My father passed away suddenly and left me three things:
Half of a county stadium overgrown with grass, a pile of debt, and a group of kickers who haven't received subsidies in three years.
They were couriers, primary school teachers, air-conditioning repairmen, and village party secretaries. During the funeral, they squatted on the roadside and smoked. They asked me: Do you want to apply for the county super this year?
I have worked as an event planner in the provincial capital for seven years. I have organized shopping mall warm-ups, weddings, and car shows, but I have never touched football.
There was no system, no rebirth. What I had was a tattered book of tournament regulations, a hand-drawn sketch of the stadium renovation, and a disbelief in evil.
Starting from mowing lawns, soliciting sponsorships, and hosting wild ball games, people from all over the county crowded to watch the games——
I've taken over this crappy stadium.
