92 The Arsenal Match (2/2)
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!”