barely a whisper: “Impossible… impossible…”

The silver-haired old man’s once-clouded eyes shone brilliantly as he exclaimed, “To fight back from the brink like this—this is more than mere tenacity! Outstanding!”

The old man was moved to applause.

Four to four—Yang Hao had equalized at the last possible moment.

All of Class Six’s players rushed to Yang Hao, piling onto their hero, celebrating like a group of three-year-old children.

Xu He and his friends were deeply moved, their hearts brimming with joy.

But just then, Li Liying brought terrible news—news so dire that all the league’s participants were struck pale with despair.