[Football] Bad Boy Batty

Without wasting a minute, Batty was taken to the medical center for examination.

"Don't worry, it'll be fine." The team doctor comforted him.

Batty smiled and didn't answer.

He looked at his right knee, which was already red and swollen, and in severe pain. In order to check the accuracy of the results, they couldn't give him painkillers or injections until they determined what the problem was.

That's nothing, he thought.

Compared to the gunshot wound that almost pierced his collarbone, this pain can be ignored. But no, perhaps it is because life has become much more comfortable in the past few years since he left Brazil, which has caused Batistuta's tolerance for pain to decrease. The more he comforts himself with the previous injury, the more painful his knee is.

He shouldn't focus on that.

There are more important things at the moment, such as -

This is his first knee injury. Will it affect his future football playing?

Countless possibilities flashed through Batistuta's mind, including the worst possible scenario, that he would end his career early like the alien Ronaldo.

When this thought first occurred to him, he told himself that it was impossible, but as he waited for the inspection equipment to be ready, he thought of that possibility more and more frequently, and each time it gave him an indescribable feeling of falling more than the last.

Stomach churns.

Batty felt a sour taste in his mouth.

He suddenly wanted to eat the pudding from the club kitchen, he thought as he stared at his toes which were covered with slippers.

"Bati! Batti! Boss—"

The urgent roar of Loach came from the other end of the corridor. It seemed that he had followed all the way from the playground. He ran over panting and even fell in the process. His nose hit the raised foot of a lady. Fortunately, the lady was not wearing high heels.

"Huh..." He almost slid to his knees in front of Batty, "How do you feel?"

Seeing Loach's nervous look, Batty cheered himself up and smiled at him: "It's okay, it doesn't hurt as much as a gunshot wound."

"How can this be compared! The one who shot you was a gang member, and this time it was a Paraguayan bastard!" Loach was indignant, "Alzamendia, I found his name, don't worry, I remember him, and I will definitely not let him off easily!"

Humph.

Batty thought of the guy's smug face on the court and sneered.

Hate?

Not to mention.

There are so many fouls on the field, and even red cards for intentional injury are not uncommon. Since the founding of football, violence has always been its synonym.

Of course, this doesn't mean Batty can forgive him.

If he had the chance, he would have returned the gesture to Alzamendia, even if it cost him a red card.

But now——
There is no doubt that guy will be targeted.

Not only the players on the field, but also Alzamendia's room will surely have some 'surprises' when they return to the hotel. The Brazilian slum gangs are stronger and more powerful than people imagine.

Now Batistuta only hopes that his teammates will not be blinded by anger. Paraguay is one man down, and this is a good opportunity for them to score another big score.

"You will be fine!" Loach held Batty's hand tightly. "The merciful God will not let anything happen to you, I believe."

Batty gave him a smile: "I believe it too, Amen."

At this time, a man wearing a white hat opened the door and walked out. The Brazilian team's team doctor came forward immediately. He gave a brief explanation and then looked at Batistuta.

"Take off your clothes and get ready. The inspection will begin soon."

……

Thanks to modern medicine, the examination was carried out quickly. They gave him a sack-like garment to wear. After removing all jewelry, Batty lay flat and was sent into the machine for a knee scan.

The whole process was over in a few minutes.

A special doctor then questioned him and pressed around his knee to measure the degree of swelling and record the angle to which his right leg could be bent.

What follows is a long wait.

Batistuta was sitting on the bed in the clinic with an ice pack, Loach was beside him, and the team doctor was in front of them. More team doctors had arrived not long ago. They were all crowded in this small room, praying together for Batistuta's injury.

"Want to watch the game?" someone asked.

Batty looked at the TV on the opposite wall, thought about it, and shook his head to refuse.

"I prefer surprises." He shrugged, trying to look relaxed. "I'm sure someone will tell me the results later."

"Then..." Loach looked over, "Let's guess the score!"

"I think it's going to be 4-0."
"No, no, Paraguay is one man down, 7-0 is still appropriate."
"When I first came out, it was already 4-0."

"What about you, Batty?" Everyone looked at him, "What score do you think we'll get?"

"Me?" Batty crossed his arms and flashed his signature smile. "If possible, I hope they can get the score to double digits."

……

Soon, Neymar arrived at the scene.

According to the game time and the distance between the stadium and the hospital, if he was not substituted off early, he must have run through dozens of red lights to get here.

"How is it!" he asked anxiously, "Are there any results? What's the problem?"

"Relax, don't you see we are all waiting here?" Batistuta stretched, and the moment he saw Neymar, he felt much better for some reason, "Come, come and sit down."

Neymar hesitated.

"Come on, waiting is boring." Batty patted the bed next to him, "Tell us how our game against Paraguay ended."

"Won."

"I know." Batty smiled. "If I can't win again after playing like this, I'll bang my head against the wall of the hospital and die."

"Hey!" Neymar was very dissatisfied with his statement.

Batty raised his hands: "That's what I said."

"Before the results come out, you have to pay attention." Neymar frowned and said, "Otherwise God will not help you, believe me."

"I believe you." Batistuta waved his hand. "I won't say anything. Now tell me, did you score a big score?" "Of course!" Neymar raised his voice. He remembered the scene of Batistuta being kicked down in the first half of the game, which made him snort like a buffalo. "I should let you see the expressions of those Paraguayans. We broke the record, Batistuta. For you, we scored the biggest score in the history of the America's Cup."

"How many?"

"11-0, can you believe it?"

There was a small burst of exclamations in the room, except for Batty, who had expected this.

"Very good." He patted Neymar's still wet head, "It deserves a reward."

"Right." Neymar gave him a 'really' look.

But happy to be happy.

They have to wait for Batty's test results to come out, and if the results show that they are good, they can rest assured. Otherwise, this victory will always be overshadowed by a bloody shadow.

"Wait." Batty moved his shoulders. "It should be soon."

……

As far away as France, several people were also following the game.

In the ancestral manor of the Rothschild family, Augustus held the information of the Paraguayan defender with a gloomy expression.

He handed the information to a man in a suit behind him and hooked his finger, saying, "Pay attention and find that hospital. Once the condition is confirmed, tell me immediately and get ready to contact the best doctor."

The man in the suit responded and left the room.

"Only I can make you hurt and cry." Augustus whispered to himself, "Don't fall down before I completely defeat you, my dear, Barty."

……

On the other hand, Mbappe is also keeping an eye on the news.

Because of Batistuta's suspected knee injury, he has not looked at the information given to him by Manchester United for 20 minutes. If the injury has a serious impact and even threatens his career, then his reason to go to the Premier League will disappear.

"Hmph, don't lose before I'm there, asshole."

……

After an unknown amount of time, a doctor finally came out of the room.

The Brazilian team doctors stood up at the same time and went over to greet them.

"How is it?" they surrounded the doctor and asked.

"Two pieces of news." The doctor squeezed through them and stood next to Batty, "One good news and one bad news."

"Haha!" Batty looked into the doctor's eyes. "Is it popular here to play the same game as in TV dramas now? Good news and bad news. Haha, okay, I'll hear the bad news first."

Although he was joking, he was already frowning inside.

It's more tense than taking penalties in the World Cup final.

"The bad news is that you have sprained the anterior cruciate ligament of your knee, which is also known as ACL in the industry. You will definitely not be able to play in the remaining games, including the final, if we can make it," said the doctor.

hiss--

Batty was mentally prepared.

But to be honest, this still made him feel dizzy.

ACL, how many players' careers have been ruined by it.

Neymar noticed that Batistuta's face suddenly turned ugly, so he quickly asked the doctor: "What's the good news?"

"The good news is that his injury is mild, not to the extent of tearing, and not even to the meniscus." The doctor said cheerfully, "This injury was sudden and not serious. He needs at least two weeks of rest, plus professional rehabilitation training. Once he recovers, it won't affect his future."

God.

God bless.

Batty felt like he could breathe again.

It’s like returning to the shore from a suffocating trench. Looking up, you can see the beautiful sunrise, which symbolizes hope and light.

"No, you are kidding." Batty looked at the doctor, his eyes trembling, "It's just a minor injury, no tear? Are you sure? There can't be any mistake."

The doctor smiled and rubbed Barty's head.

"Well, 99.9 percent sure," he said. "The remaining 0.1 percent is that you don't even have to rest for two weeks and you can be back on the training ground next weekend."

"Did you hear that?" Batistuta excitedly looked back and forth between the team doctor, Neymar, and Loach, "He said I'm fine! I'm fine!"

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're okay!" Neymar avoided his knees and gave him a hug, "I'm so glad you're okay, we will win more trophies together in the future!"

"Ohhhhhh!!" Batistuta cheered, hooked his arm around Neymar's neck, and then kissed him on the lips in public, "Thank you! Thank you! Oh, thank you too! And you - thank you all!!"

No one had any problem with the kiss, they just thought he was too excited.

Batistuta was then pushed to another room. Now they have to start working on his treatment plan. During the process, they also have to communicate with Manchester City Club and tell them Batistuta's true condition so that they can work together to get him back on the field as soon as possible.

Neymar sat in the corridor, silently reading the Bible in his heart and thanking God for his favor.

Just then, Batti's lost cell phone rang.

Loach was the first to look at the screen.

"It's Aguero," he said to Neymar. "You take it."

Neymar had no objection.

"Hi, Kun, it's me, Batty--"

However, Aguero's anxious words interrupted him, leaving him stunned.

"Something's wrong, Batistuta, please help us, otherwise our team's management might die in the slums!" Aguero was surrounded by a lot of noise, and it sounded like there were police officers maintaining order. "Please, Batistuta, we really have no other choice."

Ok?
Neymar glanced at his phone and then looked at Loach.

What happened in Argentina?
(End of this chapter)