804 The Megaphones

When Guardiola received the Nottingham Forest starting lineup list before the game, he looked at the name in the forward line. He thought for a moment, and then asked his assistant beside him, "Is Ibišević injured too?"

Vilanova shook his head in reply, "I haven't heard any such news. All we know is that Eastwood is definitely absent from the game with an injury."

Guardiola fell into deep contemplation when he heard his most trusted assistant say this.

He really did not know why Tony Twain had brought up this completely unknown striker when Ibišević was not injured. He hadn't had any information at all on the player presented before his eyes, beyond the fact that his name was "Aaron Mitchell." And that was only because it was written on the starting list. He would not even know how tall Mitchell was until he saw him in person. Not to mention this player's technical characteristics and actual level of performance...

He frowned. Barcelona's training in defense had been targeted at Ibišević, but now Ibišević was sitting on the substitutes' bench. Barcelona's defenders knew nothing about the player in front of them. How were they supposed to defend? Should they first observe for a while, and then decide? If they did, he would have to hope that Nottingham Forest would not take advantage of this situation to score a goal first...

It seemed like that was their only option. No one in the coaching unit was familiar with this "Aaron Mitchell," and the Barcelona players were even less likely to be familiar with a player that they had never heard of.

This scene all took place before the game began. Now, Guardiola was sitting in the visiting team's technical area and watching the game on the pitch. Next to him, the manager's seat was empty in the home team's technical area. The Chinese assistant manager looked managerial in appearance, but he seemed a little too nervous.

Guardiola still unwittingly looked to the stands, expecting that he would be able to find Tony Twain among so many people. In fact, he did not see him.

※※※

At that point, Twain was enjoying the football game surrounded by a group of his closest fans.

"You rarely watch the game from this spot, do you, Tony?" Fat John said with a smile, sitting on his left. The game had just begun, and his attention was still on the people around him.

"I have been penalized and sent to the stands many times. But this is my first time sitting where the hardcore fans gather. Well... the view is a lot better here than the technical area."

"Why don't we change seats? You can sit here in the future, and I'll sit there." John pointed to the Forest team's technical area below.

Twain grinned and did not reply.

On his other side, Bill poured cold water on his friend and said, "I bet you can't stay seated for forty-five minutes."

"Don't take your own level as the standard on someone else, Skinny!"

Taking advantage of the two men's bickering, Twain turned back and looked up. Nottingham Forest had treated the two UEFA inspectors very well and had given them seats in the VIP box. It had actually been arranged by Twain, and sitting in the stands was his idea as well. Since we are the home team and have the home advantage, we must make good use of it, he thought. Otherwise, we would be wasting our resources.

His arranging to be seated in the stands was not really about enjoying the game with his old friends there. Twain had another purpose.

He glanced back up at the box, but did not see the two black-clad game inspectors. However, he was sure the two men must be up there, drinking and watching the game.

So, he interrupted John's and Bill's argument over who would be more capable to sit in the Nottingham Forest manager's seat.

"Hey, guys. I want to discuss something with you..."

John and Bill turned to him at the same time and stopped arguing. "Anything you need help with, just name it, Tony!" This time, they were in agreement.

"Well, it's like this… The UEFA people are using every possible means that they can to stop me from contacting the coaching unit and the players below, so I don't have any communication devices on me..."

"I'll lend mine to you!" Bill pulled out his cell phone, but it was swatted down by Twain.

"Don't take it out. I can't even borrow someone else's cell phone. Do you think they don't know what I'm doing down here, just because they are sitting up there?" Twain pointed upward without turning back. "They are equipped with powerful binoculars."

"Wow, is that so?" Bill was amazed. It was only an inspection. He wondered, Why do they need to act like voyeurs...?

"I prepared it for them." Twain laughed.

"Huh?" Both of his friends were taken aback.

"I want to show them that I'm completely cooperating with them and definitely will not play any tricks. Preparing binoculars for them proves that I do not have any schemes in mind. But, actually..." Twain gave a sly smile, a look which made John really want to punch him.

"I can't get in touch with those below using any communication device, but the UEFA can't ban the fans from shouting, can they?" He smiled again, his eyes squinting together as he did so.

"Hey, Tony! Don't beat around the bush, just say it! What do you want us to do?" Bill was a little impatient. He was not a man of much restraint.

"Sometimes I may need to give up-to-date instructions based on the situation on the pitch, but I can't share my ideas with my coaches or let the players know. Still, I think maybe I can borrow your mouths to tell them. If I have information that I want to tell the people below, I want you to help me shout it out. Don't be too deliberate, though. It will be just like cheering for the team in the stands... That way, when the UEFA asks me about it, I have an excuse. They can seal my lips, but they can't shut your mouths. Ha!"

John laughed with Twain. It now crossed his mind that Tony Twain's mind must be different from everyone else's. Otherwise, how could he come up with so many clever schemes?

Bill's reaction was a little slower, but what Twain was saying dawned on him soon after.

"No problem, Tony!" He shouted excitedly. "We'd be delighted to face the UEFA head-on! I always find a group of men in suits objectionable!" He also brandished his fists.

John also patted Twain on the shoulder and said, "Go ahead and feel as if you're directing the game from the stands. We'll be your assistant coaches."

Twain nodded to the two men and said, "Thank you, guys!"

John laughed and continued, "As long as you can beat Barcelona and make things difficult for the UEFA, don't mention it—We will help you voice out the instructions! It's not a problem, even if you need us to pave the way!"

When he finished speaking, he got up and left his seat to inform the nearby fans. It would be impossible to act collectively while relying on only two or three people. Therefore, this whole grandstand must be informed of what they were soon going to do.

※※※

Five minutes into the game, Barcelona started being aggressive in its offense because they had kicked off the game, and were able to use the technical advantage to keep the ball on their side. Another reason for Barcelona's fierce attack was that a problem seemed to have arisen in Nottingham Forest's midfield defense that day... George Wood repeatedly turned to the north stands during the game to look for a certain man. He himself found this strange; he had always thought, ever since he was named the team captain, that he should be able to take charge. But when he habitually glanced toward the technical area before the game and could not find that familiar figure, he felt a little unsettled.

Since when had he considered him someone he could rely on?

This is ridiculous! He thought. I'm George Wood. I struggled to make a living in the slums when young and took care of my mother. I don't need to rely on anyone!

Despite thinking this way, he still inexorably threw glances toward the North Grandstand...

There were so many people there that he could not possibly find him.

Just as he turned his head, Iniesta passed the ball past his defensive zone. He did not even react.

※※※

"George is a little distracted..." Twain muttered in the stands, frowning.

Bill, the "number one megaphone" beside him, pricked up his ears and asked, "Do you need us to shout that?"

"Ah? Well, there's no need to." Twain hurriedly waved his hands. The side effect of getting the fans to help him as megaphones was that they could accidentally take what he said casually as something that needed to be shouted out... If anyone was too enthusiastic, awkward scenes such as thousands of fans shouting "māle ge bī" ("your mother's f**king c**t") in unison could arise. He was used to muttering dirty words repeatedly while he watched the games, and those would all be in Mandarin...

He did not know what was wrong with Wood, but, judging by his performance in the last few minutes, he was always glancing around on the pitch and not focused on the game. It was a very rare situation. George Wood was always known to focus his attention, throw his full concentration into the game, and have a dedicated attitude. Something like this should not happen to him.

If so, then what was wrong?

If he were below, he could stand on the sidelines and shout, "George! What the hell are you doing?! Pay attention to the game!"

But right now, although he had the fans to act as his megaphone, he could not have them just shout out just any remark.

※※※

Dunn also noticed Wood's anomalous behavior. But his reaction was not the same as that of Twain. He looked down and pondered for a moment. Then he figured it out and looked up with a smile. He turned around to look for Kerslake. In a loud voice, he said, "David, can you help me tell George that Tony's in the middle of the North Stand?"

Kerslake thought it was a little strange. He asked, "Didn't you say that in the locker room?"

Dunn smiled, "Maybe someone did not hear me at that time."

Kerslake shrugged and rose from his seat. He really felt that, as an assistant manager, he was sometimes acting as a nanny. He had to deal with any matter, regardless of its importance...

After taking a deep breath, he bellowed, "Geor—ge!!"

Wood heard Kerslake's voice and turned his head to look over. He found Kerslake pointing to the north stand and yelled, "He's there! In the middle! Stop looking! I think that he must be dissatisfied with your performance!"

The remark was effective. Wood glanced at the north stand and then refocused his energy on the game.

When Messi was about to get by him, the ball bounced off the turf from his interference and knocked against the player's leg, going out of bounds. It was even ruled to be Nottingham Forest's throw-in.

"George Wood was not in form in the opening five minutes of the game, and his position allowed the Barcelona players to break through several times. But it all seems okay now! Messi had wanted to play the same old trick, but he took a tumble instead. Not only did he fail to break through, but he gave the Forest team a throw-in after Wood's close interference."

Messi also sensed the course of events had changed. He was like a zebra in the African savannah. As soon as the wind turned, he smelled a lion in the low bushes. He shrewdly looked up and glanced around, his ears pricked up and on guard.

Whether George would admit to the feeling or not, he was at peace at that very moment. Before, he had been like a lion snoozing in the afternoon, lazily lounging under the bushes, letting the bunnies and zebras hopped around right in front of his nose, too lazy to even lift his eyelids.

But when the last light of the sunset disappeared below the horizon, and night descended, their lion would rise from the shadows, its cold eyes locked on its prey. Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.

It was hungry.

※※※

When Wood re-focused on the game, Barcelona's five-minute advantage was immediately wiped out. In addition, there was the bad news—their men were completely unable to adapt to the crumbling pitch of the City Ground stadium.

When Silva ran to an empty gap on the left side and raised his hand to ask for the ball, Xavi astutely noticed that there were no Forest players marking him nearby. So, he feinted and passed the football over.

Such a pass would normally be a cakewalk for the Spanish national team's playmaker—provided that it was done on normal turf. At the City Ground stadium, his pass ultimately rolled out of bounds. Silva stuck out his leg but did not catch it, because the football in front of him suddenly bounced to the left and flew straight over the sidelines!

The Catalan commentator thought at first that there had been a mistake in the two men's coordination and regretted that they had missed out on such a good opportunity. But when Barcelona's pass-and-go plays went wrong, one after another, he realized something was wrong. When he had first seen the pitch, his only thought was that the turf was of poor quality and had some areas of exposed dirt. But now, he saw that there was a problem with the foundation of the soil under the turf!

"I don't know how the Nottingham Forest football club maintains its turf, but I do know there's not one professional football club in the world that would keep its grounds in such a state. This must be Tony Twain's idea again! This is... really poor sportsmanship!" He did not have to think about impartiality. He was a Catalan commentator, and the people who listened to him would be the Barcelona fans. He did not need to consider the mood of the English fans, so he tried everything he could to denigrate Barcelona's opponents on the show. The response was very positive at that time.

After Silva's miss, Bojan had another very good chance. He broke through Woodgate and almost faced off with Akinfeev alone. But, just as he lifted his leg to get ready to shoot, the football popped up on the uneven turf! He kicked out in the empty air, and nearly twisted the knee of his supporting leg... Fortunately, he reacted quickly and threw his entire center of gravity out in front of him. Although he cut a sorry sight, covered in dirt, he was not hurt.

Akinfeev easily saved the shot he had made.

Having gotten the football, he still remembered to smile at Bojan, who was lying on the ground.

"In the ten minutes since the start of the game, Barcelona has relied on the advantage of its ball possession after the kickoff to launch several threatening attacks. George Wood's wandering mind led to many gaps in Nottingham Forest's defense. But Barcelona has not managed to score a single goal. Their players are suddenly behaving like they cannot play football. Their performances on the pitch have been…comical. I think it must have something to do with the venue. To tell you the truth, the turf in the City Ground stadium is terrible! The Barcelona players are wearing their yellow 'away' jerseys for the game, but I reckon they'll be brown by the time we get to the halftime interval..."

Watching his team play like this, Guardiola, sitting in the technical area, shook his head. He really had no ideas. He was not superman, and could not move Camp Nou's turf to England in an instant.

He could only hope that Nottingham Forest would also be restricted by the pitch at the same time. Even if the score was 0:0 in the end, Barcelona would still advance.

Such a rotten venue was a double-edged sword. No one knew how the football would move. Sometimes the ill-behaved ball could cause trouble for Barcelona. But who could say that it would not, at other times, become Nottingham Forest's nightmare?