Godfather Of Champions

That summer two years ago, Twain had come to Spain with Shania after first getting to know her. Madrid, the Spanish capital, was the first stop to begin his tour of the European football giants.

There were big and small clubs scattered within and around Madrid, but only one could be called a real powerhouse club: Real Madrid, the symbol of Spanish football.

At that time, Twain had only done a turn round outside of Real Madrid’s home stadium, Bernabéu. He didn’t go in as the other tourists did. He was not an ordinary tourist anymore. He was the manager of another team. Which manager of a team would buy a ticket to visit the home of another team and take a photograph as a souvenir?

Twain did not want to display that kind of blatant worship.

If I ever go in, there are only two possible reasons. First, I became the owner of this team; or second, I lead my team to compete here.

He did not know if he would have a chance to realize the first possibility in this lifetime. However, the second possibility was close at hand.

The white Santiago Bernabéu stadium stood quietly in front of him. Twain sat in the coach provided by the Real Madrid club, looking at the letters on the giant white wall.

He did not have the excitement that he had had when he was in close proximity of this football temple for the first time. Obviously, he would not point at the building like a tour guide to the bus full of players and say, “Look! This is the Santiago Bernabéu Stadium!”

That would be embarrassing.

However, there were some players who took out their cell phones and digital cameras and snapped away happily outside the stadium. For some of them, to be able to play in this stadium was like a dream. None of the stadiums in England were as big as Bernabéu. Compared to the Forest team’s home, the City Ground stadium, Bernabéu was a real juggernaut for some people.

Twain turned to look at them and cleared his throat.

When they heard their manager cough, some people hurriedly put away their cameras. They did not expect to hear Twain say, “No need to put them away. If you want to photograph it, take a few more now. You won’t have the chance when you get out of the bus later.”

Everyone on the bus looked at Twain.

“We aren’t invited for a tour. This game is not a friendly warm-up match. So, when you get out of the bus later, you’d better behave like an opponent. Don’t let the people of Madrid mock you.”

The players put their cell phones and digital cameras into their bags and just turned their gazes toward the white stadium getting increasingly closer.

※※※

Today was not the game day. Other than the busy stadium staff, only Nottingham Forest came to Bernabéu to adapt to the stadium and do their warm-up training.

Twain sat on the real leather seat of the visiting team’s technical area at the Bernabéu stadium and watched the players do simple training drills on the field. But his mind was filled with thoughts about the pre-game press conference that had just ended. Both managers from the two teams attended at the same time, but the media was only concerned with Real Madrid’s Brazilian manager, Luxemburgo.

Before this Champions League group stage match, there was a fight of the century recently in the first leg of the season. Real Madrid had lost 0:3 to their arch rival Barcelona at home. Ronaldinho became the star of Bernabéu in that game. His second goal even made the picky and harsh Real Madrid fans stand up to applaud him. Naturally, from that perspective, it could also reflect how disappointed the fans were about Real Madrid.

Because they had just lost such an important game, the media had thrown that problem at Luxemburgo, who had struggled recently.

The media was concerned about whether Ronaldo, who had suffered minor injuries in the fight of the century, would be able to play. They were also worried that the condition of Zidane, who had returned to the French national team, would be affected by the recent national team game. They cared about Raúl’s continued decline in performance. They were interested in Beckham, Robinho, Casillas, Helguera… No one cared about the Nottingham Forest players.

Twain thought that that was a covert form of discrimination. As Real Madrid’s opponent, his team and Real Madrid were equal. But all eyes were still on Real Madrid. No one was interested in the “villain” of this game. It was as if the problem in Real Madrid was more difficult to deal with and more attention-grabbing than their opponent.

Can I treat this as contempt?

He wanted to ask that question, but he still resisted in the end. Since you don’t take us seriously, we will show you on the field.

As Twain was still brooding over what had happened at the press conference, David Kerslake came over and muttered, “This is the turf used in the stadium of a La Liga powerhouse club?”

Twain lifted his eyes to look at him.

“It’s terrible! It’s very slippery and unstable. I suspect the turf was pasted with glue.”

When he was a fan, Tang En had followed La Liga with interest and often stayed up late to watch the games. He knew that the quality of the turf in the Bernabéu was extremely bad for a period of time. Even their own players complained. Then, during the winter break of a certain season, Real Madrid changed the turf in Bernabéu and the criticism of their home turf faded away. Perhaps the Forest team had happened to encounter that period.

However, he still answered Kerslake, “Or can it be one of Real Madrid’s small tricks? To deliberately let us think that the turf quality is poor, and then for us to change our boots, so that they can beat us on normal turf.”

Kerslake paused for a minute when he heard Twain say that, wondering how probable it might be.

Twain laughed, “Don’t overthink it. I’m just talking nonsense. It’s unlikely that a big club like Real Madrid would do such a thing. The quality of their turf is really terrible. We just have to be ready.”

“They have the money to pay for big names, but they can’t change the turf?” Kerslake snorted.

“Who knows? Maybe they think that the substandard turf can cause more trouble for the visiting teams.” Twain shrugged his shoulders. “If that’s the case, they’re not thorough enough.”

When Kerslake heard that, the first thing that came into his mind was the time when Twain had instructed the training base’s turf maintenance workers to over-water the youth team stadium, and then dragged Arsenal, which relied on techniques to play, into a contest with the Forest youth team in the quagmire. He burst into laughter.

“Not everyone is such a jerk, Tony.”

Hoarse laughter rang out on the sidelines of the Bernabéu stadium.

The players glanced over there and then turned back. They were used to it.

※※※

Twain did not know much about Luxemburgo. Most of what he knew was entirely limited to his failed coaching experience. For example, he had had a lot of difficulty coaching the Brazilian national team in the South Korea-Japan World Cup qualifier and was almost eliminated. Or, for instance, the ugly defensive counterattack style of football during his time at Real Madrid. Although to be fair, Luxemburgo was not as incompetent as Twain had imagined. For example, he was the manager who had led his teams to win the most championship titles in Brazil and even led the Brazilian national team to win the 1999 Copa América title. His performance was not bad during his coaching in Real Madrid. However, he had lost a game that should not have been lost.

Four days ago, Real Madrid was thrashed 0:3 by Barcelona on their home ground, and they were powerless to fight back. The slogan “Get lost, Luxemburgo” resounded through the night sky at Bernabéu in that game. Until now, the dark clouds of dismissal still loomed over the Brazilian’s head.

Looking at how embarrassed Luxemburgo was, being pressed by the media in the pre-match press conference, Twain should honestly have been thankful. Of course, he was never afraid to face the crafty media.

Twain knew that Luxemburgo would be dismissed. That was something he was certain that it would happen because Real Madrid had lost to Barcelona.

Therefore, he did not mind adding a bit of fuel to the fire.

This period was the concentrated outbreak of all of Real Madrid’s problems in recent years. It was the lowest point of their lowest ebb. What Twain wanted to do was not to pull Real Madrid up at the critical moment, but to push them further into the abyss.

I want to wipe you out while you’re still ailing!