115 Another Encounter with Millwall Part 2 (1/2)
Chapter 115: Another Encounter with Millwall Part 2
Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
With a ”ding” sound, a rush of many footsteps came from the elevator direction. Tang En, who was sitting and drinking tea in the lobby by the window, turned his head.
The players, who just had a short break, came out from the elevator. Someone was still yawning. Des Walker quickly came out from among the players, turned around to look at the elevator and loudly urged, ”Come on, hurry up! Don't look like you're still half asleep, now is not time for afternoon tea!”
Ever since he had determined the goals and direction that the team was striving for this season, the man had regained his passion for work overnight.
Tang En looked down at his wrist watch, it was 1:55. It was just right for the team to set out at this time. He put the cup back on the table, folded the newspaper which rested on his knee and put it back in the newspaper rack next to his seat. He then got up and walked to the hotel front door.
It is now almost two o'clock in the afternoon on December 17th. At the Scottsdale Hotel in South London, a red coach, printed with the words ”Nottingham Forest” and the Forest team logo, parked quietly at the entrance and waited to drive them to their destination, The Den.
When they saw their unspeaking manager standing by the door, the players unconsciously began to trot up and hurry to get on the bus. A few players did not understand why the manager was not happy when they had just defeated Crystal Palace, their direct rival to avoid relegation, in the league.
Since the start of the second day of training after the match, few people had seen Manager Tony Twain smiled.
All the players got on the bus, and Walker walked up to Twain and said to him, ”Tony, everyone's here.”
”Well. What about the coaching team?”
”They went first, with the equipment.”
Tang En nodded, ”Good, let's go, too.”
Just as he was about to step onto the bus, he suddenly heard someone calling him from behind, ”Mr. Twain! Wait! Mr. Twain hang on a minute!”
”Ah, Brosnan.” Tang En turned to see the Nottingham Evening Post reporter with his little black leather notebook in his hand, panting as he ran out of the lobby. ”What's the matter?”
Brosnan ran up to him out of breath, bent down at the waist and gasped for a moment with his hands on his knees, before he got up and looked at the bus, and said to Twain intermittently, ”Very… sorry, could you please give me a lift?”
His request was a bit of a surprise to Tang En. ”You want me to let a reporter on the team bus? Brosnan, your request is really... unusual.”
”I'm really, really sorry... I overslept, and my colleagues were gone. They must have thought I set off first.” Brosnan helplessly explained the embarrassing situation.
”You can call a taxi.” Tang En pointed at the street.
”My... my wallet was in my bag which was taken away by my colleagues,” Brosnan blushed.
Tang En sighed and looked at this unfortunate man and thought about the nice things he had written in the newspapers on his behalf. Now that he had some difficulty, it would be a little unconscionable if he did not help him.
Walker got onto the bus and found that Twain did not follow behind, and the players all looked out of the window, so he jumped down from the bus, ”What's the matter, Tony?” He saw the Evening Post reporter standing next to Twain. ”Brosnan, now's not the time for an interview.”
”Mr. Walker, I'm not here for an interview.”
Tang En interrupted him and said to Walker, ”He's a poor bastard who has been left behind by his colleagues because he overslept. And now he has to hitch a ride with us.”
Then he waved to Brosnan, ”Get on the bus! Be glad you're not a woman.”
There were some taboos in professional football that could not be ignored in any country. For example, women were absolutely prohibited to ride on the same bus with the players. That would be seen as an ominous sign of failure. That was why Tang En had said that. If Brosnan was a female reporter, then even if Tang En agreed, the rest of the team would also adamantly oppose having a woman riding on the same bus, going to The Den. Everyone would become very sensitive and superstitious before a big match.
”Thank you very much, Mr. Twain! And, Mr. Walker, thank you.” Brosnan gratefully thanked the two coaches and tried to shake hands, but Tang En shoved him up the bus instead.
”Stop talking nonsense! We have been delayed long enough. If you want to thank us, then continue to help us by putting in a few good words in the newspapers!”
”Of course, of course.” Brosnan stumbled up the bus and saw a group of players curiously looked at him, so he waved hello awkwardly. ”Hello, everyone... I, uh, I...”
Just as he did not know how to explain his abandonment by his colleagues, Tang En came up from behind, pointed at him and said to the players, ”This unlucky chap is an Evening Post reporter who overslept and is without a single cent on him!”
”Boo—” There was a gloating hiss and laughter in the bus.
”Mr. Reporter, tomorrow's Nottingham Evening Post front page headline will not be about us advancing to the EFL Cup semi-finals, but you!” yelled a player, which caused the other players to laugh even louder. Even Tang En had a smile on his face. He patted Brosnan's shoulder and motioned for him to sit down next to him.
”No matter what you see or hear in this bus, I don't want to see it in tomorrow's papers. I'm just giving you a lift, but you're not allowed to interview.”
Brosnan nodded. ”Rest assured, Mr. Twain. I know what I should and should not say.”
”That's good. I'm only letting you ride on the bus because I trust you.” After that, Tang En stood up, raised his arms and shouted, ”Drive! Let us go to Millwall's home ground and destroy those b*stards!”
”Yeah--!!” The players brandished their fists and echoed in unison, their sluggish energy completely swept away.