As in previous years, the UEFA Champions League group stage draw and award ceremony were interwoven throughout the evening.
Despite Ajax's recent European successes — reaching the quarterfinals three seasons ago, winning the UEFA Champions League two year ago, and lifting the UEFA Cup this past season — they were still placed in Pot 2 for the group stage draw. That was due to UEFA's coefficient system, which favors consistent domestic and continental performances over a five-year period, heavily weighted towards clubs from the top four leagues.
Pot 1, reserved for the top seeds, was occupied by giants from those major leagues: AC Milan, Barcelona, Liverpool, Manchester United, Inter Milan, Bayern Munich, and Arsenal. Ajax's absence from this elite group was seen by many Dutch analysts as a clear sign of the structural bias that continued to favor clubs from England, Spain, Italy, and Germany.
The most intriguing case among the top seeds, however, was Liverpool.
The Reds had finished fifth in the Premier League the previous season, originally missing out on qualification for the Champions League. It would've been absurd — even farcical — for the defending European champions to be excluded from defending their title. After heated debates, UEFA made an exception. Liverpool were allowed to participate, but with a significant caveat: they had to start from the very first qualifying round and were not granted any seeding protection or domestic nationality exemption.
While most clubs kicked off their seasons in early August, Liverpool had already been grinding since mid-July. As of the draw ceremony, they had already played six matches across three rounds of Champions League qualifiers, in addition to two Premier League fixtures.
In their most recent outing, Liverpool suffered an embarrassing 0–1 home defeat to CSKA Sofia. Though they had won the away leg 3–1, securing advancement with a narrow 3–2 aggregate score, the match raised serious concerns about their attack. Eighteen shots had produced just five on target. Both Djibril Cissé and Fernando Morientes appeared woefully out of form, and their lack of cutting edge was beginning to alarm both fans and analysts alike.
It was precisely this vulnerability that Ajax hoped to exploit in the upcoming UEFA Super Cup clash.
Liverpool's unique position in the draw — as a top seed with no domestic league restriction — meant they could theoretically be drawn against any Pot 2 side, including Chelsea, another English club.
Following the completion of the Pot 1 draw, UEFA shifted momentarily back to the awards. The Best Goalkeeper of the Year was presented to Chelsea's Petr Čech.
The towering Czech shot-stopper had enjoyed a remarkable debut Premier League season, conceding just 13 goals in 35 matches. His consistency, reflexes, and composure under pressure saw him beat out tough competition, including Champions League hero Jerzy Dudek and Italian stalwart Gianluigi Buffon, to claim the honour.
Many now viewed Čech as the natural heir to Buffon's throne — the next dominant force between the posts in European football.
With that award complete, all eyes returned to the stage as UEFA resumed the group stage draw. The tension in the Grimaldi Forum began to build.
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"Yang, is there any team you'd prefer to avoid?" Kaka turned to him with a smile.
Yang Yang chuckled and shook his head.
This season, Ajax's draw prospects were certainly better than last year's. After lifting the UEFA Cup, the club's European coefficient had improved, raising their seeding tier and lowering the odds of landing in a 'group of death.'
In other words, there would be no repeat of the nightmare group from last season, when Ajax had to battle both Juventus and Bayern Munich.
Of course, Pot 3 still contained dangerous sides like Schalke 04, Werder Bremen, and Anderlecht — teams with the quality to make things tricky. But compared to what they had endured before, this felt like fortune finally smiled on them.
So Yang Yang wasn't too worried.
"I'm fine with anyone," he replied calmly.
Kaka grinned. "Anyone you do want to face?"
Yang Yang thought for a moment, then stepped a little closer and answered with a sly smile, "You."
"Ah?" Kaka raised an eyebrow, surprised. "You serious?"
"Completely," Yang Yang nodded. "Two years ago, I watched from the stands at the Amsterdam Arena as you and AC Milan knocked us out. That day, I promised myself I'd return the favour."
He said it with a laugh, but he meant every word.
Realistically, Ajax would still be underdogs in a matchup with AC Milan — the Italian side was stacked with elite talent and experience. But that didn't mean they wouldn't fight.
"You hold grudges, huh?" Kaka laughed.
"Exactly. You'd better start praying now that you don't end up at our stadium again," Yang Yang teased.
Kaka's grin widened. "Now I really hope we draw you. Let's settle it on the pitch."
They were both young and hungry, and the competitive fire between them burned bright.
But the draw had other plans.
Ajax were the second team pulled from Pot 2 — placed into Group B alongside Arsenal.
Ironically, the very first Pot 2 team drawn was Juventus. And, unbelievably, they ended up in the same group as Bayern Munich — again. Lightning had struck twice. The audience let out a collective groan. How cursed could one club's draw luck be?
For Ajax, the remaining group members were Sparta Prague from the Czech Republic and FC Thun of Switzerland — not the most fearsome opponents on paper, but not to be underestimated either.
No team qualifies for the Champions League by accident.
After the draw continued, UEFA resumed handing out their individual awards.
The Best Defender award went to Chelsea captain John Terry, who edged out Liverpool's Jamie Carragher and AC Milan's Paolo Maldini. Terry had been instrumental in Chelsea's historic Premier League campaign, anchoring a defense that conceded just 15 goals.
Best Midfielder went to none other than Kaka. The Brazilian playmaker had dazzled in both Serie A and the Champions League, and his blend of elegance and explosiveness earned him the nod over Frank Lampard.
Best Forward was awarded to Ronaldinho. The Barcelona maestro triumphed over his compatriot Adriano of Inter and teammate Andriy Shevchenko. Few contested the decision — Ronaldinho had, without a doubt, lit up Europe that season.
The UEFA Best Player of the Year — the evening's top honor — was handed to Liverpool captain Steven Gerrard, whose heroics in Istanbul had entered football folklore. This one carried little controversy. Gerrard had dragged Liverpool back from 3–0 down in the final against Milan, sparking the most iconic comeback in Champions League history.
Two lesser-noticed awards closed the evening.
The Best Coach award was shared: Rafael Benítez, for leading Liverpool to Champions League glory, and Ronald Koeman, for guiding Ajax to the UEFA Cup title.
Yang Yang remained seated throughout the ceremony. One by one, the stars around him stood and walked onto the stage to collect their awards. He stayed put, clapping politely, but never moving.
He hadn't expected anything else.
As brilliant as Ajax's UEFA Cup campaign had been, in the eyes of UEFA, it was always a tier below the Champions League. Even as the tournament's best player, he was invisible in a night that only celebrated the elite.
The only recognition for Ajax was Koeman's coaching award — a small, symbolic nod. Yang Yang's UEFA Cup MVP wasn't even mentioned.
It was no secret: most top clubs who dropped into the UEFA Cup from the Champions League didn't even take it seriously. Some fielded second-string lineups. To many, it was a consolation prize. That attitude cast a shadow over everything Yang Yang had achieved in that competition.
He knew his name was known now — but mostly because of headlines about breaking Ronaldo's Eredivisie scoring record. There was always a sense that he was still riding someone else's legend, still being measured against it.
In the Netherlands, he was treated like a superstar. The media adored him, the fans idolized him, and Ajax did everything to support him.
But here, under the crystal chandeliers of Monte Carlo, surrounded by the true titans of world football, Yang Yang could feel just how far he still had to climb.
It reminded him of the early days — sitting on the Almere City bus, passing beneath the towering steel of the Amsterdam Arena. The gap between where he was and where he wanted to be had once felt immense.
Now it felt narrower.
Because this time, he wasn't just dreaming — he was already on the path. He'd earned the invitation. And even if his name wasn't called tonight, he believed it would be one day.
Not just by UEFA.
But by FIFA too, when the world gathered again in December.
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After returning to the hotel from the Grimaldi Convention Center, Yang Yang's teammates were eager to hear about his experience at the draw and award ceremony.
But Yang Yang had little interest in discussing it. For him, players like Ronaldinho and Kaka were targets—distant ones, for now. What occupied his mind was the next match: the UEFA Super Cup clash against Liverpool.
It would be Ajax's first European fixture of the new season. The Super Cup might not hold the weight of the Champions League, but it was still a European trophy. More importantly, it was an opportunity to test themselves against the reigning champions. Yang Yang was hungry to prove himself on this bigger stage.
Liverpool, however, was no easy opponent.
Despite their shaky domestic form and lackluster attacking displays, they remained tactically unpredictable under Rafael Benitez. The Spaniard was notorious for unconventional line-ups and adjustments. For instance, would he opt for the towering presence of Peter Crouch up front or the more mobile Morientes? Would Luis Garcia start? Would Cissé be pushed wide or deployed centrally?
And what about Yang Yang's direct opposition?
If he operated down the left as he had recently, would he be facing the aggressive, attack-minded John Arne Riise, whose defensive vulnerabilities could be exploited? Or would Djimi Traoré be tasked with containing him? And on Liverpool's right, would it be the dependable Steve Finnan or perhaps even Jamie Carragher redeployed?
While Ronald Koeman loved maximizing the versatility of his players, Benitez used his squad like a box of puzzle pieces, constantly reconfiguring depending on the battle. That made planning for Liverpool extremely difficult.
The only certainty was that Liverpool captain Steven Gerrard would miss the match through injury. Gerrard himself had confirmed it during the draw ceremony. Even so, Liverpool's midfield still boasted the likes of Xabi Alonso, Dietmar Hamann, and Mohamed Sissoko—a trio more than capable of dictating play.
But Ajax had its own strengths. Yaya Touré, Nigel de Jong, and Wesley Sneijder formed a dynamic and combative midfield trio. And with Yang Yang up front in brilliant form, this match was wide open.
More than anything, Yang Yang felt driven. The ceremony earlier had sparked something deeper in him. Watching the greats collect awards had ignited a burning urge to be remembered. Not as a promising teenager or a local Eredivisie hero, but as a name known across Europe.
He was determined to begin carving that legacy now—starting with the UEFA Super Cup.
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While Yang Yang was locked in high-intensity simulation training on the Dream training system—recreating Liverpool's defenders one by one, Rafael Benítez had just returned to the team hotel. Without delay, he summoned his entire coaching staff for a late tactical meeting ahead of tomorrow night's UEFA Super Cup clash.
"Ajax are in frightening form," said assistant coach Pako Ayestarán with a furrowed brow as he reviewed the latest data. "Three consecutive wins in the Eredivisie, thirteen goals scored, just one conceded. Yang Yang has already recorded six goals and two assists. He's their engine. Their game turns around him."
Benítez nodded. The name Yang Yang had already been etched into his memory long ago. The player who shattered Ronaldo Nazário's long-standing Eredivisie record had become a sensation across Europe.
"Yes, Ajax are still a team from the Eredivisie," Pako continued, "but their attacking football is anything but modest. Their fluid front line and fast transitions are difficult for any opponent."
The Spaniard was right. Ajax had long been synonymous with attacking style, and with Ronald Koeman's tweaks—introducing more verticality and energy into midfield—the side had grown into a serious European contender.
On the other hand, their defense remained shaky.
"Heitinga got sent off in the first game," Benítez recalled. "He missed the second round and looked out of rhythm in the third, gifting Kuyt a goal. Since Escudé left, that backline hasn't looked settled."
That was the opening Liverpool had to exploit. But how?
"Crouch or Morientes?" Benítez posed the question to the room.
Tactical analyst Duff McDonough didn't hesitate. "Morientes. Cissé was ineffective against CSKA Sofia, and Crouch, while useful, doesn't have a finisher next to him right now. His link-up play only works if someone finishes his knockdowns. We don't have that in form right now."
"Agreed," Pako added. "Morientes at least brings composure in the box. We can pair him with Luis García and try to open Ajax up with movement."
Benítez tapped the table thoughtfully. Crouch, for all his height—over two meters—still lacked chemistry with the others. He was supposed to be the target man, but there was no consistent scorer to play off him. It was frustrating.
"Yang Yang must be contained," Benítez said firmly.
"Easier said than done," Pako replied, almost grimacing. "He roams all over the final third. Starts wide right, but switches to the left, drops deep, and drifts between lines. Two-footed, explosive acceleration, technically sound, and unpredictable. He'll be everywhere."
Duff exhaled. "He's complete. The media aren't exaggerating."
Pako cracked a dry smile. "The only advice I've seen that makes any sense? Force Ajax to play over him, not through him. If Yang Yang doesn't get the ball at his feet, he's far less dangerous."
It was half-joke, half-truth.
Last season, Yang Yang scored over 30 goals in the league—many with either foot, none with his head. Not a single one.
It was his curious blind spot, much like his idol Ronaldo, who rarely scored with headers. Even his close friend Ibrahimović mocked heading the ball, often quipping: "Why use your head when you have feet?"
"Let's tighten the flanks," Benítez instructed. "That's where Ajax hurt you—Yang Yang, Maxwell, Maicon. They overload the wings and stretch teams apart."
He began laying out the projected lineup on the whiteboard.
"Carragher starts at right-back. Josemi partners Hyypiä in central defense. I'm not convinced by Riise's positioning as a fullback, so he plays ahead of Traoré on the left. That way, we protect the channel Yang Yang tends to exploit."
"And midfield?" asked Pako.
"Alonso and Hamann. Gerrard's out, and Sissoko's still too raw going forward. We need stability, not chaos."
"Formation?" Duff asked.
"4-4-2. Garcia and Morientes up top. Balance over flash. We need experience, not flair."
Benítez circled Yang Yang's name on the tactics board.
"Wherever he moves, we adapt. Shut him down, and Ajax lose their rhythm. That's the mission."
The coaches nodded. Everyone in the room understood. Yang Yang was more than a winger. He was the axis of Ajax's chaos, the trigger to their intensity.
To stop Ajax, they had to stop him.
But they all knew—it was easier drawn on a board than done on a pitch.
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The city of Monaco was no different from other glamorous cities in Europe—except, perhaps, that it felt even smaller and more suffocating for a footballer like Yang Yang. There was no proper space for morning training, no track to run freely, no field to breathe football. So, as always, he adapted.
He stayed in the hotel gym, where he jogged on the treadmill, moved through his strength routine under the supervision of Winston Bogarde, and finished with a long, sweat-soaked ride on the stationary bike. It was the same routine he had followed every morning for more than half a year. Relentless, methodical, necessary.
Winston Bogarde watched from the side, arms crossed, as Yang Yang finished another set.
"You're different today," he said.
Yang Yang wiped his face with a towel but didn't stop pedaling.
"I saw the world," he said simply.
Winston smiled knowingly. "Good. I remember when you came to me last October. You said you wanted to be stronger. That you had a reason."
Yang Yang nodded. "I saw Ronaldinho. Kaka. Gerrard. And so many others. One day, I'll be with them."
Then he shook his head. "No—not just with them. I'll be better."
Winston didn't laugh. He didn't dismiss it. Instead, he gave a quiet nod, because deep down, he respected it. Yang Yang was only eighteen. But eighteen with hunger could be more dangerous than thirty with comfort.
"Then I have to work harder too," Winston replied.
Yang Yang looked over his shoulder and grinned. "Exactly. You're Ajax's fitness coach and my personal coach. If I become the best player in the world, you'd better keep up."
Winston chuckled. "What happens after that?"
"Easy. You write a book. 'How to Train Yang Yang'. I'll let you use my name and image rights for free."
"How generous," Winston said, half-laughing.
Yang Yang wasn't finished. "And think about it. If I succeed, and your book sells, and you open your own gym, finally… finally you might get a girlfriend."
Winston stared at him.
"I mean it," Yang Yang continued with mock sincerity. "Picture it. You're shirtless, demonstrating biceps curls, the media calls you the man who sculpted Yang Yang. Women lining up for personal sessions."
Winston's eyes lit up with the fantasy—until Yang Yang leaned in with a smirk.
"Of course," he said, sighing theatrically, "you are a fitness coach. Others are fitness coaches too. The difference is, they have admirers. You have dumbbells and protein powder."
Before Winston could respond, Yang Yang darted out the gym door, laughing.
Winston chased a few steps and shouted after him, grinning in disbelief.
"This kid… who raised him like this?!"
He shook his head, half-proud, half-defeated. "Just wait. One day, I'll publish that book… and maybe finally get a girlfriend."
He looked back at the empty gym and muttered to himself.
"Maybe."