Godfather Of Champions

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

When the three whistles rang out, in large and small pubs across Nottingham city, beer splashed in the air. The cars in the streets honked thunderously. When they stopped, the drivers and passengers leaned out of the car windows to yell.

"Champion! Champion! We're the champions!"

The celebration in Nottingham joined in the celebration at the Olympic Stadium of Athens.

The Forest players on the field raced, cheered, and gave incoherent interviews. The media seemed to surround the Forest players like flies around a cake, as they stuck out cameras, video cameras, and microphones.

As the team's manager and the biggest architect in creating this victory miracle, Twain was surrounded the largest number of media.

Twain ignored them. He ran straight onto the field to celebrate with his own players and embrace everyone. He was speechless. He was so excited that he did not mind the media filming and surrounding him, so much so that he forgot the first thing he had to do after the game was to shake hands with the other manager.

When he came to and remembered, Ancelotti had already left.

"Manager Twain! Manager Twain! Can you give a simple interview?"

"How does it feel to win, Mr. Twain?"

"Damn bloody fantastic!" Twain burst out laughing. He felt like the happiest person in the world. The incessant flashes of light made him dizzy.

Is it true? I'm the manager who picks up the UEFA Champions League trophy?

I'm not dreaming, am I? I'm this half-baked manager and I have become the king of Europe?

Are you sure this isn't FM 2007? I'm not playing a video game? A scene that I used to only see on a TV screen, and now I've experienced it firsthand…

My team really became a European champion?!

He ran aimlessly back and forth on the field. Wherever he ran, he was followed by a large group of reporters.

He saw Eastwood kneeling on the ground, sobbing, so he ran over.

"Hey, what are you crying about, kid! You should be happy, we're the champions!" He laughed loudly.

"I'm just really happy, chief!" Eastwood turned his head and saw the chief standing next to him, and saw the large group of reporters behind the chief, with cameras and video cameras in their hands facing them… The Romani hurriedly wiped his tears and stood up from the ground. "Chief, you're like a giant turd surrounded by such a large swarm of flies everywhere you go!"

"Hey! Freddy, you're a legendary striker now. You have to take care of your image in front of the media! You did a terrific job with your goal that locked in the victory in the Champions League final!" When Twain finished, he clasped Eastwood in his arms with a bear hug.

※※※

Maldini looked at the man in front of him, and the other man looked at him as well.

"Hey, are you going to apologize to me?" he asked.

The other man shook his head.

"I want to swap jerseys with you."

Maldini was a little surprised as he did not expect Demetrio Albertini would make such a request.

"Aren't you going to give me a retirement present?" Albertini took off his jersey and handed it to Maldini.

"You already took away the championship title and you still asked me for a present…" Maldini muttered as he took off his jersey and gave it to Albertini.

"Did you really decide to retire just like that?" Maldini asked after he swapped the jerseys.

Albertini nodded. "I'm tired and content. I can't think of any reason to keep playing."

Looking at his old friend, Maldini could not get angry even if he wanted to.

He himself had already played in AC Milan until he was thirty-eight years old and enjoyed all kinds of accolades. For Demetrio, who was faithful and loyal to AC Milan like himself, but could only wander elsewhere… this championship trophy might perhaps be AC Milan's best compensation for him, right?

Maldini looked up at the podium. He even wondered if the Forest team could still break into the final and win the game if Demetrio was not in the Forest team?

Unfortunately, there were such things as ifs on the football field.

Albertini turned his head to look behind him. The Forest team members had gathered hand in hand as they got ready to thank the Forest fans in the stands.

He said goodbye to Maldini. "I've got to go… Eh…"

"Call me when you're back in Milan." Maldini waved.

Albertini nodded. "I'm sorry, Paulo…" He said in a low voice as he turned around to run off.

※※※

The Forest players waited for Albertini to run over before they held their hands together to rush toward the Forest fans in the stands.

As they ran toward the front of the goal, everyone dived en masse to slide on the ground.

Thunderous cheers rang out in the stands.

The players stood up and clapped to show their thanks.

Twain was surrounded by the reporters in the middle of the field for an interview. His mind had calmed down and he was convinced that he was not dreaming, and that he was indeed a champion manager.

Dunn was pulled aside by Tang Jing alone in a secluded corner for an exclusive interview. As an assistant manager who had won the Champions League title for the first time, Dunn had many areas which she could hype up for the coverage. The other Chinese media surrounded Sun Jihai. Although the Chinese player did not play for a minute and only sat on the bench for ninety minutes, it was enough for the Chinese media to be excited for several days.

This was the first Champions League won by a Chinese player!

Twain found the Italian photojournalist who had secretly snapped his hand gesture among the press. He was the culprit who had caused everything to blow up. If he had not snapped that picture and printed it in a deliberate misrepresentation, how could he have promised to jump into the sea if he did not to win?

Meeting his again as a victor, Twain would not give any face to this man.

"Hey, isn't this that Italian photojournalist? What about it? Are you here today to raise your hands in surrender to me? Alas, it is a shame. If we were in a battle, I would execute you immediately as a prisoner of war, lest I should waste any food on you. Our army takes no prisoners."

His words caused that Italian photojournalist's face to turn pale and then red and not know what to do with his hands.

Twain swept his gaze across the crowd in front of him, where he saw a number of Italian reporters. At the thought of the behavior of the Italian media before the game, he could not suppress his disgust within.

"I'd be happy to answer your questions. But I also have my terms before that — I don't accept questions from any Italian media or Italian reporters. I don't understand your lousy English." He shrugged his shoulders and opened his hands.

The Italian reporters initially thought that Twain would be receptive due to his good mood after he had won the championship title. They did not expect him to be so unforgiving. For a moment, they looked at each other and did not know what to do.

"You have no right to do so!" An Italian reporter shouted in proper English.

"I do too!" Twain roared in reply. "I'm the champion now! You're the ones who begged for an interview, not me! If you don't like it and don't want to interview me, I'd be happy to go back to rest!"

With that, Twain departed.

"I've never seen a manager as ungracious as you, Mr. Tony Twain!" The Italian reporter cried in annoyance at his back.

Twain stopped in his tracks and turned around to face him, "You're right, Mr. Reporter. I don't have manners, and I don't care what you Italians think of me. I don't mind you describing me as Mussolini in the papers. You can slam me for refusing to accept your interview in the newspapers published tomorrow, and you can say that I despise the whole of Italy. Do you want to add a photo of me sticking my middle finger up at you as a postscript to capture more readers? See how considerate I am to you. I even provided you with such a great topic to hype. Why do you still want to interview me? You're not going to get nice words from me. Why don't you go to comfort the losers instead of hanging around me?"

With that, Twain turned around again and hurried away, and a group of people hurriedly surrounded him.

"Mr. Twain, Mr. Twain, we are not the Italian reporters!"

"Yes, that's right. I'm Spanish. I have nothing to do with Italy!"

"I'm an English reporter myself…"

Twain answered the media's questions as he walked along. He fully enjoyed the privilege of being a champion.

The group of Italian reporters who were ditched were mind boggled. They had never seen such an ungracious champion… Who the hell was he? What was he thinking? How could he be so vindictive? What gave him the right? Was he not afraid of the media slamming him? Did not he care about his personal image and reputation?

They thought right. Twain indeed did not care what the Italian media thought of him or would slam him for. He did not care at all about his image and reputation among this group. He only felt responsible to the Nottingham Forest fans. As long as the Nottingham Forest fans liked and loved him, it was enough. He did not give a hoot about the English media in England. The Italian reporters' English counterparts had a deep awareness of this point.

※※※

The interview on the field did not last long, and all the Forest players returned to the locker room to change into the t-shirts that the club had specially prepared for the victory. They were red with a golden number "3." There were lines of gold letters above and below the number:

"CHAMPION

NOTTINGHAM FOREST"

The podium was probably being set up outside, so the players did not have to rush out. They continued to celebrate wildly in the locker room.

Armed with bottles of champagne, the players fired corks at each other.

Twain had just finished the interview, pushed the door to enter and was drenched from head to toe by several sprays of champagne. The photojournalists, who followed behind Twain and intended to photograph some footage inside the team's locker room, were also hit. There were liquid marks on the camera lens.

Everyone burst into laughter when they saw clearly that it was the boss who came in.

"Welcome, our champion manager — Tony Twain!"

Everyone lifted up the bottles in their hands and moved closer to Twain as if they were going to pour down his head. Twain, who was caught off guard, hurriedly asked Kerslake for help. "Help me, David!"

In spirit of brotherhood, Kerslake stepped forward and on the chair, which made him taller than everyone else. He raised his hands to signal for the crowd to first calm down. "Listen up. Listen up, guys!"

Everyone put down the bottles in their hands for the time being and looked at their assistant manager.

"You've all listened to the manager's instructions more than once, haven't you?" he said to the crowd as he stood on the chair and pointed to Twain.

"That's right!" The players nodded.

"It was him who had instilled spirit and faith in you!" Kerslake raised his volume and swung his arms wider.

"Yes!" Someone shouted in reply.

"Let's make a toast to him together. Follow me and say: Damn Tony!"

"Damn Tony!" the players roared loudly.

"We need your damn motivation!"

"We need your damn motivation!"

"We're a bunch of mad dogs which bravely charge forward, frothing at the mouths as we… utterly defeat our opponents!"

The players roared as if they were really mad dogs.

"Defense is what we live for!"

The defensive players cried in succession, "Wipe out our opponents! Shovel and overturn them!"

"Attack is what we do!" Kerslake waved his arms and shouted rhythmically.

"Score! Score! Score!"

"I say, guys! What do we live and die for!!" Kerslake raised his arms and asked aloud as he looked up.

The players, whose emotions were completely stirred, stood on their chairs and brandished their fists as they looked up and roared, "victory! Champion! Victory! Champion!"

Twain looked on at the side with a grin. When he saw Kerslake suddenly turn his hand and pointed at him as he growled, "Now, let's thank the man who gave us the championship title!"

With that, he took a bottle from someone else, twisted it open, and poured it over Twain.

More players rushed up and poured the champagne onto Twain.

"Drink to your fill in celebration!"

"F**k!" Twain wiped the champagne from his face before he was finally able to see the people in front of him.

After the players pranked their manager, they went on to prank on each other.

Twain pulled Kerslake and had to wipe his face with his suit. "Damn it, David. Your words were so stirring just now! If I had a bottle in my hand, I'd pour it on your head too!"

"I learnt that from you, Tony!" Kerslake belly laughed.

Watching the group of shirtless players running around in the locker room, Twain remembered something. He clapped his hands and cried loudly, "all right, all right, guys! Change your clothes, go out and receive the prize. We've made AC Milan wait twice!"

※※※

Indeed, the podium had been set up a while ago. Since the winners had not arrived, the award ceremony could not be carried out.

The frustrated and dejected AC Milan players had to wait amidst the cheers of the Forest fans until their opponents appeared in the tunnel.

Twain came out with a group of radiant and extremely excited players. When the victors emerged, the atmosphere in the stadium climbed another level.

"Tony! Tony! You did just as you said you would!"

"Champion! We're the champions! Nottingham Forest is the champion!"

Shouts erupted in the stands as all the Forest players stepped onto the podium in these sounds.

The first of the proceedings was the runner-up award, and the Forest players did not care about this part of the process. They continued their unbridled revelry on the field and indulged in the celebration.

This was when Twain finally found a chance to shake Ancelotti's hand.

The two men said nothing as there was nothing to be said. Silence was the best policy. They parted after a simple and brief handshake.

Then Twain stood aside and quietly watched as the runners-up came on the stage to accept the silver medals. He knew that the AC Milan players would not be able to accept them in their hearts, just like him last year. He had been so angry that he tossed the silver medal he had just received to a young ball boy. These people obviously would not do anything as shocking as he did, because the AC Milan players were well-behaved and all typical professional players who fit in with their chairman's standards.

So what if you're unwilling now that you are the losers? Just like we were last year. There can only be one champion and one winner in the world of football. History is written by the victors, just like football.

Gattuso went up to accept the silver medal with a dark expression. As soon as he came down, he tucked the silver medal into his pants. Only the lanyard swung outside.

You're in a bad mood, aren't you?

In fact, the matter is simple. Want to improve your mood? Try to defeat us next year!

The last one to take to the stage to accept the award was Ancelotti. When he accepted the silver medal, he even chatted with the UEFA president, Johansson. It could be seen that he was not in a good mood. Then he went off with the silver medal.

Once AC Milan had accepted their medals, the stadium, which was quieter, suddenly rang out with singing.

It was the Forest team's turn.

The Forest players, who were still bouncing and singing, calmed down for a while and lined up under the podium as they got ready to go up to accept the gold medals.

Everyone went up one by one, accepted the gold medals from Platini, shook hands, and then stood on one side as they waited for the final moment to arrive.

Twain was the second last person to go up and receive the award. Platini was the one to give him the prize and not Johansson. Twain did not want to have anything to do with these officials. He had just wanted to take the gold medal and stepped aside. After all, everyone was waiting for the highlight at the end.

However, Platini stopped him. "Tony." He spoke in English. "You embarrassed us last year."

Twain knew what Platini referred to. He laughed drily. He did not intend to apologize for that.

"But you've surprised us all this year. No one, including me, thought that you guys could break into the final, and beat AC Milan to win the championship. None of your opponents were weak…"

"Did you all arrange it?" Twain asked in return

Platini did not say anything. He just smiled.

Twain also knew he could not have said "Yes, these were all arranged by us." He turned around and walked to his players.

Albertini stepped on the stage. Even the AC Milan fans who stayed behind gave him a standing ovation.

The Forest teammates who waited on the stage also applauded him and whistled.

Albertini walked up to Platini, and the Frenchman patted him on the shoulder and said in Italian, "any compliment to you is unnecessary, Demetrio. You've done what a lot of people can only dream of. Congratulations, Demetrio!" He hung the gold medal around Albertini's neck.

Then he turned around and picked up the glittering silver UEFA Champions League trophy.

"Now, it belongs to you!"

Albertini took the trophy from Platini. He took a deep breath as he lowered the trophy slightly before he held it high.

Countless red ribbons floated down from above the roof of the stadium, while gold ribbons shot out from the rear of the podium. The night sky was lit up in red by fireworks.

"Congratulations to Nottingham Forest! Congratulations, Nottingham Forest! They are the champion of the 06-07 Champions League! A truly worthy champion!"

Meanwhile, the Queen's classic We Are the Champions broadcasted over the Olympic Stadium of Athens.

As the song played "We are the champions, we are the champions of the world," the other players swarmed to lift Albertini, still holding the trophy, high up and carry him on their shoulders.

Twain raised his head. Under the red fireworks and colorful ribbons, the glittering silver trophy was beautiful.

This is not a video game. This is reality!

He clenched his fists.