[Football] Bad Boy Batty

The Golden Globe, of course he wants it.

No, it should be said that no matter whether it is the Ballon d'Or, the best player, or some other award such as Footballer of the Year, as long as it can make him the focus of everyone's attention, the object of their cheers, and drive the crazy secretion of adrenaline and dopamine in his body, he wants it.

Who doesn’t want that?

What's the point of living this life if you can't make yourself satisfied and happy?

‘Ding~dang~’

Tiger|The dynamic music sounded, and Batty finally woke up from his daze.

After shaking off the Godfather's highly suggestive question that day, he looked at the three completely different patterns in front of him, muttered to himself "What bad luck", and then reached out to grab the chips from the basket again.

Unfortunately, Batty missed.

Looking down, the small basket that was originally full is now empty.

It has been two days since the World Cup final, and Batistuta has spent two full days in Las Vegas. During that time, he took Neymar and Loach to all the famous nightclubs in the surrounding area, and also experienced all the adult shows. When he came down from the room in a daze this morning, everyone greeted him with a smile.

But even though he was having fun, he had really bad luck these past two days.

He has never won even the simplest slot machine, let alone other games, such as poker (blackjack, Texas Hold'em).

"Oh, dear, it seems that your nightmare has continued from the court to now." Neymar walked briskly to Batistuta. He shook the basket in his hand, and there were a lot more in it than at the beginning.

Batty rolled his eyes. “It’s like you’re not on the same team as me.”

"But my luck is still there." Neymar put the basket under Batistuta's nose and shook the chips in a show-off manner. "It's not just the slot machine. I even hit the number 1 to 35 when guessing the small ball just now!"

Batty still expressed disdain.

"Ever since my godfather promised to help you with the transfer, you've started to act recklessly, dear." He poked Neymar's nose, "I advise you not to be too arrogant in front of me. I've seen a lot of casinos, and luck is the least valuable thing."

What you said is absolutely true, Neymar is indeed happy these two days.

What does it matter if we lose the World Cup?
Yes, every time I think of that day, I still feel a little disappointed, upset that Brazil lost to luck, but -

Hey! He's going to play with Batistuta next season!

Sadness is only temporary, happiness is forever.

Although the English league is also known for its fierce style of play, Neymar believes that since he has seen the players in Ligue 1, fouls in the Premier League are not worth mentioning to him.

Batistuta's godfather really helped a lot. Even his father, who called that day to ask him why he didn't go with the team, instantly changed from being furious to being excited and grateful when he heard that Edmundo was willing to make the move.

"You can play until July 7th. I want to see you in your room in Paris on the 20st. We are busy with the transfer." This is what Neymar Sr. said to his son.

So, this is why Neymar decided to put everything aside and have fun with Batistuta for five days.

Back to the present.

"I know luck is the least valuable thing here, but Batistuta, do you think I won these chips purely by luck?" Neymar picked up a chip with two fingers. "At least in poker, I have some talent. You know, I won the fourth place in the World Poker Championship."

Batty certainly didn't believe it. He sneered, "The kind that only four people participate in?"

"Remember what you said, I'll let you see it later." Neymar pulled Batistuta to the poker area, where there were fewer people than at the slot machines.

"Ha! You actually want to play poker." Batty crossed his arms and watched Neymar pull out a chair and sit down, still skeptical, "Have you watched too many Hong Kong movies?" (This is the way to play in the "God of Gamblers" series of movies)

"You don't believe me at all." Neymar skillfully asked the dealer to deal the cards. "I have seen those movies, but I didn't learn my skills from movies."

He really didn't lie about this.

A few years ago, during his seasons at Barcelona, ​​Neymar learned how to remember cards, and he considers himself an expert at at least some specific ways of playing.

"Why don't we make a bet?" Neymar said, "If I win this time, you have to be my boy tonight, holding a tray to pour me wine and satisfy all my needs."

After saying that, he took out two chips with larger denominations, put one on the table, and threw the other into Batty's hand, just like tipping a waiter, then he looked up and looked at Batty.

"How about a bet?"

Batistuta neither agreed nor refused. He took the chip in his hand and spun it like a coin. After flicking it into the air with his thumb, he bent down and grasped the chip just a few centimeters away from Neymar's nose.

"I made a bet with you."

……

In a studio not far from the casino, Edmundo was making a video call. To be precise, this should be considered a small meeting. The participants included Sheikh Mansour, the biggest financial backer behind Manchester City, as well as the chairman of the Manchester City club, the head of the finance department, and the press officer.

"Gentlemen, I think it's time to step up our efforts from now on," Edmundo said, supporting his chin. "As far as I know, the Madrid man (Florentino) is working on building momentum for his players."

"Yes, thanks to Batistuta, Manchester City not only won the Premier League trophy in a row, but also won the Champions League," Sheikh Mansour said. Considering that the World Cup had just ended and Edmundo was Brazilian, he added: "It's a pity that you couldn't take away the World Cup. Brazil is fully capable of that."

Edmundo didn't care much. He waved his hand and simply thanked Sheikh Mansour for his kind consolation. After a pause, he continued, "Well, let's get back to the topic just now, the Ballon d'Or and the World Footballer of the Year."

"Don't worry about it at all. We started working on the media at Christmas of 2017," the chairman said. "Bati's strength is obvious to all. No amount of publicity can erase his achievements."

"But he is only 19 years old, and Florentino will definitely seize on this point." The press officer interrupted and flipped through the records. "There have been constant voices of doubt since March. It's not widespread, but it exists. If we don't make good use of the media, it will become an obstacle for Batistuta to win the award."

"I agree." After so many years in Hollywood, Edmundo has figured out the media's routine. "Come up with a few more plans. After the World Cup, I will take Batistuta out to relax. It's only been a few days, and there are more and more comments against him online. I have to find something to divert attention."

"About this..." The press officer seemed to have thought about it long ago. He cleared his throat and said, "I have already thought of something to divert the attention of the people. It is very clever. Not only can it make those people who sit on the fence stop scolding our little Batty, but also make them love him. However, to achieve this, I still need some of your power in France."

"If you can help my dear godson change his reputation, of course no problem, please feel free to do so." Edmundo said, "When can it be done? I noticed that the UEFA Best Player selection is at the end of August."

The press officer tapped the documents on the table confidently and said, "If you can call the Rothschild family right now, it can be done immediately."

The big director raised his eyebrows and readily agreed.

……

[The banker has 8 points, the player has 9 points, the player wins. ]

Neymar held the two stacks of doubled chips in both hands and brought them in front of him, then turned to Batistuta and winked: "See, you are mine now, go get me a glass of Rancho (Brazilian national drink)."

Batty was a little surprised by this.

but--

"Well, I'll take the bet." He took off his hat in an exaggerated gesture. "Please wait a moment, sir. I'll go get you a small farm worker."

Before leaving, Batistuta took out the chips that Neymar had given him from his pocket, took two or three more from the chips that Neymar had just won, and threw them all to the lady in a white tight dress next to him.

There are people like her in any casino. They first choose wealthy prey, then approach them, and finally wait for the other party to win money and take them away to have a good night, and then offer a high price the next day.

To put it bluntly, it is a hooker who roams around in the casino.

Batistuta didn't judge their lives, but half a minute ago he saw her lift her legs and try to flirt with Neymar, and two minutes before that, she had just been rejected by him.

"Thanks for the good luck, ma'am, but I don't think he'll be available to deal with you tonight." Barty gave a fake smile. "Here, they'll keep you from working for the week at least."

After saying this, he dusted off his sleeves and walked towards the bar.

Neymar was stunned.

He looked at the woman in confusion: "What did you do to provoke him? Does it have anything to do with me?"

Oh, silly boy.

The woman smiled ambiguously, then stood up, kissed the chips in her hand and blew Neymar a kiss: "You have to figure this out yourself, dear."

……

Batistuta got Neymar's small farmhand and his own cherry whiskey from the bar. Before returning to the gambling table, he looked at Neymar's glass of cocktail, snorted twice, and asked the bartender to put twice as much lemon in it.

'I hope your teeth are healthy enough, dear Ney.'

After tipping the bartender, Batty picked up the plate and left, but as soon as he turned around, someone passing by knocked over his tray and spilled the wine all over him.

"Hey! Watch out!" He complained, shaking his hands in dissatisfaction.

"I'm so sorry, I was in such a hurry that I didn't see you. I can pay you, including the two glasses of wine and your clothes. I-wait!" The guy who bumped into someone was apologizing self-blamingly, but suddenly he froze, "Bati? Is it really you, Batti? Oh my God, I can't believe it!"

Ok?
Batty frowned and looked over. It was a strange face, probably not in his social circle. Judging from the accent, it seemed that he was British, possibly a football fan.

"Should I know you?" he asked.

This was Batistuta's gentlest performance after a stranger knocked over his wine glass and spilled it all over him. Of course, it was not because the other party was suspected to be a fan, but because that face was so superior.

It was a boy about his age, about 6.1 feet , with blue eyes, dark hair, and a very noble and retro face.

After seeing too many handsome guys on the court, when you see this kind of guy, you will find it pleasing to the eye in a different way.

When you're in Las Vegas, you always run into some Hollywood actor, it's not uncommon, but this guy, with this face, at least he can live a life without worrying about food and clothing.

Remembering his godfather once said that a guy with really good looks could even find a job on the first day he arrived in Hollywood, Batty thought the boy in front of him was that kind of person.

"Oh sorry, I'm sorry to scare you, I'm not a Manchester City fan, but I like watching you play, it's a pity, Brazil is very strong this year but we lacked luck - sorry, I shouldn't say so much, I'm just too excited to see you," he said.

"It's okay." Batty was always patient with beauties, "You're not the one who talks the most."

The boy scratched his hair a little embarrassedly, then stretched out his hand to Batty in panic: "I'm Hero Fiennes, an actor, nice to meet you... Can I take a photo with you?"

"There's alcohol residue on my hands." Batty raised his right hand and waved, "If you don't mind, of course you can."

'Oh, no.'

Thinking that he had knocked over his tray just now, He Luo felt even more embarrassed. He bit his lip and said, "I'm really sorry. I'm going to buy you some new clothes. If you want, you can stay at my place for a while and wait for me... Oh, sorry. Is this too offensive?"

To be honest, Holloway never thought that she would meet Batistuta while visiting friends in Las Vegas, and she never thought that she would be so clumsy as to ruin the other person's clothes.

A few days ago, he was still cheering for him in front of the TV wearing the No. 11 Brazilian jersey, and today he saw him in person. What kind of idol drama development is this? If his friends knew about this, they would definitely say that he was lucky.

"Don't worry, it will dry naturally in a few minutes." Batty shrugged.

"But I have to at least do something to make up for my mistake," Helo insisted.

"——Then buy a new one and send it to me. You know where Manchester City is, right?" Batistuta thought for a moment and said, "We want to take a photo together, come on."

Holo hesitated, then quickly pulled out his phone and leaned over to take a selfie with Barty.

I don't know if he was nervous or something, but he took more than a dozen photos in a row, not caring about the results, and pressed the camera button frantically as if he was buying a limited edition product.

It was a completely straight man's operation, Batty thought with a bit of pity.

"You just said you were an actor. Have you ever acted in any films or taken part in any commercials?" he asked.

It's rare to meet someone who looks so good, Batty doesn't mind doing a small favor and recommending the other person to his godfather. Maybe he can get a small role or something. It's a pity that such a face doesn't appear in a movie on the big screen.

"I haven't acted in any big productions." Holloway said shyly, "The most famous one is Harry Potter. Have you seen the sixth part? I played the 6-year-old Tom Riddle in it."

Batty was stunned for a moment, and looked Holo up and down again.

It turns out that he is the little Voldemort.

"That's great. I didn't recognize you at all just now." Batty smiled. "So you are developing in the United States now, right?"

"About the same. I usually travel back and forth between the UK and the US, and spend more time in the UK," He Luo explained.

After a pause, he added: "I have a collaboration with a British magazine. Their headquarters is in Manchester. I happened to go to watch your game."

"Really?" Batty's smile widened. He took out his phone and opened Instagram. "What's your account? Let's follow each other. When I win the game and have a party, I can invite you to join me."

Holo felt something explode in his brain.

Follow each other and party.

Batti--

Jesus, he might even make friends with Edmundo!

Is there anything more wonderful than this?
……

After saying goodbye to Hero, Barty tugged at the half-dry clothes on his chest, then he remembered the two glasses of wine he spilled. Just as he was about to return to the bar -

"I almost thought you were in some trouble again, but you were chatting up someone. Barty, when are you going to stop making me sad?"

Batistuta turned around and saw Neymar.

"Hey, are you surprised to see me?" He leaned back in the bar chair with his hands in his pockets, and he didn't know how long he had been there.

Batistuta gave Neymar a half-hearted smile: "You have to understand that if I had deliberately approached someone, you wouldn't be seeing me now."

"Don't give me the cold shoulder. I saw you exchanging contact information with someone." Neymar glared at him and said, "You'd better delete it before I get angry."

Batty opened his eyes wide: "He spilled my wine. Can't you see the stain on me?"

Apparently this reason was not enough for Neymar to let him go: "You talked for a long time, and 'getting acquainted because of pretending to spill wine' sounds very romantic."

childish.

Batistuta rolled his eyes and showed Neymar the Instagram page he had just followed: "That guy played in Harry Potter and is also my fan. Why can't I chat with him for a while?"

Neymar was skeptical. He snatched the phone from Batistuta and carefully looked through Hero's IG interface. It was nearly two minutes before he finally let down his guard.

“I believed you,” he said, “but you still left me alone for almost 20 minutes.”

My God, this will never end.

Just when Batty was about to lose control and roll his eyes to the sky, Loach appeared and saved everything.

"Bati! You won't believe this!" He squeezed through the crowd, waving his phone. "I have good news and better news. Which one do you want to hear first?"

The good news and even better?
Batistuta looked at Neymar, who shrugged and said it was okay.

"Then let's listen to the good news first," said Batty.

"The good news is that you won the Silver Pants!" Loach made an exaggerated celebratory gesture, "It's already been decided. The club told me, and they are preparing an award speech for you!"

The Silver Pants, also known as the UEFA Player of the Season award, is named because the trophy is made of silver and looks like a pair of pants.

"That's great, congratulations!" Neymar nudged Batistuta with his elbow. "I haven't even won this. You are the fourth Brazilian to get it."

"What's even better?" Batty was curious about the other news.

"The better news is that no one is scolding you online now!" Loach jumped up excitedly. He took his phone to Batty and showed him the Twitter interface. "Look, there really is not a single one left. Thanks to Augustus, everyone is expressing their sympathy for you now!"

ha?
A bunch of question marks appeared above Batistuta's head. He looked at Neymar, but it was obvious that Neymar was as confused as he was.

"What does it mean?" he asked, "Why is no one scolding me now? What does it have to do with Augustus?"

"Just now, a lip-reading expert exposed the conversation between Augustus and you after the finals. Now everyone knows that he is a lunatic and has started to attack him." Loach said as he opened a news page on the browser. "Here - this is it."

[Are the rumors true? The Rothschild family's youngest son's perverted remarks were exposed, and the new king of Brazil was persecuted for more than a year]

Scrolling down, Batty saw the exposed content.

The lip-reading expert's interpretation was basically accurate.

Scrolling down further is the comment section. Batty flipped through a few pages at random and found that the majority of comments were about cursing Augustus for being disgusting. Except for a few people who said, "Augustus is disgusting, but Batty is not wrong at all," the rest were basically pitying him.

This is really——

Cool.

Batistuta couldn't help but smile. He first gave Neymar a big hug, and then gave Neymar a loud kiss on the lips in front of the entire casino.

"This is the best news I've heard today!" he said. "I feel like my luck is back. Who wants to play with me? Believe me, there will be a Jackpot soon!"

(End of this chapter)