Godfather Of Champions

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

Tottenham Hotspur's fax on their acceptance of the offer from Nottingham Forest for Michael Dawson, the just published copy of the Nottingham Evening Post this morning, still with a whiff of the fresh ink smell, as well as Martin O'Neill's handwritten resignation letter, all three of which were placed together on Evan Doughty's desk. His brain did not respond for a while.

The fax was sent to him by his secretary, Miss Lucy, along with a good morning kiss. It was a very close interaction that transcended the relationship between a club chairman and a secretary. The Evening Post was brought to him later by his old friend, Allan Adams while the resignation letter was personally delivered by Martin O'Neill himself. The man who wanted to resign was still standing in the room waiting for the club chairman's approval.

Two days had now passed since the day O'Neill flew into a terrible rage in front of Evan Doughty.

The deal with Tottenham Hotspur to buy Dawson was in Doughty's plan, and they bought a center back at the peak of his playing career at a low price. Evan Doughty thought it was a good deal and was feeling happy about the matter. While he was being naughty with his hands on Miss Lucy's body, Allan knocked on his office door with the newspaper which startled him. If the affair between him and Lucy was exposed to his wife, his family would be torn apart.

Lucy opened the door for Allan after she had tidied her blouse. Allan even watched with interest at the figure of swaying hips as she walked away. Then he handed the newspaper to Evan without saying a word.

Evan saw a picture of O'Neill on it, as well as an interview. The headline was striking and also explained why Allan risked interrupting the couple's clandestine love affair to knock on his door.

Before Evan could figure out what he meant by being unhappy, O'Neill knocked on his office door.

When Evan was about to ask O'Neill what the interview was about, the other party had already placed something on Evan's desk.

"A resignation?"

Evan thought he had misread. He picked it up and glanced at it again. Then he looked up at the Northern Irishman standing in front of him.

Standing in front of Evan, O'Neill said earnestly, "I don't think I can carry out my plans and ambitions here at all. I don't get enough respect here, and you guys don't seem to need a manager. So, I think breaking up is the best solution."

"You can't do this!" Evan yelled out. He had no idea O'Neill would do this and resign? How dare he! He had only been in the position for two months, and now he was going to quit… What do you take me, the club chairman for?

"Of course, I can." As a "senior manager" who had been in English football for more than two decades, O'Neill was not stupid. He said, "In the contract we signed at the time, you did not state how much money you would pay me if I were to be fired. So, I do not have to pay you money when I quit, Mr. Chairman. That's fair."

Since there was no need of compensation for default in the contract, O'Neill had no qualms left.

In fact, he made the decision to resign that day after he had the big blowout with Evan Doughty. That was why he came out with the big explosive news during the interview - since I'm going to leave, who cares what you think of me? I have said everything that should and shouldn't be said. At least I have aired my grievances and vented my frustration!

"It's … It's not about the money, Mr. O'Neill. You're the manager of the team, the league tournament is about to start and you're resigning now…"

"I'm resigning now for the sake of the team. You still have time to find a manager at this point. It's going to be hard if you wait until after the start of the league tournament, Mr. Chairman." O'Neill addressed him using "Mr. Chairman" each time but it sounded more like he was giving a slap to the club chairman, Evan Doughty's face.

Evan Doughty was completely stunned by Martin O'Neill's show of determination. He had the letter of resignation in his hand as he looked at O'Neill with his mouth agape. He did not know what to say while Allan Adams sat on the couch without saying a word, as if he were a spectator.

"I hope the club agrees to my resignation." O'Neill reiterated his intention in his meeting with Evan. "It is not possible for us to continue working together."

Under the current circumstances, what could Evan do if he did not agree? He finally paid the price for his own arbitrary actions - the manager, whom he spent lots of effort hiring, had now resigned voluntarily, which was like a loud slap to his face. Having lost two managers in a row in two months, perhaps he should think about whether the managers were too fond of power or was he being too foolish?

After a moment's silence, Evan stood up and put his hand out to O'Neill to say, "Thank you for everything you have done for the club, Mr. O'Neill. I'll agree to your resignation."

O'Neill smiled and said, "Goodbye, Mr. Chairman." With that, he turned and walked out of the office without even giving a glance at Allan Adams sitting at the side.

After watching O'Neill go out, Evan Doughty slowly sat down and looked at Allan Adams, who had been sitting on the couch in silence.

"Who should we look for now to be the manager?" Allan spread his hands and asked.

"Lord only knows." Evan mumbled weakly. Too much had hit him this morning.

"There are not many successful managers idling at home at this time. It is not a good time to find a manager…"

"Then we have to poach someone!" Evan suddenly got excited, "Poach a manager from the other clubs!" He balled up O'Neill's resignation letter and threw it in the trash can.

※※※

The players and coaches were even more taken aback than Evan Doughty. Everyone could not believe it when O'Neill stood in front of them with a smile on his face and announced that he had resigned. They thought he was joking, but the problem was that Mr. O'Neill was someone who liked to joke. He and Tony Twain were different.

"Thank you for your support over the past two months." O'Neill smiled and said goodbye to the players, "Although I did not have a good relationship with the club's top brass, I had a great time with you. You've all been lovely and I'm proud to have once coached such a team, even though it was only for a short two months."

"I'm sorry I can't continue to lead you. I wish you all good luck."

He then hugged and said goodbye to the assistant managers, fitness coach, goalkeeper coach and First Team coaches one by one.

Kerslake was still in shock. Tony's gone and now Martin is leaving too. What's happening? With them gone, what are we going to do? What about Nottingham Forest? Is such a team that has just won the Treble going to disappear from now on?

As he hugged O'Neill, he asked a question, "Are you resigning because of Tony, Mr. O'Neill?"

He was worried that Tony's influence was too great to allow O'Neill to have free rein in his job here.

O'Neill shook his head and washed away "the unjust treatment" Twain received. He said, "It has nothing to do with him. I don't have a good relationship with the club chairman and the business director, David. They have their standpoint and I have mine. It is a pity that our standpoints are not in line. You're a good assistant manager and you'll be a great manager in the future. Thank you for your help, David. When the new manager arrives, help him like you've helped me and Tony. Hopefully he can make it here… for longer." He looked into the distance and sighed softly.

After he waved his last goodbye, O'Neill turned and walked away from the stupefied team.

The reporters who came when they caught wind of the news, had already blocked the gate of the Wilford training base till it was impenetrable. The bunch of dogs had a real nose for news. He just had a showdown with the club and they already knew. It was as if no secrets could be hidden from them.

When the reporters saw O'Neill emerge from the inside, they struggled to get away from the security guards and rushed up.

Countless microphones were extended right under O'Neill's nose, and the cameras were pointed at him.

"Mr. O'Neill, we've heard that you have resigned? Is it true?"

"Manager O'Neill, can you tell me the reason for your sudden resignation? It's completely unexpected… You've only been here for two months!"

"Hey, Martin! Martin! Is it true that you have a conflict with the club's top management? Can you tell us what kind of contradiction?"

"Did Pepe's transfer lead to your resignation?"

"Can it be due to Michael Dawson… Don't you like Dawson?"

"Tony Twain also left suddenly. Have you two been in touch? Does your resignation have anything to do with him?"

"Can you tell me where your next stop is?"

"Is Nottingham Forest club's top brass really interfering too much with the manager's job to sign players, like what you said in the interview?"

"Care to comment on Evan Doughty?"

"Has your resignation been approved by the club?"

Nothing else could be heard at the scene except for the reporters asking their questions loudly and the pressing of the camera shutters. Everyone was shouting at the top of their lungs, afraid that O'Neill could not hear him in the crowd.

However, O'Neill was not in the mood to answer their questions. He stood in front of his car door and turned to the enthusiastic reporters to say, "I've received approval to resign. I have nothing else to say about the matter. I'm grateful to the people who helped me during the two months of coaching at the Forest team. In addition, I want to clarify that this has nothing to do with Tony Twain. The resignation is my own decision, nothing to do with anyone. If you want to ask anything else, please save those questions for the club. I'm sure they'll announce a press conference very soon."

He pulled the car door open and went in. He closed the car window and started the car. He slowly drove out of the main gate surrounded by the crowd of reporters trying to chase and intercept him.

The reporters stopped after chasing for a few steps. As O'Neill said, the club was bound to hold a press conference and their questions would be left till then.

Pierce Brosnan did not expect O'Neill's decision to resign to so firm and decisive. He watched the black car driving to the distance behind the crowd of people, wondering what Nottingham Forest's future hold.

How did this happen? A dominant team that lorded over Europe and famous for its playing prowess in the world, had a massive turnover of people within these two months and was changed till it was unrecognizable.

If he had to trace the root of the cause… it looked like he could not avoid this one person.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Tony Twain's number.

※※※

When the cell phone which Twain left in the downstairs dining room rang, he was just going over the list of England registered players from all the teams in the English Premier League in his upstairs study. One of the two twenty-four-inch monitors connected to the computer was playing the video of a game. He needed to use the computer to cut and edit those video clips to make them into a collection for his own needs. Then he would burn it into a CD-ROM, label it and place it in its category in the cabinet. In that way, he would not be lost like a headless fly when he needed to check.

Staring at the television screen to study the game videos or reading notes and journals for a long term had caused Twain to be slightly myopic. He wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses and looked up with a concentration to observe the performances of several targeted players. When he needed to pay special attention, he would press the pause button, and then looked down to record the time in the notebook, which made it convenient for subsequent editing.

He was so engrossed in watching the video that the first time the phone rang downstairs, he did not hear it.

When the sound disappeared, he suddenly realized if something was ringing…

He listened with his head cocked but heard nothing. Just when he was shaking his head and thinking that he must have been hearing things from being too busy lately, the telephone rang again the moment he was going to continue working.

When Twain shuffled along in his slippers to go through the long second-floor corridor, around the circular staircase, and then through the eighty square meters of living room, the ringing stopped again the moment he finally came to the dining room.

"Really impatient." Twain mumbled as he picked up his cell phone, wanting to see who called.

The caller's name that showed up in the missed calls on the screen was 007.

Twain did not bother to key in some people's names. To him, English names were still not as easy as Chinese names, so he would give a lot of people codenames. 007 referred to Pierce Brosnan, because his name sounded the same as that of the famous actor, Pierce Brosnan who played 007.

So, it was the Nottingham Evening Post reporter. Twain did not know why he called him. Just as he was hesitating whether to call back to inquire, the cell phone in his hand rang and vibrated again.

He finally pressed the answer button.

"Hey, Mr. Bond, why are you calling me at this time?" Twain leaned against the couch in the living room and asked languidly.

"I want to know the real reason why you suddenly decided to leave Nottingham Forest." Brosnan got straight to the point and asked.

The question made Twain's face fall. He never answered such questions, not even from Brosnan. "I'm sorry, Mr. Reporter. I don't want to answer your question. If you want to interview me, please make an appointment in advance…" With that, he was about to hang up.

That was when he heard Pierce Brosnan roared, "When are you going to stop hiding like a coward, Tony!"

Twain's hand was stopped short by the sudden roar and did not hang up.

"Have you seen the news? Do you have a newspaper there? Is the TV on?" Brosnan continued to ask loudly after he finished yelling.

"No." Twain looked around. The table was clear and had nothing on it. The television set was not turned on and the screen was dark.

"Then I'll give you a live coverage now!" Brosnan said fiercely. This might be the first time he had spoken to the king of Nottingham Forest using this tone since he became a reporter. "Martin O'Neill has just tendered his resignation to the club, and I believe the club has agreed to his application to resign!"

Twain was stunned by the news. He thought he was dreaming, and the dream did not feel real.

Martin O'Neill had only joined the team for two months. Why did he quit?

"If you still care about Nottingham Forest, you must know why! Evan Doughty and Allan Adams kept O'Neill in the dark and reached an agreement to sell Pepe to AC Milan. Now they had hidden the fact that they were signing Michael Dawson from him again. Even though the media had called Dawson's arrival as 'homecoming', it violated O'Neill's authority. So, he quit! It's as straightforward as that… Now, tell me why you decided not to renew your contract at the time? Did you lose faith in the club's top brass, just like O'Neill did? Tell me, Tony!"

Twain was silent for a moment and did not answer.

"Very well, I know what's on your mind. You're worried about causing an upheaval in the team when you say it, aren't you? You're really stupid, Tony. All clubs are like this. Turmoil is not something that can entirely be foreseeable. Martin O'Neill has resigned and Şahin is transferring to Bayern Munich. Do you think the team you've built up with so much effort can still be kept intact? The players have already lost faith in the top echelons of this kind of club. Did Pepe's departure not clarify the issue? He was the most loyal player!"

"Do you still love this team? Do you still miss every day and night of the past eleven years? Don't you feel hurt that they treated you like that in the Crimson Stadium? Don't stay silent, Tony."

※※※

Pierce Brosnan leaned against his car outside the gate of the Wilford training ground and called Twain. The reporters around him were almost gone. There was no one to bother him no matter how loud he shouted at the phone. He was treated as just another regular reporter asking for enough space from the bureau.

"Don't stay silent, Tony! Tony? Tony… Hello? Hello!"

After vehemently spouting so many words for a long time, Brosnan found that the person on the other end of the line had cut off the call.

"What the damn hell!" He was so angry that he kicked the wheel of his own car, and the car alarm sounded, which startled him.

"Asshole!" Brosnan touched his car key to turn off the car alarm in a hurry. He felt that it was a truly lousy day.

It was reasonable to say that since he was a reporter, he should not have thought so. What happened today should fire him up and make him want to rush back to start writing the article so that he could post the news before everyone.

But now he felt terrible about this matter as a huge Nottingham Forest fan.

He leaned back on the car and looked at the Nottingham Forest emblem on the facade of the Wilford training base's entrance in a daze.

※※※

Twain walked back to his study and stared blankly at the video of the game, which had been paused on the computer screen. Coincidentally, he was watching a video of Nottingham Forest's game last season. The man in the video was Aaron Mitchell.

He found himself completely not in the mood to sit down and work. He suddenly wanted to listen to some music. Perhaps only music could soothe his fidgety heart at this moment.

He turned on the stereo and returned to the computer amid the sound of the music. The wonderful music still could not let him settle down his heart. Something was stuck in the chest and wanted to rush out.

He sat down and turned off the video of the game. Then he opened up a Word document. He recalled he should write a column for the Evening Post. Since the World Cup, his column had gone quiet.

But today, he was going to write. He had a lot of things to write about. He was going to rebuke some people. He wanted to ridicule, vent and destroy some things. It was the only way that the future could be rebuilt.

Amidst the sound of continuous tapping on the keyboard, the voice of James Blunt sang:

"… You're beautiful, you're beautiful, you're beautiful, it's true… But it's time to face the truth, I will never be with you…" (An excerpt from James Blunt's song, "You're beautiful").