Chapter 180
This game laid the foundation for Real Madrid to qualify for the Champions League knockout stage as the first in the group, and this was the real beginning of the journey.
"We have to go celebrate and have a drink," Ramos said in the locker room. He took off his jersey, waved it happily in his hands a few times, and then it flew over Guti's head.
Guti: “…”
The beautiful and fiery central midfielder pinned Ramos down and gave him a good scolding.
Cristiano laughed unceremoniously, pointing at the embarrassed Ramos and shaking his head: "You can't even hold your jersey when you haven't had anything to drink yet, come on."
Ramos was pressed down by Guti and couldn't move, still muttering.
Mourinho walked in from outside the locker room. When he saw the hustle and bustle in the locker room, his face became even gloomier. "You are still happy, for a narrow victory? But I don't see anything to be happy about. I only smell danger."
"Put away your smiling faces and move your butts."
The locker room immediately became quiet, everyone lowered their heads to pack their luggage, and no one dared to laugh anymore.
Reporters who were interviewing after the game were waiting in the interview area. When Mourinho and the players approached, a bunch of microphones and spotlights were immediately sent up to them.
- "How did you like the game?"
- "We won."
-"But it was hard to win. That's not a good sign, is it?"
-"I don't think so. The ball is round and the performance of one game means nothing. Besides, we won."
Mourinho had a stern face, raised his chin slightly, and looked at the reporters in front of him.
Ramos, Marcelo and others were sitting nearby. They exchanged glances with each other, shrank their necks and made quick faces, meaning that they should not mess with the coach, because whoever ran into his gun would be in big trouble.
Seeing this, the reporters turned their attention to the players.
- "So do you feel the players are executing your strategy well?"
- "This is something we will review after the game, I won't say a word here."
- "It seems that there is no more."
The Portuguese coach rolled his eyes and was too lazy to speak.
The reporter turned the microphone to Cristiano again, and said sharply: "Ronaldo, you shot six times in the game, four of which were on target, but in the end you only scored one free kick."
"Yes, I saw the result. This goal helped us get first place in the group." Cristiano leaned forward and spoke close to the microphone. He raised his eyes, lowered the corners of his mouth frivolously, and spread his hands in a disapproving manner.
The reporter who was asking the question choked when he heard this, and he was quickly pushed away by the reporters behind him.
"Ronaldo! This is your first free kick goal since joining Real Madrid! Congratulations! Did you have a feeling you would score?"
"Benzema missed a one-on-one opportunity and made many mistakes..."
"Ramos missed the ball and almost caused Zurich to score..."
"Kaka's counterattack is too soft and lacks offensive ability..."
Cristiano interrupted the reporters' aggressive questions and frowned slightly: "Hey, stop, the only one who can judge us is our coach. You are sports journalists. You are responsible for asking questions and reprinting our answers. That's it. Nothing else is needed."
He was the first to stand up and push away the chair, then he walked away with his backpack.
Mourinho glanced at Cristiano's back, he covered his mouth and pressed the corners of his mouth to prevent himself from smiling.
Is it so enjoyable to watch Cristiano scold people? The premise is that they are on the same front this time.
Mourinho took the microphone: "As I said, this is something we will review after the game, but now we have nothing to say about it. If I have to say something, I would say that our team has the ability to compete for the championship, that's it."
After he finished speaking, he pushed the microphone forward, stood up and left.
Seeing this, the other players of Real Madrid looked at each other, and followed their coach's steps and left quickly.
They didn't want to stay here and be harshly scrutinized by a bunch of outsiders.
The reporters who were left behind looked at each other in bewilderment. Someone muttered, "One or two Portuguese people are so arrogant."
His words immediately resonated with his peers.
The two arrogant Portuguese were now sitting on the team bus. Cristiano was looking out the window with a sullen face, while Mourinho tilted his head to look at Cristiano.
"What do you want to say?" Cristiano looked back at Mourinho.
Mourinho curled his lips and said, "I didn't mean to say anything, but don't you think your reaction was a little bit? Intense? I can't say, this word may not be appropriate, but obviously when those people commented on your teammates, your reaction was more obvious."
"I'm just a little fed up with their endless questions," Cristiano said, looking at Mourinho. "They're amateurish and superficial. Their questions and opinions don't help us improve. They're worthless and meaningless."
Mourinho shrugged noncommittally: "We will confirm this during the review."
Cristiano does not deny that they do have problems, but he is willing to listen to valuable suggestions and help. As for the Spanish media, that is another matter.
He nodded and said nothing more.
Ramos and several others got on the bus one after another. Kaka sat in the seat next to Cristiano, separated from Mourinho by an aisle.
Ramos and Raul sat behind the two men. The defender leaned over the back of Cristiano's chair, grinned and gently pushed Cris: "You are amazing. You just interrupted those reporters and left. That's straightforward. I like it!"
Cristiano smiled perfunctorily and raised his hand to bump fists with Ramos.
Raul shook his head helplessly. "You just arrived in Spain. You will offend those reporters if you do this. Their writing skills will give you a headache, Chris."
This was far from what Figo had told them to do when they looked after Cristiano, but they didn't even have time to stop the boy from saying it and leaving the field, and Raul and Casillas looked at each other and pinched their noses.
"Offending journalists is my strong point." Cristiano looked at Raul and smiled, saying indifferently, "Some people like me, and some people hate me. This is my temper. I will not change for them, so they can only bear with it."
"He's not one or two reporters away from hating him," Marcelo interjected. "Remember the World Cup? Those English media probably wanted to eat him alive."
Kaka looked at Marcelo and frowned slightly. Marcelo sensitively noticed the gaze of his national team captain. His eyelids twitched, he made a face, and stretched his fingers to the corners of his mouth, indicating that he should shut up.
Cristiano raised his eyebrows: "But then we won the Champions League twice, and the English fell in love with me again."
"Yes, yes, your first Champions League was when you kicked us out of the quarterfinals, remember?" Ramos curled his lips, he wanted to get close and make a move again. Cristiano had a mouth that would make anyone's blood pressure rise.
But he was blocked by Kaka, and the Brazilian naturally put his hand on the back of the chair behind Cristiano, which made it difficult for Ramos to move.
He withdrew his hand angrily.
Benzema nodded silently. He already understood a little bit of Spanish and said in a low voice: "He kicked us out too."
Fanny grinned, "Ronnie, be careful what you say."
Cristiano: “…”
Mourinho listened to the players chatting in the car and sneered.
According to this, it seems that there are few teams in this team that have not been kicked back by Cristiano.
Tottenham, Real Madrid, Brazil... and Chelsea. Mourinho's face darkened.
The bus returned to the hotel. Everyone was a little tired by now. Without talking any more, they all went straight back to their rooms.
Cristiano and Kaka shared a standard room. When Kaka returned to the room, he locked the door and drew the curtains.
"Huh? Are you sure you still have the strength tonight?" Cristiano raised his eyebrows when he saw this. He curled the corners of his mouth, jumped onto the bed in a few steps, sat on the bed and looked at his lover.
Kaka paused after hearing this: "...Cris, I'm sure that both you and I should have a good rest and take a hot bath tonight."
"Okay. Then why are you pulling the curtains? I thought you were going to do something." Cristiano cleared his throat.
Kaka pressed on the edge of the bed, and his weight caused the edge of the bed to sink significantly. Cristiano looked at Kaka who was approaching, and he lowered his eyes.
"Because I want to kiss you." Kaka whispered.
He didn't want to be so narcissistic as to think that Cristiano's interruption of the journalists' pointed questions was for his sake, but deep down he knew that his lover had his spines erected like a defensive hedgehog.
He approached Cristiano little by little. He could smell the scent of shower gel on the other's body. He gently covered those lips. Cristiano's lips were always smeared with sweet lipstick, sparkling, as if inviting for tasting.
He sucked those lips gently, making them even redder, then let go, focusing his eyes on the lips that were slightly engorged and gradually turning pink: "...Cris."
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