[Football] Bad Boy Batty

"You're getting boring, Chris. I thought you'd learn a little bit about the romance of Italy when you went there," Batistuta said. "But then again, you invited me to Real Madrid and now you're not there yourself."

"Oh, I take that back." Ronaldo waved his hand, "Florentino is an old fox who never compromises. You were right not to go."

"So you chose Juventus." Batistuta's eyes flashed with mischief. "Juventus is indeed good. Turin is much closer to Sao Paulo than Madrid. And I remember someone said Milan is his second home. It should be very quick to get there from Turin, which is convenient for a date."

C Ronaldo: …
C Ronaldo: (fist hardened)
In the face of Kaka's shocked, confused, hurt and unacceptable look, Batistuta stopped teasing Ronaldo. He walked into the room, closed the door, then pulled a chair and sat down backwards, tapping on his phone.

Looking in the direction of Kaka, Batistuta happened to see him lowering his head and curling the corners of his mouth, with a look of helplessness and a little indulgence.

Tsk——
How to put it, Batistuta smacked his lips and thought, he is worthy of being the first love of football, the former Brazilian golden boy Kaka has a really charming smile.

"Oh my god, he sat down." Ronaldo complained to Kaka in annoyance. He waved his hand and raised his voice: "Hey! There is a serious conversation here. Batistuta, can you please go out first?"

"Sorry, but no." Batty's eyes never left the phone. He took out his headphones and said, rocking his chair back and forth, "You guys continue your 'serious' conversation, just pretend I don't exist. Don't worry, my headphones have good sound insulation, no matter how loud you are, I won't hear you."

This statement sounds reasonable at first, but if you think about it carefully, it seems to have a lot of connotations.

C Ronaldo: …

"I have to teach you a lesson today, little bastard." The Portuguese rolled up his sleeves and walked towards Batistuta, but was stopped by Kaka before he took two steps.

"Don't do that, Chris." Kaka shook his head, "You'll only make yourself look bad."

Ronaldo had a puzzled pause.

"What do you mean by asking for trouble—"

"You can't beat Batistuta," Kaka said. "You can't even beat me."

C Ronaldo: …

"You Brazilians are born to be my nemesis!" Ronaldo made a crazy gesture towards the ceiling, "Ricardo, you are like this, Marcelo is like this, and now this little bastard dares to tease me!"

Kaka lowered his head and chuckled.

"Please accept the reality dear Chris, it's really fun to tease you," said Batty.

Batty exited the chat page. Qiaolin couldn't provide any effective help at all. When he asked her about Kevin's tricks, she would just throw a bunch of so-called cool fan fiction memes in his face.

Ronaldo looked sullen and a little angry.

"Stop teasing me and Ricardo, it's annoying." He said seriously to Batistuta.

But before Batistuta could react, Kaka took action. He slapped his former teammate on the back of the head and said, "Why are you arguing with him? He's still a child. And boys his age are all willful bastards. You know that, don't you?"

The Portuguese smiled bitterly and closed his mouth.

Batistuta felt a little uncomfortable. Ronaldo's annoyance did not make him retreat, but Kaka's words made him realize that his behavior just now was too childish and annoying.

"Okay - sorry, my bad." He jumped off the chair, patted his clothes and walked to the door. "I really won't bother you anymore now. Please continue. See you later."

As the door slammed shut, the room returned to silence.

Ronaldo gave Kaka an incredible look: "How did you do it, Ricardo! That little bastard never admits his mistakes!"

Kaka adjusted his collar and smiled very gently.

"Maybe I'm just good at dealing with annoying little assholes after all."

……

After leaving the room, Batistuta regretted his decision almost immediately. Before he could take a few steps, he was surrounded by all kinds of people and forced to chat. The players and head coaches of other teams were quite friendly. They would tell Batistuta that they had voted for him with the first vote.

Batistuta would politely thank these people, but he would not be very nice to some reporters who had taken advantage of the situation.

For example, the blonde female reporter in front of him who asked him in an ambiguous tone whether he wanted to go to her room to have some fun at night.

"Go away, you're not my type." Batty said with disgust.

"Oh, baby, you should think about this." The female reporter winked at him, "Your father already had you when he was your age. Don't you want a child of your own?"

"FUCK OFF!!" Batty angrily shook off her arm, "I don't want a damn child! Stay away from me!"

The female reporter refused to give in.

Regardless of whether Buddy accepted her invitation and went to bed with her or not, as long as it could stir up his emotions and make him react a little more violently, the news would be there.

Batistuta didn't want to get entangled with her, but there was really no good way out in the current situation. Just when he was about to call for bodyguards to carry the person away, Batistuta saw De Bruyne approaching outside the crowd.

Oh, his hand paused for a few seconds.

Someone finally showed up.

The Belgian midfielder came to help. He pushed through the crowd and tried to take Batistuta away by force, but the crowd suddenly became agitated. It seemed that a problem with a curtain attracted their attention. This delayed De Bruyne for more than ten seconds. He waited for the crowd to settle down again before starting again. But when he looked closely -

Batty, who was surrounded, disappeared.

No, to be precise, he was taken away by someone.

Going around the corners and breaking free from the grip on his wrists, Batty said, "What are you doing?" He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows to look at the man in front of him, "Thank you for helping me out of this misery, but I didn't know you had the time to pay attention to me, Mr. Lionel Messi."

Yes, the person who just took Batistuta away during the chaos was none other than Messi.

"I promised Kun to take care of you." The Argentine smiled friendly. "It's been a long time since we last met, Batistuta. How have you been lately?"

"...If you hadn't messed up just now, I would have been very good." Batty gave him a fake smile, then crossed his arms and asked: "I remember your position just now, where you could see Kevin coming over, but you still chose to help him first, why? Want to steal the limelight? Or-"

Batty said this and suddenly he slammed on the brakes because he thought of a possibility with a very high probability.

"Neymar called you, didn't he?" he asked in a positive tone, "Did he ask you to keep an eye on me and stay away from that nasty Belgian, is that right?"

This way he could ensure that Kevin would be cut off from himself without being present. It was a method that sounded a bit stupid but was actually quite bad. Batistuta thought, it was all the fault of those cheesy and melodramatic dramas that invaded Neymar's not-so-bright brain.

Messi smiled shyly: "He cares about you." The little flea changed the subject inconspicuously, "Me, Luis, and others received a call from him. He hopes that we can take care of you in the vote."

"Huh?" Batty was stunned. "Did he do that?"

Messi nodded: "I wanted to vote for you second, but he said to me that if I didn't think you were the best player last season, I would be wrong."

Messi added: "He also asked me for the phone numbers of several magazine editors. After all, the media is also very important in the selection of this award. I heard that he also went to find the reporter who was scolded by you in the past to speak well of you."

Neymar actually went to campaign for him.

Batistuta's mood was a little complicated. Normally, in response to Messi's words, he should have raised his chin and proudly said that Neymar was right, and said something like "Anyone who doesn't plan to vote for me first is a fool."

But - she called him everywhere in the circle of friends to canvass for votes without telling him, and even refused to attend the award ceremony on the grounds that she was playing games out of spite. She packaged herself as very cool, but what was the reality?

Barty made an angry nasal sound.

How stupid!

Looking at the boy in front of him who was obviously immersed in his own world and whose facial expressions kept changing, Messi couldn't help laughing. He remembered what Aguero had told him before, that pranks happened from time to time in Manchester City's locker room, which were usually harmless, but if everyone went a little too far towards someone, Batistuta would use his own way to make them stop.

For example, he would loudly complain about being bored and direct the blame at the guy who came up with the prank, or he could tell some Hollywood gossip he heard from his godfather, such as who is secretly dating whom, and who is fighting with whom again.

"Sometimes he's a little bastard, sometimes he's a little angel," Aguero concluded. "What remains unchanged is that we all love him."

Messi agreed with his friend's evaluation.
Many people say that Batty is a bad boy who quarrels, fights, dives and uses all kinds of tricks on the court, but from this perspective, he is not that bad.

……

Soon it was time for the awards ceremony. Batistuta seemed a little depressed, and he didn't even notice De Bruyne sitting behind him or Ronaldinho sitting not far away. Loach pulled Batistuta to sit in the front row, and from time to time quietly reminded him to smile because cameras were passing by.

I don't know whether it was Edmundo's suggestion or FIFA's idea, but they invited the best lighting team in London to make the first few minutes look like a mixture of a night party and the Oscars.

The black rapper on the stage began his performance, mixing the names of all the players who came to attend the award ceremony into one song. Batistuta's eyes were wandering, and he only showed a slight emotional fluctuation when the singer put his name next to Mbappe's name.

very nice.

He once thought that he would be excited and thrilled when he became one of the candidates for the World Footballer of the Year, but no, he just wanted to finish the award ceremony quickly and go back to Manchester.

The rap continued, and the chain hanging around the singer's neck became particularly sparkling under the light. Buddy kept staring at it, and the light kept flashing, and gradually turned into someone's shining earrings in his mind.

It doesn't get any more damn weird than this.

Batistuta kept his upper body upright, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his raised thighs. A clip of highlights from last season played on the screen, mostly from the World Cup. After these boring segments were over, the first award was the Puskas Award, then the Best Goalkeeper Award, and the Player of the Year Award was the last one.

In other words, he had to sit here for more than an hour, without being able to look at his phone or chat. It was just him and his exploding brain.

Meanwhile in Manchester.
Neymar sent his father and friends away, and while slowly playing the game, he turned on the live broadcast of the FIFA awards ceremony on another screen. At the moment when the advertisement ended and the video began, the camera happened to be given to Batistuta.

Cheer up, Batty, he thought to himself, you are going to win a prize!

……

Just when Batty was reviewing almost his entire life, the award ceremony finally came to an end. The introduction videos of the candidates were played on the big screen one by one. At the reminder of Loach, Batty applauded with everyone else.

FIFA President Infantino walked up to the podium with the Footballer of the Year trophy. In his hand was an envelope with the name of the winner inside.

[Finally, it’s the most exciting moment. The best player of 2018 is about to be announced! ] The host slowed down his speech and used a mysterious tone to drive everyone’s emotions. [This year’s World Footballer of the Year winner is——]

Infantino slowly opened the envelope.

Batistuta, who had been daydreaming throughout the game, finally focused his attention. His eyes drifted towards the envelope, his hand holding the best team trophy gradually tightened, and his heartbeat gradually quickened.

will be……

"—— Batista Moreira." Infantino read out the name.

[Congratulations to Batistuta! It's incredible! The first player in history to win the highest honor in football at the age of 19 years and 267 days! ] The host said passionately, and the camera was turned to the original record holder, Ronaldinho, who looked very newsy. [You have created new history! Batistuta! Congratulations! ]

"It's you! Batty! You did it!" Loach jumped up, his lips trembling with excitement. Before Batty could fully stand up, he gave him a tight hug, "I knew you could do it! I always believed in it!"

"Thank you." Batty hugged Loach back.

Lovers come and go, but friendship lasts a lifetime. Moreover, for Batty, Loach is more than just a friend, he is family.

With the applause and cheers from all around, Batistuta raised his signature proud smile and strode onto the podium. Infantino congratulated him again on his award, and then, amid the even more excited cheers from the crowd, he handed the trophy to Batistuta.

Compared to other trophies he has won, this one is not heavy, but inexplicably, it feels particularly weighty in his hand.

"Thank you, thank you to everyone who came to the event. I am very happy to win the award and I am also very happy to break a record that has stood for more than ten years." Barty said officially.

He kissed the miniature football on top of the trophy, and the lights shone down on it, making the trophy sparkle, just like the rapper's chain at the beginning.

"I know what the standard process is after winning an award, thank the organizers, thank the country, thank the team, thank family and friends. But first, I want to thank a special person, someone who was not here at all, a, uh, idiot."

Batty spoke the winning words in his mind freely.

"He did a lot for me secretly, thinking I had no idea, but guess what - I knew it all."

Batty raised his eyes and looked directly at the host seat in front of him.

"I know you. Don't hide. You must be crying in front of the screen, right? Don't cry. Look at this treasure (trophy). You deserve at least 1/5 of the credit for it."

Some people in the audience had already guessed who Batty was talking about. They couldn't help laughing, and some even frowned.

Batty lowered his head and looked at the camera again.

"Thank you, Ney, you're a very, very good person. As I said before, we are a pair of socks now and in the future, only - well, only holes and untied threads can separate us, thank you!"

There was a burst of good-natured laughter from the audience.

"That's my son!" Ronaldinho came over and said to Cafu proudly, "The youngest World Footballer of the Year! Wohoo! He's better than his dad! Even his ability to tell jokes to liven up the atmosphere is top-notch!"

At the same time in Manchester, the person who was named was rubbing his eyes frantically in front of the computer. Of course, his eyes never left the radiant boy in the center of the screen.

His cell phone was not far away and was vibrating wildly. It was a series of calls from Rafina, but he didn't want to answer it. He knew his sister very well. The purpose of her calling was nothing more than two: to tease him if he really cried, and to tease him about how it felt to be called a nice guy and confessed to by the person he liked in public.

Oops!
Neymar swept all the half-wet paper balls on the table into the trash can. He couldn't describe how he felt at the moment. The trembling feeling as if his heart was about to jump out took away all his senses.

Barty thanked him extra special, which was really sweet, but…how could he bring up the socks thing? It was just a little romance between the two of them, which was annoying, and he didn't want to share it with the whole world, but…Barty thanked him extra special, and still, it was really sweet.

Neymar's expression switched back and forth between tears of joy and gnashing of teeth in embarrassment and annoyance.

Finally, all the emotions come together into one sentence -
"Barty! You little bastard!"

He raised his middle finger to Batty on the screen.

But I love you.

Even if you're a nasty little asshole who always breaks my heart.

But I fucking love you.

(End of this chapter)