Chapter 70
Early in the morning on the 4th, Lampard drove his car and stopped downstairs of Endrit's house. After honking the horn a few times, he suddenly remembered that his coach lived next door. So he immediately rolled up the car window, looked out the window guiltily, and when he didn't see his coach, he took out his mobile phone and called Endrit.
"Hey, I'm downstairs at your house, come down quickly."
"I was eating. Why did you come so early? Did you eat breakfast?"
Lampard listened to the sound of Endrit drinking soup on the other end of the phone, hesitated for a second and said decisively: "Although I have eaten breakfast, I can still eat it if I eat it now."
"Then come in and have something to eat. I'll go out and wait for you now!"
Lampard agreed, got out of the car and walked downstairs to Endritt's house.
"Lampard! I'm here!" Endrit jumped twice at the door of Mourinho's house and waved to Lampard.
Lampard walked over stiffly and stood in front of Endrit, his voice a little erratic, "Are you having dinner at the coach's house today?"
"Uh..." Endrit raised his head and thought for a while, "I only came here to eat this morning. Usually the coach brings me food and I eat in the car."
Lampard was silent for a moment and then silently raised his thumb. Then he touched his stomach and said regretfully: "I just came down to enjoy the breeze for a while. Now I don't feel so hungry, so I won't eat and will wait outside..."
"I told the coach," Endrit interrupted Lampard, "Matilde should have served you hot soup."
Lampard couldn't refuse, so he went into the coach's house with Endrit. Under Mourinho's gaze, he drank a bowl of hot soup and ate a sandwich.
"Is it delicious?" Endrit tilted his head and looked at Lampard, "I made this."
"Delicious." Lampard gave a thumbs up. "You are very talented."
"Try this again," Endritt picked up another smaller sandwich and handed it to Lampard, "How does it taste?"
Lampard opened his mouth and took a bite, frowning, "This..."
Endrit leaned over to Lampard's ear and whispered quickly and quietly: "The coach did it."
"It's delicious!" Lampard finished it in one bite. "I think the taste is very imaginative, it's my favorite taste! It's a pity there are no more, otherwise I could have another one!"
Endrit covered his face with his hands, unable to bear to look at it: Just one compliment will do! Why add the last sentence?
Five minutes later
Lampard opened the car door holding a sandwich, his face full of relief, "Luckily I reacted quickly and said I would bring it to my teammates on the national team to try, otherwise I would have died in the coach's house today. Didn't you make it together? Why is the taste so different?"
"Who knows?" Endrit sighed, "Maybe God opened a door for him, and then closed a window for him. But do we really have to go so early?"
"I'm going to take you around the training base first," Lampard said casually, "Isn't this your first time there? You need to get familiar with it."
Endrit hummed softly, "Is there a place where it's more convenient to fish?"
Lampard chuckled and raised his eyebrows at Endrit in an exaggerated manner, "With Coach McLaren away, it's easy to slack off anywhere."
The national team's training camp is located in Staffordshire, England, which is home to the world's most expensive national football training base: St. George's Park.
"When we get there, let's go to the gym to practice. By the way," Lampard turned to look at Endrit, "how many pull-ups can you do in one minute?"
"I haven't tested this, have you?"
Lampard raised his chin slightly and said proudly, "26!"
"I don't believe it," Endrit curled his lips, "unless you show it to me later."
"Why not?" Lampard looked around. "Where's Wright-Phillips? Why hasn't he arrived yet?"
"You want to make a phone call?"
"I don't have his phone number," Lampard looked into Endrit's questioning eyes and raised his eyebrows, "Do you have one?"
Endrit silently retracted his gaze, "So far, I think I only have your number, because we were going to contact each other this morning."
"That's normal. I only have a few calls from my teammates," Lampard reached out and patted Endrit's shoulder. "Anyway, during the season, we basically see each other every day. During the off-season, no one wants to see each other."
The two waited at the gate of the base for a while before Wright Phillips hurried over.
Before anyone even got there, Wright Phillips' words floated over, "I haven't had breakfast yet, so I'm going to the hotel here to eat something. Do you two want to go eat together?"
Lampard grunted, "I have a sandwich here, do you want some?"
"Sandwiches? Sure!"
So the three of them returned to the car, Lampard took out the bag from the car, took out the sandwich and handed it to Wright-Phillips, who didn't think much about it, opened it and took a bite directly.
"This is coach Mourinho's own doing."
Wright Phillips was stunned for a moment, then swallowed the sandwich in his mouth with difficulty, "Delicious!"
Endrit and Lampard looked at each other and laughed out loud.
"Let's share it," Endrit held out his hand to take the sandwich, "divide it into three and each of us can eat a little and solve this problem."
Lampard then said, "Then we will accompany you to the hotel for dinner."
Endrit raised his hand. "Finally, let's go to the gym and see who can do the most pull-ups!"
"It should be me. I can do thirty."
"Thirty? What are you bragging about? I can still make sixty!"
"No, you're exaggerating. If you can get 60, wouldn't that be a world record?"
…
Half an hour later, the three of them appeared in the gym.
"There was no one there, I knew we were too early!"
"Stop talking nonsense. Let's compete."
Wright Phillips went first because he was the most exaggerated and said with certainty that he could do thirty.
"One, two... nineteen, twenty, twenty-one! The time is up!"
Wright-Phillips let go of his hand and jumped down, clapping his hands in regret, "I just finished eating, my hands are weak."
"Stop making excuses. What does this have to do with eating?" Lampard stretched out his hand and pushed Wright-Phillips away. "Let me do it!"
Endrit continued to count, "One, two... twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two! Time's up!"
Endrit handed the timer phone to Wright-Phillips, and pushed Lampard away, who was still muttering, "I ate too much this morning, which affected my performance," and said, "Let me do it!"
Lampard and Wright-Phillips looked at the time together, "One, two... twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five! Time's up!"
"Hey," Endritt jumped down and touched his stomach with his hand, "I had a good breakfast. I performed exceptionally well!"
"You're eating well?" Wright Phillips was a little envious. "What did you eat this morning?"
Lampard made a face and said, "I ate the sandwich made by the coach, but I ate it too. Why can't I eat it today? No, I want to try again."
"Then I ate it too. I want to try it again! It must have been an accident just now!"
The two took turns trying again, but the second result was much worse than the first.
"This must be because I just wasted too much energy!"
The two of them said the same thing in unison. Endrit stood aside with his arms folded and said "tsk" loudly: Childish!
After the three of them stayed in the gym for about half an hour, they walked around together, no, they gave Endrit a brief introduction to St. George's Park. Finally, at half past nine, they stood on the field where McLaren had agreed to train together, and it was discovered that the three of them were actually the first to arrive.
At around ten o'clock, McLaren's assistant arrived at the stadium and asked the three players who had arrived earlier to warm up.
After that, several familiar players came one after another. Unexpectedly but also reasonably, almost every new player took the initiative to greet Endrit.
"You're in trouble," Lampard patted Endrit on the shoulder. "If you don't keep a clean sheet in a training match later, do you believe that these guys will tell the media that you are not good enough after leaving St. George's Park?"
Endrit was confused, "Huh?"
Wright-Phillips nodded slightly, agreeing with Lampard, "I would do the same if we were not on the same team."
Endrit silently looked up at the sky, "Then let's hope we don't have to play a training match today."
"I don't think we can play," Lampard glanced at the players who came to the training base today, "they are not all here."
At half past ten, national team coach McLaren arrived at the stadium.
Although there were only eleven players on the scene, he still announced that a training match would be held at eleven o'clock.
"The six of you are Team A, and the five of you are Team B."
Lampard stood on Team A and glanced at Endritt who was on Team B, and gave him a sympathetic look.
McClaren asked Carson to be the goalkeeper of the A team and gave Carson a chance to break away from famous and capable players such as Lampard. Let Endrit be the goalkeeper of Team B, and specially arrange teammates for Endrit who are often substitutes in the national team. They are not weak, but not as good as the players of Team A.
"Ritter," McLaren walked up to Endritt before the start of this nondescript training match, patted him on the shoulder, and said earnestly, "You are our England goalkeeper. I think you will not let us down, right?"
At this moment, Endrit wanted to rudely spit in McLaren's face, but he couldn't. He could only nod - nodding without smiling was the last of his stubbornness.
In order to show his support for Endrit, McLaren stood on the sidelines closest to Endrit and blew the whistle to start the training match.
The six players of Team A are striker Crouch, midfielders Lampard, Wright-Phillips, Gerrard, defender Lescott and goalkeeper Carson.
The five players of Team B are forwards Bent and Defoe, midfielder Hargreaves, defender Brown and goalkeeper Endrit.
The player configuration was very unreasonable, and McLaren blatantly cheated by designating Team A to kick off first.
Team A forward Crouch rushed straight into Team B's penalty area with the ball from the wing. Defender Brown was unable to defend against Crouch alone. The latter quickly made eye contact with Endritt in the penalty area, raised his foot and shot!
A shot with a very fast speed, heading straight for the upper right corner of the goal.
As soon as Crouch kicked the ball, Endritt moved sideways to the right, then jumped up and ran towards the football with his arms raised high.
Crouch stared at the football, ready to take a shot at any time.
But Endritt didn't give Crouch this chance at all: when he was at Chelsea, he had four defenders, but most of the time he chose to hold the ball in his arms and didn't give the opponent a chance to make a follow-up shot. What’s more, this is a training match that made him speechless, with only one defender defending in front of the goal?
If he dared to save the ball, not only would Crouch be busy with the follow-up shot, but his good teammates Lampard and Wright-Phillips would probably not miss this good opportunity for a follow-up shot.
But if he only touched the football with his fingertips, he could only hit the football away. So before jumping, Endrit took a step forward, leaned his head forward slightly, stretched out his arms, slapped the football towards himself, and then pressed the football in his arms with his hands when he fell.
In order to prevent the back of his head from hitting the crossbar behind him, Endrit kept his head slightly sticking out, and only stood up straight after landing on the court, took a step back and threw the football to his teammate Bent in front of him.
"beep!"
McLaren on the sidelines blew the whistle, stood within Endrit's sight and gave him a thumbs up.
Endrit pulled the corners of his mouth expressionlessly, replaying the save in his mind, tears flowing silently in his heart: What's the difference between that posture just now and that of a little turtle that just crawled out of a creek?
[Host, the little turtle stuck its head out because it has a shell on its back...]
'Shut up! '
The little turtle has a shell on his back, but doesn’t he have a big black pot on his back?
Endrit took a deep breath and calmed himself down a little, then he found Crouch rushing into the penalty area again with the football.
Defender Brown, who was indistinguishable as to whether he existed or not, stretched out his hand helplessly and watched Crouch fly past him and kick the football in the air.
The angle of the ball was very straight. For most goalkeepers, the excessive force brought by the ball might make them unable to bear it and let the ball drop. But for Endrit, this shot was simply a warm gift for him. He didn't even move, he just spread his legs, squatted slightly, and caught the shot steadily in his arms.
Endritt couldn't help but give Crouch an admiring look: Very good, very good, that's how to shoot!
Five minutes later
Under Endrit's gradually numb eyes, Crouch and Gerrard broke through to the front court together (Brown: Although he didn't catch up with the two of them at all, using the word breakthrough sounds more face-saving), Crouch pretended to pass the ball to Gerrard and immediately shot.
Endrite flew to the left and pressed the football under his body, then got up from the grass and threw the football to defender Brown.
Brown turned and moved forward with the ball. Just as he was about to pass it to the middle, Gerrard intercepted the ball. Not long after Endrette retracted his hand, Gerrard kicked the ball, and the ball flew towards the goal at high speed.
The angle between the ball and the ground is so big? No, Gerrard's shot just now was not a lob, but the position of the ball...
Endrit glanced at the flight trajectory of the football, pursed his lips, and took a horse stance. Under Gerrard's surprised eyes, he put the falling leaf ball into his arms.
Gently stroking the football in his hand, Endritt bent down and placed the football at his feet. After standing up, he glanced at Lampard and Wright-Phillips in the midfield, closed his eyes with regret, and then kicked the football to the feet of striker Defoe who was in the frontcourt.
Defoe was in a good position and no one came to defend him - although in fact there was no one to defend him at all.
In short, Defoe broke through the defense of defender Lescott and faced goalkeeper Carson, and successfully sent the ball into the goal with a lob shot.
“Beep, beep, beep…”
McClaren blew the whistle to end the game and walked towards Endrit, clapping his hands. "Great! Every save you made was amazing! You are worthy of being called the goalkeeper. You are the best goalkeeper I have ever seen!"
'Then you have met too few people, haven't you? '
【ah? Host? What's wrong? 】
'I'm not talking to you. '
[Oh, okay, host, then 33 will continue to hibernate and accumulate strength~]
Endrit lowered his eyes silently. McLaren didn't care. He clapped his hands and signaled all the players to gather around him, then announced loudly: "You all saw that our national team now has the best goalkeeper in the world, so in the game on the 22nd, we can only win! We can't lose! If you still lose the game with a goalkeeper like Endrit, then I can only say that you are hopeless."
"Goal! Score a goal against Croatia. Is that difficult? It's not difficult at all!"
"Okay, the training match is over, now you continue training. Everyone will be here on the next training day, and I will arrange a new set of tactics for you. If we use this set of tactics, we will definitely win the game, advance to the European Cup final, and win the championship!"
After a passionate speech, McLaren left the stadium alone with excitement.
Lampard quickly ran to Endrit and hugged him lovingly, reaching out to touch Endrit's head, "Thank you for your hard work. Fortunately, it was a training match that ended with one goal, otherwise I don't know how long you would have tortured me."
Wright Phillips also reached out and touched Endrit's head, "Are you okay?"
"Haha..." Endrit smiled, "I'm fine, very good! I made a great save!"
Crouch just came over and heard Endrit's words. He opened his eyes wide in surprise and said, "You have a really good attitude."
Endrit: ...
Tired, destroy it.
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