Sports Medicine Master System-Chapter 127 - 89: You’re Already 32 (2)

Cavagale was one of Spain’s top soccer agents. He represented a stable of players, including names like Raul, but Redondo was the one he valued most.

’He’s only thirty-one. He’s still got years left to play.’

Before Chen Yu could answer, Redondo cut in. "Chen, you don’t have to listen to Jinnis. Whatever the verdict is, you can tell me directly. I know what my situation is."

At thirty-one, suffering a major injury like a torn cruciate ligament... he knew all too well what that meant.

Chen Yu paused for a second. ’Well, you’re certainly self-aware,’ he thought.

’But judging by his tone, is he thinking of giving up?’

’It made sense. A torn cruciate ligament. So many players had been tormented by that one small ligament, only to retire in disappointment. And that was even truer for a veteran like Redondo, who was already past thirty.’

Chen Yu glanced from Redondo to Tawana.

Tawana’s pleading, expectant gaze moved him. The old man had truly seen too much of this, which was why he didn’t want to see it happen again.

’And thinking about it now, his talk about the World Cup probably wasn’t just a casual tangent. It was likely intentional.’

’What a headache.’

Chen Yu rubbed his temples. ’This old man sure knows how to make things difficult.’

But in that moment, Chen Yu made a decision.

"You’re about to turn thirty-two, aren’t you?" Chen Yu began.

Born June 6, 1969. In a few months, he’d be thirty-two.

Redondo froze for a second, then nodded instinctively.

Chen Yu continued, "Then you should know that a soccer player’s prime is usually between the ages of twenty-four and thirty."

Redondo frowned, unsure of where Chen Yu was going with this.

"And you’re about to be thirty-two." Chen Yu set down the film. "At this age, to suffer a major injury like a torn cruciate ligament... and from what I’ve seen, you also have patellar tendinitis, cartilage erosion, and varying degrees of damage to your collateral ligament and meniscus."

"In other words, your knee is a mess."

Redondo fell silent, biting his lip. He said stubbornly, "So what you’re saying is, since I’m about to be thirty-two, I might as well not bother with treatment and just retire."

Chen Yu nodded. "That is one option."

Cavagale’s expression changed dramatically.

Beside them, Tawana was anxiously trying to catch Chen Yu’s eye. He had said so much precisely because he wanted Chen Yu to convince Redondo *not* to give up. And now here he was, telling him to retire?

"Logically, for a case like yours, even if we manage to patch you up, your athletic ability would decline significantly. Then you’d suffer recurring injuries in the same spot, and after all that torment, you’d have to retire within a few years anyway."

Forget being almost thirty-two; even for a twenty-three-year-old, a decline in athletic ability after such a major injury is inevitable.

"But you met me. I healed Ronnie, and I can heal you. I’m talking about a full recovery." Chen Yu’s face was filled with confidence. ’It all came back to the same thought: as troublesome as this torn cruciate ligament was, could it be worse than Ronaldo’s ruptured patellar tendon?’

Cavagale let out a long sigh of relief and gave Chen Yu a speechless look. ’Why does he have to be so dramatic?’

A bright light flared in Redondo’s eyes.

He had seen so many doctors recently, but all of them had told him the same thing: "There’s nothing we can do. Your case is extremely difficult."

Not a single doctor had ever told him with such confidence, "I can heal you. A full recovery."

"However, I have one condition." Chen Yu held up a single finger. "I want you to play in the World Cup next year."

’My psychology skills are half-baked at best,’ Chen Yu thought. ’Trying to persuade this stubborn old mule—a man who defied the media, refused to cut his hair, quit the World Cup, and is now thirty-one—is asking a bit much of myself.’

’Might as well be direct. Tell him straight up: no World Cup, no treatment.’

The other three men in the room were all stunned.

Especially Redondo. He stared blankly at Chen Yu for a long moment, his expression shifting from surprise to rage.

He shot up on his good leg, steadying himself on the table. "Impossible," he said flatly. "I’ve already made it clear that I’ve quit the National Team. There is absolutely no way I’m going back."

Chen Yu just shrugged, his expression saying, *suit yourself*.

"Fernando, don’t get worked up. And Chen, please don’t take offense. We can discuss the World Cup later. Let’s talk about the knee first. In fact, we’re willing to pay double your fee—four hundred thousand US dollars. How does that sound, Chen?" Cavagale snapped out of it and quickly tried to mediate.

Chen Yu shook his head. "I’ve told you my condition. If you’re not going to play in the World Cup—if you’d rather just retire—then for me to go to all the trouble of healing you, at your age and in your condition, would be a complete waste of my time."

Redondo’s fists tightened. He glared at Chen Yu and said through gritted teeth, "If that’s how it is, then I’m sorry, but I don’t need your treatment."

With that, he grabbed his crutch, shook off Cavagale who tried to stop him, and headed for the door.

Chen Yu didn’t try to stop him. Just as Redondo was about to leave, he added, "Think it through. The moment you walk out that door, you’re giving up your soccer career for good."

Redondo faltered for a second, then walked out without a hint of hesitation.

"I’m sorry, Chen. He’s just too emotional. I apologize on his behalf. Wait here, I’ll go talk to him," Cavagale said, hurrying out after him.

Tawana finally snapped back to reality, his hands clasped over his head, a look of utter disbelief on his face.

"Why?"

He couldn’t understand why Chen Yu had done that.

Chen Yu replied, "Weren’t you the one who said his mentality was the problem? That he should play in the World Cup so he wouldn’t have any regrets?"