Godfather Of Champions

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

On April 22nd, the sky over Nottingham, which had been cloudy for several days, finally cleared. Barcelona, which had been worried about rain, could breathe a sigh of relief now. With the favorable weather, the time to kill Nottingham Forest had arrived!

"The English are good at playing in the rain because it's always raining over their heads." The Catalan reporters liked to joke about such things when they chatted with each other. Compared to the sunny Barcelona, the weather in England was damp enough to make people become moldy.

"As long as the weather is good and the venue is good, victory will definitely belong to us!"

※※※

When the sun shone in the middle of the City Ground stadium, Thompson Isaksson, who had been busy all night, was resting in a seat in the technical area. As a sixty-something-year-old man, working all night was a big strain on his body, but he and his team had finally completed the task given by Tony Twain on time.

His old partner and longtime mate, Glenn Shelvey, stood on the sidelines and looked at the pitch that they had spent the night working through.

"I thought I'd never had the experience of messing up a good piece of field and still have a sense of accomplishment."

Isaksson sat behind him and chuckled.

"Sometimes I really don't know what Tony Twain's brain is made up of. He can always come up with a lot of shady ideas to deal with others. Make the pitch look like a rotten field and let everyone play on this ground… I'm afraid there's not a second manager in the world who will do that."

Shelvey had been muttering lots of words to himself in front of Isaksson, but he did not continue the thread. He pointed to the particular seat he was resting on while he enjoyed what it felt like to be a manager.

Shelvey looked back at him and found that his old mate with a look of enjoyment. Then he noticed the seat.

"How does it feel like to be Tony Twain?" He asked.

Isaksson shrugged, "With no cheering fans and team for me to direct … It feels a long way off."

Shelvey smiled and patted Isaksson on the shoulder, "With those things around, I don't think your heart can stand it!"

"That's true, a manager is under too much pressure. In the previous Champions League game, when I saw Mr. Twain squabble with the fourth official on the sidelines, I felt a little discomfort in my heart…" Isaksson touched his left chest, "I really admire Mr. Twain. He's actually someone who had a heart surgery."

After talking about a few things that had nothing to do with work, Isaksson stood up and looked at the venue, nodding with satisfaction, "I guarantee that Mr. Twain will be satisfied with the pitch. Let's knock off work now!"

"We're done!" Shelvey shouted to the other workers, and then he turned to ask Isaksson next to him, "Are you going for a drink, old chap?"

Isaksson waved his hands and said, "You go with them. I've got to go back to catch some sleep and then come watch Barcelona's exciting performance on our pitch tonight."

"Ha!"

The two men looked at each other and smiled.

※※※

Aaron Mitchell got up early in the morning. Although there was no training on the day of the match, the team had to go to Wilford in the morning and then take the bus to the hotel. They would be on a break until they leave for the City Ground stadium an hour before the game.

During the meal, Mitchell found that his hands were shaking slightly. Was he too excited or too nervous?

He hurriedly found an excuse to go to the restroom and splashed cold water on his head.

After splashing some water on his head, he looked at the mirror to see his look of a drowned rat and repeated over and over again, "Aaron Mitchell, it's just a regular game. Yes, all the games are just regular games. What are you nervous about?" He clenched his fists hard as he tried to see if he was still shaking.

He gritted his teeth, clenched his fists with all his strength, and stared at the man in the mirror as if he was looking at the enemy who killed his father.

After a while, he felt that his body did not tremble slightly for no reason, so he wiped any traces of water on his head and came out.

His father and mother looked strangely at their son and thought the boy's mind was getting increasingly harder to guess.

But today was the match, so it was not good to ask too many questions that would interfere with their son's mood and state as parents. As their son often said, "The form is not something that can be pinpoint. It can inexplicably come and go."

It was not until Mitchell went out the door that his parents looked at each other.

"I feel that our son is a little out of sorts these days."

"Today is the game. He's a little nervous, isn't he?"

"He's not playing. So, what's he nervous about?" As a father, he always held out hope for his son, but he was also a clearheaded fan who knew that Tony Twain could not give his son any chances in such an important game.

"Is he hitting his puberty now?" His father finally murmured.

※※※

When Mitchell hurried to Wilford, his teammates who had made the squad list were almost there. They even joked with Mitchell when they saw him come over, "Were you too nervous to get some sleep last night, Aaron?"

"I slept well, Freddy!" Mitchell shot back.

Looking at his serious expression, everyone laughed. If he was really not nervous, he would not have such an expression.

"Hey, relax, Aaron. The game hasn't started yet!"

"Don't take Barcelona too seriously. It's not as good as your opponents in the training session!"

"Are you saying we're very strong?"

"Of course! Nottingham Forest is the strongest!"

"Remember how you felt during training? It's the same in the game!"

"It's only the Champions League quarterfinals! I play games like this every year…"

"Stop bragging, Freddy. We were absent from the quarterfinals for two years."

"Hey, Aaron. Just imagine for a moment that Barcelona's tallest center back is that kid, Pique, but he's still shorter than you by a head! Then you won't be afraid!"

"Are you talking about Pique? Ah, I know that boy well." Pepe, who had just arrived, stepped in and said, "He's got great stamina, but he's still not quite there yet in terms of skills and awareness. I'm better than him! Unfortunately, he went to Barcelona. Otherwise, if he had been with me, he would definitely progress quickly…" He shook his head with a look of regret.

"I think Aaron's going to be marked by Pique. If you're going to pit body to body and fight hard with him… To be honest, I don't think you'll get the upper hand, Aaron." He then gave Mitchell a word of advice as Pique's ex-partner. "I think you should try to use your own skills…"

"But the boss doesn't want me to rely too much on my footwork skills…"

"Don't be a fool! Techniques are not just about footwork. Your awareness, your positional play, these are all techniques!" Pepe wished he could give Mitchell a knock on the head.

"A high-level technique of tricking an opposing defender away with a positional play can only be grasped by a superb striker like me!" Freddy Eastwood was ruthlessly despised by his teammates for putting on an act of a capable player in front of everyone.

Everyone's comments gave Mitchell the idea, and he was not nervous. Of course, he would think about tonight's game, but he did not feel other emotions other than looking forward to it.

He was certain that he was really ready this time.

※※※

"We got the whole world in our hands! We got the whole world in our hands! We're invincible and ever victorious… Forest, Forest! Nottingham Forest!"

When the lights first came on in the evening, a large group of fans sang out outside the window.

Mitchell's father said goodbye to his wife at the door, and then hung the Forest team scarf around his neck as he opened the door to walk out. He greeted several familiar fans and then began to flow with the stream of people in red. As they continued to pass by the houses and streets, more and more people joined them, like a rushing river, sweeping everything along its way as it rolled toward the sea.

They sang Nottingham Forest's team song as they made their progress towards the City Ground Stadium.

On this night, countless such groups flocked from all directions to the brightly lit City Ground stadium. They did not know each other ordinarily, but at this moment they were all comrades who fought side by side.

The Barcelona fans, on the other hand, gathered outside the City Ground stadium to wait for admission, heavily protected or more likely surrounded by a number of police officers. They were also chanting Barcelona's anthem. Their shouts of "Barça! Barça! Bar—ça!" could be heard from afar. They might be small in numbers, but their voices were not small.

They were more optimistic. In a pre-match interview with the media, they confidently expressed that Barcelona would win the game. "We have Messi! We also have Xavi and the Pale Knight! We have Bojan! We are the best in the world! What does Nottingham Forest have? Tony Twain, Tony Twain, Tony Twain… Where is he now? In the stands! Hahahaha!"

In response, the Nottingham Forest fans began to act like pundits who were familiar with the history of competition between the two teams in front of the cameras, telling the Catalan media that Barcelona had been knocked out twice in the two times they played against Nottingham Forest other than the 2006 final. "What about the championship title? We don't think about that kind of thing. We tell you, tonight we just want to see Barcelona go home in tears to find its mommy! All the champions have to bow down when they face Nottingham Forest. Inter Milan had just lost, and Barcelona will not be an exception too!"

"Even though the game hasn't started yet, I'd like to say… this is going to be a tough game!" The BBC reporter said at the end when he reported back from the scene.

※※※

The buses from Nottingham Forest and Barcelona arrived at the same time, with the distance between the two buses no more than twenty meters, front and back. With the help of a police car to clear the way, they all smoothly made it through the crowded Trent River.

The players filed down from the bus. Some people were still in the mood to wave to the surrounding press and fans and showed confident smiles.

Tony Twain was in the crowd, but he could not follow the team to the locker room. The two inspectors sent by the UEFA watched him at the entrance of the tunnel.

"Hey, Mr. Twain! Can you accept an interview?"

"Manager Twain, I have a question…"

Twain glanced at the two inspectors standing at the entrance, smiled at them, and stopped here to accept interviews from the reporters.

"I'd love to. Do you have any questions to ask?"

"In a game up against Barcelona, you're banned from the game and could not even enter the locker room. I would to ask if this will have a negative impact on your team?"

"There's no adverse effect. My coaching staff are very good, and my players know what they have to do. I'll watch the game like an ordinary fan in the stands." When Twain finishing saying, he pried opened his shirt collar and showed the media what he wore today—there was a red Nottingham Forest home jersey underneath!

He also pulled a Nottingham Forest scarf, also in red, from his suit pocket. He hung it around his neck and looked like those ordinary fans outside.

"In a pre-match interview, Guardiola said he was very glad you couldn't direct the game on the sidelines. What's your take on it?"

"Is he praising me?" Twain laughed and said, "The enemy's fear is my glory. But what I want to say to him is he can laugh all he wants because I'm afraid he won't be able to laugh when the game is over!"

"It looks like you're confident you can win the game. But where did you get your confidence from, Mr. Twain?"

"My team." Twain had a look of pride on his face when he answered the question, "They're the best team in the world."

"All husbands think their wives are the best, don't they, Mr. Twain!" A Catalan reporter raised a different opinion.

Twain glanced at him and noticed the Barcelona badge on the collar of his suit. He was convinced that the man was a Barcelona fan.

"Oh, no, this gentleman. The words of wisdom I've heard is that another person's wife is always good, and only one's own child is the best."

Having said that, he stopped the interview and went straight to the two UEFA match inspectors. He opened his arms as he walked up to the two men and said, "Do you need me to take off my pants?"

The two inspectors looked at each other and wondered why Twain said so.

"To look for any miniature microphones or other high-tech gadgets like a wireless transmitter in my anus."

Hearing him say so, the two inspectors looked as if they ate shit.

"We… We're not in prison here, Mr. Twain." One of them suppressed the surge of disgust to reply.

"Isn't it? I think you two look a bit like the prison wardens." Twain snorted and walked past the two men.

"Where are you going, Mr. Twain?"

"Don't worry. I'm not going to the locker room. I'm just going to the restroom." Twain looked back at them and said, "Are you coming together with me? Don't be shy. I'll be the host. By the way, you can see if I'm going to put any miniature microphones, satellite phones in my anus…"

"Mr. Twain!" One of them finally could not bear it to say, "We just had dinner!"

Twain raised his hands and made an apologetic gesture, "But I'm doing this for your own good. If I really connect with the coaching staff through those high-tech gadgets, how are you going to account for it when you get back, right?"

"I've never seen a coach who would bugger himself for a win in a game." The other man spoke a little viciously. Obviously his prejudices about Twain were deep. Or it could be said that through the little amount of interaction just now, he had firmly become "anti-Twain."

But Twain winked at him and uttered words which completely disgusted him, "I will, Mr. Inspector. I will do whatever it takes to win."

At the time, the two UEFA inspectors simply thought that Twain deliberately made these angry remarks to disgust them. However, it was not long before they knew that everything Tony Twain said was true…

Tony Twain never lied. He would do whatever it took to win.