Godfather Of Champions 680 Forty and Confused

However, the problem of the offensive core remained unresolved. Gerrard and Lampard were very capable attacking players and also took on the roles of playmakers in their respective clubs. But who would be at England's playmaker?

Although in the computer domain, dual-core CPUs were more powerful than a single-core, they could not be comprehended so easily on the football field. After all, people were not computers. One more core playmaker might lead to interference with each other, and eventually no one could play well. Like the current Brazil national team today, Dunga was having a headache over how Kaka and Ronaldinho could coexist on the pitch. 

If Gerrard was the playmaker, then Lampard's play would be limited; If Lampard was the playmaker, then Gerrard could not play to his best level.

England's 2-0 win over Andorra was not directly related to Gerrard's or Lampard's excellent play. Both goals were scored from set pieces. George Wood's appearance only strengthened England's defense and had not made much of a direct contribution to the offense. 

After this match, the England players would remain in the national team to prepare for the September 11th qualifiers. Capello still had time to adjust his lineup tactics.

　　※※※

The First Team had no competition. Twain had been immersed in the reserve team during this period, overseeing the training and competition of the players who had no national team responsibilities for the Premier Reserve League.

Aaron Mitchell was training hard and adapting to the new position as a center forward. He progressed very slowly in the beginning. After all, he played as a full back for seven years and some habits were not that easy to change. The difference between a full back and a striker was also very large. Changing positions was not simply as easy as changing the name. A lot of knowledge was involved. Mitchell could only slowly explore and experience on his own. 

Şahin's progress had also pleased Twain. With the help of the psychiatrists and coaches, he was trying not to shy away from the physical confrontations on the pitch. At first he was a little nervous and scared, but he did it in the end. Twain decided to let Şahin play in the EFL Cup for the Forest team next month. If Şahin could successfully return to his pre-injury level, the Turkish Football Federation should really send a pennant to Twain and Nottingham Forest.

At the end of the training session, Twain would sometimes invite Kerslake and Dunn to hang out and have a drink together at Burns' bar---Dunn certainly only drank non-alcoholic beverages. He would chat with Fat John, Skinny Bill and the gang, and then head home with Dunn.

Life was simple.

However, if he did not keep busy or not have drinks and be with friends, Twain would still feel a little lonely. The house was not considered small and there was no one else most of the time. Every night before he went to bed or head to the bathroom to take a leak, he would have to pass by Shania's room. Sometimes he would suddenly stop to look inside.

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"Hey, Tony. Would you like to go have a drink tonight?" After the training, Kerslake hailed Twain warmly. Dunn looked at him too.

Twain unexpectedly shook his head and declined this time. "I've got something on. I can't go. You guys go ahead."

Kerslake looked at Dunn and was about to open his mouth when Dunn spoke first, "Since that's the case, I will go straight home." He had no interest in bars. He only used to go because Twain wanted to go, and they could have a chat together. Since Twain did not want to go today, there was no need for him to go to places he did not like very much.

Kerslake sighed helplessly, "All right. Since you're not going, what am I going to do there by myself?"

Twain chuckled, "You'd better go home and spend time with your wife, David! A family man shouldn't go to the bar all the time."

Kerslake gave a shrug and left. Twain looked at Dunn, "You should head back too."

Dunn nodded and turned to walk away without asking Twain about his plans.

What was Twain's plans? Actually, he was still going to have a drink, but in another environment. He did not want to go to Burns' bar today, where there were too many acquaintances. Someone would always come talk to him with a drink. He would not be idle for a minute.

Why did he suddenly decide to drink in a different bar? Because he suddenly remembered that tomorrow was his birthday, Tony Twain's birthday. 

He had been in England for almost five years, and he had never celebrated a birthday. The first year was because he did not remember the birthday of the body's owner. His memory breaks for that year was rather serious and he could not remember many things. Now he remembered some and still could not recall the other stuff. However, those were very long-term memories and did not affect him much if he did not recall. In the latter three years, he knew Tony Twain's birthday was on September 9th, but he did not bother. On the one hand, it was someone else's birthday. On the other hand, he was always very busy. When he did remember the birthday, the timing often would have already passed. Over time, he was too lazy to think about such meaning things like birthdays. 

Not everyone took birthdays seriously. Twain remembered that he previously was not concerned with such matters. His parents would take care of it when he was still living at home. While he was alone in other cities for his studies and work, he never celebrated his birthday---he had few friends and it was too silly to buy a cake and blow candles on his own. He just have to remember the date and year of his own birth date. There was no need to do so many fancy things.

He guessed that Dunn and he were the kind of people who did not care about birthdays, because he did not see Dunn celebrate his birthday once since he came to Nottingham. By the way, Dunn's birthday was on August 8th, which was already over. It coincided with the Olympic Games opening. Twain had even joked at the time that his birthday party was even directed by the director Zhang Yimou. Dunn did not respond to this, which made Twain felt that he had told a corny joke again.

But this year, Twain, who did not care about his birthday, suddenly thought of his birthday.

Because he suddenly remembered that come tomorrow, this body of his would be forty years old...

　　※※※

Forty years old!

It was a scary age.

Twain was still thinking about the problem when he sat and drank alone in a bar in downtown Nottingham city, which he had never been to.

He had never cared about his age before. It could even be said that he had always felt that after he had transmigrated here, his age should start from the age of twenty-six years old. In that case, he was only thirty-one years old this year. There were still a lot of young people who had not married at this age in China.

The reality was cruel. He could feel his body slowly aging now, which was a natural pattern and could not be stopped. He also could not turn a blind eye to it. Although in the football world, the media and others still addressed him as "a young manager" and said he was "young and promising", football was a special world. Here, a 30-year-old player was termed as "a veteran."

Forty years old was really old.

As the Chinese saying went: At thirty, I stood firm. At forty, I had no doubts.

A thirty-year-old person should have settled down and established his career. He was now forty years old and still alone---from now on he must see himself as a person who had truly been lived for forty years.

He felt he should seriously think about "a family."

The messy bachelor's room needed to be cleaned up. He could not always get a quick meal at Burns' bar after work. Masturbation and call girls could not accompany a person for life ... Most importantly, he was not a celibate, a homosexual, frigid, never been hurt by a woman when he was young, psychopath, a hardcore member of the "anti-society and romance squad", felt animosity toward society, women and family. Then he had nowhere to settle this lonesome heart of his. In the still of the night, he would also feel unbearable.

Recently while they were having drinks, Kerslake would always looked at his watch when it was time. Then he would jabbered on and complained about how his wide would nag if he went home late. While he talked about how "he can't drink to his heart's content because there will be trouble with a woman at home", he would obediently bid farewell to Twain and rushed home to accompany his wife.

Twain asked Dunn before. Did Kerslake want to stay and have a few more drinks, or did he really want to go back to spend time with his wife?

Dunn thought about it and shook his head to say he did not know.

He reckoned that he was unable to understand the feeling without a family.

At the thought of a family, Twain felt even more troubled. He downed mouthfuls of golden-colored alcohol into his mouth.

Because he realized that his social circle was pathetically small. Apart from football, it was more football. He used to think there was nothing wrong with it. It was the life he wanted. Now when he wanted to find a woman in his social circle whom he could have an affinity and to spend his life with, he could not find her---99.9% percent of people in his life were men.

In fact, Dunn was like him, but Dunn was still young and had just turned twenty-seven years old. His future was long. He had plenty of time to plan his life and meet the person he liked. For the first time, Twain felt his time was tight. Ten years' time would fly by and he would be fifty years old then, half a century old... Previously he had no concept of this age. Now that he thought about it, he would feel the chill down his spine.

How could there be a woman who would like a forty-year-old middle-aged man with an eccentric character and unlikable temperament?

It was a lively bar here, not because there was a lot of people chatting loudly, but because of the loud music and young men and women having a crazy time together. It was not a traditional pub but a younger and more stylish version, similar to a club.

Twain came here randomly. He did not like this kind of noisy music, which did not sound as moving as the songs in the City Ground stadium's grandstand to his ears. But he could bring himself to a state whereby he could be completely deaf to the music and noise. He just sat alone in the corner, downing one drink after another. He was bothered by some things and when he was troubled, he would drink until he was drunk, and the trouble would naturally be gone.

In his state, he still managed to attract someone's attention in another corner.

"May I sit here?" A female voice rang out beside Twain's ear.

Twain looked at the other person. It was a woman with brown hair and fair skin, holding a wine glass and smiling as she sat in front of him. He could not make out her features clearly, because he was intoxicated and blurry-eyed.

He was no stranger to such an opening line, which he often encountered on some occasions. The other parties would be prettily and sexily dressed women. They would sit down with a smile as one invited them to a drink, and then one could do whatever he wanted...

Twain was not in the mood now. He did not come to this unfamiliar bar to take care of his physical needs. But when he saw the other party's brown hair, he hesitated and changed his mind.

"Aren't you already seated here, miss?"

The woman smiled.

"You're so beautiful, miss." It was a false compliment, and an instinctive reflex of sorts. Twain would say this when he met a woman who made the first move. Now he simply could not make out the other person's appearance as he had too much to drink and also because of the dim lighting. What caught his eye was a sea of dazzling white---the other person wore little clothes.

"Is anything the matter, beautiful lady?"

"I'm curious about you. Is that ok?" The woman laughed.

"It counts as a reason too." Twain nodded, then squinted his eyes as he stared at the other person and asked, "But do you know who I am?"

The woman looked around. Men and women were still partying to the explosive music.

"What does your identity have to do with the two of us on a night like this?"

The two people looked at each other and smiled. Ah, there was mutual understanding...

　　※※※

The sound of a car engine stalling came from the street outside the house. After a while, the sound of an open lock rang in the dark house and the front door was opened. The light from the streetlights outside shone in, and two long figures appeared at the door.

"This is my place. It's a little messy... hope you don't mind, ha." Twain slurred as he pointed inside the door to the woman he was hugging. "You know, this is true of a single middle-aged man..."

Twain threw off the leather shoes on his feet and began to feel around in the dark to turn on the lights.

When he had just turned on the lights, another familiar voice suddenly rang out behind him.

"You have such a colorful nightlife, Uncle Tony."

Twain turned his head around in amazement, and found his Shania standing on the stairs, coldly overlooking him, as well as the beautifully and fashionably dressed woman he met at the bar in his arms...

This was a strange scene. Twain thought he had drunk too much and was seeing and hearing things. He looked at Shania and turned to look at the woman from the bar next to him who was confused about what had suddenly happened.

He felt that his brain which had been anaesthetized by alcohol was a little slow.

"Oh…. what's ... going on...?" After a while, he blurted out this sentence.

"It looks like you're doing well by yourself. I'm relieved by this. Goodbye, Uncle Tony. Also, it's just after midnight, happy birthday." Shania took a backpack from the room and walked down. She waved her hand at the two people with a cool expression and went straight out of the door. Soon the sound of a car starting was heard, and then a white Mercedes Jeep drove past Twain's door.

"She, she is..." The woman pointed to Shania who walked away, somewhat surprised and puzzled.

The cold wind outside the door blew in, and there was a layer of sweat on Twain's forehead---He had sobered up.

Shania specially came back from overseas. It was just that...how did it happen like this?

This time, the woman looked at Twain with an even more surprised and puzzled expression. Twain realized that he was still hugging the other person till now. He hurriedly let go and said, "I'm sorry, so sorry... I don't know what happened. But I can't tonight..." As he spoke, he pulled out a few bills in his wallet and handed them to her.

The woman saw Twain's action and her face turned cold. She looked at Twain and spoke in a completely different tone from the one she used to chat at the bar, "I think you're mistaken. I'm not a prostitute, Mr. Tony Twain."

Having said that, the woman turned around and left Twain's house. Like Shania, she drove off.

At this time, Dunn, who heard the movements next door, came over. When he entered the house, he found that it was empty except for Twain standing alone at the door, in a daze as if he were a pillar.

"What happened? Where's Shania?"

Twain turned to look at him, "You knew? Did you see her?"

"As soon as I came back, I saw the lights up at your place. I came over to take a look out of curiosity. I did not expect Shania to come back. I had wanted to call you and ask you to come home. But she said she wanted to surprise you, and did not let me call... She specially came back for your birthday and said she wanted to give you a birthday present... By the way, where's she?" As he spoke, Dunn looked around to find Shania.

"Stop looking. She left." Twain sat on the couch with his hands covering his face as he rubbed vigorously. He tried to sober himself up.

"What happened?" Dunn also felt that the mood was wrong at this time.

"I don't know." Twain spread his hands and said, "Simply put, I went out for a drink and brought back a woman. Then I saw Shania. Following which, Shania left, and the woman left soon after when I tried to give her money."

Dunn looked oddly at Twain and asked, "How much did you have to drink, Tony?"

"I don't know. I didn't count."

Dunn sighed and sat down next to Twain, muttering, "This is why I hate drinking..."

The two men sat silently on the couch. The door was still opened and the wind outside was blowing in, making them feel a little cold.

Chapter end