Godfather Of Champions

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

When Real Madrid was awarded a penalty, Shania, sitting in a VIP box of the Bernabeu Stadium, squeezed her hands together before her chest. Lowering her head, she was praying in a low voice, as if she was speaking to herself. Her pretty face was a little pale. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Although her eyes were shut, her long eyelashes were slightly shivering.

"Almighty God, I don't expect my sins to be forgiven. Neither do I want a great fortune. I only hope my husband will stay healthy, forever healthy…"

With her eyes closed, she kept murmuring like that. As to what was happening on the football field, she did not care about it at all. She only wanted her husband to finish this game safe and sound. Whoever wanted to be the winner, just let them be!

※※※

While Shania kept praying, Twain was sitting in the coaches' seats, trying to calm himself down with his head lowered. He could feel how fast his heartbeat was. He had to slow it down. He knew it was already impossible to end the game in ninety minutes.

He still had two substitutes available to use. At the moment he felt fortunate that he had replaced Şahin with Kompany so that the team would have three midfielders. Even if Pepe was penalized with a red card, they still had two center backs. There were enough people on the defensive line.

Real Madrid only had one substitute left to use. They were less exhausted than Real Madrid. Should they make an effort to score a buzzer-beating goal to defeat Real Madrid in the thirty-minute overtime or drag Real Madrid into a penalty shootout?

Twain did not want to curse the referee at the moment. He did not have the time, but of course he would do it some other time. If it were not the goddamned referee, he would be thinking about how to pose for the awarding ceremony. But he would wait until the end of the match. No matter whether he won or lost in the end, he would have to curse that guy anyway. He swore he would not give face to anyone by then to skip the curse. Even if it was Evan Doughty who tried to talk him out of it, he would not be persuaded.

Twain gave it some thought. In the end, he decided to seek to score a goal in the overtime. He absolutely would not adopt a conservative strategy. He wanted to show Real Madrid that even though they only had ten people, Nottingham Forest was still a hard nut to crack.

※※※

After bringing the scores level, Real Madrid's morale increased a great deal. When the game had started again, they dominated the match and did not stop attacking the rival's goal. Since Nottingham Forest was playing ten against eleven, all of them had to go back to the backfield to defend. They even left a thirty-meters-long empty zone space behind, in which Real Madrid could move around freely. They only wanted to continue defending to the last minute of the match.

Nottingham Forest's defense deserved its fame. Although Real Madrid's morale had been boosted, they did not get any chance to score. The five-minute injury stoppage time passed rapidly. In the boos from the audience, the referee finally blew his whistle to indicate the end of the ninety-minute match.

The two teams only had a five-minute break before the overtime. This little time was hardly enough for them to walk back to the changing room. So, they were all resting on the field. The players of both team gathered in front of the coaches' seats of their respective team, enjoying massage and relaxing while listening to the head coach deploying tactics for the extra time.

Nottingham Forest's players sat in a circle, while Twain was crouching at the center of it, looking around.

The players looked kind of exhausted. However, due to the unfair treatment they received, they were also angry, which made their exhaustion less obvious.

"I'm relieved to see you with such faces," Twain said, nodding.

He was right. If he had seen a team of frustrated players, the overtime would be extremely difficult and he would need to change his plan for it. But fortunately, he knew he did not have to do it.

"We only have ten people, but it's all right. This shouldn't be the reason for us to give up the game. I don't believe you want to give it up, don't you?"

"No!" someone responded loudly.

"Who the hell would want to give up the game? I'll show Real Madrid how great we are!"

"Exactly. We'll give them hell!" Twain closed his fist and waved it at his players. "Only thirty minutes left! I need you to do more than defending. Advance a little bit to crack their defensive line. Try your best. Go get them in the overtime!"

"We need new blood on the field. Bentley, you take a rest."

Bentley was unwilling to accept the coach's arrangement, but he could not refuse it, so he just nodded slightly with reluctance.

Moke was called back while he was warming up. This was his first UEFA Champions League final. He was kind of thrilled. Sitting on the ground, he still could not calm down.

"Moke, your job is to give their defensive line a hard time, to make trouble for them. When you receive a pass, if there are gaps ahead of you, try your best to advance. Pass the ball if there are no gaps. You've got better stamina than their Marcelo. This is an advantage we should take good use of."

Moke kept nodding.

Throwing him a look, Twain went on, "If Mitchell is in the penalty area, pass him the ball after advancing. I don't care how you pass the ball, but you must pass the ball to him, a header or a kick, whatever."

Moke kept nodding. If he also stuck out his tongue, he would totally look like a loyal hound.

"On the defensive line, our full backs should assist a little bit less, at least in the first half. Our plan is to continue with the defensive counterattack in the first half of the overtime. Focus on defense. Let Real Madrid attack, so that their energies will be consumed and ours will be saved. You shouldn't let them score any goal in these fifteen minutes. It's absolutely unacceptable. This is the most important thing. You must bear it in mind. Next, in the second half, we'll start to attack. Don't hesitate when it's time to do it. Be audacious. Get more people involved in the attack. Full backs should also penetrate. Don't be afraid to do it. We did practice penalties yesterday… but we don't really want to see that happen. If you can nail it in one hundred and twenty minutes, just do it!"

Twain punched into his palm of hand.

"George and Fernando, you attack in turn in the overtime. Since Nuri was replaced, the task of playmaking will fall on your shoulders."

"Okay, boss," Gago said.

Wood just kept nodding.

The tactics had all been deployed. Twain stopped for a break. Not much of the five minutes was left.

"Okay, guys. This will be the last thirty minutes. The last thirty minutes of the season. We received some unfair treatments just now, but listen to me, for such unfairness, the best revenge is not to attack the referee on the pitch, but to win. Our victory will be a slap in their faces! We can say whatever we want to say when we win. If you want to revenge against them, win the game first!"

"If you feel tired, just gnash your teeth and hold on! I don't want to see anyone give up the ship at this moment. You must know you are a team. Each of you is indispensable in the team. If anyone of you gives up, your teammates will be in big trouble…"

In this moment, Twain suddenly thought of Pepe, who was sent off the pitch due to impulse. Did that mean he gave up before anyone else did?

Twain was gazing at the players before him. Some of them looked exhausted, since they had been running for more than ninety minutes. Forest had one player less than Real Madrid. In the next thirty-minute match, he was sure it would be more tiring for them than for Real Madrid. He was really worried that the team's stamina would not be enough for them to hold on until the last minute.

"Eh…" He smoothed back his messy hair. "Pepe's disqualification was an accident…" He was afraid the other players would put the blame on Pepe. "An unretrievable accident. You remember what I said before the match? Compared to Real Madrid, we are a team. Now the team lacks one person. What should we do? It's very simple." He extended his hands. "You, who are still on the pitch, should run a little more than usual, should do a little more than usual. These extra distances you run over and these extra things you do will accumulate!" Twain closed his hand, as if he had grasped something, and squeezed it with effort.

"We are still playing eleven against eleven!"

His conclusion put everyone hot-blooded. The match had been difficult for them because of the lack of one person, but by then they found their confidence back again. The boss was right. As long as each of us ran a little bit more and did a little bit more, we would be able to compensate for the disadvantage caused by Pepe's disqualification.

What was team spirit?

They were experiencing it right at this moment.

This was what was called team spirit!

Twain looked back at the passage. He saw Pepe's figure there. As expected, that dude did not go back to the changing room. He was still staying close to the pitch, paying attention to everything happening there.

Although his impulse put the team in a very difficult situation, Twain could not blame him. More than that, he had to prevent the team from blaming him, too. Forest must stay together. Otherwise they would not be able to climb onto the peak of Europe. Neither would they be able to achieve the great treble.

Kerslake came up to him, "Tony, it's time…"

Not until then did Twain get to his feet. "Come on, guys. Don't forget you are eleven men… No, twelve… No." It took Twain a second to think. "The coaches' seats, the substitutes' benches, those fans sitting on the spectator's stand, and the Forest's fans who couldn't come to Madrid but are watching this game on TV, we are with you, and they are with you. You have a lot more people than Real Madrid does. What can be scaring for you, guys? It's them who should feel scared!" Twain pointed at Real Madrid's players next to them, who were also getting to their feet one after another to prepare for the start of the extra time.

The players burst out laughing. They had nothing to fear indeed. They felt the influence of the heavy blow caused by Pepe's disqualification had been gone for some time.

"All right. Go onto the pitch to teach them a lesson!" Twain clapped his hands and then walked off the pitch.

He saw Pepe again, who was craning his neck to look towards him. The rule forbade him to go back onto the pitch, not even to the sideline of the pitch. As a result, he could only stay at the entrance of the passage, as sneaky as a thief.

If Pepe had managed to calm down back then, Twain would be the one doing what he was doing at the moment instead.

※※※

After the start of the overtime, Real Madrid's morale was really boosted. They kept attacking Forest. They had had several attempts on goal. It seemed they were still excited about the equalizer. However, Twain was not worried. He was just watching Real Madrid attacking Forest's goal on the sideline.

Nothing was unexpected for him. Overtimes usually go this way — you attack for half of the time and I attack for the other half.

In the first half, Nottingham Forest would focus on defense. They must defend themselves from Real Madrid's attacks. No matter how ugly the game looked, it did not matter.

During this time, Real Madrid never stopped attacking. Once the football even hit the goalpost of Forest. They almost scored a goal.

Another time Ronaldo hit a sharp-angled shot after dribbling past Rafinha. The ball hit one side of the goal net. The entire audience, including those on the spot and those watching the game on TV, mistook it for a goal. Fans were cheering on the spectator's stand. Even those commentators blurted out, "Goal!"

At that moment, Twain felt his heart had stopped beating. Fortunately, then he saw Ronaldo holding his head in hands, very frustrated.

"Damn it…" Twain swore feebly. "What are you excited about? It was only netting…"

In the first half, it was even extremely difficult for Nottingham Forest to advance to Real Madrid's half. Each and every one of Real Madrid was advancing. All of them were attacking Forest's goal again and again under the cheering of the home ground fans.

The fans of Real Madrid on the spectators' stand were exclaiming in one voice, "Illa, illa, illa, Juanito maravilla! Illa, illa, illa, Juanito maravilla!!"

This cheer was supposed to appear at the seventh minute of each game. By then it appeared again at the seventh minute of the overtime. The arrogance of Real Madrid's fans had been obviously gone. They had given up the idea that it was easy-peasy to defeat Nottingham Forest. At the moment, they needed the support from the spirit of Juanito.

Juan Gómez González, known as Juanito, used to be the number seven of Real Madrid. During the seventies and the eighties, when Real Madrid was not playing well, Juanito's spirit was the symbol of Real Madrid. He always fought to the last minute and never gave up. To gain victories, he even had the nerve to kick assistant referees and punch Matthäus… He died in 1992 in a car accident. Real Madrid held a grand funeral for him. The scale of his funeral could be compared to that of a king's funeral. Throughout the history of Real Madrid Club, before him, only the great president Mr. Santiago Bernabeu had a funeral of this level.

At the moment, Real Madrid's fans felt threatened. They knew the enemy they were facing would not be defeated just by great footwork, back heel passes and artistic characters. Premier League teams always have a spirit that can intimidate the rival.

Real Madrid's fans wanted to show Nottingham Forest that artists were not the only thing Real Madrid had and they did not only know fancy footwork. They wanted to show Nottingham Forest that they were hot-blooded as well and they also knew how to fight!

Gago received a pass in midfield, but he did not pass it quickly enough, and Higuaín hauled him down from behind him.

Lying on the ground, Gago raised both hands to signal the referee that Higuaín had fouled. Higuaín had run back fast. Watching him running away, people could recall George Wood easily, because the latter also always turned around and ran away immediately after fouling, without paying attention to the rival's protest.

So, even a nice person like Higuaín went amuck.

The Spanish commentators completely abandoned a fair and justified standpoint which commentators were supposed to have. They kept encouraging and cheering for Real Madrid.

"Go Madrid! Nottingham Forest has a passing error! This is a great chance… Ah! The ball isn't stopped well enough. It goes into Akinfeev's arms directly. What a pity!"

"Only five minutes left in the first half of the overtime… Real Madrid is attacking Nottingham Forest's goal… This is a handball offence! Why doesn't the referee penalize it for handball? This is obviously a foul!"

"George Wood hauls Ribery down. He should get a red card! Even if he only gets a yellow card, he will be sent off! Nottingham Forest's football is so ugly!"

"If Forest wins, I'll have to say such a champion isn't convincing at all. Look at their performance in these ten-odd minutes! They are all defending in the penalty area. Is this the way football supposed to be played? And they are fouling again and again and again… If you want me to describe this match, I would say 'ankle kick, ankle kick, ankle kick, and another ankle kick!' What else is there? Nothing at all!"

"Deliberately hurting people, attacking assistant referees, ugly tactics… If such a team wins UEFA Champions League, it will be an insult to this supreme honor!"

These indignant Spanish commentators almost swore at Twain and called him a son of a bitch.

On the other side, the English commentators felt rather worried for Nottingham Forest. Real Madrid's attack was too fierce, and Twain was doing nothing but defending. What if the defense failed and the team ended up trailing behind Real Madrid? It would be a heavy blow for the team's morale.

"I insist that Forest should fight back properly, but it looks they can't even go beyond the midfield…"

"After all, this is Bernabeu. Twain should not have underestimated Real Madrid's energy in this stadium. Real Madrid has been driven up the wall. Listen to the cheers of their fans on the spectators' stand… What are they screaming? It's Juanito! A famous hard ass in the history of Real Madrid!"

"I'm worried about Tony Twain's heart. Will he be able to stand still facing such attacks?"

In fact, Twain could stand just fine, and even very steadily as well. Real Madrid's attacks were fierce indeed, but Twain had acutely found that few of these attacks were really threatening to their goal. It was what called much cry and little wool.

The first half was ending. If Real Madrid still could not score a goal, they would be doomed in the second half. They had consumed too many energies. And their morale was declining as well.

Twain was wearing a cold smile. He finally heard the referee blow the whistle.

"The first half of the overtime has ended. Tony Twain's heart finally can get some rest! There will be no break. The second half will start right away. To some extent, these are the last fifteen minutes to decide who to win. If neither team can score a goal, we'll see a penalty shootout! Real Madrid was thought to be stronger than Nottingham Forest before the match and they were supposed to win. However, the final has stretched into one hundred and five minutes. I have to admit I'm kind of surprised."

"Forest still doesn't look good to me. Fifteen minutes passed. With only ten people, how much stamina does Forest still have? This is something worth some attention. Michels evidently saw it, too. In the first half of the overtime, every player of Forest was running like crazy to compensate for the disadvantage of Pepe being sent off. By far, Nottingham Forest hasn't lost any goal. It's thanks to its players' hard work. However, they are humans instead of machines. How much more time can they hold on in such an intensive competition? Five minutes? Ten minutes? I dare say as long as Real Madrid continues intensifying their attacks in the second half, Nottingham Forest will crumble sooner or later!"

Without an exception, the commentators were all predicting the second half of the overtime. Not even one of them felt optimistic about Nottingham Forest, with only ten players and exhausted.

Even a tough guy like George Wood took the chance of switching sides to run to the sidelines to ask for water. He looked he had been worn out. His football shirt was so drenched in sweat that it looked as if it had just been taken out of water. He was gasping for air and pouring water into his mouth when he was not doing that.

"George." Twain approached. In order to not draw any attention, he did not stay too close to Wood.

Wood heard the head coach's whisper. He looked back at Twain.

"Eh…" Twain smoothed his hair with his hand. "I've got a question which I've kept to myself for ten years."

Wood tilted his head, gazing at Twain puzzledly. He had no idea what kind of question that could be, or what it had to do with him or the match.

"Eh… Do you remember, that you gave my wallet back to me and it was through that wallet that we knew each other? Okay. What I want to ask is, there was a kid who bumped against me and stole my wallet the day before that day… Any chance that was you?"

Wood's facial expression changed. The puzzle on his face was gone. It was replaced by wariness.

Twain grinned broadly at Wood, waiting for his answer.

The referee must have noticed them. Wood threw him a glimpse and was going to go back onto the pitch. However, before leaving, he did not forget to answer Twain's question, "Yes, it was me."

Then he ran away.

Twain stayed there, watching him running away and laughing. The view of this man and the view of the kid who stole his wallet overlapped. The way he ran had never changed. Even if ten more years passed, Twain was afraid it would still remain the same…

If you had not stolen my wallet back then, would I have missed a talented player as well as the ten years' great life after that?

Robin Hood, a wallet thief… Twain suddenly found what the media said was quite fair — this was a team made up of thieves indeed.

All right then. So, let's steal that trophy in the presence of those eighty thousand people and the television audience of billions of people in a stately manner.

Twain looked towards the "big ears" with a silver glitter, which was placed at the exit of the passage.

His eyes were shining. It was the light of greed.