[Football] Bad Boy Batty

"I give up. Winnie is right. Mario is the most introverted Brazilian I have ever met."

The afternoon training was over, and Batistuta didn't stay for a minute longer. He lied that he had some business issues to resolve, and pulled Neymar towards the room.

Just five minutes ago, he tried to think of a new goal celebration with Mario, but the kid was as nervous as a hamster and kept waving his hands and saying that his dance was ugly.

Not just this.

During training, Batty and others deliberately "targeted" the two newcomers, making them make mistakes, and then reasonably asked them to sing a song that best represented themselves, do a dance they were good at, or do some small interactions, such as lining up to knock on their heads, or kicking their butts with a ball.

They are essentially games that allow them to quickly integrate into the group.

But Mario screwed up everything.

When asked to sing, he said he couldn't and seldom listened to music; when asked to dance, he said he danced very ugly; he did hit his head and kick his butt, but he was very nervous. It was hard to imagine that a big guy who was at least 6.1 feet tall would stand there with his head down and look embarrassed after being teased in a good-natured way by his teammates.

And I didn't laugh along with everyone else.

Being a little too introverted, the Brazilian players, led by Batistuta, were filled with guilt, as if they were all bad guys who only knew how to bully newcomers.

In contrast to him, Renan adapted to these 'welcome activities' very quickly. With a face like a mini Costa, he accepted all requests.

Perhaps because of their similar age, it only took Renan Lodi one day to become part of the Brazilian team.

'bang'

Batty slammed and closed the door.

"Honestly, Ney, have you ever seen such an introverted player?" He sat backwards in his chair and looked at Neymar and asked, "This is no longer a question of style. Apart from his Brazilian ancestry, I have never known anyone who can wrap himself up to this extent."

"Well, I have met a few," Neymar shrugged, crossing his arms. "But that was a few years ago, and they were all kids. At the time, they asked me to go to La Masia to meet the kids. I went, and everyone was very enthusiastic, but there were also a few who didn't say a word the whole time and just looked at me."

Batistuta blew his hair and said, "What about professional players? They have signed professional contracts and can play with us in the league. Have you seen anyone like him?"

This question stumped Neymar. He thought about it and shook his head.

"Probably, no."

"Right!" Batistuta raised his voice as if he had finally found agreement. "Football is a team sport. Communication is necessary. I really doubt why he wants to play football. You see, he can't have a normal conversation with us at all!"

"-Maybe he's nervous." Neymar began to sympathize with Mario. "Today is his first day here. He's 17 years old and doesn't have much experience. This is understandable."

"I was 18 years old when I first joined the national team." Batistuta raised an eyebrow at Neymar. "When I met you, I was 17 and had just come out of the Brazilian league. You were like a star to me, and I had a fight with you that week."

"This is different."

"What's the difference?"

"You are a lawless little bastard, that's the difference." Neymar walked over and patted Batistuta's hair dotingly. "It is because of your character that you have become what you are today. If it weren't for you, how could there be the myth of winning four championships and three championships in five years? You are the best leader I know, Batistuta. It's not for nothing that the fans call you the King."

These words were spoken with such sincerity that Batty was at a loss for words.

"Relax, take a deep breath with me." Neymar bent down and held Batistuta's face and said to him seriously, "Mario is different from you. Your anxiety will only make yourself angry and will not help you at all."

Looking at the amber eyes so close to him, Batty took a deep breath and nodded.

"Thank you," he said. "I wouldn't know what I would do without you."

"Maybe you can try telepathy. May the Force be with you and me." In order to ease the atmosphere, Neymar joked with a classic line from "Star Wars".

Batty gave him a sweet smirk.

"Okay, let's get back to Mario's question."

After taking a deep breath to calm himself, Batistuta leaned on the back of the chair and swung his legs: "I am anxious not because his personality is too un-Brazilian, but because I think he-"

"You think he actually has the talent and can do it well, right?" Neymar said what Batistuta wanted to say first.

"That's right." Batty snapped his fingers. "Did you see his passing and confrontation during the training just now? Although this guy doesn't talk, he is really strong in carrying people."

Neymar agreed: "There is another thing. At the end of the second group match, I saw him trying to make a combination, but he stopped before calling for Guimaraes and Jesus to run. In the end, the ball was passed but no one received it."

"Yes, yes!" Batistuta also noticed this detail. "If he didn't have such a talent like a God's perspective, I wouldn't be so anxious about his damn personality. Or if his personality was swapped with Renan's, I swear, he would be the next defender/midfielder that all of Europe would fight for."

This is actually a bit of an exaggeration, but Mario's talent is real. If he can be trained well, he will at least have a fixed starting spot in the national team in the future.

"Annoying..." Batty slumped down on the chair in frustration. "Tell me, what should I do?"

Neymar didn't know what to do.

He could see Mario's talents and problems, but he was not good at guiding and did not know how to teach young players. It was his limit to say some nice words of comfort when Batistuta was in a bad mood.

Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted them.

"Bati, Batistuta? Are you in there?" It was the voice of the assistant coach, the one who followed Zidane. "Zizou wants to see you. He sent you a message but you didn't seem to see it. Do you have time now?"

What a hassle.

Batty rolled his eyes at the ceiling, then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, which showed an unread message from 10 minutes ago, confirming what his assistant said.

"I'm here!" he responded loudly, "Give me a minute, I'll be there soon!"

Batistuta stood up, stretched, and looked at Neymar: "I'll go see what he wants to talk to me about. When I come back to take a shower, we'll go to the restaurant together."

"Okay, I'll wait for you."...

When Batistuta arrived at the head coach's office, Zidane was standing next to the tactical board, wearing a training suit instead of a suit. Seeing Batistuta coming in, the Frenchman put down what he was doing and leaned against the desk.

"Sit down," he said.

Batty didn't bother to be polite with the head coach, and sat on the sofa with his legs crossed. It had only been a few days, so it was almost impossible for him to be completely on guard.

"what's up?"

"I want to ask you what you think of Mario," Zidane said. "What do you think of him? Can he succeed Alves as the new right back?"

ha?
Batistuta didn't understand why Zidane asked this. He frowned and gave the head coach a scrutinizing look.

"I'm thinking about transforming the team," Zidane explained. "Having worked with Pep Guardiola for so long, I think you should be more or less aware of the current problems of the Brazilian team, such as defense, speed and coordination."

Barty's frown relaxed a little.

This is indeed the problem that the Brazilian team is facing. There are big loopholes in defense (mobile warfare), and a gap between the front and back fields. Everyone has ability, but the coordination is not in place.

"So how are you going to solve it?" Batty asked.

"It's very complicated to explain it in detail. It's not easy to change the team and it's not something that can see results quickly." Zidane changed his posture and came to the tactical board. He moved the magnets representing the players on it. "But I can tell you the most obvious thing - I want you to change to three central defenders."

"Ok?"

"Yes, and your position, I hope to keep it the same as this season at the club, which is number 10."

Looking at the constantly changing lineup on the tactical board, Batistuta was a little dazed.

Zidane then told him about his rather grand plan, including each player's characteristics, weaknesses, and the positions he wanted them to play.

Batistuta was overwhelmed by his sudden enthusiasm for tactics.

By the time he came to his senses, almost an hour had passed, and he was surprised to find that his vigilance against Zidane had mostly disappeared.

"What do you think?" Zidane asked, tapping the whiteboard.

"Well," Batistuta felt as if he had returned to Guardiola's tactical class. He pursed his lips, "Very good, very good, very clear."

Zidane achieved his goal.

"Then let's get back to the topic just now, Mario, what do you think of him?" He returned to his desk. "His ability is beyond doubt, but his personality--"

"My God, his character is just like a piece of wood!" Batty no longer resisted the head coach. "Did you see how hard I tried to help him in the afternoon training, but he was indifferent. I felt like I was radiating meaningless enthusiasm to a potato!"

"Well, Mario has some character flaws, but it cannot be denied that he can play the ball very well with very little communication." Zidane spoke at full speed, "This is also the main reason why I called you here. I hope you can guide him."

"What! You want me to--" Batty opened his eyes wide in disbelief, "No, didn't you listen to a word I said? Mario, that kid doesn't listen to me, I can't take care of him!"

"I've seen him with his family and friends and he fits the stereotype of Brazilians," Zidane said. "I guess he's a slow starter."

"No matter what type! I told you I can't take him with me. There's no point in discussing this!"

The Frenchman shook his head: "You underestimate yourself, Batistuta. I spoke to Pep on the phone and he told me that you have magic."

"Magic? What magic?"

“You can make everyone who comes into contact with you love you.”

"Ha! That's bullshit." Batty said disdainfully, "You should go online and see how many people curse at me and hate me. I can't even count them all."

"That's another thing, I mean you have a gift for connecting with people, like all great leaders, you do too," Zidane said. "Manchester City are a team because of you, they love you, you are their spiritual totem, you are good at it."

Batty moved his mouth but said nothing.

"That's why you guys were able to keep the Champions League final together after you left the field. You were like glue, because of you they became a whole." Zidane is more talkative than he looks. "So, Batistuta, I believe you can change Mario and let him really unleash his talent."

Batty compromised.

"Your ability to control minds is on par with Pep's." He said with a hint of sarcasm, "Anything else? If not, I'm leaving."

Zidane smiled.

"Yes." He took out a plate from the drawer like a magician. On the plate was a small plastic spoon, and in the middle was a caramel pudding that was brown on top and light on the bottom.

One, caramel pudding.

Batty: !!!
"I left this for you." Zidane beckoned him over. "Eat it before you leave. Don't tell them. I still have to establish my authority."

After a few tentative glances at the head coach, Batty quickly took the plate and returned to the sofa.

"Thank you." He took a big bite and put it into his mouth. The sweetness exploded. Batty narrowed his eyes in satisfaction. "I was wrong, coach. You are a good person."

Looking at the king of Manchester City who was bribed by a pudding, Zidane showed a kind (successful) smile.

"You can call me Zizou."

(End of this chapter)