877 A Storm Brewing

Twain was lying on the big bed at home. He was awakened by the morning sun.

"Good morning, champion manager."

Shania laid next to him, drawing circles on Twain's chest with her hair.

Twain squinted his eyes as he looked out the window at the bright white sunshine and groggily asked, "What time is it?"

"9:47." Shania glanced sideways at the small alarm clock placed on the bedside table and continued to play the game of tracing shapes with her hair across Twain's chest.

Twain watched Shania and felt a warm feeling rise within his heart.

This was the most important person in his life, so he could not hide it any longer.

"Jor."

"Hmmm?" Shania was a little surprised, and she stopped her hand movements. It's important to know that although "Jor" was Shania's nickname, Tony rarely called her by that name. He had always called her by the name "Shania" since they first met.

"Have you thought about where we're going for the holidays?"

Shania recovered her composure and continued to draw circles as she said, "We can go to Brazil. Besides, the World Cup is being held in Brazil and you have to do the commentary for the games. We can also visit my parents on the way, and then we'll do our own fun things. After that, you can go do your commentary, and I'll head to America." Shania had already thought through their plans, began arranging them.

"That's a good idea," Twain agreed with Shania's arrangement. Nevertheless, he still had a question, "So what about after the World Cup?"

"Huh?" Shania stopped what she was doing again and looked up at Twain. "Don't you have to be back to the team then? Your team starts to gather on June 20th." Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.

Twain smiled and watched Shania without answering. The more Shania spoke, the more she felt that something was off. She stopped talking and stared at Twain, her expression implying the question: "Do you have anything you want to tell me, Tony?"

Twain reached out and gently rubbed Shania's head with his hand as he said, "Well, my contract with the club is soon going to expire, and I'm not going to renew it." His tone was calm as if he was talking about something of no great consequence.

Shania's reaction was not calm at all. Now, she pushed her body up from the bed with both hands, opened her mouth, and stared wide-eyed at her husband.

"I'm going to have a lot of time to spend with you." Twain smiled and spread his arms wide open to draw Shania into his embrace.

Shania laid on top of Twain's chest, still trying to make sense of it. She said, "This... You're not lying to me, are you, Tony?"

"Today is not April Fool's Day." Twain pretended to be angry.

"Well... why are you doing this? You've just won the Treble for the Forest team." Shania still did not understand. It was reasonable to say that having just won the Treble, this was the peak of Tony's career. How could he choose not to renew the contract at this time? "You're not going to another team, are you? Like Manchester United or something..."

Twain continued to laugh, "Did I not just say that I'm going to have more time to spend with you?"

Shania turned her head sideways so that she could see Twain's eyes as she asked, "What's the reason? I don't understand why you are choosing to resign now of all times."

"Firstly, I will have more time to be with you. Secondly..." Twain hesitated for a little while before he continued, "There is a conflict between Allan Adams and I. It's a conflict that affects my work. But he and the chairman have a close relationship, so obviously I am the one who has to leave."

Shania knew that her husband was at odds with the marketing manager. When Allan Adams forcefully sold Lennon, Twain came home angry for several days, which caused Shania to worry for a long time that he would have another heart attack. As a result, she did not have a good impression of Allan Adams. This justification Tony gave was enough for her to assure herself that she was dreaming and that Tony wasn't pulling her leg.

"If you want to resign, just go ahead and resign. My Tony is the greatest manager in the world, and the people who want to hire him will line up from London to Paris." Shania held her chin in both hands as she laid on the bed with both her feet swaying behind her.

"Hey, Shania. I'm talking about spending more time with you," Twain reminded her with a little surprise.

Shania glanced at Twain and said, "If it's true, then that's fine."

Twain wanted to explain himself, but Shania had already jumped out of bed. She said, "I'm going to cook for you. Are you hungry?"

After asking, she skipped as she ran out.

Twain laid in bed. He did feel hungry. But what he cared more about than the noise rumbling in his stomach was that Shania did not believe what he said.

He laid back on the bed again, feeling deflated as he looked at the ceiling and sighed.

What a failure. He had won so many championship titles that all he had to do was say he would win a title, and the media, fans, and players would all believe it. Yet, when he wanted to make his wife happy, his wife did not believe him.

"Ah, it's easy to take the champion title but so hard to charm my wife," he thought.

※※※

Italian football's Serie A was long over, and Inter Milan, who failed to reach the Champions League final, was dismissed the day after the league tournament ended. As the manager of the team, Mourinho was even less likely to stay at Milan to continue working, even if he was a workaholic. Now, he was basking in the sun on the beach in his hometown of Setúbal Municipality, Portugal's third-largest port city.

With his chest bare and wearing only a pair of printed shorts, the world's highest-paid manager was lying on a white beach chair with sunglasses on. Next to him was a glass of whiskey with ice cubes floating in it on a small round table. His cell phone sat next to the glass, and underneath the phone laid an opened book.

There were plenty of tourists on the beach, most of whom came with their families for a holiday to relax. However, Mourinho was alone, but not because he was at odds with his wife. He just wanted to enjoy his time alone. Sometimes he liked to be this way. Whether he was contemplating a problem, or when he had nothing in mind, he loved to have quiet time that only belonged to him, and with which he could do anything without anyone to disturb him.

Unfortunately, his time undisturbed today did not last long.

The cell phone on the round table rang.

Mourinho did not pick it up at first. He laid motionless in his chair as if he were asleep. Besides, he wore sunglasses, so no one could tell if he was asleep.

The phone rang for a while before it was automatically cut off. Mourinho did not even turn his head throughout the whole process. He was still contentedly enjoying his time alone.

Very soon, the phone rang again, and it was not cut off for a long time. After lying on the chair for some time, Mourinho finally sat up impatiently. Instead of getting up, he reached out to touch his cell phone, put the Bluetooth headset on his ear, and pressed the answer button to say, "Hello."

José!" It was the voice of his agent and good friend, Mendes. "I have the latest news, which I think you'll be interested in."

"Is it still about Manchester United?" Mourinho's voice was languid, like the afternoon sun.

Before the end of the season, the English and Italian media had begun speculating about the rumor that Manchester United was interested in asking Mourinho to take over Martin O'Neill's position. Turns out, it was not a rumor. The walls had ears, and no secret could stay secret forever in the world. Tony Twain could try to hide that he did not renew his contract with the club, but the news did not escape The Sun. The affair between Mourinho and Manchester United was naturally harder to hide from the all-knowing reporting company.

As Mourinho's agent, Mendes had closer contact with the Manchester United Football Club. Manchester United wanted to rejuvenate its glory, so it needed a big-name manager of high quality and prestige. O'Neill's ability was decent, but he could not control the locker room. Originally, Tony Twain was the most suitable candidate and was handpicked by the godfather of Manchester United, Ferguson, to be the successor. However, Twain had no interest in any team other than Nottingham Forest. Only then did Manchester United consider Mourinho because they knew the relationship between him and Inter Milan was not unbreakable.

Although Mourinho had the world's highest salary for a manager at Inter Milan, he had not been happy there. Italy's football environment was completely different from the English Premier League. As a team manager, he felt that he had too many restrictions. It was like he was walking around with shackles on his neck, wrists, and ankles. He could not talk about a lot of subjects because once he said something one day, the media embellished it the next, and then President Moratti would look for him to have an "intimate, long talk" the following day. The rival managers had always thought Mourinho was not as great as he was perceived to be, and that he was just a regular manager who talked big and had an unorthodox background. Mourinho could achieve the highest salary only because he sold himself well, while the Italian academic type of managers felt that it was beneath them to do so. For them, football was football and was not to be diluted by anything else. A manager's job was to train the team, develop tactics, and direct the game. To become the team's number one star would take focus away from the main attraction.

Sometimes he sincerely missed his time in England. Although the club president there liked to criticize and give orders on short notice, Mourinho could still breathe more freely there.

Like the sea breeze here, the freedom belonged to him alone.

"No, it's not Manchester United this time." Mendes's voice over the phone sounded different from the usual. Perhaps the signal was somewhat distorted during transmission, or perhaps it was because Mendes' mood had changed.

Mourinho soon knew the answer to that question.

"There is a football club that has joined the ranks to compete for you." Mendes tried to keep his pace of speaking close to normal, but he was talking a little faster than usual. It was easy to hear that he was very interested in this matter himself.

"Oh –" Mourinho did not even raise his eyebrows. His tone was still languid. He did not ask which team. Such things happened all the time, whether it was Real Madrid or Manchester United. They had been interested in him for a long time now. He reached out to pick up the wine glass on the table.

"It's also an English Premier League team." Mendes was trying to maintain the suspense, even if Mourinho would not cooperate. "This team has just made headlines in major sports media..."

Mourinho's hand had almost touched the glass when he stopped in surprise. His other hand pushed his body up. It was the most he had moved since answering the phone.

He certainly knew which team Mendes was talking about.

"Nottingham Forest? How is that possible?" Mourinho was so surprised that his voice became much louder. The laziness he felt just now had been swept away, all of which was cleanly evaporated by the afternoon sun.

Mendes smiled and was very pleased with his friend's reaction. "I have another piece of news, which is related to this."

"What?"

"The contract renewal talks between Tony Twain and the club have collapsed, and he decided not to renew the contract. He will leave automatically at the end of his contract."

Mourinho had now surpassed surprise. He was shocked. He maintained his posture, his left hand supporting his body and his right hand reaching out to the wine glass.

"The talks fell apart? Was the salary too low?" It was the only reason Mourinho could think of. As one of the most successful managers in the world of football, Tony Twain's pitiable salary had always been incomprehensible to people. Mourinho hadn't understood either.

"No. I got the news from another source that Nottingham Forest offered him the highest annual salary in the English Premier League history."

The Portuguese coach was completely baffled. Twain was not satisfied with the highest annual salary. What more did he want?

"If you want to know the reason why, you can call him, José. I only know these details. Twain has kept this matter as top secret, and now the media are waiting for him and the club to announce the success of his contract renewal." As a friend of Mourinho's, Mendes naturally guessed what he was thinking then.

Hearing this last sentence, Mourinho's lips curled up. He knew that Twain was playing with the media.

But he would not call Twain. As he had said many years ago, as long as they were both football managers, they could only be enemies and not friends.

After he ended the call with Mendes, Mourinho laid back down again and continued to enjoy his alone time. Unfortunately, now his mind was no longer carefree, but in turmoil like a storm at sea.

That guy, Tony Twain left Nottingham Forest where he had been for eleven years. What the hell was he thinking? Nottingham Forest has just achieved a great accomplishment in the Treble win. It was now time to take center stage and lord it over others. But the manager left instead. What would the future hold for this team? It was truly worrying.

Yet, Mourinho was not concerned about these things. He cared only about which team Tony Twain would take over after he left Nottingham Forest. In his view, Manchester United was undoubtedly the most likely. Manchester United had always been interested in working with Twain. Previously, it was because Twain did not want to leave the Forest team that they were unable to recruit him. But now...

After thinking for a while, Mourinho suddenly stopped focusing on the situation at hand, thinking, "Isn't this supposed to be Tony Twain's problem? What am I worrying about it for?"

Just as he was clearing the mess in his head and preparing to continue his vacation, his cell phone rang again.

He thought it was Mendes with the latest news again, so he put on his earpiece to answer the phone. The voice that spoke was familiar and yet strange, and it sounded excited, "Hey, José! I want to set up a time for you and me to have a drink together!"

Mourinho stared blankly for a moment and then realized that the caller was the man who had just been on his mind – Tony Twain.

"Did you not quit drinking after the heart attack?"

"For some people, it is necessary to drink together. Other beverages will not do. Anyway, it's just this one time."

"I recall saying that as long as we're enemies in football..."

Twain interrupted Mourinho's words to say, "Well, I've already resigned from Nottingham Forest!"

"Manchester United has an open position."

Twain smiled and said, "I've heard that they're more interested in you. Anyway, I'm not going to continue as a manager."

Mourinho was stunned by Twain's words. Then he came up with a reason again - it must have been because of his heart. "But I'm in Portugal now."

"It doesn't matter. I know you're going to do the commentary on the World Cup for the Portuguese television station. So am I. We'll meet up in Brazil!" Twain took Mourinho's words as if he had agreed to his request for a drink.

Mourinho wanted to say something more, but Twain had already hung up the phone. Judging from his voice, Twain was in high spirits. It was strange that he could still be in such a good mood after he left something that he had poured eleven years of hard work into.

He shook his head and laid down again. This time he succeeded in taking a nap without any phone calls to bother him again.

※※※

The next day, the media finally got the news they had been longing for – the Nottingham Forest Football Club was going to hold a press conference to announce the latest news concerning its contract extension with Twain!

It seemed that Twain had not deceived them. He carried out the work on the contract renewal after the Champions League final. There was a result after just three short days.

However, when the large group of reporters came to attend the press conference in high spirits, they found that only Evan Doughty was on the stage without the other important party, Tony Twain.

Discussions quickly broke out throughout the room. In the crowd, Pierce Brosnan had an ominous hunch which grew stronger with the discussions.

The press conference was brief.

With a grim face, Evan Doughty announced the news that the contract renewal talks between the club and Twain had been terminated and that the two sides would not renew the contract. It instantly shocked all the reporters present. Even The Sun reporter, who had already caught wind of the news beforehand, was stunned at the rumor's confirmation.

Then Evan Doughty looked back on Twain's contribution to the team and said that no matter what Twain did or where he went in the future, he was a man that was forever etched in the Nottingham Forest Football Club's memories, and Doughty wished him good luck.

Having said that, Evan Doughty got up and left, ignoring the reporters who were shouting his name in the back.

The reporters were, of course, full of questions. Why did the negotiations for the contract renewal fail? Which party was responsible? Nottingham Forest had just won the Treble but suffered a major change. What was going to happen in the future? Who would succeed Tony Twain? Where would Tony Twain go after leaving the Forest team?

But no one would answer these questions for them.

The venue suddenly became chaotic. Someone rushed out of the door and sped away. He wanted to hurry back to be the first to release this piece of news which would shock the world of European football.

Pierce Brosnan pulled out his cell phone somewhat in a daze and dialed Twain's number directly.

No matter how many times he dialed, all he heard was, "... Sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service..."

※※※

When a tropical storm formed over the Atlantic Ocean, Tony Twain was sitting on a recliner at Copacabana Beach in Rio de Janeiro. His wife, Shania, was frolicking in the water in a bikini in front of him, while he was earnestly writing a postcard with his head down.

His cell phone was placed next to it, but it had been turned off long ago.

"Dear David: If you receive this postcard, you must know what has happened. Thank you very much for the eleven years you've spent with me. You were a good helper and partner in my work. I'm very sorry that I took my anger out on you whenever I was in a bad mood. But from now on I promise I'll never yell at you again. You're a great assistant manager. You've done a great job with the team. I hope you can continue to do that. The team can't survive without you. Please forgive me again for saying goodbye to you in this way, because I don't know how to face you all again..."

Twain stopped when he wrote to this point and looked up at his wife not far away. Brazil's sunshine was so bright that he had to squint his eyes to admire her energetic, sexy figure. He lowered his head again to continue writing.

"... I wish you all the best. Your most loyal friend, Tony Twain."

After he finished writing it, he picked up the next blank postcard and placed it on his lap. He continued to bow his head, occasionally lifting it to look at Shania's figure for a moment.

The weather was good today. The salty, damp sea breeze brushed against the branches and leaves of the palm trees by the sea. The wind prompted wave after wave of the azure sea to surge on the pure white, fine sand beach with the crashing sounds of undulating tides. The warm sunshine shone on each person's face, highlighting their different expressions. Contrasted against the sapphire-like sky, the Copacabana Beach was bustling with activities and people. It was extremely lively.

This was a holiday.