Godfather Of Champions Chapter 213: This Is My Team Part 2

Chapter 213: This Is My Team Part 2

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

After saying that to Wood, Tang En turned to face the rest of the players in the locker room. He spread his arms out and said, "Everyone, remember this. This is a Premier League match on our home turf. It's a match that we have to take down if you don't want to be kicked back into the EFL at the end of this season. So, we can't allow the Londoners to do whatever they want. I hope you understand. Regardless of how we see this match, a.r.s.enal intends on including this match in their plans, and to celebrate making history with a new record. It's not my style to let my enemies celebrate their successes on my home ground."

Tang En shrugged and continued. "I've already told you about the tactics we'll be using in our match today. I believe everyone knows what to do."

Everyone nodded to show that they understood their duties. Tang En placed both palms onto the table with the tactical board and looked hard at his players. Some of them were older than he was, but he had never doubted his own ability to lead this team. Even if the original, "real Tony Twain" were to be found, Tang En did not worry that his place would be stolen from him.

This was a team that belonged completely to him. He wanted to give this team his ideals, his understanding of football, his persistence towards victory, his hatred of failure, and his greed for the champions.h.i.+p. He wanted to instill all these into the team. He would brand his person on Nottingham Forest, just like old man Clough. Whenever the Red Forest that once swept across Europe and England's football was mentioned, Clough's name would also be heard.

In several years' time, he hoped that people would talk about Tony Twain and his Nottingham Forest.

"Guys, you need to remember: Nottingham Forest fears no opponent. Whether it is Liverpool, who were UEFA Champions for three years in five, or a.r.s.enal, who has an undefeated 42-match streak of no losses… Go get 'em!"

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Fàbregas stood with the away team in the waiting area. Just beside him was the home team, Nottingham Forest. It was unknown if this Spanish boy, who had been in UK for less than a year, had already memorised the 20 teams in the Premier League. Regardless, the name "Nottingham Forest" would be the most unforgettable one he encountered in his football career.

When he was the part of the main core of a.r.s.enal's youth team, it was Nottingham Forest that had dragged him, from high up in the clouds, straight down into the mud, teaching him that English football was not as easy to deal with as he had imagined. He would remember for life the match he had played in mud and heavy rain, in the FA Youth Cup.

And there was one other person he could not forget.

Even though the starting formation of Forest included his Spanish comrade Hierro, Fàbregas barely gave him a glance, seeming uninterested in greeting his senior. Instead, as he stood among his team members, he looked only diagonally ahead with his eyes focused on one Forest player.

He was in a red Forest jersey with "13, G.Wood" written on the back. After that setback, Fàbregas had hoped in his heart that he could some day pit himself against Wood again. He had not expected that day to come so quickly. It had not even been a full year, and he was already going to meet him on the field for a second time. The difference between now and then is that it was no longer a low-level compet.i.tion like the FA Youth Cup. Now, they were representing England's highest level of compet.i.tion: in the English Premier League!

Fàbregas was not a jot surprised to see his "old rival" in the starting formation of Forest team. After that match with him, he could tell that the quiet little guy was not just some mediocre player. In such a weak team, it was always easier for the young to grab the limelight. Hadn't Piqué already told him that? He had chosen Forest simply for a higher chance of getting fielded and receiving more training. Otherwise, why wouldn't he have gone to Manchester United or a.r.s.enal instead?

But Gerard Piqué was in the subst.i.tutes' list while this lad was part of the main force… George Wood, how much stronger have you already become?

Fàbregas had been staring at Wood in a daze while someone called his name in Spanish. With a start, he realised it was Hierro from Forest, smiling and greeting him. It must have been fate to be able to meet another Spaniard here, not to mention that they were once each other's rivals in the domestic league.

"What are you looking at, Cesc?" Fàbregas had no time to look away before Hierro managed to follow his gaze, finding his teammate George Wood at the end of it. Hierro smiled knowingly. After the match schedule for the league matches were announced and it was known that the third match was to be with a.r.s.enal, Wes Morgan spared no effort relating to the new recruits how George Wood had once single-handedly managed to freeze out Fàbregas. After hearing the story, Hierro could more or less understand the grudge between the two youths.

Despite the rivalry between Real Madrid and Barcelona in Spain, they were both Spaniards, so Hierro still knew a little about Barcelona's Youth team players, such as Fàbregas. According to rumours, Fàbregas had once been looked upon as the successor of Pep Guardiola and Xavi. Even without seeing Fàbregas play, Hierro knew enough about Pep Guardiola to understand how good Fàbregas must be. If George Wood could successfully freeze out such a player, whose successor could he be called?

To save Fàbregas from embarra.s.sment, Hierro thought quickly and changed the topic. "Are you looking for Piqué? He isn't in the starting line-up."

Fàbregas nodded. "That's too bad, I noticed that too."

Now that they no longer played for their old teams, there was less bl.u.s.tering and aggression in the air, even as opponents. Hierro joked, "Look at us. You're from Barcelona and I'm from Madrid, but even when we were in Spain we didn't get to play with each other. Now that we've come here, we are…"

On mention of the two teams, Fàbregas started laughing. "But I've jeered at you, Hierro… from the spectators' stand." The 'War of the Century" that Hierro used to be a part of had had no shortage of heated exchanges. On the field, this Spanish player from Barcelona, clad in his white jersey, had showed no mercy and toppled anyone who tried to breakthrough his iron guard. For that, he probably received the most boos and jeers. But that was several years ago.

Hierro laughed too. "What a coincidence. Piqué had said that to me before as well…"

The two of them stood in the players' walkway and made small talk with seemingly no air of tension for the impending match. On the other hand, George Wood kept a straight back and stared forward into the entrance to the stadium with an apparent lack of interest in the conversations around him.

Hierro was a veteran who had already experienced countless important matches; he knew how to pace himself mentally and physically. Meanwhile, for George Wood, so long as Tony Twain commanded it, he would execute it faithfully.

And Twain had said, "a.r.s.enal is our enemy! We have to defeat them!"

Wood resolved to look upon the people around him as his enemies and refused to make contact with them; his mind was filled only with thoughts of defeating them. Though his might seem like a one-track mind, it was exactly what Tang En liked about him.

The three referees ahead of the teams looked back and gave the signal for their entrance. Immediately, Hierro nodded to Fàbregas and their conversation came to an end. The smiles on their faces vanished in an instant, and just like that, the air of tension before any important match returned to the players' corridor.

There was no longer chatter or whispering of any kind.

The broadcast in the stadium rang out with a loud voice. "Let us welcome competing teams, a.r.s.enal and Forest!"

"Alright, it's us!"

"Time to go!"

The captains from both teams shouted as they led their teams out.

Waves of cheering from the spectator's stand greeted them, was.h.i.+ng over each of their proud faces.