[Football] Bad Boy Batty

After the narrow defeat to Tottenham, Manchester City regained their spirits and prepared for the upcoming 3rd round of the Champions League group stage. In this round, they will go to Catalonia, Spain, to challenge the top club Barcelona away.

For many people, this is a game of returning to old places and meeting old friends.

Before the game, Guardiola made careful arrangements. The playing style was different from the previous games. He hoped that his players could play a fierce game, play out without defending, and both the midfield and the defense should do their best to create opportunities for the front court and score goals.

The physical strength of players fighting on four fronts is indeed a problem (Premier League, Champions League, FA Cup, League Cup) but fortunately, Guardiola's midfielder De Bruyne returned from injury the day before they left for the plane.

The team doctor and he himself have repeatedly confirmed with the head coach that his body has recovered and he is fully capable of taking on important responsibilities again.

The main lineup is basically determined and the defense line remains unchanged. Although there were frequent mistakes in the match against Tottenham, Guardiola still chose to believe in them and did not take anyone off the starter (in fact, no one could be replaced).

The biggest change was in the midfield, where the Brazilian duo Fernandinho and Fernando, who had worked well together, were both replaced. It was not because their mistakes were so unbearable, but because of the need for rotation.
German Gundogan started the game, Silva returned to the wing, and De Bruyne was in the middle.

The frontcourt still has a familiar configuration, with Sterling as left winger, Batistuta as right winger, and Aguero at the front.

"We must seize the opportunity! I'm talking about the players in the midfield and backcourt, Gundogan, Silva, Stones, don't be stingy with your ruthlessness! We are going to face Barcelona! It's MSN! If we can't make the most of our passing and control, they will destroy us!"

"Bati, Akun, Sterling in the frontcourt! You need to run. Off-ball running will be very important for us. You need to retreat and assist in defense when necessary. I don't need to emphasize too much how terrifying Messi is."

The pre-match meeting ended with the entire locker room shouting "Beat them" enthusiastically. They will fly to Barcelona tomorrow. Guardiola did not arrange any activities in the afternoon, but just let the players go home and get enough rest.

Before leaving the club, Aguero grabbed Batistuta's arm.

"You can't take it lightly this time. Leo is really strong. He and I have been training together since we were young, and I know it very well." He said, "So, when I tell you to go back to defense with me, don't stay in the front court. We have to create opportunities together."

"I have never been careless, babe." Batistuta raised an eyebrow at him. "It's true that I have never played against Messi, but do you really need so many people to return to defense to stop the little flea?"

Aguero was so shocked by Batistuta's sudden affectionate address that he didn't even bother to answer the question. "Why are you suddenly so cheesy?"

"Isn't this a habit of you Argentines? I changed it especially for you." Batistuta stopped and said, "Don't you like it?"

"...Where did you hear this weird habit?" The Argentine striker shuddered. "Isn't it nice to call me A Kun? However, if you want to be more intimate, you can use Papi, which is equivalent to baby or dude in our place."

ha?
Papi?

Batty blinked his blue eyes. Is this the cultural difference?

"I can call you Papi, but I've never called anyone that before. Of course, I'm willing to do that for you, my future best partner in the world," the boy said, trying not to laugh.

"Then I'll practice it now." He cleared his throat, then lowered his voice and said in a very ambiguous tone: "I hope you have a good time tonight, Papi."

Aguero shuddered subconsciously, and his face turned red instantly.
"Why are you flirting with me all of a sudden!"

"Did I?" Batistuta asked in a confused tone. He thought Aguero's panic was very funny. "Didn't you tell me to say that? In our place, Papi means daddy, and it's used for flirting."

"No! Don't lie to me!" Aguero's eyes widened. "It's not like there are no Brazilians in the team. If Pa is used for flirting, how could I not know?"

"Oh, you mean Pa, that has a different meaning from Papi."

Batty narrowed his eyes in a smile, revealing a few sharp fangs at the corners of his lips.

"O Pá is the normal way to greet friends, equivalent to Hey men." He explained, "If you say to a Brazilian: Hi, Papi, do you want to play with me tonight? He will naturally think that you are inviting him to a short two-person sport, of course, in bed."

Aguero's face turned red and pink, and finally he patted his cheeks with both hands to cool down and regain some of his sanity.

"Forget it, I don't care, do as you please." He said in self-abandonment, "Language is really troublesome, call me whatever you want, as long as you can understand me, it's fine."

Batty was waiting for him to say this.

"Okay, then I'll call you daddy from now on, how about that?"

“Ahhh no!” Aguero collapsed and rushed to the door, “Let me go!”

Batty, who had succeeded in his plan, burst into laughter and followed him. The two of them made a fuss all the way to the parking lot, and they didn't stop until Loach started the car and reminded Batty that it was time to go home.

Naturally, the most important question about "assisting Messi" was forgotten.

……

That night, Batistuta lay in bed, constantly imagining himself scoring a goal at the Camp Nou. Not only did he want to score a goal, he also wanted to score in front of Neymar and Messi. Everyone would worship him, and he would be the well-deserved best in the world.

then--

Batty was having trouble sleeping.

"So that's why you called me so late at night?"

Edson rubbed his eyes, which were almost as bright as those of a giant panda, and tried to make the light of his phone screen a little dimmer. He said resentfully.

"No." Batty refused to tell the truth, "I just want to find someone to talk to."

"Then why don't you ask Neymar?"

"...Why do you have so many?"

"Okay, I understand you. It's normal to be nervous when the team plays Barcelona," Ederson said. "I was also nervous the first time I started in the Champions League. I almost didn't sleep the night before."

"I told you I'm not nervous." Batty tapped the screen unhappily. "You don't like listening to me? Fine, I'll go find someone else."

"No, no, I don't dislike it." Edson yawned, sat up resignedly, and then wrapped his head with the quilt. "Since you said you are not nervous--"

"Of course I'm not nervous!"

"Okay, you're not nervous at all." Ederson thought, he was obviously quite irritable, but why did his temper disappear automatically when facing Batty? "What do you want to talk about?"

Batty thought for a moment. "Let's talk about you."

"Me?" Edson was a little surprised. "What do you want to know about me?"

"Your team, your life, whatever." Batistuta waved his hand. "Benfica just finished the Champions League, right? You were in the starting lineup, how do you feel?"

To be honest, Ederson is not sleepy anymore.

"It was pretty good!" said the budding Brazilian goalkeeper. "I wasn't originally the starting goalkeeper, but Cesar was playing so badly that the coach gave me the starting spot, and guess what? I completely dominated the game!"

Ederson talked excitedly, from getting the starting position to keeping a clean sheet in the league.

Batistuta was happy for him. "Maybe we will meet Benfica and Manchester City in the Champions League," he said, "of course, if you can qualify from the group stage."

"Ha! That's too arrogant!" Ederson laughed and retorted, "Neuer led Schalke 04 all the way to the semi-finals. I think I can do it too."

Batistuta poked the screen: "The semi-finals are not enough, you have to take Benfica to the final, and then I will tell you what is a truly unstoppable shot."

The two looked at each other and laughed at the same time.

"By the way, Batistuta, I seemed to see on the news that you were fined. What happened?" Ederson asked.

I get angry when I talk about Batty.

"They said I damaged the turf," he said angrily. "I just pulled out two blades of grass because I was upset that the equalizer was ruled offside, but the ticket said it was as if I had shoveled up the entire turf."

"So you finally paid the fine?"

"Yes. But the club paid for me. I can't go there." Batty frowned. "If I go, I will definitely bargain. You know, I learned all my skills from Bloodhound."

"so?"

"So there is no trick in short." Batty said seriously, "All it takes is a gun and a dozen minions to make the deal, not including the machine gunners outside."

The corners of Ederson's mouth twitched. He really couldn't imagine Batistuta coming to the club to negotiate like a gangster with guns and henchmen.

So he changed the subject again: "And Rothschild, I heard they are going to buy Manchester United, and one of them has joined the youth training. The newspapers say it's related to you."

"I don't know if the acquisition of Manchester United has anything to do with me, but I have indeed met a Rothschild." Batistuta changed his posture and lay on the pillow. In the camera, you can see him with his two feet raised. He said with disdain: "That guy is a psychopath. He'd better pass the test and join the Manchester United first team. I will make him look bad in the city derby!"

Speaking of derby, Batistuta thought of the next game against Manchester United, which would be around Christmas, so he asked, "Do you want to come and play?"

"What?" Edson didn't expect this.

"You have a holiday on Christmas, right? But the Premier League doesn't. Here Christmas is celebrated with games. I don't know what the British think." Batistuta was a little dissatisfied, but it only lasted for a moment and passed quickly.

"You know my godfather gave me a whole building, right?" he said. "Now I live on the top floor, and the floor below is empty. If you come, I can make a house for you to live in."

Find a house for him to live in.

Edson's eyes widened in shock.

"Will you," he asked, "make a room for me?"

"It's not one room, it's the whole floor." Batty corrected his mistake, "It's about 4 to 5 square meters. If you are sure you want to come, then I should hire someone to clean it up now."

He paused and asked, "So are you coming or not?"

"Come on!" Edson jumped up from the bed. "I'll come to see you as soon as the holiday comes. I - by the way, can I bring a friend?"

"Of course." Barty smiled. "You can bring whoever you want. The more the better. If they are beautiful women, it will be even better. We can party all night long, and I can go home and relax after the game. It won't waste any time at all."

"Great!" Edson threw the quilt into the air, "Then I can look forward to Christmas!"

……

The two chatted until dawn. Ederson couldn't stand it anymore, so Batistuta was kind enough to let him go back to sleep.

Having almost no sleep all night and his special ability to get up at the time he said, he fell asleep on the plane the next day. Loach had not yet obtained his nutritionist qualification certificate, but with Guardiola's tacit approval, he still got on the plane with the team.

Aguero was determined to stay away from Batistuta because of the 'daddy' incident. Jesus sat with Fernando again, and Alandes had to discuss training issues with the team, so Batistuta took Loach to the last row and lay down. When he closed his eyes, the plane had not left Manchester yet, and when he opened them again, he had arrived in Barcelona.

Batty was sleeping soundly and was staggering when he got off the plane. His hair was almost blown away, with a few strands of hair standing up on top.

De Bruyne passed by him and couldn't help but rub the light-skinned head.

Batty frowned and looked over with red eyes, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." The Belgian midfielder said in a serious tone, "A few strands of your hair are flying up. I'll help you get them down."

When you are severely sleep deprived, your brain will function more slowly. The boy, who usually gets angry at the slightest provocation, easily believed what he said and even said thank you with gratitude.

De Bruyne stood behind Batistuta and couldn't help laughing at the tufts of hair still sticking up on the back of his future roommate's head.

It's so cute.

……

The air-conditioning on the bus from the airport to the hotel was very strong. It took only 5 minutes for Batty to wake up. Soon they arrived at the hotel. It was very luxurious and glittering at first glance, like a palace. Batty guessed that it had at least 4 stars.

There were some loyal fans waiting outside the hotel, and Batistuta signed autographs for several people holding his jerseys. When he went in, the check-in procedures had been completed, and Arteta was handing out door cards to the players, who took the elevator upstairs together.

etc--

"Aren't we going to divide the rooms? Why are you all leaving?" Batty asked. Then when he saw Loach following Alandes and going upstairs, he was confused. "Where are you going, Loach? Your boss is here."

The black boy turned his head and smiled at him, showing his big white teeth. "I'm not wrong, Batty." He said, "The gentleman has already arranged the room. I'm with Alan."

Arandez smirked back and waved.

Batty: ?
"When did this happen? How come I don't know about it?" he asked with a frown. Then Aguero also got the room card. He and Silva shared the room. "What's going on? What should I do? Should I live alone?"

"Do not."

Someone patted Batistuta on the shoulder from behind. He turned around and saw De Bruyne, the Belgian who looked asexual but was actually irritable, often turned into a stress monster on the court and had just touched his hair, standing there.

"Hello, roommate."

Batty: ...

"I don't even know English very well, so there's no way I can live with him." He frowned and said to Arteta, "When did you decide? I don't know at all, and I don't have the chance to choose my roommate. I have to choose again."

Arteta was a little embarrassed and spread his hands to indicate that this was not his decision.

"So..." Batty looked at De Bruyne again, "Do you have any objection to this?"

"No." The Belgian, who also speaks some Portuguese, shrugged and said, "I'd really like to live with you."

This really surprised Batty.

But before he could say anything, Guardiola finally finished his work and came to the lobby. He only took a few glances and immediately guessed what happened. The Catalan held back his laughter and cleared his throat, saying to Batistuta: "You picked the room yourself. On the plane, I asked many times if anyone wanted to change, but you didn't say anything at the time, Batistuta."

"Of course I couldn't talk, I was still sleeping at that time." Batty said in disbelief, "And you just decided like that, without considering me?"

Guardiola shook his head: "No, you are wrong. I have repeatedly asked you what you think, and so has I. It was you who chose Kevin De Bruyne. I have a video here. Do you want to see it?"

The head coach took out his phone and played a video for Batistuta. In the video, the young man was sleeping in the last row, and there were red marks on his face when he woke up. Under his guidance, it was indeed as he said that he had chosen the Belgian as his roommate.

Batty: ...

He had no impression of this at all.

Seeing the kind eyes of the head coach, the teenagers took a deep breath and said, "I don't care. You should at least arrange for players who speak similar languages ​​to live together. My English is not proficient enough to communicate with him without any obstacles."

"It's like this, Batistuta," Guardiola said. "You know, in the match against Barcelona the day after tomorrow morning, Kevin's operation in the middle is crucial. At the same time, his connection with you may be the key to our victory."

Now Batty understood.

It was completely arranged that he and De Bruyne would be assigned to a room in order to develop tacit understanding and it was a tactical necessity.

Batty glanced again at the Belgian who resembled the cartoon character Tintin.

Okay, that's not unbearable.

Guardiola hooked his arm around his neck intimately and ruffled his light-colored hair. "Kevin is a very nice guy. You will know if you spend more time with him. He is just indifferent to people he is not familiar with." The head coach said, "I have a feeling that there will be a wonderful chemical reaction between you two, which will help us win the game in the end."

Batty stared at the ground for a while, then raised his neck and shook his hair. He said, "I know. I will be nicer to him."

As he spoke, he took the room card from Arteta, then packed his suitcase under everyone's gaze, turned around and walked towards the elevator. Halfway there, he realized something was wrong, so he stopped and turned his head.

"What are you waiting for?" he said to De Bruyne, "Let's go, keep up."

……

Everyone had half an hour to rest. After entering the room, Batti put the suitcase aside and jumped directly onto the bed by the window to try to fall asleep.

He buried his face in the soft quilt, but his brain was unruly and unusually awake.

Five minutes later, Batistuta, who couldn't sleep, simply sat up. He leaned lazily against the head of the bed, put one leg on the windowsill, and then looked at De Bruyne who was busy packing boxes without any concealment.

"Aren't you tired?" he asked.

"What?" De Bruyne took the lotion out of the box and looked up at Batistuta.

"I said..." Batty thought for a moment and said in the simplest English: "You know we are only here for one game and two days, right?"

De Bruyne understood what he meant and smiled. "I know, but I like everything to be in order."

Batti said he couldn't understand it. To him, the suitcases were placed on the ground in an orderly manner. He could just look for what he needed inside. It was not troublesome at all.

Another five minutes later, De Bruyne finished packing his box.

The Belgian took out a black bag, which was bulging with things.

He sat down at the head of the bed holding the bag, then waved mysteriously at Batty: "I brought some good stuff, from Italy."

The boy's curiosity was aroused. "What is it?"

"That's it..." The Belgian smiled, reached into the bag, and moved slowly. Then suddenly, he pulled out a strip from the bag and threw it into Batty's arms, "Here you go."

Is that a long sausage with both ends sealed?

But unlike regular sausages, this one is dark brown and has little bumps on it.

"Italian chocolate sausage?" The boy held it in his hand with surprise. "This is my favorite. Where did you get it from?"

"My house." De Bruyne took out the knife again, "I have to state in advance that I didn't know you liked it before today."

He handed the knife to Batty and asked him to cut the chocolate sausage. "My father is a businessman and often travels around the world. I fell in love with it since he gave it to me when I was 10 years old."

Batty didn't understand the long sentence, but that didn't affect his enthusiasm for the chocolate sausage.

The two of them cut it into pieces with a knife, and the aroma of chocolate, hazelnuts, and rum immediately filled the whole room.

After stuffing two pieces into his mouth, Batty licked his fingers and said tentatively: "This thing is very high in calories. The coach clearly stated that we can't eat it."

"I know," De Bruyne shrugged. "But I just want to eat."

Batty snickered.

The test was successful. It seems that this Belgian with a sexually apathetic face is not the type of obedient boy.

"Now you eat it too," De Bruyne added, cutting off a large piece and eating it, "If you tell on us, we'll both be finished."

Batistuta didn't say anything. He patted the residue on his hands, stood up and walked in front of De Bruyne. A shadow fell on the Belgian, and the Belgian was a little confused about the situation.

"What are you going to, uh, do?"

Batty curled the corners of his mouth, leaned over, broke off a piece of chocolate from his mouth, and then threw it into his own mouth in the other's surprised eyes.

"Of course I won't be a traitor." The boy smiled like a cat stealing snacks, "We are on the same boat."

...In the afternoon, Guardiola took his players to the Nou Camp to walk on the grass and conduct regular training there, which was a wonderful experience for him.

Manchester City is developing in a good direction under him, and although the outside world has been calling them Barcelona 3.0 (2.0 is Bayern) or the new Barcelona, ​​he knows in his heart that it is not. He can't bring out the same team again, and it is impossible to replicate the Barcelona at that time.

But that doesn't mean he has lost his fighting spirit. Manchester City will not be Barcelona. They will take a completely different path.

Guardiola's thoughts flew far and wide until a ball hit his arm, and then he got out of the vortex. Turning his head, he saw a rebellious Brazilian boy standing on a football, looking up at him and giving him a thumbs-up. The next second, the thumbs-up turned downward.

"What's wrong, coach? Are you lost in the past?" Batty joked loudly, "Don't worry, I will let you experience the feeling of being on the altar again, just wait and see!"

After saying that, Batistuta picked up the football, bounced it a few times with his toes, lifted it into the air, and then shot it with great force.

Guardiola's eyes followed the ball. The white ball drew a strange and beautiful arc in the air and finally flew into the farthest goal in the entire stadium.

"Yeah! The ball went in!"

Facing the empty stands, Batty walked around with his arms open, like a saint receiving worship.

A group of top league players were as happy as street kids at this moment. They surrounded Batistuta, jumped and cheered, and then lined up and raised their hands to form an arch for him.

This is a small game among the players, and is also the highest honor given to teammates who 'win' in training.

Standing in the center of the stadium where he once played, looking at the new team full of vitality, Guardiola suddenly regained the feeling he had lost.

He quickly simulated the sandbox of the court in his mind - the wingers frequently went down the bottom to pull the defense line, and the back waist followed closely and used the gaps in the ribs to go deep into the hinterland...

At this time, Guardiola was no longer thinking about Puyol, Xavi, Iniesta, and Messi, but a group of guys wearing blue jerseys.

The head coach looked over there and saw the most dazzling child among the group. His future achievements would be higher than all of them.

Yes, Batistuta will be the key to this team.

He always believed it.

……

It was already evening when they returned to the hotel. The team had dinner in the restaurant together. Batistuta once again showed his worrying willfulness. After a tiring day, he refused to eat anything.

"Come on, we're not playing at night, and eating less potatoes won't make me lose my strength." He used a fork to pick up the mashed potatoes a few times and then pushed them aside. Loach came over again, and Batty immediately pointed his fork at him, "No one will help you this time, don't even think about succeeding!"

"No, Batistuta, you're here to play in Barcelona," said Loach, setting the plate and adding some carrots. "Eat them and don't make me go find the gentleman."

Batty's eyes widened: "Okay, loach, now you can use the head coach to put pressure on me!"

"You forced me to do this." Loach said, "I will be your nutritionist soon, you have to obey me."

"Come on." Barty snapped his fingers. "You're going to make me do things I don't want to do. I want to call you mom again."

At this time, Arandez came over with a plate. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Oh, Alan, you're just in time." Loach turned around and said, "Hurry up and explain your sports science and life rules to him, he won't eat again."

Arandez didn't seem to understand what he meant.

Batty stuck out his tongue and said indifferently: "My stomach just doesn't feel hungry, no matter what anyone says."

Loach gave up explaining to Alandes. Whenever faced with the issue of eating, he would completely forget Batistuta's identity as the boss.

"I'm going to call the gentleman over!"

Batty made a face at his friend again, "Humph, you don't need to come, I can talk to the coach myself."

After that, he quickly raised his arms and shouted towards the coach's table: "Coach, I don't want to eat dinner, can I go out for a walk?"

His voice was so loud that the whole floor could hear it.

The loach stamped his feet in anger.

Guardiola was stunned for a moment, but he soon realized that it was Batistuta, the 'big baby', who had just called him, so he wiped his mouth and stood up.

"No problem, Batistuta, if you don't want to eat, just leave." The head coach said generously, "You can leave the hotel, but don't go too far away. Come back before 11pm. I will organize a room check."

Buddy grinned, and Loach couldn't believe it.

"Sir! But he——"

"It's okay. He has his own mouth. He will eat when he's hungry." Guardiola waved his hand to comfort the loach. "Don't worry, our future nutritionist will be fine."

After the head coach said this, Loach shut up and looked at Batty with a reproachful look.

Batty didn't feel sorry at all. He raised his chin and walked out of the restaurant with his head held high like a winner.

……

Barcelona's autumn and winter sunsets are very early, and before 8 o'clock, the sky is already full of stars. Batistuta abandoned the loach (he wanted him to eat carrots!) and dragged Aguero to the street. Together with them, there was De Bruyne, who was officially accepted by Batistuta after sharing the banned snacks.

"Let's go to the best nightclub in Barcelona!" Batistuta took out his fake ID and walked forward with the two of them. "We are going to have some fun today."

Aguero stopped him and threw cold water on him.

"I haven't been here for a long time, Batistuta, and I can't show you around," he said. "Besides, this is Catalonia, and people speak dialect. If we don't have someone to guide us, we will be kicked out of bars and nightclubs."

Batistuta didn't believe that there would be a night club that would kick him out, but since Aguero thought so -

"Then call Messi out. He has lived here for many years, so he will definitely understand and be able to speak a little bit."

Aguero just shook his head.

"No," he said, "that would ruin my luck."

Ruining your luck?

Batty frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It's just bad luck," Aguero said seriously. "Friends from different teams can't meet before the game. If they meet before 363 minutes before the game, something unexpected will happen. Leo and I have tried it before, and the earliest one dates back to the 08 Beijing Olympics - well, it's still very accurate."

what!
That time still has zeros and integers.

"You can't be serious, Kun, you really believe this?" Batty asked with a sneer.

"Of course." Aguero crossed his arms. "You should believe it too."

"Hiss..." Batty shrugged, then pulled De Bruyne over and whispered to him, "Akun doesn't want Messi to play with us, and even made up a reason for it, saying that a pre-match meeting would bring bad luck - haha, do you believe it?"

"I've heard of what he said before." De Bruyne cleared his throat. "It's similar to - some people have to touch the grass before going on the field, and some people have to kiss their tattoos. These are all superstitious things."

"Almost." Aguero nodded, "But you'd better believe it. Otherwise, what if something goes wrong during the game?"

Batty looked like someone who had a mouthful of chopped ginger.

"I just don't believe it." He took out his cell phone and said, "I'm going to call Neymar and ask him to come out. Let's see who will be unlucky then."

……

As a result, Neymar was unable to come. His car broke down on the way. When he called the towing company, he was recognized by a group of fans and surrounded on the roadside. Now he was reported in the local evening paper, so there was no way he could make it.

"Now you believe it," Aguero said.

The three of them were about to return to the hotel after a boring night trip.

"No." Batistuta said as he ate the seafood rice he bought from a roadside Chinese stall. "I haven't even met Neymar yet, and car breakdowns are common. It's no big deal—"

However, before he could finish his words, the situation happened again.

The Catalan flag hanging on the street lamp fell down somehow, and the top hit Batistuta squarely on the head. The light-haired boy was startled and subconsciously jumped to the side, but he held the paella firmly in his hand, and not a single grain of rice was spilled during the whole process.

"-God, Barty, how are you?"

Batistuta was still in shock. He looked at the Catalan flag, which De Bruyne picked up and found rags stuffed inside.

"How are you?" the Belgian midfielder asked again.
Batty stared at the flag.

"Not good! What the hell—"

He emphasized every syllable, and it was obvious that this thing frightened him more than it hurt him.

Aguero: "See, what I said, it will be bad luck."

……

Barty was still upset about this incident until the next day's game.

Guardiola didn't emphasize the game too much. After saying something like "pay attention to physical confrontation", the players walked out of the locker room.

Batistuta also followed the team to the player tunnel. This was his first time to step into the home stadium of a European league team. Unlike the Premier League, Barcelona's tunnel is a long staircase surrounded by red and blue. Compared with the exquisite and modern Etihad Stadium, it is more like a street and happier.

There are murals on the walls of the passage, all of which are Barcelona legends, such as Cruyff, Rivaldo, Henry, and - damn, Ronaldinho.

Batistuta passed the man with disdain, quickened his pace and walked down a few more steps. When he stopped, the person next to him was none other than Messi, the current king of Barcelona.

Running his finger over the portrait, he remembered what the head coach had repeatedly emphasized to him - he was the most talented player he had ever seen since Messi.

So--

I can't let the head coach down, Batistuta thought.

Listening to the deafening Barcelona team song outside, his heartbeat slowly quickened.

However, all this came to an abrupt end when Neymar waved at him.

"Hey! Batty, over here!"

Batistuta recalled the outrageous experience of last night and walked towards Neymar angrily.

"You know, Ney, last night I was hit on the head by a Catalan flag on the roadside because I wanted to see you." He complained, "It's all Aguero's fault. He told me that if we met before the game, something bad would happen. If he didn't say it, maybe your car wouldn't break down, and I wouldn't be hit on the head."

This is how Batty rejoices at a reunion: by becoming talkative and childish.

Neymar suppressed the corners of his mouth that were curled up. "What do you mean by bad luck because you wanted to see me?" He asked knowingly.

"Literally." Batistuta was filled with righteous indignation. "I don't care. After the game today, I want you to take me out to play. We are going to visit all the nightclubs in Barcelona!"

It is at this time that he will act like a 17-year-old boy.

Neymar lowered his head and smiled. "Okay, I'll take you out to play after the game."

[Hey! I finally meet your sweet boyfriend! I have to give him a few more kisses, and then take him to a place where no one is around to spend some quality time with him.]

It was Pique, the Barcelona defender who came down with a lot of teasing. He jumped between the two of them, used his height to separate Neymar, and then grabbed Batistuta's hand and shook it enthusiastically.

"Hello, I'm Gerard Pique, the person who will be mainly responsible for marking you today."

Batistuta couldn't understand the Catalan dialect he spoke, so he just took it as a normal welcome. He smiled at Pique and said "thank you" in Spanish.

The tall guard showed a surprised expression, then burst into laughter, revealing two rows of big white teeth.

"He speaks Spanish so softly! Did you hear that, Ney?" Pique said to Neymar and went back to look at Batistuta. This time he switched to standard Spanish: "Nice to see you. You look better than in the videos and photos, and your lips are more——"

"enough!"

Neymar angrily grabbed Pique and dragged him to the corner, then pointed at his nose and said: "I warn you, Gerrard, stay away from him, he is not yet an adult!"

"What's the matter? I'm just talking to him. Are you afraid that I'll hurt him?" Pique shrugged nonchalantly and glanced at Batty. "But his body looks easy to break. I mean - break."

This guy really has a mind full of improprieties.

Neymar kicked Pique in the shin.

"Be careful! I'm wearing shin guards, you can't get hurt." Pique said in a mean way.

Suddenly, he grabbed Neymar's jersey and whispered in his ear, "I've read the fan fiction online about you and him. It's very hot. You should try it."

evil!
Neymar made the same expression as Nick Young.

"Can you think of something normal? Batistuta is very strong, don't underestimate him." Neymar rolled his eyes at him, "Be careful, he'll dribble you through the net when he gets on the field!"

Pique waved his hand.

"No way. I didn't pay for La Liga tuition for so many years in vain." He said, "I'm serious, my friend, there are a few places in Camp Nou that no one goes to. You can take him there after the game, just like in the novels, throw him into the basket, then grab his ankles, move up, take off his socks, and then-"

"Stop, stop, stop!" Neymar's face flushed instantly, and he sternly stopped Pique, "Stop your bad thoughts, we are not that kind of relationship."

"Oh, that kind of relationship." Pique had a meaningful expression.

Neymar gave up resistance.

The more and bigger the reactions you give Pique, the more excited he gets.

"Whatever you think." Neymar waved his hand like he was shooing away a fly. "Go ahead, you should stand in front."

"Hehe, are you angry?"

Pique smiled and poked Neymar with his finger, then said in a long tone: "Oh, little Batistuta is so good-looking, it would be a pity not to play with him. If - you don't want to come, how about I go?"

A bunch of hashtags appeared on Neymar's forehead.

This is unbearable!

"You shameless, filthy, despicable fellow!"

Seeing that Neymar was about to get angry, the Barcelona defender laughed and ran forward. Neymar chased after him, determined to hit the man in the face a few times before the start of the game.

Batistuta, who was left aside, crossed his arms and looked at Pique and Neymar, who were first whispering, then fighting, then whispering again, and then continuing to chase. He looked thoughtful.

Could it be——

What's going on between them?
"Hey! Barty!"

Aguero's voice came from behind, Batistuta turned around, and the next second, a hand reached out and pinched his left cheek. Batistuta trembled his eyebrows and subconsciously slapped the hand away.

When he finished this action, he saw clearly that what he had just slapped away was actually Messi's hand.

"Yeah, it's a bit fierce."

The King of Barcelona looked at Batistuta, smiled gently and stretched out his hand: "Hello, Batistuta, I have heard of you for a long time, and finally met you today. I am Lionel Messi, you can call me Leo."

This feels weird.

Batistuta shook Messi's hand doubtfully, then looked at Aguero.

Aguero was laughing brighter than the sun. He winked at Batistuta, then hooked his arms around Messi's neck and rested his chin on his shoulder.

The two looked at each other and smiled.

"See, I told you his face is easy to pinch."

……

The game was about to begin soon. The players from both teams stood in line and walked onto the court under the guidance of the referee.

The opening of the Champions League is more complicated than that of the league. The Champions League logo is displayed, the Champions League theme song is played, the captains of both teams choose sides, take photos with the referee, and -

Handshake.

According to regulations, players from the visiting team should take the initiative to shake hands with the home team.

So under the leadership of Sabalete (acting captain), the Manchester City players shook hands with the Barcelona players one by one.

Pique was the first one to pinch Batistuta's palm and wink at him. Batistuta didn't understand why, but the other party's pinch really made him feel itchy, so he rolled his eyes at Pique without disguising.

"puff!"

Busquets happened to see this scene and couldn't help laughing out loud.

After Batistuta left, he touched Pique's shoulder.

"I never thought that a day like this would come for you, your big mouth. How does it feel to be rolled eyes by a kid?"

Pike muttered a few words and said nothing more.

The handshake over there finally came to an end. Messi held Aguero tightly and Neymar saw this and simply stepped over and gave Batistuta a hug.

"Go for the game," he said, "but you may not be able to celebrate your goal, we will kill the game at home."

Batty gave him a flamboyant smile in return.

"You too." He said, "We've got these three points."

(End of this chapter)