Godfather Of Champions

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

Twain was lying on the big bed at home. He was awakened by the morning sun.

"Good morning, champion manager."

Shania laid next to him, drawing circles on Twain's chest with her hair.

Twain squinted his eyes as he looked out of the window at the bright white sunshine and groggily asked, "What time is it?"

"9:47." Shania glanced sideways at the small alarm clock placed on the bedside table and continued to play the game of drawing her hair around on Twain's chest.

Twain watched Shania play the game on his chest, and felt a warm feeling rose within his heart.

This was the most important person in his life, so he could not hide this matter any longer.

"Jor."

"Hmmm?" Shania was a little surprised, and she stopped her hand movements as well. One must know that although "Jor" was Shania's official nickname, Uncle Tony rarely called her by that name. He had always called her by the name "Shania" since they first met.

"Have you thought about where we're going for the holidays?"

Shania recovered her composure and continued to draw her circles as she said, "We can go to Brazil. Anyway, the World Cup is being held in Brazil and you have to do the commentary for the games. We can also visit my parents on the way, and then we'll do our own fun things after. After which, you can go do your commentary and I'll head to America." Shania had already arranged for the future plans to be formed.

"That's a good idea." Twain also agreed with Shania's arrangement. But he still had a question, "So what about after the World Cup?"

"Huh?" Shania stopped what she was doing again and looked up at Twain. "Don't you have to be back in the team then? Your team starts to gather on June 20th…"

Twain smiled and watched Shania without answering. The more Shania spoke, the more she felt that something was off. Then she did not go on and stared at Twain, which implied -"Do you have anything you want to tell me, Uncle Tony?"

Twain reached out and gently rubbed his hand on Shania's head as he said, "Well, my contract with the club is soon going to expire and I'm not going to renew my contract with the club." His tone was calm, as if he was talking about something very common.

Shania's reaction was not calm at all. This time she directly pushed her body up from the bed with both hands, opened her mouth, and stared wide-eyed at her husband in front of her.

"I'm going to have a lot of time to spend with you." Twain smiled and spread his arms wide open to draw Shania into his embrace.

Shania laid on top of Twain's chest and still trying to make sense of it. She said "This… You're not lying to me, are you, Uncle Tony?"

"Today is not April Fool's Day." Twain pretended to be angry.

"Well… why are you doing this? You've just won the Treble for the Forest team…" Shania still did not understand. It was reasonable to say that having just won the Treble, this should be the peak of Uncle Tony's career. How could he choose not to renew the contract at this time? "You're not going to another team, are you? Like Manchester United or something…"

Twain continued to laugh, "Did I not just say that I'm going to have more time to spend with you?"

Shania turned her head sideway over so that she could see Twain's eyes as she asked, "What's the reason? I don't understand why you choose to resign at this time."

"Firstly, I can have more time to be with you. Secondly…" Twain hesitated for a little while before he continued, "Allan Adams and I have a contradiction. It's a contradiction that can affect my work. But he and the chairman have a good relationship, so obviously I have to leave on my own."

Shania knew that her husband was at odds with the marketing manager. When Allan Adams forced his way in to sell Lennon, Twain came home angry for several days, which caused Shania to worry for a long time for fear of the provocation to his heart. As a result, she did not have a good impression of the man. The reason was adequate enough that she no longer doubted that she was dreaming, or that Uncle Tony was pulling her leg.

"If you want to resign, just go ahead and resign. My Uncle Tony is the greatest manager in the world, and the people who want to hire him can line up from London to Paris." Shania held her chin with both hands as she laid on the bed with both her feet swaying behind her.

"Hey, Shania. I'm talking about spending more time with you." Twain reminded her with a little surprise.

Shania glanced at Twain and said, "If it's true, then that's fine."

Twain wanted to explain himself, but Shania had already jumped out of bed. She said, "I'm going to cook for you. Are you hungry?"

After saying that, she skipped as she ran out.

Twain laid in bed. He did feel hungry. But what he cared more about than the noise rumbling in his stomach was that Shania obviously did not believe what he said…

He laid back on the bed again, feeling deflated, as he looked at the ceiling and sighed.

What a failure. He had gotten so many championship titles that he just had to say he was going to win a title, and the media and the fans and the players would all believe it. But when he wanted to make his wife happy, his wife did not believe him.

Ah, it's easy to take the champion title but so hard to coax my wife…

※※※

Italian football's Serie A was long over and Inter Milan, which failed to reach the Champions League final, was dismissed the day after the league tournament ended. As the manager of the team, Mourinho was even less likely to stay at Milan to continue working, even if he was a workaholic. At this point, he was basking in the sun on the beach in his hometown of Setúbal Municipality, Portugal's third-largest port city.

With his upper torso naked and wearing only a pair of printed shorts, the world's top-earning manager was lying on a white beach chair with sunglasses on. Next to him was a glass of whisky with ice cubes floating in it on a small round table. His cell phone was placed next to it and underneath the phone was an opened book.

There were plenty of tourists on the beach. Most of whom came here with their families for a holiday and to relax. However, Mourinho was alone, not because he was at odds with his wife. He just wanted to enjoy his time alone. Sometimes he liked to be this way. Whether he was contemplating a problem, or when he had nothing in mind, he felt it was great to have such a quiet time which only belonged to him and he could do anything without anyone to disturb him.

Unfortunately, the time left undisturbed today did not last long.

The cell phone on the round table rang.

Mourinho did not pick it up at first. He laid motionless in his chair, as if he were asleep. Anyway, he wore sunglasses, so no one knew if he was asleep with his eyes closed.

The phone rang for a while before it was automatically cut off. Mourinho did not even turn his head throughout the whole process. He was still enjoying his own contented time.

Very soon, the phone rang again, and it was not cut off for a long time. The man lying on the chair finally got up somewhat impatiently. Instead of getting up, he reached out to touch his cell phone, put the Bluetooth headset on his ear, and pressed the answer button to say, "Hello."

"Jose!" It was the voice of his agent and good friend, Mendes. "I have the latest update which I think you'll be interested."

"Is it still about Manchester United?" Mourinho's voice was languid, like the afternoon sun.

Before the end of the season, the English and Italian media were speculating about the rumor that Manchester United was interested in asking Mourinho to take over Martin O'Neill's position. In fact, it was not a rumor. The walls had ears and no secret could stay secret forever in the world. Tony Twain could hide that he did not renew his contract with the club, but it did not escape The Sun. The affair between Mourinho and Manchester United was naturally harder to hide from the omnipotent reporter.

As Mourinho's agent, Mendes did have closer contact with the Manchester United Football Club. Manchester United wanted to reconstruct its glory, so it obviously needed a big-name manager of high quality and prestige. O'Neill's ability was not bad, but he could not control the locker room. Originally, Tony Twain was the most suitable candidate and was handpicked by the godfather of Manchester United, Ferguson, to be the successor. However, he had no interest in any other team except Nottingham Forest. Manchester United only then found Mourinho because they knew the relationship between Mourinho and Inter Milan was not inseparably close.

Although Mourinho had the world's highest salary for a manager at Inter Milan, he had not been happy there. Italy's football environment was completely different from the English Premier League. As a team's manager, he had too many restrictions, like he was walking with shackles around his neck, wrists and ankles. He could not talk about a lot of things because once he said them today and the media embellished tomorrow, then President Moratti would come look for him to have an "intimate long talk" the day after tomorrow. The rival managers had always thought Mourinho was not that great and that he was just a regular manager who talked big and of an unorthodox background. He could get the highest salary only because he could package himself while the Italian academic type of managers felt that it was beneath them to do so. For them, football was football and not to be diluted by anything else. A manager's job was to train the team, develop tactics and direct the game. To become the team's number one star would be to upstage the main attraction.

Sometimes he really missed his time in England. Although there was a club president who liked to criticize or give orders summarily, he could still breathe more freely there.

Like the sea breeze here, the freedom belonged only to him.

"No, it's not Manchester United this time." Mendes's voice on the phone sounded different from usual. Perhaps the signal was somewhat distorted during transmission, or perhaps because Mendes' own mood had changed.

Mourinho soon knew the answer to that question.

"There is a football club that has joined the ranks to compete for you." Mendes tried to keep the pace of his tone close to normal, but in fact he was a little faster than usual. It could be heard that he himself was very interested in this matter.

"Oh -"Mourinho did not even raise his eyebrows. His tone was still languid. He did not ask which team. Such things happened all the time, whether it was Real Madrid or Manchester United. Their interest in him had not been just a day or two anyway. What he was doing now was to reach out to get the wine glass on the table.

"It's also an English Premier League team." Mendes was still keeping it in suspense, even if Mourinho did not cooperate. "This team has just made headlines in the major sports media…"

Mourinho's hand had almost touched the glass when he stopped. His other hand pushed his body up. It was his biggest movement up until now since answering the phone because he was surprised.

He certainly knew which team Mendes was talking about.

"Nottingham Forest? How is that possible?" Mourinho was so surprised that his voice became much louder. The laziness he felt just now had been swept away, all of which was cleanly evaporated by the afternoon sun.

Mendes smiled and was very pleased with his friend's reaction. "I have another piece of news, which is related to this."

"What?"

"The contract renewal talks between Tony Twain and the club had collapsed and he decided not to renew the contract. He will leave automatically at the end of his contract."

Mourinho's mood at the moment could no longer be described as "surprise." Perhaps it would be more appropriate to use "shock." He still maintained his posture from just now, with his left hand supporting his body and his right hand reaching out to the wine glass.

"The talks fell apart? Was the salary too low?" It was the only reason Mourinho could think of. As one of the most successful managers in the world of football, Tony Twain's ultra-low salary had always been incomprehensible to people. Mourinho was the same as well.

"No. I got the news from another source that Nottingham Forest offered him the highest annual salary in the English Premier League history."

The Portuguese coach was completely baffled. Twain was not even satisfied with the highest annual salary. What more did he want?

"If you want to know the reason why, you can call him, Jose. I only know these details. Twain has kept this matter as top secret, and now the media are waiting for him and the club to announce the success of his contract renewal." As a friend of Mourinho's, Mendes naturally guessed what he was thinking at the moment.

Hearing this last sentence, Mourinho's lips curled up. He knew that Twain was playing with the media.

But he would not call Twain. As he had said many years ago, as long as they were both football managers, they could only be enemies, and not friends.

After he ended the call with Mendes, Mourinho laid back down again and continued to enjoy the time that belonged to him only. But this time his mind is no longer carefree, but in a turmoil like a storm in the sea.

That guy, Tony Twain actually left Nottingham Forest where he had been for eleven years… What the hell is he thinking? Nottingham Forest has just achieved a great accomplishment of the Treble win. It is now time to take center stage and lord it over others. But the manager leaves instead. What will be the future of this team? It's truly worrying…

But in fact, Mourinho was not concerned about these things. He cared only about which team Tony Twain would take over after he left Nottingham Forest. In his view, Manchester United was undoubtedly the most likely. Manchester United had always been interested in working with Twain. Previously, it was because Twain did not want to leave the Forest team that they were unable to recruit him. And now…

After pondering for a while, Mourinho suddenly turned his attention back. Shouldn't this supposed to be Tony Twain's trouble instead? Why am I worrying about it for?

Just as he was clearing the mess in his head and preparing to continue his vacation, his cell phone rang again.

He thought it was Mendes with the latest news again, so he put on his earpiece to answer the phone. What came on was a familiar and yet strange voice, and it sounded excited, "Hey, Jose! I want to book an appointment for you and me to have a drink together!"

Mourinho stared blankly for a moment and then he realized that the caller was the man who was just on his mind - Tony Twain.

"Did you not quit drinking after the heart attack?"

"For some people, it is necessary to drink together. Other beverages will not do. Anyway, it's just this one time."

"I recall saying that unless we're not enemies in football, otherwise…"

Twain interrupted Mourinho's words to say, "Hey, I've already resigned from Nottingham Forest!"

"Manchester United has an open position."

Twain smiled and said, "I've heard that they're more interested in you. In fact, I'm actually not going to continue as a manager."

Mourinho was stunned by Twain's words. Then he figured it out again - it must have been because of his heart. "But I'm in Portugal now."

"It doesn't matter. I know you're going to do the commentary on the World Cup for the Portuguese television station. So am I. We'll meet up in Brazil!" Twain took it Mourinho's words as he had agreed to his request for a drink.

Mourinho wanted to say something more, but Twain had already hung up the phone. Judging from his voice, Twain's mood was quite good. It was really strange that he could still be in such a good mood after he left something that he had poured eleven years of hard work into …

He shook his head and laid down again. This time he succeeded in taking a nap without any phone calls to bother him again.

※※※

The next day, the media finally waited for the news they had been longing for - the Nottingham Forest Football Club was going to hold a press conference to announce the latest news of its contract extension with Twain!

It looked like Twain did not deceive them. He did indeed carry out the work on the contract renewal after the Champions League final. There was a result after just three short days.

However, when a large group of reporters came to attend the press conference in high spirits, they found that only Evan Doughty was on the stage without the other lead character, Tony Twain.

Discussions quickly broke out throughout the room. In the crowd, Pierce Brosnan had an ominous hunch which grew stronger with the discussions.

The press conference was brief.

With a grim face, Evan Doughty had announced the news that the contract renewal talks between the club and Twain had been terminated and that the two sides would not renew the contract. It instantly shocked all the reporters present. Even The Sun reporter who had already caught wind of the news earlier, was stunned after the rumor was confirmed.

Then Evan Doughty looked back on Twain's contribution to the team and said that no matter what and where Twain did in the future, he was a man that was forever etched in the Nottingham Forest Football Club's memories and he wished him good luck.

Having said that, Evan Doughty got up and went out, ignoring the reporters who were shouting his name in the back.

The reporters were, of course, full of questions. Why did the negotiations for the contract renewal fail? Which party was responsible? Nottingham Forest had just won the Treble but suffered a major change. What was going to happen in the future? Who would succeed Tony Twain? Where would Tony Twain go after he had left the Forest team?

But no one would come to answer these questions for them.

The venue suddenly became chaotic. Someone rushed out of the door and sped away to leave. He wanted to rush back to be the first to release this piece of news which would absolutely shock the world of European football.

While Pierce Brosnan pulled out his cell phone somewhat in a daze and dialed Twain's number directly.

No matter how many times he dialed, all he heard was, "… Sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service…"

※※※

When a tropical storm formed over the Atlantic Ocean, Tony Twain was sitting on a recliner at Copacabana Beach in Rio de Janeiro. His wife, Shania, was frolicking in the water in a bikini in front of him, while he was earnestly writing a postcard with his head down.

His cell phone was placed next to it, but it was turned off long ago.

"Dear David: If you receive this postcard, you must have known what happened. Thank you very much for the eleven years you've spent with me. You're a good helper and partner in my work. I'm very sorry that I had taken my anger out on you whenever I was in a bad mood. But from now on I promise I'll never yell at you again. You're a great assistant manager. You've done a great job in the team. I hope you can continue to do that. The team can't survive without you. Please forgive me again for saying goodbye to you in this way, because I really don't know how to face you all again…"

Twain stopped when he wrote to this point and looked up at his wife not far away. Brazil's sunshine was so bright that he had to squint his eyes to admire her energetic sexy figure. He lowered his head again to continue writing.

"… I wish you all the best. Your most loyal friend, Tony. Twain."

After he finished writing it, he picked up the next blank postcard and placed it on his lap. He continued to bow his head, and occasionally lifted his head to look at Shania's figure for a moment.

The weather was good today. The salty and damp sea breeze brushed against the branches and leaves of the palm trees by the sea. The wind prompted wave after wave of the azure sea to surge on the pure white fine sand beach with the crashing sounds of undulating tides. The warm sunshine shone on each person's face, showing their different expressions. Contrasted against the sapphire-like sky, the Copacabana Beach was bustling with activities and people. It was extremely lively.

This was a holiday.