Guangzhou Evergrande: Inside China's $185M football factory
Rising from the early morning mist like a Disney castle sits the imposing face of what President Xi Jinping hopes is the future of Chinese football.
Evergrande
Football School is front and center in the push to bring footballing
glory to a nation currently languishing in the lower echelons of the
sport.
China's leader has made
no secret of his love for the "beautiful game." He's also made it clear
he wants to see China qualify for, host and one day win, the World Cup.
And in China, what Xi says, Xi usually gets.
Big spenders
Billions
of dollars have been ploughed into the Chinese game in recent years,
most notably in the form of high-profile marquee signings in its
professional league.
The country's transfer record was broken four times
in the space of a month during the close season, as Chinese Super
League teams spent more during the winter transfer window than even
their English Premier League counterparts.
The
likes of Brazilian midfielders Alex Teixeira and Ramires, as well as
Colombian striker Jackson Martinez, stole the headlines as they left
Europe for China in big-money deals. But there's much more going on
behind the scenes.
In addition to buying players, several of
China's top clubs are pumping money into the grassroots side of the game
-- specifically youth football.
But it isn't purely for the love of the game. Experts say it's all about buying favor with Xi.
"To a Chinese billionaire, a few hundred million dollars is a small price to pay," China football-watcher Rowan Simons says.
On an Evergrande scale
In
just 10 months, and at a cost of $185 million, real estate company
Evergrande turned an area of rural southern China into the biggest
football school in the world.
If all
goes to plan, the kids learning to trap and pass a ball today could be
the ones pulling on a first-team shirt and running out at Guangzhou
Evergrande's Tianhe Stadium in a few years.
Sitting
proudly outside the front gates of the school is a 40-foot tall replica
FIFA World Cup trophy -- a daily reminder of the ultimate goal.
Fourteen-year-old He Xinjie left his family in neighboring Fujian province almost four years ago to chase that dream.
"I hope to make it into the national
football team and then make it into the Spanish clubs like Barcelona and
Real Madrid," the slightly-built teen says, with a wry smile. "Or get
into the national team and fight for national pride."
He is one of China's best players in his age group and is here on a scholarship.
Without
it, he'd still be kicking a ball around the dusty streets of his
hometown, he tells us. But he's one of the fortunate ones and has
already been to Spain with the school to play against some of the best
Europe has to offer.
"I feel very lucky," he says, almost embarrassed.
A Spanish flavor
He's
one of 2,600 boys and 200 girls from across the country -- including
Tibet, we're proudly told by our guide -- who live and breathe football
here.
The reason behind his desire to make it to Spain's La Liga soon becomes apparent.
Cries
of "buen pase" and "gol" echo across the 50 pitches. Two dozen Spanish
coaches, the result of a partnership with Real Madrid, bark out
instructions -- instantly translated into Chinese and repeated with
added vehemence.
Unfortunately, for
most if not all of the near 3,000 students here, it's the closest
they'll ever get to playing for the European giants.
After two decades of coaching in Europe, Sergio Zarco Diaz swapped sunny Spain for a challenge in China.
In his four years here, he says the standard has improved dramatically but admits Chinese youngsters have a long way to go.
"What
we notice is the children are at a high technical level but the
greatest difference is tactically, particularly in the decision making
process," he explains.
A costly pursuit
China
has qualified for just one World Cup -- in Japan and South Korea in
2002 -- but it didn't go to plan. Team China went out in the group
stage, losing all three matches without scoring a goal.
It's a problem we saw firsthand. Plenty of huff and puff but not much end product.
Every
Saturday morning all 50 pitches are in use as the school's teams pit
themselves against each other, taking a break from the week's training
and putting their skills to the test.
Prowling the touchline are the Spanish
coaches, their translators in tow. They're drowned out only by the
shrieks of excited parents who take this weekend opportunity to see
their children.
They're paying up to
60,000 yuan ($9,200) a year to send their children here -- slightly more
than the average annual wage in China. Unless you're talented enough to
win a scholarship or some form of assistance, you've got to be wealthy
to come here.
One class in five is
football training, the rest of the time taken up with traditional
subjects. But football is what everyone really wants to do, so even the
non-football classes have a heavy slant towards the game.
"When
I first came here I taught using key football terms," says Zhang Liya,
an English teacher from Beijing. "These kids come from all parts of our
country and their English level is quite different. They say, 'When I
was young I just learned how to play football, but we never had
lessons.'"
For Zhang and her colleagues, teaching comes first -- even if it might not for their soccer-mad students.
"First
we should train the kids to be a good person and how to behave," she
adds. "Then we can train them to be a footballer and maybe eventually
they can be a famous football star."
Traditionally
in China team sports have been of low importance, with parents
preferring to push their children into prestigious professions like law
and medicine. If they did turn to sport, it would be individual events
like swimming or gymnastics.
Investing China style
But times are changing. And football is emerging.
The
investment here is on a scale you'd only see in China. The 50 pitches
are spread over more than 160 acres. They sit alongside basketball,
tennis and volleyball courts, a swimming pool and movie theater, as well
as a gym, library and several canteens. Special chefs have been flown
in from the western Xinjiang province to cater for the dietary
requirements of the region's Muslim players.
Linking it all together are tree-lined avenues, imposing street lamps and grand European-style piazzas.
The
manicured lawns and more than $30 million worth of Southeast Asian
trees, we're told, are all just a few hundred yards from barren
vegetable patches, wooden shacks and potholed roads. At the heart of the
campus is the centerpiece Football Center Building -- a huge
Hogwarts-style mansion, complete with clock towers and spires.
It's
a stark reminder of China's wealth divide, and a not-so-subtle reminder
of the money the country is throwing at its footballing problem.
China is ranked 96, below minnows like Faroe Islands and Guatemala.
The man who oversees things here at the school, Principal Liu Jiangnan, tells us there's definitely room for improvement.
"This ranking is incongruous with China's international standing as a world power," he says.
"In
about four years, Chinese football will definitely see an improvement
and maybe return to be one of the top contenders in Asia.
"And of course, in about 20 or 30 years we will set our sights on the top world rankings."
With the money flowing into Chinese football at the moment, you wouldn't bet against them.
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