862 A Wonderful Night Begins (2/2)
”Mr. Martin, can we still get tickets?” one of the tourists asked again.
Martin smiled at the person who asked the question and said, ”The tickets for this game were sold out a week ago.” He pointed to a shady spot under a tree not far away, where a lot of people, differently dressed men and women, were standing. The only thing they had in common was they each held a sign with the words, ”I need a ticket.”
”Come on, ladies and gentlemen. Our next stop is Fuente de Cibeles.” Martin looked back at the Bernabéu in the afternoon sun, with its glaring white walls. He was reluctant to leave. He was sorry that he could not watch the game in person as a Real Madrid fan.
After settling the group down in the evening, he had to find a chance to sneak off to watch the live broadcast.
There were also a few tourists who looked back at the Bernabéu longingly. They had come there at a bad time. If it was a day with no match, they would have gotten a chance to get a glimpse inside the stadium in person, visit the hall of honor at the Bernabéu, and see how it compared with Nottingham Forest's hall of honor.
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”The weather is great today. It won't rain in the evening, and there might even be a cool breeze.” Pierce Brosnan sat with a cigarette in his mouth outside the cafe across the street from the Bernabéu. Next to him was the assistant who had come with him to cover the game.
He appeared cool and laid-back. His assistant was covered in sweat. Such an exciting match was approaching every second and minute, making him nervous and excited.
”Mr. Brosnan, do you think the Forest team will win?”
”How would I know that?” Brosnan shook his head and said, ”I am not a prophet or a magician with a crystal ball.”
”Why don't we head to the hotel and wait. There's no news to be covered here.” The assistant was exceptionally talkative. He looked nervous and excited.
”You've worked for me for two years, Paul. Do you still not know the kind of person we interview?” Brosnan glanced at his assistant with a somewhat disappointed and displeased look in his eyes. He said, ”On such an important game, Tony Twain will be sure to drive away from the reporters who surround the hotel entrance like he's shooing away a swarm of flies. He protects his team like an animal nursing its young. He doesn't allow anyone to walk near his team. Do you want some news? There's nothing new to write other than to describe how rude and insolent Tony Twain is over and over again. The readers are long tired of reading about that.”
”In that case, we'll wait here, have some coffee and admire the scenery.”
Brosnan nodded and said, ”Have a break and relax. You're going to be busy tonight, kid.”
In front of Tony Twain, he behaved as if he were an intern reporter. in front of a real rookie, he rediscovered the feeling and dignity of ”a journalist.”
The young man muttered a few words and drank his coffee in a gulp. He turned to look at the growing number of fans in the streets. His eyes were gradually fixed on the minority of female fans. After half an hour of research, he concluded that Real Madrid had the majority of female fans and that the young female fans were mostly pretty. He even saw female fans who were clearly not European. These people were crazy, coming all way from the other side of the world to watch a final match.
By contrast, most of the Nottingham Forest fans were from England. They did not have the international influence like Real Madrid, even if they had won more titles. First, their football was not nice to watch. Second, Tony Twain's unique personality made them lose a lot of neutral fans. Third, Nottingham Forest was a small club with no money to expand in the global market and no money to spread its influence globally. Fourth, Real Madrid could woo fans by constantly buying superstar players. Who was Nottingham Forest's biggest player? George Wood, the serious and unsmiling robot.
If it was a contest of wide disparity, Nottingham Forest was completely defeated.
The result was frustrating. There are so few beautiful women in this group, the young reporter lamented in his mind.
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After 5:30 p.m., two buses set off from two five-star hotels.
The white bus was followed by a group of media outlets, which closely followed the bus toward Bernabéu like sharks behind slave boats.
The red bus had nothing else other than a few police cars on the road. As Pierce Brosnan had stated, the reporters who surrounded the hotel were driven away by Twain. He did not want his team to be disturbed before such an important game. When those reporters cursed Tony Twain under the scorching sun as they helplessly left, Brosnan and his assistant contently sipped coffee under the shade of the umbrellas, admired the beautiful women, and enjoyed a leisurely afternoon.
Brosnan looked at his watch, patted the assistant on the shoulder, and got up. He said, ”It's time to work, kid.”
In the square in front of them, a commotion suddenly broke out.
A white bus quickly appeared in people's line of sight in the afterglow of the sunset. The milky-white body of the bus was dyed ivory yellow by the sun. The fans became excited. Waves of roars began to spread in the square.
Those sounds ignited the excitement around Bernabéu. Brosnan finally felt the atmosphere of the Champions League final approaching.
The two men walked quickly across the road and ran to the square. His assistant was holding the camera and changing the lens while he was looking for the best position.
The bus in which the Real Madrid players traveled on slowed down in the square. The players waved to the fans, triggering a burst of screams. It was as if everyone there was a Real Madrid fan.
”That's the home-field advantage,” Brosnan muttered. The assistant next to him kept taking pictures.
Javier Thomas was also in the crowd, waving excitedly at the players on the bus.
”Long live, Madrid!”
Such roars were heard around Bernabéu, where tens of thousands of Real Madrid fans gathered to witness the glorious night that belonged to them.
Soon after, Nottingham Forest's bus arrived. The Nottingham Forest fans who greeted them were about 10,000 people. Their voices were much smaller than the Real Madrid fans. Coupled with the fact that the police at the scene kept a tight grip on the extent of the English fans' range of activity, they could not even get close to the Forest bus. They could only watch the bus from a distance as it moved unobstructed through the square before it turned to the parking lot behind the stadium.
John and Bill led their people in the crowd and shouted a few sentences, ”Nottingham Forest will win!” They soon shut their mouths. They looked at the unfriendly looking policemen and spat on the ground as they said, ”We'll teach you a lesson when the game starts!”
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Martin could still hear shouts from Bernabéu, even though his position was more than a dozen kilometers away. He was worried about how he was going to get rid of a group of Chinese tourists and go watch the game. If the group of tourists came to him and wanted to check out Madrid at night after they had dinner, he did not know if he should refuse.
As he was alone worrying on the bus, he heard the sound of knocking on the window.
A Chinese man in the tour group stood outside the bus and smiled at him.
”Have you finished eating? How's the food? This is the best Chinese restaurant in Madrid!” Even though Martin's face still looked worried, he smiled attentively. He said, ”I'm not lying.”
”The food is really authentic. No doubt, it's the best Chinese restaurant in Madrid, Mr. Martin. But tonight, we would like to...”
Martin's mouth twitched for a little bit. His worst fear came true. Ah, ah! At the thought of not being able to watch such an important game made him hate his career. In the Champions League final at Bernabéu, one of the participating teams was his favorite, Real Madrid. How many times could he meet with such an opportunity in a lifetime?
”Ah I see, where would you like to go? How about going shopping on Calle de Serrano? It's the best famous street in Madrid! If you don't want to go there, you can still go...” Martin interrupted the other person and began to gush with recommendations, doing his duty as a tour guide.
The Chinese man quietly listened to Martin introduce all the places worth visiting in Madrid before he shook his head and said, ”We don't want to go to those places, Mr. Martin. We discussed and want to look for a cheap but lively place to spend the evening and experience Madrid's most common nightlife. Especially on a night like this...”
The Chinese man had given enough of a hint, and Martin was not a fool. He replied with a bright smile, ”I have a good idea! How about taking you all to a bar with the best atmosphere in Real Madrid for drinks and to watch the game? There are beautiful and friendly Spanish girls. More passionate than them are the football and beer! Haha!”
It was a truly wonderful night.