Chapter 59: The Visiting Team, Millwall Part 3
Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
After the three men separated, the coaches and team doctors in the technical area all came to congratulate Twain. It was Twain’s first season as the First Team manager, and he had performed much better than many people had expected. From his team being in the middle rankings when he first took over mid-season to now being qualified for the playoffs, I could definitely be said that Twain had played a large part in it.
The manager was the true soul of the team. A good manager could give a bright future to the team, and a bad manager would only lead them into a dark hell. Tang En obviously belonged to the former. Now everyone on the team was won over by the guy who had been knocked on the head. The disdainful sneers that he had had to endure when he first took over the team, had long since been gone.
The rules of professional football were simple: if you were able to win, you would get the respect from others. Everything else was nonsense. Where did one’s fame come from? What was one’s status? How did one make contacts? They all depended on victories and scores. It was not possible for a through and through loser to have any of these things.
Seeing how people around him had changed their attitudes, and then listening to the thunderous cheers from the stands, Tang En firmly believed that the path he had chosen was correct and that his belief was right.
I belong to this field, and I belong to victory.
The two managers were very relaxed at the post-match press conference because the result of this match was reasonably fair for both teams. The team that needed to play in the playoffs received three morale-boosting points, and the other team was without any ambition. For them, there was no difference between three points and zero points.
Only Pierce Brosnan, who sat in the reporters’ seats and watched the others scrambling to ask questions, found the scene ironic.
On the platform, the two opponents were making jokes and laughing together, flattering each other, and taking turns speaking. Their relationship was so good that it was as if they were old friends who have known each other for many years.
And in some corner unseen by them, the fans from both sides must be waging a blood-boiling war of punching each other out for the glory of their respective teams…
Brosnan did not think that the Millwall fans who had too much to drink, would leave Nottingham empty-handed. He was afraid that even if they had wanted to leave, the equally drunk Forest fans would make them stay, too.
The football hooligans did not dare to fight near the stadium because City Ground’s surroundings were covered with surveillance cameras. But cameras could be anywhere in the City of Nottingham.
A team’s pursuit of victory was for glory, and the fans also gave their best for their team to pursue the same glory. A group of football hooligans fighting with another group of football hooligans was also pursuing glory. Why would the same word have such different meanings and cause such vastly different behaviors?
Even Pierce Brosnan, a true Englishman, could not understand this phenomenon.
Kenny Burns’ Forest bar was as lively as always, even livelier than previous post-matches because the official matches were over for the season. On these occasions, many people liked to have a few drinks in their regular bars and discuss the season that just ended with their friends. And if their team had achieved good results, the bar owners would have to grin from ear to ear.
Even though it was not the first time Tang En and the others had come to the bar, the neighborhood fans knew that Burns’ bar was the favorite place for several Forest coaches. But today was not quite the same. From the moment they appeared in the bar, they had become the focus of everyone’s attention. Everyone was talking about Twain’s magical half season as the acting manager, and everyone who saw him would raise his glass high in his hand and give a toast to him.
Tang En’s pride was greatly satisfied, and he liked the feeling of being the center of attention and the topic of conversations.
When he excitedly announced that he was buying drinks for everyone that evening, the atmosphere in the bar reached its climax. Everyone was praising Twain’s generosity and talking about his achievements. People who had a few too many drinks in them were comparing him to Brian Clough.
That was the lively environment when the door was suddenly slammed open and in came a discordant sound that clashed with the joyous atmosphere. The intruders who rushed in naturally became everyone’s focus.
Was it Mark Hodge again? Tang En was thinking that it was a pity that Michael was not here. Then he looked up, and all he could see was a pudgy belly.
“Hey! John!” Tang En stood up with his glass raised and loudly mocked the fat man. “Look at you, all sweaty and pathetic-looking! Are you being hunted down?”
His words amused the other people in the bar.
“Where’s Michael? You two are always together.” Tang En looked at the door, but no one else came in. “If he didn’t have cute little Gavin, I really would have to wonder if there wasn’t something going on between you two.”
Taking big gulps of air, John, who was panting, gradually recovered. He leaned his big body on the bar counter, lowered his head, and weakly interrupted Twain, “Tony, Gavin had an accident …”
“April 1st is over, John.” said Tang En with a grin.
John did not answer him, but just kept gasping with his head down. Even in the noisy bar, his breathing was very loud. Tang En stood before him, with a drink in his hand, and his smile slowly faded.
Because of what he heard. It was not a gasping sound. It was the sound of crying.
