Chapter 93

A beautiful hook silenced the entire audience stands.

The previous boos seemed ridiculous, as an incredible overhead kick defeated all the contempt and doubts in the stands.

The lines of Cristiano's stretched body are so full of vigor and power that it is a visual feast.

Ferguson was watching the live broadcast of the game at home. He saw Cristiano's overhead kick, which was so beautiful that he couldn't help but cheer for the boy at home!

Martin took a sip of water as usual and passed by. He glanced at the TV and saw Cristiano's game appear on the screen.

"Wow, he jumps really high." Martin's eyes widened slightly, and he couldn't help but stop to watch the playback of this shot. "He can really jump, father, you have to let him compete for the header."

Ferguson raised his eyebrows and looked over.

Martin cleared his throat and joked, "I know his corner kick accuracy is exciting, but it's such a waste of his jumping ability to take a corner kick, haha, it's like he's just suspended in the air!"

Ferguson laughed heartily at his eldest son's exaggerated description. He cursed with a smile and waved his hand to indicate that he had already made arrangements.

The little Portuguese on TV was sweating all over, with red eyes due to intense running and the excitement of scoring a goal. He was grinning at everyone. Ferguson narrowed his eyes, as if he was infected, and looked at the screen with smiling eyes. He was really worthy of being the boy he had chosen!

But as the broadcast camera turned to Scolari who was excitedly clenching his fist on the sidelines, Ferguson's expression immediately changed, and he turned down his mouth with a look of disgust.

Martin watched his father's changing expressions throughout the whole process. He couldn't help but shake his head. His father and Scolari were really the kind of coaches who hated each other.

On the other side, the live broadcast of the World Cup qualifier was also being played in the dormitory hall of Manchester United Club.

The game happened to be played in the evening in England. After the evening training, Pique and Alan, who occasionally chose to stay in the dormitory, sat in the hall playing poker, with the TV on as background music.

"Ronaldo was maliciously pushed and the referee gave a verbal warning!" The commentator's background sound played, and "Ronaldo" could be heard three or four times in ten sentences.

Alan turned his head to look at the TV and curled his lips: "Cristiano is fouled wherever he goes."

"I've said it before, the Portuguese team lacks a sword-wielding bodyguard, someone like Ferdinand and Keane, otherwise Cristiano will be targeted sooner or later." Pique said as he played a pair of cards, and the next second he heard Rooney's wailing.

He looked over and saw Rooney throwing his hands up at him speechlessly: "Please?! We are teammates! Why are you knocking on my cards?!"

"Oh, I'm used to it." Pique shrugged, looked at Alan, and asked, "Do you want a card?"

"Pass." Alan waved his hand casually and grinned at Rooney.

Rooney rolled his eyes at Pique.

Ferdinand also passed the card. He glanced at the other side of the TV and saw that the defender on the opposite side had his face flushed red and was glaring at the Portuguese angrily, without stopping his mouth and hands.

Rooney followed Ferdinand's gaze and smiled: "Ronnie is good at making defenders angry."

"Any defender would have a headache when facing Ronnie." Ferdinand said, "Remember the friendly match before Ronnie came to Manchester United? The one we played against Lisbon... oh sorry, I forgot you guys weren't here at that time."

Ferdinand smiled, showing his superiority as Ronnie's big brother. He raised his eyebrows and said, "I was there at the scene, but I was sitting on the sidelines. I saw him rushing here and there flexibly, making our defender O'Shea run around in circles."

"I can imagine it." Alan laughed, and the picture popped up in his mind.

He was somewhat interested and asked Ferdinand: "What happened next?"

"At halftime, O'Shea came over to get some water, and I told him to defend more seriously - you know that game was not Manchester United's style at all, and then that guy panted and pointed in Ronnie's direction unhappily and said to me -" Ferdinand also laughed, thinking of what happened that day, he imitated O'Shea's tone and lowered his voice, "Are you serious? If you have the guts, come on and defend that kid."

Pique laughed.

"Later, O'Shea told the boss that we must buy Ronnie and never let him be taken by Wenger. He didn't want to face Ronnie as a rival in the defender position again." Ferdinand grinned and spread his hands. "So, you see, now, Cristiano Ronaldo has appeared in Manchester United."

Pique blinked when he heard this: "Luckily Chris is not at Arsenal."

Alan and Rooney nodded in agreement.

They were chatting excitedly when the commentator in the background suddenly raised his voice again: "Cristiano Ronaldo hook!!!"

Hearing the sound, the four people all looked towards the TV.

I saw the boy wearing the No. 17 jersey on TV quickly get up from the ground and run to the coach's seat, nodding vigorously and saying something loudly. His face looked like it was painted with blush because of the intense running, his sweaty black curly hair stuck to the side of his face, and his eyes were surprisingly bright.

The broadcast on the screen gave Cristiano a close-up, as if it knew how much the tens of millions of viewers in front of the TV liked to watch such a scene. However, not long after, the close-up was cut away and the previous goal was replayed.

Ferdinand shouted, "Wow!" and waved his arms: "This ball!"

"The goal is valid!" Alan stared at the referee's reaction on the screen and said quickly. He grinned and applauded Cristiano. "Good boy, this should be Chris's first overhead kick, right?"

"Should be?" Ferdinand responded, "It's beautiful!"

Rooney looked at him with some envy: "He looks so good when he jumps, with long arms and legs."

Pik's eyelids twitched.

Alan glanced at Rooney and said nothing.

Cristiano's kicking movements are always beautiful to watch. Alan believes that this is due to his tall stature and good head-to-body ratio. Especially when shooting, the angle formed by the supporting foot and the kicking foot and the arc of the kick are like a painting.

He doesn't feel any envy for Rooney. It doesn't matter what method is used to score a goal, the key is to score effectively.

Azerbaijan equalized the score in the second half of the game. Scolari originally planned to replace Cristiano in the second half, but just as the substitution was about to be made, an unexpected goal threat made Scolari give up the idea.

A one-point lead isn't enough insurance.

Cristiano played the full 98 minutes and tenaciously kept the score at 2-1, which lasted until the end of the game.

The Portugal team successfully qualified!

He thanked the audience with Figo and others in high spirits, and raised his head to applaud himself and his teammates. Figo, Deco, Ricardo... The teammates hugged each other tightly and encouraged each other loudly.

This is an end and also a beginning. Two months later, the official group stage of the World Cup will kick off for them!

This will be the final curtain call for Portugal's golden generation.

Yuyuan

Cristiano was squeezed in the middle by his older teammates, with his ears filled with the boiling and noisy shouts of excitement - Portugal's qualifying rate in the history of the World Cup is pitifully low. Even just qualifying is a big step worth celebrating for Portugal!

The national team teammates planned to go to the bar to celebrate the victory of tonight's game, and Scolari readily agreed.

Cristiano did not participate and returned to the hotel early. He first sent a message to Kaka, telling Kaka that he had returned to the hotel and his plans for tomorrow.

After receiving the message, Kaka immediately called Cristiano, but the two didn't talk for too long. Kaka heard Cristiano's tired voice on the other end of the phone, so he whispered to Cristiano to go to bed early.

Cristiano had just come out of a cold water bathtub to soothe his muscles, and was feeling tired. Now, listening to Kaka's lowered voice on the phone, it felt more like hypnosis.

He responded to Kaka's words, his voice getting lower and lower: "Figo and the others played very late... Well, I didn't go. Figo and I slept in the same room... Yes, I even left the door open for Figo..."

Kaka listened patiently to his lover's increasingly soft and vague words on the other end of the phone, and replied slowly in a slow voice until the only sound on the other end was the even breathing.

Kaka curled up the corners of his mouth, kissed the microphone lightly, and whispered, "Good night, Cris."

Sweet dreams, my boy.

He hung up the phone.

After Figo and his group of older brothers carried the drunk teammates back to the hotel, Figo watched all the players return to their rooms peacefully before he went back with peace of mind.

He turned the doorknob and the room was quiet. The rooms here are generally not large and two beds can be seen from the door. Figo saw at a glance that their No. 17 was quietly curled up in bed and sleeping very soundly.

Figo subconsciously slowed down his pace and walked closer to take a look.

When Cristiano sleeps alone, he likes to wrap himself up like a cicada pupa. His sleeping posture is very honest, occupying only one side of the bed, but most of his face is sunken in the soft white pillow, and his little black curls are obediently and neatly sticking to his face.

Figo couldn't help but smile and shook his head slightly. The poor boy was obviously very tired. After all, he had just finished a league game two days ago, and this game lasted more than 90 minutes.

He thought about it, picked up his clothes, and tiptoed out the door.

Before going out, I took a silent photo.

He closed the door and knocked on the door of Deco and Costa's hotel room. Costa yawned and poked his head out: "What's the matter?"

"Can I borrow the bathroom?" Figo said as he walked past Costa and into the room.

Costa tilted his head in confusion and asked, "What about your room? Deco is washing it."

"Chris was asleep and I didn't want to wake him," Figo said.

Costa raised his eyebrows: "Oh - what a warm and caring captain."

"If you saw Chris sleeping, you would also choose to come out and use the bathroom." Figo sat casually on the chair and raised the photos on his mobile phone.

Costa came over to take a look, and immediately exclaimed "Wow", and urged Figo to post the photo in the group.

"Send it to the group that protects Little Strawberry." Costa reminded - Cristiano must not be allowed to know that he was secretly photographed.

Figo nodded and proudly shared the photo he took.

[Figo: [Share photos]]

[Costa: What is this? These are our little strawberries from Portugal.

[Ricardo: Poor little Cristiano, you must be so tired [good boy]]

[Carvalho: Figo, there is something wrong with you]

[Nune: Wow Figo, go and pinch it, it looks like his face is very easy to pinch]

[Nune: I’m coming right away]

【Carvalho:? Then I want to come too.]

[Figo: [Angry] No one is allowed to come]

[Figo: No one is allowed to disturb Cristiano's sleep]

【Nune: Okay╮(╯-╰)╭】

【Carvalho: ……】

Costa quietly saved the photo.

Tsk tsk.

He had to use this photo to get something for himself, as compensation for his hard work in covering for the young couple during this period of time.

He narrowed his eyes and turned to send a private message to his club teammates -

[Costa: Kaka, I have an exclusive photo of Chris, the captain of the national team]

【Kaka: Rui? Has your account been hacked? 】

[Costa: :) Why do you think the hacker knew your relationship with Chris? 】

【Kaka: ……】

【Kaka: A photo of Chris? What does it look like? 】

[Costa: Breakfast, lunch, dinner and laundry basket supervision for a week, plus no mention of 'Cristiano' in front of me]

[Kaka: ...The latter part is a bit difficult, why don’t I take care of it for you for two weeks]

[Costa: Deal [share photo]]

Kaka immediately received a photo. He clicked it to enlarge it and felt his heart was struck - Cristiano's curved eyelashes, Cristiano's sleepy and red face, Cristiano's shiny lips...

His lover was buried in the soft white blanket, and he could already imagine what it would feel like to hold her in his arms.

He sighed softly, somewhat regretfully but also somewhat contentedly, saved the photo, and then sent a message to Costa -

[Kaka: Rui, can you delete this photo from your phone? 】

[Kaka: I can go three days without mentioning 'Cristiano' in front of you :)]

【Costa:? 】

[Costa: ...Speechless]

///

Cristiano flew alone the next day, flying directly to Chelsea, the city where the second leg of the next Champions League semi-final would be held, to avoid consecutive flights - just sitting on the plane was tiring enough.

While waiting for the flight, he took out his phone and looked through the messages he hadn't responded to the day before, then opened a chat box -

【C: We have qualified for the World Cup qualifiers】

There was silence on the other end of the chat box. Cristiano scratched the back of his head. He didn't know how to comfort his good friend who he grew up with.

Quaresma was still not called into the squad by Scolari this time.

He still remembers when they were both at Sporting Lisbon, they always trained and played together.

They all came from poor backgrounds, and after practice they would run out to the street together, to the back door of a burger shop, and shamelessly ask the clerk for leftover burgers - they were always hungry.

They would also do odd jobs during their breaks from training, usually sweeping the streets or washing cars for rich people on the street. They not only played football, but did everything else.

But despite all the difficulties, Quaresma would lend him his newly bought sneakers, and he would share the strawberries and gloves sent by his mother with Quaresma. They also skipped classes together. Later, he took Quaresma to Mendes.

- Perhaps it was this closely connected childhood that allowed them to establish an unconditional trust that could not be replaced. Cristiano knew that no matter how far he went, he would never have to worry about Quaresma being jealous of him.

Later he moved to Manchester United and Quaresma moved to Barcelona. Although their contact is much less than before, they always keep in touch.

Cristiano hoped that Quaresma could be included in the squad this time, but Scolari obviously did not do as he wished.

The phone suddenly rang twice in succession——

[Q: Great, Chris! I watched yesterday's game, it was a great match! 】

【Q; I wanted to call you after we were done, but I thought you looked tired? 】

Cristiano's eyes lit up, and he immediately called back. When the call was connected, he said, "If you want to call me, just call me. I always have the strength to answer the phone."

"Haha, Chris, I can imagine you pouting and complaining right now, still the same as always." The big boy's hearty laughter came from the other end of the phone, "But don't you have a Champions League game next? I want you to have a good rest."

"Ricardo, can't you store more things in your mind?" Cristiano rolled his eyes. He always felt a strange familiarity with friends of the same age, but every time they talked on the phone, that strange feeling strangely disappeared.

In his impression, this most familiar friend is just like him in his previous life, no longer young, but always loves to laugh and make jokes. Quaresma is his most trusted friend, and they always fight side by side for Portugal.

"Come on, it's your fault that you have so many little expressions. My mind is almost filled with these useless things, unless you clear them out for me. But if I forget about you, you will definitely cry your heart out of breath." Quaresma smiled and retorted unceremoniously.

Cristiano was originally worried that his friend would be depressed because of the World Cup, but now he is not worried at all. Quaresma's self-healing ability is like weeds.

"Go away." Cristiano cursed with a smile.

The two of them joked around on the phone for a long time until the boarding reminder sounded in the terminal hall.

"Are you at the airport?" Quaresma asked.

"Yeah, I have to go to the next away game. I have to board the plane." Cristiano stood up and stretched his waist, "Then I hang up."

Quaresma responded: "Okay, have a good rest, I will watch you in the next game, play well."

"Do I need to tell you that?" Cristiano wrinkled his nose and laughed, then hung up the phone.

Cristiano arrived in Chelsea at four o'clock in the afternoon of the same day, and the next evening, Ferguson also arrived in the city with Manchester United's main players.

"How do you feel?" Ferguson looked at Cristiano.

He looked it over carefully, making sure that damn Brazilian coach hadn't ruined his number seven.

Cristiano was held by Ferguson's arm and couldn't help grinning. He nodded and said, "I had a good rest these two days."

"What you said doesn't count yet. Go and do a physical test later." Ferguson tapped Cristiano's head and he smiled.

Cristiano nodded in agreement and went to attend the evening training.

He had taken a physical fitness simulation test in the system's virtual space the day before, and the test results showed that his current physical condition was only enough to barely run a whole game, which was not his best condition.

Cristiano was unsure how much of his form data would return before the game.

He pursed his lips, choosing to put these unpredictable things behind him, and still maintained his usual daily training, including muscle-relaxing physiotherapy and physical training in the space.

Before facing Chelsea in the second leg, Cristiano underwent professional physical testing by the club.

"He is in good physical condition to play a full 90-minute game," the fitness trainer said affirmatively.

Sir Alex Ferguson nodded slightly, and it was not until the last second before the game started and the deadline for submitting the starting lineup that he decided to put Cristiano in the starting lineup.

He had no doubt that Cristiano could give 100% of his effort and fight for victory without reservation, and that was not the reason for his hesitation.

He hesitated only because he was worried that Cristiano's body would be consumed prematurely and irreversibly due to frequent use.

The club's fitness trainer, physiotherapist and nutritionist, and their reliable logistics team provided many suggestions and responses, which helped Ferguson finally make up his mind.

"Okay, Ronnie, go on the field." Ferguson looked at the young boy who was eager to play on the sidelines. He smiled and said, "The Champions League is your stage. I can't take it away from you, right?"

Cristiano blinked.