After Paris Saint-Germain was removed from the list, I led England to victory!

After yesterday's dinner, the players resumed their intensive training today.

With less than forty hours to go before the next away league match against Eintracht Frankfurt, a familiar, tense yet exciting atmosphere permeated the Hoffenheim training ground, like an arrow about to be released from a bow.

Yan Yuan had just finished a fairly intense on-field tactical training session, and his soaked training clothes clung to his still somewhat thin back.

He was unscrewing the cap of a sports drink, his rapidly beating heart not yet fully calmed, when assistant coach Cramer walked over:

"Yan, the boss wants you to go to his office."

A hint of doubt flashed through Yan Yuan's mind.

The head coach summoned me privately right after training session ended?

In this situation, there's probably no good news. He was previously removed from the Paris Saint-Germain squad right after a training session.

He pulled off the towel hanging around his neck to wipe his sweat, and without daring to delay, he strode upstairs to the head coach's office.

The PVC flooring seemed more bouncy than usual, but for some reason, I felt particularly tense taking those few steps today.

Pushing open the heavy office door, the cold air rushed in, causing my sweaty skin to break out in a layer of tiny goosebumps.

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting stripes of light and shadow on the table, falling onto the neatly stacked tactical data and analysis reports.

My mentor wasn't sitting behind his desk, but standing in front of the huge screen, intently watching the clips of Frankfurt's recent matches. Next to him, the white tactical board was covered with magnetic markers.

"Coach, you wanted to see me?" Yan Yuan stopped at the door.

Nagelsmann turned around at the sound, still holding a few marking stickers in his hand.

His gaze fell on Yan Yuan, less sharp than it was on the training field, and more scrutinizing and considering.

"You're here? Please have a seat." He gestured to the sofa next to him.

Yan Yuan sat down as instructed, his body instinctively straightening. He could feel the coach's gaze sweeping over his slightly heaving chest and his sweat-drenched shoulders.

"Just finished training today, how did it go?" Nagelsmann moved closer, picking up a report from the table.

Before Yan Yuan could answer, Na Shuai continued.

"Your overall condition looks good, and the data feedback is also very good." Nagelsmann was referring to the various physical indicators collected during training, including heart rate, running distance, number of sprints, etc. The data is indeed impressive.

Yan Yuan nodded: "The training went very well, Coach. I even scored several goals in today's scrimmage."

Nagelsmann frowned slightly, his finger unconsciously tapping on the cover of the report. His gaze returned to Yan Yuan's face, his eyes like those of a surgeon assessing a delicate component.

The air in the office seemed to freeze for a few seconds.

"It's like this, Yan, in two days, the away game against Frankfurt," Nagelsmann finally spoke, his voice low but each word clear.

"This match... is quite intense, and in the last few matches in a row, especially the last one where he played the entire game..." He paused, carefully choosing his words, thinking about how to make his beloved student accept his advice.

"Your performance on the field is impeccable, fantastic. Your ball handling surpasses most of your peers, even many experienced players. Your ability to read the game is your bread and butter, I have complete confidence in you, but..."

He looked into Yan Yuan's eyes again and said.

"But you're only seventeen." These words hit me like a heavy stone.

"Yan, the bones, tendons, and heart of a seventeen-year-old need time to recover from the high-frequency, high-intensity competition on the professional field."

There's a saying that goes, "Even the best steel will crack if it's continuously hammered and not properly tempered."

The atmosphere in the office quieted down. Nagelsmann took a breath, as if he had made up his mind.

"So, for this away game against Frankfurt, my decision is that you will be rested and not included in the squad."

[Rest in shifts]

The two words clearly penetrated Yan Yuan's ears.

For a fleeting moment, almost instinctively, a tiny sense of loss and resentment welled up in Yan Yuan's heart.

He is a player, and players crave to play, crave to fight, especially in such an important away game.

He's been in great form lately, and the way he controls the tempo and creates scoring opportunities on the court is captivating.

But the moment this tiny emotion began to surface, it was suppressed by a powerful force of reason.

Actually, this wasn't the first time the coach had told him to take a break; the system had already told him a couple of days ago.

Last night before falling asleep, the system-generated "Injury Warning" appeared clearly, with the following large text stating:

[Host Yan Yuan, residual fatigue level of right knee joint complex tissue: 61%, moderately high (estimated recovery time 24 to 48 hours)]

He himself could feel it; his knees would occasionally feel tightness and a persistent, not obvious, soreness, especially when he pushed off the ground or changed direction.

This physical sensation report and the coach's decision at that moment corresponded perfectly in Yan Yuan's mind.

He didn't pause, nor did he let that momentary instinctive disappointment linger for long; his face had already regained its usual calm and focus.

"I understand, Coach. I'll follow your instructions."

Yan Yuan's voice was clear and steady, without a trace of reluctance or grievance, and his eyes met his mentor's scrutinizing gaze with composure.

Nagelsmann seemed surprised that his protégé agreed so readily and "clearly." He had even prepared a speech to persuade Yan Yuan to get some rest.

Well, it seems the prepared speech won't be needed.

Nasser's eyes lingered on Yan Yuan's face for two seconds before he finally nodded in satisfaction.

"Good, I'm glad you understand." His tone softened noticeably.

"This isn't punishment, it's protection for you, it's adding an insurance layer for 'Hoffenheim's future'," he continued.

"I know you have a habit of recording matches." He glanced at the thick, worn notebook that Yan Yuan was holding.

Yan Yuan subconsciously touched the black leather cover of the notebook.

"So, your new task has arrived." Nagelsmann leaned forward.

"You don't need to travel with the team to Frankfurt this time, but you need to do your off-field work. After the team departs, you'll do recovery training with the physiotherapist. I'll discuss the intensity with them; it's mainly about recovery and maintaining your form, and then..."

His fingers tapped on the table, making a soft, rhythmic sound.

"You have to watch this game, watch it carefully, just like you always do. You have to watch Frankfurt's midfield strangulation, the way their two wing-backs make runs under high pressure, the coordination of their defense during overall pressing and quick retreats... especially,"

He emphasized, "What specific strategies and details did they use to specifically target and break down a technically gifted midfielder like Amiri? And what were our problems when our attacks were thwarted?"

For a fleeting moment, Nagelsmann genuinely felt like he was assigning a task to a teaching assistant.

Write down everything you see and think in your notebook, and use your brain to analyze it, just like you would analyze an opponent's formation.

"Just like last time you watched Liverpool's game, you weren't just a player, you were a pure analyst." Nagelsmann smiled.

"When we get back, I'll check your notes, just like a teacher checks homework. I'll also ask you questions, so don't let me down, Yan."

After he finished speaking, there was a brief silence.

Nagelsmann awaited the possibility of his protégé's disappointment or slight resentment, after all, he was at an age where he was in top form and eager to achieve success.

"Understood, Coach," Yan Yuan replied, his voice clear and steady, devoid of any disappointment or frustration, only pure acceptance and seriousness.

"Your consideration is very thoughtful, and I have no objection. I know my body needs to recover, and I will do my best in both recovery and analyzing the match."

He spoke succinctly, but his focus and understanding greatly pleased Nagelsmann.

"Very good," Na Shuai said, much more relaxed. He stood up, walked over, patted Yan Yuan's shoulder forcefully, and said...

"Good boy, go and relax properly, and also 'work with your brain'. This rest is not a stop, but a way to run in a different way."

Looking at the seventeen-year-old boy before him, whose thinking far surpassed his age, Nagelsmann's thought became even clearer:

This is not only a golden winger who can revitalize the frontcourt, but also a rough gem of tactical thinking that has not yet fully revealed its brilliance. Letting him stop now is so that he can run further and think more deeply in the future.

Nagelsmann certainly knows how to use young people.

"Alright, that's all. Go and recover properly." Nash waved his hand, then turned his gaze back to the Frankfurt formation on the tactics board.

Yan Yuan stood up, nodded solemnly, and turned to leave the office.

The air conditioning in the corridor remained cold, but Yan Yuan felt that the slight emptiness in his chest caused by the news of the shift change had long been filled with a heavy sense of mission and trust.

This feeling is really wonderful for a player.

So, as the rest of the team began to prepare more intensely for the away game, Yan Yuan's pace suddenly slowed down.

He didn't immediately tell his teammates his plan, but continued to stretch and apply ice as instructed by the team doctor.

In the physiotherapy room of the training base, the masseur's gentle yet strong fingers precisely kneaded the muscles of his thighs and calves, loosening the deep fascia.

When Yan Yuan pressed his fingers near the patellar tendon in his right knee, the slight soreness clearly told him that the coach's decision was correct, and the system's prompt was even more correct.

He closed his eyes, feeling the discomfort gradually dissipate under the professional technique, and felt very calm.

The team doctor also came back to examine the patient again, and the results were highly consistent with Nagelsmann's assessment and the system's suggestions:

There are no structural problems; it's just soft tissue fatigue from high-intensity, continuous matches, and rest is needed.

The teammates gradually learned the news.

Gnabry, somewhat surprised, ran over and asked, "Really?? Yan, you're not going to play next game? Our attack will be missing a sharp weapon without you!"

Gnabry's tone was sincere; Yan Yuan is indeed one of the team's sharpest weapons now.

Ute said to Gnabry, "Hey! Sergi, Yan's only 17, he really needs a break!"

As captain, Vogt was more practical and cared more about his teammates: "The coach's decision is right. Yan, you're too young. Playing at such a high intensity continuously can easily cause problems. It's good to take a break and conserve your energy."

We'll want to hear your post-match analysis when we get back.

He was clearly aware of Yan Yuan's habits.

Amiri didn't say anything, but gave Yan Yuan a knowing look and an encouraging fist bump.

The care and concern shown to Xiao Yan warmed his heart, and now he just wants to recover as soon as possible.