Zidane: "No rush. You'll feel it next season. Actually—no, you might not even lead your team to second place next season."
Su Hang: "That's looking down on me a bit, isn't it?"
Zidane: "A team isn't something one person can change alone. This summer you led Spain to a miracle, but honestly, this Spain squad already had a strong foundation."
"For most fans though, they'd never even heard of Iniesta. They thought Xavi was just another puzzle piece. Alonso had to move all the way to England just to start for a big club. Villa and Torres were considered small-team players. Raúl, Puyol, and Albelda were hitting that turning point in age, starting to decline…"
"But I guarantee you, none of these guys will end up with modest careers."
"Add Aragonés' tactics to that, and it really lets players achieve twice the results with half the effort. Compared to our Domenech over here…"
"But Real Madrid won't give you such a perfect setup."
Su Hang chuckled. "Of course I can't do it. But you can."
Zidane frowned. "What do you mean? I'm retiring. Seriously."
Su Hang nodded. "You're really willing to let it go? You're half a step away from being the absolute best."
"If you retire now, there's no chance you win the Ballon d'Or or FIFA World Player of the Year at year's end."
"But if you hold on a little longer, even without putting up big numbers, you'll still have a strong shot."
Zidane looked at him like he was crazy. "Do you not realize that aside from me, you are the only other real contender for the individual awards this year?"
"The others—Figo, Henry, Ronaldinho, Cannavaro, Eto'o—unless they put up explosive numbers early next season, it's either you or me."
Su Hang: "That's why I'm asking—want to gamble? See whether I step on your shoulders to reach the top, or whether you hold down this younger generation and enjoy a glorious finale."
"Ballon d'Or, FIFA World Player of the Year… then maybe a La Liga or Copa del Rey title as your farewell gift—that's a perfect coronation, no?"
"As for Ronaldo's injury, I don't think he's in the running. Word is he played this entire World Cup while injured. He'll probably need surgery on his left knee."
"This is your best chance to seize the moment."
Zidane: "Ronaldo's your teammate too. Why not help him become king?"
Su Hang: "Ronaldo is Ronaldo—brilliant in his own way. Maybe he won't be the king, but he's more special than any king. He's the one who stands just beneath the throne, unforgettable in his own right."
"But you're different. You're more… ordinary. Or rather, you're the absolute ceiling of ordinary players. Players like you—if they don't reach the very top—get forgotten quickly."
"So Ronaldo can live without the Ballon d'Or. But you can't."
"After all, you don't want fans pointing at you when you return as a coach someday, shouting, 'Does this bald guy know anything about football?'"
Zidane still didn't give a clear answer.
Su Hang had talked to him about this several times. Zidane kept wavering.
If France had won the World Cup, Zidane would've retired on the spot—nothing could've been more perfect.
But now—thanks to Su Hang interfering—Zidane might be forced to "work overtime."
Soon, Haaland came running toward Su Hang, looking anxious.
Su Hang had promised him a jersey before the match.
He kept his word—took off his jersey and tossed it to Haaland.
Only then did he notice Mbappe following right behind.
"Kylian, you're here too? Sorry—Haaland blocked you earlier. I didn't see you."
Su Hang noticed Mbappe staring straight at the jersey in Haaland's hands.
The situation… did not look good.
Little Turtle was evaluating the power levels, wondering if he should go all-out against Majin Buu.
"Here, this is for you." Su Hang threw his captain's armband to Mbappe. "Hope you become an excellent director someday!"
Mbappe instantly lit up.
"What the hell?" Zidane stared at Su Hang's back, stunned.
A massive red swelling covered Su Hang's back, especially around the lower spine—from when he slammed into the goalpost after that overhead clearance.
This kid!
"You almost split yourself in half on the goalpost!" Zidane grabbed his shoulders. "Does it hurt? Don't move—get your team doctor to check it!"
Except… where was the team doctor?
He was long gone celebrating.
"Holy shit—holy shit—holy shit…" Zidane's words were like a switch. The moment he spoke, a sharp pain shot through Su Hang's back, making his legs weaken until he could barely stand.
He'd felt discomfort during the match, but nothing this painful.
Honestly, it was because of that back and waist pain that Su Hang didn't celebrate with a siu after scoring—he grabbed the camera instead.
"You were too focused during the match. Now that your body's relaxed, the real pain's kicking in." Zidane scanned the surroundings and spotted something. "There— that fan has a wheelchair. Wait here."
And so viewers saw Zidane walk toward the stands… to ask for a wheelchair.
Fans worked together to pass it down—whether the fan sitting in it agreed or not was another miracle entirely.
Ramos and Simon noticed and rushed over. Together they pushed Su Hang to the sideline for treatment.
After examining him, the team doctor confirmed it was purely blunt-force trauma—nothing but a hard collision. Besides applying some pain-relief spray, there wasn't much else they could do.
Of course, the doctor recommended Su Hang get an X-ray after the trophy ceremony—anything involving the spine or lumbar region needed caution.
One wrong move could mean real trouble.
Until then, Su Hang shouldn't do any strenuous activity. No running, no jumping—ideally, not even standing.
A wheelchair would be best.
So the team carefully sat him down in the wheelchair.
Puyol was unusually enthusiastic. "Fans usually call slow defenders or defensive midfielders 'wheelchair players.' Su, from today on, you're officially one of us!"
The moment he said it, even the notorious "Young Su" Ramos put his sinful hand on Su Hang's shoulder. "Captain Su, I'll push you up for the trophy later!"
...
Soon, the awards podium was set up.
The World Cup championship ceremony officially began.
First, the FIFA World Cup Trophy was brought onto the stage.
Then came the individual awards for the tournament.
In fact, just minutes earlier, London Globe had already released an article compiling surprise stats from this World Cup—and the clicks exploded instantly.
For example, the players who picked up the most cards this World Cup were Portugal's defensive midfielder Costinha and Ghana's Asamoah.
Both accumulated four yellows and one red.
...
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