"Dr. Chen."
Chen Yu had been out drinking at a social engagement the night before, so he woke up a little late. It was already past ten in the morning by the time he came downstairs.
As he neared the hotel entrance, Chen Yu heard someone call his name.
He turned his head and saw a man hurrying toward him.
It was Zhang Jianqiang.
"Director Zhang, were you waiting for me? Why didn’t you just come up?" Chen Yu asked, a bit surprised.
Zhang Jianqiang quickly replied, "I heard there was a FIFA reception yesterday. I figured you must have gotten back quite late, Dr. Chen, so I waited down here to avoid disturbing your rest."
Chen Yu frowned slightly. It occurred to him that he hadn’t seen Yan Shiduo or Zhang Jianqiang at the reception yesterday.
FIFA should have known they were in Paris.
’So they just weren’t invited.’
’And the key thing is, Yan Shiduo is a committee member of the AFC.’
Chen Yu shook his head to himself, then smiled. "You must have been waiting for a while, then. I apologize. Let’s sit down and talk."
The two of them sat down in the lounge area.
Chen Yu gestured for a glass of lemonade and then said, "Director Zhang, yesterday wasn’t a good time, so I didn’t ask for the details of your situation. Besides, my appointment won’t be officially active until after this executive committee meeting is over, so I’m not fully aware of the specifics yet."
"However, I’m having lunch with Mr. Blatter in a little while, and I’ll ask him about the situation then. But you need to be mentally prepared. After all, you’ve already officially responded to FIFA and agreed to the cancellation of your hosting rights."
If it was just a matter of asking a few questions, Chen Yu was willing to help that much. But as for whether he would ultimately help them try to overturn the previous decision, he hadn’t made up his mind.
Chen Yu had an attachment to China—his roots were there, after all. But this was no small matter. Overturning the decision wouldn’t be easy.
While FIFA wasn’t a government organization, and granting hosting rights was simply a matter of a vote by the executive committee, it stood to reason that if they could cancel it before, they could certainly reverse that decision now.
But making that happen would require calling in some major favors.
Chen Yu had joined FIFA, but he didn’t want to get too deeply entangled. ’If you owe someone a favor, you’ll have to pay it back eventually.’
’Before you know it, you’re complicit, even if you didn’t intend to be.’
A look of delight spread across Zhang Jianqiang’s face. He quickly thanked him, then said, "Dr. Chen, we’ve put you in a difficult position."
He wasn’t a fool; he knew this wouldn’t be easy.
And he couldn’t just use their shared Chinese heritage to demand Chen Yu’s help. So even if Chen Yu really refused to help, he wouldn’t dare complain.
"Dr. Chen, if you have a moment, I’d like to show you something," Zhang Jianqiang asked tentatively.
"I have time. What do you want to show me?"
Chen Yu nodded.
Zhang Jianqiang hurriedly took a laptop out of his briefcase, plugged in a card reader, and played a video for Chen Yu.
Chen Yu had no idea what Zhang Jianqiang was up to, but he sat up straight and began to watch.
The screen was black at the start, but there was sound.
A man was awkwardly speaking in English, saying, "Welcome to Jiang City. The people of Jiang City welcome you. We hope you achieve great results."
His English was halting and heavily accented, making it extremely difficult to understand.
Then, the video showed an image: in a courtyard, a taxi driver was leaning against his cab, flipping through a small notebook, painstakingly and awkwardly repeating that same English phrase over and over.
Another driver, carrying a thermos, walked over and teased him, "Old Li, just give it up. You didn’t even finish elementary school, what’s the point of learning English? Just sit tight, you won’t get a turn anyway."
"Who says?" the driver named Li immediately retorted.
The reporter filming the video appeared and asked the driver why he was learning English.
He explained shyly that for the upcoming tournament, Jiang City had specifically requested a group of taxi drivers who could handle simple English conversations to assist the visiting athletes. His English wasn’t good, so he was trying to practice as much as he could.
Chen Yu frowned slightly and continued watching.
The scene changed.
It was now a dance studio. Facing a mirrored wall, a line of beautiful young women were practicing etiquette.
They seemed to be training as hostesses.
Their instructor repeatedly drilled them on the key points: smile, make your movements precise. Their level of focus was comparable to military training.
"Who are these people?" Chen Yu turned to look at Zhang Jianqiang.
Zhang Jianqiang gave an embarrassed smile. "To be honest with you, Dr. Chen, this is raw footage from the preparation-work video we submitted to FIFA for review. I had someone edit together a few clips. I just wanted to show you how much effort we’ve put into this World Cup."
Chen Yu didn’t ask any more questions and silently watched the video.
The video covered a lot of ground, from hospitality preparations to the transportation upgrades in the four main host cities.
And of course, it also showed the stadiums.
Chen Yu saw construction workers working overtime, day and night.
Especially this year, after the disease outbreak, many workers were laboring at the risk of getting sick just to meet the deadlines.
A great many things had happened during this process.
There was the project manager who fell ill and was hospitalized from the stress of falling behind schedule.
There were also workers who, in the rush to meet deadlines, suffered falls and injuries from overwork.
The video was long. Twenty minutes of footage showed Chen Yu the true extent of the effort China had poured into preparing for this World Cup.
The host cities in the four regions, in particular, from the local sports authorities down to the ordinary citizens, had all invested immense energy into the preparations.
On top of that, they were hit with the disease outbreak, which made the preparations even more difficult.
Just then, the video cut to a new scene.
The person filming seemed to be knocking on a door.
"Xiaoxu, go get the door."
A clear voice came from behind the door.
A boy of about seven or eight opened the door.
Inside, a woman with long hair was packing a suitcase.
"Who is this?" Chen Yu asked, startled.
Zhang Jianqiang quickly explained, "Her name is Wang Liping. She joined the National Team back in ’92 and was the team’s starting right-back. After the ’99 World Cup, she retired due to her age."
"Then, when our hosting rights were revoked, we also lost our automatic qualification spot as the host nation. Now we have to fight for a spot through the AFC Asian Cup. So after some discussion, the coaching staff decided to recall her to the team."
In the video, Wang Liping had finished her packing efficiently. She said goodbye to her husband and then went to the door to hug her son.
"Xiaoxu, Mommy will be back very soon."
The boy couldn’t help but burst into tears. "Mommy, I don’t want you to go," he cried.
Wang Liping was also wiping away tears, but with a determined look, she gently pushed her son away, picked up her luggage, and walked out of the house.
"Honey, make sure you eat on time! You have stomach problems. And your leg—take it easy," her husband called out as he ran after her, holding their son. He added one last piece of advice.
Wang Liping’s eyes were red and moist. Not daring to look back, she hurried downstairs and left.
Chen Yu let out a sigh.
The scene changed again.
It appeared to be the women’s national team’s training facility.
"Stop holding onto false hopes! I’ve been telling you all along, our goal is to be the champions! So who needs an automatic qualification spot? With our strength, do we need people to pity us?" It was presumably the head coach, shouting through a megaphone at the players, who were running shuttle sprints.
You could clearly see that every single one of them was panting, sweat pouring down like rain.
Beside him, Zhang Jianqiang couldn’t help but sigh as well.
After a short montage of their training, the camera moved to a dormitory at the facility, where the interviewer was speaking with a young woman with short hair.
"In ’99, we were so close... really, I don’t even know what to say. I mean, I’m already 30 this year. I’ve got a knee injury... How many more years do you think I can play?"
"And I’m from Shanghai. I just wanted to play a great game in front of my hometown crowd, to lift the championship trophy in my home stadium. This was supposed to be my last chance."
"I don’t know. I don’t know what to do next. Anyway, I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to treat this year as my last World Cup. I’ll retire right after. What’s that saying? Fight with our backs against the wall."
On screen, she gave a bitter smile, her face full of helplessness.
Chen Yu sighed silently, filled with emotion.
This was the plight of a professional athlete: injuries, age. Many dedicate their entire lives only to leave the field with regret and resignation.
Chen Yu was reminded of Batty.
His departure last year wasn’t without its own regrets either.
The end of the video also covered some of the disease control measures.
Chen Yu had seen some reports on this, but they weren’t very detailed. The United States didn’t pay much attention to China, and even when it did, there probably weren’t many accurate reports.
And at the very end of the video, there was a segment about a fundraiser.
It was a fundraiser held by the men’s and women’s national teams for the disease outbreak.
On the men’s side, the minimum donation was 2,000 yuan. Altogether, the men’s team raised 100,000 yuan.
When it was the women’s team’s turn, the Football Association had also set the minimum donation at 2,000 yuan.
But for most of the female players, that amount was an entire month’s salary.
"The women’s team doesn’t get much attention. They have it pretty tough," Zhang Jianqiang said.
Chen Yu already knew from Liu Yudong that Chinese athletes didn’t earn much. But these female players, who brought honor to their country and strived for a championship, had a monthly income of just 2,000 yuan—less than 300 US dollars.
And for that little bit of money, they trained as if their lives depended on it. A retired player had come back without a second thought, all for her country.
"They’re a group of outstanding athletes," Chen Yu praised.
Seeing that Chen Yu was moved, Zhang Jianqiang quickly added, "Dr. Chen, it’s not just them. There are many, many others. I’m not trying to take credit for ourselves. I just don’t want the efforts of so many people who worked for this World Cup to end up being for nothing."
Chen Yu didn’t speak, lost in thought.
After a long while, Chen Yu gave a wry smile. "Director Zhang, you really came well-prepared."
Zhang Jianqiang’s eyes lit up, and he was about to speak instinctively.
Chen Yu quickly held up a hand to stop him. "You don’t need to say any more. And I can’t make you any promises, but I will help with this matter. By the way, send me this video later. I have a use for it."
"No problem." Zhang Jianqiang nodded eagerly and pushed the laptop over, insisting Chen Yu take it.
"That’s not necessary."
Chen Yu quickly refused. ’If I take your laptop, wouldn’t that be accepting a gift?’
Zhang Jianqiang said, "Oh," and quickly took out the memory card and handed it over. He hesitated for a moment, but decided against saying what else was on his mind.
In truth, he had prepared a whole speech, wanting to properly "thank" Chen Yu.
’This is FIFA, after all. If you don’t spend money, how do you get things done?’

Comments

Loading...