The God of Football Starts With Passive Skills-Chapter 152 - 52: Mid-season Champions! A Blunder with the Golden Boy Award? Tell Me, Is There Anything He Can’t Do?

Chapter 152: Chapter 52: Mid-season Champions! A Blunder with the Golden Boy Award? Tell Me, Is There Anything He Can’t Do?

"Even though he’s only 18, I believe nothing can stop him from continuing to grow and improve!"

When the news reached home, the entire internet erupted, even though it was the middle of the night.

The domestic media had been following the story closely ever since Wang Shuo made the 40-man shortlist for the European Golden Boy Award in October.

As Wang Shuo’s performances grew more and more outstanding and Mainz held a firm grip on first place, an increasing number of people began to wonder: could Wang Shuo make history?

Now, the answer was in!

Wang Shuo had won it!

...

DEE-DEE-DEE...

Gao Huairen’s snoring was cut short by the sound of a classic Nokia ringtone.

Utterly exhausted, he stuck a hand out from under his warm covers, fumbled for the phone on his nightstand, and pressed the answer button without even opening his eyes.

"Fatty Liu, I already told you, I’m broke right now. You can call and wake me up in the middle of the night every single day, but I still won’t have any money."

"Or how about this? See if anyone’s buying human flesh. You can chop me up and sell me for parts."

"Or get someone to appraise me, see what I’m worth. I’m good with whatever. Alright?"

With that, he hung up and buried his head back under the covers to sleep.

But a moment later, the phone rang again.

This time, Gao Huairen pried his bleary eyes open, his vision still a blur, and answered the call.

"What now? Are you ever going to stop?"

"Coach Gao, it’s me, Jiang Pengju. I’m not calling about a debt."

"Xiao Jiang?"

Gao Huairen was a little surprised. He quickly brought the Nokia closer, squinting to get a better look at the screen.

It was really him.

"Have the debt collectors been showing up at your door again?" Jiang Pengju asked from the other end of the line, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

When it came to Gao Huairen, he was truly poor.

Ever since the day he founded the Huairun Football School, he hadn’t had a moment of peace.

He was either dealing with debt collectors or on his way to deal with debt collectors.

But after so many years of scraping by and borrowing from Peter to pay Paul, hadn’t he always managed to pull through?

In the eyes of many, Coach Gao was completely shameless.

Despite being so heavily criticized, he still had the gall to appear on television and in newspapers, making paid appearances at various events.

’He’s gone mad for money!’

But in the eyes of those who knew the real story, Coach Gao’s situation was truly tragic.

He’d had countless easier ways to make money. Countless times, the money had been placed right in front of him, but he had stubbornly refused to take it.

He had single-handedly pushed himself into this desperate situation.

Some called him stupid. Others cursed him for being self-righteous. Still others accused him of being a hypocrite.

Of course, there were also those who respected him.

Jiang Pengju was one of the latter.

"So what’s the big project this time?" Jiang Pengju asked, fishing for details.

Gao Huairen gave a wry laugh. "Over the past six months or so, we’ve had a lot of players recommended to us, and many teams want to partner with us. There’s just so much to do."

"But you know how it is. The school’s dorms are in terrible shape, and there isn’t enough space. So, I thought, why not try to scrape something together and build a new dormitory to improve the players’ living conditions?"

Jiang Pengju burst out laughing on the other end of the line.

He’d already guessed it.

That was just like Gao Huairen. He either did nothing at all, or he went all in, giving his players the absolute best.

He might seem like a penny-pincher—he was still driving that old Volkswagen Bora—but when it came to football and his players, he’d always been incredibly generous.

It went without saying: he must have begged everyone he knew, roped in a contractor, scrounged up the building materials, and got the dormitory built, only to find himself with no money to pay for it, forcing him to stall.

’How many times has this happened now?’

Sometimes, when the companies absolutely couldn’t get their money, they’d just drag him to an event to make an appearance, billing him as the former head coach of the national team.

And the result, needless to say, was another round of public criticism.

As Jiang Pengju laughed, his heart suddenly grew heavy.

He himself had been selected for a national team training camp back when Gao Huairen was the coach.

’As for whether there was any foul play in the player selection, did he not know the truth?’

Although he never ended up playing an official match for the national team, he knew what went on behind the scenes.

But there were many things he couldn’t talk about.

If he did, there would be no turning back.

"By the way, why did you call me so late?" Gao Huairen suddenly remembered to ask.

He wasn’t sure why, but he’d been feeling drowsy all the time lately. His blood pressure was also constantly fluctuating, never stable.

The doctor said such symptoms were common for someone his age, especially with his high blood pressure.

"Right, here’s the thing. I just got word—Wang Shuo won the European Golden Boy Award!"

"What? He won?"

Gao Huairen shot upright in bed.

"For real?"

"Absolutely. The news is already out in Germany."

"Why didn’t you say so sooner?"

"I..." Jiang Pengju felt wronged. ’I was trying to, but you didn’t give me a chance!’

Gao Huairen, on the other end, paid him no mind, completely dumbfounded by the sudden, wonderful news.

He just bellowed into the phone, "That kid did it! He’s made us all proud!"

All thoughts of sleep had vanished.

...

Wang Shuo never expected that his first photo after winning the European Golden Boy Award would be so difficult to take.

Accompanied by Strutz, Heidel, and Klopp, he met Massimo Frankie, the editor-in-chief of Torino Sports Daily, who had made a special trip just to see him.

The square-faced, middle-aged Italian had also brought along a translator fluent in German and a photographer from the paper.

The purpose of their trip was simple: to deliver an official invitation.

They were inviting Wang Shuo to Turin to accept the award.

They also needed to take a photo of him holding the Golden Boy Award trophy.

Torino Sports Daily would feature the photo in their newspaper and on their website, as well as forward it to all their media partners around the world.