While the outside world was hyping up the revival of football hooligans and the death of an innocent boy, George Wood was still doing his boring basic training day after day in the youth base's No. 2 training ground. It was as if he and the world were two different planes. He did not care about any news from the outside world, nor did he care about it. There was only one thought in his mind: to reach his coach's goal one day earlier, to play in matches, and to earn money for his mother's treatment.
Until one day, he saw Tang En appear on the sidelines dressed in black. He called his coach over, and the two of them whispered a few words. Then the coach left, and Tang En walked towards him. Although Tang En always wore black clothes, black trousers, black leather shoes, and even wore sunglasses on cloudy days, the feeling he gave Wood today was different. The black suit he was wearing was newer and straighter.
"George," he said to Wood in a low voice. "You … don't have to train tomorrow."
Wood did not say anything. He knew Tang En must have something to say.
"Do you have a black suit?" Tang En asked, pointing to what he was wearing.
Wood shook his head.
Looking down at his watch, Tang En waved at Wood. "You don't have to train now. Come with me. "
"Where to?" Wood did not move.
"To buy you a suit, a shirt, and a tie."
"I don't like to wear those things …" Wood was reluctant to leave. He did not want to waste time dressing himself up.
"Do you think I dressed you up to invite you to some banquet? Do you remember … where you gave an autograph to a child? "Tang En said, pointing to the barbed wire in the distance.
Wood nodded. That was the first time he gave an autograph to an admirer. He would probably never forget such a scene.
"Do you know what his name is?"
Wood shook his head. He did not ask, and no one told him.
"Gavin. Gavin Bernard. Remember this name. We'll go to his funeral tomorrow morning. "
George Wood froze.
Gavin's grandmother was supported to the side by someone. She wore a black hat, and the hanging wire covered her face, making it impossible to see her expression. She was going to go up to speak later, but Tang En was worried if the old woman could bear the pain …
Michael's wife was limp in his arms, her eyes staring blankly at Gavin's aunt, who was sobbing. It had been almost a week since the incident, but the pain left behind by the family had not lessened at all.
On the left side of the church were Gavin's relatives, school classmates and teachers, while on the right side were Michael's friends and the Forest team's coaches.
Wood was sitting next to him. He was wearing the black suit, white shirt, and tie that he had sold to him yesterday. He sat in his seat with his lips pursed and did not say a word. Unlike the others around him who were obviously sad, there was no expression on his face.
Tang En felt that perhaps he could understand this child, because he was now the same as him.
So far, George Wood's only fan, his admirer, was lying in a cold, black coffin at this moment. He would never ask him for an autograph again, and he would never watch him train on the sidelines again.
Because everyone was too sad, the relatives who went up to the stage quickly ended their speeches. The priest said the final prayer, and then the coffin was lifted. The crowd made their way to the cemetery behind the church.
There was no mourning music played at the funeral. Michael chose Eric Clapton's "Tears in Heaven" for his beloved son who had died young. The deep sound of a wooden guitar accompanied by Clapton's hoarse singing broke the hearts of those who heard it.
If I see you in heaven, will you still remember my name?
If I see you in heaven, can we still be like before?
If … we … we can never go back to how we were … right?
The black wooden coffin was carefully lowered. Tang En noticed that it was covered with a small-sized Forest jersey. There were large patches of dark red bloodstains on the chest and collar area. Amidst the bloodstains, Wood's name was still conspicuous. He gently tossed the lily in his hand onto the coffin, which happened to cover the Forest team emblem.
Wood, who was behind him, knelt on one knee and carefully placed the flower in his hand on his name before he got up and left with Tang En.
Standing outside, Tang En watched as the crowd came forward one by one to offer flowers in silent tribute. The players would consciously come to his side after offering flowers. Just like that, more and more people gathered around him. He counted. Not one was missing. The First Team was all here. The youth team's director, David Kerslake, was also here. Michael Dawson was perhaps the saddest person among them. Among the players, he and Michael had known each other the earliest and had the best relationship. It could be said that Michael had watched Dawson go from a nobody to a professional star player. Michael had lost his son. Dawson had also lost his brother.
Tang En patted Dawson's shoulder but did not know how to comfort him.
In the end, he sighed. "Go back and have a good rest. There's still a game tomorrow …"
Watching the crowd gradually disperse, Tang En found that Wood was still by his side. He felt a little strange. "You go back too. You don't have to train today. Spend time with your mother."
Wood nodded and turned to leave. Tang En called out to him again. "George, you must become a big star player!"
George pursed his lips and nodded vigorously.
"Go back." Tang En waved his hand. Wood turned and strode away from the depressing place.
After Wood left, Tang En glanced at Michael, who was still comforting his wife. He felt that it was better not to disturb them at this time, even if it was just to say goodbye.
He decided to go to Burns' bar for a drink and get drunk. He should be fine after a good night's sleep.
Walking to the entrance of the cemetery, he saw Pierce Brosnan, the reporter from the Nottingham Evening Post, panting as he ran over. To be honest, Tang En hated the media even more because of the Gavin incident. It affected his evaluation of all those who worked in the media.
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
