[Football] Bad Boy Batty

In the early morning of January 2020, 1, the entry about Neymar winning the Ballon d'Or was still on the hot search list. Batistuta was woken up from his sleep by someone slapping him. As soon as he opened his eyes and hadn't figured out what was going on, he saw that Neymar clearly had no good intentions.

"Hey——" he greeted in a low voice.

"...da puta." Batty cursed hoarsely, then grabbed his phone to check the time. It was 3:33 in the morning, only two hours after he lay down.

"For God's sake, did you come straight from the party?" Batty asked.

"Yes!" Neymar's tone was full of excitement. "Don't you remember? I was waiting for you to jump on me and kiss me to catch my cold. Well, seeing how you sleep, we can skip this step. It's time for the next appointment. Hurry up. I brought the goods. Where's yours?"

"What?" This long string of words quickly made Batistuta's already chaotic brain even more confused. He raised his upper body, rubbed his eyes, opened them and looked at Neymar again, "Has winning the award made you an idiot? I'm still sick, get out!"

"Why are you chasing me away, Batistuta?" Neymar was a little hurt. He pushed Batistuta's blanket to the middle and pretended to squeeze into the bed. "I didn't come back to see you to hear this after staying up all night."

"Hey! Don't make me beat you up!" Barty gritted his teeth and pulled back the quilt. "The newly crowned Golden Globe winner can't just barge into someone's room in the early hours of the morning and suddenly--ugh!"

Neymar shut up the complaining mouth with a kiss.

Fulfilling his dream and winning the Golden Ball gave his adrenaline a surge, and his behavior became reckless. He knew that Batistuta was sleeping at that time, and he also knew that Batistuta was still sick, but the thought of wanting to see him, kiss him, and share happiness with him just popped into his mind.

He didn't know why, but when he walked down the podium to accept his family's blessings and turned around to see the empty seat belonging to Barty, this idea came to him. And from the moment it appeared, he had to realize it, and everything else had to stand aside.

"——Ugh, damn it! Are you crazy!" When feeling Neymar's passionate tongue, Batistuta was fully awake. He pushed Neymar away and turned over to escape to the corner. "You will make yourself sick! Idiot!"

Neymar shrugged.

To be honest, he doesn't care.

It was then that Batistuta noticed that Neymar, who was not far away, had changed out of the suit with hidden diamonds that he wore at the award ceremony, and put on a black woolen hat on his head. He also wore a black windbreaker that reached his ankles and could almost be called a robe, looking like a street vendor selling illegal goods.

"--Are you planning to switch to selling whores?" Batty asked with a fake smile.

"Oh, that's what I wanted to say! Have we agreed on anything?" Neymar opened his coat and took out a black package from it. Then he carefully opened the package and took out - his Golden Ball trophy?
"Look, 2019, Neymar, the real deal!" He held up the Ballon d'Or and ran his finger over the engraved part. "Bati, what about yours?"

Now Batty remembered.
Neymar was talking about their agreement to return the trophy.

"... Is this why you woke me up?" Batty's eyes became increasingly dangerous.

"Yes!" Neymar was not aware of the danger at all. He put his trophy on the bed, then quickly ran to Batistuta's podium (of course he knew where Batistuta's trophies were) and took another trophy into the bedroom.

"In my imagination, there should have been a witness, but—" He stuffed the trophy into Batty's hand, stood face to face with Batty beside the bed, cleared his throat and said, "Now I give you this trophy that represents my love for you. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, I give you everything I have."

My goodness, isn’t this a marriage declaration?

Batistuta held down his restless fist, put on an amused smile, and looked forward to Neymar's next move.

"You have to say it too, Batistuta." Neymar pulled his sleeve, "Read what I just said."

"Okay, I give you this trophy that represents my love for you. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I give you everything I have." Batty slowly repeated this adapted oath in a long voice.

They exchanged trophies.

"Very good." Neymar stood in the middle and changed his voice to pretend to be a priest. "I declare in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit that God will recognize your union and no one can separate it."

"Now, Mr. Neymar," he said to himself in a priestly voice, "you can kiss your lover."

After saying that, he quickly returned to his seat and moved Batistuta into a position suitable for hugging, like playing with a doll, holding the trophy in his left hand and reaching around with his right hand to press on the back of Batistuta's neck.

"Lower your head."

Batistuta subconsciously obeyed his order, and he regretted it in just half a second, but it was useless, Neymar's lips were already on him.

It was a passionate kiss.

But unlike the countless kisses they had received, this one was not spicy at all, and even had a hint of purity. It wasn't just a simple lip-to-lip kiss, it was deeper and harder than that, but inexplicably sacred and solemn.

Jesus is above.
No language in the world can describe Batty's feelings at this moment.

He never thought that his first "wedding" would be held under such circumstances. The venue was the bedroom, he had just woken up, his hair was messy, he had no preparations, and he was probably still running a low-grade fever. Opposite him was a low-level gang member who seemed to be selling goods on the street. There were no family members or friends on both sides, no flower girls, no priests, no rings, and no proposals. He didn't even know anything about it half a minute ago!
Feel--
fantastic.

Batistuta thought about it and thought that maybe this was the reason why he liked Neymar so much, as he never knew what surprises were waiting for him.

Logically, some content that cannot be broadcast should be carried out next, but in the end Batistuta put the brakes on and drove Neymar away on the grounds that he had not recovered from his illness.

When I woke up again, it was already morning.

No one knew it, but Batistuta slept with the Ballon d'Or in his arms for the rest of the day.

After learning the whole story, Qiao Lin first nearly dislocated her jaw, then rolled over on the sofa holding her stomach and laughing: "Oh my God, oh my God! This is a plot that no fan fiction would dare to imagine!"

"Right." Batty shrugged. "Who would have thought he would do this."

"You two are really - oh, my poor brain can't think of a better description!" She sighed, "But it's true, you and Neymar, Pisces and Aquarius, are perfect! No one can play more colorfully than you two, I'm really looking forward to what will happen next!"

……

Next?
What else can happen? They should go back to the game.

Remember, in January and February, there were so many Premier League games that three lineups were not too many.

Manchester City's first game in 2020 was the first leg of the League Cup semi-final. Their opponent was the newly promoted Aston Villa. Batistuta had not recovered from his cold, so he missed the game, but Neymar did not. Although he kissed Batistuta, fortunately he was not infected. He played well and scored two goals to help the team beat the opponent 2-2 and get off to a good start in the new year.

However, the brilliance of the new Ballon d'Or has not overshadowed the charm of another. As one of the fastest growing English local stars in value this season, the Villa captain has been linked with many teams, and most fans believe that he will definitely go to a top team next season.

But none of this has anything to do with Batty.
He can influence the team's purchasing plan, but he rarely does so, and no matter who comes or goes, it will not affect his playing time.

……

Batistuta returned to action half a month later, and coincidentally, his first game back was the second leg of the League Cup semi-final against Villa. This time, Neymar was unable to start the game. In a recent training session, he had a slight muscle problem. In order to save his strength for the upcoming Champions League round of 16, he temporarily wore an orange vest and sat on the bench.

Replacing him in the starting lineup was Phil Foden.

This season, Foden started in 7 Premier League games, 2 Champions League games, and 4 League Cup games. He filled the vacancy left by Sterling very well. When Neymar was resting and unable to play, he repaid the head coach's trust with practical actions.

Of course, Phil Foden can play not only on the left side, but also in many positions, such as attacking midfielder and midfielder, and he even plays well as a right winger.

Now he is almost a member of the first team, although he was counted in the U21 list during registration and signed a youth player contract with the club, but those did not affect everyone's acceptance of him.

"You can do it, Phil, just follow me." In the player tunnel at Villa's home stadium, Batistuta was instructing Foden to do a hand dance.

"Like this?" Foden deliberately made a wrong move.

"No, are you stupid?" Batty rolled his eyes slightly and leaned over to teach him step by step, "Come on, everyone has (movement), you can't fall behind."

Foden is certainly no fool.

It only took him two tries to remember all the moves Batty designed for him, but if he didn't act a little stupid, it would be difficult for him to get such a chance to get close to the opponent.

In fact, Foden is a little unhappy this season.

Obviously, he had known Batistuta for a long time and had been training with the first team since 18, but their relationship did not make any progress. He had to watch many newcomers gradually gain a foothold around Batistuta.

And he didn't even get a "Well done Phil! I'm so happy for you!".

"Don't be distracted." Batty patted Foden on the head. "We'll practice the hand gesture later. The game is coming soon. Cheer up."

"Yeah," Foden responded, then he looked up, "Uh, captain?"

"what happened?"

"I've almost memorized this sign," he said. "If I score a goal today, can you come and celebrate with me using this?"

"Of course." Batistuta smiled, "If you can score a goal, you can celebrate however you want."

……

But today they are going to be disappointed.

No matter how hard the team charged forward, the defense made repeated mistakes. Stones, who had just returned from injury, was in poor form. He was injured again after receiving a yellow card. Otamendi also punched out (ruby card) after giving Villa two penalties.

维拉队长闪耀全场，2个进球1个助攻帮助球队主场3-0，两回合最比分3-2逆转晋级联赛杯决赛。

What the hell.

After the final whistle, Batistuta bent over and supported his knees to recover his breath. It was so embarrassing that last season's treble winner was reversed by a team that had just been promoted to the Premier League. And the captain of Villa with a difficult name would be worth more after this game, he thought.

To be honest, that guy was fighting hard on the court.

Batistuta recalled the situation in the game just now. He was dribbling the ball on the wing, and that guy chased him all the way back from the frontcourt and managed to steal the ball with his physical fitness and the double-team of his teammates.

And those calves are just outrageous.
Starting fitness from birth may not necessarily achieve that effect.

"Hi!"

Just as he was thinking about it, a shadow appeared in front of Batty.
He looked up and saw the much-anticipated Villa captain in front of him.

"What do you want?" Batty stood up and asked in a not very friendly tone.

“▓▓▓▓▓, ▓▓? ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓.” The guy said with a very cheerful grin, “▓▓▓▓▓?” *Note 1
"——Huh?" A circle of question marks appeared above Batty's head. He didn't understand a word. "What are you talking about? Can you straighten your tongue?"

The Villa captain was a little frustrated. He wrinkled his nose and raised his hand to play with his hair, as if thinking of a solution. For some reason, Batistuta seemed to see the look on his face when the computer got stuck.

"Ah!" The Villa captain snapped his fingers and his smile became even brighter. He grabbed the collar and took off the jersey, then handed it over.

Tsk tsk.
It's just a change of jersey, why spend so much time thinking about it?

"Okay, change." Batty raised an eyebrow, grabbed the bottom of the shirt and threw it to the other party, "Remember to find a translator next time, otherwise just use gestures."

The Villa captain could understand what Batistuta said. He smiled a little embarrassedly, and then to show his friendliness, he directly put on Batistuta's jersey and raised two thumbs in front of his chest.

Batty: ...
How come he looks even dumber than Luki?

"You played well, congratulations on your promotion." He took the jersey he had exchanged for, patted the Villa captain's arm, smiled very officially, turned around and walked towards the player tunnel, "See you later."

There are even more difficult reporters waiting for him.

"Oh, he still doesn't seem to know my name." The Villa captain, wearing Manchester City's No. 9 jersey, stared blankly at Batistuta's back for a while, then shook his hair and turned around to celebrate his promotion with his teammates and fans on the scene.

Never mind, he'll find out one day.

And just as he turned around, the King of Manchester City picked up his jersey to check it.

Jack Grealish, Batistuta read the name printed on his jersey, good, he remembered him.

(End of this chapter)