[Football] Bad Boy Batty

Taking into account the environment, climate and adapting to the stadium, Guardiola and his team decided to set off one day earlier. With nearly 1 hours left before the Champions League final, Manchester City set off for St. Petersburg.

As usual, Batty was the last to arrive.

After throwing his backpack and suitcase to Loach, the King yawned and boarded the first-team bus to the airport. As soon as he got on, he smelled the aroma of light cream. Looking inside, Stones and Walker were surrounding the chef waiting for delicious food.

"It smells great!" Batty put his backpack on the seat and jumped to the chef, but he couldn't squeeze in, so he had to put his chin on Walker's shoulder and look inside, "Cake? You must tell me it's not made of damn vegetable cream."

"It's a cake, but it's not for you." Walker poked Batty's forehead with his index finger, "This is our birthday cake."

Birthday Cake?

Batty blinked and didn't quite react.

"Who's birthday?" he asked.

"Me." Walker twitched his eyebrows at Batty, "And Johnny. We have the same birthday."

Oh, Batty remembers this.

"I know you two are as close as brothers because of this, but don't be ridiculous, I remember that was in May--"

"May 5th," Walker said, taking over Batty's words. "That's today."

"...My bad." Batty apologized insincerely, pinched Stones' nose, flicked Walker's ear, raised his hand to cheer, and quickly went through the birthday process, "Happy birthday, so can I have the cake?"

"No." Walker said without hesitation, "Did you miss breakfast or something?"

"The king never eats breakfast."

"Ha! I laughed." Walker hit Batty's shoulder. "Come on, Batty, you are not nervous, are you trying to cover it up?"

'Boom—'

Batty elbowed Walker hard.

"I'm not nervous." He gave an unconvincing smile, "It's just a competition. It couldn't be more normal. I've made it to the finals four times in five years and I've won two trophies. Nervous? What a joke."

Walker twitched his eyebrows. "Are you usually so talkative?"

"Tsk, you're just using this to distract attention from not giving me the cake, right?" Batty crossed his arms, "Kyle—"

"Don't act like a spoiled brat to me, you little bastard. Even if you're really nervous, I won't give it to you if you remember my birthday wrong. No way." Walker said firmly.

Tsk.
Cheapskate.

Batty rolled his eyes at him a little, then raised his hand and stuck out his tongue at him, making an expression of great disgust, which caused a good-natured laugh in the car.

But Walker wasn't done yet: "Also, Batty, it's ok that you got my name wrong, but how come you got John's name wrong?"

"That's interesting." Seat B leaned on the back of his chair and teased them, "What do you mean by 'even John's was wrong?' Does Batty have a deeper connection with him than you do?"

Stones straightened his back.

B's words made him feel uncomfortable, even though he knew the other party didn't mean anything deep.

"Well, Barty, you go back there," he said. "I'll save one for you when you're done."

Batty was quite satisfied with what he said. After making a gesture to Seat B that said "I'm watching you", he turned and walked to the back of the car.

"Here!" Neymar took off one of his headphones and waved, "I brought you a blanket."

"You promised me to play Zelda with me." Lucas waved the two Switches in his hands and blinked his puppy eyes at Batty. "You can't go back on your word, Captain."

De Bruyne on the other side didn't say anything, but he just took out a pudding from his backpack, which immediately attracted Batistuta's full attention.

Watching the king's leaving figure, Walker turned his head and glared at his friend.

"What's wrong?" Stones looked puzzled.

Walker continued to stare.

"What's wrong?" Stones also opened his eyes wide and answered again.

Walker kicked him in the shin, 'Are you stupid?'

Stones made an incomprehensible expression.

Walker used his thumb to point to Batistuta, who was being fought over by several people behind him, and said, "You just let such a good opportunity slip away?" He moved his mouth and said silently, "Bati is really nervous. You should rush up and accompany him until the end of the game, and then he will be completely yours."

'Kyle! What are you talking about!'

'God, I really doubt you got it that day, Johnny boy, you didn't get Barty, Barty got you!'

Stones: …

What the hell is going on? It's getting more and more outrageous.

He snorted and gave his friend a 'mind your own business' look before putting on his headphones and ignoring anything he said.

Walker rolled his eyes.

"Coward."

……

Compared to the relaxed and cheerful atmosphere on the players' side, the coaching staff's car was not so happy. Guardiola frowned as he looked at the analysis on his notebook. He had not yet decided on the final lineup.

Should we use a frontless formation?

If used, should Batistuta be placed as a right winger or a false 9?
Moreover, should we use more lineups this season, or use a new one unexpectedly to avoid Real Madrid's targeted attack?
How will Zidane deal with Real Madrid?

"He probably won't use Hazard again. The current Hazard will only drag down their formation." The assistant beside him paused the Real Madrid-Chelsea semi-final on the screen and said, "It's not just a problem of being unable to execute tactical requirements. Hazard will have a counterproductive effect on the court. At least for now, he and Vinicius can't coexist."

Guardiola nodded slowly.

He also agreed with Zidane's idea that he would not use Hazard in the final, but he was more concerned about Real Madrid's forward line. What he wanted to figure out now was how Zidane would arrange these defenders of Real Madrid.

Varane was injured before the semi-finals, while Ramos had just returned from injury, so in the second leg against Chelsea, Zidane put Ramos on the field. In order to reduce Ramos' burden and prevent the Blues' quick counterattack from overwhelming him, Real Madrid used a 352 formation.

Although Real Madrid won in the end and Ramos scored the winning header, that could not cover up his poor performance on the defensive end.

Without Courtois, Real Madrid might not have lasted long enough for him to score the winning goal.

"How is Varane's injury?" Guardiola asked.

"Are you saying he might be in the starting lineup?" The assistant coach next to him clicked on his personal folder. "No, according to the news, he has to work overtime to recover in order to catch up with the European Cup, so he probably won't start."

The head coach nodded again and returned to the previous question.

Zidane, what methods will you use to deal with me?

……

This question troubled Guardiola all the way, from the time they got on the plane until they arrived in Russia, he did not come to a final conclusion.

However, he did not let this problem affect him too much. In fact, he did not let anyone find out. He calmly announced the starting lineup and decided on the final tactical position with the team. No striker formation, Rodri as the single defensive midfielder, B Silva as the right winger, and Batistuta as the pseudo center forward.

Compared to the recent league games, this is indeed a somewhat unusual lineup, but it is not completely unused for the entire season.

To seize the midfield.

Under this arrangement, although Gundogan cannot exert his full strength as a defensive midfielder, Real Madrid's midfield and backcourt will be cut off. Limiting their ball output is equivalent to limiting their entire counterattack tactics.

Guardiola was so excited by his own thoughts that he couldn't calm down until he dragged his suitcase into the hotel lobby. Then he realized that he was about to face an old and troublesome problem - room allocation.

And trouble itself was coming toward him.

"Bati." Guardiola called his name, "This time..."

Who will you live with this time?

"Why do you ask?" Batty seemed very confused. He scratched his hair that was flying around. It looked like he had slept on the way here. "Didn't Manu say that we booked single rooms this time?"

Ok?
Guardiola was very surprised.

"Yeah." He made a meaningless sound. "That's right, but you, I remember you seemed to prefer sharing the room with roommates."

Batty shrugged and admitted it generously.

"Yes, I'm Brazilian and I prefer to share space with others," he said. "But this time I chose to follow the club's instructions. I want to have a quiet night until the final, when we win the whole season."

Guardiola looked at him for a few seconds.

"Are you nervous, Barty?" he asked.

"Are you kidding? Nervous? No, no, no, me?" Batty seemed to have heard a huge joke. He grabbed the suitcase from Loach's hand and sat on it and turned around. "Don't worry, Pep. I can't be nervous even if you are nervous."

Guardiola looked at him for a moment longer.

Well, probably.

The Catalan breathed a sigh of relief, maybe he was a little nervous because of that damn undefeated record of the season, he was magnifying every point that could go wrong.

"Hey, Pep, this is your—"

Manu exchanged for the room card and tapped his friend's shoulder with it to give it to him. Then he saw his long-time friend, the world's No. 1 head coach known for his perfectionism, jumped up like a frightened badger and turned his head to look at him in horror.

The locker room manager was startled, "Uh, Pep?"

"... Sorry." Guardiola was obviously relieved after seeing who was coming. He forced a smile and then took the room card from Manu. "I'm going upstairs. Are you coming?"

Manu looked at him a little worriedly.

"How long has it been since you last spoke to your therapist?" he asked.

"I don't remember, maybe three months." Guardiola didn't care about it. He waved his hand, turned around and went upstairs first.

Just as he turned around, Manu clearly heard him mumbling softly.

"Nervous? I'm not."

Manu: …

He really should talk to his therapist again.

……

In the afternoon they went to the stadium and trained there. After coming back for dinner, everyone was talking and laughing, just like usual, as if this was just an ordinary away game.

"Train as required these two days, be sure to conserve your energy, and don't put unnecessary burdens on yourself." After the meeting in the evening, Guardiola said to everyone, "Go and rest, swim for a while or something, don't run around, we don't know what the epidemic situation is like here."

"If you have anything, call Manu or me. You must go to bed by 11 o'clock at the latest. Don't let me check on you." He added, "Okay, that's all. Let's disband."

The players quickly dispersed.

Guardiola didn't bother to worry about whether these older babies would run around. He returned to the room with the information, then lay in bed with his eyes open until almost 3 a.m., still unable to fall asleep.

Damn it…

The Catalan rubbed his temples, stood up and walked out of the room. He planned to take a walk in the garden, perhaps that would help him put the game behind him.

Then when he reached the garden, he saw Batty.

His captain was sitting on a bench wearing a bathrobe. He didn't even look at his phone. He just stared at a stone in front of him. He didn't know whether it was a real stone or a fake one.

Soon, Batty also discovered him.

The two people who both claimed that they were not nervous looked at each other, and an inexplicable awkwardness began to fill the air.

Half a minute later, the two of them looked away tacitly.

Guardiola coughed a few times, sat down next to Batistuta, and the two began to stare at the stone that they didn't know whether it was real or fake. After a few minutes, Guardiola found out the reason why Batistuta did this, because it really relieved his stress.

About a quarter of an hour later, Batty suddenly spoke.

"Pep."
"Ok?"

"We're going to win, right?"
"..."

"I will."
"Ah."

"What do you mean by that? I asked you if we were going to win, and you said 'what's that?'"
"……Um."

"Tsk, I might as well ask a stone."
"..."

About a quarter of an hour later, it was Guardiola's turn to speak.

"Buddy?"
"Yes, what's up?"

"I think……"
"what?"

“I’m just saying, we’re going to win.”
“…Okay, got it.”

They sat for a while longer, and then parted ways at about 4 o'clock, returning to their rooms. Unbeknownst to them, several figures had walked out of the garden one after another since they had left.

They didn't say hello to each other and just went back to their room in silence.

The next day, smiles returned to everyone's face.

"Hey, did you sleep well last night?"

It seems like nothing happened.

Well, it was just a Champions League final, just a season-long undefeated record that has never been achieved and is unlikely to be repeated.

There's nothing to be nervous about.

(End of this chapter)