881 It’s Not Easy to Find a Job

The deafening sound of the song reached his ears. Twain could not tell what they were singing because his ears were filled with a booming noise as though waves were hitting the shore.

There were tens of thousands of arms waving ahead of him, and they looked like the lush Sherwood Forest.

Twain realized that he was situated in the familiar City Grounds. The stadium with a capacity of 30,000 people was totally full. However, he was not in the manager's seat at the sideline, but in the stands instead.

On the pitch below, an intense match was going on. He looked at the home team's manager's seat and was stunned for a moment as he saw himself there managing the team.

"What's going on?" he thought.

Twain looked at his hands, but he could not see anything from his hands. If that man managing the team on the side was Tony Twain, then who was he?

The other Tony Twain was standing on the sideline, both a little nervous and excited. He leaned forward with his fists clenched in front of his chest and paid full attention to what was happening on the pitch.

Twain looked beyond him and had another shock. He recognized the away jersey of West Ham United.

Why was it West Ham United?

Looking at Nottingham Forest on the other side, many of the players were unfamiliar to him. Twain did not see George Wood amongst them, nor Gareth Bale, Eastwood, Pepe… He did not see those players, not even Albertini, van der Sar or Hierro from the earlier days.

What kind of Nottingham Forest was this?

Nottingham Forest was defending while West Ham was on the offense. Twain had to squint his eyes to look for a while before he could tell from the movements that the person holding the ball was Joe Cole. Wasn't Cole at Chelsea? When was this West Ham United team from?

Joe Cole deliberately controlled the ball in midfield, or more accurately, he wanted to show off his dribbling skills before his opponents. When Twain saw this, he gave a cold snort and said, "Idiot!"

Under the press of the Forest players, he did not pass the ball, choosing to continue dribbling in an attempt to bring the ball out from within the surrounding Forest players. When the third Forest player came for the ball, Joe Cole lost it right from under his feet.

The following moments were very familiar to Twain because he had seen them happen many times before.

The Forest player who got the ball passed it to his teammate on the side, and his teammate passed the ball forward. The third Nottingham Forest player ran forward from a position level with the opponent's defensive line. The timing was perfect, and even Twain could not help but shout, "Beautiful!"

The fans around him had already raised their arms to cheer long before he said anything.

The Forest striker received the ball from behind the West Ham United's defense and the confused West Ham United players were still raising their hands in protest to the linesman and referee to indicate that this player was offside.

The Forest striker calmly struck the ball towards the far corner when one-on-one with the goalkeeper. The ball flew past West Ham United's goalkeeper and into the goal.

"Boom——!!" It felt like a ton of trinitrotoluene exploded in his ears.

"Forest! Forest! Nottingham Forest!"

This was the only sound coming from the stands.

The massive soundwave not only crashed over Twain's eardrums but also in upon his heart. He felt a dull pain in his chest on the left, and he touched it with his hand. He did not feel anything unusual, instead, he managed to feel the strength of his heartbeat through the skin of his hand.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

It was rather powerful, so powerful that it felt like it was going to jump out from his chest cavity.

With his hand on his heart, Twain's gaze fixated on the man that looked like him below.

That man was not as excited as the players on the pitch; at least, that was what it looked like on the surface. He merely looked up at the surrounding stands. The Nottingham Forest team song rang out from the stands, and Twain sang along to it—this rhythm was all too familiar to him after having heard it no less than 1000 times.

"We've got the whole world in our hands! We're the best team in the land!"

After looking around, the manager opened his arms to the songs and leaned backward, looking straight up into the sky. He seemed to enjoy this moment very much.

Twain seemed to be able to hear what that man was thinking.

"I love this noise! I love this smell! I love this stirring spectacle! I love everything here! I love football!"

In the stands, Twain also could not help but to open his arms and close his eyes, enjoying this choir that would probably sound like obnoxious noise to normal people. This was truly the most beautiful voice in the world.

When Twain opened his eyes again and the noise around him had completely subsided just like the tides rolling out, there were the faint sounds of the tides coming from outside his window. What he saw was not the green field and the stands of the stadium filled with spectators, just the white suspended ceiling above.

This was his home.

After about 10 seconds, he finally realized what was going on. He was not in the City Grounds Stadium. He was merely lying inside one of the bedrooms of his mansion in Los Angeles, Beverly Hills.

It had just been a dream.

Twain gently removed his arm that was stuck under Shania's head and then closed his eyes, covering his face with his hands.

He wanted to make himself sleep again. Perhaps, he could return to the City Grounds in 2003.

He remembered what match it was—the FA Cup on January 3rd, 2003. Nottingham Forest, which had still been in the English Football League First Division then (Later known as English Football League Championship), playing against West Ham United in the English Premier League. That was the first official match that Twain had taken charge of as the manager of Nottingham Forest, and they had fallen to a 2:3 defeat at the hands of the referee.

Twain did not know why he had dreamt of a match from so long ago. However, he very much wanted to return to the atmosphere of that match.

He suddenly missed that feeling—embracing victory with open arms amidst the cheers of tens of thousands of people. It felt like the whole world was in his hands, and he was the master of everything. It would not be wrong to say he was God at that time.

Unfortunately, his efforts were for naught. He was exceptionally alert after waking up, and he could not go back to sleep.

Twain was a bit frustrated that he could not find the feelings he had initially. He tossed and turned in bed for a while, but as he was afraid of waking Shania, he decided to get out of bed and walk towards the open windows in just his underwear. The sea breeze blew against the curtains, which ebbed and flowed in the air just like the tides outside.

Twain was lost in thought as he looked at the grey sea outside the windows.

After some time, he felt a shirt being put onto him.

"Be careful, don't catch a cold," Shania reminded him while snuggling close from behind him.

Twain held Shania's hands, feeling the warmth of his wife.

Neither of them spoke after that, and they snuggled together quietly.

Twain broke the silence after some time, "Shania."

"Hmm?"

"Sorry…"

※※※

Even though the media had indeed been stirring up news about Twain becoming the new manager of the English national team for a few days, it had just been to attract the attention of the general public—a publicity stunt. Any reporter who had any sense of reason would not think that Twain would take the position. There were many candidates for the position that the media had speculated on, and Tony Twain was the one with the lowest probability. It was very simple. Nobody believed that the Football Association would ask someone that they could not control to manage the English national team. No matter how many trophies he had won, it was not as important as being "receptive to command".

The Football Association did not announce who the candidates they were interested in were. When interviewed, they would only say things like, "He's not a bad choice" and "He's not a bad choice either".

The media was very helpful as they gave the Football Association a list of the candidates. Every candidate had a probability of being chosen at the end. Tony Twain was at the bottom of the list with a probability of only five percent. The evaluation of the experts was: "Shaun Harvey would have to be crazy. Otherwise, there is no chance that he would bring disaster upon himself."

Shaun Harvey publicly said that they would consider the Englishmen first for the position of England's manager, so no matter how impressive a foreign manager was, he would have to wait for his chance. However, there were not many Englishmen who were suitable for this position. The only people who the public thought were good enough for the position were Everton's manager, David Moyes, and the manager of England's national under-21 football team, Stuart Pearce. Martin O'Neill was not a bad choice either, but it was a pity that he was from Northern Ireland.

McClaren was out of the consideration as he had already been deemed a failure. Even though he wanted to prove himself again, the Football Association had a lukewarm attitude towards him.

Venables was capable, but he was already 71 years old, a little too old. He had also clearly stated that he had no interest in the position of England's manager.

The media combed through the whole English Premier League and they had no choice but to tragically admit that their football league was dominated by foreign managers. A high-level English manager was rare. When Tony Twain was around, people hated him, and now that he was no longer around, they finally realized that he was the only one that was holding down the fort for English managers.

The media were not alone in doubting that Twain would be the next manager for England. Even the Football Association did not think it was probable. Harvey's call to Twain was just a formality—as the best local manager, even though he had already resigned, he still had a certain amount of influence. It would simply not do if he was not informed about England's search for a new manager. So, even if they did not think it was likely, they still had to go through the motions, and when the media asked about it, they had to say, "We believe that Tony Twain is the most suitable candidate for England right now. 12 trophies in 10 years prove everything."

In his mind, Harvey thought that if Twain agreed, then either Twain was mad, or the world was.

※※※

"Why apologize to me?" Shania hugged Twain from behind and asked softly.

"Do you remember me saying that I would quit and keep you company? Now, I realize that I might…" Twain grew silent for a while as he was still very conflicted, "…not be able to do it. So, I'm very sorry, Shania."

Shania rolled her eyes as she leaned on his back, "I thought you were having an affair!"

"Er…" Twain did not expect this reaction from Shania.

"Did you really think that I fell for your lousy sweet talk, Tony? I did not believe what you said when you quit. If that was true, you would have quit when you had your heart attack."

"I…" Twain realized that Shania was right, he had no answer to respond with.

"The real reason why you left Forest was because of your conflict with Allan Adams." Shania let go of Twain, allowing him to turn and face her as she continued, "You've never thought that you would leave football."

"No…" Twain wanted to defend himself.

Shania interrupted him again.

"Ok, Tony. It doesn't matter what you think, I'm already very satisfied," Shania smiled at Twain, then changed her expression rapidly, and sighed, "From the moment I decided to fall in love with you, I mentally prepared myself for this—the love that I receive will always be a little lesser."

Twain hugged the woman in front of him.

"Sorry, Shania. Sorry…"

What could he say other than this?

He indeed felt guilty towards Shania. Because his love for football could not disappear, the love that Shania received would always be diluted.

"Are you going to call the Football Association's executive?" Shania looked up from Twain's embrace.

Twain shook his head, "No, at least not for the next few days."

"Huh? Didn't you tell me this because you've decided to manage for England?"

"I didn't say I had to manage for England. That position is not for a human being…" Twain kissed Shania's head. Harvey's phone call had merely served to make Twain understand how much he loved football. It did not mean that he was interested in that position now. Now, he instead took a good look at the invitations that he had received previously.

※※※

Shania and her husband left Los Angeles in less than five days and boarded a plane towards Spain.

There was some completely confidential news. If the Marca or Diario AS knew about it, their jaws would drop.

The piece of news was that Florentino had already contacted Twain the day after the Champions League final, asking him to be the new manager of the Galácticos. Twain was contemptuous of that invitation then, but now… He had to give it serious consideration and listen to the conditions that Florentino offered.

Both parties met for a meal, had a good chat, and Twain left Madrid.

It seemed like he was not fated to work with Real Madrid—Florentino was unable to satisfy the only condition that Twain had. Tony Twain had to have absolute authority in building the team, and nobody was to interfere with it, not even Raúl González.

This was the first condition that Twain put forward when he met the Spanish property magnate. Florentino considered it for very long before shaking his head.

There was nothing left to discuss after that. If this condition could not be met, there was nothing left to discuss.

It was a good thing that this was not publicized, otherwise, both parties would not be able to back down in good grace.

Twain and Shania flew to England straight after leaving Madrid. This was the first time he was returning to England after resigning. He was not there to discuss with the Football Association's executive about managing the national team. He was merely there to attend the wedding of Tang and Tang Jing, a very small and private wedding.

Twain was still joking at the expense of this pair of newlyweds at the wedding, saying that he was the real matchmaker and they should bow to him.

He had a lot of fun, and it appeared as though he was not concerned about work at all.

In fact, other than Real Madrid, there were also invitations from Juventus and Bayern Munich on the table. He had to make a decision quickly because the new season was going to start in little more than a month's time—the Bundesliga had only a month left.

When he was in England for the wedding, he contacted both clubs on the phone. However, the conditions that both clubs offered were unable to satisfy Twain's requirement. Either they did not want to give up full authority, or they could not guarantee enough transfer budget—Twain had enough of a tough time at Nottingham Forest. Now that he was changing teams, he did not want to experience life with a tight budget again.

Therefore, he was unable to work with Juventus and Bayern Munich either.

When Twain looked at the job openings available to him again, only the position as manager of the English national team was left.

Who would have thought that the caliber of someone known as the Godfather of Champions would end up like this? It was not easy to find a job.