875 Showing His Hand

"Shall we head downstairs for a drink?" Tony Twain asked the two people in front of him as he pointed in the elevator's direction.

Evan looked at Alan before shaking his head, "No, I think it'll be full of football players down there at this hour, and it won't be suitable for us to appear. Let's go to your room, Tony."

Tony Twain shook the key card in his hand and replied, "Alright. However, I can't offer you two anything else aside from a few bottles of mineral water." He turned to the two guests as he stood before the door to his room.

Evan smiled at him, but Alan remained emotionless. Evan, who was standing beside him, looked like his bodyguard.

Twain invited the two in after opening the door to his room. He walked in last and shut the door after them.

"What an exciting match, Tony," Evan congratulated him first. At the Bernabéu, Tony Twain had been either surrounded by reporters, lifted up by his team and paraded around the stadium, or he had been receiving his medal. Evan Doughty had had no way of getting close to him.

"We lost one man to a red card, and the match could have gone either way." In Twain's opinion, even though the match had been intense, it hadn't been exciting. He took out three bottles of mineral water from the minibar in his room and tossed two of them to his guests. Then, he twisted the cap of his own bottle open and emptying half of it down his throat.

"What matters most is that you won!" Evan replied happily. He was destined to become the most successful club chairman throughout Nottingham Forest's 149-year history, and he could even become known as its "greatest" one. "Aside from that, how will you handle the matter of Pepe's red card?" Evan asked, not in a hurry to get to the main topic at hand. "Will you try to get it appealed?"

Twain looked at Evan, who was purposely trying not to reveal his true motive, and laughed. "Appealed? That red card was justified, and it'll be perfectly normal for UEFA to issue a fine. The club should accept whatever decision the officials make. As for the others... they're not your concern, Evan. You wouldn't enjoy battling it out in a war of words with those media reporters," he said, signaling that he would deal with things.

"Alright, I can guess what you're going to do," Evan said, shaking his head. "However, I should warn you not to go too far."

"I know my limits," Twain replied, gulping down another mouthful of cool Evian water.

"Your limits..." Evan laughed bitterly. It was all he could do; Twain seldom asked the club to clean up after him.

Come to think of it, in all these years, the club had never involved itself in Twain's squabbles with the media and didn't concern itself with either party. Twain had succeeded in focusing the public's attention on his temper and character, instead of linking the issues at hand to the club. In short, his successes were attributed to the club, but when his reputation suffered, it had nothing to do with the Nottingham Forest Football Club.

Twain walked up to the glass and opened it before turning the air conditioning off. The night breeze rushed in, causing the curtains to puff up. The wind on the 11th floor of this building was rather strong.

The noise of the crowded streets drifted into the room along with the wind. The mixture of cars honking and fans' drunken chants blended in the wind, sounding surreal.

"How refreshing," Twain said as he opened his arms as if to embrace the night.

"Hey, Tony. Do you have any plans for vacation? I'm not talking about stuff like heading to Brazil to give a talk about the World Cup, mind you," Evan kept beating around the bush.

Tony Twain was not in a hurry either and took his lead. "I'll be with my wife, and I'll go anywhere she goes."

"You're truly a great husband," praised Evan.

Twain shook his head in disagreement. "I'm only able to spend time once a year with her. I'm not a great husband. I don't even know if I have fulfilled my responsibilities as a husband." If it were not for the fact that he had to portray himself as the authoritative head coach in front of his players, he would have brought Shania back to his room for some intimate time alone together.

They chatted aimlessly in this manner, while Alan Adams remained silent during the whole conversation. He sat beside Evan like an invisible person, drinking mouthful after mouthful of mineral water.

Perhaps, after sensing that Twain was finally getting tired after the intense match earlier on, Evan finally broached the issue at hand. "In truth, both Alan and I are here to discuss your new contract, Tony."

Upon hearing the words "new contract", Alan discarded his invisible armor and fished out a stack of paper from his attaché case, passing them to Evan Doughty.

Twain's lips curled. What was to come would come, and no amount of small talk would be able to stop it from happening.

"You told me that you didn't want to talk about contract renewal before the Champion's League campaign was over. I'm pleased that it has concluded, and even more so that we've won it. Now, the club would like to offer you a new contract - an entirely new one that was drawn up after the competition ended, mind you. Alan put in a lot of effort into this." Evan Doughty knew that Twain and Alan were at odds with each other, and he was trying to rekindle their relationship.

Twain did not look at Alan, nor did he reply.

"You'll stand to gain many more benefits. If you sign it, you'll be the highest-paid manager in all of England!" Evan Doughty said excitedly. He was not known to be generous, but he had a thorough understanding of Tony Twain's significance to the Nottingham Forest Football Club. If they could keep him, they would be able to win back any amount of money they spent on him – who ever heard of a champion who worried about finances?

Twain reached his arm out toward Evan, who hurriedly passed the contract over while he continued describing the wonderful future Twain would stand to achieve once he renewed his contract, "...we'll move into a spanking new stadium next season, and our ticket prices will be increased. However, Nottingham is too small, and we have plans to expand into overseas markets. You've won the treble at just the right time! Now, the transfer market is open, and our resources have been boosted. You'll be able to get whomever you wish!"

Twain ignored Evan's emotionally charged speech and lowered his head to skim through each clause in the contract. Evan was not lying; it was much more generous than any of his previous contracts. If he signed on it, his annual salary would be as high as 7.5 million pounds. Even though it would not make him the highest-paid manager in the world, he would be very far ahead of his fellow managers in the English Premier League. Wenger's annual salary of 5 million pounds would not even compare.

That salary didn't include the perks of being crowned champions. To the Godfather of Championships, winning titles was a piece of cake, as was obtaining prize money.

However, Tony Twain did not think much about all these things. Even though he did not value money highly, he had many ways of earning it. The salary the club gave him was only one of them.

Aside from his salary, he also had many endorsement deals with companies like Armani, the FM series of video games, Gillette razors, and Ray-Ban sunglasses. He had even signed a contract with BBC television station to work as a special guest analyst during the BBC's live telecasts of the England national team's matches, which gave him another source of income. Besides, sales of his autobiography "10 Years" were doing well, and it was ranked among the top three most popular books in England for five consecutive weeks. In fact, it had been number one on the bestseller list for two weeks. Everyone was extremely curious about England's most peculiar and mysterious manager. Compared to all of these activities, the fees he collected for occasionally writing essays for various media outlets were not even worthy of mention.

He hadn't asked for a raise when he signed the previous, 8-year long contract with the club, and he led the way for his players. His supporters thought of him as the only coach in commercial football that wasn't materialistic, and some people also thought that his passion for Nottingham Forest Football Club was not measurable in terms of money. In reality, he hadn't asked for a raise because his 2.7 million pound annual salary was only one-tenth of his total annual income.

Twain glanced over the clauses mentioning his income quickly, hoping to see that he would be guaranteed more authority. If they were written in black and white, he would still be able to produce proof to protect himself in the unfortunate event of legal issues with the club.

This would be the last chance he was giving the club.

He was disappointed, however. His authority as a manager was not stated in any clause in the contract. Perhaps, Evan did not think that there was a need to state the obvious since managers in the Premier League wielded the most influence in the world of football, even though it had been watered down in the last two decades. Or maybe, he did not want to state it in fear that Twain would use it to hold the club responsible in a dispute. There was also a likelihood that this was Alan Adams' idea; hadn't Evan mentioned that Alan drafted the contract? Why would he include anything that would diminish his own power?

Twain shook his head lightly and returned the contract to Evan.

Evan had not expected that Twain would return the contract to him untouched. Earlier, he thought that Twain would sign it without hesitation after looking at the figures he would be earning.

"Um, Tony?" Evan asked somewhat dazedly, not taking back the contract immediately.

Twain lowered his head as if having made a very big decision. He used the same amount of effort to raise his head and smile at Evan. "I'm not planning to sign the contract, Evan."

Evan Doughty thought he had not heard Twain clearly and stared wide-eyed at him, trying to deduce if there was a possibility that he was joking from his smile.

Twain guessed Doughty's intentions and replied, "Stop staring, I'm not joking." He positioned one leg on top of the other, taking a good look at the still shell-shocked club chairman. He turned his gaze to the calm-looking Alan Adams behind Doughty and pitied him.

Alan did not have any intention to speak, and Twain remained silent after saying his piece. Evan was still in a state of shock, causing the entire room to fall into silence. It was not an awkward sort of silence, however, because all three of them were thinking about different things. Noise from the street had died down a little. Probably, the cops, who were supposed to maintain law and order, had finally decided to act.

Time passed by and Evan recovered from his shock. He began to ponder why Twain would reject the offer, his expression continually changing. Of course, he could have already come up with an answer, like how Alan forcefully sold Lennon one year ago, causing them to become enemies. Then again, how could he still be so focused on something that happened a year ago? Wasn't this too petty? People had to look forward to the future, and let the past be the past. "If he stays with us, what title or football star would he not be able to get? What was one Lennon compared to all that?" he thought.

However, he did not know that Twain did not care about Lennon or Messi, but rather that his authority had been directly threatened and challenged. He was idealistic like that, and if such an incident had happened once, they would continue occurring, and it would eventually drive him mad.

If those crazy Arabs who owned Manchester City forked out 100 million pounds to purchase George, Twain was unsure if he could make the star stay. This was because Alan would make sure to get involved; from a purely commercial viewpoint, 100 million pounds could bring in three top-class midfielders who were only slightly less skilled than George. Why wouldn't that be a good deal?

Businessmen would never get it; football was not a numbers game. Some things could never be purchased with money, and had Manchester City won a trophy with all its riches and splurging? They were perpetual losers who could not even win the League Cup!

Evan pondered and observed for a long while. He noticed that both Alan and Tony did not have any intention of making peace with each other, and he began to speak, "I think there must be some misunderstanding here, Tony--"

Twain shook his head. "I'm tired, Evan. All I want is some rest and to stay at home with my wife. I want to take care of her needs, just like a stay at home husband." He wanted to show his cards, so he added, "I don't see eye to eye with Alan, and we don't have to force ourselves to work together if we have differing viewpoints. Let's just seek different paths in life from now on." Evan changed his approach before the words left his mouth.

"You'll have vacation time."

"Less than a month's worth of vacation time cannot repay Shania for what I owe her over the last 11 years," Twain said very seriously, without any hint of sounding perfunctory. This was because he spoke the truth.

However, Evan did not believe the reasons that Twain had just given him. He frowned and kept shaking his head, "Oh, please, don't be like this, Tony. No manager has ever left his post at the age of 45 for such reasons. You're still young, okay? You can achieve even greater things, as long as we remain a team, don't you agree? Of all clubs in the Premier League, no, in the entire world, Nottingham Forest is most suited for you to display your talents. We need you as much as you need us."

"I agree," Twain nodded, grinning. He spoke the truth.

There was a group of players who he had personally cultivated here, and his most ardent supporters were also from this club. There were media people who praised him and played mind games with him, and a club chairman who did not have much influence and did not care about what he was planning most of the time. He might only be able to find two of these things in another football club. There was only one Nottingham Forest in the entire world, and it was entirely unique.

Alan Adams might have been the only bad thing in the club for Twain, but he was a lethal thorn in his side. Twain would never scream at Evan and force him to choose between himself or Alan, like a jealous woman in some eight o'clock soap opera on television.

He knew how important Alan was to Evan, as a co-founder and a friend for many decades. Even if it came down to choosing between the two of them, Twain was sure that a distant relation like himself would never stand a chance.

"I only wish to rest. So, even if Nottingham Forest is the only club that's suitable for me in the entire world, it is still a no, Evan."

Evan believed that Twain would rebut him, and he was prepared to ask him if it would really be better to go to a club bigger than Nottingham Forest. After so many years, he had long discarded his initial plan of achieving G14 status for the club. Of course, this was directly connected to the dissolution of G14 by UEFA.

"I'm not going to Manchester United, Evan. I'm not going anywhere. Hmm, maybe I'll go to the States; Shania's career is based there. However, I'm not going to coach there. Do they play football over there? I'm clueless about American Football," Twain said, turning his palms up, expressing a 'relaxed' pose.

Evan stared at the grinning Twain as if he was trying to see straight through him.

Twain stopped talking.

Both of them stared at each other for a while before Evan got up from the sofa. "I hope you'll take some time to consider, Tony. There's still a month before your contract is up, and this contract..." he patted it for effect before continuing, "...you can keep it."

He was about to leave.

Twain got up to send his guests off. "Don't waste your effort, Evan. Spend the time looking for my successor. I'm quitting. I'm serious," he said in a very serious tone.

Evan did not reply and merely left with Alan.

He remained silent until they both stepped into the empty elevator. He only erupted in anger after the elevator doors were tightly shut, "Fuck! How could he do something like that?"

Alan remained silent by his side and listened to his old friend and boss unleash his displeasure.

"Who does he think he is? Does he think he's that great after winning three titles? How could he reject an annual salary of 7.5 million pounds? Tell me, Alan!"

Evan Doughty turned around in a whirlwind and stared at Alan Adams.

"Tell me, did I wrong him in any way? I cleaned up after him while he spoke arrogantly! I fulfilled all of his requests, and he has become the Supreme Emperor of Nottingham Forest in the eyes of the media. Who still remembers that I'm the club's chairman? But I didn't care. I don't care about such things! I only want him to continue managing this football club, and to win trophies for us! Yet, he's still unsatisfied, he--fuck him!"

Evan punched the gold-plated walls of the elevator, causing it to tremble. The entire elevator seemed to be shaking.

"Alright, I know what he's actually thinking about. What was that bullshit about accompanying his wife? He's only trying to complain that he doesn't have enough authority. How much does he want? Does he want to directly replace me as the club's chairman? If that happened, no one would be able to control him." Evan laughed coldly all of a sudden, before continuing, "The media has created an image of him as the 'King of Nottingham Forest', and he bought it. It's laughable!"

The elevator stopped moving with a 'Ding!', and the doors opened slowly. They were on the first floor now.

Evan did not turn to look at his companion, the rage long gone from his face. No one could tell that he had just unleashed a volley of vulgarities in the elevator. "Alan, prepare a shortlist of potential successors. I want to see it by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. Then, we'll start looking for the next coach," he said calmly.

Alan nodded before realizing that it would be more prudent not to show Evan that he was understood the situation all too well. As such, he asked, "Aren't we going to wait for June 30th any longer?"

"A new coach, new plan, and new formation will take time to meld. It'll be too late if we wait until then. We'll have lost out to our competitors."

Evan walked out of the elevator as he spoke, with Alan behind him. The two of them walked past the great hall and out the entrance, diving into a black sedan that had been waiting for them and disappearing into the night.