[Football] Bad Boy Batty

Things turned out pretty much as Batistuta had expected. The scene of him stepping on the mineral water bottle and exploding it was indeed captured on camera. Several media outlets rushed to report on it after the game, and it became a hot topic the next day.

The relevant topics on Twitter were full of fights between fans and haters, making the situation chaotic. After two days of intensive searching, Batty directly uninstalled the little blue bird from his mobile phone, thinking that out of sight, out of mind.

Fortunately, Manchester City won the game in the end, otherwise the criticism might be even louder.

At the Etihad training ground, the players had just finished a circle-grabbing training. Batistuta was in the middle and was intercepted 5 times and penetrated twice. The final statistics put him at the bottom, which made everyone hit their heads. Even Foden flicked Batistuta's head amid the crowd's booing.

It was obvious that he was in extremely bad shape.

It has been 3 days since Batistuta missed the penalty. Everyone hopes that the little king can come out of the shadow as soon as possible. It's not that no one has talked to him. After the game, Guardiola even allowed him to go to the nightclub to have fun, but Batistuta refused to admit that he was unhappy. He stubbornly told everyone that he was fine and he didn't need help.

"He's been unlucky lately. I've never heard of anyone breaking a goal drought and missing a penalty in the same game."

In a corner of the training ground, Kyle Walker was stepping on a freshly inflated football and chatting with Stones beside him. Now it was break time. They would go inside to lift weights in a while, and then do some aerobic exercise for a while.

"What's wrong with this kid? It's written all over his body that I care about him, but he won't admit it." Walker scratched his beard. "He's as stubborn as a donkey."

Stones shrugged: "How should I know, but that sounds very Batistuta."

"I think we have to do something, at least pull this stubborn guy out before he gets into a dead end." Walker kicked the ball and held it in his arms. Looking from a distance, Neymar was talking to Batistuta in the center of the field, but Batistuta looked a little absent-minded.

"What shall I do?" he said to himself. "Take him out? Is there any place in Manchester that he hasn't been to?"

"You ask me?" Stones dragged his friend inside. "Don't think about it, Kyle. There are many people who care about that little bastard."

"You are so cold."

"Neither of us are masters of Batistuta. This matter should be left to professionals, such as Kevin," Stones said. He did not want to be involved in the love-hate relationship between the Brazilian rose, "and I'm sure Pep is definitely more anxious than you."

"Hey! Don't drag me -" Walker broke free from Stones' arm, "That's not very nice. Batistuta is our little king. He's under so much pressure, we have to help share it."

Stones stared at Walker for a few seconds, then suddenly turned his head, pried open his eyelids and forced him to look towards the center of the training ground.

"Hey!"

"Shh, look carefully."

"What are you looking at?"

"See what's next to Barty?"

"...Our free kick coach, Arteta, Pep, and Neymar, they are all here." Walker didn't understand what his friend meant, "What do you want to say?"

"What I want to say is that they are enough to get him back to normal, especially Neymar. Have you forgotten that they were as good as one person during the World Cup?" Stones tried to explain, "And you have to believe in Batistuta, I'm serious, Kyle, he is only 19 years old, but the professionalism he shows in football is not just 19 years old."

Kyle Walker folded his arms and remained silent for a while, looking convinced.

"Okay, I'll listen to you," he said, "but I have to do something."

Stones sighed: "You don't understand me--"

"No, no, I get it." Walker stretched out a finger and shook it. "I just want to be a good and considerate teammate. Like - do you know what Battie likes to eat?"

Stones was stunned. If it was just like this, giving Batistuta a small gift or something, it would neither seem too indifferent nor be inexplicably involved, then he could totally accept it.

"Uh, chocolate?" The Manchester City center back said uncertainly. He scratched his hair and looked at his stupid roommate and best friend: "We can go ask Loach. You can't find anyone in the whole club who knows Batistuta better than him. Let him make the decision."

Walker nodded.

"That's it," he said.

On the other side, Guardiola was also having a headache about this. He looked at Batistuta who was communicating tactics with the set-piece coach not far away and rubbed his temples hard.

The kid had just rejected his kindness 5 minutes ago. That was the umpteenth time today that he had asked about the other party's condition, and the answers he got were either "I'm fine" or "It's no big deal, I'll adjust."

Guardiola believes Batistuta can adjust himself, but it is a long, difficult and painful process. However, if someone can give him a hand, the pain he needs to go through will be much less.

He also came from the playing days and he has missed penalties, so he fully understands what that feeling is like.

as well as--

Guardiola believes that the reason why Batistuta was in poor training these two days was not only the penalty kick that hit the goal frame, but also his recent controversial "mature performance".

"Don't look at me like that, Pep, I'm fine!"

Batistuta's voice pulled Guardiola out of his memories. The Catalan raised his hand as a gesture of concession, then looked away.

What a little bastard! He cursed inwardly.

"Ney! Come here." Guardiola waved Neymar and said straight to the point: "You have to talk to Batistuta about the penalty and everything recently. Let him open up and don't keep everything in his heart. That's not good for him, and this bad thing refers not only to his competitive state."

Neymar seemed a little surprised by the coach's request, but he quickly smiled and nodded to Guardiola: "I was going to talk to Batistuta too."

"Any ideas?" Guardiola asked. "It's not easy to reason with him. Usually he interrupts me before I even start."

"Sort of," Neymar shrugged, as Batistuta commented, in some cases, he missed the Brazilian more than he did. "Don't worry, Pep, I can handle it."

……

After the training, Neymar tricked Batistuta back home with a somewhat far-fetched excuse. He had greeted them an hour earlier. In the huge villa, there was no one else except the cleaner and the nutritionist.

Batistuta was very relaxed throughout the whole process. After entering the house, he walked to his favorite living room as if he was familiar with it, jumped onto the sofa and found a comfortable position for himself to lie down. When Neymar parked the car and walked in, Batistuta was already watching cartoons with a glass of apple juice.

"Hey! Have you watched the latest episode of Champions League Villa? The Americans (producers) just won't let you go and used a whole episode to blacken you." Batistuta let go of the straw and joked, "I have to say - Neymar Rolling is really interesting."

"If it makes you laugh, then it's worth it." Neymar walked behind Batistuta, took the cup from him and drank a big sip of apple juice with a straw. "Hey!" Batistuta looked up at him with wide eyes, "Go get a new one, don't grab it from me!"

"I'm sorry, it's just that it tastes so good." Neymar pretended to return the cup to him, but immediately took it back. Batistuta missed it and gave him a pair of fresh eye rolls.

"Childish." Barty raised his chin and commented disdainfully, "In that case, let's get back to business. Ney, where are those steam pants that relieve muscle fatigue that you asked me to look at?"

"Oh, that's not the point." Neymar sat sideways on the sofa next to Batistuta. "That thing is very common. I told Niuchi about it. The production company will go back and give you the test data in two days. You will have it in half a month."

Batty narrowed his eyes.

He didn't like the current atmosphere, which was neither ambiguous nor interesting.

The little king crossed his arms, a subconscious act of resistance, and asked in a long voice: "So, what's the point?"

Neymar drained the last of his apple juice: "The point is - we have to talk."

what!
Batistuta almost jumped up from the sofa. "I knew it!" He pointed his index finger at Neymar. "Pep asked you to do this, didn't he? How many times have I said I'm fine! I'm-fine! God, which word do you not understand?"

The atmosphere became a little tense.

Neymar doesn't like this either, but he has to do it for Batistuta and the team.

"No, Pep. I want to talk to you," he said, fiddling with the straw. "And you're not okay. No matter how many times you tell me you're not okay."

"How dare you say that!"

"Why not? You've been at the bottom of the training these past two days. Even Walker has a lower turnover rate than you." Neymar looked Batistuta in the eye and said mercilessly, "If you continue like this, we will fall out of the Champions League zone. This is not a joke."

Batistuta made a few nasal sounds of annoyance, and he seemed to be about to mock something, such as Neymar's sudden serious attitude and his tone of concern for the team's performance like an assistant coach.

But the fact is, he didn't say a word, he just sat back on the sofa angrily.

Batty: "You want to talk? FINE! Then let's talk!"

Neymar rolled over from the sofa and sat down in front of Batistuta smoothly. He kicked off his shoes, half-lying on the sofa, then waved to Batistuta, trying to make the whole conversation in an intimate and comfortable environment.

After half a minute of stalemate, Batty compromised.

He spread Neymar's knees and threw himself over, finding a warmer, more comfortable way to lie down, like two cats curled up in a ball in a corner of the sofa.

"I'm stupid," Batistuta said suddenly. "These past two days, every time I close my eyes, I can see myself taking a penalty kick. The goalkeeper guessed the wrong direction, and I kicked it into the goal frame. It was so stupid."

"Well, I admit that your penalty was really shit." Neymar put his hand into Batistuta's hair, "But it doesn't matter, every player... I mean at least forwards have this. I also missed a penalty, and it didn't hit the goal frame, I kicked the ball directly into the stands!"

"Really?" Batistuta took Neymar's other hand and traced his tattoo. "It sounds true. Yours (penalty) was a little stupider."

"It's not just me, the greatest football players in the world can't escape missing penalties." Neymar said, "Pele missed it, Ronaldo missed it, Beckenbauer missed it, Cruyff missed it, but that didn't stop them from becoming great players."

"I know, I just - very unhappy." Barty replied slowly, "You know I can't live without my phone, Twitter, IG and various social software, and then I will see people's comments. I know I shouldn't care, but... I'm never good enough."

"I understand you very well, because I have been through this. When I first went to Barcelona, ​​they called me a fake. I was so sad when I heard this. Can you imagine?" Neymar said with a smile, "I know it's not easy, but you can definitely do it. We have experienced the long penalty shootout in the World Cup and lost to France. What else can't we do?"

Batistuta got excited again when talking about this: "Yeah! 16 rounds of penalties! World Cup final! I took two penalties! I didn't miss a single one, but this time it was just a simple League Cup, I shouldn't have——"

"No, that's all in the past," Neymar interrupted.

"It's in the past, but I won't forget it!" Batty was a little incoherent, "I remember everything!"

Neymar reached out and forcibly covered Batistuta's eyes, feeling the touch of his eyelashes scraping against his palms. He said: "You put too much pressure on yourself, Batistuta. You have to understand that 'mature decision' does not mean that you have to suppress yourself and learn not to care."

"What?" Batty looked confused. "You didn't hear me. I'm learning—"

"Remember the game against Manchester United?" Neymar interrupted him again. "Augustus kicked me to vent his anger on his teammates. To be honest, it hurt, but I just looked at him and smiled, because apart from this, he couldn't find a better way to deal with me. It didn't cause any harm to me at all."

Darkness enveloped Batistuta, and he uncontrollably followed Neymar's voice to imagine and recall. Soon he was back on the court that day, reliving the other party's smile that made his heart beat faster.

The air was quiet.

The entire living room can hear no other sound except the sound of the highly designed clock.

After a long time, Batistuta finally moved. He took Neymar's hand away from his eyes. The sudden light made him uncomfortable for a moment. Batistuta squinted his eyes to look for the blurry figure of Neymar above his head.

“It’s really tiring to be people’s perfect little king,” he said.

"You don't need to cater to other people's ideas deliberately, just be yourself." Neymar said, "It's not easy to describe, but - no matter what choice you make, I support you and I'm always here."

Batistuta was not used to and didn't know how to deal with such sensationalism. He buried his face in Neymar's sweatshirt, staring at the fur balls that formed after wearing it for a while in silence.

It took a long time, so long that Neymar thought Batistuta had fallen asleep.

A muffled sound came from his chest.

"Yeah, remember."

……

At the same time, Kevin De Bruyne received good news that he can start recovery training and if he is lucky he can catch up with the Club World Cup.

He stared at the number on his phone, thought about it, and finally decided not to call it.

Looking forward to seeing you again at the training ground, what will your expression be then?

(End of this chapter)