Let go by a wealthy club’s youth academy from the start, with the excuse that he “only knows how to smash into people like a beast”? He Wenchuan gave a cold laugh and promptly signed with Wimbledon, a club known for its bruising style.
If you call me a butcher, then I’ll be a top-tier butcher who knows the rules inside out!
As the whole of England jeered, He Wenchuan sent one highly valued young prodigy after another crashing to the turf.
Before every bone-rattling collision, he would mutter, “That was a fair challenge for the ball.”
His golden finger kicked in, turning red cards into yellow cards, and yellow cards into verbal warnings.
The so-called masters of technical play were as fragile as porcelain dolls in front of him.
The FA stayed up all night rewriting the rules to stop him, but he always found a new loophole to keep dishing out punishment.
From “football hooligan” to “god of the rulebook,” He Wenchuan showed the world in the hardest way possible: within the rules, I am God!
