[Football] Bad Boy Batty

"I'll make it clear in advance that I agreed to go with you because I was worried that you would be scolded by the fans and that you wouldn't be able to adjust your mentality. It's not like I found losing unacceptable and wanted to escape." Neymar said as seriously as possible. "Normally speaking, we should have gone with..."

"Being with the team, we encourage each other, comfort each other, and keep each other warm, right?" Batistuta interrupted Neymar and naturally took over the second half of the sentence. He leaned on the sofa, lazily looking at Neymar opposite him, and took a few green grapes from the fruit bowl and put them into his mouth.

The two are now at an altitude of 10,000 meters, riding on Edmundo's private plane. He is also there, as is Loach, and their destination is the world's most famous leisure and entertainment center - Las Vegas.

"I know what you mean, but dear, instead of worrying about me, you might as well worry about your hairline. It's already receding." Barty teased vaguely while biting a grape.

"Really?" Neymar subconsciously raised his hand to touch it.

He actually worried about his hairline for half a minute, but soon, Neymar realized that this was Batistuta's little trick to change the subject.

"Stop it, Batistuta." Neymar scolded him helplessly.

"I'm not making a fuss. I'm sincerely thanking you." Batty tried to confuse the other party with his innocent face. "Thank you for coming with me. Otherwise, I would be scolded for not having a sense of teamwork, and I would be the only one who didn't take responsibility after the loss."

How could you say such sad things in such a teasing tone?
Neymar pursed his lips: "I mean - this is your first World Cup."

"It's the first session, so what?" Batty asked.

"It's just... I feel regretful and sad." Neymar said carefully.

"Hmm..." Batty blinked and licked the grape juice from the corner of his mouth, "You didn't win the first time either. We lost 1-7 to Germany in the semi-final you missed, and you watched the game in a wheelchair. And, you almost became paralyzed."

"That's different." Neymar retorted, but his momentum was obviously not as strong as before.

"Nothing is different." Batty pouted. "By the way, are you sitting so far away because you want me to shoot grapes into your mouth like marbles?"

Neymar didn't say anything, but turned around and looked at Edmundo who was using his iPad not far away.

"That's my godfather." Batty raised his eyebrows.

The subtext is: Edmundo certainly knows about our relationship, he knows me better than anyone else, and even my preferences (for men) are partly influenced by him.

Neymar shrugged, stood up from the opposite side and sat down next to Batistuta. Batistuta curled the corners of his mouth with satisfaction, found a comfortable position on him and lay down, then stuffed two grapes into his mouth.

"Oh, thank you." Neymar finished eating the grapes and frowned again. He said, "I am serious, Batistuta, you don't have to pretend that nothing is wrong in front of me. I know you are very sad. I can help you."

"Don't." Batistuta paused with his hand holding the grapes, and then gave Neymar a puzzled fake smile. God knows he is the worst at dealing with such sensationalism.

"Sad? A little bit, but only a little bit. I had a bad day after the match," Batty said. "Oh my God, 16 rounds of penalties. Damn it. Is God serious?"

Neymar didn't say anything, just looked at Batistuta.

Tsk.

oops.

Batistuta made the Italians' favorite gesture of praise: "I'm serious, Ney, don't look at me like that, I'm not sad now, it's true... Don't make a long face, we are going to Vegas! I'm going to spend a lot of money and stuff the small fabrics of the dancers and gigolos with banknotes!"

Before Neymar could say anything, a loud sob was suddenly heard from the aisle next to him, and then Loach was seen covering his mouth and running quickly to the back, immersed in sadness.

Batty raised his eyebrows and stretched out his legs to hook Loach's clothes to stop him: "What's the matter? Why are you crying?"

Loach didn't really want to run away. He stood beside Batty's sofa with his hands folded, sniffling and choking, looking up at the sky and the ground but not at Batty.

"I'm asking you a question, why are you crying like this?" Batty got up from Neymar. He looked at Loach and then at Neymar, and suddenly realized that the two of them were concerned about the same thing. "Don't be like this, my friend. It's just a game. If we lose, we lose. What's the big deal?"

Loach glanced at him and said, "That's the World Cup."
Then Loach added: "Boss, this is your first World Cup."

"How was the World Cup? Are you not going to participate in it anymore? How was the first World Cup? Who had a happy first time?" Batistuta waved his hand and said, "We also lost the Champions League final before, but I didn't see you so sad."

Loach: “That’s different.”
Loach: "The Champions League is held every year, and the World Cup is held every four years."

After a pause, Niu Qiu continued, "Besides, you didn't score an own goal in the Champions League final. Now I see a lot of people scolding you online. I scolded back every one of them, but after I finished scolding, I realized that I couldn't scold them all. There were too many."

As he spoke, the black boy choked up again.

Batty stood up, but he didn't know what to do after he stood up. After hesitating for a long time, he had to give the tissue to Niuqiu. Niuqiu took the tissue and blew his nose, then threw away the tissue and continued to sob.

oops.

"Don't bother with them. I've told you so many times not to look at them." Batty firmly pressed Loach's head into his arms, just like he did when he helped him block out the sound of gunfire not far away when they were children. He patted Loach's back soothingly, "They are scolding me. I don't care. Why do you care so much?"

"I don't want to care, but they scolded you!" Loach raised his head and said sadly, "You are obviously the best boss in the world. Brazil should take the trophy! You should win!"

Batistuta slapped him lightly on the back of his head. "It's just another four years. I can wait. It's not like I won't be able to run by 4. It's useless to think about so many things. Why not think about the Champions League? Go back and count them! When we win four Champions Leagues, it will be time to restart the World Cup. Then we can win the World Cup in one fell swoop and shut up all those swearers!"

2022 Ah.

Neymar coughed twice and said: "I may not be able to play as a winger like you at that time."

"Huh?" Batty pushed Loach away and blinked in confusion, "Why?"

Neymar: "I was born in 1992."

The boy's confused expression remained unchanged: "What about '92? In '22 it will be - oh!"

Looking at Batistuta's suddenly shocked expression, Neymar suddenly regretted mentioning this for a moment.

"What? Is it shocking to hear that I'm going to be 4 in 30 years?" he asked in mock displeasure.

"No, I just... I always feel that 30 is still a long way away from me." Barty bit his fingertips and sighed, then he changed the subject: "But I heard that men's physical functions and sexual abilities will start to decline after the age of 25. You-wait, Ney, how old are you this year?"

Neymar: ?

I can still reluctantly agree when my physical functions are declining.

I'm sorry he can't agree with the idea that sexual ability is declining!

"You little bastard, you just enjoy pissing me off, don't you!" Neymar rolled up his sleeves dangerously, "You want to know whether men's sexual abilities decline after they turn 25, come here! I'll let you experience it for yourself!"

"what!"

Batistuta let out a brief scream, then immediately grabbed the grapes on the plate and started attacking. Neymar, not to be outdone, hit back with even harder grapes. The two of them made a mess of the luxurious sofa, and it seemed that neither of them had any intention of stopping.

The poor loach was just forgotten there, with tears on his face, expressing his sadness for the unfair treatment his boss had suffered.

loach:……
Or loach (shaking away tears indifferently): Oh, okay, I am redundant.

Just when the black teenager, who had turned his grief and anger into strength, was about to teach his 'ungrateful' boss a lesson, the most important person in the cabin took action. Edmundo came quietly and pulled away Loach.

"Give them some private space." The Hollywood director said with a smile, "You don't want your boss's sweet love to be disturbed, right?"

The loach instantly became like a deflated balloon.

Although Edmundo is Batistuta's godfather and eternal supporter, apart from that, he is still a living legend. Not everyone can be like that little bastard, ahem, wrong, like the boss of the loach, who is unscrupulous in front of Edmundo. No, it should be said that he is spoiled and arrogant.

Without the image of "Godfather Batty", Edmundo is actually seen by the public as a man with gorgeous appearance, strange and unpredictable personality, and ruthless tactics, sitting on the throne above many capitals.

Loach sighed and whispered to himself, "I just hope that Batty can be happy forever, that's all."

"Oh dear, we are all the same." Edmundo answered his soliloquy with a lazy smile, "Believe me, he will."

……

The childish fruit war between Batistuta and Neymar ended with a video call from Guardiola. The Catalan tactfully expressed his regret for Brazil's failure to win the championship, and then told Batistuta that he had an extra three days of vacation than others. Of course, if he felt that three days were not enough, he could rest until he felt there was no problem.

Putting down the phone, Batty thought about it and realized a problem.

Batty: "Ney?"

Neymar lay on Batistuta's lap and turned to look at him: "What's wrong?"

Batistuta looked him in the eye: "I want to ask you, who will be your club next season, have you decided?" Speaking of this, Neymar became a little depressed. He loosened his hand that was supporting his chin and completely lay on Batistuta's knees, tilted his head and pouted, saying: "It's useless for me to decide, Paris won't let me go."

"I guessed it." Batty reached out and messed with his hair. "But I didn't ask about Paris. I asked if you had decided which one you wanted to go to?"

"I wonder what's the use?" Neymar is still frustrated. "My father told me that there are too many things involved in the contract, in addition to the transfer fee, loyalty bonus, endorsements, etc., Paris will lose more than 5.5 million euros on me."

5.5 million is an astronomical figure.

Neymar thought that when he made the decision to go to Paris, he didn't expect it to turn out like this. Obviously, his original goal was just to have a club that he liked, where he could stay comfortably and give him a higher status, but Ligue 1 really exceeded his psychological expectations. To use an inappropriate word to describe it -

The defenders in Ligue 1 are like uncivilized barbarians. This is not directed at any particular person or club, but the entire ecological environment of Ligue 1. If those defenders want to fit in, they must learn to be dirty (of course there are also players who are not dirty). Their interceptions are seldom directed at the ball, and they treat (abuse) (beat) every opponent equally. Even if he is not Neymar, he will explode mentally when kicked.

"Why do you keep thinking about money?" Batty retorted unhappily, "I want to know what you really want, money? What is that?"

Money is nothing, it's life-threatening.

Neymar didn't know how to respond to Batistuta's remarks, which were so arrogant that they seemed a little cute: "Come on, a professional player can't 'want' something, a professional player has to 'be able to have' something."

Batty looked at him strangely for a few seconds.

"You didn't take to heart a single word I said in the stairwell of the hotel that day, did you?" the young man was a little angry.

"No, of course I remember every word you said," Neymar replied.

"Then you should know that I have a way to solve all your money problems." Batty interrupted the second half of his sentence, "And I don't mean that I will solve it, but-"

A light cough sounded, and Neymar subconsciously looked up behind Batistuta, just in time to meet the director's teasing blue eyes. Batistuta did not look back, he acted very naturally, as if this had happened hundreds or thousands of times.

"——My godfather can help solve it, right, Dudu~" Batti raised his head and smiled back at Edmundo.

This was the first time Neymar saw real interaction between Batistuta and his godfather. He was so shocked that he was speechless. He had never seen Batistuta in such a completely spoiled state like he was now, with such undisguised dependence on the elder who doted on him.

But he did not respectfully call Edmundo "Godfather", but called him by his nickname. Even though Brazilians like to be called by their nicknames, this is... too intimate.

"Of course, I can still handle a small transfer." Edmundo smiled and rubbed his godson's hair. He seemed to like the feel of the little curls. Suddenly, he gave Neymar a look.

Neymar's heart trembled, and he felt something was wrong.

Batistuta is very similar to his godfather in character, and Batistuta is very vindictive, so does that mean that -

"But baby, I'm a little confused." Edmundo said in a tone of sincere inquiry, while continuing to gently ruffle Batistuta's hair. "I clearly asked him this question last season, and his answer to me was very firm. He firmly chose Paris Saint-Germain."

"Ok?"

Batistuta's eyes turned to Neymar.

Neymar's throat tightened.

"I can explain this," he answered carefully. "I had already discussed it with Paris Saint-Germain at the time. Your godfather asked me later. I can't--"

Edmundo: "I asked you if you wanted to go to Manchester City and you said no. Opportunities only come to those who make decisions immediately. Dear, it's too late for you to play with Batistuta now. Wait until next season."

what!
Next season?

Batistuta looked at Neymar with a frown on his face. He said angrily, "So you rejected Dudu's generous offer. You knew he could help you long before I told you!"

"Yes, oh no no no, no!" Neymar explained hurriedly, "I considered all the circumstances at the time. Manchester City is not suitable for me. And when he asked me, you had just lost the Champions League final. All I could think about was how to comfort you, so-"

"Champions League final!" Batistuta's eyes widened. "Oh my God! I asked you so long ago, and you refused, and you still didn't tell me!"

"No, no, Barty, listen to me! I didn't mean to hide anything from you!"

"You did it on purpose. Don't lie! I can smell the lies coming from you! Liar!"

Seeing that the two were about to have an awkward quarrel (flirting) again, the director who got angry at the beginning crossed his arms and sighed quietly: Oh, how sweet! Young people are just passionate.

After waiting for a while, when they were about to jump from PG-13 to NC-17 if they were not stopped, Edmundo stepped forward to stop them. He pulled his godson up and helped him straighten his collar.

"It's not impossible to do it. Although there is not much time left until the new season, it's just a transfer, very simple." Edmundo said, as if a transfer worth hundreds of millions was as easy as going to the supermarket and spending a few dollars to buy organic cabbage.

Neymar opened his mouth but didn't know what to say.

The director's eyes were filled with extreme seriousness. He looked at Neymar and said, "I can help you with the transfer, but I want you to agree to one condition."

Batty: "What conditions?"

"Don't worry, baby Batistuta, it's just a simple condition that concerns you." Edmundo tilted his head, motioning Neymar to follow him to the rear of the cabin alone.

The great director's eyes were full of smiles when he looked at his godson, but as soon as he turned to look at Neymar, his eyes turned serious again.

As expected, he is a top Hollywood boss. Neymar was a little nervous. He thought, no one can switch emotions more naturally than this guy.

Batty was a little confused.

He just watched his godfather take Neymar away, and the conditions were related to himself. At that moment, Batistuta felt like the three dogs in his house turned into crying monsters at the same time and scratched the deeper part of his chest.

Batty went to find Loach and said, "Go and eavesdrop, and come back and tell me what it is."

Loach glanced at him and pretended not to hear.

Batty raised his eyebrows: "Why, you don't want to listen to the boss again."

Loach glanced at him again and continued to pretend not to hear.

Just when Batistuta was about to drag Loach along to eavesdrop, his godfather and Neymar came back. The expression on Edmundo's face did not change, he was still smiling, while Neymar's expression was nervous but also relieved.

This made Batty even more curious.

"What exactly is the request related to me?" He looked at Neymar. It was obviously not a wise choice to start from his godfather.

Neymar is very conflicted.

"Don't torture him, Batty, he's not bad." Edmundo praised, "I should at least know that he is a guy who is qualified for me to use French connections and resources to help. God knows how long it has been since I contacted the Bonaparte family."

Batistuta was surprised for a moment. His godfather rarely praised people related to him like this, and Neymar was the first one to be praised so bluntly as "not bad".

He looked at Neymar, then turned his gaze back to the Godfather: "I don't understand, all..."

"My dear, you don't need to understand. It's enough for you to be your Batty baby happily." The director interrupted Batty's question with a smile, and then made a white hook with his hand to signal the boy to lower his head.

Batty did as he was told, and Edmundo rubbed his brown curly hair again with an expression of enjoyment.

Ok.

If the Godfather doesn't want to tell him, then don't tell him.

Batty gave in. It was okay not to know. He didn't need to know everything.

"There's one more thing I want to ask your opinion on, Batty," Edmundo said suddenly.

"What's the matter?" Batistuta asked. He glanced at Neymar who was staring at him in a trance and said awkwardly, "You don't need to ask my opinion on many things. For example, if he doesn't want to come to Manchester City with me, I don't..."

"No, he will be with you," Edmundo said with a smile, "but I want to talk about this year's Ballon d'Or."

Batty was stunned.

"Ballon Globe?" he repeated.

"Yes, it's the one held by France Football." Edmundo smiled warmly at his godson's surprised expression and said, "Do you want that trophy?"

(End of this chapter)