Chapter 81: The Reception Part 2

Chapter 81: The Reception Part 2

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

Tang En did not know what was wrong with what he had just said. In short, there was an awkward silence.

Luckily, Robson quickly rescued Twain from the awkward situation. He smiled and said, "Maybe, maybe not. Mr. Twain, did you know I was born in Newcastle, but I didn't get the chance to coach my hometown team until I was 66 years old? Before that, I wandered everywhere, Holland, Portugal, Spain... Mr. Twain, you are much luckier than I, this old man. So, would you like the League Managers Association to provide you with legal assistance for those troublesome charges?"

Tang En shook his head and declined Robson's kind offer. "Thank you, Sir, but I have found a lawyer who will file the lawsuit on my behalf."

"That's good." Robson nodded and said, "Put aside your troubles and enjoy the reception. Have a good time." After that, both Robson and Clough left and walked toward a group of old men. They were the ex-managers of the England National Team. Or perhaps they were rivals when they were managers, but that did not stop them from drinking and chatting together after their retirements.

That was life and football.

No one introduced or warmly welcomed him into the circle, and Tang En had some doubts about Clough's intention in bringing him to the reception. He had not received an invitation from the League Managers Association before. Had Clough purely done it on a whim, or was it because his son, Nigel, had to leave and needed someone to accompany the old man who had just recovered from his operation?

Tang En stood at the door and sized up the lively venue. It was a large bar, but it was not as dazzling and high-society as Tang En had imagined. It was just a bigger place than the average bars people gathered to chat and drink in. People were coming and going as they pleased. Tang En knew some of them back when he was a fan and had seen their faces on television. He also saw rivals he had encountered when he coached the Forest team. But he did not know most of their names and backgrounds.

Ferguson was surrounded by a lot of people who were congratulating the Premier League Manager of the Decade and paying him all sorts of compliments. Flattery was not exclusive to any nation or race; it was popular everywhere. Ferguson smilingly accepted the congratulations from the others. He was in a very good mood after Manchester United overturned Arsenal and won the Premier League title for that season.

But Tang En did not intend to join in the fun. Firstly, he and Sir Alex were not familiar with each other. Secondly, he had a proud character and did not like to follow the crowd. If the crowd were to leave Sir Alex Ferguson alone at this point, he would take the initiative to go up and congratulate him. But if most people were doing the same thing, he would think it was beneath his dignity to do so. He did not necessarily dislike Ferguson and his accomplishments. It was purely driven by his character.

Everyone liked to join in the fun, but he deliberately stayed in the corner. Just like his regular seat in the Forest Bar, he was in the farthest corner. He had walked around till he was in a corner with no one. He coolly watched the group of people and did not step into the excitement of this circle. These men were the managers of the professional clubs, the real managers. But he was nothing but a substitute who was fired.

Ferguson was the focal point of the room. Even standing before these accomplished retirees, he knew he could have a place that belonged to him.

Tang En randomly found an empty seat and slowly sipped his whisky. Feeling slightly bored, he started playing the "spot a familiar face" game to see how many faces he could recognize.

He recognized a lot of faces that he had previously heard of in name, but had rarely seen. However, he did not see two foreign managers in the crowd. One was Claudio Ranieri, the manager of Chelsea, which was rumored to be in the middle of an acquisition. Perhaps many people in this room did not know what was going to happen, but Tang En knew that very soon, The Tinkerman, Claudio Ranieri, was about to become the object of their jealousy. It was June 27th. If he remembered correctly, on July 1st or 2nd, the Chelsea officials would publicly announce that Abramovich was the official new owner of the London club. Bates had originally bought the Chelsea club for just £1, and now he had sold it for £60,000,000. And with all his debts totally wiped cleaned, it was a good deal. Tang En had a regret: why had he not transmigrated to before 1982, and then been ahead of this Jewish man to buy Chelsea at the cost of a pound?

The other one was Ferguson's arch-rival in the Premier League for a decade, the French manager of Arsenal, Arsène Wenger.

Tang En thought about it, and Wenger's absence was understandable. This Frenchman was almost incompatible with the entire English football community. He never sat down with a rival manager after a match to have a drink. Even though that was an English football tradition, "Le Professeur" Wenger had no intention of following it. In his view, many of the English football traditions were decadent and deep-seated problems that blocked the development of football in the country.

In this respect, Tang En fully agreed. He too did not think that it was a good tradition to smoke and drink during halftime and discuss how to play in the second half.

While Tang En was in a daze, someone came up beside him. "Excuse me, has someone taken this seat?" he asked politely. Tang En did not respond, and he reflexively shook his head.

"Thank you." The person sat down and put out his hand to introduce himself to Twain. "Hello, I'm David Moyes."

Upon hearing this name, Tang En slightly shook his body to pull himself out of his reverie and turned to look at the young manager with some surprise. He had slightly pale skin, a skinny, sharp face, light-brown short hair, and gray eyes. It was the Everton manager, David Moyes!

"Ah! Hello, I'm Tony Twain. Very nice to meet you." Tang En quickly reached his hand out to respond in kind.

"Likewise." Moyes took back his hand and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Why are you sitting here alone?"

"I'm not too fond of crowds," said Tang En with a shrug, and then he suddenly remembered that he had forgotten one thing. "Congratulations on winning the LMA Manager of the Year last season."

"Thank you." Moyes gave a modest smile. Last season was the first time he had managed a Premier League team. He had not expected to succeed. Tang En favored this young manager because he had followed the Everton matches closely. Everton received the sponsorship of the Chinese Electronics firm, Kejian, in the 02-03 season. Two Chinese players came to the team to try out and train. Finally, Li Tie successfully remained to play in the Premier League and wore an Everton jersey with Chinese characters printed on the chest.

Tang En did not know what to say next. They would have fallen into an awkward silence, but Moyes suddenly spoke up. "I remember now, Mr. Twain. You're the manager of Nottingham Forest!"

The words stabbed at Tang En's sore spot. He shook his head and smiled bitterly, "I used to be."

"Although I'm managing a Premier League team, our family still regularly watches Preston North End's matches. My eldest son is a loyal fan of Preston North End. He sometimes talked to me about PNE's opponents, but he talked the most about Nottingham Forest. Do you know why?"

Tang En did not answer. He just looked at the smiling Moyes.

"Because the Forest team has an impressive manager. My son said so. The Forest team was the team with the biggest difference in their performance between the first and second half of the season. If you're worried about where to go, it would be better to go to Preston North End. I believe the people there would welcome you."

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Behind the three phone numbers in Tang En's pocket, there was no Preston North End name. But Moyes's remarks tempted him a little. He sat in his seat and pondered. Moyes did not bother him. He just drank his wine.

At this time, Tang En saw Clough wave to him from the crowd. He quickly apologized to Moyes beside him. "I'm sorry, the Boss is calling me. It was nice to meet you."

Moyes shook hands with him. "Me too. I hope that one day we can meet on the field. That would be very exciting!"

After saying goodbye to Moyes, Tang En went to Clough's side and found two Asians with black hair standing next to the old man. They were a man and a woman, and they looked like reporters. "What's the matter, Boss?"

"Well, go and help me call Bobby over here."

Tang En nodded. His attention was more focused on the woman. She looked very young, about twenty-something years old. She was dressed in a light gray suit with a pair of slender legs underneath her short skirt. The only thing about her that Tang En somewhat disliked was her short hair. With her back facing him, he could not see her face, so Tang En only quickly glanced at her and turned to look for Robson.

It was easy to spot him because his silver hair was quite striking. Tang En brought Robson to Clough and Clough pointed out Robson to the two reporters and spoke. "These two Chinese reporters asked me why I let you be the manager of the England National Team." When Greenwood left the position of the England National Team manager in 1982, the calls for Clough to take over the position were more than for anyone else. But in the end, it was Bobby Robson who became the manager.

When they heard that Robson had come, the two reporters turned back. At this point, Tang En was able to see the female reporter's appearance. Tang En breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her pretty face with light make up. He was glad that she did not belong to the "when seen from behind, one wants to get closer, but when seen from the front, one wants to run way" type which was popular back home. Her features were exquisite and quite Eastern Asian. She was indeed Chinese. As for the other male reporter, Tang En automatically ignored him.

The two reporters were rather excited when they saw Robson, and Twain was naturally ignored by them.

Robson laughed when he heard Clough's question. "That was because everyone knew you didn't want to deal with the damn Football Association!"

The reporters laughed, too, and Tang En stood behind them, as quiet and low-key as a personal attendant. His gaze was fully on the beautiful Chinese female reporter. Watching her cover her mouth while she laughed happily, he felt that he did not waste his time coming here today. It was better to have a beautiful woman to admire, than to look up and see a sea of men.

The two Chinese reporters chatted with Robson for a while and left with satisfaction. Tang En's "scenic view" also ended with their departure, so he returned to his corner. Moyes had been pulled by someone to celebrate his first personal award. When he looked at the 39-year-old Moyes who was surrounded by the crowd and showing a smile of success, Tang En felt bile rising in his throat. He never thought he was weaker than others, but this time he had lost at the starting line.

He loathed failure and did not want to be a loser. But on this occasion, he was the biggest loser. Tang En did not understand why Clough had brought him here. He felt annoyed just observing the lively chatter of these people. Ferguson, Eriksson, Moyes... Finding himself among these big-name managers, he had no intention of being a groupie, because he considered all of them his rivals.

One day, Tang En will defeat you all, one by one! This was not an ignorant fellow's fantasy. This was an oath he pledged to himself deep within his heart.

Taking his physical condition into account, Brian Clough and Tang En took their leave of everyone after the cold buffet lunch. They were warm in their farewells, but almost everyone did not seem to see Twain standing beside Clough. For these professional managers, they had seen too many newcomers like Twain, so they did not care about him.

In that circle, if one wanted to gain everyone's attention, wanted other people to surround one, wanted to receive their approval, it was necessary to prove oneself.

Tang En had really wanted to ask Clough exactly why he brought him there once they were in the car. But as soon as he got into the car, the old man dozed off in the back seat. In his light snoring, they returned to Nottingham from Sheffield.

Tang En told Nigel he was not going straight to his house. He wanted to visit the Forest training ground to see it again.

When the car stopped at the gate of the Forest team youth training camp, Tang En and Nigel said goodbye. Then he looked at the Boss who had his eyes closed and seemed to be fast asleep. He opened the door and was ready to get out of the car. Just that moment, he heard Clough's old and faint voice ring out, "Son."

Tang En looked back at Clough with his eyes still shut.

"Nowadays, a lot of people still mention my achievements and glory in this city from time to time." Clough leaned against the seat and murmured, "I had led my team to win two European Cups, one Premier League title, four League Cups, one UEFA Super Cup, 42 consecutive undefeated matches... What do you think of such achievements?"

"Impressive," answered Tang En.

"Then how about when I lost three matches out of six, set the second worst coaching record of the club's history and was dismissed after 44 days, what do you think of that result?"

"Er..." Tang En did not know how to answer the question.

"Now, there are very few people who will mention that period when I was the manager of Leeds United." The old man sighed. Perhaps that was one of the regrets he had in his career as a manager. "Let's go home, Nigel."

All the while, the old man did not open his eyes.

Tang En said goodbye to the two men and got out of the car. Then he stood on the side of the road and watched the white Ford sedan disappear at the end of the avenue. With the wind stirring up his hair and clothes, he thought there was no need for him to question the boss's purpose in taking him to the League Managers Association reception.

Because he already had the answer in his heart.

No matter what my final choice is, I still want to thank you, Boss. This is the second time you've helped me.

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