Godfather Of Champions

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

Twain ordered a tight seal on the news about Paul Gerrard's retirement. Other than him, Dunn, Kerslake, the team doctor, Fleming, and Professor Constantine, it was not to be revealed to anyone else, even the players and the other staff members on the team. Twain also reminded Paul Gerrard not to announce his retirement until after the Champions League final.

Gerrard understood. It was a critical moment for the team and his personal matters should not affect the team's preparation.

The team would leave for Athens in three days. This time, everyone was present. No one was missing from the entire team of twenty-two players.

The two other players, Kris Commons on loan to Watford and the goalkeeper, Igor Akinfeev, who returned to CSKA Moscow on a loan, both received a red envelope from the Nottingham Forest Football Club containing a ticket to the UEFA Champions League final after they finished their respective seasons.

Twain did not know if the other clubs would send tickets to the players who had been on loan and had not contributed to the team after they reached the Champions League final or a similar major tournament final. He did not refer to the other teams before. He had just thought he should let those players also feel the glory of the team, which was conducive to developing their cohesiveness as a team and was also a means to win them over.

Sure enough, Kris Commons was very happy when he received the ticket. Akinfeev, who was preparing for his vacation in Russia, also called to inform that he would be going to watch the final.

Distributing tickets everywhere before the final seemed to have become customary for Twain.

In addition to having the club send tickets to the two players overseas, Twain personally had a bunch of tickets waiting to be sent as well.

Clarice Gloria in the United States called Twain to thank him for the ticket to the final game. She even said that she would definitely make it no matter how busy she was, for it was important to support friends.

※※※

Michael Bernard had just returned home after he finished his day's work when he heard the doorbell ringing before he could change his shoes.

"Michael," His wife, Fiona shouted from inside the kitchen. "Go and get the door."

"I'm right at the door," Michael replied as he turned to open the door.

A young man wearing a cap with a "FedEx" logo on it stood in front of him and asked, "Mr. Michael Bernard?"

"That's me." Michael nodded.

"Your package." The young man took an envelope out of the bag. "Please sign for it."

Michael took the receipt and pulled out his pen to sign his name before he gave it back. The young man handed the envelope to Michael and left.

Michael opened the outer packaging, and a red envelope appeared before his eyes. It looked familiar because he had gotten the item two years in a row.

Even though it looked familiar, it did not mean that it was not a surprise. Michael was surprised when he opened the envelope and saw a Champions League final ticket fall out. He thought the time had turned back, and today was a year ago.

He bent over to pick up the ticket and checked the date. Indeed, it was for 2007. This means…

That kid has led the team to advance to the Champions League final for two years in a row?

Michael looked up at the ceiling.

The scene that emerged in front of his eyes was the Forest team making it to the Champions League final twenty-seven years ago. Having been away from England for three years, he did not know what the current situation was, nor could he imagine it.

Football…

He had not cared about these things for a long time, and now everything related to football was relegated to his previous memories. He did not watch the games or read news reports about football. He did not even know Nottingham Forest's current ranking in the Premier League. When his old friends from Nottingham made occasional calls, they never spoke of anything related to football or Nottingham Forest.

He was no longer a fanatical fan, but a white-collar worker who worked at an energy company from nine to five daily and lived a simple life of shuttling between home and work.

It had been three years and he was used to it. He did not feel anything bad. Having lost his son, he now wanted to spend time with his wife and make up for his previous mistakes.

He had no other hopes. This was life and living.

Although he thought this way, he still picked up the ticket and looked at it carefully.

The ticket had the striking Champions League familiar five-star logo. It was the same twenty-seven years ago, and it was still the case twenty-seven years later.

People said that the winning teams engraved their names on the glittering championship trophy. He had carved his youth on it.

Shaking the envelope, he found nothing else but this ticket. There was no written note of greetings nor had there ever been a phone call. The relationship between him and Tony Twain seemed to be only left with this one ticket. If the Forest team did not reach the Champions League final in another season, perhaps they would not even have this ticket.

Friends needed to be sustained with care. Close friendships could slowly fade when there had not been any contact for a long time. Michael had no doubt that if the tickets were not sent to him, he would have completely forgotten the manager he had once knew in Nottingham.

Now, the ticket in hand was the witness and maintenance of their entire friendship. It was really fragile…

Michael did not resent that Twain had never called him and said nothing except to send tickets, because he had betrayed the friendship of two people. What was he supposed to do when he was a father who had lost his son?

"Mike, who is it?" Fiona could not help but ask in the kitchen when she did not hear a peep for a long while.

"Ah, just a boring salesman, chattering away. I managed to get rid of him." Michael put the ticket back into the red envelope and put it in his briefcase.

A lousy salesman who did not mind taking great pains to sell him a dream.

— Do you have a dream, Michael?

— We certainly like victory. We'd also want the team to return to the Premier League after this season, we also love to be the damn champion of the league next season and be king of Europe next season!

His hand paused for a moment on the briefcase when he put the envelope with the ticket back in.

※※※

It was the last day before they would leave for Athens, Greece. The team only had a simple training. The training time was not long and not as intense. The players, who tensely prepared for the game, were given a rare break. They were put on a half day of leave by Twain and went back to relax with their families and partners.

Twain believed in a traditional Chinese wisdom, which could play a huge role when it came to coaching a European professional football team.

Tension alternating with relaxation.

Besides, without half a day off, he would not be able to deal with his own affairs.

Another year had passed, and he had made some new friends. He did not have to worry about the many tickets in his hands as he did a year ago. Shania, Fasal, Mr. Armani… These people had received tickets for the Champions League final sent to them by Twain the past few days.

After he put Michael Bernard's ticket in the mail, he only had one left on hand. Thinking back to a year ago, when his Forest team first broke into the Champions League qualifying tournament, he had six tickets in his hand and had no one to give them to, so he took them to Gavin's grave in the end and burnt them all.

This time, he had wanted to give Gavin a few more tickets to keep as a memento but it was not possible.

With his last ticket, he got on the tram heading for the suburbs. On the afternoon before he left for Athens, he came to deliver the last ticket.

Twain bought a bunch of fresh flowers outside the church and wrote "To Dear Gavin" before he came to the small cemetery behind the church with the flowers.

It was always quiet there. He had been here a few times, and there was no one else but himself. However, this time, he saw a man.

With his back to him, that man stood in front of a tombstone.

Twain only glanced at him in the beginning, thinking that perhaps the stranger had come to mourn a loved one, so he did not pay him any mind. But as he walked closer, he realized that the man was standing right where he was going — in front of Gavin Bernard's tombstone.

This was strange. Normally, few people would visit Gavin's rest place. Even if anyone was here, Twain would know that person at a glance. With his head tilted to the side, he scrutinized the man standing there with his back toward him for a long time and was unable to identify him. John was a fat man, and Bill was much thinner than this man. There was also George Wood, but Twain was so familiar with the kid's build that he would never mistake him. Who was this man?

Twain deliberately made his footsteps louder so that the man would turn his head when he heard the sounds.

Twain was stunned in the moment the two men met gazes.

He seemed to be struck by a thunderbolt as he stood in place without reacting for a long time.

Who did he see? Although he was a little changed, it was indeed that person.

He thought he had hallucinated him.

The man standing opposite him looked a little embarrassed and surprised.

The two old friends who had not seen each other for three years were reunited again in a place like this. It was bound to be awkward.

"I'm… not seeing things, right, Michael?" Twain asked when he regained his composure.

Michael Bernard turned around and walked over. "I'm really surprised to see you here, Tony."

"I should be the one saying that. I come here every year, but I'm… seeing you here for the first time." Twain's tone was a little unfriendly as he still brooded over the matter of Michael dumping them and running away.

Michael certainly discerned the implied meaning in Twain's tone, and he smiled bitterly, offering no explanation.

Twain looked at his old friend in front of him, whose face was paler than before. His former beard on his chin was shaved smooth and his hair was meticulously combed close to the scalp using hair gel with not a hair out of place. He wore a pair of black-framed glasses on the bridge of his nose and a stylish black suit, looking like a gentleman.

Twain snorted. "I could hardly recognize you. Are you Michael Bernard, that foul-mouthed fan who used to drink all day in a bar? Congratulations, it looks like your new life in the United States has been good."

"Your acrimonious way of speaking has not changed at all, Tony." Michael smiled wryly again. He seemed to have no other expression other than a wry smile when he saw his old friend.

This remark flummoxed Twain. In truth, he did not want to speak to Michael in this way. But when he saw him like this, he did not know why he could not control himself and spoke meanly the moment he opened his mouth as if he had intended to do so right from the beginning, like he would be very uncomfortable if he did not vent his feelings.

"Consider yourself lucky that I didn't punch you in the face, Michael." When Twain finished, he went around Michael Bernard and put the bouquet in his hand in front of Gavin's tombstone.

Bernard turned and saw him pull out another piece of paper from his pocket — a ticket.

Twain took out the lighter in his other hand and lit the ticket in front of the tombstone.

The two men stayed quiet, staring at the flame, until the flame was about to lick Twain's fingers and he threw the ticket down. The ticket burnt to ashes before it reached the ground. Then a gust of wind blew from the forest and scattered the ashes into the air.

"Every time you receive a ticket, I'll come here and send Gavin one. I burn it — that's how I give it to him." Twain said with his back toward Michael. "How many times have you received it?"

"Three times."

"I have burnt it three times. Six tickets the first time, two for the second time, and the third time… was this one ticket. You see, you've got a whole new life, and I've made a lot of new friends I can send the tickets to. We've all changed." He spread his hands. "But I will certainly leave this one ticket to Gavin."

"Thank you."

The tension between the two men gradually eased.

Twain turned to look at Michael and asked, "Why did you come back this time? Just to see your son?"

"Business trip." Michael replied.

Twain whistled. "What a busy man. Travelling to Nottingham for work?"

"No." Michael shook his head. "I'm going on a business trip to Athens."

Twain froze for a moment and saw Michael reach into his pocket and pull out a red envelope. He recognized the envelope because it was the club envelope with the ticket that he had sent to Michael himself.

Michael pulled the ticket out of the envelope.

"I have resigned from work just to watch the game."

"You're out of your mind!" Twain cried, "What about your wife? Did she agree to this?"

"Fiona certainly won't agree, but she'll agree to my business trip."

"Did you lie to her?" Twain held his head. "You're screwed, your new life is over."

"That's strange, I thought you'd be happy that I came back to watch the game." Michael said without an expression on his face.

"Don't get me wrong, Michael. I want you to come and watch the game but not if you lose your job and deceive your wife. Do you know why I didn't say anything except to send a ticket? I don't even call to persuade you to come watch the game? I was afraid something like that would happen." He pointed to Michael. "It's just a game."

"Just a game?" asked Michael. "I think it's you who got it wrong, Tony. This is the UEFA Champions League final!" He raised his volume, "The last time I saw the Forest team break into the Champions League final was in May 1980. It's now 2007! It's a game that's only come around once in twenty-seven years for me. I can always look for another job. I'm afraid I'll have to wait another twenty-seven years again if I let such an opportunity go… How many more twenty-seven years will I have, Tony?"

Looking at Michael's white hair on top of his head, Twain was silent.

"I'll explain to Fiona. Of course, I'm not giving up on my family, so you don't have to worry about it. Why are you always concerned about someone's wife, Tony?"

Twain punched Michael in the chest. "You ungrateful idiot!"

Then he hugged him. "Should I say welcome back, Michael?"

"Up to you. I'm just back to watch the game and I have to go back to America when the game is over."

"Of course, I don't expect you to stay here. You have your life, Michael. That's good, I hope you don't give up on football, and I don't want you to give up your life. You know that, right?"

Michael Bernard nodded. "I'm not a fanatical fan anymore. I know this a lot more than you do, Tony."

"That's good, that's good…" murmured Twain.

"By the way, I ran into George when I came here," Michael Bernard said, pointing to his feet.

"George Wood?"

"Yes, he was giving Gavin flowers."

As he listened to Michael, Twain noticed that there were three bunches of flowers on Gavin's tombstone and not two.

"Did you guys talk?" He asked.

"No, I nodded to him, and he nodded to me. After he saw that I came, he just turned and left."

Twain thought this was quite in line with George's personality.

"He's a big star player now," Twain said simply.

Michael nodded, "I know. When I arrived, I bought some newspapers and magazines, and the local media wrote about him. He became the captain of the Forest team, was selected for the England team, and even played in the World Cup… I can't believe it."

The two men glanced back at Gavin's tombstone at the same time.

He was George's first fan, and he predicted exactly that George would be a big star player one day but was not able to wait for that day himself.

"I'm grateful that he still remembers Gavin." Michael spoke in a low voice.

"No one ever forgets Gavin." Twain patted this old man on the shoulder and asked, "Since you've been back, have you gone to the Forest bar?"

"No."

"Let's go and have a few drinks together. The old gang will be happy to see you back, even if you're here to just watch the game and go."

With that, Twain pulled Michael along and out of the hushed cemetery.

Three bouquets of flowers swayed gently in the breeze. There were some black spots on the petals from the ashes from the burnt ticket.

※※※

Kenny Burns and everyone were taken aback by Michael Bernard's return. They could hardly recognize Michael, who wore glasses and had changed his outfit. Fat John was the first to rush up and hug him before everyone was convinced that the man standing in front of them was indeed their former leader and brother, Michael Bernard.

"Welcome back, Michael!" Burns handed him a pint.

"Every time Tony sends you a ticket, I say to him 'Don't get your hopes up, that guy's not coming back.' I guess I was wrong, but I'm glad I'm wrong." Fat John said movingly as he hugged Michael. "Michael, we can sing together in the stands again!"

"And show those bastards who despise us!" Skinny Bill added.

Twain stood, smiling, as he observed the reunion of friends. He was no longer angry with Michael. Just like he said, football was football and life was life. Everyone had their path and not everyone could live by football alone.

"I'm so sorry, John, Bill. But I can only come back to watch this game," Michael said apologetically.

"That's okay, that's okay." John shook his head. "One game is fine; it is enough. This is the Champions League final! It's been twenty-seven years and we can watch the Champions League final again together!"

There were not many people in the pub in the afternoon. Most of them were Michael's old friends. Everyone gathered together to hold up their glasses and drink to Michael's return.

When everyone settled down, they then noticed Twain standing next to them.

John turned his head and looked at Twain with a smile on his face, "Hello, Tony. I want you to promise me."

Twain raised his eyebrows.

"Michael had returned after much difficulty. This is the first time all of us are getting together again after twenty-seven years to watch the Champions League final. Do you have the heart to make him come here for nothing?" John looked around, and everyone shouted in succession.

"That's right! If we lose again, we won't let you get away with it, Tony!"

"I don't care what bullshit reason you can have this time. Just don't lose!"

"You must win! Tony, you have said before that a manager who can't lead the team to win the championship title, and secure the victory is f**king rotten! If you lose again, I promise you'll hear shouts of 'rotten' every time you play at home!"

"Champion! We don't accept any results other than the championship trophy!"

"We've f**king waited for twenty-seven years. We're impatient and don't want to wait any longer!"

For a moment, there were all sorts of growls in the pub, and no other sound could be heard.

In the face of these fanatical fans, Twain was not in a hurry to speak. He just smiled until everyone calmed down before he spread out his hands. "Is there anyone here who doubts my desire for victory and the championship title? You've all watched how I went from a rookie to now."

Everyone laughed when he said he was a rookie. It was true that when he first entered the pub for a drink, he was ridiculed by Michael and his men. How would everyone know that there would be a day like that?

"Besides, I have made a bet with the whole of Italy that if I lose, I'm going to jump into the sea. Do you think I'm the kind of coward who can tolerate disgracing myself in front of the enemy?"

Michael suddenly interjected loudly, "Hey, Tony! I am conflicted here. Of course, we want Nottingham Forest to win the Champions League, but we also want to see you jump into the sea. What to do?"

The crowd roared and laughed.

"Stop dreaming, Michael! You can only choose one!" Twain brandished his fists at him.

"Without a doubt, it will be the championship title." Michael shrugged.

"I am like all of you. I do not accept any results other than the championship title. Not before, not now and not later!" Twain waved his fists hard and assumed the stance like how he rallied the players in the locker room. "I'll tell you this. No one can rob what belongs to us!"

Everyone whistled excitedly.

Twain raised the glass in his hand and cried, "don't just drink. Come and have a toast, guys."

Michael raised his glass high, turned to the people in the pub and shouted, "For the championship title—"

John also followed suit to raise his glass and cheered, "For another championship title after twenty-seven years—"

Bill shouted till he was hoarse, "For the king of Europe—"

"Cheers!"