[Football] Bad Boy Batty

To be honest, in the eyes of Brazilians, they only have one opponent in the America's Cup, and they will not meet them in the group stage. Although the new coach brought some discomfort to the team, Peru, Colombia and Ecuador still did not cause any trouble to Brazil, and the Samba Army entered the quarter-finals with a perfect record.

In early July, Brazil, the leader of Group B, will face Chile, the fourth in Group A, at the Nilton Santos Olympic Stadium.

At the same time, the European Cup also reached the quarter-finals. England and Belgium both advanced, with England defeating Germany in the round of 1. In that game, Batistuta called several teammates who played in the Premier League (including some who wanted to go to the Premier League in the future) to watch the live broadcast.

At the last moment, Havertz assisted, and Muller ran half the field but missed the chance to equalize the score. Thomas Muller, who once had the greatest hope of surpassing Klose to become Germany's top scorer, knelt in front of the England goal for a long time.

When England scored the second goal in the 86th minute, all the Brazilians in the room were celebrating, including Batistuta, but there was an inexplicable sense of loss hidden beneath the happiness.

After the match, he lay on the bed, listening to Neymar's snoring next to him and watching the clip of the German team losing the ball over and over again. He was not watching Muller, but just sighing through the mechanical movements over and over again.

Where did the German team that people joked about not knowing when to quit went?

This resulted in Batty not being able to sleep well the whole night.

There were still 7 or 8 hours before the evening game, and Neymar dragged him to the restaurant for dinner. Batistuta was like a puppet, allowing Neymar to manipulate him. Neymar helped him get the plate, put pasta and vegetables on the plate, and finally even led him to the table of their small group.

"Oh, what did you do after watching the game last night? Why are you so sleepy?" Richarlison shouted exaggeratedly, then lowered his body and smiled maliciously, "Did you call a call girl? It's really rude of you to chase us away. Good things should be enjoyed together."

Edson happened to come over with a plate and slapped him on the back of the head.

"Watch your words, pigeon." The Manchester City goalkeeper circled around and sat down opposite him. "There are all kinds of people in the restaurant. Do you want the news [Brazil team is in poor spirits and suspected of hiring call girls] to appear on the front page?"

Richarlison was disappointed and just pouted and kept silent.

Neymar gave Ederson a look of gratitude and put a piece of paper under Batistuta's plate. Jesus and Joelinton (Newcastle striker) also sat down with their plates. The Premier League team was complete.

Batty is still very listless, as if he doesn't care about anything in the outside world. Don't worry about the game, there are still a few hours left and he will be able to recover.

"But you can't play on an empty stomach. We've been saying this for years." Neymar rolled up the pasta with a fork and handed it to Batistuta. "Open your mouth, or I'll call Loach. He still has some vegetable juice left."

Hearing the word vegetable juice, Batty finally cooperated a little.

But still listless.

It wasn't until Richarlison pushed the phone under his nose that Batty finally woke up to the news of [Breaking news! 12 top clubs announced the establishment of the European Super League].

"What the fuck is this?"

"I don't know. The news this morning said that Florentino of Real Madrid took the lead and 6 clubs including Real Madrid, Barcelona, ​​Atletico Madrid, and the big six of the Premier League formed a super league, which is probably similar to the NBA." Neymar explained.

"Can this be organized just because we want to? UEFA hasn't made any statement yet?" Batistuta took his phone and looked at the news. "Ney, you too, came out this morning. You know I don't check group messages in the morning, so why didn't you tell me?"

"I just think it's no big deal," Neymar shrugged. "It doesn't affect us. Although there are more games, there are prize money. Do you see the numbers?"

"Uh-huh, 3.5 million euros."

"Yes, every team gets it every season, not to mention the broadcast dividends and other bonuses." Neymar raised an eyebrow at Batistuta, "Who can resist money?"

Indeed, no one can resist money.

Batistuta looked up at the other people around him who were listening to their discussion. Among these people, few could participate in the European Super League.

After figuring out the whole thing from beginning to end, he had other concerns.

Although the establishment of the European Super League is essentially because UEFA strengthened the "Financial Fair Play Act" to curb money-driven football and intends to help small and medium-sized teams to take away the cake of the giants, it has little to do with the players, but this matter involves FIFA, which is of a completely different nature.

Once this European Super League is really launched, with the publicity capabilities of its financial backer JPMorgan Chase, the popularity will definitely not be low. However, the total traffic is fixed, so the World Cup, which is held every four years, will inevitably be affected.

FIFA will not allow the Americans to have a share in the football industry.

But on the surface, UEFA and FIFA are not strong enough to fight against American capital. So what should they do? They will definitely start from the most fundamental part of the league - the players.

"Forget the money, Ney," Buddy drawled, digging into a spoonful of mashed potatoes. "This thing won't work."

"Why do you say that?" Neymar was puzzled: "You don't seem to support it. Isn't this league good for us?"

"It's good for us, but not for FIFA," Batistuta explained, licking his spoon. "Let me tell you this, if this league really takes off, and you get the money, and then FIFA tells you that any player who participates in the European Super League is prohibited from participating in the World Cup, what would you think?"

Neymar obviously didn't expect this.

Batty watched as his eyes widened little by little, and then his pupils began to tremble.

"Filho da puta!!" Neymar cursed, "I definitely won't give up the World Cup for this, who would do that?!"

"That's it." Batty nodded. "So, it can't be done."

And if this could be accomplished, the financial backer behind it would not be JPMorgan Chase but his godfather Edmondo. No one could compare to him when it came to making money.

Meanwhile, Mario at the next table lowered his head and poked the broccoli with his fork.

Batty was really good, he thought, maybe he could trust him.

……

At 8 o'clock in the evening, the Brazilian team, led by Casemiro, entered the field. The players from both sides were ready and the game officially began.

This time Zidane did not make any drastic changes like in the first game. He used the previous Brazilian team as a model, made some minor modifications on that basis, and fielded a dynamic 433-4231 lineup.

Jesus was at the front as the center forward, with Neymar and Vinicius behind him as the two wingers. He was very persistent in fixing Batistuta in the middle position. Casemiro and Fred played as defensive midfielders behind him. The central defenders were Thiago Silva and Marquinhos. Renan Lodi got the chance to start on the left, and Danilo was still on the right for the time being, with Ederson as the goalkeeper.

When attacking, the team used the most common 4231 formation in modern football. When defending, Batistuta retreated and teamed up with the two defensive midfielders to form a midfield defense line, and launched a counterattack immediately if the ball was stolen.

[I understand what Zidane wants to do, he wants to replicate Real Madrid's ceremonial three midfielders! ]

Yes, he did have that idea.

However, the situation of the Brazilian team is different and cannot be copied completely. In this lineup, Batistuta must be the more important core of Manchester City.

Close to Modric's role.

But considering the Brazilian team's offense and Batistuta's personal ability, the defensive task on him is even lighter. During the offense, he will be pushed to the front line to become one of the four forwards, which will play a crucial ice-breaking role against teams with dense defense.

Batty is fully capable of doing that.

But this would put greater demands on his physical strength.

So Zidane faced the same dilemma as Guardiola. How to ensure that his core players had enough food before the game became the top priority.

Of course, Batistuta’s appetite has always been a mystery, and this cannot be solved in a day or two. It requires long-term planning.

[beep——]
The referee's whistle sounded.

Zidane had his first penalty since taking office, and the maker was the player he strongly promoted, right back Mario Bekalos. Mario got more time today. In the 68th minute of the game, Brazil was leading 3-0. Zidane made a big move and substituted him in. As a result, Mario got into trouble within 2 minutes of coming on.

Perhaps he was eager to score or something else, but he jumped up to block the Chilean player's shot. The ball hit his loose elbow and the referee awarded a penalty.

Fortunately, the problem was not serious and the Brazilian team still advanced strongly with a score of 3-1.

The semi-final will be against Peru.

It’s just that little Mario was not in a good condition. He used to be a little more relaxed, but on the way back he became even more silent than before. He ignored everyone and just stood there like a mushroom, sulking himself.

"Don't take it to heart, Mario. You're a defender, and handball is nothing." Batistuta ran to the last row and sat next to him. "Do you know Kyle Walker? He's one of the founders of Manchester City's undefeated season. He's a right-back like you, and he's also had handball. Every great right-back has made stupid mistakes. If you take it to heart, you lose."

The child still didn't speak.

Batistuta had no choice but to bring up his own experience: "You should have watched the last World Cup. I also assisted the opponent in scoring a goal. It was an own goal and it was in the final. Do you know how many people scolded me at that time? The whole of Brazil, no, half of the world was scolding me. Many people were not even fans, but just followed the trend and watched me because of the World Cup."

Mario finally looked up at Batty.

"Yes," he whispered.

"You know, I felt very uncomfortable at that time because I am an internet creature. I can't live without my mobile phone or social networks. So, every time I opened my mobile phone during that period, there were endless abusive private messages." Batty said easily.

"Didn't you turn off your private messages and go to Las Vegas?" Richarlison came over and asked.

Batty slapped him away.

"Yes, I turned off the private messages," he continued to Mario, "but the insults are real. I know that some people are still talking about it today. If it weren't for my own goal, the long penalty shootout wouldn't have existed, and we would be a six-star Brazil now."

Mario's lip trembled.

"So you are, how did you do it?" he asked in a mumble.

"Just don't care. Don't pay attention to them. Someone scolds you? It doesn't matter. Let them scold you. If you are depressed because of these things, you will just follow their wishes. They are bugs hiding in the shadows. They are destined to look up to us all their lives. Only the occasional opportunity can allow them to scold us to vent their anger." Batty hooked his arm around Mario's neck and patted his chest as he spoke.

"And you know what happened next." He tilted his head and looked at the young Real Madrid defender, "I became the king of Manchester City and led the team to a world record season of undefeated teams."

Mario's breathing quickened.

"So honey, do you want to be as amazing as me?"

"think."

"Then ignore them." Batty raised his lips and kissed Mario's cheek gently. "Be yourself, always magnify your own strengths, and tell yourself every night: I am great, they are not as good as me, I am the best, believe me, you will achieve something."

Mario's heart was pounding and his pupils were shaking.

He heard himself say solemnly, "Yes, I will."

……

After returning to the base, Batistuta wanted to chat with Mario again before going to bed, but before he could go over, Neymar grabbed his wrist.

And not only did he hold it, he held it tighter and tighter.

"Hiss—" Batty felt pain and tried to withdraw his hand, "What are you doing?"

Neymar made a long face: "Follow me."

Batti didn't even have time to react before he was dragged back to the room.

"Hey!"

The door is closed.

Neymar threw the man onto the bed. His strength was as outrageous as his physical strength. When Batistuta didn't resist, he fiddled with him as if he were fiddling with a cell phone.

"What do you want?" Batty propped himself up and looked over with dissatisfaction.

Neymar still had a gloomy face.

"You call him dear," he said, "and you hook your arms around his neck and kiss the corner of his mouth."

It took Batty at least five seconds to realize who this 'he' was.

OMG!

"What's the matter? I just coaxed the little one, and now I have to coax the big one?" Batistuta relaxed his tense back and looked at Neymar with a smile, "Stop it, Ney, I don't like Mario, and Mario doesn't like me either."

"I'm not making a fuss!" Neymar raised his voice, "And it's not just Mario!"

"What does that mean?" Batty kicked off his shoes and sat on the bed with his legs curled up, looking at him innocently, "I don't want to argue with you, Amor, relax, let's talk it out."

"What I mean is--" Neymar took a deep breath, and Batistuta's softening attitude made him calm down a little.

He bent over, supported himself on the edge of the bed, and crawled towards Batty step by step until the distance between their noses disappeared.

"What I want to say is that you have less and less time for me, Batistuta," Neymar said. "In Manchester City and in the Brazilian team, you are always busy. I just want you to watch me."

"You are Neymar, you are surrounded by friends, I thought you never feel lonely."

"I'm not lonely, but it's two different things with you or without you." Neymar tilted his head and rubbed the tattoo on the back of Batistuta's neck. "If you're not here, even if I'm at the center of the party, it's as quiet as the deep sea."

Oh--

This is so sweet.

"And Mario, I know you don't mean that, but seeing you get close to him makes me unhappy." Neymar continued, "Don't like him, okay? My Golden Ball trophy is still in your house. Look at me more."

Neymar has beautiful eyes, and under his gaze, Batistuta couldn't say no.

It's a foul.

"Okay." Batty gave up supporting himself and reached out to hug him and rolled around on the bed. They changed positions and he looked down at him, kneeling down. "As you wish."

Pressing his chest, he felt Neymar's heart beating under his palm.

"I'm yours until tomorrow's training."

(End of this chapter)