Maybe I can feed him the ball more often, De Bruyne thought to himself.
His own style didn't require constant possession; once he touched the ball, it was almost always a direct threat. To be truly effective, he needed someone who could dribble, someone who could hold the ball under pressure and tear through the opposition's structure to create gaps.
Not far away, Makoto Hasebe furrowed his brow, a flicker of regret crossing his mind. He should have taken the Chinese player more seriously. Previously, based on the boy's age and the online chatter, he had dismissed David Qin as a mere mascot—a marketing gimmick for Volkswagen's sales team. But after that assist, any trace of contempt had vanished.
"Twenty-five minutes left! We still have a chance, stay sharp!" Hasebe shouted. His leadership and mental fortitude were his greatest assets, making him an icon for young players in Japan. A one-goal deficit wasn't enough to shake him.
Tweet! The match resumed with Frankfurt kicking off.
The camera panned to the touchline, capturing Dieter Hecking's relaxed, almost pleased expression. He felt vindicated. David was clearly a player of immense potential; he simply lacked the stage to prove it. Of course, he wasn't perfect. His tendency to use intricate footwork sometimes bordered on the unnecessary, giving off an impression of over-dribbling. But Hecking could forgive that in a young player. As long as the boy's contributions outweighed his flaws, Hecking was satisfied. He knew no player was perfect; his job was to amplify their strengths and offer the right guidance at the right time.
On the pitch, Frankfurt abandoned their defensive shell, pushing their entire formation forward. To them, losing by one goal or two made no difference—it was zero points either way. They were prepared to gamble for a draw, or perhaps even a miraculous comeback.
In the 78th minute, Frankfurt made a move, bringing on Timothy Chandler for Lucas Piazon. The objective was clear: ramp up the intensity on the flanks and look for the target man. Hecking countered immediately, signaling Vieirinha to drop deeper. Since the Portuguese winger had started his career as a fullback, his defensive chops were more than up to the task.
Frankfurt's subsequent waves of attack broke against the Wolfsburg wall. With only five minutes of regulation time remaining, a desperate Frankfurt threw everything forward. A long ball from deep found Seferović, who outmuscled Knoche to head it down for Takashi Inui. Under pressure from Malanda, Inui's first touch failed him, the ball popping three meters away.
Hasebe was there in a flash, meeting the loose ball with a thunderous long-range strike. The Japanese captain's shot was powerful, but the distance allowed Max Grün enough time to track it and pluck it out of the air.
"Get back!" Hasebe barked, a sudden premonition of danger washing over him.
Before the words had even left his mouth, Grün threw the ball toward the front-left. The ball, spinning violently under the stadium lights, flew toward Wolfsburg's Number 13.
"That's a high throw!" Liu Jiayuan noted, his voice like a machine gun. "Hard to control with the foot or head, and Ignjovski is right there! How will David handle this?"
On the pitch, Ignjovski lunged forward like a pouncing tiger. He had already written the script in his head: he would intercept the ball during the kid's clumsy attempt to control it and launch a blistering counter-attack. With Wolfsburg currently transitioning from defense to attack, their lines were wide open. If he could reach the byline, a goal was almost certain. He had been the villain when David dribbled past him earlier; now, he would be the savior.
David Qin, oblivious to his opponent's internal monologue, stepped forward to meet the ball. Under the afternoon sun, he gave a light shrug of his shoulder, expertly bumping the ball toward the center of the pitch.
The crowd gasped in unison. Such an imaginative, flair-filled pass was a rare sight in a professional match. Ignjovski stood frozen, his jaw dropping. His dream of being the savior evaporated instantly; instead, he was once again the "poster boy" for David's brilliance.
"Pure magic!" Liu Jiayuan screamed. "David Qin uses his shoulder to find the advancing De Bruyne! De Bruyne takes a touch... and launches the long ball!"
Snap! A magnificent arc traced across the sky over the Volkswagen Arena. The ball bypassed Frankfurt's high line and dropped perfectly into the open space behind them.
Nicklas Bendtner!
Amidst the roars of the fans, Bendtner sprinted after the ball. For all his blind arrogance, "The Lord" did have talent—Wolfsburg wouldn't have signed him otherwise. He was once considered one of the three "wonderkid" strikers in Pro Evolution Soccer alongside Aguero and Benzema. Despite being 193cm, he wasn't slow—Wenger had used him as a winger at times. With De Bruyne's pass served on a silver platter, he didn't even have to worry about being caught.
Facing the charging Frankfurt keeper, Bendtner chose a confident chip... and then stood still in a stylized, arrogant pose.
CLANG!
To the absolute horror of the Wolfsburg supporters, the ball slammed into the crossbar and bounced directly into the arms of a bewildered Kevin Trapp.
"For God's sake, Bendtner!!!" Liu Jiayuan nearly swore on air. "He wasted a golden one-on-one! I have no idea what he was thinking! Is he trying to out-Balotelli Balotelli?"
The move had been a masterpiece up until the finish—David's audacious shoulder pass and De Bruyne's surgical long ball. It was all for nothing. Boos began to ring out from sections of the home crowd. Perhaps the old proverb was right: you get what you pay for. And Bendtner had arrived on a free transfer.
Bendtner himself looked like he wanted to vanish, but his embarrassment was cut short by a furious voice.
"What were you doing?!"
"There were ten better options in that situation!"
"That was irresponsible to the team and your teammates!"
De Bruyne's face was beet-red with rage. Bendtner bristled, snapping back, "I missed a chance, so what? Do you guarantee you score every one-on-one? Besides, we're leading! Even if I miss, we still win!"
Bendtner waved him off, his face darkening. He loathed being questioned.
Listening to Bendtner's excuses, David Qin felt his fists clench. If a player tries their best and misses, no one complains. But Bendtner had been reckless. If David had merely disliked him before, now he felt a genuine sense of revulsion. In a professional sport, you can be having a bad day, but you cannot be careless. You owe it to your teammates, the fans, and the coach.
De Bruyne looked ready to explode again but was held back by Malanda.
"Let me talk! Let me talk!" De Bruyne shouted, his English failing him in his fury.
David quickly rushed over to help de-escalate. Regardless of the internal friction, they were still in the middle of a match. Team drama had to wait until after the final whistle.