Chapter 92: The Arsenal Match

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

August, the hottest month of the year, had passed, and the Nottingham weather gradually cooled going into September. Sometimes early in the morning, Tang En had to put a coat over his T-shirt.

Yang Yan ended her summer vacation and returned to Nottingham from China. During the two-month holiday, she first went to Italy with her friends, and then returned to her hometown after the SARS outbreak in China eased and the travel ban was lifted.

Though he had wanted to, poor Tang En could not go back. He was leading the team matches.

After Yang Yan returned to Nottingham, she gave Twain a call to say hello. She told him that she had returned from her China trip and brought a Chinese gift for Manager Twain, who loved the Chinese culture. It was supposed to be something that would please Tang En, and he would thank Yang Yan.

But now he didn't look forward to Yang Yan's appearance as much as he used to. For two months, he had not seen Yang Yan, did not hear her voice, and did not think about her at all. In the past, besides his greatest expectation of leading the team to victory, the thing he looked forward to most was Yang Yan's Chinese class every week

Later, when school had started, Yang Yan took the initiative to propose cutting the Chinese lessons from twice a week to once a week, because she would be busier than before in the new semester, and she thought that Twain's Chinese level was already very high. "I'm afraid your level is higher than some Chinese people." So there was no need to waste time on it.

Tang En now had little time for his Chinese studies, and he did not really need to learn at all. So, when Yang Yan put forward this request, he simply agreed to it, and added that if it was inconvenient for her to come on the scheduled day, she could just call and let him know.

Due to the adjustment of the game schedule, most of the teams' sixth round of matches were postponed to the end of October, including Nottingham Forest's. Collymore could finally breathe a sigh of relief. But the media did not intend to let him off just like that. They watched him closely every day as they wanted to see what other excuses Mr. Collymore could find.

If he said the team did not yet have a rapport, that's fine. Now that the team had been given a two-week adjustment period, 12 days should be enough for you to break the team in. No matter how stupid Gareth Taylor was, he should have a little bit of a rapport with the team by now, right? If we continue to lose, then we'll see what else you have to say.

Besides getting his rest every night and studying the former Tony Twain's notes, Tang En now spent his time in Burns' bar, chatting with everyone about the current situation in the football world, and talking about the recent difficulties the Forest team had encountered. If someone wanted him back at City Ground, he would never refuse.

Ever since he found out that Twain often went to Burns' Forest Bar, Pierce Brosnan treated it almost like a second home.

Tang En did not really want the media to get too close to him. He hated the media. So, he always tried to think of ways to drive Brosnan away during the several times he had met Brosnan in the bar.

"Hey, are you going to kick me out again today?" Brosnan stood in front of Twain's seat and looked at him with his hands in his pockets.

Tang En was eating his meal, and when he saw Brosnan, he put the spoon aside. "Damn it, I lose my appetite when I see your face. Why do you still want to come here? You should be working overtime at the office putting together sensationalized news. Where's Kenny?" He lifted his head up and looked around.

"Stop looking. I am a paying customer. He has no right to drive me out, the same goes for you, too." Brosnan took two glasses of beer from the waiter. He took one for himself and put the other one beside Twain's plate. Then he pulled out a chair and sat down.

"You want to bribe me with a glass of beer?" Tang En had not finished speaking when Brosnan pushed the beer in front of him.

"If you want more, there's more."

Looking at Brosnan's smiling face, Tang En sighed again. "Very well. If you want to come here to look for me, then do as you please. But I warn you: You're not a reporter here, and whatever we talk about, I don't want to see it in the papers." Tang En used this to flush out Brosnan's purpose in getting closer to him.

If he wanted to get some kind of exclusive scoop here, he would get rid of him right away.

Brosnan nodded. "Of course, I'm just a regular Forest fan after work."

"Very well. Not a bad answer." Tang En pushed the glass back to Brosnan. "I just thought of it, Mr. Brosnan. If I suddenly decide to write a biography one day, I must look for you."

"If there was truly such a day, it would be my pleasure," Brosnan laughed. "In addition, can I ask you a question, Mr. Twain?"

"Okay?"

"Are you getting ready to go back to City Ground?" Brosnan lifted his glass.

The two men's glasses lightly clinked together

"What do I need to get ready? I don't need to prepare. But now is not the time to go back. It's not the right time yet."

No, now was not the best time for Tang En to return to City Ground, and God did not seem to have abandoned Stan Collymore.

Having rested for 12 days, the Forest team had a home match with Sheffield United, the team which eliminated them in last season's playoff match in the seventh round of the league. It was a very important game for the Forest fans. They could not lose that match.

Collymore and the Forest players were obviously aware of the importance of the match, as well. So, it was only a matter of course that they would win the match on their home ground.

Gareth Taylor, who Collymore had placed high hopes on, finally broke out. He scored two goals at the 30th and 56th minutes of the match, bringing the score to 2:1.

At the 75th minute, Andy Reid put icing on the cake. Nottingham Forest eventually won the match amidst the roar of the fans.

Collymore, who had won the match, was very proud. He kept mentioning Taylor's two goals in the interview, both of which were iconic headers.

Of course, it was not entirely without problems. Although Rebrov contributed an assist, the number of goals he scored, as the main striker, was at a standstill since the first round of the league. What was the use of a main striker that assisted more than he could score?

On September 17th, at the eighth round of the league, Nottingham Forest challenged Burnley on an away match and this time, they had a straightforward victory, 3:0.

David Johnson, Andy Reid, and Gareth Taylor each scored a goal. The two consecutive victories and two consecutive matches of Taylor scoring goals made Collymore so happy that he excitedly announced a day off for the team. Then, on the night of the match, he disappeared, and his hotel room was empty. Who knew which beautiful woman he had found to spend the night with.

The two wins in a row enabled Collymore and his beautiful companion to spend the night together and eased the pressure inside him a little. As a manager, victories and defeats were commonplace. Therefore, he could always easily forget the situation he was facing. Tang En's appraisal of Collymore was he was a typical "live in the moment and enjoy while he can, only worry when the worries come" kind of guy. He seemed to never plan the team's future. Once the pressure to win a match had eased, he would go pick up a girl. When he lost a match, he would blame this and that.

He didn't think Doughty was a fool. What could a manager of such level bring to the Forest team? Even the American, who did not understand football, should know better. But why was there no news of activity within the club's higher-ups? Tang En began to pay attention to all the news about the Forest team's finances and the club's board of directors.

Anyway, compared to his previous role as the First Team manager, his current job was as light and easy as if he were on vacation. He had plenty of time to analyze the things he had never been involved with.

Speaking of Tang En's work, the Nottingham youth team was ranked second in the fourth group of the FA Youth Cup. They only had two points less than the top ranked Aston Villa, which was the champion of the 2002 England FA Youth Cup.

The Forest team youth also successfully broke into the third round of the FA Youth Cup. The young players were very fond of Twain's coaching style, because it could bring them victory. Wasn't winning the whole point of playing the match? Winning matches meant that they would be noticed by more people and that they could have a better future. Even if the First Team was not keen on them, they could still have a good frame of mind, couldn't they?

Tang En had never let his players "enjoy the game" during a match, unless the team had a four-ball advantage over their opponents and at the same time the game only had 10 minutes left. He never told the young players that "football is such a wonderful sport." He usually said, "What a wonderful thing it is to win."

The youth team had George Wood's name on the substitutes' list for every match, but he still had not received even a minute of play in a match. To be honest, the other youth players were quite puzzled by Twain's approach. Everyone could see that the manager was very concerned about Wood. He would take him to go to the second field to have additional practice every day after the training. But why did he not let him play in a match? This kid's performance was also quite good during the usual training. Kerslake often loudly praised him.

When no one was around, even Kerslake would sometimes suggest to Twain to let Wood play in a match, but Twain's answer was "wait a little more."

So, this wait became another two months.

When Tang En finally changed his pairing of a black suit with a red round neck T-shirt, he could still feel the morning chill even as he wore a long-sleeved shirt underneath his suit. Nottingham's late autumn had arrived.

The rainy season had also arrived in Britain. Ah, that was incorrect. Britain had a rainy season all year round. It was now a cold, rainy season.

Tang En stood on the sidelines and watched the youth training with a shrunken neck. He simply put up the collar of his suit, but the rain kept pouring into his neck. Kerslake, who was personally instructing the players on the field, looked even worse than he did. His Umbro sportswear was so slick from the rain that it could reflect light and illuminate a person.

Tomorrow was the third round of the FA Youth Cup, in which the Forest team would play a home match against their opponents. It was a strong team from a Premier League club with a world-renowned reputation for cultivating young players—Arsenal!

The Arsenal adult team was a strong team and their youth team was just as strong. In addition to Arsène Wenger, a manager who placed great importance on the building of youth football, they also had a modernized youth training ground, the best youth coaches, and the ability to purchase and groom young players with huge potential from all over the world.

Tang En was not afraid of Arsenal, but he must pay attention to this team. Because there was currently a very special person on the Arsenal youth team.

The exercises carried out in the rain were mainly targeted defense. George Wood was clearly the key figure in training. He was "specially cared for" by the coaching team. The 18-year-old Ross Gardner was a midfielder who came from Newcastle in the summer and was now the main midfielder of the youth team, the core of their formation. James Beaumont, also 18, was Gardner's midfield partner. He was evenly-skilled and an all-around midfielder.

The coaching team had asked the two to take turns going up and organizing the offense. And Tang En asked Wood to defend against these two men. He was supposed to closely mark whoever was up. If the two people attacked together, he must hold his position well and not allow the other side to easily break through their line of defense. He could not expect there would be anyone around him to help. He must do all of it alone.

"George Wood!" Kerslake blew the whistle to stop the training. He stepped on the mud and marched toward Wood, who was heavily panting and standing in the rain. "You've lost your position again! Position, position! How many times do I have to tell you? Defense is not about seeing the other side with the ball. You just f**king rushed up to tackle the ball like an idiot! Look at your front and back, left and right, hold your position to force the other side to shift to the side or turn back. Look what you just did. Gardner got through again!"

Kerslake's roar in the rain was clear and distinct, and the raindrops around him all shot out. Wood lowered his head and did not speak. The other players took the opportunity to take a breather. The training class had already been interrupted many times. Wood always liked to rush ahead first for his defense, and then the other side would easily bypass him. If he were to mark one player, his performance was not bad. But when he had to hold his defense position… that was where the problem started.

Tang En stood on the sidelines and quietly watched Kerslake lecturing Wood. He was aware of Wood's current shortcoming. This kid was good at close-marking defense because his abnormal physical ability could make up for the disparity in his experience, awareness, and skills during the one-on-one marking. And a defensive stance relied more on experience and awareness, and these were the things that Wood lacked the most now.

Tomorrow's game... can we count on him?

Seeing how the players sprinted, tackled the ball, and rolled on the rain-soaked field, digging up one piece of soil and turf after another, Mr. Andrew, who was specifically in charge of the turf maintenance at the training ground, stood next to Twain and frowned in distress.

"Mr. Twain, can't you go to the second field for the training? We have just trimmed this field, and now look, it's a swamp!" He complained, "We are going to play on this field tomorrow."

Tang En looked at this 40-something-year-old turf employee and comforted him, "Don't worry, Mr. Andrew. I did it on purpose. After the training, you just need to cover up the dug-up grass. You don't need to put too much effort into tidying up the field."

"This..." Mr. Andrew did not understand.

"By the way, if it doesn't rain tomorrow, you will have to water the field even more an hour before the match starts."

Andrew knew what was going on when he heard Twain. He asked excitedly, "How much water should we use, Mr. Twain?"

Tang En looked at Andrew, who had caught on to it, and smiled brightly. "What if I say you and your men can flood it here... Is that okay?"

Then Andrew chuckled. "Mr. Twain, you're so wicked! Don't worry, I'll get it done well. I guarantee the Arsenal kids won't feel comfortable playing here."

Because the match was the next day, training was soon over. At the end, Wood's understanding of the defensive stance did not improve much. Kerslake sighed at Twain, shook his head, and went back for a shower and change of clothes.

The players ran back to the locker room with their heads down. Only Wood was standing on the field in a daze. His performance that day on the muddy ground was indeed terrible. But it did not matter, it was good for him to know his own shortcomings. Tang En never worried that Wood would lose his drive because of the impact of being reprimanded. His reason for playing football was different from the other kids on the team. He had a tough body and was tenacious.

Tang En stepped forward and patted the dazed Wood.

"Go back and change your clothes. Be careful not to catch a cold."

Wood looked up at Twain, hesitated a little, and then asked, "Am I still on the list tomorrow?"

"Of course." Tang En nodded. "Head back quickly. If you catch a cold, I'll have to remove you from the list."

Then, Wood ran back to the locker room. Looking at his back, Tang En had a headache about the same worries that Kerslake had.

The sky was dark, because it was cloudy and raining. It was not even 5:30 p.m., and it was dark as night. The patter of rain hit the windows and ground, making a continuous crackling sound. From time to time, someone would run past below the window, both feet stepping on the puddles, the crackling sounds came from far to near, and from near to afar. Because of the weather, the street outside was much quieter. There was no loud noise of children gathering and making a racket and no shouts from quarrelling couples.

Although it was very cold outside, this simple kitchen and dining room seemed particularly warm because of the warm fire, orange lights, and fragrant black tea.

This was the feeling of home.

Although the family of two who lived here had no money, their home was much warmer than Tang En's cold and empty house.

George Wood, who just had a hot shower, threw all his clothes, which were dirty and wet from training in the rain, into the washing machine. He then scooped in the detergent, pulled down the lid and turned on the switch. After finishing this task, he returned to the kitchen to help his mother wash the dishes. Sophia sat at the table and cut the potatoes to prepare for dinner, even though it was still quite early.

"George."

"Eh?" Wood took the clean milk pan out of the water, wiped it dry, put it aside, and picked up a plate and put it into the water.

"If I remember correctly, you have a game tomorrow?" Sophia casually asked as she diced the potatoes with her head lowered.

Wood gave a grunt again. Even in his own home, his words were few.

"Are you on Mr. Twain's list again?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to play this time?"

Wood stopped his chore, looked at the running water from the tap in a daze for a moment and then shook his head, "I don't think so."

"Why?"

"Maybe I'm still not good enough."

"What's considered good enough?" His mother asked.

Wood continued to shake his head, "I don't know. When Twain thinks I'm okay, then I am."

"George, you have to call him Mister," Sophia corrected her son's impolite behavior.

Wood reluctantly said, "Mr. Twain."

Sophia smiled, "I think I want to see you play tomorrow."

With a crash, the plate in Wood's hand slipped into the water. He turned and looked at his mother, somewhat surprised. "Your body…"

"It's only walking. Oh, George, don't think so little of your mother," Mommy Sophia said and smiled at Wood. But her son did not give in. He just frowned without nodding.

The mother smiled and looked to her son. Her son gloomily faced her with the sound of water rushing behind. Sophia pointed to the sink behind her son and alerted him, "It's overflowing, George."

Wood turned around to turn off the faucet and continued to wash his plate.

"George, do you like playing football?" Sophia changed the subject.

Wood shook his head.

"You do not like it, or you do not know?"

"I don't know."

"Do you feel happy when you're playing football?"

"I never think about it."

"It's not going to work if you continue this way." Sophia put down the potato and knife in her hands, then got up and went to her bedroom. Then she took a mirror from inside her room, walked behind Wood, and slowly put the mirror in front of Wood.

Wood looked at himself in the mirror, not knowing what his mother was doing.

"Look, George," His mother whispered softly behind Wood. "Why do you always wrinkle your brows? Did someone upset you?"

"No, mother." Wood shook his head.

"Laugh more, George. Don't you think you'll look handsome when you smile?"

Wood opened his mouth in the mirror, revealing two rows of white and neat teeth.

"Little Lion George." His mother ruffled Wood's shiny black hair that was sticking out messily on his head and looked like a lion's mane.

After their affectionate exchange, Sophia returned to the dining table. "What do you think of Mr. Twain?" she asked, seemingly casual, but it caught Wood's attention. "Optimistic and cheerful, he seems full of energy every day. George, you should be like him." His mother did not notice the change in Wood's expression, and she bent her head to cut the potatoes in concentration.

"I've decided. If it doesn't rain tomorrow, I will go to see your game."

While eating dinner at the Forest Bar, Tang En looked up at the television to watch the weather forecast.

"...Nottingham will have little to moderate rain tomorrow, from morning till night, temperature..."

"Yeah!" Tang En pumped his fist. This was the weather he wanted.

Next to him, Burns put down the newspaper and said to him, "You care a lot about tomorrow's game, Tony."

"Of course. We will be in the fourth round if we win." Tang En lowered his head to dig into his meal.

"What are the chances of winning?" asked Brosnan, who sat opposite.

Tang En shook his head. "It's not easy to say. Arsenal is very strong, and there are a few strong players on their team, especially that Spaniard…"

"You mean Fàbregas? But he's only 16 years old," Brosnan shrugged.

"Mr. Reporter, for some people, age is not an issue that affects their performance. We generally call these type of people 'geniuses'." Tang En pushed the plate aside, took a gulp of his beer to rinse his mouth, and finished his dinner.

The impact and ripple effects of Tang En's transmigration had appeared in front of him more and more, but fortunately it did not affect some important events, such as the transfer of Francesc Fàbregas. Immediately after October 1st, the young midfielder from Barcelona B club was transferred to the London Premier League team, Arsenal. Le Professeur Arsène Wenger could not wait until the transfer window opened next January to get the best player in U-17 World Championship, even though he was still unable to give Fàbregas a First Team position.

"Oh, don't worry, Tony!" Big John held his glass and said to Twain, "All of us will go to cheer for your team, and hopefully we will not scare those Arsenal kids!"

His words were echoed in agreement by the others, and everyone said they would go to watch the youth team's game.

Tang En lifted his glass to thank him. "But John, there are only standing tickets for sale."

The match was held on the training ground. There were basically no tickets for sale. Anyone could watch the game at any time, just had to stand outside of the mesh wire fence beside the field. This, of course, was the "standing ticket" as compared to the plastic seats in City Ground.

"It doesn't matter. We can even squat to watch the game."

Bill, who was skinny, interrupted John. "Wrong, fatso. We can squat and watch the game, you can't. If you really want to squat down, just be prepared to sew your pants! Ah ha ha ha!"

The people in the bar all laughed.

John scratched his head in embarrassment. "Whatever, squatting or standing is fine. But Tony, so many of us are going to watch the game, you mustn't lose!"

"When have I let you down before?" Amidst the laughter, Tang En replied loudly, "Of course we'll win!"

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