Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
All of a sudden, Twain was a busy man again. Quite a number of local media outlets in Nottingham — such as television, newspapers and online sources— were lining up to interview him. As a manager who had led the team to advance to the top four in the Champions League for two consecutive years, he deserved this treatment.
Last season, Twain had led the team to advance to the Champions League final. They were still seen as a dark horse, and perhaps some people had sneered that they were just “lucky bastards.”
This year, they had advanced to the top four again and eliminated the defending champion, Barcelona. Perhaps the people who thought that Twain was a “lucky bastard” had nothing to say anymore.
One time could be a fluke. Could twice be considered flukes, too?
There were only a handful of good managers in English history, and the excellent managers were more often from Scotland. In the early days of modern football, the Scots were the first to innovate football tactics when there was little tactic to speak of. The offense was to have the striker dribble the ball in the direction of the goal and then kick it in. The playing was no different from the way a current beginner who could not play football. It was the Scots who changed all it. They reformed the senseless tactic into a constant passing to press ahead, which now looked easy to do. But as American astronaut, Armstrong said when he first landed on the moon: “one small step for man; one big step for mankind.” A simple change had widened the horizons of people engaged in football. Passing became an indispensable technique and tactic in football.
As a pioneer in the football tactical reform, Scotland had not produced any of the world’s best players. Instead, it had churned out many world-class managers. The current Manchester United manager, Ferguson, was Scottish.
The achievements of the English were more limited than those of their northern neighbors. While there were also great men like Herbert Chapman, they were behind the Scots in overall numbers.
Moreover, since the 1966 World Cup, there was basically no true world-class manager in England.
For example, the England team’s current manager, McClaren, was the result of picking the best out of a mediocre bunch. Due to the laughable pigheadedness of the English Football Association and general public, they wanted to look for an Englishman, since they believed that only an Englishman would give his all for his country’s team and would have so-called loyalty. It truly worried them to hire a foreigner like Eriksson who only thought of money.
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“Tony Twain is now the hottest manager in England. Since the Nottingham Forest manager took over the team three seasons ago, he has led the team to be promoted to the English Premier League in a season to and even winning the title in the EFL Cup. During his second season, he steered the team to qualify for the Champions League. In his third season, he commandeered his team to advance into the Champions League final and almost win the title with one player short.”
Twain lay on the couch while he watched the television program about himself, which compared him to the four managers Ferguson, Wenger, Benítez and Mourinho. Although he had only won one EFL Cup title, to be able to lead the team to advance into the top four of the Champions League for two consecutive years was not something that any manager could do. The Argentinian manager, Héctor Cúper, who once led Valencia to the Champions League finals for two years in a row, had cemented his place in the football world despite not getting any of the championships titles in the end.
Twain’s goal was certainly not to end up like Cúper and considered it done by just advancing to the final. This time, he was going to win no matter which team waited for him in the final.
“What interests us so much is that Manager Tony Twain is not even forty years old. Although the European football is currently ruled by young managers, he is still quite young compared to van Basten, Rijkaard, Deschamps and Ancelotti. Furthermore, this young manager always seems to be surrounded by a mysterious aura. Peter Shilton once commented that his mentor, Brian Clough, had a mysterious X-gene. I think Tony Twain may have the same gene. An accident at the sidelines created this young and promising manager…”
A scene on the screen showed Twain standing on the sidelines and directing the game with rich body language, which was entertaining for Twain to watch. He had been just an ordinary fan and now he was a famous person with a television feature on him. Who did not want to be famous?
While Twain was intoxicated with admiring himself on the television, there was a beep and the screen in front of him went dark.
He looked up at Shania, who stood behind him and said, “hey, Shania, give me the remote.”
“Don’t dilly-dally, Uncle Tony. I’ve changed my clothes, and you’re still in your T-shirt and lying on the couch and watching TV?” Shania threw the remote a little further away on the couch, and Toto, the cat, immediately pounced on it.
When Twain saw the scene, he yelped, “is the damn cat in cahoots with you?”
Shania looked on proudly, and then snapped at Twain, “all right, Uncle Tony, you gotta get dressed!”
“It’s easy to change into men’s clothes. Isn’t it just a suit?” Twain muttered as he climbed up from the couch and went upstairs to change.
After Shania, who had already changed into her evening dress, watched him go upstairs, she grabbed Toto to take back the remote control, and secretly turned on the television. The program was still on and she laughed as she watched the high-spirited Uncle Tony on the screen.
Today was a day off after the previous day’s league game. There was a soiree being held by Armani that evening in London. As the model representing Armani, Shania was invited, and she planned to bring Twain along with her. She had spoken to Twain some time ago about improving his image and getting him further from looking like a “country bumpkin.” Shania thought that the soiree was a good opportunity. With the rise of Nottingham Forest’s performance, Uncle Tony’s popularity among the celebrity circles was also growing. When everyone talked about football, they would ask Shania about her “Uncle Tony.” Everyone was aware that there was a young and brash, but handsome and promising manager in Nottingham, England. Furthermore, due to his friendships with Judy Shania Jordana, Clarice Gloria, and the Beckhams, he had a close relationship with the fashion and entertainment circles.
“Shania!” Twain’s voice came from upstairs. “Tie or bowtie?”
“Bowtie!” cried Shania. “I put it on your bed!”
After a while, Twain came down the stairs, dressed in a black suit with a black bow tie around the collar of his white shirt. “I think I look silly. I’ve never tied a bow tie.” He stood on the stairs and opened his arms to show Shania.
Shania got up from the couch. She looked him up and down carefully and said, “you look much better with a little bit of cleaning up.” She nodded her head.
“Like the waiters in an Indian restaurant?” Twain bent slightly. “What would you like to have, beautiful lady? Our chicken curry tastes horrible here. I suggest you try the Kung Pao chicken at the Chinese restaurant across from us.”
Shania covered her mouth and laughed, “A waiter like you will be fired by the boss. We’d better get going, Uncle Tony. Mr. Fasal should be here.”
With that, the sound of a car horn came from outside the door.
“Good timing.” Twain reached out to Shania, “Shall we?”
Shania took Twain’s outstretched hand with a smile, and the two of them opened the door to go out.
Fasal’s car was stopped on the side of the road. When he heard the horn, Dunn opened the door to poke his head out. He saw Twain and Shania, who were about to leave.
“Ah, Dunn, did you record that program just now?” Twain suddenly remembered when he saw him.
Dunn nodded.
“Well done, I knew you’d videotape it. Show it to me when I get back.”
Dunn nodded again.
“In that case, Shania and I will leave first.” He pointed to the car that had stopped at the door.
Dunn continued to nod.
“Do you have something to say?” Twain was peeved with Dunn’s silent manner of just staring at him.
“Goodbye.” With that, Dunn closed the door.
Feeling displeased, Twain was dragged into the car by a smiling Shania.
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“The teeming world of London…” Twain muttered as he looked out at the streets in London. “Compared with this noisy big city, I prefer a small city like Nottingham.”
“The British people do like their countryside.” Fasal, who was driving, said with a smile. “I don’t like big cities either. I have an estate in Scotland. You can come with Shania for a holiday.”
Twain turned his head to look at Shania, and then said to Fasal, “in that case, thank you in advance.”
They arrived at the hotel where the soiree was held during their chat.
The car park was filled with cars and there was a steady stream of cars stopping at the entrance. The invited guests got out, and the cars were driven to the designated parking lots.
Both sides of the entrance were packed with media and eager groupies who rushed over when they heard the news.
“What a spectacle.” Twain whistled.
“An intimate affair is not in line with Armani’s fame.” Shania said.
Someone had already come to the door to open it for them. Twain was the first to get out, and then he stood outside to help Shania out of the car.
When Twain led Shania and appeared in front of the public, the camera flashes started up again after a brief pause, flashing everywhere.
Fortunately, Twain and Shania were both veterans and did not become dizzy because of the sudden light. Shania even smiled to acknowledge the media.
Twain did not smile. He stood beside Shania with a straight face. He did not look like Shania’s companion. If he had worn a pair of sunglasses, he would have looked like her bodyguard.
After waiting for Shania to finish her poses, which took a while, they were ready to go. Then another car came in behind them. Twain was a little interested in who would come next, so he turned to take a look. Unexpectedly, what he saw made him stop in his tracks.
The man who got out of the car was his “old friend,” none other than the Chelsea manager, José Mourinho.
He turned around and saw Mourinho just as Mourinho looked up and saw him.
“Tsk, what a small world…” Twain mumbled softly.
Shania saw this scene, and immediately understood. She said to Twain, “he’s also a signed by Armani, so he’s definitely on the list of invitees.”
“Mr. Armani’s taste is uneven…” Twain said as he reached his hand to walk towards Mourinho.
“Aha, my friend, I didn’t expect to see you here,” he greeted him enthusiastically.
Mourinho appeared unprepared for Twain to appear there. He froze for a moment before reacting. He shook Twain’s hand. In front of the media, both men insincerely greeted each other with smiles as if they were good friends.
While they shook hands, he said in a low voice that was inaudible to the media, “Fancy meeting you here, Mr. Twain.”
“I’m here with Shania. It shouldn’t be a surprise.”
Mourinho looked past Twain and saw Shania behind him. He greeted her with a smile, but this smile was immediately gone when he faced Twain.
“Can you let go of my hand, Mr. Twain?”
“Ah, of course.” Twain loosened his hand and said goodbye to Mourinho with a grin. “We’ll see you later, Mr. Mourinho.”
With that, he turned around and walked towards Shania.
“Your greeting looks fake,” Shania said to him. “Neither of you is a professional actor. I think the media is more than happy to see you guys wrangle here.”
With a grin, Twain held out his arm for her to hold, and then said to her, “Mourinho and I have at least one thing in common, and that is neither of us wanted the media to get what they want.”
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Twain was not interested in things like a soiree. It was Shania who brought him to chat Mr. Armani for a while. As a football fan, Armani was interested in the legendary rocket-like rise of Nottingham Forest, and he certainly was more interested in the manager who created this legend: Tony Twain.
“You’re younger than the Twain I saw on TV, young man,” Armani said with a smile. “You’re also younger than Mourinho.”
“Mr. Armani, the two of them are going to play against each other again soon, in the Champions League.” Next to him, Shania reminded Armani that the two men were competitors.
Armani nodded. “Of course, I know that. I think it is very interesting and I look forward to the matchup between two excellent but idiosyncratic managers. Mourinho is also my friend. I worry about who I should support.”
Twain could only chuckle beside him. He did not know how to answer this question either.
“Just support whoever wins.” Mourinho’s voice sounded from next to him, and Twain turned his head to see his opponent standing beside him with a glass of wine. When he saw Twain looking at him, he raised his glass in acknowledgement.
Was this a challenge? Twain looked at Mourinho and then said, “I also agree with what Mr. Mourinho said. I think whether it’s Chelsea or Nottingham Forest that breaks into the final, there will be a high chance of winning the Champions League. I wonder if Mr. Mourinho agrees?” He picked up his glass and tipped it in return.
“Of course, my team is not in the final to just almost get the Champions League title.”
The air between the two men seemed to crackle with electricity. Any fool could see that the two men did not have a good relationship.
Armani was the one who stepped out and broke the moment. He put his left arm around Mourinho and hugged Tony Twain with his right arm. With a smile, he patted them on the shoulders and said, “no matter who wins or loses, I’m just as supportive. You’re all my friends, aren’t you?” When he said that, the two men could not continue to pit against each other through the air.
Following that, everyone chatted casually for a while before Armani went to greet the other guests, and Mourinho went to look for his friends.
“Men can be so hypocritical. You guys clearly do not like each other, but you still beat around the bush during the conversation.” Shania looked at Twain and smirked.
“What do you know, kid? All gentlemen are like this,” Twain stated as he glanced at Mourinho’s back.
Shania scoffed.
“Getting to know Mr. Armani was the one good thing to come out of today.” Twain retracted his gaze and said to Shania only after Mourinho was completely lost in the crowd.
Shania laughed. “Do you know why I introduced Mr. Armani to you?”
Twain thought for a little bit. “Well, Mr. Armani and AC Milan’s Brazilian star player, Kaka are close friends. Through him, I can get to know Kaka, and in the future if… That’s right! Maybe we can bring Kaka to Nottingham from Milan…” He struck his left fist in his right palm with a look of sudden realization.
“You’re so boring, Uncle Tony.” Shania rolled her eyes.
“Ah, what else can it be?”
“Forget it, I’m not going to tell you. You’ll find out when the time comes!” Shania ignored Twain and turned to say hello to the celebrities she knew.
Twain stood in the middle of the crowd with his glass of wine, looking around. Most of the faces were unfamiliar to him, and Mourinho was surrounded by a group of women in the distance, appearing to be very popular. Twain viciously thought that when they next ran into each other, he would switch to calling Mourinho “the middle-aged and elderly women’s idol.” But he did not know if Mourinho would understand the joke.
Shania were together with a group of girls who looked like models, happily chattering away.
Mr. Armani was greeting his guests, and it looked as if he was friendly and warm towards everyone. This realization disappointed Twain a little, for he thought he was “the special one.”
“A soiree…” Twain picked up his glass and drank the rest of the wine. “…is like a tavern in a fantasy novel. It’s a great place to gather intelligence, meet new people, and encounter old enemies.”
