Football: What Happened To Going To The Nightclub? I Have To Score

Adama Traoré, a product of La Masia and one of the Premier League's future stars known for his incredible speed and strength, felt a mixture of frustration, hopelessness, and numbness.

The scoreboard showed 5-0. There were only 10 minutes left, and his teammates had long given up. If football had a surrender button, Traoré was sure they would have pressed it 15 minutes ago.

On the other side of the pitch, the blue No. 7 was stealing the spotlight—Su Luo. No one even noticed the Middlesbrough players anymore. To the rest of the world, Middlesbrough and Traoré were just background noise.

All people would remember from this day was that Chelsea had won the Premier League trophy again, and it was Su Luo's first title in his debut Premier League season.

Despite being older than Su Luo, Traoré could only face relegation with Middlesbrough, while Su Luo, who could have played in a Champions League final, was on top of the world.

Traoré couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between their careers.

"I started in La Masia," he thought to himself. "I heard that this Chinese kid couldn't even make it into the first team of a Chinese Super League youth academy. And in less than four years, he's now the best in the world. And me? It's been over four years, and I'm about to drop to the Championship."

This was just another Premier League match, but for Traoré, it was an eye-opener—he saw firsthand the level of skill and strength needed to be one of the world's best.

In that moment, he made a vow: even if he ended up playing in the Championship, he would train ten times harder than others and work a hundred times more. He would strive to get as close as possible to Su Luo's level.

Meanwhile, Su Luo was basking in the glory of winning the Premier League. A 5-0 victory meant Chelsea had secured the league title with ease. Manchester City could thrash Crystal Palace 8-0 on the other side, but it didn't matter. Chelsea were champions.

As the game wound down, Chelsea began celebrating with the fans. Every time a pass was completed, the crowd erupted in cheers, calling out the names of the players.

"Cesc Fàbregas!"

"Willian!"

"Mason!"

"Su Luo!"

The applause seemed endless. Stamford Bridge had turned into a grand celebration of live football.

Whenever Su Luo got the ball near the penalty area, the fans roared in unison, "Shoot!" And Su Luo, loving the energy from the crowd, didn't hesitate. Even from 40 meters out, he would take a shot. Whether it went in or not didn't matter—every shot brought cheers and thunderous applause that echoed through Stamford Bridge.

Over at the Etihad Stadium, Manchester City's players were disheartened. They were leading Crystal Palace 8-0, but no one really cared anymore. The final few minutes of the game felt like a chore.

"He's going to win it," De Bruyne sighed.

Jack Grealish knew exactly who he was talking about.

"Let's give it our all next season," Grealish said. "Next season, we'll take the title back."

But De Bruyne's next question hit hard. "Can we win the title just by playing well? We've got 93 points this season, and after this match, we'll have 96. That's an insane total—enough to dominate the Premier League in any other season."

It was true. Manchester City had 96 points—a score that would typically guarantee them the title. But Chelsea already had 103 points, with more games to play.

More than 100 points? It was absurd.

Chelsea's only "cheat code" was Su Luo. Since his arrival in the Premier League, he had shattered records, one after the other, and set them at heights no one else could reach in their lifetime.

Grealish, deep in thought, regretted one thing. "Maybe I shouldn't have taken the oil money and moved to City. I could've been teammates with Su Luo."

He realized now it would be nearly impossible to play alongside Su Luo. Competing against him? Even harder. Grealish didn't even dare think of surpassing Su Luo anymore.

The only players who could still compete with Su Luo were Messi and Ronaldo—for now.

Aguero, overhearing the conversation, couldn't help but share the same sentiment.

"There's no title for us this season. I doubt we'll win another one in the future," Aguero said. He knew that before his retirement, touching the Premier League trophy again was unlikely—unless, of course, he joined Chelsea and played alongside Su Luo.

"Forget it," Aguero thought. "I'm retiring soon anyway. Let the next generation deal with Chelsea."

On the sidelines, Pep Guardiola remained silent. Manchester City had failed in both the Champions League and the Premier League. Their only hope now was the FA Cup final—a small consolation prize.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The referee blew the final whistle.

"The game is over! Su Luo raises his arms in victory!"

"Chelsea are 10 points ahead of Manchester City. With this game, they've won the Premier League title with three games to spare!"

"They've taken the title with an undefeated record, reaching over 100 points!"

"So far, they've gone 35 matches unbeaten—only one draw, the rest all victories!"

"No team in Premier League history has achieved anything like this!"

"And this is the first time a Chinese player has won the Premier League as a key player!"

Zhan Jun's voice was filled with excitement.

For Su Luo, this might just be another league title, but it had been a perfect season. In his previous two seasons at Union Berlin, Su Luo had carried the team on his back, but there had been weaknesses—poor passing, struggling against tight defenses, and sometimes being outclassed by stronger teams.

Now, Su Luo had evolved into a complete offensive player—the true core of Chelsea. No matter the opponent, whether a wealthy club or a powerhouse team, Su Luo led Chelsea to victory after victory.

Except for a strange, referee-influenced match against Atlético Madrid, Chelsea had won every game convincingly.

Absolute dominance over Europe.

Barcelona, Atlético Madrid, Manchester City, Manchester United, Arsenal, Tottenham—they had all been crushed by Chelsea.

Now, only one team remained that could face Chelsea head-on: Real Madrid.

But that was a story for the Champions League final.

Today was a day for celebration.

After the game, the Middlesbrough players quickly left the field, leaving it to the day's stars—Chelsea.

In the stands of Stamford Bridge, fans had already unfurled enormous banners.

"6th Champions!" the banners proclaimed.

Zhan Jun, the commentator, chimed in:

"It's Chelsea's sixth top-flight title in history! This team was relatively unknown until 2004 when Mourinho arrived and led them to their first peak."

"After that, they had periods of ups and downs. They won the Premier League in 2015 but couldn't maintain their dominance... until today, when Su Luo joined!"

"Perhaps this is the beginning of a new Blue Dynasty!"

"Finally, Stamford Bridge has its king!"

As if on cue, the diehard fans in the stands displayed another giant tifo. It showed a portrait of Su Luo in his blue No. 7 Chelsea kit, but with a twist—he was depicted wearing a king's robe and a golden crown.

The words beneath read: "Lord of Stamford Bridge! Our Lord!"

The King of Stamford Bridge. The king of Chelsea fans. Lord Su!

The entire stadium stood in unison, giving Su Luo a standing ovation that lasted for a full minute. The applause was so loud, it seemed to echo beyond Stamford Bridge, across Big Ben, London Bridge, and through all of London.

Su Luo was moved.

He had always felt a deep connection with the Union Berlin fans, considering them family. He wasn't as familiar with Chelsea's fans. In fact, he hadn't even met the head of the Chelsea Supporters' Association yet.

For Su Luo, London was just a stepping stone—a place to level up and make money. His real dream was to lead Union Berlin, a grassroots, fan-owned club, to the pinnacle of European football. His goal was to bring a club that had climbed from the lower leagues, one that never accepted sponsorship, to win the Champions League.

But at that moment, Su Luo felt something different—he felt a sense of belonging at Chelsea.

The fans had already embraced him as their savior, their own.

Not only that, but Mason Mount, along with Azpilicueta, Pedro, and a few other teammates, exchanged winks and pulled out a crown they had prepared in advance.

Before Su Luo knew what was happening, they had placed the crown on his head.

Su Luo was startled and almost shook it off, but Mount quickly warned him:

"Don't bow your head, Su! The crown will fall off!"

"You guys..." Su Luo began, unsure how to react.

He could only play along, joining his teammates in the playful celebration. He had expected a beer bath, not a crown.

In that moment, he could relate to Zhao Kuangyin, the famous Chinese emperor, being draped in the emperor's yellow robe.

After the fun subsided, the Premier League officials set up the podium for the award ceremony.

Even members of the British royal family were in attendance! Prince William himself had come to present the championship medals to the Chelsea players.

"Prince William is about to present the gold medal to Su Luo!" Zhan Jun's voice trembled with excitement.

When Su Luo approached, he didn't bow to Prince William. Instead, he simply accepted the medal and placed it around his neck.

For Su Luo, there was no need to bow.

Prince William wasn't offended. In fact, he smiled warmly and patted Su Luo on the shoulder, speaking in broken Chinese:

"Gongxi, little guy... I like your game! Your performance is amazing! Next season, keep it up!"

Then, switching back to his native British accent, he added:

"By the way, Her Majesty often watches your matches. She's a fan of yours."

The "Her Majesty" Prince William referred to was, of course, the long-reigning Queen Elizabeth II.

Su Luo smiled politely and nodded, replying, "Thank you."

After the brief exchange, the main event arrived.

Chelsea's legendary player, Frank Lampard—who had announced his retirement earlier that year—stepped onto the pitch, carrying the Premier League trophy.

With a smile, Lampard handed the trophy to his old teammate, John Terry.

This moment might not have meant much to casual fans watching at home, but for those who had been Chelsea fans for over a decade, it was emotional.

Lampard and Terry shared a brief, silent glance—no words, just smiles.

Captain Terry, holding the trophy, returned to the front of his teammates, who had been waiting impatiently to start celebrating.

Without hesitation, Terry lifted the Premier League trophy high into the air!

The stadium erupted. Confetti cannons fired, and gold streamers filled the air. Stamford Bridge's sound system boomed with the iconic anthem, "We Are the Champions!"

It was time for Zhan Jun to lead the chant:

"Let's shout together!"

"Chelsea—are the champions!!!"

"Su Luo—is the champion!!!"

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