327 Impressions Part 1 (2/2)
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The next day, Tang En called on Barbara Lucy. She was the person in charge of managing media calls.
”There are so many of them… We can't possibly hold a press conference over a transfer that hasn't even come to pass. Why don't you pick one of the media companies and invite them to Wilford? I'll speak to them on my own. You can just turn down all the other requests.”
”Alright, Mr. Twain.”
Barbara Lucy was extremely experienced and decisive. What she had promised Tang En to do in the morning was accomplished by afternoon, with two Chinese reporters arriving at the Wilford Training Grounds. They showed their identification to Old Ian at the guardhouse and were let in after Ian's confirmation over the phone with Ms. Lucy.
The two reporters walked into the training grounds and looked around curiously. They were probably the first two Chinese reporters to step foot in Forest's training area.
Ms. Lucy did not let their Chinese guests wait for too long and swiftly came out of the building, bringing them to Tang En's office.
Tang En was not present when they arrived. Lucy arranged for them to sit while they waited. After serving them both tea, she left.
The two Chinese reporters, a man and a woman, rose from the sofa immediately after Lucy's departure. They scrutinized the modestly-sized office. An entire wall was filled with books, all sorts of books related to soccer. The office desk appeared rather messy and on it sat a computer currently in sleep mode. The computer case emitted a soft whirring sound.
A glass cabinet stood on the side of the wall where the sofa was. The numerous honors received by the manager of the team were displayed there: three ”Football League First Division Manager of the Month” (now EFL Championship), two ”Premier League Manager of the Month,” and last season's ”Premier League Local Manager of the Season.”
On seeing the final trophy, the male reporter laughed.
”Last season's 'Premier League Manager of the Season' was Mourinho. I heard that many people in the English football circle then believed that Tony only lost to Mourinho because he was not famous enough; because Nottingham Forest was not as influential as Chelsea…”
The female reporter on his side replied, ”If Forest had the same kind of influence as Chelsea, but only attained fourth in the League, I'm afraid Tony Twain would be fired by the board of directors.”
The man looked back at her and laughed dryly. ”I say, Tang Jing, you're a football journalist now, not Mourinho's groupie. Maybe you should take note of your own status.”
The female reporter referred to as ”Tang Jing” ignored her colleague and walked to the front of the enormous French window. She looked towards the training grounds not far away. From her position, she could clearly observe the team's situation during training. Tang En's back was to the window. As usual, he did not demonstrate personally on the field but stood by the side supervising.
The male reporter walked over to Tang Jing. He gave the group of people a quick scan and pointed out a tall, bald player, saying, ”That's Pepe. He cost four million pounds and used up the sole 'Exceptional Talent Clause' quota per season for Forest. I wonder what kind of performance he'll have in the new season.”
The woman's focus, however, was not on the team. She had been looking at Tony Twain, whose back was to them.
Ms. Barbara Lucy, who had led them in, made her appearance at the training grounds. She walked over to Tony's side and said something; she was probably informing him about the arrival of the media's representatives. Tony nodded, but did not turn to look at the office behind him.
She left after relaying the message. Tony continued standing at the sidelines, supervising the training. It seemed like he did not have any intention of leaving the grounds to return to his office.
”That's George Wood. He looks so stern; it fits the media's evaluation of him. It's not so easy to get an opportunity to observe Forest Team's training this close up.”
The man seemed more interested in Forest's players.
Tang Jing interrupted him, saying, ”Wang, you're already an old football journalist, not some small-time football fan. Maybe you should take note of your own status.”
The middle-aged man called ”Wang” chuckled embarrassedly. ”So, you've learned! I say, if you don't like this manager, what did you come along for?”
”For work.”
”If it's for work, I would be enough on my own.”
”Wang!”
Uncle Wang coughed and changed the topic. ”To be honest… this Tony Twain is pretty interesting. He likes Chinese culture, and the rumor is that he can speak fluent Mandarin. It could get interesting if his team becomes linked with Sun Jihai. If Sun Jihai really comes to Forest, it might turn out to be a great opportunity for him. Think about it. How helpful would a manager who is able to communicate directly in Mandarin with Jihai be to him?”
”Sun Jihai plays a main position in Man City. Why does Forest want to buy him? I think it's to make him a substitute for the French fullback. Moving from a main position to be a substitute - I don't think that would be any help to Sun Jihai's career.”
”But Nottingham Forest is qualified to enter the Champions League this season.”
”It's only the qualification matches of the Champions League. Whether or not they can play in the Champions League itself remains uncertain until after they win Villarreal CF. And who was the only opponent they lost to in the Europa League Group Stage last year? Villarreal CF.”
Tang Jing was not optimistic about Forest's future in the Champions League.
Wang made no comeback to Tang Jing's words. He was twelve years older than this girl; there was no need to compete with her. She had just been sent to the UK by the agency for the long-term. Of course, the most important reason was that Tang Jing was the president's daughter. Many times, he still had to give in to her a wee bit for appearances' sake.
Tang Jing had some real ability and was professionally trained as a journalist. Since she was young, she had followed in her father's footsteps, his influence nurturing her interest in football. While she had taken the back-door to get into the agency, to get to London, she was not going to just be a gold-plated vase. But who knows what she would tell her father when she returned home? And how would her doting father interpret what she said? All in all, it was much better for him to act prudently.