[Football] Bad Boy Batty

There was a buzzing in his head and his ears felt like they were in the deep sea. Everything was hazy and he couldn't hear clearly. Batty tried to close his eyes and then open them again, and the dizzy feeling subsided a little.

This is not the first time Batistuta has been fouled violently. In fact, he started being fouled when he was still in the Brazilian Serie A.

Originally, the guards did not dare to touch him, but after finding out that they would not be shot, they began to act recklessly.

Yes, as long as it is not a foul that breaks a leg and ruins a career, Bloodhound will not do anything. On the contrary, he thinks these experiences can better train Batty.

Humph, what kind of exercise is this, Batty thought, he just wanted to get hurt and become more like his White Moonlight.

But so many years have passed, Bai Yueguang has become Batty's godfather, and he is hundreds of times better to him than to Bloodhound. Batty sneered in his heart, wondering if his number one adoptive father regrets this.

"Bati, are you okay?" Aguero's concerned voice came, "Hold on, the team doctor will be here soon."

When people are dizzy, they tend to think of all kinds of things. Batistuta shook his head to clear his mind, then curled his lips at Aguero.

"I'm fine. Fouls are pretty much the same in every league. This little action isn't enough to hurt me." He said, "What time is it? How many minutes are left?"

Aguero pulled Batistuta up from the ground. "I don't know what to say to you for still thinking about the game when you are like this." He scolded, "It doesn't matter. Move your ankle first and check if there is any problem."

"It's OK." Batty lowered his head and touched his right ankle, then pulled open his socks to check, "No sprain, no fracture, not even a scratch."

Just then, something terrible happened.

A few drops of something suddenly fell on the grass in front of Batty, and his sock-wearing hand paused.

"Ah Kun, look at what this is—"

Batty looked up to ask, but before he could finish his words, warm liquid suddenly flowed down from the top of his head. In a few seconds, his eyes were blinded, and after a few more seconds, the fishy liquid flowed to his chin and dripped onto his jersey.

"Ah, Ah, Batistuta!" Aguero screamed. He held Batistuta's face and tried to stop the bleeding. "Team doctor! Team doctor, come quickly!"

Acting captain Fernandinho heard the noise and rushed over, and became instantly nervous when he saw Batistuta’s face covered in blood.

"It must have been caused by the billboard," someone said.

Batty wiped the blood from around his eyes with his shoulder and looked towards the billboard. Sure enough, there was a broken piece there, with red stains on the gap.

The team doctor came and pulled apart Batistuta's hair to find the wound, cleaned it and gave him an ice pack. Aguero grabbed the ice pack and carefully applied it to him.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked.

"I don't feel anything. If it wasn't for the smell of blood, I would have thought it was beer thrown by the fans." Batty said, "Where is the referee? Did he give that guy a red card?"

Before Aguero could answer, the referee appeared in front of Batistuta, checked Batistuta's wound, discussed with the linesman, and then showed Pogba a red card.

[——Pogba was not calm enough, that action was indeed a bit too much, this red card is worthy of explanation, I hope Batistuta is okay. ]

Pogba didn't want to argue, he also felt that the red card was beyond reproach, so he waved his hands, muttering "bad luck" and prepared to leave the field.

As he passed behind Batty, he gave the light-colored head a teasing nudge.

The boy staggered forward twice, and the ice pack slid to the back of his neck. The cold touch made him shiver subconsciously.

"Hey! Watch out!" Aguero supported Batistuta and said to Pogba dissatisfiedly.

"I'm sorry." Pogba apologized insincerely, "I didn't mean it."

This behavior angered Batty.

Being fouled on the court is one thing, but being provoked after coming off the court is another.

He understood the defender's dangerous tackle. After all, football is not an elegant sport. Sometimes you have to use some tricks to win, and conflicts and collisions happen from time to time.

So Batistuta is not afraid of the Premier League, which is known as a meat grinder, nor is he afraid of physical confrontation, or even bleeding.

But this——

This is a provocation!

Batty was furious.

So at the moment Pogba turned around, Batistuta took two steps forward and stretched out his foot to block the opponent's way. The Frenchman was caught off guard and fell directly to the ground.

Everyone was stunned.

"Look, sir!" Manchester United captain Rooney was the first to react. He immediately put pressure on the referee, "He did it on purpose. You should also give him a red card!"

All this happened right under everyone's eyes, and the referee saw it all clearly.

And just like that, the second red card of the game was born.

The referee was stunned, the players were stunned, and the audience at the scene and in front of the TV were also stunned.

They never expected that Batistuta would achieve as many as five things in his first game, namely: multiple instigation of attacks, a goal, causing the opponent to get a red card for a foul, bleeding and injury, and he himself also received a red card.

Guardiola felt a throbbing pain in his temple.

Batistuta, on the other hand, glanced at the red card in the referee's hand, snorted in anger, and then cursed Pogba, who was tripped and fell to the ground, in a way that no one could understand:

"Who told you to push my head, you bastard!"

……

"Don't move, I have to clean your wound."

In the injury lounge, Manchester City's team doctor was using a cotton swab to reapply medicine to Batistuta's forehead. The game had been over for a while and the result was no suspense, 4-1, Manchester City took away 3 points from Old Trafford.

Batty didn't answer the doctor's words. He folded his arms and lay there sullenly, pretending to be a mummy. It wasn't because he was injured, but because - in addition to the doctor, Sam Eli was here, and he was trying to annoy Batty to death with his non-stop nagging.

The British are so strange, Batistuta thought. It was just a red card, but they acted like he had missed a penalty in the World Cup final.

"Buddy! Are you daydreaming?" Sam snapped his fingers in front of his eyes. "Did you hear what I just said?"

Batty was very frank: "No."

Sam felt his brain filling with blood and he took a few deep breaths to calm his heartbeat.

"you can not--"

"Come on, Sam." Buddy interrupted him impatiently, "I'm a little tired, so I didn't interrupt you just now. Now I'm getting annoyed. If you insist on nagging, then I'll have to argue with you."

Sam Eli felt like he had been weighed down by a pound of weight when he recalled the experience of being left speechless by the other party.

"Where's the loach?" asked Batty.

"I don't know. I didn't see him," Sam said quickly. "Buddy, you really need to be nice—"

At this moment, the door of the lounge was pushed open forcefully, and the sound of "bang" interrupted the translator's words again. It was Guardiola.

The Catalan came to Batistuta's bedside angrily: "What do you think, Batistuta, tell me, why did you get a red card at the end of the game? You were injured, Pogba was sent off, and this should have ended there, why!"

Batistuta believed Guardiola would not understand his counter-provocation and therefore did not defend himself.

"We won, didn't we?" The boy shrugged, looking nonchalant. "It's just a red card. Can they still stop me from playing?"

Guardiola felt like he was having trouble breathing.

"...Forget it, this is Manchester United. I'll tell you when we get back." The tired head coach looked at the team doctor, "How is his injury?"

"It's nothing serious," said the team doctor. "The wound isn't deep. He'll be able to run and jump again in two days."

Guardiola nodded, turned to Batistuta who was lying on the bed, and said, "Have a good rest." Then the head coach quickly turned around and left, as if he didn't want to stay for even a second longer.

Seeing him leave, Sam Eli hurriedly followed him. He was afraid that he would be mad to death if he said another word to this little bastard.

After the two men left, Loach poked his head out of the door.

Batty smiled, "I knew you didn't leave." He waved, "Where were you hiding? I looked for you in the stands but couldn't find you."

"I've been in the player tunnel." Loach came over and squatted beside the bed. "Don't listen to their nonsense. You were awesome just now! Whether it was scoring a goal or teaching that black guy a lesson (Loach is black, he used the N word), you were awesome!"

There was no time when Loach disagreed with Batty, and Batty patted his head. "I know," he said, "I am the best."

There was a knock on the door, and two men in red jerseys appeared at the door. They were Manchester United captains Rooney and Lingard. They came to visit the injured to show Manchester United's humanistic care.

Rooney shook hands with Batistuta, expressed his appreciation for his performance on the field in not very standard Spanish, and then asked about his injury. Compared with the polite and official captain Rooney, Lingard seemed to be here for fun.

"If you ask me, you did the right thing." Lingard smiled and hooked Batty's shoulder, "Paul is a man who needs to be dealt with."

Although he didn't quite understand the other person's English, he vaguely heard Pogba's name and raised his eyebrows. Lingard realized that the other person didn't understand, so he simply stood up, trying to imitate Batistuta's action of tripping Pogba, and then gave a thumbs up.

"He is rude."

Lingard and Rooney stayed for about seven minutes and left just as Aguero arrived.

"The head coach was very angry and was swearing in the locker room just now." The Argentine star also came to the bedside. He brought Batistuta his mobile phone and Loach made room for him. "How is it? Does it still hurt?"

"It's okay." Batty replied, "It's just a minor injury."

He turned on the screen of his mobile phone and saw that there was only a little battery left. His godfather immediately congratulated him on his first goal on social media, so Batistuta used the last 1% of battery to reply to him, and then the phone fell completely silent.

"How can a head injury be considered a minor one?" Aguero shook his head in disapproval. Suddenly, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out, looked at it, quickly typed a message and put the phone back in his pocket. "This is Britain. The habits of the British are completely different from ours in South America. You have to be nicer to yourself."

"Don't talk about 'us'. The Argentine football league is completely different from the Brazilian one." Batistuta quipped, "You must know that the Brazilians celebrated after Germany won in 2014, right?"*
Aguero symbolically patted the child's thigh to show his dissatisfaction.

"Don't poke my heart, that game is our eternal pain." He said, "There is one thing, Batistuta, what language did you use to scold Pogba just now, that last sentence? I seem to have never heard it before."

“Oh, that’s Cantonese.” Batty waved his hand. “There was a doctor in our slum who came from Hong Kong. I always stayed with him and learned a few words from him.”

"That's great. I've long wanted to curse at people on the field in a language that no one can understand. You have to teach me." Aguero joked, and then he motioned for Batistuta to get up. "Let's go. In order to help you adapt faster, I'll take you to a good place."

Good place?
Batty's laziness suddenly disappeared and he sat up.

"Is it the nightclub in Manchester?" he asked excitedly. "I've been wanting to go and see it for a long time."

Aguero shook his head. "I'm not taking you to a nightclub, forget it."

Oh.

Batty sat back down and became lazy again. "So where do you want to take me?"

"A bar." Aguero smiled mysteriously, "and it's a Manchester United fan bar."

Oh?
Batty's eyes became subtle: "I didn't expect you to be the kind of person who seeks excitement, Akun. I thought you were the kind of player in the previous generation who liked a simple life."

"...I don't like mediocrity, and I'm not a player of the previous generation." Aguero's mouth twitched. "After I win, I often go to the opponent's fan bar. I feel a sense of accomplishment when I hear them scolding me while drinking after the game."

Loach made a sound of approval. "That's a great idea!" the dark-skinned boy jumped up and said, "It's so cool to hear their frustrated but helpless tone!"

"Okay, let's go." Buddy got out of bed and greeted the team doctor before asking, "Where's Guardiola? Does he agree that I don't take the bus back?"

Aguero put his arm around his neck and ruffled his hair.

"Don't worry, he has left you to me." He said, "Let's go."

……

Barcelona, ​​at night, Neymar was taking a bath. On the wall-mounted TV in front of him was playing a replay of Manchester City's game tonight. Just when he was about to fall asleep, he received a call from Messi.

"I just called Kun, but he didn't answer. Then he sent me a text message telling me that Batistuta was injured and he would accompany Batistuta tonight." Messi's tone was unusually subtle and anxious. He said, "Can you call Batistuta? I have something important to tell Kun."

Neymar listened to him calmly, then scooped up a bunch of bubbles in the bathtub.

"You think I didn't try, Leo? I called Batistuta before you called, but guess what?" Neymar said in a voice close to heartbreak. "His phone was turned off."

Messi was silent for a long time.

"Maybe you can try to call Guardiola, you have his phone number, right?" Neymar said.

"Yeah." Messi sounded a little disappointed, "But with Kun and Batistuta together, Pep certainly can't help."

Neymar clicked his tongue a few times.

"Do you feel that they have been too close recently, almost sticking together, I mean Batistuta and Aguero." He complained immediately afterwards, "Bati was angry with me when we separated last time, so I always wanted to find a time to apologize to him, but I couldn't find the right time. Every time he was either with Aguero or with Aguero."

Messi agreed. "They have been really clingy recently. I'm not saying Batistuta is bad or anything like that, but Kun has been talking to me about Batistuta these days." Little Flea also complained, "My ears are almost callused."

"That's it - by the way, Leo, what are you going to say to Aguero?" Neymar asked.

"It's about Christmas," Messi said. "He asked me to spend Christmas with him."

"Christmas! This is a big deal!" Neymar raised his voice. After being ignored by Batistuta again and again, he became irritable and childish. "He stood you up on such a big thing - if you ask me, Leo, we two should play together. Ignore them. They stick to each other and we play ours. I have figured it out. If Batistuta doesn't apologize to me, I won't say a word to him!"

Messi was stunned for a moment: "About this——"

"That's a great idea, isn't it?" Neymar said. "Do you have plans after the game tomorrow? If not, I'll come find you and we can have a pool party and a barbecue, then take pictures and post them online to show them that we're still doing fine without them!"

Thinking that Aguero would take the initiative to call him at that time, the evil intentions that Messi had hidden for many years came out again.

"That sounds good," Messi said, his voice full of excitement. "Let's do it."

……

After changing clothes and putting on a hat, Aguero took Batistuta to a bar in Manchester. Everything in the bar, from the seats to the stickers on the floor, were related to Manchester United. There were also photos of the owner and Manchester United stars hanging on the wall.

Everyone here was very noisy. Sky Sports was playing on TV, and the host and guests were commenting on the Manchester derby that had just ended.

They went to the booth in the corner and sat down.

"Just beer, cold, with two ice cubes." Batty ordered very naturally. Apart from the terms used on the court, the first words he learned were the various types of alcohol.

The waiter nodded: "Okay, please show me your ID."

Batty: ?
Why do you need to check your ID when drinking beer?

"Don't listen to him, he's not old enough to drink." Aguero waved his hand, "Give me a beer and give him milk, how about you, Loach? (Loach: Same as him), then also milk, two glasses of milk, one beer, both with two cubes of ice, thank you."

The waiter looked at Aguero and then at Batistuta, as if he recognized them, but he didn't say anything. He just looked at them with subtle eyes for a few seconds and then left.

"What the hell?" Batty asked incredulously. "I just want a beer. That stuff doesn't even make you drunk!"

Aguero smiled and said: "Beer is also alcohol. You are under 18 years old. If you are found out, the boss here will be fined."

Soon his milk arrived. Batty looked at it with disdain, then called Loach to come over. After whispering a few words, Loach nodded and left.

"Where is he going?" Aguero asked.

"Go get some food." No, actually, go get some real wine, Buddy said.

Aguero did not suspect anything. He patted Batistuta's hand and said, "Don't be discouraged. This is only your first game. There is still a lot to adapt to. You have done quite well."

"How can you tell that I'm frustrated?" Batistuta raised his eyebrows and drank a sip of milk. "I don't think there is anything to adapt to. The Premier League is not that scary. Look at my goals. It's very simple."

Aguero smiled but said nothing.

"It's okay now, but in two months, you'll be crying during the competition," he said. "You'd better remember what you said now, because I'll laugh at you then."

Batistuta didn't understand the meaning of Aguero's smile, but he didn't intend to delve into it. Even if a few months or years passed, he would never cry while playing a game.

At this time, the Manchester United fans who were listening to the analysis in front of the TV screen burst into shouts, which contained anger, resentment, and undisguised appreciation.

Aguero's eyes lit up: "Listen! They're about to start!"

[——There is no doubt that Batista is a samba dancer, and his footwork is exactly what Brazilian football lacks the most.] The guest of Sky TV said, [It is said that the Samba Army has been bleak since 2010. It took a few years for Neymar to appear, and he was still alone in the national team. Now he has Batistuta, who is only 17 years old, and his future is bright.]

"Say something else, you old man!" A fat middle-aged fan with a big beard shouted, "It was because of that kid that we lost 1-4, at home! Stop praising him!"

The replay of Batistuta's goal was played on TV. As the guests analyzed the goal step by step, the fans began to complain in dissatisfaction, but the amazing thing was that no one had thrown bottles or anything else at the TV.

"They love you, Batistuta." Aguero added in a low voice, "Last time I scored a goal, someone threw a whole cup of ice cream at me while analyzing the replay." [Manchester City's deal now seems to be very successful, Batistuta is not uncomfortable with the Premier League. With Batistuta, Guardiola's team transformation plan is basically more than half completed.] The guest continued, [This season's Manchester City should not be underestimated, they have the strength to compete for the championship.]

"This old man must be from Manchester City, why does he keep bragging about Batistuta?" Another fan said dissatisfiedly. He is short and thin, like an oak stick. "Although we lost the game, I think our future is still good. Mourinho is managing the team with all his heart. He just hasn't waited for the right player yet."

[——Manchester City is very strong, but they will soon face another problem. Batistuta is like a beautiful and wealthy young girl. There will definitely be other teams interested in him.] The guest also said, [Manchester City should be careful. Even if he signs a 5-year contract, he may still be taken away by other clubs.]

The originally noisy Manchester United fans were quiet for a moment.

"Well, maybe the right player is here." said a bald young man wearing the jersey of Cantona, the former Manchester United king. "If Mourinho can bring Batistuta to Old Trafford——"

"Don't talk nonsense, that's a Manchester City player."

"But he was great, you can't deny that, otherwise we wouldn't have conceded the fourth goal."

"Yes, but we all know that the Glazers will not agree. Batistuta will be priced sky-high after this season." The bearded man disagreed at first, "We have already spent 1 million on Pogba. We can't spend that much more."

The fans were discussing heatedly whether they should spend a high price to buy Batistuta, as if the transfer deal had already begun negotiations. Batistuta couldn't fully understand what they were saying, but he knew that they hated him as an opponent.

"How are you? Do you feel better now?" Aguero took a big sip of beer. "One more thing, Batistuta. I have a solution for loach."

Ok?
Batty's attention was diverted.

"You mean to solve the problem of Guardiola shutting him out?" Batistuta pressed the brim of his hat and leaned lazily on the small sofa. "I think it's quite simple. I will visit our head coach one night in a few days and bring him a gift, such as a baseball bat. He will definitely agree."

Aguero: …

"No, Batistuta, you can't threaten the head coach with a baseball bat." The Argentine said with a headache, "I don't know what you've been through before, but this obviously doesn't work. I beg you, don't do this, listen to my way, okay?"

Batista is naturally stubborn and arrogant, but the strange thing is that he responds to soft tactics rather than tough ones. Aguero's gentle tone prevents him from making more extreme jokes.

"Okay, then tell me what to do."

Aguero said: "Let Niqiu get a nutritionist qualification certificate, and then you recommend him to join the coaching team. The club does not need to pay him a salary, but he is still a staff member in name."

Batty drank the annoying glass of milk in one gulp. "It sounds so troublesome. He has to take an exam. Loach has read fewer books than I have since he was a child. Asking him to take an exam? It's impossible."

"What's impossible?"

Just then, Loach came back with two colorful drink bags. He handed one to Batty and helped him put a straw in it.

"What were you talking about just now?" asked Loach.

"Nothing." Batty took the drink bag and took a big sip. "Yeah, Scottish whiskey is as good as the rumors say."

Aguero finally understood what Loach was doing, but it was too late. He could only cast a condemning look at the two people opposite him.

"We're talking about you getting a nutritionist certification," Aguero replied, "so you can come on the bus with us."

"Nutritionist qualification?"

"Don't listen to his nonsense." Batty waved his hand. "That thing requires an exam. If I could buy one, I would definitely buy it for you, but this thing can't be bought."

Loach stood there, silent for more than ten seconds, and then unexpectedly said: "I think it's feasible."

"Wait, are you serious?" Batty looked over in astonishment, "You need to read a lot of books."

"Yeah, I know, but I want to try." Loach shrugged and said generously, "Although I get a headache when I see long speeches, in order to be able to enter the locker room to help you, I must at least - hey!"

Before he could finish his words, a group of people rushed into the bar and rushed towards the booth regardless of anything, knocking Loach forward, causing him to accidentally grab Barty's drink bag, and the whiskey was instantly squeezed out and splashed all over Barty's face.

"Watch out! Idiots!" Batty took off his hat and fixed his hair. He licked the alcohol from the corner of his mouth and said to the group of people angrily.

Hearing Batty's "trouble", the others looked over to him. They were wearing the same uniforms and looked like some college student activity. The leading boy was the strongest, with green hair, like a football quarterback. He was drunk and flirting with a thin, fair-skinned boy.

"It should be the fraternity." Aguero tugged at Batistuta's sleeve and whispered, "Don't cause trouble, put on your hat, and let's go."

"Why leave? Those guys spilled my drink, I deserve at least an apology." Barty raised his chin and said, "And I still have to consider whether to forgive or not. I don't care if they are from a fraternity - do you understand, Winter Melon Head, apologize to me."

The green-haired leader narrowed his eyes as he looked at Barty.

Aguero's heart skipped a beat. This was not good.

He looked at Loach, hoping that he would join him in pulling Batti away. Otherwise, with the current speed at which news spread, this matter would be known to everyone within 5 minutes.

However, Loach stood beside Batty and acted as a good younger brother conscientiously. In other words, when the boss showed that he was going to take action, he had to fully support him and act as the atmosphere group.

Aguero's eyes went dark.

Now they could only hope that the other side didn't recognize them.

however--

"Ha! Isn't this the Brazilian Rose who just shined on the field? Why did you come to Manchester United's bar?" The green-haired man said disgustingly. He pushed away the two boys beside him and reached out to grab Batistuta's chin. "I've been annoyed by your arrogant look for a long time. You're unlucky to meet me today. Kneel down obediently and open your mouth to suck me, otherwise--"

Before he could finish his words, Batty threw the remaining drink bag over to him, and then took the opportunity to punch him in the ugly face.

Although the idiot had a thick accent, Batty could understand words like 'suck' and 'dick', and - many people had looked at him with this disgusting look, he knew it very well.

"Who do you want to suck?" Batty shook his fist and said fiercely, "Kiss my ass! Bastard!"

Loach's cheers were particularly loud in the quiet bar. "So cool!"

The green-haired man fell to the ground, bleeding from his nose.

"what happens?"

The noise of the fight attracted the attention of the entire bar, and of course, some people also noticed Batty who had taken off his hat.

The skinny guy just now raised his hand tremblingly: "That's not Ba——"

But before he finished speaking, the bearded man next to him saw the red jersey under the green-haired man's uniform. It was the same red, but not Manchester United's.

"Fuck! It's from Liverpool!" the bearded man shouted.

Oh – now it’s a lot more involved.

Everyone in the bar stood up, and some even smashed bottles. It was at this point that Manchester United fans discovered that their bar had been infiltrated, and there were many guys wearing Manchester City or Liverpool jerseys.

"Spy, it's a spy!" The bearded man yelled at the top of his lungs, then picked up a chair nearby, "Go! Drive those bastards from Liverpool and Manchester City out of our bar!"

The bearded man's voice was like a charge, and the bar suddenly fell into chaos.

The green-haired man's minions rushed towards Batti, but Batti did not flinch. He grabbed one of them with one hand and banged their heads together. Loach also came forward to help. They were from Rocinha and had held submachine guns before. Why were they afraid of this little bar fight?

Hearing chairs and bottles flying everywhere, as well as swear words and screaming, Aguero hid under the table and quickly called for help.

It's a mess. Everything is a mess.

……

"I really don't understand this kid Batistuta, Mikel, I've never seen anyone as difficult as him."

After returning to the club and sending the players off to rest, Guardiola stood in front of the tactical board and complained to Arteta. He scratched the non-existent hair on his head and looked at the news on the tablet with difficulty, pulling the corners of his mouth.

"His action is likely to be judged as a provocation and the FA will give him an additional suspension."

"Give him more time. He has just arrived and is still full of thorns." Arteta was very tolerant. "You have read his information, Pep. You know he comes from the slums, right? He has no parents, so his personality is easily affected."

"That's not a reason."

"But the impact has been formed. We should find a way to help him. He is very talented. You said that no one has reached this level since Messi." Arteta tried to enlighten him. "I suggest we talk to him, and not only about the red card, but also about his friend, Loach."

"Let's talk?" Guardiola raised his voice. "Do you think he will be willing to sit down and listen to us? Batistuta has several gangsters as his godfathers, and a big Hollywood director as his godfather. On the day of his transfer, they bought him the most expensive building in Manchester. I think that's how his character was formed. He is willful, self-centered, arrogant, and vengeful—"

“But he does have talent.”

"Yes." Guardiola frowned and stroked his beard irritably. "He has better talent than his father Ronaldinho. I can't watch him waste, but he... I really don't know how to communicate with him."

"Maybe we should start with the simplest one," Arteta said, "first put the loach--"

Just then, the sound of hurried running interrupted their conversation. It was one of the managers, who stopped at the door, panting heavily.

"Something happened," he said. "It was Batistuta. He got into a fight with someone in the Manchester United fan bar."

……

In the bar, the first floor was in chaos, but on the second floor, in a secret compartment that could see the entire first floor, someone was watching the scene below with great interest.

To be precise, he was looking at Batty.

"How beautiful! This kind of wild beauty." The young man said, "It really looks like the ocelot I raised before, dangerous but beautiful."

"That little thing was finally killed by you." His friend next to him said helplessly, "Honestly, you are going to graduate next year and join the family business management, don't mess with it now."

The young people turned a deaf ear.

"What family business? That's not important at all." He stood up and took off his high-end suit jacket. "Whatever I want, there is nothing I can't do."

Then, he jumped directly from the second floor despite any obstruction.

"Are you really going to give up inheriting a multi-billion-dollar house? Tsk, forget it."

……

Batistuta was already tired. He had just come off the field with a wound on his head. Although the British football hooligans were not very strong, they were outnumbered. After a few rounds, Batistuta began to gasp for breath.

"careful!"

Hearing the sound of the loach, Batty turned around suddenly and saw an empty wine bottle flying towards him. In the half second that he reacted, the bottom of the bottle was already in front of him.

Batty's pupils constricted.

This thing would shatter if it hit him in the face, and the resulting glass fragments would be as powerful as a shotgun blast.

But before he could close his eyes, a hand suddenly reached out from the side and grabbed the bottle in just a few seconds. The bottom of the glass of the bottle almost touched Batty's eyelashes.

"Don't be distracted. This thing will hit you in the face and it's very dangerous." The man said with a smile, "Be smart and don't let these hooligans take advantage of the opportunity."

After moving the bottle away, Batty saw the man's face clearly.

He was a very young man, Jewish-like, tall, looked at least 6.2 feet tall, in his early twenties, with dyed bright red hair, and two strands of hair dyed white on his forehead. He was wearing a well-tailored suit and looked like a student from a private university.

Batty narrowed his eyes: "Who are you?"

"Your friend." The young man narrowed his eyes and smiled. He helped Barty to fix his hair. "You don't need to know more than that."

Batty hated people who spoke in riddles, so he slapped the other person's hand away and decided to stay away from this weirdo for the rest of the time.

The young man didn't say anything, but just followed Batty with a smile like a fox, not too close but not too far away, and it was unclear whether he was protecting him or making trouble.

"I'll be watching over you, my pretty little ocelot."

……

When Sam Eli arrived with the police, the fight in the bar was almost over. Only Batistuta and another red-haired man were left standing. When Aguero, who had been under the table, saw them come in, he finally came out.

"Thank God! God, I'm going crazy." He grabbed Sam's sleeve and said, "I swear, I've never, never seen such a messy fight! Not even in the derby between River Plate and Boca."
"I came here as soon as I heard your call," Sam said, and then he called out to Batistuta: "Let's not talk about the red card on the court, what is this?"

"I didn't start it!" Batty was indignant. "That guy harassed me, said dirty words to me, and touched my face and butt!"

Just as the police behind Sam were about to take Batty away for questioning, the red-haired young man next to him suddenly spoke up and took everything on himself.

"I was the first to start the fight. It has nothing to do with him." The young man raised his hands and smiled, as if he didn't care about anything. "I have disliked them for a long time. They have been arguing since I walked in, so I couldn't help it and started fighting. You can take me away now."

Aguero and Sam Eli were both surprised. They knew that it was Batistuta who started it, but they didn't know why the young man in front of them would lie.

Batty said nothing and acquiesced to letting the police take the young man away.

Why not ask for someone to take the blame for you?

Before being taken away, the young man took the opportunity to hug Batty's waist and said, "Consider this as my reward for saving your life." He suddenly switched to Portuguese and said, "Don't worry, we will meet again, and by then-"

He deliberately didn't finish the second half of the sentence. Sitting in the police car, the red-haired young man waved to Batty and blew him a last kiss before driving away.

"Ew!" Batty said in disgust, "What a lunatic."

……

The matter at the bar came to a temporary end. Sam Eli sent Batty and the other two to the hospital for examination. The examination was quick and the results were released in just a few dozen minutes. While waiting, they were inevitably criticized again.

In order to protect his ears, Batty told a little lie and ran away. Soon, he took a taxi home with Loach.

The first thing I do when I get home is to charge my phone.

Just as I turned on the phone, a phone call came in.

It was Neymar, Batistuta subconsciously pressed the answer button.

It was a video call. As soon as the call was connected, Neymar's anxious face appeared on the other side, accompanied by a hasty inquiry: "I saw the news, Batistuta! You were harassed by football hooligans in the bar, those crazy dogs - are you injured? I remember you had a head injury during the game, are you okay?"

Batty smiled as he listened to the other party's concern flying at him like marbles.

"It's ok, Ney, I'm fine now," he said. "The injury from the game wasn't that serious, and I got through that bar thing, and a fool took it all for me."

Neymar breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you're okay."

and many more!

Neymar suddenly realized something and his eyes widened instantly.

"What did you call me?" He looked into Batty's eyes on the screen and asked cautiously, "Did you call me 'Ney'?"

Batistuta never called him so affectionately, he always called him by his full name Neymar or captain.

"Yeah, yes, I did. What's wrong?" Batty replied lazily, "You don't like me calling you by that name?"

"No, no, no, I like it. I like whatever you call me." Neymar replied with a smile, "I'm so glad to hear that you're okay. I haven't congratulated you on your first goal yet. Congratulations."

"Thanks." Barty jumped onto the bed and lay on his back, his light hair spread out, holding the phone up to himself. "But I think this side of England is still—"

Before he could finish his words, a message popped up on his phone, and Neymar watched as Batistuta on the opposite side stopped moving.

"What's wrong?" Neymar asked.

"Oh, nothing." Batistuta was a little dazed. "It's my godfather. He gave me a sports car as a first goal gift. It's an Aston Martin, a custom-made one. There is only one of its kind in the world."

Run, sports car?
Or a custom Aston Martin?
Neymar couldn't believe his ears.

But before he could be surprised enough, the second big news of the day came. Batty's eyes suddenly became shocked, and then he turned over and sat up in bed.

"Damn it, that guy is not only a lunatic, but also a famous and rich lunatic."

"What's wrong again?" Neymar asked nervously.

"Nothing, I just discovered the true identity of the person who took the blame for me."

Batistuta cleared his throat and read the Daily Mail text message that popped up on his phone to Neymar.

"——It is reported that Augustus de Rothschild, the youngest son of the Rothschild family, had just been involved in a bar fight. Reporters photographed him returning from the police station to Buckingham University to handle the withdrawal procedures. Just five minutes ago, he submitted his resume to Manchester United's youth training camp. According to insiders, the reason why he wanted to change his career to become a football player was because of Manchester City's superstar, the 5-year-old Batista who was just introduced from Brazil this summer."*
Neymar has completely lost for words.

(End of this chapter)