Godfather Of Champions

With a ding sound, there was a rush of footsteps in the direction of the elevator, and Dunn, who was sitting on the lobby window and drinking tea, turned his head.

The players who took a short break are coming out of the elevator, and some are still yawning. Des Walker walked out of the players quickly, then turned around and looked at the elevator, urging loudly: "Hurry up, hurry up! Don't look awake, it's not tea time!"

After determining the goal and direction of the team's struggle this season, the man also regained his passion for work overnight.

Dunn looked down at the watch on his wrist. At 13:55, the team started at this time, just in time. He put the teacup in his hand back on the table, folded the newspaper on his knees and put it back on the newspaper rack next to the seat, then got up and walked towards the hotel door.

It is almost two o’clock in the afternoon on December 17th. They are at the Scarton Hotel in South London. A red bus with "Nottingham Forest" and the Forest Team logo on the body is quietly parked at the door, waiting for the ride. They went to their destination Newdon Stadium.

Seeing the head coach standing by the door without saying a word, the players trot up unconsciously and seized the time to get into the car. Some players don't understand, why they just defeated the direct competitor Crystal Palace in the league, but the coach is not happy?

Since training began on the second day of the game, almost no one has seen Coach Tony Dunn smile.

All the players got in the car, and Walker walked to Dunn and said to him, "Tony, everyone is here."

"Well. Where's the coaching staff?"

"They are leaving first, with equipment."

Dunn nodded: "Okay, let's go too."

Just when he was about to step on the car door, he suddenly heard someone calling him behind him. "Mr. Dunn! Wait a minute! Mr. Dunn, wait a minute!"

"Ah, Bruce." Dunn turned to see Pierce Bruce, a Nottingham Evening Post reporter who ran out of the lobby with a black leather case in his hand, panting. "What's matter?"

Bruce ran up to him with his hands on his knees, bowed his waist and gasped for breath. After a while, he got up and looked at the bus. He intermittently said to Dunn, "I'm... sorry, can or can't let me take it. Get off the car?"

This request surprised Dunn. "Let the reporter get on the team's bus...Bruce, your request is really...out of the ordinary."

"Really, I'm really sorry... I slept, and my colleagues have gone. He... they must have thought I was leaving first." Bruce explained awkwardly.

"You can call a taxi." Dunn pointed to the street outside.

"I... I put my wallet in my bag and my colleagues took it..." Bruce said blushing.

Dunn sighed, looked at this poor hapless guy, and thought about how he often said good things to himself in the newspaper. Now that he is in trouble, he can't justify it without help.

Walker got into the car and found that Dunn hadn't followed. The players all turned to look out the window again, so he jumped out of the car again. "What's wrong? Tony..." He saw the Evening Post reporter standing next to Dunn. "Bruce, this is not the time for an interview."

"Mr. Walker, I am not interviewing..."

Dunn interrupted him and said to Walker: "He is a poor ghost who was abandoned by his companions because he overslept. Now he has to take a ride."

Then he waved to Bruce: "Get in the car! You have to be glad you are not a woman..."

There are some taboos in professional football that cannot be ignored no matter which country they are in. For example, there is an absolute prohibition for women and players to ride the same bus. That would be seen as an unlucky sign of failure. That's why Dunn said that. If Bruce is a female reporter, then even if Dunn agrees, everyone else on the team will firmly oppose allowing a woman to get in the car and go to Newdon Stadium with them-everyone will become very sensitive before important games. And superstition.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Dunn! And Mr. Walker, thank you..." Bruce thanked the two coaches gratefully, and wanted to shake hands, but Dunn slapped him into the car.

"Don't talk nonsense! We have been delayed long enough. If you want to thank you, please continue to help us speak nice things in the newspaper!"

"It must be..." Bruce stumbled into the car and saw a group of players looking at him with curious eyes, and he waved hello in embarrassment. "Hello, everyone... I, uh, I..."

Just when he didn't know why he was ashamed, Dunn came up from behind and pointed at him and said loudly to the players: "This guy is a hapless Evening Post reporter who has overslept and has no money!"

"Woo—" gleeful hiss and laughter suddenly sounded in the carriage.

"Mr. Reporter, tomorrow's "Nottingham Evening Post" front-page headline must not be the news of our promotion to the League Cup semi-finals, but you!" Some players shouted loudly, which caused even greater laughter from the players. Even Dun En had a smile on his face. He patted Bruce on the shoulder and motioned for him to sit down beside him.

"No matter what you see or hear in this car. I don't want to see it in the newspaper the next day. I just give you a ride, not allowing you to interview."

Bruce nodded: "Don't worry, Mr. Dunn. I know what I should say and what I should not say."

"That's good, I let you get a ride because I trust you." After that, Dunn stood up and raised his arms, shouting loudly, "Drive! Let's go to Millwall's home court and **** those bastards!"

"Oh——!!!" The players waved their fists in unison, and the sleepiness of just getting up from the bed was swept away.

Bruce secretly wiped his sweat. No wonder Dunn didn’t let him poke what he saw in the newspaper... These things, maybe only in the future when he retired and planned to write a book about Nottingham Forest or Tony Dunn, or he It’s only when your own personal biography is disclosed.

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The red bus is passing through the congested traffic flow of London highway. At this time, any road leading to Newdon Stadium is estimated to have high traffic flow. Others didn't pay much attention to this game, but Millwall fans living nearby did it very seriously. They flocked to Newdon Stadium from all directions to watch the League Cup quarter-finals. Half a season has passed, Millwall is still in the middle of the league standings. Looking at this situation, it is difficult to rise to the super in this season, so they pin more expectations on the "unpopular hotbed" of the League Cup and the FA Cup. on.

Along the way, you can see cars carrying Millwall fans passing by the forest team. Those fans wearing blue and white Millwall jerseys will poke their heads out of the windows when they see the red forest team bus. , Ciya waved her fists at them grinningly, raised her middle finger, and yelled aloud vulgar words that can be understood only by the shape of their mouths.

Dunn would think of Mark Hodge when he saw these people. The middle-aged man, who usually looks nice and friendly, will turn into an abominable beast once he gets into the stands when he gets into the stands. But even so, he is still far behind the football hooligans in Millwall.

After Gavin's accident, Dunn never heard the man's name again, and he never went to the Robin Hood bar where the football hooligans meet. Maybe Hodge has left football, just like Michael did; maybe he is still active in the stands, but he is an ordinary fan; maybe now he is leading his men on a camera and police in the metropolis of London The corners that can't be taken care of, the Millwall football hooligans who defeated them on the "battlefield" last season went to war, for their glory...

These people are not only in football, but also a dark spot in the entire British society, which is almost impossible to eradicate. No matter how the government cracks down on them, the grassroots and rooted football hooligans will always follow the development of this sport, just like the shadows under our feet. Maybe some people will sympathize with them and understand them, just like the original self. There will even be people who support, admire, and want to join them and become the new football hooligans, waving their fists, and fighting for the honor of their club and team.

Since the beginning of the 21st century, the domestic football hooligans in the United Kingdom have shown signs of recovery. They have learned to gather teams on the Internet, discuss strategies for fighting against hostile organizations and the route to their destination, which makes the police impossible to prevent. Dunn is not a saint who loves everything in the world, nor can he stop these young people whose brains are filled with a mixture of muscle and alcohol. He just hopes that a tragedy like Gavin will not happen to him again, last time he regretted not stopping that fight in time. Now he doesn't allow anyone to hurt his friends and everyone in his life.

Dunn, who had recovered from his contemplation, suddenly found that the scene he saw outside the window had not changed for a while, and he turned his head strangely to look at the front and then at the back.

The car stopped, and all around were cars that stopped like them.

"Dess, what's the matter?" he asked Walker in front of him.

Walker turned his head and shrugged at him: "I don't know, we are stuck here."

Dunn stood up and looked inside the car. The players didn't seem to notice the strangeness. They were all busy with their own affairs. Listen to songs, close your eyes and rest, call or chat with your teammates.

So he sat down again. He doesn't know what happened before, anyway, there is a traffic jam, and now he has no choice but to wait patiently. Hope is only temporary, don't delay the start of the game for a while.

He cast his gaze out of the window again. The head of the traffic was not visible at the front, and the rear could not be seen at the back. There are cars all around, even if he wants the driver to turn the car away, he can't find another way out.

The anxious car horns outside the car sounded more and more frequently, and Dunn was disturbed by these sharp and harsh sounds. A sense of ominousness suddenly appeared in his heart, like dark clouds in the sky, accumulating more and more.

When the driver of the bus couldn't help but honked his horn irritably, the players in the car gradually began to notice the situation outside. Some people stood up and looked around, some took off their headphones and pointed out the window and discussed with others, while some opened their eyes from a nap and looked strangely at the stagnant traffic outside the window. Dunn noticed the small commotion in the carriage. He looked back, then waved and pressed down, and said loudly, "Sit down and continue to do your business!"

The cabin was quiet again, but Dunn could not erase the puzzled and surprised expressions on the players' faces.

And the dark clouds in his own heart are gradually gathering because of the continuous horns of cars outside and the traffic that shows no signs of re-advancing.

He looked down at his watch. It was half past two.

The kick-off time of the game is three o'clock exactly!

At this moment, Walker's cell phone and Bruce's cell phone rang at the same time.

Walker looked at the number and said to Dunn: "It was brought by the coaching staff..." Then he pressed the answer button.

Bruce also looked down at the number, and said sorry to Dunn, "It's my colleague..." Then he got up and walked to the front of the car to answer the phone.

"Hello? You are all here... we? We are still on the road..." Walker looked up at the motionless street scene outside the car window. "The traffic jam...very serious! Yes, why? They all started to warm up?" His voice became anxious, and he looked at Dun En at the same time.

Dunn looked down at the watch again, one minute passed, and only twenty-nine minutes left before the game started!

Damn it! He cursed in his heart.

On the other side, at the front of the car, Bruce’s voice changed from small to louder: "...Yes, sorry, Mr. Robson, I slept... I am now? I am in the same car with the Forest Team, and I took the ride. Their team car...no, I think we are in a traffic jam. What? A car accident!?" Bruce couldn't help screaming loudly, then he turned to look at Dunn apologetically, hoping he was not angry. "Are you sure, Mr. Robson? Yes... well, I don't know if I can..." He looked at the players who had all stood up, and didn't go on.

The players in the car could no longer be quiet at this time, they stood up in a little panic and looked around, whispering.

Dunn no longer asked them to be quiet, in fact he couldn't ask for it. He turned his head to look out the window, the more restless horns in his ears. He forced himself to calm down in this environment. At this time, everyone in the team turned their attention to themselves, and the hope was all on themselves. He was the team's head coach, and everyone would choose to trust in times of emergency. He must not show the slightest panic.

Suddenly he saw a building similar to the entrance of an underground pedestrian tunnel on the street in front.

He got up from his seat and walked to the driver. Asked: "How far are we from the stadium?"

"About five miles, sir." The driver replied, looking at the map displayed by the GPS satellite locator on the car.

Dunn nodded: "Please open the door!"

Then he turned to the bewildered players in the car and said: "Guys, now there is good news: you don't have to warm up on the court in a while." He pointed to the opened door, "There is also a bad news: Leave all the bits and pieces of your body in the car, and then run all of them for me! Let's take the subway!"

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