Chapter 90
When the whistle sounded at the end of the game, Cristiano and Rooney, Alan, Neville and other main players hugged each other tightly.
Rooney felt that Cristiano was about to scratch his back. It was the first time that Cristiano hugged him so excitedly and tightly. He couldn't help twisting his body in pain, but he subconsciously grinned and jumped up and down on the spot to celebrate.
Cristiano was so excited that his eyes were wet. He couldn't even tell who he had caught. He just remembered that not only did they win, but Alan ran faster than him!
He caught a glimpse of Alan's obvious platinum-blond head from a pile of blue jerseys. He stretched out his arms to grab Alan and loudly confirmed with joy: "Alan! How are you? Good, right?"
Alan rushed over with a laugh, pressed on Neville's back to reach Cristiano, and grabbed a handful of Chris's curly hair - although the hair was applied with hairspray, Chris's hair had become loose after a whole game of intense running and sweating, and a few tufts of black hair were stubbornly curled into small curls, sticking to Cristiano's sweaty face.
"Of course! We won! Cristiano! I couldn't be better!" Alan smiled and squinted his eyes and shouted happily, waving his arms and squeezing in next to Cristiano and shouted, "Lore! Cristiano! We got half of the tickets to the quarter-finals!"
This is the knockout round of the Champions League!
Cristiano laughed.
Alan hooked his arm around Chris' neck to celebrate. Cristiano's eyes fell on Alan's calves wrapped in dark blue socks as he jumped vigorously and happily on the green field. Before he could ask more questions, he was squeezed into a hug by his teammates in front and behind him in the next second.
There's no need to ask anything. Cristiano grinned and thought, lowering his head with relief. He relaxed, closed his eyes tightly, and felt the warmth under his eyes. It felt so good.
He tilted his head, buried it in someone's chest, rubbed his face hard, and wiped away the tears of excitement.
Alan smiled and looked down at Cristiano. The Red Devil number seven, who had just scored the winning goal, arched his back beautifully. Despite his tall and thin stature, he was able to squeeze into the embrace of someone of almost the same height. He rubbed the back of Chris's head twice.
Neville raised his eyebrows slightly when he saw this. He noticed that their boy buried his head unusually deep in his chest, which was not at all like the way he usually looked after winning the game.
He stretched out his hands forcefully and forcibly pried open Cristiano's face.
Chris's eyes were red, and his eyelashes were wet and stuck together. Neville choked, and continued to hold the face of their number seven with a bit of amusement and a bit of helplessness, as if he was holding a hot potato: "...What's going on? Who pissed him off again?"
Cristiano dodged slightly, sniffing and mumbling, "No one is provoking me, I'm just a little excited. Gary, you pinched me."
"Oh, oh." Neville quickly let go of his hand, and sure enough, he saw an obvious finger mark on Cristiano's cheek.
Neville endured condemning looks from many of his teammates.
Cristiano's tears were wiped away by someone's hand. He blinked quickly, tilted his head to rub his jersey, and then let out a long breath: "Okay, let's go! Let's go to thank the audience!"
Ferguson was being interviewed by the sports media on the sidelines. As he was dealing with it, he saw Cristiano and his teammates approaching in a lively manner. The coach, who had previously had a serious and businesslike expression on his face, immediately put on a smile that he himself was not aware of. He leaned over and patted Cristiano on the shoulder, and then heard the reporter ask:
"What do you think of Cristiano Ronaldo's performance today? He missed many chances to shoot, and the goalkeeper saved many times. He lacked threat..."
The smile on Ferguson's face suddenly disappeared.
He noticed that Cristiano had obviously heard the reporter's question. He glanced down, shrugged his shoulders indifferently, and showed a natural disdain on his face. However, the area around Cristiano's eyelids and face was extremely red, which made the disdain on his face seem much less, and instead there was a sense of stubborn and aggrieved taste.
Cristiano was quickly escorted away by Keane and Neville, fearing that their straightforward No. 7 would directly confront reporters.
But Cristiano was obviously in a good mood today. He followed the team back to the locker room without any resistance and hummed a song in a good mood.
As for what the reporter was asking, he didn't take it to heart at all. He would continue to practice anyway. If his strength was not enough, he would increase it. If his speed was not enough, he would go faster. If the angles and arcs were not tricky enough, he would practice more with Van der Sar. There is always a way to improve.
The point is, not only did they win the game, but no one was injured.
——Cristiano hummed the song even louder in the bathroom.
"What is he singing? Does anyone know?" Rooney asked curiously.
"Who knows, but I think he's very happy." Pique shrugged.
Rooney muttered quietly: "But my ears are not very happy."
Pique patted Rooney on the shoulder and looked at the other people in the locker room. It was obvious that other teammates showed great tolerance and appreciation for Cristiano's singing. Pique then said: "Then this is a problem with your ears."
Rooney: “…”
On Ferguson's side, the reporter finished asking questions.
The Scottish coach stared at the reporter in front of him with sharp eyes. He curled his lips and snorted coldly: "... lack of threat? Are you referring to the final header?"
The reporter on the other side was choked by Ferguson's question.
Ferguson: "Ask some quality questions and don't waste my time."
The locker room was bustling with activity, and Cristiano came out in a good mood, wearing a big towel.
He hung the towel around his neck with a smile on his face, and listened to his teammates' nonsense chatter in a relaxed manner, until two unexpected people suddenly came to the door.
"Looking for Ronnie?" Ferdinand was the first one to notice Kaka and Costa outside the door. He walked over, raised his eyebrows, and stood at the door.
Keane looked over when he heard the sound, but before he could say anything, he saw a white figure flying past him quickly.
"Kaka!" Cristiano opened his eyes slightly wide in surprise. "I thought you would wait for me outside? Hey, am I too slow? I'll be there soon!"
Keane: “…”
"Of course not, don't worry Cris, take your time." Kaka smiled. He grabbed the towel hanging around Cristiano's neck, covered the boy's head, and gently scratched it twice, "Dry your hair."
"I'll be right there," Cristiano responded, "but I still have an interview later."
"We just came to see you first, and then we'll have dinner together after your interview is over." Costa interrupted Cristiano helplessly. He raised his eyebrows slightly and said with a fake smile, "By the way, hello, Cristiano, maybe you saw me?"
"… Rui! So glad to see you!" Cristiano laughed and gave his national teammate a warm hug. "What nonsense are you talking about? Of course I saw you. You came here with Kaka, didn't you?"
"Oh——" Costa hummed with a long tail tone.
Cristiano smiled dryly.
"Since you are not in a hurry, why don't you wait outside?" Alan said. He stood up from his chair, crossed his arms and looked at the two outsiders at the door. "After all, this is Manchester United's locker room."
"That's right, it's a mess here." Cristiano had quickly put on clean clothes. He nodded to Alan, who reminded him. He grabbed Kaka and Costa and walked out quickly with them, "Let's go out and talk!"
As Cristiano walked away, he turned to Alan and Ferdinand and said, "I'll be back soon, wait for me to go to the back pick together!"
Alan: “…”
Ferdinand: “…”
The two former Leeds United teammates and now Manchester United teammates looked at each other, and Alan narrowed his eyes slightly: "What's going on?"
"...Nothing." Ferdinand replied. He stared at Cristiano's back as he ran away for a few seconds, then slowly looked away. "It's just that his national team teammates came to watch him play."
"Costa, I know. Kaka? He's Brazilian." Alan said. He paused and suddenly remembered the news of the Champions League final night that left the first impression on him. "Aka from AC Milan?"
"Yes." Ferdinand nodded, interrupting Alan's slightly doubtful inquiry, "Okay, get ready. It's time for the interview when Ronnie comes back. Put on your clothes, Alan. And your hair is a mess. Use Ronnie's hairspray. He won't mind you borrowing it."
Alan: “…”
He didn't want to use that extremely fragrant hairspray. The smell was probably only barely pleasant on Ronnie - and that was only with the heavy teammate filter.
Alan curled his lips, put on his clothes, and then took out another pair of comfortable sneakers from the closet to change into. He touched a roll of almost used tape, which he had forgotten in the corner of the away game closet.
Cristiano gave it to him before he went on the court. There was still enough left for one or two more wraps. Alan thought about it and decided to put it away and put it in his trouser pocket. Frugality is a virtue.
Cristiano took Costa and Kaka to the aisle. He stared at his lovers with bright eyes and raised the corners of his mouth with some pride: "How am I today?"
"A decisive goal, what else do you want?" Costa cursed with a smile.
He dared to say that the entire Anfield stadium was about to explode when Cristiano scored the goal, but this little bastard still had a smug and annoying look on his face.
Costa added: "If you go to the post-match interview at Anfield with this expression on your face, it will definitely be reported in the newspapers as 'provocative and arrogant'."
"They won't even compliment me, huh." Cristiano wrinkled his nose.
But he didn't care. He looked at his lover and raised his eyebrows. He was waiting for Kaka's comment.
"To be fair, Cris, you are the MVP of this game," Kaka smiled. He leaned forward and hugged Cristiano restrainedly, and whispered in a voice close to a whisper, "In my eyes, you are the MVP of the world."
He pointed his finger downwards and gently pointed at this world, the world of football.
Cristiano coughed lightly, loosened his hand, touched his nose, and before he could say anything, Costa laughed at him, "Cristiano, you can be so shameless sometimes? Your ears turn red when someone praises you as the MVP of this game? Wow, we should really let Figo see that our Portuguese golden boy can be like this sometimes."
Cristiano looked at Costa: "...Forget it."
Costa: “?”
"I have to go to the back picking, where are you waiting for me?" Cristiano asked.
"In the parking lot." Kaka said.
Cristiano nodded, waved to the two of them, and hurried back to reunite with his teammates.
Costa savored Chris's words and expression, and suddenly looked at Kaka: "Did you say anything else to Cristiano?"
"Huh?" Kaka blinked.
Costa: “…”
Hell, absolutely!
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