[Football] Bad Boy Batty

After 20 years, Brazilians won the World Cup again and turned the stadium into a carnival scene. Everywhere you looked, all you could see was yellow celebrating.

In the middle of the stadium, Batistuta and Neymar were lying there with the national flag draped over them, looking at the stars.

"Now we really have a sixth one." Batty pulled off his jersey and held it up, stroking the CFB logo and the five stars around it. He turned his head and asked, "Ney, where do you think that one is best placed?"

"Put it on the top, in the middle." Neymar pointed at Batistuta's jersey, then put his hand back behind his head, "This is so domineering."

"Is that so?" Batty pointed to the place he mentioned.

"Yes." Neymar narrowed his eyes, as if he was imagining what the finished product would look like.

"Isn't it good?" he asked.

"Well, that's a bit silly," Batty commented mercilessly.

"--ha?"

"That would look silly."

"why?"

"You have been playing football in the UK for a few years. Do you know something called Teletubbies?"

"……what is that?"

"A cartoon for 4-year-olds," Batistuta said, drawing a Teletubbies image of Neymar in the air with his finger. "That looks exactly like one of the characters, no kidding."

Neymar was speechless for a long time, not knowing how to refute. Maybe he was too happy after winning, his brain was empty, and he couldn't think of any words he usually used to talk nonsense.

"Okay, let's just treat it as the same." He curled his lips, "Then tell me, how do you rank these six stars?"

"Isn't this simple?"

Batistuta turned sideways and held the team logo on the front of the jersey in front of Neymar. He ran his index finger across the shield-like emblem representing the Brazilian team, which looked like an arched hill at the top.

"Three on the left and three on the right, of course," he said.

Neymar blinked, looked at Batistuta and then at the team logo: "——Don't you think it's a bit crowded?"

"No." Batty said confidently, "Just make the stars smaller."

Neymar: …

Forget it, this problem is too difficult, let’s just leave it to the omnipotent netizens and design department to solve.

At this moment, there was a sudden audio feedback from the stadium broadcast, and a few seconds later, the prelude of a song sounded. It was not any theme song of this World Cup, nor was it from previous sessions, and it was not even music that should appear in Arab countries.

Everyone was drawn to it.

Neymar looked up, "This is——"

"Hahahahahaha 'Mask Off'!" Batty recognized it, and not only recognized the song, he also recognized who did it. "This damn guy is really speechless. The World Cup is doing this kind of thing."

Hearing Batistuta mumbling to himself with a smile, Neymar raised his eyebrows and sat up.

"You knew this?" he asked.

"Of course." Batistuta put his national flag back on his shoulders. "It's a pretty early rap song. It was released when I first went to Manchester City. Loach really likes it. No, I should say he is obsessed with it."

"I know this song. Every video I opened on Instagram back then was of that song," Neymar said. "I mean, loach--"

"Hmm." Batty rolled his eyes sweetly, then pointed to the stadium control room, "I know with my knees that it must have been put there by the loach."

"why?"

"Why do you have so many whys?" Batty 'beeped' at him a few times, and then hummed along with the song, "...From food stamps to a whole'nother domain; Out the bottom, I'm the livin' proof!"

Neymar looked at him, not understanding what he meant.

"Are you stupid Ney?"

"No, no, I'm just, uh, innocent... Can you please say it again in Portuguese?"

"--You're just an idiot." Batty gave him two middle fingers. No matter how majestic his momentum was, he couldn't overcome the language barrier. "What I mean is: from relief to the luxurious upper class, from the slums to prosperity, I am a living example."

"oh oh!"

"So, now you understand why Loach likes it. What he sings is a song, but more importantly, it is the life we ​​once had."

After saying that, Batistuta reached out and pulled Neymar up.

There were staff members calling them. Probably the organizers still had some preparations to make before the final award ceremony. Batty took one last look at the starry sky and went back to the player tunnel.

From the worst favela in Rio to winning the World Cup final.

He really came a long way.

Thank God, thank everyone who accompanied him, thank you——

"Uh, hi Buddy."

In the player tunnel, a strange yet familiar figure interrupted Batistuta's thoughts. It was Ronaldinho, who also came to the scene of the final battle between Brazil and France.

His smile was still so innocent, and anyone who loved football would not hate him. But after seeing Batistuta, there was a hint of awkwardness on his face and his movements became a little stiff, as if he was not sure whether Batistuta welcomed his arrival.

"I don't, I'm not - well, if you want me to go, I understand, I -"

Tsk.

Batistuta lowered his head, curled the corners of his mouth, and gave Ronaldinho a hug before he finished speaking.

Forgive or something.

Shit, they're the world champions! Who the hell cares?

"Never mind that! Listen, everyone! We have something more important to do now!" Batty put his arm around his biological father's shoulders and said to everyone, "We have the sixth star! It's time for our "Brasil Ole Ole" to get a sequel!"

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Yes, yes! Follow-up!"
"Six-star Brazil! Six-star Brazil!"

I don’t know who brought the tambourine, but with just a few simple instructions, the beat that runs in the blood of every Brazilian will be activated.

"Everybody come together! Eeeeeeeem cinco-oito, foi Pelé!" Batistuta seemed to be in high spirits. He didn't care that there were players from the French team in the tunnel. He just led a group of Minions to sing their classic tune.

This time, his name also appeared in the lyrics.

……

Batistuta didn't remember the award ceremony very clearly, including the greetings, handshakes, and hugs. He remembered that he hugged many people, including the French president, French officials, the Brazilian president, and Brazilian officials.

And his eyes were always looking for the most important item.

Hercules Trophy.

[Ladies and gentlemen! At this sacred moment, let us invite former Brazilian team meritorious players Ronaldo and Kaka to bring us the final trophy! ]

The audience burst into applause.

Amid cheers, Ronaldinho and Kaka, dressed in suits and ties, brought the trophy to the podium hand in hand.

The distance is getting closer.

Batty's heartbeat was getting faster and faster.

The trophy, the trophy he had been longing for, come on, give it to him, let him touch it, he swore to keep it well and would never secretly take it back and hide it under the quilt.

Then, in his blazing eyes—

The trophy passed him by.

What was stuffed into his arms was the World Cup Golden Ball. Batistuta: …

(dislike)
‘Crack! ’

A photo was taken of Batistuta looking down at the Ballon d'Or in his hand with disdain while the real World Cup trophy was being kept backstage, which soon caused quite an "earthquake" in major forums.

The comment section of the live broadcast was also filled with a cheerful atmosphere.

Everywhere: 'Hahahahahahaha', 'LoL', '(laughing and crying) (laughing and crying)'

There are also those who don’t mind making things worse and saying: Give him the real thing quickly, stop keeping the child hanging, can’t you see that our BBB’s eyes are about to pop out!
Next is the photo session.

The only interesting thing was that Mbappe won the Golden Boot, and even though it hurt his heart, he still took a photo with Batistuta holding the trophy.

Sure enough, when it stood over, the French supercar had a sullen face.

"Don't be sad." Barty said with a bright smile, "It's been four years, and it's still you and me on the podium, just in reverse positions. You know, every dog ​​has his day. So, come on, take a photo, smile my dear Kiki!"

Mbappé: …

I've never found this guy so annoying.

……

A few minutes later, of course, it seemed like a century to Batty.

Finally, the final awards ceremony arrived.

As the captain of the Brazilian team, Batistuta came solemnly (not) in front of Ronaldo and Kaka. Looking at the glittering gold cup, he felt like he was about to suffocate.

"Relax, kid." Ronaldinho smiled kindly, "I think you don't want to be the first captain to faint during the World Cup awards ceremony."

"Don't worry, Ronnie." Kaka reached out and ruffled Batty's hair. "This little guy is stronger than you think."

faint?
He wouldn't faint.

After bringing the trophy back, he would have a party for three consecutive days and three nights and drink dozens of mixed drinks, so that he might pass out. But before passing out, he would definitely hold on to the trophy tightly and not let go.

"I'm sorry." Batistuta moistened his dry throat. "I was just thinking - what a pity it wasn't the one from Argentina who gave me the award, you know, the one from Batistuta."

"Oh why?"

"Because this way I can tell him to his face: Sir, I regret to tell you that from today on, your title of God of War belongs to me." Batti smiled as bright as the sun.

The two people in front of him were stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter.

The title of God of War has changed hands.

How arrogant.

"Good! This is the spirit that Brazilian players should have!" Ronaldo patted Batistuta on the shoulder and handed the trophy to him. "Go, celebrate with your teammates!"

Sixth star.

They really did it.

……

After getting the trophy, Batty suddenly calmed down.

How should I put it——

Yeah, it's heavier than I thought.

Even……

A little rougher.

But it doesn't matter, in the eyes of Batistuta and all the members of the Brazilian team, it is incomparably beautiful.

“Captain, come here!” Casemiro smiled and made room, “Quick! Come to the middle! Get ready, hold the trophy high!”

Batistuta squeezed in, facing the thousands of fans in the stands, he bowed his head and kissed the trophy first.

"Ah! You can't cheat!" Neymar noticed his little trick, "We agreed to come in order after the photo is taken!"

Batty raised his chin and replied rather arrogantly: "What's wrong? I'm the captain and I made the winning shot. Can't I kiss it first?"

"I'm your vice-captain and I gave you the assist for the winning goal!" Neymar also had a good reason, "No, since you kissed me I want to kiss you too, give it to me!"

After saying that, he put his hands around Batty's neck and pulled him and the trophy towards him.

"Hey!"

Seeing that Neymar also kissed the trophy, others gave up waiting. The players who had lined up to take pictures rushed to Batistuta and tried to kiss the trophy and the honor.

"Wow! Don't all come up! Follow the order! Hey hey hey! Don't push me! Go away! It's going to break, the stage is going to break!"

However, although the people were in chaos, the formation was still there.

then--

‘Crack! ’

The photographer captured this fleeting moment.

Everyone was staggering, the trophy appeared in the upper left corner, Batistuta was holding it tightly, his face full of surprise and disbelief, next to him was Neymar, who seemed to want to take him and the trophy away together, and there was a reflective spot in the distance, it was Zidane's bald head.

Time freezes.

A chaotic but happy group photo has been added to the Five-Star Brazil's Hall of Fame.

Oh no, it’s six-star Brazil now.

……

Things that can last for a long time, such as fossils, gold and silver, or faces in photographs, have no life and therefore last forever, while real life is living towards death.

High scores cannot last forever, and a great drama will eventually end. Ending is also a kind of death, so no one likes ending. But only ending can give everything a way back.

The beauty of football lies not in its eternity, but in the flowers and applause that have come along the way from nothing to something.

In the end, the feeling of reaching the top will not last long, but precisely because of this, and because it will soon disappear, the momentary brilliance seems so breathtaking.

……

After a quick flash, the picture froze on the statue of Christ the Redeemer in Rio. The statue was so beautiful and shocking at dusk, but soon, gradually, the screen finally returned to darkness.

【What kind of ending do you want? 】

"Can I decide?"

[Of course, this is your documentary.]

"Then..."

The handheld camera shook for a while, and the picture came back.

"Hi, hello, I'm Batistuta, you can call me the Brazilian Rose, the King of Manchester City, or BBB, of course, some people call me a little bastard."

The dark-skinned, light-haired young man wiped and kissed the camera with an uncommonly gentle smile.

"The documentary about how I led Manchester City and the Brazilian team to the top ends here. Next, I think I will embark on a new journey and create new miracles."

"Thank you for reading my story, love you~see you later."

(End of this chapter)