Echoes of Greatness: The Rise of a Global Football Sensation

Playing for the national team—whether it be the senior squad or the U20 team—and playing for Ajax were two entirely different experiences. 

Regardless of which team he was on, Yang Yang was the undisputed core star, the player that everyone relied on. That status granted him respect and support, but the reality of his role varied significantly between club and country. 

At Ajax, he was surrounded by stronger teammates, players with higher technical abilities, sharper footballing intelligence, and a system that naturally created chances for him. He didn't have to worry about organizing attacks or covering for defensive gaps—his sole focus was on his strengths, attacking and finishing. 

But in the Chinese national team, things were different. 

The overall level of the team was lower. Yang Yang couldn't afford to only think about scoring—he had to drop deeper, link play, create chances, and sometimes even help organize the defense. 

On the pitch, he was more than just a forward—he was the extension of the coach's philosophy, the on-field leader executing Arie Haan's and Krautzun's tactical vision. 

Maybe it was because he had a sharp tactical mind, or because he understood the game better than most. Maybe it was just his mentality, his drive to constantly learn and improve. But whatever the reason, he had become the team's voice on the field, the one who ensured the coach's ideas were implemented correctly. 

It was a role that carried an immense burden. 

He felt it after every loss, after every difficult match—the pressure, the weight of expectations. 

But he never resented it. He never wanted to escape from it. 

Instead, he embraced it. 

There is an old saying: "A child never sees their mother as ugly, and a mother never sees their child as poor." 

Chinese football was weak—there was no denying it. The national team struggled against top opposition, and there was still a long road ahead before they could truly compete at the highest level. 

But this was his country. His team. His people. 

No matter how difficult it was, this was the only team that could represent China on the world stage, the only team that could carry the hopes of over a billion people. 

And if he had the ability to help it improve, then he would do whatever it took. 

Because with great ability comes great responsibility. 

If he wanted an easier path, it was simple—train less, slack off, lower his level, and the pressure would naturally disappear. 

But then, he would no longer be Yang Yang. 

That wasn't the kind of player he wanted to be. 

That wasn't the kind of person he wanted to be. 

Some players took the easy path. Players like Maxwell, an eternal optimist, a good teammate, a devoted family man, who spent more time thinking about his wife and children than about being a leader on the pitch. 

No one expected Maxwell to step up in crucial moments. No one demanded greatness from him. 

But no one ever called him the star of Ajax, either. 

Over the past three years in Europe, especially after joining Ajax, Yang Yang had changed immensely. 

His perspective had shifted. 

He no longer thought only about himself—he thought about the team, the bigger picture. 

Van Basten had once told him something that stuck with him. 

"A leader isn't someone who talks. A leader is someone who performs. If you help the team win, the team will always support you." 

The unspoken truth of that statement was even more important— 

If you only think about yourself, your teammates will quickly abandon you. Football is a team sport, and no individual can achieve success alone. 

At Ajax, he was surrounded by legends, people whose wisdom had shaped his understanding of the game—Van Basten, Van Schip, Ruud Krol, Van Gaal, Johnny Rep, Ronald Koeman… 

They had shared their experiences, their knowledge, their stories—not just as footballers, but as men who had lived through football's biggest battles. 

And because of them, Yang Yang had developed a deeper, more complete understanding of the game. 

He was no longer just a talented young player trying to succeed. 

He was becoming something more. 

A player who could carry a team. A player who could change a game. A player who could lead. 

... 

... 

As the game wore on, the Brazilian team began to show signs of frustration. 

For a team that carried itself with natural pride, accustomed to dictating play and overwhelming opponents with their technical superiority, being held in check by China was unsettling. 

And as minutes passed, that frustration only grew. 

The Chinese team, bolstered by Krautzun's defensive reinforcements, looked more organized, more determined. 

At the 75th minute, the German coach made another calculated move, substituting Chen Tao, leaving only Yang Yang and Gao Lin up front. 

China was digging in, absorbing pressure, and waiting for the moment to strike. 

Brazil responded with even more aggression, throwing bodies forward, but their attacks lacked precision. Mistakes started creeping into their passing. 

However, the Chinese team struggled to get the ball into the final third—neither Yang Yang nor Gao Lin was seeing enough of the ball. 

Hao Junmin was replaced by Lu Lin, who took up the left midfield position, but the issue remained—the midfield lacked a reliable outlet. 

Yang Yang recognized the problem and instinctively dropped deeper, taking it upon himself to link midfield and attack. 

In the 81st minute, Rafinha received the ball on the right flank. 

Yang Yang, having been positioned centrally, immediately rushed over, pressing the Brazilian full-back. 

Since conceding in the first half, Rafinha had developed a lingering fear of Yang Yang—he no longer dared to take him on directly. 

Feeling the pressure, he hurriedly sent a pass inside, but the ball lacked accuracy. 

China intercepted immediately. 

Lu Lin, positioned on the left wing, took possession and quickly spotted Yang Yang's movement. 

A sharp first-time pass sent the ball into Yang Yang's feet. 

A single touch. A turn. 

And then, he exploded forward. 

Yang Yang accelerated, slaloming past the first Brazilian midfielder. 

For more than two years, he had dribbled every day, refining every movement, every touch, every shift in balance. It had become instinct, an extension of his body. 

Now, as he cut through Brazil's midfield, it was as if the ball was glued to his feet. 

Gao Lin, reading the situation perfectly, made a diagonal run, dragging one defender away while opening a passing lane for himself. 

But Fabio, Brazil's center-back, reacted. 

He stepped across, lowering his body for a challenge, attempting to bump Yang Yang off balance. 

A year ago, that would have worked. 

But not now. 

Instead of being knocked off, Yang Yang absorbed the contact, bracing his frame before powering past Fabio, using his own body to shield the ball. 

Brazil's defensive shape crumbled. 

Panic set in. 

The second center-back, Leonardo, realized he had no choice—he abandoned Gao Lin and rushed toward Yang Yang, hoping to cut him off before he entered the box. 

But Yang Yang had already seen it coming. 

The moment Leonardo committed, Yang Yang shifted his weight, slicing a perfect diagonal pass with his right foot. 

The ball rolled into the penalty area, right to the unmarked Gao Lin at the right side of the penalty spot. 

Before Renan Brito—Brazil's goalkeeper—could react, Gao Lin met the ball first-time, calmly guiding it into the net. 

"GOOOOOOOOAL!!!" 

"GAO LIN!!" 

"A perfect pass from Yang Yang, and Gao Lin makes it 2-1 for China in the 81st minute!" 

Yang Yang let out a roar, his emotions erupting, and leapt onto Gao Lin's back. 

Gao Lin, overwhelmed with joy, sprinted toward the grandstand where Chinese fans were going wild, carrying Yang Yang with him. 

On the sidelines, Chinese substitutes and staff stormed the field, rushing to join the celebration. 

The commentator's voice was shaking with emotion. 

"Fantastic! Absolutely fantastic!" 

"Yang Yang carried the ball nearly 30 meters from the left side of midfield, sliced through Brazil's defense, and set up Gao Lin for the finish!" 

"This goal came out of nowhere! What a moment!" 

"This play fully showcases Yang Yang's incredible talent!" 

Meanwhile, the Brazilian players looked shell-shocked. 

The scoreboard was against them. 

Time was against them. 

Their tournament dreams were slipping away. 

The commentator took a deep breath, his voice choked with emotion. 

"To all the Brazilian fans watching in Utrecht, to the Brazilian National Youth Team—let me remind you—it's the 81st minute. 

There is not much time left for you." 

He paused, his voice trembling. 

"I don't even know how to describe what we're witnessing right now." 

"My thoughts are all over the place—I can't find the words for our heroes today, especially Yang Yang." 

"All I can say is that having a player like Yang Yang is the greatest gift to Chinese football and to all our fans. He is destined to be an unbelievable player." 

The passion in his voice grew stronger. 

"And right now, I feel something... something powerful!" 

"I believe we can win this tournament!" 

"Because with Yang Yang on the field— 

"Nothing is impossible!" 

... 

Yang Yang finally slid off Gao Lin's back, his face lit up with joy. 

He couldn't stop laughing as he embraced his teammates, caught up in the sheer euphoria of the moment. Every player, every member of the squad, joined in the celebration—this wasn't just a goal, this was a moment of history. 

After the wild cheers with his teammates, Yang Yang turned toward the sideline and ran toward Krautzun. 

Reaching the touchline, he threw his arms around the German coach, hugging him tightly. 

A moment later, Gao Lin arrived, gripping Krautzun in a strong, emotional embrace. 

For Gao Lin, this was gratitude—a moment of thanks to the coach who had given him a chance, who had helped him grow into the player he was today. 

For Yang Yang, it was something more. 

He wasn't just celebrating. 

He was making a statement. 

He was using his actions to prove to everyone—the players, the staff, the federation—that he stood behind Krautzun. 

That he believed in Krautzun. 

Yang Yang had always argued that Chinese football needed to learn from the successful youth development systems of European football, especially Germany's structured approach. 

And Krautzun was the perfect bridge, a key figure who could bring real, practical change. 

His ideas, his experience—they were invaluable to the future of Chinese football. 

... 

... 

The Brazilian team had suffered a humiliating reversal, and it showed on their faces. 

They had dominated possession, controlled the tempo, and dictated play—especially in the second half, where their possession rate had climbed to 60%. Yet, despite all that control, they had failed to find a way through China's compact, disciplined defense. 

And to make matters worse, they had been punished for their inefficiency. 

China had absorbed the pressure, waited patiently, and when the right moments arrived, they had struck with clinical precision. 

Two counterattacks. Two goals. 

For the Brazilian players, it was a bitter pill to swallow—a brutal reality check that was hard to accept. 

They began to show signs of distrust, not only in their game plan but in themselves. Their once-fluid passing sequences turned sloppy, and their once-composed movements became rushed and panicked. 

The pressure of the moment began to suffocate them, and with each passing minute, their desperation grew. 

Meanwhile, the Chinese team made their final tactical adjustment. 

After taking the 2-1 lead, Krautzun immediately made a third substitution, removing Gao Lin and reinforcing the midfield and defensive lines. 

It was clear—China wasn't chasing another goal. They were locking down the result. 

Yang Yang now stood alone at the top of the formation as the team's sole forward. His stamina, which had always been a key strength, was being pushed to the limit. 

Even now, in the dying minutes of the game, he continued to run, press, and harass defenders, disrupting Brazil's passing rhythm. 

But this wasn't just physical endurance—this was fueled by pure adrenaline, by the knowledge that they were on the brink of something historic. 

Behind him, the rest of his teammates had formed a solid, disciplined defensive wall, refusing to let Brazil play freely in their half. 

Brazil was struggling. 

They had spent most of the match playing their slow, patient buildup, but now that they needed to increase the urgency, their rhythm was completely broken. 

They weren't used to this. 

Yang Yang couldn't understand it. 

Why hadn't Filipe Luís been brought on? 

A full-back with pace, energy, and attacking intent, he would have provided something different, a player capable of stretching the field and attacking with speed. 

Maybe it was because he wasn't suited to Brazil's possession-based system. 

But whatever the reason, the Brazilian team failed to break China's defense until the final whistle. 

The Chinese team retreated fully, holding their shape with discipline and resilience, and the score remained untouched until the very last second. 

2-1. 

China had beaten Brazil! 

The final whistle blew. 

In the stands, the Chinese fans erupted into song, their voices soaring above the stadium as they sang the March of the Volunteers. 

The five-star red flags waved proudly, a sea of red and gold dancing in the air. 

Yang Yang stood frozen in place, exhausted, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to move. 

He was drained. Physically, emotionally, completely. 

But he didn't care. 

Because they had won. 

They had finally won. 

... 

... 

Yang Yang had beaten Brazil with a goal and an assist, carrying China into the final of the World Youth Championship. The unthinkable had happened. 

Across the world, the news broke like a thunderclap, shaking the foundations of international football. Headlines screamed in disbelief. 

"The second Ronaldo shines in the World Youth Championship—Brazil eliminated!" 

"China stuns Brazil 2-1—Yang Yang claims the throne as the next global star!" 

"Yang Yang proves his worth as the European Golden Boy—China marches to the final!" 

And perhaps the most shocking of them all: 

"Ronaldo: Yang Yang is not like me—he will be better than me!" 

The football world was reeling. The historic upset sent waves of discussion rippling across continents. In every newsroom, sports desk, and television broadcast, there was only one topic—China's stunning victory over Brazil. 

Few had believed in this team, and yet, they had gone through giants, eliminating some of the biggest names in youth football. The unthinkable underdog, a team from a country long considered an outsider in global football, had now reached the final of the biggest youth tournament in the world. 

In France, the highly regarded football newspaper L'Équipe ran a feature on the match, calling it a "textbook example" of modern football triumphing over outdated traditions. 

"On June 28, Brazil's dream of reaching the World Youth Championship final was shattered. And it wasn't Argentina, the heavy pre-tournament favorite, nor was it Spain, the reigning European champions, nor was it one of football's traditional powerhouses that ended their run. Instead, it was a team from Asia, a continent still fighting for its place in football's elite." 

The article dedicated significant space to explaining the rise of Chinese football, putting the victory in the context of China's long footballing struggles. 

"For decades, China lacked the footballing infrastructure to develop world-class talent. While football flourished across Europe and South America, China was focused on survival—wars, economic hardship, and political struggles kept the sport from taking root. Even as China modernized, football remained on the periphery." 

"Only in recent years has China begun to take the sport seriously. The national team's first-ever World Cup appearance in 2002 was a milestone, but instead of progress, the team fell into decline. And yet, this new generation—led by Yang Yang—has suddenly made the world take notice." 

The article pointed out how this group of young Chinese players, with Yang Yang, Chen Tao, and Gao Lin at the core, had already made history before stepping into this tournament. They had defeated France twice in the Toulon Cup, overcome Japan and Iran to win the Asian Cup, and crushed the competition at the Asian Youth Championship. 

"Over the past two years, Chinese football has shown a completely new face. And in this World Youth Championship, they have taken it to the next level." 

But what shocked analysts even more was how they played. 

"Led by German coach Krautzun, this Chinese youth team plays a style of football that is fast-paced, disciplined, and modern—a brand of football that aligns with what is now standard in Europe." 

"Their victory against Brazil was not built on luck. It was built on a tactical blueprint designed for success." 

In contrast, Brazil's philosophy was questioned. 

"The Brazilian team remains rich in talent, but they have become prisoners of their own ideology. They still rely on the individual magic of their players rather than embracing the team as a collective unit." 

"In this semi-final, the Chinese team proved that even with only 30% possession, they could create the more dangerous opportunities—and ultimately, that is what decides games." 

After the match, Brazil's head coach Renê Weber gave his thoughts to the media, clearly frustrated with his team's performance. 

"I told my players that dominating possession is not enough—that they needed to mentally control the game as well. Unfortunately, they failed. They became too focused on their individual performances, distracted by the presence of scouts in the stands, and forgot about the team's collective play." 

His words, meant to explain the loss, only added fuel to the debate. 

Many football experts disagreed with Weber's analysis, arguing that Brazil's true failure was its inability to adapt to modern football. 

"While the rest of the footballing world, including China, has embraced structured tactics—quick transitions, high pressing, defensive organization—Brazil remains locked in the past, dependent on moments of individual brilliance." 

"They tried to win a football match with one man instead of eleven." 

"And they lost." 

Footballing minds around the world were taking a long, hard look at the way the game was evolving, and China's unexpected success had forced the conversation to the forefront. 

This was a moment in history—one that might be remembered for years. 

"Perhaps one day, this match will be looked back on as a turning point in football. A moment when a so-called weak team, using the principles of modern, structured football, showed that it was possible to defeat even the strongest opponents." 

"We've seen this story before. Denmark in 1992. Greece in 2004." 

"And now, in 2005—maybe it's China's turn." 

The debate raged on. Experts discussed tactics, coaches questioned old systems, and journalists sought to find the true significance behind China's win. 

But for the millions of fans who watched it happen, for the Chinese people who had waited decades for a moment like this, the meaning was clear. 

China was no longer just a participant in world football. 

They were now a contender. 

And with Yang Yang leading the way, the world was left with a single thought— 

Maybe, just maybe, they could win it all. 

... 

The report from L'Équipe quickly ignited heated discussions across the footballing world. The shockwaves of China's victory over Brazil in the semi-final were felt far beyond Asia, reaching Europe and South America, where debates raged over the significance of the result. 

In Germany, Bild published a detailed analysis, drawing a striking parallel between Krautzun's tactical approach with China and the direction German football itself had been trying to move toward. The article argued that the structured, high-intensity, fast-transition football China had displayed was precisely what Germany had been aiming to achieve at the youth level. Yet, ironically, it was Germany that had fallen to China earlier in the tournament, failing to execute their own tactical ideals. 

The discussion quickly turned to the failures of the German youth system, with commentators questioning why it was Krautzun, a German coach, who had successfully implemented these principles in China rather than with his own country's team. The article suggested that China's success was a clear sign of the growing influence of European coaching in developing nations, signaling that the footballing hierarchy might not remain the same forever. 

In the Netherlands, De Telegraaf raised serious concerns about the state of Dutch football in light of China's tactical discipline and rapid development. While the Dutch squad at this tournament had boasted talents like Ibrahim Afellay, Ryan Babel, Hedwiges Maduro, Urby Emanuelson, and Ron Vlaar, the team's performances had been far from convincing. 

The Dutch media questioned whether their long-cherished philosophy of "Total Football" needed to evolve, pointing out that China had embraced modern European tactical structures while still maintaining elements of flair and creativity through players like Yang Yang. 

One section of the Dutch report focused specifically on Yang Yang's development, calling his rise an indirect validation of the Eredivisie's role in shaping world-class players. 

His breakthrough at Ajax, his growth under the influence of Dutch football, and his ability to thrive on the international stage were seen as proof that the Netherlands remained an essential proving ground for young talent. However, the report also asked a crucial question: if the Dutch league could produce a player like Yang Yang, why hadn't the Netherlands itself been able to maximize the potential of its own young stars? 

The discussions were not limited to Europe. 

In Brazil, the reaction was one of deep disappointment, even embarrassment. 

The Brazilian media was brutal in its assessment of the national youth team's failure to defeat China, with many outlets calling for self-reflection rather than excuses. 

For decades, Brazil had lived under the myth of its own invincibility, believing that their talent alone would always be enough. But now, after being eliminated by a team they had underestimated, voices from within the country's football community were beginning to question whether that arrogance had become a weakness. 

One of Brazil's largest newspapers called for the nation's footballing institutions to abandon their pride, arguing that Brazil had been left behind tactically while the rest of the world had modernized its approach to the game. 

"The time has come for Brazilian football to put aside the arrogance of being a five-time world champion and reflect deeply on the realities of today's game," one columnist wrote. 

"The world of football has changed. If we do not evolve, if we do not humble ourselves and adapt, then we will fall further behind. China has shown us that with the right system and discipline, even a so-called 'lesser' footballing nation can beat us. What happens when the stronger nations catch up too?" 

The message was clear. 

China's victory had not only shaken Brazil, it had challenged the footballing order itself. 

Europe was watching. South America was watching. The whole world was watching. 

The question now was no longer whether China could produce world-class footballers. 

The question was: how far could they go? 

... 

The overwhelming recognition from foreign media was met with even greater celebration and enthusiasm back in China. The nation was in shock and euphoria—the Chinese U20 team had reached the final of the World Youth Championship. 

This was not just a footballing achievement, it was a national event. 

Across the country, from the bustling cities to the smallest rural villages, streets were filled with heated discussions about the team's remarkable journey. Overnight, football became the number one topic in China. 

Yang Yang's name, already familiar across the nation, was now spoken with even greater admiration. 

Seven goals. The tournament's top scorer. The hero in crucial moments. 

Yang Yang had not only helped China reach the final, but had captured the hearts of millions, giving them a reason to dream of something greater. His performances had turned him into a national icon, and his goals had become a symbol of hope for Chinese football. 

The reaction wasn't just emotional—it was transformational. 

Public opinion exploded, and the national football debate intensified. 

Across major news outlets, television programs, and social media, people were not only celebrating but also asking deeper questions about the future of Chinese football. 

The success of the youth team, combined with the struggles of the senior team, had sparked a serious nationwide discussion about the state of the domestic league, player development, and the importance of sending young talents abroad. 

China's national television station quickly produced a special documentary, analyzing the team's historic run in the tournament. The program's director, Wei Zhen, went beyond simply praising the players—he raised a critical question: 

"Why is it that our youth teams can compete with the best in the world, but once these players move to the senior team, we struggle even against Asian opponents?" 

The question resonated across the country. 

The discussion quickly escalated, catching the attention of the government, which issued an official statement calling for the relevant departments to formulate countermeasures in response to the public's concerns. 

The conclusion was clear and direct—the domestic league was the problem. 

The idea of sending players abroad was no longer just a suggestion—it had become a national consensus. 

And as if fate had perfectly timed it, news emerged that Gao Lin was set to join AZ Alkmaar under Louis van Gaal, and Feng Xiaoting was close to a move to Feyenoord. 

These reports sparked further debate, with the public overwhelmingly supporting the idea that this generation of talented young players must move abroad to develop in stronger leagues. 

The Chinese Football Association reacted swiftly, officially announcing its full support for players in the National Youth Team to move abroad and develop in Europe. 

Faced with relentless public demand, Chinese clubs, who had previously been hesitant to let their young stars leave, now had no choice but to express their unconditional support for their players seeking opportunities abroad. 

At the same time, there was a renewed push for domestic league reforms and youth development initiatives, as everyone—from the media to football authorities—recognized the urgent need to improve Chinese football at all levels. 

One name that had previously been on shaky ground but was now firmly secured was Krautzun. 

Before the tournament, rumors had suggested that the German coach would leave after the World Youth Championship. But now, after guiding China to the final, his future was no longer in doubt. 

Regardless of whether China would win the final or not, his importance to the team was undeniable. 

The Football Association had already begun discussions on how to expand collaboration with Dutch and German football, using both Arie Haan and Krautzun as key figures in a long-term football reform strategy. 

China's football landscape was changing before everyone's eyes. 

And at the heart of it all was Yang Yang, the boy who had set the country's dreams ablaze. 

... 

... 

The Chinese National Youth Team, still stationed in Utrecht, remained unaware of the massive discussions and national upheaval their victory had caused back home. 

After defeating Brazil, their focus remained solely on the final, preparing for what would be the most significant match in the history of Chinese football. 

However, the moment they stepped onto the training pitch the next morning, they immediately noticed a difference. 

The number of reporters, photographers, and television crews had multiplied overnight. What had once been quiet and focused training sessions had now become media spectacles, with journalists from across the world gathered just to watch them train. 

Beyond the press, fans had started to appear in larger numbers, standing outside the fences of their training ground, chanting names, waving banners, and trying to catch a glimpse of the team that had stunned the football world. 

At first, it was manageable, but as the days went on, it began to interfere with their training. The constant presence of cameras, the shouts from fans, and the flashes of photographers became an unavoidable distraction. 

Eventually, the Chinese delegation had no choice but to request intervention from the tournament organizers. Security had to reinforce the training ground, restricting access and trying to control the overwhelming attention. 

Yet, even with these measures, the hotel and training facilities remained under siege by the media. The team could feel the eyes of the world upon them, following their every move. 

And at the center of it all—Yang Yang. 

His rise had already captured China's imagination, but now, the entire world had turned its attention to him. 

With seven goals in the tournament, his stunning performances, and his ability to deliver when it mattered most, Yang Yang had become one of the biggest talking points in world football. His name was no longer just a phenomenon in China—it was on the lips of journalists, analysts, and scouts across Europe and beyond. 

But he wasn't alone in the spotlight. 

Argentina had defeated Nigeria 2-1 in the other semi-final, and their number one star, Lionel Messi, had played a crucial role, providing an assist to send his team to the final. 

And now, the entire world was looking ahead—not just to the final, but to the showdown between Yang Yang and Messi. 

It was a duel of the tournament's two biggest stars, two players being hailed as the future of football, set to meet on the grandest stage of youth football. 

Messi had already earned the title of the "next Maradona", but at this stage, he had yet to make an impact at the club level. In Barcelona, he was not yet a first-team regular, still fighting for his place among the senior squad. 

Yang Yang, on the other hand, had already proven himself on European soil. He had played in the Eredivisie, the Champions League, and the UEFA Cup, going beyond expectations and solidifying his status as the heir to Ronaldo's legacy. 

Individually, Yang Yang had the stronger résumé. He had already been tested at the highest levels, and his performances had lived up to the hype. 

However, football was never just about individual brilliance. 

The difference in team strength was undeniable. While Argentina boasted a squad filled with future stars, China was still the underdog, relying on a few standout players to carry them forward. 

It was impossible to predict the outcome. 

Would Yang Yang's experience, explosiveness, and big-game mentality give China the edge? 

Or would Messi's unmatched dribbling and playmaking tip the balance in Argentina's favor? 

One thing was certain—the final would be decided by their duel. 

And whoever prevailed would lead their nation to World Youth Championship glory.