Following the sound of a ding, a flurry of footsteps came from the direction of the elevator. Tang En, who was sitting by the window in the lobby and drinking tea, turned his head.
The players were coming out of the elevator after a short break. Some of them were even yawning. Des Walker quickly walked out from among the players and turned to look at the elevator, urging loudly, "Hurry up, hurry up! Don't look like you're still asleep. It's not afternoon tea time! "
Ever since he had determined the goal and direction of the team's struggle for this season, the man had also recovered his passion for work overnight.
Tang En looked down at the watch on his wrist. It was 13: 55. The time for the team to set off was just right. He put the teacup in his hands back on the table and folded the newspaper on his knees before placing it back on the newspaper rack beside his seat. Then, he got up and walked towards the main entrance of the hotel.
It was nearly two o 'clock in the afternoon on December 17th. They were at the Scotton Hotel in South London. A red bus with the words "Nottingham Forest" and the Forest logo was quietly parked at the entrance, waiting to take them to their destination, Newburgh Stadium.
Seeing their manager standing by the door without saying a word, the players unconsciously jogged and hurried to get on the bus. Some players did not understand why their manager was unhappy when they had just defeated their direct competitor, Crystal Palace, to avoid relegation in the league tournament.
Almost no one had seen Manager Tony Twain smile since the start of training the day after the match.
All the players got on the bus. Walker walked to Tang En's side and said, "Tony, everyone's here."
"Yeah. Where's the coaching staff? "
"They left first with their equipment."
Tang En nodded. "Alright, let's go."
Just as he was about to step into the bus, he suddenly heard someone call him from behind. "Mr. Tang! Wait a minute! Mr. Tang, wait a minute! "
"Ah, Bruce." Tang En turned his head and saw the Nottingham Evening Post reporter, Pierce Bruce, panting as he ran out of the lobby with a small black leather notebook in his hand. "What's the matter?"
Bruce ran up to him in one breath. With his hands on his knees, he bent over and panted heavily. After a while, he got up and looked at the bus. He said to Tang En in a broken voice, "I'm … sorry. Can, can you give me a ride?"
The request surprised Tang En a little. "Let the reporters get on the team bus … Brosnan, your request is really … different."
"I'm really, really sorry … I overslept. My colleagues are all gone. They … they must have thought that I left first, "Bruce explained awkwardly and helplessly.
"You can call a taxi." Twain pointed to the street outside.
"My … my wallet was in my bag, and my colleagues took it …" Bruce said with a red face.
Tang En sighed. He looked at the pitiful unlucky fellow and thought about how he had spoken up for him in the papers. Now that he was in trouble, it would be inexcusable for him not to help.
Walker got into the car and realized that Tang En did not follow him. The players all turned their heads to look out the window, so he jumped out of the car again. "What's wrong? Tony … "He saw the Evening Post reporter standing beside Tang En. "Bruce, this is not the time for an interview."
"Mr. Walker, I'm not interviewing …"
Tang En interrupted him and said to Walker, "He's a pitiful soul who was abandoned by his companions because he overslept. Now he needs a ride."
Then he waved at Bruce. "Get in the car! You should be glad that you're not a woman … "
There were some taboos in professional football that could not be ignored no matter which country one was in. For example, there was an absolute rule that forbade women and players from riding on the same bus. That would be seen as an ominous sign of failure. That was why Tang En said that. If Bruce was a female reporter, then even if Tang En agreed, the rest of the team would firmly oppose letting a woman get on the bus and go to Newden Stadium with them. Before an important game, everyone would become very sensitive and superstitious.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Tang! And Mr. Walker, thank you … "Bruce thanked the two coaches gratefully. He wanted to come up and shake their hands, but Tang En slapped him into the car.
"Cut the crap! We've already delayed long enough. If you want to thank us, continue to put in good words for us in the papers! "
"Of course, of course …" Bruce stumbled as he climbed onto the bus. Seeing a group of players sizing him up with curious eyes, he waved and greeted them, a little embarrassed. "Hello, hello everyone … I, uh, I …"
Just as he did not know how to explain his embarrassment, Tang En came up from behind and pointed at him. He said loudly to the players, "This guy is an unlucky Evening Post reporter who overslept and is penniless!"
"Boohoo —" Jeers and laughter immediately rang out in the car.
"Mr. Reporter, the headline on tomorrow's Nottingham Evening Post's front page will not be the news of us advancing to the EFL Cup semi-finals, but you!" A player shouted, which triggered even more laughter from the players. Even Tang En had a smile on his face. He patted Bruce on the shoulder and gestured for him to sit down next to him.
"No matter what you see or hear on this bus. I don't want to see it in the papers the next day. I'm just giving you a ride, not allowing you to interview me. "
Bruce nodded. "Don't worry, Mr. Tang. I know what I should say and what I shouldn't say. "
"That's good. I'm giving you a ride because I trust you." With that, Tang En stood up and raised his arms, shouting, "Drive! Let's go to Millwall's home ground and beat up those bastards! "
"Oh —!!" The players waved their fists and echoed in unison. The drowsiness from just getting out of bed was swept away.
Brosnan secretly wiped the sweat off his brow. No wonder Tony Twain did not allow him to report what he had seen and heard to the newspapers. Perhaps these things would only be revealed in the future when he retired and planned to write a personal biography about Nottingham Forest, Tony Twain, or even himself.
※ ※ ※
The red bus made its way through the heavy traffic on the London roads. At this time, the traffic on any road leading to Newburgh Stadium was expected to be high. Other people did not pay much attention to the game, but the Millwall fans who lived nearby did. They flocked to Newburgh Stadium from all directions to watch the EFL Cup quarter-finals. Half a season had passed, and Millwall was still in the middle of the league table. It looked like it would be difficult for them to get promoted to the Premier League next season, so they placed more hopes on the EFL Cup and FA Cup, which were the "hotbeds of underdogs."
Along the way, cars carrying Millwall fans could be seen driving past the Forest team's bus. The fans in blue and white Millwall jerseys would stick their heads out of the windows when they saw the red Forest bus, grinning and waving their fists at them. They would raise their middle fingers and yell vulgarities that could be understood just by looking at their lips.
Seeing these people, Tang En would think of Mark Hodge. The usually amiable middle-aged man would turn into a detestable beast the moment he came into contact with alcohol in the stands. But even so, he was still a far cry from Millwall's football hooligans.
After Gavin's incident, Tang En never heard the man's name again. He also never went to the Robin Hood bar where the football hooligans gathered. Perhaps Hodge had left football, just like Michael. Perhaps he was still active in the stands, but his identity was that of an ordinary fan. Or perhaps he was now leading his men in a corner of the metropolis of London, out of the reach of the cameras and the police, to fight against the Millwall football hooligans who defeated them on the "battlefield" last season. For their glory …
These people were not only a dark spot in football, but also in the entire British society. It was almost impossible to eradicate them. No matter how the government cracked down on them, the football hooligans who came from the grassroots and rooted here would always accompany the development of the sport, just like the shadows under our feet. Perhaps some people would sympathize with them and understand them, just like they did in the beginning. There might even be people who supported, envied, and wanted to join them to become the new football hooligans, waving their fists and fighting passionately for the glory of their own clubs and teams.
Since the beginning of the 21st century, there had been signs of a revival in Britain's domestic football hooligans. They had learned to assemble teams on the Internet and discuss strategies to fight against rival clubs as well as routes to their destinations. This caught the police off guard. Tang En was not a saint who loved all things in the world, and he was powerless to stop these young people whose minds were filled with a mixture of muscle and alcohol. He only hoped that a tragedy like Gavin's would not happen to him again. The last time, he regretted not stopping the fight in time. Now, he would not allow anyone to hurt his friends, as well as everyone in his life.
Tang En, who came back from his thoughts, suddenly realized that the scene he saw outside the window had not changed for a while. He turned his head to look in front, and then to the back.
The car stopped, surrounded by cars that had stopped like them.
"Des, what's going on?" he asked Walker, who was in front.
Walker turned back and shrugged. "I don't know. We're stuck here."
Tang En stood up and looked inside the car. The players did not seem to have noticed anything strange. They were all busy with their own things. They listened to music, closed their eyes to rest, made phone calls, or chatted with their teammates.
So, he sat down again. He did not know what had happened in front. In short, they were stuck in a traffic jam. He had no choice but to wait patiently. He hoped that it was only temporary, and that it would not delay the start of the match.
He cast his gaze out the window again. He could not see the end of the traffic in front of him, nor could he see the end of it. There were cars all around him. Even if he wanted the driver to turn the car around and find another way out, he could not do it.
The impatient car horns outside the car sounded more and more frequently. Tang En was disturbed by the sharp and ear-piercing sounds. He suddenly had an ominous feeling. It was like the dark clouds in the sky, accumulating more and more.
When the bus driver could not help but press the horn in frustration, the players in the car gradually began to notice the situation outside. Some people stood up and looked around. Some took off their headphones and pointed outside the window to discuss with others. Some people opened their eyes from their nap and looked strangely at the traffic that had stopped outside the window. Tang En noticed the small commotion in the car. He looked back and then waved his hand down. He said loudly, "Everyone, sit down. Continue with what you're doing!"
The car regained its silence. However, Tang En could not erase the puzzled and surprised expressions on the players' faces.
The dark clouds in his heart were also gradually gathering because of the endless car horns outside and the traffic that showed no signs of moving forward.
He looked down at his watch. It was half past two.
The match kickoff time was three o 'clock sharp!
Just then, Walker's and Brosnan's phones rang at the same time.
Walker looked at the number and said to Tang En, "It's from the coaching staff." He then pressed the answer button.
Brosnan also looked down at the number and said to Tang En apologetically, "It's my colleague." He then got up and walked to the front of the car to answer the call.
"Hello? You're all here. Us? We're still on the road. "Walker looked up at the motionless street outside the car window. "There's a traffic jam. It's serious! Yes. Why? Have they started warming up? "His voice became anxious as he looked at Tang En.
Tang En looked down at his watch again. A minute had passed. There were only 29 minutes left until the start of the match.
Damn it all! He cursed in his heart.
On the other side, at the front of the car, Brosnan's voice grew louder. "Yes, yes. I'm sorry, Mr. Robson. I overslept. I'm in the same car as Forest. I hitched a ride with them. No, I think we're stuck in a traffic jam. What? A car accident?! " Brosnan could not help but scream. He then turned his head to look at Tang En apologetically, hoping that he was not angry. "Are you sure, Mr. Robson? Sure. Uh, I don't know if I can still … "He looked at the players who had all stood up and did not continue.
The players in the car could no longer stay quiet. They stood up in panic and looked around, whispering to each other.
Tang En no longer asked them to be quiet. In fact, he could not ask for it. He turned his head to look out the window. His ears were filled with the incessant sounds of horns that made people even more anxious. He forced himself to calm down in such an environment. At this time, everyone on the team had their eyes on him. They placed all their hopes on him. He was the team's manager. He was the person whom everyone would choose to trust in times of emergency. He must not show the slightest hint of panic.
Suddenly, he saw a building that looked like the entrance to an underground tunnel.
He got up from his seat and walked to the driver's side. He asked, "How far are we from the stadium?"
"About five miles, sir." The driver looked at the map displayed on the GPS satellite locator in the car and answered.
Tang En nodded. "Please open the car door!"
Then he turned to the bewildered players in the car and said, "Guys, I have good news now. You don't have to go to the stadium to warm up later." He pointed to the open car door. "I also have bad news. Leave all the bits and pieces on you in the car. Then, all of you, run down! We'll take the subway! "
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