40: Chapter 40 Three kinds of helplessness, one decision: If they don't want me here, there are plenty of other places that will!

How many kinds of helplessness are there in life?

In the game of football, a game intertwined with talent, sweat, capital, and calculation, helplessness is the most common scent in the dressing room, aside from the smell of sweat.

Some helplessness relates to choices, some to growth, while other helplessness is just a cold and inevitable price under the rules of the adult world.

For Mauricio Pochettino, his helplessness lay in the 'must choose', and the guilt that stuck in his throat after making that choice.

Daniel Levy and Paul Mitchell placed that 'either-or' multiple-choice question before him, euphemistically calling it 'respecting the head coach's opinion.' But Mauricio Pochettino knew full well that this so-called vote was just a formality, a way to make him, the head coach, personally stamp the seal of 'technical approval' on the decision.

When he cast his vote in support of Son Heung-min, he could feel the fleeting, relieved tacit understanding in the eyes of Daniel Levy and Paul Mitchell.

The reasons were sufficient and 'correct':

Son Heung-min, 23 years old, a proven immediate impact player from the Bundesliga, a star worth 30 million euros, capable of running, pressing, and Shooting, perfectly fitting the High Pressing system, and able to boost combat effectiveness immediately to stabilize results that might be volatile due to European competition.

And Yu Bai, 17 years old, with visible talent but still a rough diamond, needing a large number of matches to feed his development, needing to endure the mistakes and fluctuations of the growth process; he was a jackpot that might be scratched in the future, but also an uncertain risk in the present.

Having tasted the sweetness of Harry Kane's 'loan out - return - breakout' path, the Tottenham management seemed addicted to this 'loan first, glory later' development model.

They were happy to treat Yu Bai as the next lottery ticket to be scratched, sending him to some 'lottery station' that could guarantee him playing time, fantasizing that after a season or two, he could return like Harry Kane, with a full set of skills and a soaring valuation, to 'return in glory' and become the team's new ace.

Mauricio Pochettino could not refute this logic.

From the perspective of club management and short-term performance, this was even the 'optimal solution'.

But his helplessness lay in the fact that he knew deep down that Yu Bai was different from Harry Kane.

Harry Kane was the material for a classic center-forward, needing match experience and confidence.

And Yu Bai... he was a rarer type of 'explosive variable' capable of instantly changing the rhythm and situation of a match.

He would indeed slow down the attack, sometimes hold the ball too much, and his defensive contribution was insufficient.

But when you couldn't open up the situation, throwing him onto the pitch meant he might tear open a gap with an unreasonable Dribbling, a mind-boggling Passing, or a stunning long-range Shooting.

'He can't stand his ground in the Premier League yet?'

Mauricio Pochettino couldn't say those words.

A 17-year-old kid who could provide an assist in his debut, tear the opponent's right flank to shreds, and force the Italian master Claudio Ranieri to send Kante to specifically provide defensive support—you say he can't play in the Premier League?

This was an insult to his own professional judgment and a disregard for the effort Yu Bai gave that night.

Choosing Son Heung-min was more based on the cold calculation of 'maximizing club interests'.

As for Yu Bai, what Mauricio Pochettino felt was a sentiment similar to 'owing' someone.

He admired this uncut jade but couldn't give him enough time and trust to carve it at the moment.

He was more worried that saying 'You need to be loaned out' himself would plant a grudge in the young man's heart.

What if Yu Bai really returned after leveling up abroad and became the next superstar? Would there be a rift between the manager and the player because of today's 'abandonment'?

This worry about future relationships deepened his helplessness, making him unwilling and afraid to be the 'bad guy' face-to-face.

Thus, the role of this 'bad guy' fell on the shoulders of Kieran McKenna.

This young coach, who had personally promoted Yu Bai from the U18s and was both a mentor and a friend, felt the sharpest and most ironic helplessness at this moment.

He represented the club, yet he had to personally 'send away' his proudest work.

He had to sit in front of Yu Bai and convey the management's decision in as gentle and sincere a tone as possible, wrapping it in the ornate cloak of 'it's for your own good':

'Yu, go out on loan. Go to a team that can guarantee you play a full 90 minutes and start every week. Accumulate experience and hone your body. This is not necessarily the best choice for you right now. The club has high expectations for you. We hope you follow the path Harry Kane walked and one day

return in glory

to White Hart Lane to become a hero here.'

But every word of this sounded like a needle pricking Kieran McKenna's own heart. Because he didn't think like that at all!

What kind of bullshit 'best choice'!

In his eyes, putting aside the comparison with Son Heung-min's 30 million euro price tag, keeping Yu Bai in the Tottenham squad was definitely of great use!

He was not a conventional weapon, but he was that most special 'secret weapon', the 'X factor' that could break the balance when all tactics failed!

A 17-year-old genius who could play on the wing or in the middle, had top-tier Dribbling and breakthrough ability, and also possessed a lethal Passing and long-range Shooting—which title-contending team would complain about having too much of that?

The management was poisoned by 'loan out to level up', thinking all talents could follow the same template as Harry Kane. They were obsessed!

But could he say these roars and anger to Yu Bai? No.

He was a club employee, and his task was to appease, to persuade, and to make this young heart, which might be restless, accept the reality of being 'temporarily abandoned'.

This sense of tearing between what he said and what he thought made Kieran McKenna's helplessness full of powerlessness and sorrow.

And Yu Bai, sitting opposite Kieran McKenna, listened quietly.

There was no expression on his face, but his eyes, which were too clear, reflected every unnatural pause and flickering gaze of Kieran McKenna.

Yu Bai's helplessness was the heaviest and most fatal of the trio.

It stemmed from the gap between expectations and reality, from the intertwining of gratitude and betrayal, and more importantly—there was a 17-year-old body living in him, and a soul nearly 32 years old, quietly matured by the system.

If he were still that pure 17-year-old boy full of gratitude for Tottenham's shelter, he would have teary eyes, nodded vigorously, and promised Coach Kieran McKenna: 'Coach, I understand! Thank you to the club and Mr. Mauricio Pochettino for considering me! I will definitely play well outside, give it my all, and when I have honed my skills, I will definitely come back and fight for Tottenham! I will never let your expectations down!'

He would have regarded this 'arrangement' as a form of cultivation and care, and set off on his journey with gratitude.

But he was not that person anymore.

Ever since he bound with that mysterious system symbolizing 'future regret', Yu Bai's way of thinking had been subtly transforming.

He was still passionate and still craved victory, but the way he viewed clubs, coaches, and even relationships had gained a bit of calmness and detachment that transcended his age.

Kieran McKenna's words were very tactful, but he accurately captured all the key information:

1. Tottenham had found a 'better' choice.

2. They wanted to use a loan that was 'for his own good' to temporarily remove him from the chessboard.

3. They were betting that after he went out to level up, he would return like Harry Kane and crave to become the team's leader.

Gratitude?

The bit of gratitude Yu Bai felt for Tottenham's help when he was in need was real.

He was grateful to Mauricio Pochettino for daring to use a newcomer, and grateful to the club for valuing youth training.

However, my first love is Arsenal.

You, Tottenham, are at best a 'pretty classmate' who showed me favor and gave me a chance when I was at my lowest.

And this 'classmate' is also a sworn enemy of my 'first love'.

What makes you think I will definitely be the fool who is loyal to a 'backup' classmate, goes out to gain experience, and then obediently comes back to be a 'simp'?

A mixture of disappointment, sarcasm, and strong self-esteem surged in his chest.

The feeling of being weighed, chosen, and 'temporarily stored' stung him.

If this place won't keep me, another will.

You want me to leave? Fine. But once I'm out, where the door is, and whether I come back or not, that won't be up to you.

Gratitude? If my transfer fee in the future can make you a fortune, that 'gratitude' should be enough to repay your favor of less than two months, right?

...

Evening, Enfield, the Thompson family's backyard.

Yu Bai sat alone in the sunset glow, his shadow stretched very long.

He no longer looked at the news on his phone about his 'stunning debut', nor did he recall his parents' gratified smiles.

He closed his eyes and smoothed out the chaotic thoughts in his mind like organizing cards, filing them away one by one.

Then, he opened his eyes, and the confusion and sadness belonging to a 17-year-old boy in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a clear, almost cold decisiveness.

He took out his phone, found the contact named 'J. Barnett', and dialed the number.

The call was connected quickly, and Jonathan Barnett's voice, always energetic and carrying a hint of calculation, came through: 'Hey, my young superstar, how does it feel after match day? Do you need me to prepare some lines for the media?'

'Save it, Jonathan.'

Yu Bai's voice was calm, but carried an unquestionable force, 'We'll talk about the media's nonsense later. Now, buddy, it's time to work.'

'Hm?' Jonathan Barnett sensed the unusual tone.

'Use all your connections, start all your evaluation systems.'

Yu Bai looked into the distance and said clearly, word by word, 'Find me a destination that is perfect, most suitable for me, allows me to play immediately, and allows me to grow rapidly.'

He paused, then added, his tone filled with long-suppressed sharpness and impatience:

'I want the whole Premier League, no, the whole world to know—'

'I, Yu Bai, am very young.'

'But, I am also very strong, and I have never been a two-dollar lottery ticket.'

'And, I don't want to wait another second, goddammit.'

On the other end of the line, Jonathan Barnett was stunned for two seconds, and then, his signature loud laughter erupted from the receiver, full of excitement and eagerness to try:

'Hahaha! Good! Very good! This is the player I chose! Yu, keep this momentum! Leave the rest to your professional agent!'

'Hunting season, it's started early!'

Hanging up the phone, Yu Bai let out a long breath.

There was a breeze in the courtyard, carrying the coolness of late summer.

The 'sentimentality' and struggle belonging to a 17-year-old seemed to have been blown away quite a bit with this phone call.

The road ahead was uncertain, but the initiative must be held in his own hands.

He was determined to break into the Premier League scene. As for in what way, and on which mountain he would make a name for himself...

We'll see.