Chapter 102
Sir Alex Ferguson showed his Scottish stubbornness and tenacity in defending his hair, and he made another bet with Cristiano:
"I'll fulfill this bet if you win the Champions League, Ronnie, and the Champions League," Ferguson said, "and you have to score at least one goal in the next game."
——After all the Premier League matches are over, the next game will be the Champions League final against Juventus, and the stadium will be at the Stade de France.
Cristiano grumbled that his boss had defaulted on his debt again, but at the same time he accepted the new challenge with great interest and fighting spirit.
Ferguson rubbed his big nose and asked, what does "defaulting on a debt again" mean?
Although he had defaulted on many debts after playing cards, this was the first time he did that to the little Portuguese man!
Ferguson knocked Cristiano on the head in dissatisfaction and scolded him with a smile: "Go practice, little troublemaker."
In less than a day, everyone in the club heard about the new bet between Ferguson and Cristiano - thanks to Cristiano's busy mouth.
Manchester United's main players comforted Cristiano, who failed to get the spoils of the bet, while the cleaning ladies who cleaned the locker room and the old man who was always responsible for closing the door frequently cast disapproving glances at Ferguson when he passed by.
This made Ferguson wonder if he had done something extremely bad like bullying a child.
But in fact, he was just trying to protect his hair!
"Poor little Cristiano, he just wanted the spoils of the bet." The cleaners gathered together to chat.
"Poor little thing, you look so listless after training today. Sir Alex Ferguson is really... eh."
"How could he bear to stand up such a lovely child?"
"Little Cristiano has a really good character. He didn't react at all when he was tricked into accepting another outrageous bet."
"He's always like this. He always plays and jokes with us. Some time ago, I heard a kitten meowing somewhere. I searched for a long time before I realized that he was imitating a cat's meow to play a prank on me..."
“Oh—” The aunties who were chatting around all sighed in admiration, “I feel like we are watching him grow up here.”
"So how could Sir Alex Ferguson deceive a boy who loved and respected him like this?" The topic was brought back and the cleaning ladies became indignant again.
To be honest, they also wanted to see the man who always chewed gum and looked like a king with a bald head.
The Bald King inspecting his Old Trafford territory? Hey, that's really interesting.
"If you can't afford it, don't bet." The old man in charge of closing the door came over with his hands behind his back and unexpectedly joined the conversation.
He watched Cristiano Jr. every day and he was almost always the last one to leave during training, while he was responsible for the final closing. The two of them were almost developing a tacit revolutionary friendship.
If he were to say, Ferguson's bald head should naturally be given to the hardworking young Cristiano.
The words of the doorkeeper were unanimously agreed upon.
Sir Alex Ferguson literally sneezed for half an hour in his office.
"Are you catching a cold?" Queiroz looked over in surprise.
"It's the sensitivity of the change of seasons," Sir Alex Ferguson retorted disapprovingly.
Queiroz twitched his lips and refused to admit it. Ronnie and Sir Alex Ferguson were really cut from the same cloth.
///
On the night of the Champions League final at the Stade de France in Paris, France, both Manchester United and Juventus arrived in the city early.
The two clubs stayed in the same hotel. When Manchester United's main players were coming out of the hotel, they happened to meet the Juventus team getting off the bus.
The main players of Juventus, dressed in neat black suits and sunglasses, walked out of the bus one by one. The main players of Manchester United were dressed in neat sports trousers and long black down jackets.
Cristiano whispered, "Next time, can we wear suits together?"
"Okay, Ronnie." Neville said perfunctorily with a smile.
Buffon happened to hear this conversation when he got out of the car. He turned his head with amusement and saw a very young boy rubbing his curly hair and mumbling, with his other hand tightly tucked into the pocket of his down jacket.
He raised his eyebrows slightly. He was a handsome boy and stood out among this group of British guys.
Buffon also noticed that the young man had a pair of beautiful eyes, which reminded him of the puppy he kept at his mother's house when he was talking to his teammates.
Cristiano noticed the gaze and turned his head to look over, just in time to see the young Buffon looking at him. He blinked, this was Buffon who was not even thirty years old, very different from the friend he was familiar with. He raised his hand and waved with interest, nodding slightly in greeting.
Seeing this, Keane and Ferdinand quickly took Cristiano away. Their boy was indeed very interested in the old Italian man!
Hell, Kaka is still younger.
Buffon also nodded to Cristiano, and then saw the handsome young man being hurriedly pulled away by his teammates, as if there was some ferocious beast behind him.
Buffon found it a little funny. Come on, he is a goalkeeper. If anyone at Manchester United really wants to see someone as a monster, then they should be his central defender teammates.
He knew the young man who had just smiled at him very well. He was almost going to watch the other party's goal highlights for the third time, analyzing the other party's small movements before the goal frame by frame, trying to distinguish the other party's psychological activities and thinking patterns, and estimating the angle and speed of the other party's goal...
Cristiano Ronaldo. Buffon repeated it in his mind. The name was beautiful, and the football played was beautiful, but the only beauty that moved his heart was the scoreboard on the field. The huge red light and the number under the Juventus team logo were the most beautiful.
However, his mind still flashed through the young man's red nose due to the cold and his hands tightly stuffed in his pockets. He shook his head and smiled, thinking to himself, if you are so afraid of the cold, you'd better not wear a suit.
"That's Cristiano Ronaldo." The great midfielder Vieira gently bumped Buffon. Last season, Cristiano's free kick from 35 yards out blasted into Arsenal's goal like a hammer on the head, and he witnessed that goal at close range.
"He looks vulnerable," Juventus' center back came over and said.
Buffon glanced at his teammates, smiled and pushed them: "Then you defend him to death, don't turn around and pit me."
"Tsk, just pretend I didn't say anything."
…
"Won't Kaka come to watch your game this time?" After pulling Cristiano away, Ferdinand asked in a low voice in confusion - after all, if Kaka came, Cristiano probably wouldn't be in the same hotel room with Alan, and he would definitely ask him or Giggs to cover for him.
"No, they have been called up to the national team training." Cristiano replied. After this game, he would have to rush back to participate in the national team training.
Sure enough, Ferdinand snorted softly.
///
The Champions League final will be on the second night, at 8pm local time.
The searchlights on the Stade de France are very bright. Several huge searchlights stand in several corners of the field, like several artificial little suns rising up.
Players from both teams walked onto the field from the tunnel, and the UEFA Champions League theme song began to play.
Ferdinand took a deep breath. He stood next to Cristiano, covered his mouth and was about to joke with Chris - even the air in France smelled of perfume - but then he heard someone singing, and it was the theme song of the Champions League.
Ferdinand's body trembled, he turned his head to look at Cristiano, their boy was singing loudly with his eyes closed.
Ferdinand: “…”
Oh my god, is there really anyone who even sings along to the Champions League theme song?
Oh, but Ronnie is so cute when he sings along seriously. ——Ferdinand changed his thoughts quickly.
When the song ended, the starting players of the two teams shook hands with each other, starting from Cristiano, and walking to the first goalkeeper on the opposite side who stood like a mountain god, and shook hands one by one.
Cristiano shook hands with Buffon. Their meeting the day before was so rushed that they didn't even have time to say hello.
"Nice to meet you." He curled his lips.
"Nice to meet you too, little boy." Buffon blinked. After holding Cristiano's hand, he patted his back and noticed that Cristiano's eyes were not pure light brown under the refraction of the lights in the stadium.
The goalkeeper's palm was too big, and it was very obvious when it fell on Cristiano's waist. He smiled and praised: "You have a pair of rare and beautiful green eyes, like a piece of green sealed in clear resin amber."
He whispered in Italian, and his teammates around him couldn't help but grin in a teasing manner - Oh my God, Gigi started again.
Cristiano smiled and replied in Italian: "Thank you."
Buffon was stunned for a moment. He didn't expect that Cristiano could understand what he was saying. His ears turned slightly red, which was rare.
While he was distracted for a moment, Cristiano had already gone to shake hands with other people.
Buffon felt some unfriendly gazes on him, and when he looked over, he saw the same Manchester United main players who had taken Cristiano away the day before, now staring at him as if judging him.
Buffon: “…”
He dared to say that there was something wrong with this group of people.
"What did he just say?" Ferdinand asked warily with his hand covering his mouth as he trotted past Cristiano.
Although he didn't understand Italian, he could make out some of the intonations, especially since the person across from him was an Italian man.
"He praised my eyes for being beautiful. Did you notice that my eyes are actually green?" Cristiano pointed to his own eyes and seemed very happy. One of the biggest reasons why he has always liked Gigi is that she is always very serious when she praises him and always hits on the things he likes.
Ferdinand: “…”
Oh, Italian men.
After all the players from both teams greeted each other politely, the referee blew the whistle to start the game.
"Welcome everyone to the night of the Champions League final! I am very happy to broadcast this exciting game here for you! The two strong teams in this final, Manchester United vs. Juventus, the Red Devils vs. the Zebras!"
"The ball was kicked off from the midfield, and Vieira, the midfielder of the Zebras, took the lead in organizing an attack on Manchester United's goal!"
Cristiano was very familiar with this opening. The Zebras wanted to launch a fast break just like the last time they played against AC Milan.
He rushed forward quickly. Cristiano, wearing a red jersey, was like a ball of hot fire following the wind. The louder the wind whistled, the wider and more wildly the fire burned.
Cristiano's dribbling is always worth seeing. The young man's body hiding the soul of a 38-year-old combines his experience, skills and flexibility together, combining both fancy and practicality. He always makes the opposing players play around like he is doing a cheerful and lively Latin dance. But precisely because of this - because his dribbling and shooting are undoubtedly beautiful and eye-catching - his steals are always overlooked.
Tackling is not his main task, but when necessary he will press forward without hesitation, and the tackle is beautiful and clean enough. He has a very strong sense of prediction and space, and the ball is scooped out by him cleanly and neatly.
Vieira's fast attack rhythm initiated from the midfield was interrupted. He glanced at the young boy who had just kicked the ball away from under his feet, wiped his face, watched the red number seven trotting away, and casually high-fived his teammates.
It's Cristiano Ronaldo again. This boy seems to be able to play in every position. He was clearly attacking in front, but he turned around and retreated to defend. The second time the ball was stolen from his feet.
Vieira thought of Wenger at an inopportune time. His former head coach always liked to mention how he almost signed Cristiano Ronaldo back then - not only the reporters liked to mention this matter, but he himself also liked to mention it, and Vieira now somewhat understood the other party's obsession.
"O'Shea steals the ball in front of the goal! Blocks the shot of Juventus striker Ibrahimovic!"
"A long clearance! Keane made a long pass and Cristiano started to chase! At the same time, Juventus' four defenders also accelerated at almost the same starting line!"
"Cristiano Ronaldo got the ball! He made a feint and fooled Cannavaro who was standing right in front of him! The absolute leader of Juventus' defense made a mistake!"
"Ronaldo dribbled the ball, turned and rushed into the penalty area! Shoot!"
"Ronaldo shot directly! The ball was saved by goalkeeper Buffon!"
"And! Ronaldo made another follow-up shot!!!"
"The ball goes in! The first half of the game is coming to an end! Manchester United scored the first goal! Cristiano Ronaldo made a follow-up shot in front of the goal, and goalkeeper Buffon was unable to turn it back! What happened to Juventus' defense?!"
Buffon could only watch as Cristiano raised his foot in front of him and shot the ball at a small angle straight into his goal. The opponent's reaction speed and precise timing of shooting seemed to be a talent engraved in his bones. He really didn't have time to get up from the ground and run back to block the tricky shot.
He only had time to see the unparalleled ambition and desire to score in the opponent's eyes.
Buffon pursed his lips and closed his eyes helplessly, then he heard Cristiano roaring with excitement and joy, and then a gust of fragrant wind blew past him quickly.
"Twenty-two seconds! From O'Shea's clearance in front of the goal to Ronaldo's follow-up shot into the goal, it only took twenty-two seconds! The Manchester United Red Devils used a wonderful twenty-two seconds to score a magnificent goal in the Champions League final!"
The first half of the game is over!
The main players walked off the field and Cristiano heard the fans on the field starting to sing his song again. He blew kisses to the fans and showed a big smile.
After the half-time break, in the second half of the game, the Zebras began their road to revenge.
In the 68th minute of the game, Juventus got a penalty kick due to a defensive foul in the penalty area. Piero stood on the penalty spot and took a deep breath.
"Piero takes a run-up... and shoots! The ball brushes against Van der Sar's fingertips and goes into the net!!! Juventus equalizes the score!"
The score was locked in, and Ferguson, sitting in the coaching booth, commanded his warriors to start running again. His roar could even be heard faintly.
He would rather get a yellow card than give the Zebras another chance to attack.
So, when the opposing central midfielder just got the ball, Alan made a fierce flying tackle and knocked the opponent away, kicking the ball out of the sideline. He got up from the ground expressionlessly, and the referee showed him a yellow card.
The game was dragged into overtime.
In the seventh minute of extra time, Manchester United got a free kick opportunity in the frontcourt.
"The position of this free kick is pretty good, within Ronaldo's shooting range." The commentator in the broadcast room said, "Ah, as expected, Ronaldo is the one to take the penalty!"
"Ronaldo took a run-up... and the ball hit the wall! The ball was cleared away by Juventus! What a pity, this was Manchester United's closest chance to take the lead."
Cristiano also shook his hands in annoyance. He lowered his head and wrinkled his nose in frustration, and whispered something as if he was talking to himself.
Neville was right next to him, and he could hear the boy trying to compete with him. He panted, dragged his aching leg over, and rubbed the boy's sweaty head twice.
Not long after, Neville passed the ball to Cristiano, who passed it back to Alan. The two quickly exchanged glances and rushed towards Juventus' penalty area.
"Alan dribbled the ball straight into the penalty area! Is he going to shoot himself?!"
"Buffon was forced off the goal line and tried to intercept the ball!"
"Alan sets up a shot in front of the goal and passes the ball to Ronaldo!? Ronaldo appears at the shooting point!"
"Ronaldo's header! The ball went in!! Manchester United leads 2-1!! Ronaldo scores twice!!!"
"It's Ronaldo again! He's leading Manchester United to the lead over the Zebras once again!" The commentator slammed the table excitedly and jumped up, "Alan and Cristiano played a cooperative match in front of the goal. Alan feinted and tricked goalkeeper Buffon! Cristiano headed the ball into the far corner!"
He quickly glanced at the game time: "There are less than five minutes left in overtime! Is it possible for the Zebras to create a miracle in the final moments?!"
The answer is yes.
Less than three minutes after Cristiano scored, Juventus' counterattack was like lightning. Trezeguet tore through Manchester United's defense and shot a long shot from outside the penalty area into the dead corner!
"Juventus!!!! Scored another goal in the final minutes and tied the score tenaciously again!! This Champions League night is destined to be crazy and tortuous!! Absolutely wonderful!!"
"The referee blew the whistle and finally pointed to the penalty shootout!!"
All the players slowly walked to the sidelines to get supplies, or listened to the head coach's arrangements and deployments.
The captains of both teams gathered at the referee's side to decide which side would kick first.
"The first one to step up to the penalty spot was actually Cristiano Ronaldo. In the second leg of the Champions League semi-final, Ronaldo missed the penalty and almost turned from a hero into a sinner. Now he is asked to be the first to take a penalty? The pressure is too great!" the commentator said quickly.
His partner said: "Ferguson's arrangement is very bold. If the first penalty is missed, the rest will probably collapse. I think Giggs should be the first. No one is more stable than Giggs."
"That's right, and Ronaldo has to face Buffon, who has been voted the best goalkeeper in Serie A six times and has been selected into the UEFA Best Team many times...Okay, Ronaldo is going to the penalty spot!"
Cristiano took a deep breath. He didn't know why Ferguson arranged him to stand first, but he was always used to standing first.
He looked at the tall goalkeeper in front of the goal, adjusted his breathing, pursed his lips, slightly arched his back, then took a run-up, paused and changed speed, and shot!
"It's in! Cristiano Ronaldo fooled goalkeeper Buffon perfectly, and the quality of this penalty kick was very high! It almost went straight into the upper right corner of the net!" The commentator exclaimed, "It seems that Ronaldo was not troubled by the shadow of missing the penalty in the last game, and he played very stably this time!"
Cristiano let out a breath, and he quickly returned to his teammates, holding them tightly and continuing to watch the next battle.
The penalty kick came to the fifth round. Rooney slowly walked to the penalty spot. He closed his eyes tightly, then took a run-up and shot...
"The ball was saved by Buffon!!"
There was a fierce booing from the stands outside the stadium. Rooney opened his mouth slightly. He returned to the team in a daze, covering his face and not daring to look again.
"Piero shoots! Goal! Juventus vs. Manchester United, 5-4 in the penalty shootout! Congratulations to Juventus..."
The whole stadium was extremely lively, except for Manchester United's side, which was suffocatingly silent.
Everyone lowered their heads; they were just a little bit away from the big-ear cup.
Cristiano lowered his head and pursed his lips tightly. His ears were filled with sounds of cheers and celebrations, but these did not belong to them. The bitterness and reluctance made his eyes hot. He bit his lips to prevent himself from crying.
No one felt good at this time. He said to himself, don't cry, Chris, you are a few years older than Keane. Hold it in, Chris.
Neville was the first to notice that Cristiano looked like he was about to cry but was holding it back. He felt a familiar dull pain in his heart, but it quickly disappeared. He walked over to Cristiano, put his arm around Chris' neck and pressed it against his neck, patting him gently twice without saying anything, but a hug was enough.
Cristiano closed his eyes and choked out a low, choked voice: "Gary."
Neville responded, he tilted his head and kissed Cristiano's sweaty forehead, whispered a few words of comfort, and then turned to Rooney. Their England's golden boy was now squatting on the ground in a complete daze. He sighed, walked over and pulled Rooney up.
Alan heard Cristiano's nasal sobs, he turned around and looked at him. Cristiano had his hands on his hips, eyes open and slightly raised his head to look at the angry and disappointed fans in the stands. The circles around his eyes were extremely red, it was obvious that he was crying, but he was trying hard to hold it back, with his drooping eyes, which made people feel soft-hearted.
When Alan came to his senses, he had already stretched out his arms and embraced Cristiano.
He turned Cristiano's face so that Chris' eyes were no longer fixed on the fans in the stands. He put his arms around Cristiano's ears to block out the sounds of celebration, cheers, anger, and shouts.
"Cristiano, you have to look at me and look at us. Someone will always win or lose," he whispered, leaning forward to give Cristiano a gentle hug, and said in Chris's ear, "We will have the Big Ear Cup. As long as we are on this team, I always believe that we are the best. Just like the boss said, we have the best players, we have the key man, Cristiano, I believe in you, I believe in our team, and you have to believe in me too."
Alan felt his neck suddenly become wet and hot, and a warm liquid slid from his neck into his jersey. He realized it was Cristiano.
He stood there somewhat stiffly, and before he could figure out what to do, he heard the other party respond in a hoarse voice: "I believe in you, and I believe in our team. Thank you, Alan. I'm much better now."
Cristiano wiped his face and took a deep breath. His eyelashes were still wet, and his nose, eyelids, and cheeks were all pitifully red. He nodded and whispered, "I'm fine. I was just a little emotional."
A little bit? Alan thought, that was like a dam breaking.
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