[Football] Bad Boy Batty

[Short flowering period per capita? Brazilian star Batistuta lost his first match after his comeback, the King's glory is gone] - Daily Mail (Sports Section)

Batty swung the newspaper in his hand, deliberately making a rustling sound, then folded it up and stuffed it under his butt with great disdain.

"Rubbish," he commented.

"Yeah, it's garbage!" Lucas agreed. "Who brought this thing on a plane? It's 2019. Who uses this to read the news?"

"It's me." Walker in the back row raised his hand. He was reading Page 3 of The Sun on his tablet. He didn't even raise his eyes when he spoke. "When I bought potato pancakes, there happened to be a newspaper stop next to me. It was in the most conspicuous position. I saw Batty's face right away, so -" He spread his hands, "Why not?"

"Thank you, Kyle. If it weren't for your newspaper, I wouldn't know how ugly I looked when I was frustrated after losing the game." Batty turned around and gave Walker a fake smile and a thumbs-up. "Well done. Tonight I will prove to them whether the blooming period of Brazilian stars is short or not."

"You're welcome." Walker still didn't look up.

Batistuta didn't care about his naughty behavior, but Lucas was not very happy. He picked up the almost empty water bottle in front of him and threw it at Walker. Walker was hit on the head. Just as he was about to glare at Lucas and talk, Stones next to him held his shoulder and then shook his head.

Walker gave up on picking on Lucas, but didn't forget to raise his two middle fingers, and Lucas responded with a tongue-out face.

"Hey!" Walker gasped, grabbing Stones' arm in disbelief, "Did you see that? He challenged me!"

"Yes, I saw it."

"Any good suggestions, Mr. Stones?"

"My advice is to keep your butts on the chair. If you make a scene, Batistuta will not side with you. You will get hit and then Pep will get mad, he is already upset because Mikel decided to leave and we are on a plane to Madrid to face Real Madrid tonight. It is not a good time at all."

Walker is not someone who is willing to listen to advice, unless the person who is advising him is called John Stones and what he says makes some sense.

"Okay!" The England defender raised his hands to make a truce gesture. "This is fucking unbelievable." He complained in a low voice, then put on his headphones and immersed himself in the world of pleasure again.

Today is February 2th, 10 hours before the first leg of the Champions League round of 16. According to the draw, Manchester City will play away first, which is why they are going to Madrid now. Just last week, due to poor results, Arsenal coach Emery was officially sacked, and his successor was Mikel Arteta.

Everyone at Manchester City knows Arteta's love for Arsenal, but it was still a shock to them that he chose to take over at this time. You know, Arsenal is a mess at the moment. They have only won 5 of the past 1 games and are only 7 points away from the relegation zone.

More importantly, Arsenal's locker room has been torn apart. Ever since their captain Xhaka angrily lashed out at the fans and aroused public anger, Emery said he would not punish him but turned around and stripped Xhaka of the captain's armband. Arsenal's locker room is seriously out of control. Who can guarantee that changing the head coach can unite them again?

As the captain, Batistuta went to find Arteta as soon as he heard the news of Arteta's contact with Arsenal, and expressed his intention to retain him very directly, but Arteta was determined to coach, and Batistuta had no choice but to give his blessing.

More than half of the 19-20 season has passed, but to Batistuta it feels like two seasons have passed. It is really not easy to be a captain. Once there is a problem, the media will hold on to it and the shortcomings will be infinitely magnified. No wonder Kompany became bald so early.

wait--

Batty's fingers holding the phone paused.

Maybe it's time to buy some anti-hair loss shampoo, he thought.

Lucas next to him keenly caught Batty's small yawn and asked, "Are you sleepy? Didn't you sleep well last night?"

"Hmm." Batty tapped the phone case. "Qiao Lin dragged me to watch a TV series. You know how scary it is for women during their menstrual period."

"How pitiful." Lucas said, putting the blanket on his legs and leaning towards the window. "There are still 40 minutes before landing. Do you want to lie down for a while?"

"Oh, that's thoughtful, but no thanks." Batty put down his phone, yawned again, and then raised his hand to the back row, "Loach, give me the eye mask, it's too bright over there in Luki, I just need to squint for 15 minutes--"

"for you."

This is not the sound of a loach.

Batti was stunned for a moment, and while he was stunned, a blindfold was placed on his hand. At the same time, he also felt the touch of the man's fingers and his low body temperature.

look back.

I don't know when the loach sitting behind him turned into De Bruyne.

"What's wrong?" The Belgian midfielder acted very naturally.

Batty looked at him and then at the eye mask in his hand, neither refusing nor accepting, "Where is Loach?" he asked in a flat tone.

"I don't know, maybe in the bathroom," De Bruyne said.

"Then why are you here?" Batty asked again.

"I've been here since I got on the plane," De Bruyne replied.

lie.

If you were there, he would never sit in this row.

Batty narrowed his eyes and said, "If you say so, then so be it."

He turned back and stuffed the blindfold under his butt to keep it company with the newspaper full of lies.

"Guess what, Luki, I changed my mind." Batistuta pushed the blanket off Lucas' legs and laid face down, using the French defender's jacket as a blindfold. He took a deep breath. "It smells really good, like Dior Desert. The one I gave you?"

"Yes!" Lucas seemed surprised and careful. He moved his legs to avoid the zipper getting caught in Batty's hair. "I thought you bought it and didn't want it anymore."

"Oh dear, I don't have the habit of giving gifts to people casually. I gave you this because it suits you." Batty patted Lucas's belly gently. "I don't want to miss Pep's rooming arrangement. Call me before landing."

"Do not worry."

Listening to the conversation between the two, De Bruyne almost broke the screen of his phone.

Because he had heard the same words last season, and similarly, Batistuta also gave him a perfume called Dior Wilderness and claimed that he was very suitable for that scent.

At this time and place, and with what just happened (the eyepatch), it’s hard to believe that the little bastard didn’t do it on purpose.

De Bruyne felt his brain was burning, along with his trachea and lungs, and he realized that they were in a worse situation than in the 16-17 season.

Batty was angry and wanted to end it, but he couldn't completely ignore him, and intentionally or unintentionally did some small things to irritate him. As for him, he didn't want to end it, but he was also unwilling to completely compromise.

Maybe another season like last season?
No, no.

Last season, it was Batty who did something wrong, so he had the confidence to make him kneel down and obey. This season is different. This season is -

Wait, what's the difference?
What did they quarrel about?

Suddenly, text messages from the coaching staff were sent to everyone’s mobile phone, containing some things that needed attention in Madrid, such as hotel maps, restaurant opening hours, and various local service phone numbers.

This message calmed De Bruyne down a little. He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on the upcoming game tomorrow. His and Batistuta's matters could wait. If they won this strong match, then theoretically things would be easier to resolve.

Not far away, Neymar, wearing a headset, occupied an entire row by himself, playing Mario Kart on his game console. He saw everything that happened, but he was not panicked at all.

He and Batistuta exchanged Ballon d'Or awards.

No one, he meant, no one could take Batistuta away. Their futures were bound together, there was no doubt about that.

……

After arriving in Madrid, the team first rested in the hotel for 30 minutes, and then went to the Bernabeu Stadium to walk on the grass. At 2 pm, the team returned to the hotel for lunch, and then until around 7:30, they would set off again to the Bernabeu for the official match.

At the door of the restaurant, Guardiola stopped Batistuta. The willful king was planning to skip lunch and quietly return to his room with dessert. He usually did this and was rarely blocked by the head coach. But today, unfortunately, he devoted half of his energy to chatting online, so he did not notice Guardiola's approach.

"Bati, you're not going to eat again, right?" Guardiola asked. "The game is at night. If you don't eat anything by then, it will cause low blood sugar and eventually become a weak shrimp."

"Relax, it won't happen." Batty ate a piece of pudding in front of the head coach, "Look, I ate something."

"…You need to eat proper food. Desserts and potions won't help you."

"You don't eat either, Pep." Batistuta retorted confidently, "You don't eat anything before every game. If it's at night (the game), then you don't eat for the whole day. Don't treat me as a fool who knows nothing."

"I'm the head coach, and an empty stomach is good for thinking."

"Yes."

"But you are a player who needs to play, Batistuta. I still expect you to play the whole game." Guardiola pinched his temple. "I am really tired of asking loaches to feed you food every time before the game. Even for one day, just one day, can you let me stop worrying about you?"

"-Oh." Batty said perfunctorily in a long voice.

His online chat partner sent another message, Batistuta took a peek, then put the phone in his pocket before Guardiola angrily kicked him to the bench.

"You're right, Pep, I should eat something," he said flatteringly. "Wait, I'll go order some Riyad pasta."

As Guardiola watched, Batistuta went to the chef brought by Manchester City and ordered a popular pasta dish. All kidding aside, he loved the dish, but to be honest, when Batistuta took the plate from the chef, he really had no appetite. Even though the chef reduced the portion under his desperate hints, he was still not interested.

"Have some, please." The Catalan made a very gentlemanly gesture.

Batistuta reluctantly used a fork to roll up a few bites and ate them. A few minutes later, an assistant coach came to talk to Guardiola. Batistuta's chance came. He suddenly stood up and said, "I suddenly can't remember whether I brought my lucky shin guards. Sorry, Pep, I have to go back to the room to check."

"Okay." Guardiola agreed, "Take the rest and go back to the room to check it won't affect your meal."

"actually--"

"It's settled, either you take it back to the room, or you finish eating here and then go back, there is no other option." Guardiola did not give him a chance to refute, "Or I'll call Silvia (nutritionist) and Loach and ask them to urge you to finish eating."

Hell, if those two were here it wouldn't just be pasta.

Barty wrinkled his nose, reluctantly took the plate and went back to his room.

It’s not a big problem, he thought, I can give it to you when I get back—

"Don't think about asking Neymar to help you eat, I will ask him." Guardiola said loudly to his back, "You know how bad he is at lying. If I find out that you haven't finished eating--"

"Got it!" Batty interrupted the coach angrily. This was a threat, a naked threat. He turned around, put on a smile, and bowed elegantly to Guardiola, "Don't worry, sir, I will finish it."

Guardiola was satisfied.

"Good boy." he said.

……

However, Guardiola still missed something.

He overlooked Batty's outstanding social skills. Less than half a day after staying in the hotel, he became acquainted with the head waiter's dog, a silly French bulldog. After coming out of the restaurant, Batty went straight to his new friend and gave him all the pasta as a gift.

Of course, he remembered to leave one as evidence.

What did he prove? He had eaten all the noodles, and Neymar was the witness.

When Batistuta took the plate back to the room, he deliberately let Neymar see him slurping the last strand of pasta, so that when Guardiola asked, he would get wrong information from Neymar.

Neymar is not good at lying, so let him not know that he is lying.

Batty's new friend was very satisfied with his gift, and after enjoying it, he lay down and let him scratch his belly. Batty smiled with his eyes curved, he took out a tissue, wiped the dog's mouth very gently, and finally patted the French bulldog's head.

"Good boy."

……

Batistuta calculated the time to go back. He took the empty plate, bit the last piece of pasta in his mouth, and then pretended to be full and pushed the door open. "Hey." Neymar was lying on the bed playing games. He looked up and greeted Batistuta when he heard Batistuta come in. Sure enough, as Batistuta predicted, he saw the half piece of pasta.

"Wow-oh!" he exclaimed. "Can pigs fly? You actually had a proper meal on game day."

Batty raised an eyebrow at him: "Your English has improved a lot."

"Of course! I practice every day!" Neymar put down the tablet and said proudly, "What did they do? How dare you open your mouth? Tell me, so I can learn from you."

"If you're willing to put your hands on my neck next time, I'll be willing to open my mouth to you." Batty put down the plate and threw himself on the bed, making a joke that was neither too big nor too small.

Neymar kicked his ass.

This was easily accomplished since they had combined the two beds into one ahead of time.

"Well, it was Pep. He forced me to eat or he wouldn't let me play." Batistuta said half-truthfully. He felt the vibration in his pocket, so he took out his phone and turned over on the pillow, "Puff--"

The other side sent him a lot of pictures of seagull memes.

Those robber-like birds that would snatch things from tourists are really funny. At least after seeing those pictures, Batty's mind was full of classic quotes.

[Seagulls are equally annoying all over the world.] he wrote.

[Yes, it's the same everywhere.] The other side replied, [Only at night can you avoid being harassed by them. Speaking of which, the competition will be held tonight. Do you want to go to the beach after it's over?]
Is this an invitation?

Batty looked at the sentences that had obviously been polished by a translator and couldn't help but curl up the corners of his mouth.

It’s not impossible, he thought.

"Uh, Batistuta?" Neymar was a little concerned by the sudden interruption of the conversation. He first secretly peeked at Batistuta's chat, and then found that no matter how much he moved, he couldn't attract Batistuta's attention. He asked directly, "Who are you chatting with? I see you have been chatting for a while, so I thought, why don't you introduce me to someone?"

"No." Batty rejected him. "Believe me, you two won't be able to talk."

"Why not?" Neymar insisted, "I know there are a lot of rubbish around me because of my status and money, but apart from them, I also have true friends. They all think I'm very interesting and easy to get along with, so you don't have to worry about me and your friends being awkward."

That's not a cold one.

"My answer is still no," Batty said.

"I don't understand." Neymar sat up and made himself look more serious. "Why are you so reluctant to let me enter your social circle? What are you trying to hide? Who is the other party?"

"Hey, relax, buddy. You sound like an American white housewife who suspects her husband of cheating on her." After hearing Neymar's three consecutive questions, Batistuta finally pulled his eyes off the screen in his hand. "I'm not excluding you. My social circle is very simple. You know Loach and Qiao Lin."

“That’s in reality.”

"That's exactly right!" Batty tried to argue, "That's why I don't want you to come because this is online."

"What do you mean?"

"I communicate with him mainly through English, translators, emojis, and bad jokes, the kind that send people to hell." Batty shook his phone. "I'm not sure you can accept jokes about pedophiles and Nazis, so--"

As he was speaking, more news came from the other side.

Batty glanced at his phone distractedly, but after just one glance, his attention was completely drawn away.

"So what?" Neymar was still waiting for him to continue.

"So." Barty pursed his lips, then couldn't help laughing so hard that he punched the pillow, "So we should go to the dock and get some fries, hahahahahaha!"

An illogical and nonsensical answer.
Obviously, he returned to the world of his online friend.

Neymar: …
Neymar: Okay, very good
Do you think there is no way out?
no no.

He had done stupid things like this before, but Rafina taught him a good way through her actions.

Neymar adjusted his collar, and then—

"what!!"

He suddenly let out a scream, short but full of emotion, as if he had really seen a ghost.

"What what!" Batty was so scared that he almost threw his phone away, "What's wrong Ney?" He jumped up from the bed and looked at Neymar in horror, "Oh my God, are you trying to scare me to death!"

"Bati!" Neymar maintained his ghostly emotion and pointed to the door, "Look what that is!!!"

Batty subconsciously looked in the direction he pointed: "What is that? Why don't I see anything? Hey! You're cheating!"

While he was distracted, Neymar quickly snatched his phone away.

"Ha! I fooled you!" He jumped diagonally and protected the phone in his hand. "Today I want to see who this guy you've been chatting with for so long is!"

"Stop it!" Batty jumped off the bed and pretended to snatch it back, "Give me the phone!"

"Wait till I finish reading!" Neymar turned his back to him and flipped the page, "Let me take a look and I'll give it to you, don't snatch it away!"

"No!"

"What are you hiding Barty baby!"

"Nothing, give it back to me!"

"Impossible! If you didn't hide it, why wouldn't you show it to me?"

"No means no!"

"I do not believe."

"Give me!"

"No! Don't grab it!"

Just when Batistuta was about to get really angry and planned to use force to get the phone back, Neymar suddenly stopped moving. He maintained a hunched defensive posture, staring at the screen in a daze.

There was only one reason why he could do this.

"Number 1, goalkeeper, Belgian, Real Madrid, Batistuta, the person you are chatting with online is Courtois?" Neymar turned and looked at Batistuta in shock. He raised his mobile phone, and there was a meme of a shocked cat on the screen. Neymar seemed to have taken the picture off and pasted it on his face.

"Yeeeeeeeeeah." Seeing that he could no longer hide it, Batty simply admitted it generously. He turned around and sat on the bed, looking indifferent.

"But we are playing against Real Madrid tonight, Batistuta!" Neymar was still shocked.

"So what, it's not Manchester United."

"You are the captain!!" Neymar flipped through the chat history between Batistuta and Courtois, and suddenly he caught a picture of the Belgian national team at the 2018 World Cup. The photo was cut off a bit, but you can still clearly see Courtois himself, as well as the person next to him -

"Wait a minute!"

Neymar's eyes widened even further as he thought of a piece of gossip that had already been confirmed.

"Courtois and De...Bati! That's not why you want to talk to him!" he asked in surprise.

"What are you talking about, Ney."

"That Belgian made you angry, so you want to take revenge on him!" Neymar was shocked by his own guess, "You, he, is not, this, you, I——"

"That's not the case." Batty rolled his eyes. "Of course I didn't talk to Tebow because of Kevin."

"Thibaut!" Neymar almost burst out, "You call him Thibaut!"

"Yes, because he's very interesting and we had a great time chatting. We're friends, so can't we call each other by our first names?" Batty gave a fake smile that was unique to him. "And it wasn't me who approached him, it was him who approached me to ask questions."

"What could he ask you?" Neymar still didn't believe it.

"Business cooperation." Batistuta lied casually, "We endorse the same brand of watches. He wanted to know what kind of agreement I signed with the other party because he moved from Chelsea to Real Madrid and his image rights changed."

Okay, this one sounds reasonable.

"But why you?" Neymar asked again, "If it's a business problem like he said, he should ask his agent."

"I don't know about that." Batty couldn't make it up. He lay on the bed and used his ultimate weapon. "Maybe because the parent company of the watch is my godfather, he wants to get more money by building a good relationship with me."

Oh, I see.

This explanation makes perfect sense.

A long time ago, someone in Neymar's team had put forward a similar idea. At that time, it was an endorsement of a snack product, and the brand happened to be bought by Godfather Batistuta.

"Honestly, if I wanted to use Courtois to stimulate Kevin, I wouldn't just chat with him." Batistuta said sincerely, "You know what I mean."

Neymar hit Batistuta on the head.

"...It's a luxury to completely get you out of the Brazilian mindset, right?" He returned the phone to Batistuta and sat down on the bed next to him. "Even so, it still feels weird. You'd better restrain yourself. No matter how interesting that guy is, it will be troublesome if De Bruyne finds out."

what!
Batistuta put away his phone and looked at Neymar strangely.

"Since when do you care about my relationship with him?" he asked.

"I'm not concerned about you and him." Neymar said seriously, "I'm thinking about the team. If you fight with him in the locker room - which is entirely possible, what should you do?"

"No big deal." Batty muttered, "I won't spoil him."

"Of course you can, but—"

"No one knows about this except you and me," Batistuta interrupted Neymar, before pushing him down. "I'm sure I won't spread it around, so I assume you won't either."

"I--"

"You want hush money, right? I understand."

"No, no, no, Barty! That's not what I meant."

"But I am." Batty smiled ambiguously, leaned over and slowly crawled over, "Just think of it as playing with me, honey."

"…The game is tonight."

"I know."

"Then how do we--"

"Do you remember what you asked me just now?" Batty smoothed his hair and knelt down in a suitable position on the bed. "Please don't tell on me. I will open my mouth for you obediently."

Neymar hesitated for half a second.

In the end, I didn't refuse.

(End of this chapter)