Tang En was lying on his big bed. He was awakened by the morning sun.
"Good morning, champion manager."
Shania was lying next to him, using her hair to draw circles on Tang En's chest.
Tang En squinted at the bright sunlight outside the window and asked vaguely, "What time is it?"
"9: 47." Shania glanced at the small alarm clock on the bedside table and continued to draw on Tang En's chest with her hair.
Tang En watched Shania play the game on his chest, and a warm feeling rose in his heart.
She was the most important person in his life, so he could not hide it any longer.
"Jordie."
"Huh?" Shania was a little surprised, and her movements stopped. Although "Jordie" was Shania's official nickname, Uncle Tony rarely called her that. He always called her by the name they first met, "Shania."
"Have you thought about where we're going during the holidays?"
Shania snapped back to reality and continued to draw circles. "We're going to Brazil. The World Cup will be held in Brazil anyway, and you're going to be a commentator. We can go visit my parents on the way, and then we'll have some fun. After that, you'll commentate, and I'll go to America. "Shania had already arranged for the future.
"That's a good idea." Tang En agreed with Shania's arrangement, but he still had a question. "What about after the World Cup?"
"Huh?" Shania stopped what she was doing again and looked up at Tang En. "You'll be returning to the team by then, right? Your team will start gathering and reporting on June 20th … "
Tang En looked at Shania with a smile and did not answer. The more Shania spoke, the more she felt something was wrong. Then she stopped talking and stared at Tang En, which meant, "Do you have anything to say to me, Uncle Tony?"
Tang En reached out and gently rubbed Shania's head. "Well, my contract with the club is about to expire, and I won't be renewing it." His tone was very calm, as if he was talking about something very ordinary.
Shania's reaction was not calm. This time, she directly propped her body up from the bed with both hands. She opened her mouth and stared at her husband in front of her.
"I have a lot of time to spend with you." Tang En smiled and opened his arms to pull Shania into his embrace.
Shania was still lying on Twain's chest and did not react. "This … You're not lying to me, are you, Uncle Tony?"
"It's not April Fool's today." Tang En pretended to be angry.
"Then … why? You just won the Treble for the Forest team … "Shania still could not understand. Logically speaking, Uncle Tony had just won the Treble and this should be the peak of his career. Why would he choose not to renew his contract at this time? "You're not going to another team, are you? Like Manchester United or something … "
Twain continued to smile. "Didn't I just say that I have more time to spend with you?"
Shania turned her face so that she could see Tang En's eyes. "What's the reason? I don't understand why you would choose to resign at this time. "
"First, I can spend more time with you. Secondly … "Tang En hesitated for a moment." I have a conflict with Allan Adams. It's a conflict that can affect my work. But he has a good relationship with the chairman. Obviously, I can only leave on my own. "
Shania knew that her husband and the marketing manager didn't get along. Back then, when Allan Adams forcefully intervened and sold Lennon, Tang En was still angry when he returned home for a few consecutive days. This caused Shania to worry for a long time, afraid that his heart would be agitated again. Because of this, her impression of that person was not very good. This reason was very sufficient. She no longer suspected that she was dreaming or that Uncle Tony was making fun of her again.
"So be it. My Uncle Tony is the greatest manager in the world. The people who want to hire him can line up from London to Paris." Shania used her hands to support her chin. She lay on the bed and swung her legs behind her.
"Hey, Shania. I'm talking about having more time to spend with you. "Tang En reminded her with slight surprise.
Shania glanced at Tang En. "If it's true, then it's good."
Tang En still wanted to defend himself, but Shania had already jumped off the bed. "I'll go cook for you. Are you hungry?"
With that, she skipped out of the room.
Tang En lay on the bed. He did feel hungry. But what concerned him more than the sound of his stomach was that Shania clearly did not believe his words.
He lay back on the bed in despair, looking at the ceiling and sighing.
What a failure. He had won so many championships. As long as he said he wanted to win the championship, the media, fans, and players would believe him. But he wanted to make his wife happy, but she did not believe him.
It was easy to win the championship, but hard to make his wife happy.
※ ※ ※
Italy's Serie A had long ended. Inter Milan, who did not reach the Champions League final, also disbanded the day after the league ended. As the team's manager, it was even more impossible for Mourinho to stay in Milan to continue working, even if he was a workaholic. At this time, he was comfortably basking in the sun on the beach of his hometown, Portugal's third largest port city, Setúbal.
Topless, wearing only a pair of floral shorts and sunglasses, the world's highest-paid manager was lying on a white beach chair. On the small round table next to him was a glass of whiskey with ice floating on it. Next to the glass was his cell phone, and under the phone was an open book.
There were many tourists on the beach. Most of them brought their families here for a holiday to relax. But Mourinho was alone. It was not because he and his wife were not on good terms. He just wanted to enjoy this time alone. Sometimes he liked it like this. Whether it was when he was thinking about a problem or when his mind was not thinking about anything, it was great to have this period of time where he could be alone and not be disturbed by anyone.
Unfortunately, today's undisturbed time did not last long.
The cell phone on the round table rang.
Mourinho did not pick it up at first. He lay on the chair and did not move, as if he was asleep. Anyway, he was wearing sunglasses. No one knew if he was sleeping with his eyes closed.
The cell phone rang for a while before automatically disconnecting. Mourinho did not even turn his head during the whole process. He was still enjoying this contented time that belonged only to him.
Soon, the phone rang again and did not disconnect after thinking for a long time. The man lying on the chair finally became a little impatient. He did not get up. He just reached for the phone with one hand, put the Bluetooth headset on his ear, and then pressed the call button. "Hello."
"José!" It was the voice of his agent and good friend, Mendes. "I have the latest news that I think you will be interested in."
"Is it still Manchester United?" Mourinho's voice was lazy, like the afternoon sun.
Since the end of the season, the English and Italian media had been hyping the rumor that Manchester United was interested in inviting Mourinho to replace Martin O 'Neill. In fact, this was not a rumor. There was no such thing as an airtight wall in this world. Tony Twain could hide the fact that he did not renew his contract with the club, but he could not hide it from The Sun. The affair between Mourinho and Manchester United naturally could not be hidden from the omnipotent reporters.
As Mourinho's agent, Mendes did have close contact with the Manchester United club. Manchester United wanted to restore its glory, so it naturally needed a big-name manager with a high standard and prestige. O 'Neill's ability was not bad, but he could not control the locker room. Originally, Tony Twain was the most suitable candidate. He was also the second godfather appointed by Manchester United's old godfather, Ferguson. Unfortunately, Twain was not interested in any other team except Nottingham Forest. Manchester United only found Mourinho because Manchester United knew that the relationship between Mourinho and Inter Milan was not a monolithic one.
Although Mourinho had the highest coaching salary in the world at Inter Milan, he was not happy there. The football environment in Italy was completely different from the English Premier League. As a team's manager, he had too many restrictions. It was like walking with shackles on his neck, wrists, and ankles. He could not say a lot of things because if he said it today, the media would refine it tomorrow. The day after that, President Moratti would look for him for a "long talk." The opposing managers always thought that Mourinho was nothing great. He was just an ordinary manager with a glib tongue and an unorthodox background. He could get the highest salary only because he knew how to package himself, which the Italian academic managers disdained to do. For them, football was football. It could not be mixed with anything else. The task of the manager was to train the team, formulate tactics, and direct the game. Becoming the team's number one star was a distraction.
Sometimes he really missed his days in England. Although there was a club chairman who liked to criticize everything, the air there was still free.
Like the sea breeze here, it was free and belonged only to him.
"No, it's not Manchester United this time." Mendes's voice sounded different from usual on the phone. Maybe the signal was a little distorted in the process of transmission, or maybe it was because Mendes's own mood had changed.
Mourinho soon knew the answer to this question.
"A club has joined the fight for your new position." Mendes tried to keep his tone and rhythm close to normal, but in fact, he was a little faster than usual. It could be heard that he was also very interested in the matter.
"Oh — —" Mourinho did not even raise his eyebrows. His tone was still lazy. He did not even ask which team it was. This kind of thing often happened. Anyway, whether it was Real Madrid or Manchester United, they were interested in him for a long time. What he was doing now was reaching out to pick up the wine glass on the table.
"It's also a Premier League team." Mendes still kept Mourinho in suspense, even though Mourinho did not cooperate at all. "This team has just made the headlines of the major sports media …"
Mourinho's hand, which was about to touch the wine glass, stopped. His other hand propped up his body. This was the biggest movement he made since he answered the phone. Because he was surprised.
Of course he knew which team Mendes was talking about.
"Nottingham Forest? How is that possible? " Mourinho was so surprised that his voice was much louder. The laziness just now was swept away, all evaporated by the hot afternoon sun.
Mendes smiled, very satisfied with his friend's reaction. "I have another piece of news, related to this."
"What?"
"Tony Twain's contract renewal with the club has fallen through. He has decided not to renew the contract and will leave automatically when his contract expires."
Mourinho's mood at this time could no longer be described as "surprised." Perhaps it could be described as "shocked." He still maintained his previous posture, his left hand curled up to support his body, and his right hand reached for the wine glass.
"Talks have fallen through? Is the salary too low? " This was the only reason Mourinho could think of. As one of the most successful managers in the world of football, Tony Twain's ultra-low salary had always been incomprehensible. Mourinho was the same.
"No. I got the news from another source. The Nottingham Forest Club has offered him the highest annual salary in the history of the English Premier League. "
The Portuguese coach was completely confused. Twain was not even satisfied with the highest annual salary. What else did he want?
"If you want to know the reason, you can call him. José. That's all I know. Twain treats this matter as a top secret. Now the media is still waiting for him to announce the success of the contract renewal with the club. "As a friend of Mourinho, Mendes naturally guessed what he was thinking at the moment.
Hearing this last sentence, the corner of Mourinho's mouth curved. He knew Twain was playing with the media.
However, he would not call Tang En. As he said many years ago, as long as they were both football managers, they would only be enemies, not friends.
After ending the call with Mendes, Mourinho lay down again and continued to enjoy the time that belonged only to him. But this time, his mind was no longer empty. Instead, it was like a raging storm on the sea.
That guy, Tony Twain, actually left Nottingham Forest, where he had been for 11 years … What exactly was going through his mind? Nottingham Forest had just achieved the great Treble. It was the time to dominate, but the manager had left. What would the future of this team be like? It was really worrying …
But in fact, Mourinho did not care about this. He only cared about which team Tony Twain would take over after leaving Nottingham Forest. In his view, Manchester United was undoubtedly the most likely. Manchester United had always been interested in Twain. In the past, because Twain did not want to leave the Forest team, there was no way to recruit him. Now …
After thinking for a while, Mourinho suddenly came back to his senses. Shouldn't this be Tony Twain's worry? Why was he blindly worrying?
Just as he cleared away the messy thoughts in his mind and prepared to continue pretending to sleep, his phone rang again.
He thought it was the latest news from Mendes, so he put on his headphones and answered the call. It was a familiar yet unfamiliar voice, and it sounded a little excited. "Hi, José! I've made an appointment for you to have a drink with me! "
Mourinho froze for a moment, and then realized that the person on the phone was the main character in his mind — Tony Twain.
"Didn't you quit drinking after your heart attack?"
"Some people must drink together. Drinking anything else won't do. Anyway, it's just this once. "
"I remember saying that unless we're no longer enemies in football, otherwise …"
Twain interrupted Mourinho. "Hey, I've already resigned from Nottingham Forest!"
"Manchester United is waiting for me."
Twain laughed. "I heard that they're more interested in you. Actually, I don't plan to continue as a coach. "
Mourinho was surprised by Twain's words. Then he thought it through again — it must be because of that heart. "But I'm in Portugal now."
"It's okay. I know you're going to commentate the World Cup for Portugal's TV station. I'm the same. I'll see you in Brazil! "Twain took Mourinho's words as an agreement to have a drink together.
Mourinho still wanted to say something, but Twain had already hung up. Judging from the sound, Twain was in a good mood. It was really strange that he could still be in such a mood after leaving the team he had poured his heart and soul into for 11 years …
He shook his head and lay down again. This time, he succeeded in pretending to sleep. No more phone calls came to disturb him.
※ ※ ※
The next day, the media finally waited for the news they had been longing for for a long time — Nottingham Forest Football Club was holding a press conference to announce the latest news of the contract renewal with Twain!
It seemed that Twain did not lie to them. Sure enough, the contract renewal work began after the Champions League, and there was a result in just three days.
But when a large group of reporters came to the scene in high spirits, they found that the person sitting on the podium was only Evan Doughty, and the other main character, Tony Twain, was not there.
For a moment, discussions broke out everywhere, and the ominous premonition in Pierce Brosnan's heart grew stronger with the discussions.
The press conference was brief.
Evan Doughty announced with a straight face that the contract renewal negotiations between the club and Twain had been terminated and that the two parties would not be renewing the contract, which immediately shocked all the reporters present. Even the reporters from The Sun, who had received some news before, felt their brains short-circuit after the rumors were confirmed.
Then, Evan Doughty reviewed the contributions that Twain had brought to the team, and said that no matter what Twain did in the future, he was a figure that Nottingham Forest Football Club would always remember, and he wished him good luck.
Having said that, Evan Doughty got up and walked out, ignoring the reporters who were shouting his name behind him.
The reporters were, of course, full of questions. Why did the contract renewal negotiations fail? Which party was responsible for it? Nottingham Forest had just won the Treble, but now there was a sudden change. What was the future like? Who would be Tony Twain's successor? Where would Tony Twain go after leaving the Forest team?
But there was no one who would come to answer them.
The venue suddenly became chaotic. Someone rushed out of the door and ran away, rushing back to be the first to release this news that would definitely shock the European football world.
Pierce Brosnan, on the other hand, took out his phone in a daze and dialed Twain's number.
No matter how many times he dialed, all he heard was, "… Sorry, the subscriber you dialed is powered off …"
※ ※ ※
When the tropical storm formed over the Atlantic Ocean, Tony Twain was sitting on a deck chair on Copacabana Beach in Rio de Janeiro. His wife, Shania, was playing in the sea in a bikini in front of him, and he was seriously writing postcards with his head down.
His phone was beside him, but it had long been switched off.
"Dear David, if you received this postcard, then you must know what happened. Thank you for spending 11 years with me. You were a good helper and partner in my work. I'm sorry that I lost my temper with you when I was in a bad mood, but from now on, I promise I won't yell at you anymore. You're an excellent assistant manager and you've done a good job in the team. I hope you can continue to do so. The team can't do without you. Please forgive me once again for using this method to say goodbye to you, because I really don't know how I should face you all again … "
At this point, Twain stopped and raised his head to look at his wife not far away. The Brazilian sun was very bright. He narrowed his eyes to admire the energetic and sexy figure for a while, then lowered his head to continue writing.
"… Good luck. Yours faithfully, from your most loyal friend, Tony Twain. "
After writing this one, he picked up the next blank postcard, placed it on his thigh, and continued to write with his head down. Occasionally, he would raise his head to look at Shania's figure and stare blankly for a while.
The weather was good that day. The salty and humid sea breeze blew the branches and leaves of the palm trees by the beach. The azure sea water was driven up and down by the wind, rushing up and down on the white fine sand. The tide rose and fell amidst the crashing sound. The warm sun shone on everyone's face, reflecting their different expressions. Against the sapphire-like sky, Copacabana Beach was bustling with activity, packed with people, and bustling with activity.
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