Chapter 548: Are You Ready?
Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
On the night before the final, Twain did not sleep well, and he had a dream.
Everything in the dream was vague. He only knew that there were a lot of people around him and their faces were mostly blurred. He could not hear the voices clearly as it was noisy all around him. Everyone was talking, but he could not hear specifically what was being said.
The scene was a little chaotic with flickering white lights that flashed intermittently.
Although he could not see the faces of those people nor hear their voices, he knew that they were laughing and looking at him with smiles. They talked and laughed loudly. There were a lot of people looking at him.
In the dream, Twain was a little confused. He wanted to open his mouth to ask but found that he could not make any sound.
— What’s going on here? Who are you people? Where am I?
These were the questions he wanted to ask.
Without waiting for him to figure it out, he found himself flying and then falling into a darkness. His body felt cold and was completely drenched.
He was startled awake.
He got up to find that his back had broken out in a cold sweat. No wonder he felt wet and cold.
The central air conditioner in the room made a buzzing low sound which proved it to be working. Twain grabbed his watch from the bedside table, which read 6:30 A.M.. He wanted to lie down and continue sleeping, but when he thought of the perspiration on his body, he was not sleepy anymore.
His pajamas were damp, and it was uncomfortable to lie down. Twain got up to take a shower.
He was still thinking about the dream in the shower. The dream was indistinct, and he had no deep impression of it after he woke up. He only remembered things like there were a lot of people and the cold and wet feeling.
He suddenly s.h.i.+vered under the hot water.
That scene could not be him getting ready to jump into the sea in front of the media after his defeat, could it?
What an unlucky dream! He opened the bathroom door and spat outside three times.
After the shower, Twain’s body felt dry and refreshed, and he did want to go back to sleep anymore.
He sat on the couch by the window and began to review his tactical notes.
This thick notebook recorded a variety of tactics from the Forest team and the opponents, as well as the strengths and weaknesses of these tactics and the information on how they should be dealt with… and so on. This was what Dunn brought for him, and he learned to use it for his own sake.
The latest page recorded the various tactics that AC Milan had used in the league tournament and in this Champions League. Even though he knew them so well that he could recite them backwards, Twain still took it out to read and pa.s.s the time.
He did not read it for long until he had put it down again. He was a little bothered by the dream.
In regards to dreams, Twain heard the saying “what you think about during the day, you will dream of it at night” when he was very young. That was to say a dream was usually a graphic response to something that one cared about during the day. However, he had not dwelled on the matter of jumping into the sea these few days. He almost forgot it and might not have recalled it if it had not been for the dream.
After he grew up, he had also heard that dreams prophesied certain things in the future. Some people often felt certain situations seemed familiar as if they had gone through it before, perhaps they had encountered it in a dream.
Could the dream be a harbinger that he would fail in the final?
Twain put down the notebook and looked up at the brightening sky outside the window.
He believed in fate but did not believe in dream prophecies.
After he figured out what the dream was about, Twain put the matter aside and looked at the tactical notes again.
He had already thought of a solution.
※※※
Because there was no training the morning of the final game, most players started their day later. Twain had already finished his breakfast before he saw them coming out of the elevator.
Someone even yawned as he greeted Twain.
“Good morning… Ah—”
Twain looked refreshed, and Kerslake yelled, “haven’t you guys woken up yet? Look, you guys are not even as energized as the manager! You can’t play in the final like this. Buck up!”
Twain sn.i.g.g.e.red.
After everyone went in for their breakfast, Twain turned to Kerslake and Dunn. “Looks like they’re all quite relaxed, which is a good thing.”
“Just don’t relax too much,” Kerslake said with a frown.
This was not the first time he had advanced into the Champions League final with the team, but he looked more nervous than Dunn, a first-timer.
Perhaps last season’s defeat was so unforgettable that it had affected his psyche?
No one knew.
Twain chuckled. “I see you’re a little too nervous, David. Relax a little. Do you have any plans for the morning?”
The jump between the two topics was too fast, and Kerslake did not react at first. He stared blankly for a moment before he shook his head. “No plans.”
“How about the three of us go shopping?”
“I’m not a woman. What’s there to shop for?” Kerslake turned down the suggestion.
After breakfast, it was free activity time, and most players chose to stay in the hotel to play billiards and table tennis. They used this form of entertainment to kill time as they waited for the lunch and dinner breaks. After the afternoon break and a simple dinner, they would leave for the final’s venue to prepare for the upcoming showdown.
In order to calm the nervous Kerslake, Twain sat with him in the hotel café and asked for two cups of coffee, while they watched the players played billiards at the side and chatted casually.
Dunn did not show up, and Twain did not know where he went. He did not care about Dunn’s private life.
Twain chatted a lot with Kerslake, starting from the time they worked together in the youth team to the failure of the Forest team’s promotion and their promotion to the English Premier League a year later when they were underestimated by people. Some things felt like good memories when they talked about it.
Twain was thankful for the chat with Kerslake, which helped him sort through the memories of the last few years and made him recall some of the things he had forgotten.
It played a big part in his resolve to win the Champions League t.i.tle.
For those who had nothing to do, the time before the final game was slow, but for those who wanted to play early, this period could pa.s.s by as quickly as running water.
After lunch, the lively café and recreation room quieted down again. There were fewer reporters hovering inside and outside the lobby. It was now the afternoon break, and the Nottingham Forest players all took a nap. Once Kerslake and Twain confirmed that everyone had returned to their rooms, they also returned to their own rooms.
They had to preserve their energy for the evening’s big game.
At the same time, it was the same situation in AC Milan’s hotel. The media could not rest as they had to prepare for the game. They had to prepare two sets of post-match layouts: Plan A was for the victory and Plan B was for the defeat.
Pierce Brosnan frowned as he faced a blank doc.u.ment on his open laptop. It would be easy to write if they won the game because the article would be filled with praise. It would cover everyone in the Forest team, focus on the contributors to the victory and arrange for the live interviews. Then as a Forest fan himself, he would flesh it out with the emotional strokes on the feeling after the victory of the game. Brosnan was best at that sort of article. It would only take him fifteen minutes to write it in one go after the end of the game.
What if they lost?
In fact, he still had things to write about the defeat, such as Tony Twain’s highly-antic.i.p.ated jump into the sea. But the Nottingham Evening Post did not manage to obtain the rights to cover this event, which made the Evening Post’s boss unhappy — he had thought that with the newspaper’s many years of partners.h.i.+p with Twain, they would not be sidelined in the printed media’s right to the exclusive coverage. He did not expect Twain to hand over this matter to Billy Woox to manage. Woox naturally would choose their business partners based on the highest offer and not friends.h.i.+ps. That way, The Sun, which paid the most, became the exclusive print media.
The Evening Post would not be able to cover the sensational event. If they lost, they would fall into an awkward situation — after Twain promised to jump into the sea if they lost, the usual reports about losing would not attract anyone’s attention other than perhaps the Nottingham Forest fans, since people from all of Europe and the world were keen to see the brash, young manager make a fool of himself.
There was nothing better than to see a big talker be dumbfounded.
Brosnan deliberated for a long time but did not know how to prepare the Plan B for the defeat. He leaned back in the chair, looked up at the ceiling and sighed.
Most of the other… No, all the media are furiously getting ready for Plan B, huh?
“The Drowned Rat Tony Twain,” “Will the Gentleman Please Jump into The Sea?” “Lost the Game and Lost at Sea,” “To Jump or Not to Jump? That Is the Question,” “The Sea Is Cold and So Is Twain,” “Look at His Wet Look!”
With a little brainstorming, Brosnan came up with a bunch of headlines. There was a great deal of interest over Twain making a fool of himself. Perhaps. .h.i.tting someone while they were down was the most common base human behavior?
He was a staunch Nottingham Forest fan, even before he decided to become a sports journalist. He was born and raised in Nottingham. Besides Nottingham Forest, there was no other team he would support.
He certainly did not want to see the Forest team lose. If he was just a fan, he would not even entertain the idea of losing, but he was a reporter.
It was customary to prepare two options before the final, which he had to abide by.
After thinking about it for a long time, Brosnan still did not know how to begin. At last he thought of the idea that Twain had told him over the phone.
It sounded more like Twain’s angry words, but now, after Brosnan carefully chewed over his remarks, Brosnan suddenly realized that for it to become the unique version among the sprawling headlines of “Twain’s jump,” it might be the best.
He typed out a line of words on the doc.u.ment:
Nottingham Forest lost again, and we have nothing to say!!
After he finished typing, he increased the size of the words and then pressed send to the editor-in-chief.
Fifteen minutes later, he got a call from the editor-in-chief.
“F**k you, Brosnan!” The editor-in-chief growled angrily over the phone. Brosnan had to move his phone away from his ear. Even so, his voice was still clear and audible.
“This is what you’ve been agonizing for days? I left the entire section for you because I trust you so much and you’re giving me this d.a.m.n thing? What is this? What did your teacher at journalism school teach you?!”
Brosnan put the phone on the table and put it on speaker.
When the editor-in-chief finished venting, he picked it up. “Well, I didn’t tell you in detail what I was trying to do. My mistake. But I’m definitely not skimping on my work. It’s the best plan I’ve come up with after much thought.”
“What the h.e.l.l is this your best plan? A fully blank section, except for this sodding headline!” The editor-in-chief continued to fume.
Brosnan’s phone went back on speaker.
Once again, he waited for the editor-in-chief to finish venting, and Brosnan continued, “remember our headline after the Forest team broke into the final? That was the best selling issue.”
There was no sound on the other end of the line. Apparently the editor-in-chief was also considering the connection between the two matters.
“Sometimes, I think it’s best not to say too much. We can put down everything, but it’s not necessarily what the readers want to see. If… I mean, if the Forest team does lose, I think there are some things we don’t need to tell the readers. If someone jabbers on, it’s only going to annoy them. So, I think it’s best to use that headline and not say anything. They will vent their emotions themselves… And, there will be criticism and outcry everywhere. We won’t get much traction. Being unconventional will get us more readers…”
After his speech, he waited for a while before laughter sounded over the phone.
“I still recall the wet-behind-the-ears, serious kid who had just come here to work and was all about news coverage. I still remember the ‘conscientious editor’ who deleted all obscenities in the article after he got an exclusive from Twain. Heh, I got to say, Pierce, what happened to your former self? And now you know how to spout about attracting readers in front of me?”
Brosnan flushed. It was certainly not his intention, but to survive in this world, he had to do a lot of things that might not be what he wanted.
“But your idea is not bad. I’ll use it! If it doesn’t work, I won’t spare you!”
Brosnan retorted, “do you want the Forest team to lose?”
“Ah… well. We all pray that your d.a.m.ned wonderful idea will never appear on tomorrow’s frontpage.”
After he hung up the phone, Brosnan heaved a sigh of relief and felt a sense of ease at getting the job done. He also hoped that such a great idea would never become a reality, not just about appearing on tomorrow’s frontpage.
But if they really did lose the game, they could be blamed if the headline and content became vicious.
If you really lose the game, even I won’t forgive you, Tony.
※※※
After a light meal in the afternoon, the players were rushed to the bus. They would leave for the stadium to start their warm-up before the game. They had already started their schedule for the game.
On the bus, everyone’s expression gradually became serious as they knew that the time for the final had come. Not many people were in the mood to joke around and laugh.
This was the end of their relaxation.
The team’s hotel was close to the stadium and the road between the two places had regulated traffic control, so they did not encounter any obstacles along the way. They arrived on time at the final venue — the Olympic Stadium of Athens.
Countless fans from both sides had already gathered here. While they waited to enter, they also cheered and applauded the incoming team buses — of course, the AC Milan fans presented boos and their middle fingers to the Forest team bus.
“It’s really buzzing.” Twain commented casually. “Impressive scene…” He thought of the huge advertis.e.m.e.nt that was set up in Houston when Yao Ming joined the Houston Rockets.
Let’s make a scene!
This advertising phrase was really apt and excited him.
Let’s make a scene indeed!
He saw the sea of people outside, but he did not feel nervous at all. Compared to Kerslake’s manner that morning, even Twain could not say why he remained so calm and why he was able to joke with people in light of such an important game.
Perhaps this was destined. He was born for such impressive spectacles.
He liked to be noticed and in the limelight. The more people the better, the bigger the waves, the better.
He liked to get hyped up in front of an audience.
The bus was about to drive into the designated parking lot, and Twain stood up and turned around to the players sitting in the back. Everyone knew he had something to say again. They took off their headphones, stopped chatting, turned their gazes from their phone screens and looked at their manager.
Twain was pleased with the reactions from the players, and smilingly said with his head c.o.c.ked to the side, “see what’s out there?”
Everyone nodded.
“This is a big scene. Are you ready?”