[Football] Bad Boy Batty

"Hey, John." Batty walked into the preparation room carrying his sneakers and greeted Stones. "Why didn't you go to my party a few days ago? There was anchovy pizza that you liked."

"I have something to do." Stones acted a little cold, but it was definitely not because of Batistuta. He looked up and gave the captain in front of him a smile, although it was uglier than crying. "Next time, next time I will go."

"Are you upset because of those reports?" Batty asked while changing shoes, trying to be positive. "I read it, it's not true. Your mistakes were a bit stupid, but not stupid enough to be unacceptable, you understand."

what.

Stones smiled, he knew what Batistuta wanted to do, but this guy really didn't know how to comfort people. Listen to what he said, could he be any more arrogant?

"I'm fine," he said. "I don't read the comments. They can't hurt me."

"but I--"

Batistuta stood up, but before he could finish his words, the cell phone in his pocket rang. It was a special ringtone that Neymar had set for himself on his phone. It was a love song that was popular in America many years ago.

"Sorry." He gestured to Stones, then went to the door to answer the phone, "I told you not to call me unexpectedly Ney, you can send me a private message if you have anything."

"Wow, sorry, I'm not Neymar, I didn't know about your little agreement." A heavy-accented laugh came from the other side, "Good afternoon, Batistuta baby, remember me, your old friend Gerard Pique in Catalonia."

Pique?

How did he have Neymar's phone?

Batistuta was stunned for a moment, then remembered that their trip to the United States this summer was with Barcelona and they were staying in the same hotel, so he did have a chance to get the phone.

"Okay, Pique, what's up?" He stretched his neck. "Hurry up and tell me. I still have training."

"Whether I can say it quickly depends on whether you can remember it quickly." Pique said ambiguously, "Remember what you promised me last season that night?"

"What? I promise you—"

Oh, he remembered.

He did promise Pique one thing last season.

"Remember?" Pique's voice came with a smile, "I brought my best clothes waiting to meet the famous Edmundo, but you didn't come. Can you understand how sad I was when I found out that your name was not on Manchester City's roster?"

"——You talk too much nonsense." Barty rolled his eyes, "I didn't agree at that time."

"How could you do this, baby?" Pique pretended to sob. "In our Catalan country, 'I'll think about it' means consent. You deceived my feelings."

"'I'll think about it' doesn't mean that in any language or region." Batty took a deep breath, considering that the guy was sincere in discussing the contract, "Listen, I don't have to go over there to introduce you. I'll give you my godfather's private number later, so don't bother me anymore."

"I knew it!" Pique laughed and gave Batistuta a loud kiss over the phone. "Thank you, baby. I won't disturb you from training. Please continue. Remember to send me your number. See you later!"

Batty immediately hung up the phone.

He quickly found Lucy's number from the communication and sent it to Pike, then briefly explained to Lucy the reason why he would never give out his godfather's private number.

After doing all this, Batistuta turned around and Stones packed himself up. Just then, the fitness coach came out of the room and signaled them to go to the field quickly.

Batty touched the England defender's arm.

"Come on, let's go for a run. We'll have to challenge the cold room again when we get back inside."

……

Today is not only the day that Batistuta and Stones resume training, but it is also the day when one of Manchester City's new players comes to visit on his first day of transfer.

Rodrigo Hernandez Cascante, a Spaniard, plays as a defensive midfielder.

Oh, another Hernandez has arrived in Manchester.

"Come on, smile!" Photographer Anna said to the two people at the table, "Keep it up, take more photos."

The contract was laid out on the table, where Rodri and City's director of football, Begiristain, were sitting, smiling and shaking hands.

"Very good." Anna took several photos in a row. About half a minute later, she put away the camera, gave the two of them a thumbs-up, and joked, "It's over. You can move your stiff mouth corners now."

The football director stood up first. He shook hands with Anna, thanked everyone else, and finally told all the staff to move to the next place, as there was still a lot to do on the day of joining.

For example, an interview.

But before that, there is still some time to rest.

"I'm sorry to make you go through this, but you know, it's necessary." Begiristain turned to Rodri and said with a smile, "Your predecessors went through this too, Neymar, he smiled longer the day he came."

"I understand." Rodri was very calm. "This is not the first time I have been involved in a transfer project."

"But this is your first time in England, Manchester, Manchester City." Begiristain patted him on the back and asked him to turn around and look behind him. "Look, this is where you will train in the future, half of your home, the Etihad Stadium. Isn't it beautiful?"

Rodri stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the entire stadium.

"Yes, it's beautiful," the Spanish midfielder reiterated. "I am very happy to join a big club like Manchester City. Thank you for everything you have done for me, Mr. Begiristain."

"That's right," the manager said. "Finding good players for the team is one of my jobs."

As they were chatting, the clouds in the sky over Manchester dispersed, revealing a rare ray of sunlight. At this moment, through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the office, Rodri noticed two figures running on the training ground.

Begiristain followed his gaze.

"Oh, that's Stones and Batistuta, you should know them," the director said, "most of the others are in the United States. They are injured and didn't go with you."

Rodri nodded.

"You know, you should go say hello later." Begiristain suggested, "Stones is your future defensive partner, and it's important to build tacit understanding. And Batistuta, he's the captain and also Manchester City-"

"The little king of Manchester City," Rodri said. He had done his homework before coming. "I know that everyone in Madrid is talking about his name."

Begiristain smiled.

"Yes, Real Madrid wants him like crazy." The manager joked, patting Rodri on the shoulder, "Go ahead, it will be good for you to get to know him."

Rodri nodded again: "I will go."

"By the way..." Begiristain drawled, "Don't call him little king, he doesn't like it. Call him king."

Is this so?

Rodri turned his head and looked out the window.

Batty and Stones had already gone around to the other end. They stopped running and it seemed that they had finished their warm-up.

The King of Manchester City.

The Spanish midfielder silently repeated his name several times.

See you later.

……

"Who else hasn't gone?" In a corner of the training ground, Batty stepped on the training ball, feeling the warmth of the sun. He took a sip of water and asked, "You, me, and who else?"

"Raheem didn't go either." Stones next to him lowered his head and adjusted his pants.

"Rahim? Why didn't he go?" Batty handed over the water.

"I don't know." Stones took the water bottle. "There's no news about his family problems, but that's not the main thing. I heard from the national team that he is not satisfied with his playing time and may want to transfer."

"What!!" Batty opened his eyes wide and kicked the ball away, "Is this true?"

"I don't know," Stones repeated, shrugging. "Raheem came before both of us and he was always there, you know, until -"

"Until Neymar joined us," Batistuta said. "Yeah." After running a few laps, the England defender was no longer as indifferent as he was at the beginning. Maybe the sun melted the ice he had deliberately covered himself with, or maybe Batistuta's companionship therapy worked. "Everyone wants to be a starter, everyone wants to be an important person in the team, I can understand him."

Batistuta was about to speak when he suddenly realized that what Stones said seemed to be talking about himself.

Last season, his form was unstable, with ups and downs. After recovering from injury, he gradually faded out of the main lineup. Kompany, Otamendi, Laporte, and even Lucas have replaced him.

It's not a pleasant feeling to sit on the bench.

It feels even more painful when you see someone else standing in the position that should have belonged to you and performing better.

"Vini is gone and has become a coach. We will miss him. But now there is a more important question. Who will command the defense when he leaves?" Batty touched Stones' arm and said suggestively, "I am the captain and I will take responsibility, but at the same time I am a right winger. I can't run back from the front and tell them what to do. John, can I trust you?"

Stones was stunned.

But he didn't look at Batty. He squatted down and stared at the grass watering hole in front of him.

"John." Batty followed his gaze and asked again: "Can I trust you?"

"Yeah." The England defender uttered a single sound from the depths of his throat, "I will try my best to fill the vacancy left by Kompany. I am not the kind of person who gives up easily. I love Manchester City, I love everyone here, I love you, captain."

"so--"

"So." Stones stretched and stood up, showing Batistuta his signature smile. "We were just talking about Raheem, how come we got off topic?"

Batty looked him in the eyes and smiled after a few seconds.

"Yes, we are talking about Rahim." He shrugged. "So back to what happened earlier, is it true that he is leaving?"

"I think so." Stones ran over to pick up the ball that Batistuta had just kicked away. "He has a bad temper and he has the quality to play for a championship team. He definitely doesn't want to be a substitute for Neymar all the time."

Batty thought about it and nodded.

“Has he decided where to go?” he asked. “As far as I can remember, Raheem was not too keen on playing abroad.”

"I don't know about that." Stones tried to spin the ball on his fingers. "The club certainly doesn't want him to go to a competitor, but as long as someone is willing to pay for him, even if it's Manchester United, we have to agree."

"Ewwwww!" Batistuta made a disgusted sound. "No, don't. I don't want to see Raheem's face in Manchester United's clothes. It makes me want to vomit."

"It's not 'face' and 'in', it's 'face' and 'on'." Stones jokingly corrected Batty's grammatical error, "You can't print your face inside the jersey, but you can put your face on it, understand?"

Batty glared at him.

"Are you serious?" he complained. "We're talking about a serious transfer and you're telling me grammar?"

"Hahahahahaha you really should look at your face!" Stones laughed and pointed at his nose. "I love the expression on your face when your nose is crooked because of anger. It's so cute, just like a kitten, breathing at me!"

Batty: ...

"Johnny dear, you've been drifting a lot lately." Batty cracked his fingers, "Come here, let me teach you a lesson!"

"Ha! Come on!" Stones threw the ball to Batistuta, then turned around and ran without even a second, "You can't catch me! Batistuta baby, you're not even the fastest one in Manchester City, but even Kyle can't catch you!"

"I think you've had enough of life (roll up your sleeves)"

"Hahaha! Then come here! Little cutie, kittykity!"

“…Just stand there!”

The two started a thrilling and exciting chase in the training ground.

The physical trainer stood not far away, watching the two "older children" he was responsible for today chasing and playing around, and sighed with a frown on his face.

What kind of players are they?

……

"You think I can't catch up with you! Hey Johnny! Eat mud--"

Batistuta accelerated to catch up with Stones, grabbed the back of his jersey, pulled hard, and then pressed on him like a cheetah pouncing on its prey.

"Puff--" Stones stumbled and fell to the ground, but he did not give up. Just as he said, he immediately turned over and tried to throw Batty off. "You can't catch me! I'm not that guy Bernardo, so you can do whatever you want to me!"

"Really? But I think you're very—huh?"

Batty's words were interrupted again, but this time it was not the ringing of a cell phone or anything else that interrupted him. What interrupted him was a shadow that was looming over him.

"What's wrong?" Stones also noticed the shadow's presence. "What happened?"

Batistuta straddled the England defender, and they both looked at the owner of the shadow. The first thing they saw was a pair of casual shoes, followed by a pair of black tapered trousers, and then a very ordinary white shirt.

Against the white background, the guy's skin looked a little darker.

Is Latino.

The moment their eyes met, a flash of awkwardness passed through the air.

"Hello." The man waved and greeted in English, "I am Rodrigo Hernandez Caskante. I transferred to Manchester City today and just completed all the procedures. Nice to meet you."

……

Batistuta and Stones got up from the grass, brushed off the grass debris on their clothes, stood up as if nothing had happened, and shook hands with Rodri respectively.

"Don't mind what you just saw." Batistuta smiled at him. "I swear, Manchester City is a very special club. You will never find a team with a better atmosphere than this one."

"Yes, that's right." Stones agreed. "That was just-it was our way of expressing our love for each other, just like brothers and sisters. Do you have other brothers and sisters?"

"Yes." Rodri nodded, "I understand."

"Today is your first time, take a good look around, it's very big here, don't get lost." Batty changed the subject a little abruptly, "Do you have your phone with you? Let's follow each other, then I'll send you some information and add you to the group...IG or Twitter, which do you use more often?"

What he didn't expect was that Rodri shook his head.

"I don't use social media," he said. "I don't have Instagram or Twitter. I have a Facebook account, but it's not my own and I don't use it very often."

what!
This guy doesn’t even have a social media account!
Batty's eyes widened as if he had seen a dinosaur fossil. He exchanged glances with Stones, and then looked up and down at the newcomer in front of him again.

"You don't use social media?" he asked again. "So what do you do when you're not training? Do you watch TV?"

"Read books and do homework." Rodri gave the second answer that shocked Batistuta today.

"Do, do homework?" The King of Manchester City looked at him in disbelief. "You still have to do homework? What? Are you a student or something?"

"Yes, I am a student," Rodri said. "Two years ago, I was admitted to the University of Castellón in Madrid and I am currently studying business administration."

Batty almost fainted.

"John, can you believe it? He's a college student!" he said in a weird voice. "After the competition, we'll be partying in the nightclub, and this guy will be writing a paper at home. Jesus fucking Christ, who dares to believe it?"

Stones was so shocked that he couldn't speak.

"Hell, no, I mean, that's amazing," the England defender exclaimed. "Playing professionally and going to university at the same time is unbelievable."

"That's not difficult." Rodri smiled, "Anyone can do it as long as they work hard."

"I can't." Batistuta said firmly. He narrowed his eyes and examined the new Spanish midfielder. "I don't care if you have an inspiring story. From today on, I will call you a college student... or a student boy, or a smart guy. Which one do you like?"

"I would rather you just call me Rodri."

"Okay, college student." Batty pretended not to hear. He held out his hand to Rodri again. "That's it. The only one in the city who is going to college, welcome to join us."

(End of this chapter)