Chapter Nine: Imagination

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Although Harald Cerny didn't perform particularly well, he was still a veteran with many contributions. The Allianz Arena echoed with a coordinated round of applause. Shao Jiayi was positioned as a center-back this time, but Mo Mo vaguely recalled that his strengths seemed better suited to full-back. Yet none of that mattered now—the important thing was that this was Shao Jiayi's debut.

"The long-awaited moment has finally arrived. For the first time ever, there are two Chinese players on the pitch in the Bundesliga! Remember this date: August 15, 2002."

Cerny looked as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. After all, the three goals conceded—all three—had something to do with him. He was simply too impatient; being a center-back didn't suit him. He should have been a central midfielder instead.

"Hey, Shao, do you still want to sit on the bench?" Mo Mo leaned in at just the right moment and asked Shao Jiayi softly. Ambition blazed in Shao Jiayi's eyes.

"What are you thinking? If you can be a starter, why can't I?"

Mo Mo and Shao Jiayi exchanged a smile. At that moment, Shao Jiayi walked over to Simon Jentzsch, as if wanting to say something, and then had Mo Mo relay the message:

"Shao says, 'Don't worry! He'll stand guard for your first shift.'"

The three of them smiled at each other, their heights forming a natural staircase.

"The match continues. We can clearly see that Munich 1860's defense has become much more solid. Shao Jiayi isn't rashly pressing forward but is instead filling in the gaps. Whenever a teammate steps up, he drops back to keep the backline stable."

Munich 1860's head coach, Peter Pacult, was quite satisfied with Shao Jiayi's performance, and he noticed something new: Shao Jiayi seemed quite fast!

"That was a tackle from Shao Jiayi. The Munich 1860 defense now has real depth, giving Rostock's players plenty of headaches."

Worbek shook his head in mild frustration. This yellow-skinned, black-haired guy was surprisingly quick. When Worbek broke through the first line of defense, Shao Jiayi would surge forward and clear the ball without any intention of controlling it.

At this point, Shao Jiayi was less of a center-back and more of a sweeper, booting away any threatening balls and patching up holes in the opponent's attack.

The sweeper role actually fit Munich 1860's situation. The sweeper's job was to reinforce the defense, playing behind the back line and focusing solely on defense, filling gaps and clearing anything that came near the goal.

It’s worth noting, though, that the sweeper role has all but vanished in modern football, due to its monotony and inability to meet the demands of multi-positional players, and has gradually faded from fans' memories.

With the defensive problems solved, it was time to address the attack. Coach Pacult's eyes hinted at contemplation. In his current 4-1-2-1-2 formation, the two players between the defensive and attacking midfielders were supposed to control the midfield—but so far, they’d been as good as invisible.

Would converting them to wide midfielders be a better solution? Why was Munich 1860 being overwhelmed? Why were they toothless up front? The main issue lay on the flanks.

Munich 1860 only had two full-backs out wide, and they were pinned back deep in their own half. Rostock's 4-4-1-1 held the advantage on the wings, repeatedly attacking down the flanks and delivering crosses.

It wasn't that Pacult didn't want to field wide midfielders, but the demands for speed, explosiveness, and stamina were simply too high.

Munich 1860 didn't have suitable players—or at least, not anyone who could excel in those roles. Imagine this: with not-yet-seventeen-year-old Mo Mo and twenty-two-year-old Shao Jiayi, the team’s average age was still around twenty-eight! A truly alarming statistic.

"The match has reached the sixty-eighth minute, and Mo Mo seems to be running out of steam," Chen Nu's voice carried a hint of doubt. But when had he ever seen Mo Mo run tirelessly for a full ninety minutes? In the World Cup, he was mostly a substitute; in the second division, he was usually just finding space and waiting for the ball.

But this was the Bundesliga! The pace and intensity were a step up from the second division. Most importantly, Mo Mo was constantly predicting where the ball would land, and since the ball was always moving, he had to keep adjusting his positioning.

Coach Pacult had noticed as much. He watched Mo Mo bending over, gasping for breath, and now there was hardly anyone marking him closely.

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Look at this guy—he’s worn himself out like a dead dog, and no one can figure out what he’s running for. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow; sometimes just shuffling a couple of steps sideways, sometimes sprinting like a madman. He looks like a lunatic!

Well, the thoughts of a genius are beyond the grasp of ordinary people. Geniuses always see what others cannot.

Mo Mo wasn’t sure if he could be called a genius, but he had noticed a certain pattern. He wasn’t standing where he was by chance; he had positioned himself at the spots where Martin Max and Thomas Hassler most frequently delivered their passes.

Perhaps in normal play, the passes would be more random, but under Rostock’s organized pressure, Max and Hassler were forced to play the ball to the same few spots. Their passing patterns inevitably became repetitive.

"Mo Mo is gasping for breath—looks like he can’t go on. Yet Munich 1860’s coach Pacult doesn’t seem ready to make a substitution! Rostock’s players are slowly closing in on Mo Mo to mark him—wait, what’s this? A long ball from Thomas Hassler! Mo Mo?!"

Coach Pacult found it strange. In regular training, Mo Mo’s stamina was nothing special. Yet here, after only sixty-eight minutes, he was spent? Pacult didn’t buy it. Normally, Mo Mo could last till the seventy-ninth minute; if he really pushed it, he could complete the full match.

Just as Pacult was pondering, something on the pitch caught his eye.

A perfect arc carried the ball toward Mo Mo, and the Rostock defender, who had been strolling behind him, suddenly accelerated to intercept.

It would have been difficult for Mo Mo to bring the ball down, but did he need to? No! He didn’t! In fact, this ball was just what he needed.

As the Rostock player closed in, Mo Mo leapt and headed the ball high into the air—so high the defender couldn’t reach it even with an outstretched arm. But that was exactly what Mo Mo wanted.

A clear plan formed in his mind as he darted past the dazed Rostock defender, racing toward the ball’s landing spot—the penalty area.

"Mo Mo’s header! He’s charging into the box! Rostock’s goalkeeper abandons his line, leaping to claim the ball—his fingertips brush it, but he can’t secure it!"

All around, Munich 1860’s fans erupted in wild shouts. Unbelievable!

"Though he didn’t get the ball, the touch changed its trajectory. If nothing else happens, the ball will go out near the sideline—wait! Mo Mo?!"

Only now did everyone notice Mo Mo’s figure, sprinting at full tilt. Alarms blared in his mind—overspeeding? Who cares! All he knew was that he had to reach that ball.

Coach Pacult stood up, eyes wide, arms folded across his chest, ready to cheer for Mo Mo at any moment.

Blue ribbons and confetti whirled through the air—the fans could no longer contain themselves.

Rostock’s coach chewed gum furiously, venting his stress. This Mo Mo! Damn him!

Yet at that moment, Mo Mo felt something snap—or maybe not snap, but strain. Whatever it was, his leg suddenly went weak. Was it over? No, not yet!

Mo Mo looked up at the nearby ball, gritted his teeth, and threw himself to his knees, sliding forward. Ever since his first failed goal celebration slide, he’d practiced this move—hopefully it would pay off!

Boom! The entire Allianz Arena erupted as if a bomb had gone off.

"Goal! The ball is in! Mo Mo! Mo Mo scores his second of the match!"

Chen Nu’s voice was electric. Coach Pacult pumped his fist in excitement. There was still time! There was still hope!

"But Mo Mo hasn’t gotten up—he looks to be in pain."

Now, not just Chen Nu but everyone had noticed.

Mo Mo had slid in suddenly, carrying the ball into the net, but he didn’t get up, ending up sprawled on the ground. Injured?

Pacult’s face was a mix of emotions: not sure how to react. Yes, they’d scored, but their key player—Mo Mo—was injured!

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"The team doctor for Munich 1860 comes on to assess the situation, signaling to Coach Pacult that a substitution is needed. The stretcher is brought out, and Mo Mo is carefully placed on it."

The Munich 1860 fans, who had been cheering moments before, now looked worried. Then, someone began to applaud, and gradually, more and more joined in.

"Once a Blue, always a Blue!"

Some shouted, and soon the whole stadium echoed with it.

Coach Pacult’s expression darkened as he approached the team doctor.

"How is it?"

The doctor looked up, his face not overly anxious, which gave Pacult some relief.

"It’s nothing serious—just a muscle strain from overexertion."

Before Pacult could reply, Mo Mo was already asking,

"Doctor, when can I play again?"

The doctor glanced at Pacult, who nodded for him to answer.

"It’s just a strain from pushing yourself too hard, but that final slide probably made it worse."

At this, Mo Mo’s heart sank, and even Pacult’s expression clouded. Damn it! He would have given up the goal to avoid this.

"But it’s not a big deal—at most three weeks out, missing two matches."

Pacult frowned. The upcoming fixtures: August 17, away to Hannover 96; August 24, at home against Bremen; and then on September 10, the Munich derby against Bayern.

While Pacult was still thinking, Mo Mo asked,

"Coach, if I’m fit again, will I still be in the starting lineup?"

Pacult looked at Mo Mo, frowning. Against Bayern? After such a layoff, would Mo Mo be ready to start? Hard to say.

Mo Mo understood and settled for less.

"That’s all right, Coach. I’ll be happy just to be on the bench."

To play, he’d have to make the matchday squad of eighteen. If he couldn’t even do that, how could he hope to play? Pacult agreed, still rating Mo Mo’s poaching instincts and composure in front of goal—not to mention his creativity (or imagination).

In the remainder of the match, neither side scored again. In the end, at Munich 1860’s home ground, Rostock took all three points with a 3-2 away win. Just two days later, Munich 1860 would travel to the AWD Arena to face Hannover 96.

It’s worth noting that in the first round of Bundesliga matches, newly promoted Bielefeld topped the table with a three-goal lead.