Chapter 82
The referee's verbal warnings and lenient penalty standards obviously did not have much effect.
Cristiano shook his head when he saw this. He got up, brushed off the grass debris on his body, and jumped twice on the spot.
Alan looked over and saw Cristiano rubbing the place where he had fallen hard just now. He grinned and seemed to be in pain. His round eyes with slightly drooping corners also wrinkled and narrowed slightly, and looked wet because of the pain.
Neville and Ferdinand came over and stood in front of Cristiano, blocking the opposing players' view.
Alan noticed that the player who received a verbal warning from the referee made an inconspicuous "tsk" sound, narrowed his eyes and looked in Chris's direction, then turned around, kicked the ball away, and returned to the court.
Alan: “…Damn it.”
It seems that Pique was really right.
He glanced at their vice-captain and Ferdinand again, and could not help but remain silent for two seconds - because of Pique, he now even suspected that Neville and Ferdinand had noticed it and deliberately stood in front of Cristiano.
Ferdinand checked and asked about Cristiano's condition. Seeing that Cristiano was fine, he felt relieved. He gently patted the back of the boy's head with his palm, pressed it into his chest, lowered his head and kissed the side of his neck in a soothing manner, and said quickly: "Be careful, Ronnie."
Cristiano lowered his eyes and nodded, he thought to himself, he was not afraid of these people, this could not stop him.
Alan was unable to go over to comfort Chris who was knocked down because of the crowd, but he happened to meet his eyes.
His eyelids twitched, and he was very sure that he understood the provocation in Cristiano's eyes. There was no fear at all, but it made him more motivated.
He silently mouthed to Cristiano: "What are you going to do?"
Cristiano made a face at him, then grinned.
He obeyed Ferdinand's force on his head and buried his head in the other's solid chest, with most of his face hidden below Ferdinand's shoulders, leaving only a pair of cunning eyes exposed, looking at Alan with a smile.
Alan had no choice but to shake his head.
In the final injury time of the second half, the score was still deadlocked with Manchester United trailing by 1 point.
The cheers and shouts of the fans in the stands became louder. No one intended to give up, even if there were only 120 seconds left. In everyone's eyes, this time was enough.
Cristiano received a pass from Neville with the outside of his foot, and he rushed into the opponent's penalty area with such a speed that the commentator couldn't help but stand up from his chair excitedly.
"Cristiano Ronaldo! Chance!!"
The three players on the opposing team quickly defended their own penalty area. Cristiano clearly felt that his vision was quickly blocked. The three players squeezed up fiercely and clamped him like three iron gates!
Cristiano still tried hard to kick the ball, but unfortunately the ball hit the crossbar and flew out.
Almost at the same time, due to the strong physical collision, Cristiano and the opposing player collided and fell out.
The commentator exclaimed: "Let's take a look at the replay! Three players defending in a closed position! Cristiano Ronaldo still sent a high-quality shot on target! Oh Milner, this little move stepped on Ronaldo's instep, and both of them fell out! This is likely to be judged as a foul in the penalty area."
Alan also ran into the penalty area. He was closest to the player and could see Milner's little moves most clearly. He immediately shouted, raised his hand to signal the referee, and then quickly ran to Cristiano's side.
He pushed Milner, who was trying to pull Chris up, away and pushed him behind him. He turned his head with a cold face and glared at him fiercely, then turned around and whispered to Cristiano: "Are you okay?"
Cristiano nodded, grabbed Alan's hand and stood up.
"The referee signaled that he wanted to watch the replay!" the commentator said excitedly.
Watching the replay means that the defense just now was controversial and there is a possibility of a penalty kick.
Cristiano was surrounded by several of his teammates and said nothing.
He lowered his head and adjusted his football socks, pulling the socks that had fallen off due to friction back to his knees. At the same time, he quickly wiped his face to wipe away the physiological tears that came out from the corners of his eyes due to the pain.
It hurt so damn much. Apparently, his young body hadn't yet developed a high pain threshold. His tears were worthless. Cristiano still had the leisure to tease himself in his heart - what else can I do, I've already stepped on it, it hurts so much.
It would be better if he could get a penalty, Cristiano thought to himself, otherwise he would miss what might be the last chance to score a goal in the game.
But the referee of this game was very lenient, not to mention giving him a penalty at this time. Thinking of this, he felt even more sad, and the tears that he had just wiped away were about to come out again.
Pique did not miss Cristiano's little action. He blinked and almost immediately noticed that Cristiano was wiping his tears. He exclaimed softly and immediately held up the other's face, revealing Cristiano's red lower eyelids: "Wow, you're crying!?"
Before Cristiano could react, he immediately felt many eyes focused on his face, not only from his teammates, but also from the opposite side.
He sniffed and slapped Pik's hand away, "Who's crying? This isn't crying! Is that where you're focusing your attention?"
Pique grinned and let go of his hand without caring. He carefully looked at Cristiano's expression, as if trying to judge what the other person was thinking, and then replied: "But you are crying, I have to care about you."
The teammates who were originally waiting for the referee's result immediately turned to Cristiano when they heard this. Just as Pique said, Cristiano pouted and the skin under the corners of his eyes turned red.
Rooney trotted over, his face dripping with sweat, panting and touching Cristiano's forehead, then turned to look at Pique and asked, "What's wrong?"
Pique spread his hands.
"Nothing," Cristiano said.
He looked towards the sidelines. The referee had not returned yet and had stayed there for too long. He couldn't help but pray and feel a little nervous.
Giggs pinched Chris's face, probably guessing why the boy was crying. He said nothing, stood in front of Cristiano, and glared at the opposing players who were looking at him.
Alan lowered his head to see Cristiano's instep being stepped on. Chris's sneakers were all blackened by the steps, and he then noticed that even the shoelaces were broken.
He frowned, squatted down and temporarily fixed Cristiano's unfortunate broken shoelaces.
Cristiano looked down and took a small step back: "I didn't even notice...Okay, I'll do it myself."
"It's almost done. Don't move around, broken shoelaces are annoying." Alan raised his eyebrows. The shoelaces were too short and not very obedient. When Cristiano moved back, they moved out again, which was really causing trouble for him.
He had no patience and directly grabbed Chris's ankle as he retreated, tightened it a little and warned him.
"...Okay, thank you then." Cristiano touched the tip of his nose.
Alan quickly tied his shoelaces, stood up, and immediately noticed that Pique, Rooney, Ferdinand and others were staring at him. He raised his light eyebrows and glanced back - what were they looking at him for? Shouldn't we keep an eye on the three players who closed the door?
He turned to Chris, patted the back of Cristiano's head, and sneered in a subtle way: "Thank you? Aren't you usually very skilled at throwing your dirty socks into my basket? I didn't see you thank me."
Cristiano: “…”
His socks, clothes and shorts were thrown into everyone's dirty laundry basket.
Ferdinand looked at Chris when he heard this. He thought Ronnie would just throw the dirty clothes in his basket and ask him to help take it to the laundry room.
Keane also looked at Cristiano silently.
Everyone looked at Cristiano in silence.
Alan was completely unaware of what he had said. He glanced at Cristiano's ankles wrapped in black socks, which he had just grasped with one hand.
He shook his head. It was hard to imagine that such a thin ankle could kick such a long-distance free kick.
Fortunately, not long after, the referee ran back to the field, made a gesture, pointed to the penalty area, and took out a yellow sapphire card from his pocket.
The whole stadium immediately became boiling!
"Yellow card package!?" The commentator also shouted, "The referee showed Milner a yellow card and awarded a penalty!"
"In the final injury time, Manchester United got a penalty kick created by Cristiano Ronaldo! Can this help the Red Devils equalize the game?!"
Giggs came to the penalty spot with the ball in his arms. He took a deep breath and glanced at Cristiano's face, who looked even more nervous than himself. He nodded slightly and turned to face the goal.
"Giggs runs up! Changes speed! Shoots! The ball goes into the net!! Completely fooling the opposing goalkeeper!"
"He is indeed a veteran. He has a chance at the last minute! His mentality is very stable! Beautiful!"
"Manchester United tied the game 1-1! One point!"
Cristiano excitedly ran towards Giggs, hugged Giggs' neck, and wanted to jump twice on the spot.
Giggs felt that his neck was almost dislocated by the boy's strong hug. He laughed and ruffled Chris's curly hair, then opened his arms to welcome the other teammates who came running over.
Teammates came up one after another, and Cristiano felt like he was stuck in a sandwich, but he jumped around in the middle with a smile on his face, and even the pain from his instep being viciously stepped on just now seemed to have disappeared.
The rush of adrenaline acts like a pain anesthetic.
When they returned to the locker room after the game, the excitement of the equalizer had passed, and Ferguson was waiting for them in the locker room with his arms folded.
Everyone fell silent at the same time, listening to Ferguson point out their poor performance and mistakes on the field today.
The main players all lowered their heads, like eggplants hit by frost, and silently fiddled with their jerseys and sneakers.
I don't know which unlucky guy kicked over the trash can next to him. Ferguson glared at him and saw Cristiano crouching down and quickly straightening the trash can.
Ferguson: “…”
never mind.
"Listen carefully," Ferguson warned in a light tone, looking in the direction of Cristiano - but he didn't even criticize him by name.
Ferguson didn't speak for too long, leaving time for the boys to clean themselves up as they had to deal with post-match interviews.
Cristiano walked into the bathroom stall carrying a change of clothes.
He took off his socks and there was dried blood on the back of his feet.
When he took off his socks, the sock fibers stuck to the bleeding wound on the instep of his foot, and the wound was torn open again when he was suddenly pulled.
Cristiano gasped in pain, pursed his lips, took off the shower head, turned on the cold water to rinse off the blood on the back of his feet.
The wound was not deep, just an ordinary skin injury, which could be easily caused by the spikes on the players' feet.
Cristiano simply rinsed off and the blood dispersed the puddles under his feet. He did not stay there for long as he quickly took a shower and planned to go out to find the team doctor to treat the wound.
As soon as the cubicle door opened, Ferdinand was seen standing outside the cubicle, frowning as he looked at the blood stains on the white tiles.
It wasn't much, but because the wound had been roughly opened again when he took off his socks, it continued to bleed, and even with the cold water it didn't seem to stop, it was even more obvious when dripping onto the white tiles.
Cristiano faced Ferdinand in his slippers, was stunned for a moment, grabbed a towel and wiped his hair: "Leo?"
"Why didn't you go find the team doctor?" Ferdinand frowned and pointed at Chris's instep.
"I'm going now." Cristiano touched his nose, "I won't record the post-interview, I'll just wait for you on the bus!"
Ferdinand just saw Cristiano jogging in his flip-flops, and he didn't have time to say anything.
He clicked his tongue, pursed his lips, and joined his teammates who were being interviewed with a stern face.
Ferguson glanced at Ferdinand and raised his eyebrows. He asked Ferdinand to call Cristiano over, but where is he?
Ferdinand lowered his voice and said to Ferguson: "Ronnie go to the team doctor to treat the wound and wait for us on the bus."
"Looking for the team doctor?" Ferguson frowned. He turned off the microphone in front of him, turned his chair and looked at Ferdinand. "What's wrong? Why didn't you tell me before?"
Keane and Alan were sitting in the nearest seats. They turned around and asked, "What's going on?"
"There's a cut on the instep," Ferdinand said simply. "When I went to call him, there was blood all over the floor. He went to stop the bleeding first and then see what the team doctor says."
He spoke in a low voice so that the reporters could not hear him, but a lip-reading expert read what Ferdinand was saying.
Ferguson and Keane both frowned.
Cristiano was receiving treatment from the team doctor to stop bleeding and reduce inflammation. He was wrapped in two layers of gauze and suddenly sneezed violently twice.
"Stay away from water and wear loose shoes." The team doctor said as he handed Cristiano two bottles of antibacterial nail polish. "Nothing else. Here, the slippers in the cabinet over there are just right."
Cristiano nodded, hopping on one foot to open the cabinet, and saw several pairs of soft fur slippers in the cabinet.
He turned to look at the team doctor: "What are you talking about?"
"Yes. You don't have to give it back to me." The team doctor waved his hand.
Cristiano; "..."
The only thing that fit was a pair of light pink furry slippers.
He stepped in slowly and moved his toes. It was soft and comfortable.
Cristiano quickly accepted the slippers, Meimei took the antibacterial liquid and returned to the bus.
As soon as he got on the bus, he saw his teammates including the head coach waiting for him, their eyes fixed on his light pink slippers.
"Ferdinand said there was blood everywhere in the locker room bathroom. Are you planning to stain the locker room with blood?" Alan was sitting in the front row, pursed his lips at Cristiano, then glanced at the ridiculous pair of pink slippers and frowned.
Cristiano almost choked. He looked at Ferdinand with wide eyes: "What? Nonsense! How can it be so exaggerated?"
He lifted his foot and showed off his bandages. "It's just a small cut, Leo. It's a shame you don't tell the story."
Ferguson took a look and it looked OK. He looked at Ferdinand, who said, "All I saw in the bathroom was blood all over the floor."
"That's because I just opened the wound and rinsed it with water," said Cristiano.
"You should go straight to the team doctor," Neville said.
"...I'll remember it next time." Cristiano raised his foot.
Ferguson patted the boy's instep helplessly and said, "Okay, Ronnie, go back to your seat and stop playing tricks. Next time, go directly to the team doctor and don't delay."
"Okay, Boss." Cristiano immediately calmed down, put on his pink slippers, and sat next to Alan.
Alan glanced away, then looked away.
Although Cristiano did not participate in the post-interview, he still appeared in the newspaper the next day.
#Lip reading expert professional interpretation! Cristiano Ronaldo injured, blood stained the locker room! #
#Ronaldo the crybaby, the pretty boy who can't stand losing#
…
The next day, Keane pressed the cover of the tabloid on Ferdinand's breakfast table. Ferdinand took a look and saw that the photo in the tabloid was of Cristiano being held on the face by Pique after being fouled. He looked like he had cried but was pouting and trying not to cry.
A wet pink curly-haired puppy.
Ferdinand frowned: "How to use this picture?"
Keane shrugged and pulled up a chair to sit next to Ferdinand: "Who knows. But I guess Ronnie will definitely not like this picture."
Ferdinand nodded in agreement.
Mendes stared at the picture in the newspaper and fell into silence. How could he stop the photographers on the field from always taking pictures of his top player crying?
God knows this will trigger a new climax in some mysterious forum.
It’s too dangerous, his top card is really too dangerous.
"What did you say?" Kaka turned and looked at Mendes.
He was backstage getting ready for a taping of a show, and Mendes was sitting on the couch behind him, mumbling something.
Hearing the voice, Mendes looked up at Kaka and saw the little prince of San Siro turning around in his chair to look at him with a bit of gentle concern in his eyes.
Shevchenko, who participated in the program recording with Kaka, sat aside and played with his mobile phone boredly.
The two men were wearing black suits and black shirts, which was quite Italian in style.
Mendes looked at Kaka and then at Shevchenko next to him. They also had outstanding looks, but these two young men would not be labeled as boys, and there would not be a lot of people who wanted to see them cry.
I’m so envious. Mendez clicked his tongue.
Beckham, Inzaghi, Shevchenko, Kaka... These good-looking football stars are favored by countless women. Their charm is unquestionable, but Mendes has never seen any of them who can enjoy the unique support of those people in a strange forum like Cristiano, as if he is the uncrowned king there.
——Mendes is not proud of this at all.
"I'm talking about Cristiano," Mendes said, shaking his head. He shrugged at Kaka. "Your good friend always receives some special attention from the media."
He sent the photo of Cristiano making the headlines to Kaka, and Shevchenko saw that his friend looked visibly unwell.
He kicked his chair over curiously to have a look, and then wanted to laugh.
He looked at Kaka, raised his eyebrows slightly, and said in an ambiguous tone: "Oh... Why is Ronaldo crying? Who is the teammate next to him?"
Mendes opened his mouth and was about to explain when Kaka replied, "Gerard Pique."
"Oh, you know him?" Mendes blinked, then remembered that Kaka had liked the other party's social media photos, and nodded knowingly, "It's him."
He then turned to Shevchenko, cleared his throat and said that it was normal for Cristiano to cry - everyone knew it.
Shevchenko almost laughed, but he held it back and asked as pertinently as possible: "So what's troubling you?"
Mendes shook his head. Such troubles were not suitable to be shared with Shevchenko.
He hesitated to speak, and finally said, "Maybe he's worried that too many people want to see him cry. I would say this is a bit abnormal and inappropriate."
Shevchenko hummed, somewhat puzzled by the agent's concerns.
He lowered his head and was about to take another look at the photo, but he saw that his friend had covered his eyes with his hand and looked at him with a gentle warning.
Shevchenko: “……?”
Outrageous! !
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