[Football] Bad Boy Batty

"I don't understand, really! Why did you shoot, you idiot? Did you have a brain short circuit? Ney is standing on your left, I am on your right, and there is Erling in front of you. You only need to pass it to anyone and we will score double digit goals today!"

In the locker room, Batistuta sat on the back of Stones, who had been taught a lesson and was now lying on the ground, and complained with gritted teeth.

In the history of the Premier League, no team has ever achieved a double-digit score, and they are just one step away from breaking this record.

Stones felt that it was not his fault, as Manchester United's defensive players were lying down, leaving the middle completely empty, and he was in that position at the time.

Although he is a defender, he occasionally practices shooting. The atmosphere and rhythm are so set that anyone would try to kick the ball.

But it is true that if his aim had been better, things would have been completely different.

10-6, my God, if the score really ended with that, and he scored the last goal, he would be praised to the sky by his teammates, including Batistuta.

At that time, what greeted him was not a "beating" but a passionate kiss.

Stones felt a little sad when he thought of this.

Batty felt the English defender move and mercilessly pinched his back: "Why, do you still feel that you are wronged?"

"Ah--" Stones almost bounced up from the ground, but he quickly steadied himself. He was already a sinner for missing the last ball, and if he knocked their king down again, he didn't dare to think about the consequences.

"No, no, Batty, I was wrong." He lay there obediently like a carpet, not even daring to breathe too heavily, for fear that excessive ups and downs would anger the little king on his back again.

Batty snorted, picked up his phone and turned on the screen. The latest battle report was out, with a very eye-catching title.

[Mbappe's hat trick was not enough to save the team. Both sides scored 15 goals, creating the most goal-scoring derby in history. Manchester City won the game 9-6]

Looking at the 9-6 marked in red above, Barty became even more unhappy.

"Ahhhh Johnny!" The Manchester City captain collapsed again. "Why don't you pass the ball! Why don't you pass the ball! Why! Don't! Pass! The! Ball!"

He complained, turned over and raised his legs, changing to a position where he sat astride Stones' back (apparently this would make it easier to exert force). Then he put his hands on the England defender's shoulders from behind and shook him hard: "All we need to do is pass the ball and we'll have the record!"

"Okay, Batty, if you keep making trouble, you'll shake the things in his head evenly." Walker generously lent a helping hand to his friend. "He's already stupid enough. If you keep shaking him like this, he might kick the ball into our goal next time."

"puff--"

Stones felt the force on his shoulder increasing, and then glared at his friend with resentment.

'Damn it, Kyle! You're not helping! ' he said with an accusing look.

"I'm helping you in a unique way, and you don't know how to be grateful." Walker shook his eyebrows at him, "And I see you're quite comfortable like this, what's the matter, hasn't Batty sat on you for such a long time before, you can't do it, Johnny boy."

Listen, is this human language?

Stones looked at Walker with wide eyes, but just as he was about to say something in response, he was slapped on the back of his head.

"I don't think you realize your mistake at all, John." Batty leaned over to his ear and threatened in a low voice, "Starting tomorrow, you won't have peace of mind in training until the World Cup. I will target you and turn you into a loser in every training session. Don't try to escape. I mean what I say!"

Stones didn't respond for a long time.

Batty turned his head to look at him, reached out and patted his cheek: "What, are you scared?"

It wasn't that Stones was scared by the threat. He was just - well, it's a bit hard to explain, but the short of it is that his captain was too close to him when he was speaking harshly to him.

He could feel Batty's warm breath on his ears and the surrounding skin, and strands of damp hair brushing his cheek from time to time. He could also feel the temperature of Batty's palm pressing on his shoulder, even the slightest change.

Perception of vision is a very strange thing. Based on feeling these, the England defender instantly formed the state of him and Batistuta in front of his eyes.

If they weren't in the locker room at this moment, he really couldn't help it.

If only he could lie facing the ceiling the other way around, Stones thought, with Batistuta's legs right above him, his shorts lifted up to his thighs, so he could see it as long as he lowered his head... Oh no no no no!

Soon he felt ashamed of having such thoughts.

'You're not a pervert, John!' Stones said to himself, 'Be normal!'

Just then, Messi's voice rang out from the other end of the locker room.

"Get up, Batty, he definitely doesn't want that," he said.

Batty straightened up and looked over.

"What did you say?" he asked, narrowing his eyes dangerously.

The Argentine was shirtless, holding yerba mate in his hand, with a towel around his neck. His hair looked wet and dripping, as if he had just come out of the shower.

"That's enough." He shrugged, pretending he didn't notice Batty's death glare. "I went to take a shower and you were lecturing him. When I came out, you were still doing it. If any reporter saw it, they would definitely gossip."

"Yes, Batistuta, don't think about the last goal, we won, didn't we?" Neymar immediately agreed, "Think about the goals, you scored 4 today! You have to celebrate, what are your plans later?"

As he said this, he gave a look to B席 who was not far away, signaling him to turn on the speakers quickly to divert Batistuta's attention. The Portuguese midfielder immediately understood, put down the water bottle and quickly walked to the speakers, connected the Bluetooth of his mobile phone, turned the volume to the maximum, and then pressed the power button.

[——Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive! ! 】

The sound of the Bee Gees instantly filled the dressing room.

"Jesus Christ!" Batty changed to a more comfortable kneeling position, "Who put this there? Are you serious?"

"Uh..." Seat B raised his hand hesitantly, "I called up your godfather's favorite playlist and played it randomly. If you don't like it, we can change it."

Batty was stunned for half a second, and then fully demonstrated to the entire locker room how quickly human expressions change.

"No, no, no, no! I didn't say it's bad!" The Manchester City king raised his chin and tried to explain himself, "What I just said meant: Who played this song? It's so suitable for rocking! Seriously, I love this song!"

This, okay.

Everyone:…

"Two-faced," Stones whispered. But cute, he thought.

"Hmm?" Batty reached out and stroked the top of his head threateningly. "What did you just call me, Johnny boy?"

"Nothing, I swear." Stones turned his head and said sincerely.

Batty didn't believe it.

He cracked his finger bones. "I think you have to—"

Sudden.

"Wow!"
"It's so lively!"

Haaland and Grealish came out of the shower. They are usually the slowest because they not only have to wash and blow-dry their hair, but also condition it.

The two had no idea what had just happened in the locker room. Grealish thought the celebration had begun, so he threw away his towel and rushed over to pick up the speakers. B Silva: "Jack, that's not--"

But it was too late, Grealish disconnected the speaker's original Bluetooth and connected his own.

1 seconds, 2 seconds.

The locker room was suddenly quiet at first, and then instantly filled with extremely loud and explosive nightclub remixes.

"Oh yeah!" Grealish started jumping with the speaker. "Come on!" He looked around, "We won 9! What are you doing!"

Everyone:…

If sound waves could be visualized, then at that moment just now, everyone was impacted.

Batty waved his arms angrily. "Who cut the playlist? Change it back! We're not even in the--Ugh!!"

One second he was on Stones' back, the next he was being yanked up and lifted into the air.

It was Haaland. He once again lifted Batistuta up like a cat.

"What are you doing?" the Norwegian asked curiously.

"Oh my god Erling!! Thank you!" Stones quickly took the opportunity to get up from the ground. He stretched his sore back, smiled apologetically to Batistuta and stepped back. "Sorry, captain, but this is not what I want to get up."

"You—" Batty made an irritable gurgling sound from his throat and began to struggle violently, "Come back John, John! Damn it, Erlin, put me down!"

"Hey, stop, you're scratching me." In order to control the frantic captain, Haaland changed his posture and carried Batistuta on his shoulders. "I'll let you go when you calm down. What happened? I thought you were celebrating?"

What looked like celebration?
Batty's eyes widened. "Put me down, Norway! Don't make me repeat myself again!"

Just then, Grealish walked past them with a speaker, "Yeah! We won! Come on! High five!"

After saying that, he ignored Batty's annoyed expression and reached out to high-five him.

Batty: ...
Batty (furious): You guys are dead!

……

When Guardiola pushed open the door of the locker room, he saw such a chaotic scene. He silently took two steps back, reached out and slowly closed the door.

It's really confusing.

……

However, even though he was almost furious, Batistuta later led the whole team to a celebration party. After all, they had never scored such a record before, 9 goals, and that was against Manchester United, the Premier League champions last season.

As for the guys who made him angry, Stones and Haaland were sent by him to do manual labor and be responsible for the team's backpacks, while Grealish was asked to carry the speakers and walk around in front of the Manchester United bus. This behavior was too high-profile. In the era of streaming media, he should be seen on the Internet within 20 minutes.

As for what the fans or sports channels think, that is none of Batty's business.

It was almost 2 a.m. when Batty asked Niu Qiu to drive home. Normally, he would play until 4 a.m., but the situation was special now. The World Cup was less than half a month away, and he needed to keep himself in the best condition.

After returning home, Loach quickly ran to his kitchen to prepare sobering tea for his boss, while Batty hugged the cat Jam and threw himself into the sofa, then stared at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling and fell into thought.

As he was thinking about it, he was suddenly overcome by some not-so-pleasant emotions.

Yes, he scored 4 goals today, 3 of them were scored in the first half, and then he had an assist, and they named him the best player of the game.

But don't forget that he had 6 direct confrontations with defensive players throughout the game, whether it was Varane, Lima, or Augustus, he didn't win once.

This is enough to explain some problems.

Batty turned over and placed the cat on the corner of the sofa, then buried his head in the little guy's soft belly to absorb the warmth.

Brazil doesn't have the Manchester City squad. If he wants to do the same thing in the World Cup...

'Ding'

The ringing of the cell phone interrupted Batty's anxiety. He scratched his hair irritably and took the cell phone out of his pocket.

It's Neymar.

"Uh, hi Buddy, you should be home by now, right?" The call was connected, and the question was asked cautiously, "Is everything okay?"

"Do I look bad somewhere?" Batty rolled over and put the phone to his ear so he could put his hand down to pet the cat.

"I didn't mean to say anything bad about you," Neymar said. "It's just that you were too irritable today, weren't you? Stones, Haaland, and Grealish, and even you when we went to the nightclub later."

"What do you mean?" Batty wrinkled his nose. "Don't question your captain. Besides, they did do something stupid."

"But you overreacted, Batistuta," Neymar continued. "You asked them to take the bag and provoke Manchester United for you, and you drank a dozen mixed drinks in one go at the nightclub and asked a passerby to apologize after bumping into him."

"So you want to say I'm a jerk?" Batty showed complete resistance to the topic. "Come on, Ney, it's not the first day you know me, and I have a psychologist. If I want to talk about it, I will do it."

"No, no, I mean--" Neymar said slowly, "I don't know what's wrong with you, but I care about you and I want to figure it out and help you as much as possible."

Batty is in a better mood.

"I know, thank you." He said a little tiredly, "But I'm fine. The derby game has consumed me too much. I need to take a break."

"Don't hide it from me, Batistuta, we all know it's not that simple." Neymar continued, "The World Cup is coming soon. If something affects your mood, I hope you can tell me. If you fall behind, how can we be the best in the world?"

Barty's lips were pressed into a straight line.

"Remember, you said that the two of us are a pair of socks." Neymar knew very well where Batistuta's softest point was. "So, if something happens to one of them, the other should also know, am I right?"

"Huh..." Batty let out a long breath, then pinched his brows, "You're right, I'm sorry, this has nothing to do with the World Cup... Well, it has something to do with it. I found something about myself from today's game, and then extended it to the World Cup."

He let go of the cat and sat up, leaning against the sofa.

"Maybe we should chat." Batty said after a pause, "But this is not very convenient. Should we switch to video?"

"No need to bother." Neymar's voice suddenly became cheerful. "You did this to me a long time ago, and I was so moved at the time. Now it's my turn. Do you know how long I have been thinking about this day?"

Batty: ?
"What does that mean?" he asked puzzled.

"Don't be impatient, Batistuta, what I mean is..." Neymar dragged out the ending sound, "Open the door."

(End of this chapter)