Football: Start with the Kaka template, dominate the football field!

When the final whistle blew, the entire Westfalen Stadium transformed into a sea of ​​yellow and black jubilation.

Before Qin Feng could even catch his breath, his excited teammates lifted him high and tossed him into the air again and again.

The feeling of weightlessness, accompanied by the cheers of 80,000 people, made him feel a dizzying sense of unreality.

He saw the huge "yellow wall" in the south stand going crazy for him, saw Klopp's face on the sidelines smiling like a child, and saw the back of number 10 silently walking towards the players' tunnel not far away.

……

Inside the Dortmund locker room, the atmosphere was as enthusiastic as if they had just won the championship.

Beer foam splattered everywhere, and the players, shirtless, roared and sang their team song, expressing their joy at victory.

"Qin! You're a fucking genius!"

"Grand Cross" Grosskreutz took a bottle of beer and poured it directly over Qin Feng's head. The cold liquid flowed down his hair, but it made him feel incredibly refreshed.

"Homage to our new lightning!"

Captain Kyle also raised a bottle. He rarely lost his composure like this in the locker room, but today, he was genuinely happy for the young man.

Qin Feng smiled and clinked glasses and hugged each of his teammates.

This victory, this goal, this assist—all of these have made him a true part of the team.

In the corner, Mkhitaryan sat quietly in his seat, having already changed his clothes, standing out from the surrounding revelry.

He looked at Qin Feng, who was surrounded by his teammates in the center, with a complicated expression.

As a professional player, he was naturally happy for the team's victory.

But as a core player burdened with the aura of being the "highest signing in team history" and on whom high hopes were placed, he watched helplessly as a "plus-size" player, whose value was only one-fifth of his own, solved a problem in 30 minutes that he couldn't solve in 60 minutes...

That feeling was very unpleasant.

……

Meanwhile, in Madrid, Spain.

Inside the assistant coach's office of Real Madrid's first team at the Valdebebas training ground.

Zidane had just finished a day of training. Holding a cup of coffee, he habitually turned on his computer and browsed the match reports of major European leagues.

When he clicked on the Bundesliga highlights, a familiar name made his hand, holding the coffee cup, pause in mid-air.

Borussia Dortmund 3:1 Werder Bremen.

Goal scorer: ...Qin Feng (1 goal, 1 assist).

Zidane's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

He clicked on the match highlights.

In the video, the familiar yellow-skinned boy receives the ball in the center circle, and then, like a bolt of lightning tearing through the night sky, rushes towards the opponent's goal.

A long-distance raid, a one-on-one attack that broke through the defense.

The entire process was filled with breathtaking beauty and violence.

Zidane's pupils contracted slightly.

The boy in the video was completely different from the one he had met in the office a month ago.

That explosive power, that coordination while running, that terrifyingly stable body posture...

This is definitely not a move that someone with "glass bones" could make!

He turned off the highlights and immediately pulled up Qin Feng's medical examination report from Borussia Dortmund—a report that had already circulated in the scouting systems of major European clubs.

"Perfect!"

The word in the conclusion now seems like a silent mockery.

Zidane leaned back in his chair and remained silent for a long time.

He recalled the look in the boy's eyes when he calmly told him, "I will stay in Europe," that day.

It turns out that it wasn't just youthful recklessness or a fit of pique.

Rather, it is a declaration stemming from absolute self-confidence.

"Were we... really wrong?"

For the first time, he began to waver slightly over the authoritative report from the club's medical team and over the judgment he had made based on that report.

……

The storm surrounding this match swept through the entire German football media with even greater speed than when Qin Feng made his run.

The following day, Germany's most authoritative football magazine, Kicker, devoted an entire page to analyzing the match.

The title is concise and to the point: "Lightning vs. Top Scorer: Klopp's Sweet Dilemma".

The article provides a comprehensive comparison of Qin Feng's and Mkhitaryan's technical characteristics and data performance.

The conclusion is clear: Mkhitaryan is more technically versatile and better at positional warfare; while Qin Feng was born for Klopp's "Gegenpressing," and his impact is Dortmund's most scarce weapon at present.

"Should the player who was acquired for 2750 million really be relegated to a replacement player who was discarded for 500 million?"

This pointed question was thrown to all Borussia Dortmund fans, instantly igniting a frenzy on various fan forums.

Those who support Mkhitaryan believe that he still needs time to adapt and should not be judged based on just one match.

Those who support Qin Feng are even more direct: whoever is in the best form should play! In the world of football, being bad is the original sin!

The debate intensified.

This fire even spread to within the team itself.

During Tuesday's team training session, Klopp arranged a small-scale offensive and defensive drill.

Qin Feng and Mkhitaryan were placed in different groups to directly confront each other.

During one attack, Qin Feng received the ball in midfield, and Mkhitaryan immediately pressed forward.

Qin Feng did not choose to confront the opponent head-on, but instead used a clever pull-back and turn to try to get rid of them.

Mkhitaryan reacted quickly, immediately extending his foot to intercept.

The two engaged in a purely technical contest within a confined space.

Ultimately, Qin Feng, with his faster footwork and explosive power, poked the ball away half a step ahead and completed the breakthrough.

"NICE! Qin!" His teammates on the sidelines couldn't help but cheer.

A hint of resentment flashed across Mkhitaryan's face.

He knew that in terms of pure explosives ability, he was indeed inferior to this young man who was six years younger than him.

Klopp watched all of this from the sidelines. He didn't say anything, but just stroked his stubble and his eyes became even more profound.

……

A week later, the third round of the Bundesliga.

Borussia Dortmund will play away against Eintracht Frankfurt.

The atmosphere in the locker room was somewhat delicate during the final tactical meeting before the game.

All eyes were drawn to Klopp, waiting for him to announce the choice for the most crucial position.

Klopp is holding a tactics board and analyzing the opponent.

"...Frankfurt's defense is very strong, and their home ground is difficult to play against. We need to dominate in midfield..."

He paused, and everyone held their breath.

"...Attacking midfielder, Henrikh Mkhitaryan."

The dust has settled.

Mkhitaryan visibly relaxed, stood up, nodded vigorously to his teammates, and his fighting spirit rekindled in his eyes.

Beside Qin Feng, several barely perceptible sighs could be heard.

Qin Feng himself, however, showed no reaction. He simply sat there quietly, as if the decision had nothing to do with him.

After the meeting, as the players were preparing to go out to warm up, Klopp called him back.

"Qin, please stay for a moment."

Only the two of them remained in the locker room.

"Disappointed?" Klopp asked.

"A little," Qin Feng readily admitted.

"That's right," Klopp laughed. "I'll only be disappointed in you if you're not disappointed."

"Listen, kid. Last game, you were like a hero. But being a hero isn't so easy."

"Henrich is the club's most expensive signing in history, and I must give him enough opportunities and trust to prove himself. This is the foundation of locker room stability and team unity, do you understand?"

"I see."

"Very good." Klopp nodded in satisfaction. "However, I can also assure you..."

He leaned close to Qin Feng's ear and whispered something:

"If that Armenian kid can't break down Frankfurt's damn defensive wall by halftime..."

"The second half is your time."