[football] this god

Cristiano's prediction about "maybe see Greece again" finally came true.

"……so?"

Far away in Scotland, Mrs. Sir even took her eyes away from the suspense novel she loved so much after getting it this morning and tried to read it in one sitting, and glanced at her husband walking up and down in front of her, muttering words. .

"If you don't plan to go to the European Cup final, just give me the ticket. Helen, you know, my old classmate, wants to go with her husband." The lady said so.

The Jazz immediately started the first round of the ticket defense battle, "No! Of course I will go!"

Tickets for the European Cup finals are of course not easy to get, but it is clear that the Jazz's love for Cristiano is no secret, so those who want to flatter will naturally think of giving tickets.

two.

"But you haven't even booked your air ticket and hotel yet." Madam Jazz hit the nail on the head, "But tomorrow is the final. By the way, Helen's husband has booked a cancelable air ticket and hotel. The couple hope you decide not to go."

Jazz didn't speak.

"But I thought you would go." Madam Sir took a sip of tea and continued, "Considering your special care for that child Cristiano - from this point of view, I would think you should go. But I can't do that Say, you know, Helen wants to go to this game with her husband so badly. She will be angry if she knows I persuaded you to go."

Sir sighed, sat down, and ate a small afternoon tea cookie melancholy facing the pouring rain in Scotland outside the window.

"I hate Scotland."

The lady raised her eyelids and glanced at her husband from the newly published suspense novel in her hand, "You actually start to hate Scotland now? You were taught badly by England, my dear."—she opened a harmless Joke 【1】.

"I just wanted to say I hate the rain, but the correct spelling of rain is Scotland, so, I hate Scotland." Sir sullenly, "I can't decide whether to go to Portugal or not. It's all about the continuous heavy rain in Scotland - it makes me indecisive." .”

"If you can say the word indecisive, it means that you are indeed very indecisive." Mrs. Sir carefully marked the book with a bookmark, and then put it aside properly - she decided to give her husband 5 minutes, "Scotland It rains all these times, but you have only recently become indecisive—which means that the rain has done nothing wrong, it is your own fault, my dear."

"You shouldn't break an old man's heart like this, ma'am." Sir put his feet on the footstool, watching the rain and fog, "I would like to go to Portugal, but you see, the rain in Scotland will not allow the plane to take off .”

The lady gave her husband a sharp look, and easily saw through the excuse. "You just didn't dare to go—though I don't know why you didn't. Don't tell me you have any shadow of the plane."

"I don't really like airplanes much, though," Jazz said.

"That's probably because you're old-fashioned." Madam complained about him, "However, I noticed that you haven't answered the question yet."

Sir looked at his wife, he seemed a little hesitant, as if there was nothing in this world that could make him worry about his wife.

"Should I count to three?" Sir Madam asked very gently - exactly the same as when you were a child and said to your children, "The teacher called me, now we have to talk".

Jazz now understands the children's feelings very well.

“All you can say to her is, good mother—there’s no choice.” That’s how the children used to describe their feelings.

"Well . . . " said Sir, "I'm just a little worried—not a big deal, just a little worried."

"Worried about Portugal not being able to win the championship?" The wife quickly understood what her husband meant and was surprised by it.

Even the conferment of the Queen could not make Ferguson have a centimeter more affection for the England team, and even the results of the Scotland team are far less important to him than the career of Manchester United-but such a person is now worried about whether Portugal will win the championship?

"Maybe, I know he has to learn to fail - in a football country like Portugal, he should learn to be sad, but I'm afraid to see him sad. I like to see him proud, I don't want to see him disappointed." Jazz thought After a while, "Although I admit that tomorrow's game against Greece is an excellent opportunity for Portugal, I'm still a little worried."

Mrs. Madam wanted to say something, but before she could speak, she saw Sir's cell phone light up, "It's Cristiano." - Madam reminded her husband who seemed not to notice the cell phone.

Sir glanced at it, smiled at his wife, picked up his cell phone and walked away to answer the call.

Madame didn't know what was said between Sir and Cristiano - no one but Sir and Cristiano knew.

All she knew was that when her husband came back to her, she seemed to have turned back into the familiar Sir Alex Ferguson, her husband—he was gentle but undeniable, "Kathy, my lady, we should pack up and get ready." Went to Portugal. I'm sorry you had to apologize to Helen and her husband."

Sir Madam happily agreed.

She doesn't care about Portugal's win or loss, nor does she care about any player on both sides. She is just happy to see her husband become the decisive Ferguson again.

Although Helen and his wife were very sorry, they still wished the Jazz and his wife well. By the way, they also handed over their air ticket and hotel reservations to them—"Cathy, I know you didn't make a reservation. It would be too troublesome for us to cancel the reservation." Well, so, just do us a favor... Needless to say thanks, dear, and good luck to Portugal - oh well, the whole world knows why your husband wants to go to Portugal."

is not that right?

It was as obvious as a louse on a bald man's head.

But even so, Mrs. Jazz was surprised by something quickly the next day, the morning of the finals.

"Casey, I want to take you to see Cristiano. I have inquired about it. The Portugal team's bus leaves the hotel at 9:30 in the morning. I plan to arrive at their hotel at [-] o'clock." Jazz said.

The lady thought that her husband had made an agreement with Cristiano, so of course she agreed.To be honest, she also wanted to meet the young man who got the sweater she knit as a gift on her birthday—the Jazz had never asked her to knit a sweater for one of their players as a gift in all these years.

But when they appeared in the hotel lobby at nine o'clock, Mrs. Jazz couldn't help being a little dissatisfied with Cristiano's delay in showing up-she had never seen such a player who had an appointment with the coach but was late with such peace of mind, but What made her even more dissatisfied was that her husband didn't seem anxious at all. He just sat in the lobby and let the reporters gathered here waiting for the Portuguese national team to take pictures.

It was 9:25 when Cristiano left the hotel restaurant behind Figo and the others, and he was looking at his mobile phone.

"Good luck." — that was what Messi texted him this morning.

He hesitated whether to reply now or after the game, so even though he heard the noise coming from the lobby, he didn't take it to heart.

"Hey! Cristiano! Look!"

He heard Figo say this—By the way, Figo hit him hard on the shoulder, which was too much, Cristiano rubbed his sore shoulder and thought angrily, if I were ten years older I can bounce you away, believe it or not?

But he still looked up and followed Figo's line of sight.

Then, he stared dumbfounded at Sir who was walking towards him with a smile, and was hugged by Sir who opened his arms in a daze.

"Sir, sir? Why do you..."

He stopped suddenly.

"I'm excited, but I don't think it's right, because I'm so excited, I feel like every detail of the world is magnified by my senses. I know it's wrong, I know I should calm down, but it seems very Difficult.” He already regretted it when he called Jazz yesterday, but it was too late, when he realized what he was talking about, his words had already been spoken, “I keep replaying some pictures in my mind... ..."

He stopped abruptly at this point, because he couldn't explain what was playing in his head any further.

He couldn't explain the painful tears he "saw" the Portuguese fans, couldn't explain every touch of the ball and every poor judgment of "that" game he played over and over again in his mind, let alone explain His resulting excitement about the chance of revenge.

The group stage was just a dessert before the meal, and now the real opportunity for his wound to heal and stop bleeding came, and he was both excited and worried.

These are not conducive to victory, he knows it well, but he is powerless to suppress and change it.

Blame the hormone levels and the bad shadow of the Euro 2004 final - so Cristiano thought.

"Then do something to divert your attention - watch your favorite movie, or just have a cup of tea."

"Of course, I will." Cristiano didn't want to make Jazz worry any more, but before he could stop himself, he said again, "I want to hug you, Jazz."

"Will this calm you down?"

"Maybe."

"Okay then, I will."

I will.

Now Jazz is standing here just to come over and give his kid a hug to calm him down.

Cristiano buried his face in the Jazz's shoulders -- nasty hormone levels, he seemed to be the crybaby of 2004 again.

"Cristiano, I see it." Jazz kissed the top of his head quietly, and then whispered in his ear, "I see the god of war perched on top of your head, the goddess of victory kissing the instep of your feet - no one can stop you. You are The devil in Greek mythology is the warrior in Portuguese legend."

Cristiano hugged Jazz tightly, and after a while he suddenly smiled.

A very peaceful smile.