"Good job, Maël!"
From the sidelines, Hans stood up once again, clenching his fist and waving it.
Three to three, a tie!
This was somewhat of a pleasant surprise. Could it be that their trial lineup could hold its own against Liverpool?
Wouldn't that mean that Arsenal's youth training was already far ahead of Liverpool?
"Mr. Wenger, what do you think of him?"
After celebrating and returning to the coaching area, Hans hurriedly asked Wenger for his opinion, with some anticipation. "Although I really want to recommend those who have been with me longer, you saw his performance today with your own eyes."
Sometimes it's like this: you not only need to prepare for the future and accumulate stronger strength, but you also need an opportunity to have your strength seen by those who have the ability to promote you.
Maël was lucky; his first performance amazed everyone.
More importantly, this 'everyone' included Wenger, the current Arsenal first-team coach!
But considering that Mr. Wenger had been paying attention to him for a while, you can't just say he was lucky. Maybe Wenger came to watch the game specifically to see him.
"That kind of shooting conversion rate is indeed impressive, and he has good physical strength."
Wenger nodded, then added, "I imagine you'll give him a youth training contract, but you're asking if I would promote him to the first team."
"It's not easy to decide. I can't give you an answer now; this is only the first time I've seen him play."
However, Wenger seemed to remember something and turned to look at a corner of the fan area, where several serious-looking people were writing something with their heads down.
No celebration, just meticulous recording, making them seem out of place among the surrounding fans.
They were the scouts. They must have witnessed Maël's performance firsthand and would make a judgment based on scouting standards.
"Excellent Long Shot ability, shooting Strength and accuracy far exceeding his peers! Has Cannon talent."
In the stands, a scout from Sheffield United was rapidly recording in his notebook, "Physical confrontation is excellent in the same level of competition, with plasticity."
"In terms of weaknesses, he doesn't seem to be good at passing threatening balls or dribbling breakthroughs. He lost possession at least twice due to failed dribbling and twice due to passing errors, but his basic skills are solid, and he doesn't show timidity on the field."
"Potential level: B+, on par with Arsenal U17 captain Gilbert, with a certain chance of adapting to the EFL Championship league in the future."
After finishing this, he stopped writing and stared intently at Maël, who was celebrating.
He wanted to judge from his teammates' reactions to Maël whether this player was under contract or was an Arsenal trial player.
You have to know that these two identities represent two completely different levels of difficulty in acquiring him! "Interested?"
A scout from Burnley leaned over, scoffing, "After Sheffield United failed to get promoted last year, a large number of Premier League-level players left. Just focus on staying up with the remaining remnants."
"Could it be that you have other ideas?"
The Sheffield United scout ignored him and continued recording in his notebook.
Last year, in the 2009-10 season, they entered the EFL Championship promotion playoffs and made it all the way to the final, with promotion to the Premier League within reach.
Unfortunately, they lost the final, becoming a permanent regret, and the club lost confidence.
And their opponent in the final at that time was Burnley!
In addition, the two clubs have always been hovering around the Premier League and EFL Championship, often having life-or-death competitive relationships.
It's only natural that they don't get along.
"Don't worry, we won't compete with you."
The Burnley scout saw that he didn't speak and turned away dejectedly. "Premier League teams naturally need better players. What we don't choose will naturally be left to EFL Championship teams like you."
The Sheffield United scout still ignored him, so he turned his attention to the Leeds United scout next to him, thinking of chatting for a few words.
Seeing that the other party was also recording with his head down, the Burnley scout finally realized what he should be focusing on at the moment.
He took out his notebook, thought for a moment, and wrote a bunch of words.
"Arsenal, No. 31."
"Excellent long-range shooting ability, excellent physical confrontation ability, but no other obvious characteristics. As a winger, he doesn't have an excellent cross from the byline, nor does he have outstanding cutting-inside ability or the ability to attack the penalty area.
"Doesn't have the potential to play in the Premier League. If he can be bought out for under £40,000, I suggest the club take him. Put him in the youth team or reserves to accumulate experience, and then sell him to an EFL Championship or League One club for £100,000 to £500,000 in the future."
After writing this, he shook his head slightly, feigning disappointment.
He thought Wenger's visit to the game would uncover a few potential rising stars, but it turned out there was only a number 31 who 'doesn't have Premier League potential'.
"What a waste of time."
He lost interest and refocused his energy on showing off the superiority of being a 'Premier League scout', every gesture different from those around him, putting on quite the show.
Sometimes people are like this: when they realize they can't achieve their original goal, the feeling of frustration makes them compensate in other areas where they have an advantage.
"Bee! Bee! Bee—!"
Before long, with three long blasts from the referee's whistle, the game officially ended.
The score: three to three!
Arsenal, relying on their trial lineup, managed to draw against Liverpool at home, which was definitely an acceptable result.
"No holiday this week! When you get back, give yourselves a good hard think!"
The Liverpool coach left looking furious, sternly berating his players: "Why did the opposition still have fighting spirit after conceding goals? Why was their shooting conversion rate so high, and yours wasn't?"
Watching him, the Arsenal players were even happier.
Often, the sense of accomplishment and joy in competitive sports comes from comparing oneself to the opponent.
Maël was excitedly high-fiving his teammates, experiencing for the first time the thrill of turning the tide and realizing the value of his own strength in a competitive match.
"Staying is definitely no problem. Congratulations in advance."
Captain Gilbert hugged him, jokingly congratulating him: "Who knows, maybe Mr. Wenger noticed you too. If you can get into the first team in the future, don't forget about us."
"How could I?"
Maël laughed, patting him on the back before separating. He turned his head and saw Karl, who had a complex expression on his face.
Karl had come to the team with him, and just a few dozen days ago, they had been lamenting together about how difficult it would be to stay.
However, since that shooting practice, everything had been different for the two of them.
"I should have gone to extra practice with you back then."
Karl gave a self-deprecating smile, as if he could already foresee his future. "Unfortunately, I couldn't get up, and I couldn't bring myself to drag my tired body to extra practice every day when I already had training assignments."
"Go back to France and try again at a Ligue 1 or Ligue 2 club."
Maël suppressed his joy, unsure how to comfort him. "There should still be opportunities."
Professional football is so cruel. Behind every successful person is countless failures who sacrificed their youth but still only gained regret and pain.
Karl shook his head, not talking about himself, but forcing a few awkward smiles. "You're definitely going to keep playing at Colney Base. Keep up the good work, and I hope to see you play professional football one day.
"If you can get into the French national team in the future and win the European Cup and World Cup, then I'll have something to brag about when I go back. I'll definitely fill my house with posters of you and tell my children and grandchildren in the future, hahaha..."
He laughed twice at the end, trying not to seem so sad and envious, but it was no use.
Maël hugged him, patted him on the shoulder, and felt his body tremble slightly, his breathing no longer even.
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