Godfather Of Champions

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

"Sir, would you like me to translate it for you?" A nice-sounding female voice suddenly rang in Twain's ear.

Twain was startled, and was even more surprised when he looked clearly at the woman who whispered in his ear.

"Clarice!"

The person bent down in front of him with a somewhat intimate posture was indeed Clarice Gloria, whom he had not seen in a long time.

"Hello, Tony, we meet again." When Gloria saw Twain turn his head, she got up and held out her hand to him. Twain could finally not look at the spectacle in her low-cut blouse.

"Why are you dressed so professionally today?" Twain's first words were not to say hello, but to ask about Gloria's outfit.

Gloria laughed. "So it looks like Mr. Twain is gazing here." She deliberately stuck out her chest.

Twain stood up with some embarrassment. He could not be seated while chatting with a lady who was standing, could he? "Can't blame me, Clarice. People's eyes will always unknowingly focus on the most prominent point…"

Clarice sat down with a smile. "Please have a seat, Tony."

Twain followed suit and sat down. "What are you doing here?"

"The AC Milan football club has invited me to…" Gloria pointed to the stadium below, "discuss the matter of making a commemorative feature for Demetrio Albertini. And also because of you, Tony."

"Because of me?" Twain was baffled.

"Remember that special feature I did on you? The people at AC Milan became interested in me because they saw it and they thought of this idea when they wanted to send Albertini a retirement gift. But it's a lot simpler than the film I did for you. My job is to assemble and edit the images provided by the AC Milan club."

Twain grunted. "What a cheap gift." There was one more thing he did not say—as compared to the gift I prepared.

"You're still the same, Tony." Gloria smiled and said, "you always have that arrogant and superior look. It's so annoying sometimes…"

Even though she said it, Gloria did not really find it annoying.

"Do you detest me then?"

Gloria looked at Twain. She could not detest this face. She smiled and shook her head. "No, I've seen too much hypocrisy. I suddenly feel that an egomaniac like you is kind of adorable."

Twain smiled and then found another question. "If you're an invited guest of AC Milan club, why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be in there?" Twain pointed to the main stand. " Why did you come here? It feels like you're being cast out."

"In that case, Tony, does it mean that you have been banished?"

Twain shrugged and said, "I'm not someone who was welcomed by them right from the start, am I? Last summer, I had a war of words with AC Milan. The reason I can still sit here is because Demetrio and I have a good interpersonal relationship. What about you? You don't have a spat with AC Milan, do you?"

"No, I told them I needed a quiet place to be able to observe the game peacefully and prepare for the job. So, I'm here. I didn't think you'd be here, too."

"It looks like we really were destined to meet," Twain said with a chuckle.

Only he and Gloria were currently in this small box, so they could talk freely without any concern for how any surrounding people would view the two of them. The atmosphere was subtle, somewhat awkward and, yet, a little exciting.

When they realized that there were only two of them in the room, Twain and Gloria became silent for a moment. This silence seemed to be an ordeal, and Twain broke it first.

"Well, Clarice… How are you doing in America?"

"Fortunately, my career is going well. I have connections in Europe, and Hollywood needs the European market as well."

"Then I must congratulate you. Are you going to stay in the United States to develop your career for the future?"

"Not really, I'm shuttling between both sides, thanks to well-developed air travel." Gloria shrugged, and then she glanced at Twain with the corners of her lips curled. "Do you miss me, Tony?"

This flirtatious woman! Twain laughed and scolded internally. "Of course, I certainly miss my friends that I have not seen for a long time."

"We're just… friends?"

"If we're not friends, what else can we be?" Twain shrugged. He could certainly hear Gloria's overtone, but the implied meaning was risky. He could not work out whether this woman was serious about him or this was just a harmless joke between friends. Gloria was a clever woman, perhaps too clever. Twain did not like a woman who was smarter than him to share his bed long term. He had a tendency to be a bit of a male chauvinist and did not like successful, career driven women, such as Gloria and Tang Jing, that much.

The difference between these two women was that Gloria was smarter than Tang Jing and knew how to mask her cleverness so that she usually looked less imperious, and more capable of gaining men's favor. Perhaps due to the fact that Tang Jing was younger, she was too sharp and headstrong. While she made herself stand out among the crowd, her brilliance also stung a lot of people who wanted to approach her, so that no one dared to approach her again.

Gloria was really smart enough to see Twain deliberately avoid this topic and did not want to continue. She just pointed to the field and said, "It's starting."

Twain's attention instantly turned to the field. As expected, the middle of the field had been fully prepped. A retractable canopy also extended from the tunnel in the corner of the field. A lot of people surrounded the exit. The live broadcaster had already begun to mobilize the mood of the fans, and then he began to announce the names of those who were famous more than ten years ago and each of them elicited thunderous cheers.

The two people in the box stopped talking and quietly watched as those former heroes returned to the football field.

Albertini was the last to come out, holding his son with a smile and wearing a red and black vertical striped jersey as he set foot on the turf of San Siro once again.

At this moment, Albertini was AC Milan's number 4 again.

※※※

Nothing much could be said about the farewell game. If someone wanted to see a fierce confrontation here, then they came to the wrong place. Just as the AC Milan Football Club had publicized: this was a gathering of old friends.

Therefore, everyone came to play for fun. The most important thing was to play happily. The outcome of the game was secondary. Albertini first broke through the goal of Barcelona's senior team with the free kick he was best at. Then Basten also scored, sparking huge cheers at San Siro.

In the second half, it became a contest between the current AC Milan and Barcelona teams. Albertini still appeared on the field wearing the red and black vertical striped jersey.

When he saw this scene, Twain snorted.

Were Galliani and Ancelotti treating Demetrio as a member of the current AC Milan team? This was truly ironic. Demetrio once begged the club to keep him there. He was even willing to stay as a substitute. But no one met his "lowly" entreaty, and he was heartlessly ejected from AC Milan. Had it not been for Twain, he might have had to go to Atalanta B.C. to end his career and spend his final years in a team in the lower level of Serie A.

And now they did this in the farewell game, which made Twain feel that this was more like a handout. Demetrio had once implored, hoping to spend his final years fighting for this team and yet now he was easily in their grasp with an irrelevant farewell game? Was this respect? How much did that AC Milan jersey currently worn by Albertini weigh on him now? How did Albertini feel inside? Was he thankful to the club for fulfilling his dream at the last moment? But what was the use of this? He was already going to retire! After today, he would never have a chance to put on his favorite jersey again! Did he want to play in an exhibition game, where the outcome of the game did not matter, wearing this jersey?

"For a professional player, it's battle gear, not some fucking 'fashion!'"

Twain was a little agitated. His lips quivered noiselessly as he muttered when he thought about all this. In the end, he could not help but simply say his thoughts aloud. Next to him, Gloria listened with rapt attention.

Gloria looked at the profile of an angry Twain and felt that this man's enraged manner was really charismatic. No wonder his players could be stirred up with a few words from him and play to death.

He never hid his emotions. Whether he was happy or angry, he always showed them. This was very different from the hypocritical men that Gloria came in contact with. They always pretended to be refined gentlemen in front of her, but who knew if their eyes were staring at her legs or breasts? They could even be thinking about how wonderful it would be if they had a roll in the sack with her.

Twain would not be like this. He would admit his innermost dirty thoughts. He could be quite nasty. Therefore, most people did not like him, but Gloria was one of the few people that decided otherwise.

The second half was not over yet, and Albertini was more than twenty minutes away from saying goodbye in front of the fans in Twain's memory. He no longer wanted to watch any further, suddenly feeling upset.

He got up from his seat.

Gloria asked, "Where are you going? Tony."

"I'm sorry I can't stay with you, Clarice. I think it's time for me to go back to Nottingham."

"The game is not over yet." Gloria pointed to below.

Twain squeezed out a smile. "It's not even an important final game where you will not know the outcome 'till the last second. The important thing about this kind of game is not the outcome, but the process." He glanced below. "Moreover, I'm actually quite a… melancholic person. I'm afraid when I see Demetrio say goodbye later, I will cry in front of you. That's not going to work. I want to keep my dignity intact."

Gloria knew Twain was lying about the excuse, but she did not point it out.

"In that case, I'll walk with you." She was about to get up when Twain pressed down on her shoulder.

"It's okay. You'd better get on with your work."

Twain turned and walked out of the door under Gloria's watchful eye.

※※※

Once Twain was out of the door, he did not have the slightest bit of reluctance to leave. He put on his sunglasses and hurried out of the glittering San Siro stadium in the dim of the night. He was taking the last flight back to England. Initially, Albertini hoped they would return to Nottingham together the next morning, but now Twain had changed his mind at the last moment.

While waiting for his flight at the airport, he estimated the game should be over based on the time. Twain sent a text message to Albertini, and then turned off his cell phone, ready to board the plane.

Albertini only read the text message late that night after he returned home. Before that, he had been out celebrating with his friends.

It was very late when he got home. His wife and children had gone to bed. Just as he was about to take a shower, he took out his phone to find a text message.

"I'll head back first, Demetrio. But I'm going to give you a truly exciting farewell game. It's not time to say goodbye to the football field yet! Tony Twain."

Looking at this text message in his hand, Albertini tilted his head and lightly chuckled.

He agreed with Twain's last sentence - it was not time to say goodbye to the football field. I still have half a season left. I bade farewell to AC Milan tonight. I did not say goodbye to football.

Anyway, he was now a Nottingham Forest player and had a contract with the Forest team. He must finish this contract before he said goodbye.

However, he was not going to have a farewell game of his own. Today was enough for him.

He wanted to return the message to thank the boss for his concern, but looking at the time, Twain would be back in Nottingham getting ready to rest. He should just forget about it. He could thank him in person when he returned to the team training tomorrow afternoon.

Albertini put his cell phone on the table and went into the bathroom. His cell phone screen emitted a blue glow in the dim room and gradually faded to dark.

※※※

Albertini guessed incorrectly. At that moment, even though Twain was back in Nottingham, he did not go to rest. He went to Kenny Burns' Forest bar. Since he moved out of his place with Dunn, he had started going back to this bar more often.

"I'm sorry we're closed… Tony?" Burns was surprised to see Twain open the door and enter. "Why aren't you in Milan?"

"I came back early." Twain patted his thighs with both hands.

"Why? You're not interested in an event with so many superstars?" Kenny Burns joked with Twain as he wiped the glasses.

"It's nothing. I just suddenly felt it was unfair to Demetrio. Give me something strong." Twain sat on the high bar stool in front of the bar and tapped the bar with his fingers.

"You're still like that… We're closed for business." Burns pointed to the empty pub.

"If you don't take my money, it won't be business, would it?" Twain grinned.

Burns filled up the glass and pushed it toward Twain. "Sure, you can pay me the next time you're here."

Twain took the drink and downed half a glass of whiskey in one shot.

Kenny Burns took the empty glass from Twain and wordlessly filled it up again for him.

Even though it was late, Twain did not go straight home, but instead came over for a drink, so Burns knew that Twain was looking for someone to talk to. All he needed at this point was someone who would listen and not talk nonsense.

Sure enough, after he downed his second glass, Twain told Burns what he had seen at San Siro tonight, and what he had thought at that time.

"Tony… Maybe Demetrio doesn't think so? Everyone has a different perspective of the same matter. You may hate it but maybe others like it. You think that it was a handout. Maybe Demetrio really appreciates it? While Clough was around, many people thought he was resentful that he had not been knighted by the Queen, but the chief did not care at all. The glory that some people thought was more important than anything else, he felt could not be compared to the joy of winning a game. After passing, the media even speculated that the Queen would award him with a posthumous knighthood. But I have to say," Burns laughed, "the chief would jump out of his grave to refuse."

"You can't change how everyone thinks about something, but you don't have to change your mind because of others. That's all there is to it." Burns took the glass that Twain handed over for the seventh time, but he did not fill it. He set it aside and looked at Twain. "This time I'm really closing up for the night, Tony."

Twain slid off the bar stool. He felt light on his feet.

"Thank you for the drinks, Kenny. To thank you…" Twain burped. He pointed to Burns behind the bar and said, "I've decided to give you a present!"

"I don't need your gift." Burns shrugged. "Just don't forget to pay me for the drinks. This is a small business. It's not easy to make money."

As if he did not hear Burns' words, Twain said to himself, "I will definitely give you a present, a big present!" Standing in the middle of the bar, he spread his arms wide. He stood unsteadily and turned in a circle to keep his balance.

"Hey, you're drunk. Go home. Do you want me to call you a cab?" Burns smiled and looked at Twain, who was showing off.

"Kenny…" Belch. "Do you think… think… the Champions League trophy is worth the few drinks that you gave me just now?" Twain asked as he stared at Burns.

The smile on Burns' face froze when he heard Twain say that.

"You're drunk, Tony."

"No, my head is clear. Bye, Kenny." Twain easily made a turn and walked toward the door. As he walked, he muttered, "one plus one equals two, one plus two equals three, two times three is six, three times three is nine… nine times nine…"

Burns watched Twain leave before he shrugged his shoulders and continued to wipe the glasses.

"He's really drunk…"