Chapter 80: The Reception Part 1
Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
After tossing and turning in bed the entire night, Tang En was still considering that question—should he stay in Nottingham Forest?
…What were the pros and cons of leaving or staying, what kind of effect it would have on his future, how it would impact his life, and whether success would be guaranteed if he were to move to a new city and start again…
These questions circled in his mind, making him feel distracted. It was as if his brain had become an old computer that would always stop responding for a period when he was dealing with those tedious problems.
When dawn came the next morning, Tang En still had no clear answer. He hated making detailed plans for his future and was not good at predicting his own fate. He had avoided such multiple-choice-type questions as much as possible in his past 26 years, and now he could avoid them no longer.
Yesterday, he almost impulsively blurted out, “I have decided to leave Forest!” in front of Edward. As the saying went: “If there’s no place for me here, there will be a place for me somewhere.” But after one night, Tang En hesitated when that initial anger from the deep sense of abandonment gradually faded.
At this point, it would be so nice if someone could counsel him and recommend something from an objective point of view. Or even if no one could give advice, someone to just listen to his troubles would be nice.
Tang En climbed out of bed and planned to start a new day, even though he did not know what to expect of that new day.
He had just finished washing up in the bathroom when he heard his cell phone ring in the bedroom.
Could it be another club that had taken a liking to him and wanted to talk to him about managing their team? Feeling uncertain, Tang En ran back to the bedroom and answered the call from an unfamiliar number.
A female voice said, “Mr. Tony Twain?”
“Ah, it’s me, I’m Twain. Who’s calling?”
“Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Barbara Clough, Brian Clough’s wife.”
“Oh!” Tang En immediately changed his tone and even unconsciously straightened his body. “Mrs. Clough. What can I do for you?”
“Don’t be so nervous, child,” Mrs. Clough laughed on the other end of the line. “Do you have any plans today?”
Tang En shook his head without hesitation. “Nothing, ma’am. I’m free all day.”
“That’s great. Brian would like you to accompany him to the League Managers Association’s reception.”
He did not understand why the old chap would suddenly want to bring him to a reception. They had not had any form of contact since he had visited Clough. But the experience of that day had left a deep impression on Tang En. He knew that the old chap did everything for a reason.
“It would be my honor to do so, ma’am,” Tang En quickly replied with a nod. “Would you like me to pick up Mr. Clough at your place?”
“Oh, no. There’s no need. Nigel will pick you up in his car. They know where you live. You just wait at home. I think they should almost be there.”
As soon as Mrs. Clough finished, Tang En heard the honking sound of the car horn from outside. He pulled open the bedroom curtains and saw a white Ford sedan parked down the road.
“Oh my God! Look who’s sitting in that car!”
“It’s Brian Clough! How long has it been since he last showed up?”
“Hey, Clough, how’s your health?”
“I heard that you’ve just recovered from a liver transplant. Will you please… can you open the window and accept a brief interview?”
The reporters near Tang En’s house suddenly became excited after they saw the car appear, and their camera flashed repeatedly around the white Ford sedan.
Tang En saw the scene from his bedroom on the second floor. Without Mrs. Clough telling him, he already knew who was sitting in the car.
“Yes, ma’am, they are here.”
“Well, go on, child. I hope you’ll have a good time.”
“Thank you, Madam. You have a good day, too.”
Tang En hung up the phone and threw a jacket on as he ran down. To be invited by this legend to participate in the reception… it would be a lie to say that he was not secretly pleased. At this point, Tang En admitted he was as happy as a child who had been brought to the playground by his parents as a reward for good grades. As for what he should choose for his future, he had already put it in the back of his mind.
Opening the door, Tang En slightly calmed himself, and then strode toward the car.
When the reporters saw Twain come out, they immediately pointed their cameras at him, and there were some who wanted to ask him questions. But Tang En did not give them the chance. He quickly got into the car and closed the door tightly.
The old man sitting next to him reached his hand out and said to him, “I am very glad to see that there will soon be a second Fleet Street near your place.” Fleet Street was synonymous with the British media, because all the British newspaper corporations and television stations were once concentrated on that street in central London. Of course, now with the relocation of many media companies, the street was no longer such a place.
A middle-aged man sitting in the driver’s seat laughed. Tang En could not see what the other man looked like, but he knew that this man was Clough’s son, Nigel.
Tang En was a little embarrassed. He reached out and shook hands with Clough, and then Nigel turned around, smiled, and shook his hand. “Nigel Clough. Nice to meet you.”
The reporters outside the car pressed their camera shutters in a frenzy to take pictures of these three men together. Even though they did not know why Clough had come there to meet Tony Twain, they could always use these photographs for something.
Seeing the enthusiastic crowd outside, Brian Clough held Twain’s hand again and gestured to him to face the window and smile. Tang En did not understand why he had to do so, but he did it anyway. This roused the media again, and the flashes made Tang En a little dizzy. But when he was about to crease his brows, the old man said to him, “Smile, son.”
With their faces smiling, they just shook hands and gave the reporters a full minute to take their pictures. Then Tang En looked at Clough in puzzlement.
The old man gave a wry grin. “During my time, the press was like this too. You have to learn to make use of them.” Then he knocked on the back of the driver’s seat. “Let’s go, Nigel.”
The reporters gave way to the car. It looked like they were still quite afraid of Brian Clough. As Tang En was watching the reporters holding their cameras, he repeatedly thought about Mrs. Clough’s parting words to him.
The League Managers Association was unfamiliar to Tang En, as if it were a new firm suddenly emerged from some dark corner. But in fact, this was an influential organization in the English football world. Founded in the 1990s, it was the only official representative organization of the football managers in England.
This union was divided into two different associations—the executive board and the non-executive board. The difference between the two was the responsibility for specific management matters. Brian Clough was the Vice President of the non-executive board, along with Sir Bobby Robson. And the President of the non-executive board was Kevin Keegan, who was less experienced and younger than they were. The Chairman of the executive board, responsible for specific management matters was Howard Wilkinson, and the Chief Executive was John Barnwell. Dave Bassett, Sir Alex Ferguson, and David Pleat were all committee members of the executive board.
The members of the League Managers Association were mostly managers and assistant managers of the 92 football clubs, as well as the managers who had been laid off for less than a year. Based on this condition, Twain could still be counted as a member of the League Managers Association.
This reception was not simply for everyone to get together to drink and chat—although there would be drinking and chatting. There was another reason to gather everyone. First of all, it was to congratulate Sir Alex Ferguson who had just won the Manager of the Decade in the Premier League 10 Seasons Awards. Secondly, it was to congratulate the Everton manager, Moyes, on being elected and awarded with the 2002-03 LMA Manager of the Year by the League Managers Association.
Nigel took his father and Twain to the reception at Sheffield, said he would pick them up at two o’clock in the afternoon, and then drove away. Tang En was a little surprised by this.
“Isn’t Mr. Nigel coming with us?” On the way, Tang En had heard that Nigel was a manager, too. However, he was only part time, as he was also a player for the team he managed. He had led his Burton Albion team and won the Southern League Cup in the 01-02 season.
Clough shook his head. “He’s only a player-manager of a non-league team. He’s not eligible for this reception. Besides, he’s busy with his own matters. Let’s go.”
The reception was held at a small hotel bar on the second floor. Tang En was dazzled when he followed Clough and stepped through the door. He saw many people who he could only normally see on television screens, mingling and chatting with their glasses in their hands in the reception hall. At one point, the England National Team Swedish manager, Eriksson, walked past him to the most central part of the room where most people congregated.
His gaze followed Eriksson and found that this England National manager’s target was Ferguson, surrounded by a cluster of people!
These were all the big-name managers!
But Tang En’s heart rate did not increase, his mouth was not dry, and he was not tongue-tied or weak in his hands and legs. Because the real world-class manager was standing beside him.
A red-faced old man with silver hair welcomed Twain and Clough when he saw them come in through the door.
“Brian, how’s your health? I heard you had a liver transplant at the beginning of this year.” He spoke with a strong voice, and his movements were vigorous, which were completely incongruent with his aged appearance.
Clough slightly shrugged his shoulders. “I think the old boss up there, God, doesn’t want me to come up yet.”
The silver-haired old man chuckled and turned his gaze to Twain, who stood beside Clough. “Mr. Tony Twain, I’m glad to meet you.”
“I’m also very pleased to meet you, Sir Bobby Robson.” Tang En respectfully extended his hand to express his respect for that famous English manager.
“I heard that you had some trouble recently. Do you need help from the League Managers Association?”
Tang En did not know which “trouble” Robson referred to. He deliberated for a moment, then he decided not to talk in riddles with the manager and pretend to know when he did not. So, he asked, “I’m sorry, Sir. But which trouble are you referring to?”
Robson laughed again. “I forgot you have more than one trouble!”
A waiter holding a tray came up and stood next to the three men. Robson took a glass of red wine for himself and then got a glass of whisky for Clough. Tang En hesitated for bit before he chose a whisky for himself.
With a drink in his hand, Clough was more animated than when he first stepped in. He said to Robson, “I think we should suggest that the association set up an annual Most Unlucky Manager award, and you can then personally hand the first trophy to him.” He pointed at Tony Twain with the glass in his hand.
This time, Tang En and Robson laughed together. In his first meeting with Clough, Tang En had experienced this old Englishman’s humor during conversations, and now he became the target of his humor. But he felt very happy. Why? Because it meant that Clough treated him as one of his own people.
After laughing, Robson said to Twain, “Stan Collymore was a good footballer, but not a good manager. I don’t understand why the new chairman of the Forest team chose him.”
“It’s very simple: because Doughty, that old man’s son, is an American.” Clough shrugged and said, “Bobby, do you expect those Yankees to understand our sport?”
Although the topic of their discussion was related to him, Tang En seemed to be more like an audience. He could not quite interrupt the conversation between the two football bigwigs. He stood beside Clough as if he were the boss’ personal assistant—if Clough were to take off his suit jacket, he would surely have had Tang En hold it for him.
He did not mind holding his jacket or helping the manager with little things. But he disliked the feeling that somehow, he was being excluded. So, he decided to express his opinion. After all, they were discussing his business, weren’t they?
“Um, thank you for your concern, Sir Robson. But I think maybe it’s time for me to have a change of scenery,” said Tang En who pretended to be light and easy.
Clough did not follow up on Twain’s words. He brought his drink to his lips, but he was looking blankly ahead at the spot where most people were. No one knew what was on his mind. Tang En did not know, either. There was a momentary awkward silence between the three men.
