Chapter 34: The Taste of Victory

"Wang! Wang! Over here, Wang!"
"Congratulations, Wang Lie!"
"Well done, Wang Lie!"
"Great play, Wang!"
...
When Wang Lie arrived at the mixed zone, the reporters waiting there were like beautiful women on a bustling street soliciting customers, waving incessantly and showering him with sweet words, calling him "Big Brother" and "Handsome" at every turn. They all hoped that Wang Lie, this patron, would stop and accept their interviews as he passed by.

Although Wang Lie had already given one interview on the sidelines to the broadcaster after the match, that was an official interview, and the questions were not something the rest of the media could control. Everyone still had their own questions they wanted to ask him. The official interview simply could not satisfy the vast number of reporters.

Wang Lie did not let them down; he actually stopped in the mixed zone. The reporters swarmed forward, crowding around him. If not for the metal barrier, they might have pounced on him...

Wang Lie had to maintain order: "Don't push, don't push, or I'm leaving."

This was more effective than any "polite plea." Hearing this, the reporters immediately quieted down, followed the rules, and stopped pushing. They knew Wang Lie wasn't just making idle threats—he was capable of doing exactly that. A similar incident had happened before: while Wang Lie was answering someone's question, a reporter desperately shoved his microphone into Wang Lie's mouth and tried to push other reporters' microphones aside. This displeased Wang Lie, and he warned that reporter not to do it again, or he would refuse the interview. The reporter ignored the warning and kept at it. Eventually, he managed to squeeze to the front, and his final shove almost poked Wang Lie in the mouth, forcing him to take a step back. Seeing this, Wang Lie turned and walked away, refusing to continue the interview.

This action caused an uproar after the match. Some media outlets criticized Wang Lie for being arrogant, disrespectful, and losing his head over a little success. But Wang Lie stood his ground under immense pressure and refused to accept interviews from that specific media outlet for an entire year. During the height of the criticism, the relevant video was posted online, and only then did people understand why Wang Lie had walked away. The previous insults directed at him were based on the media taking things out of context. Consequently, that reporter and the media outlet that had criticized Wang Lie were torn to shreds by netizens. Incidentally, that rude reporter who shoved his microphone into Wang Lie's mouth turned out to be a Chinese journalist, which was a global embarrassment.

Since that event, reporters knew that to successfully interview Wang Lie, they could not easily provoke him, or he would truly turn his back on them. Of course, this made the so-called "uncrowned kings" very uncomfortable; after all, relying on the "Fourth Estate," they were used to throwing their weight around. When had they ever needed to be submissive to anyone? But Wang Lie was at the peak of his career. In their exchanges, he was the dominant party. He could genuinely blacklist certain media outlets. Plus, in the era of self-media, many professional outlets seemed unnecessary for survival, so they had to coax the interviewees. Thus, one can imagine how twisted the media became—on one hand, they had to flatter Wang Lie, and on the other, they felt psychologically warped by their own submissiveness. Therefore, when Wang Lie's performance declined later in his career, the media published so much dirt on him. It was a collective "liquidation" of Wang Lie's previous arrogance.

Of course, today was different, because Wang Lie had scored again! And not just once, but twice! With a stellar performance, Wang Lie was once again the dominant party, and the reporters had to follow his rules. He said don't push, so they didn't. Seeing that everyone was behaving, Wang Lie finally said, "Ask your questions."

This stance made him look like a host giving orders rather than someone being interviewed. The reporters didn't care about these details; they were just happy he had stopped and didn't walk away!

The reporter closest to Wang Lie was Guo Xuequan from CCTV. Having the home-field advantage, he was the first to ask. "First of all, congratulations, Wang Lie, on your brace in your first match for Tyne. We know your previous situation; scoring twice under such circumstances is not easy. Does this mean you have overcome your previous difficulties?"

This was a standard, middle-of-the-road question. Yet Guo asked it because he felt Chinese fans really wanted to hear Wang Lie answer it himself, rather than letting reporters and commentators speculate.

Sure enough, Wang Lie nodded confidently and replied: "Yes, the sky has cleared, the sun has risen, and the night has passed. I can train and play like a normal player. And the facts prove that as long as I am given enough opportunity and trust, I will not disappoint. Today is just the beginning; I have confidence that I will score more goals in the upcoming matches!"

Guo Xuequan was happy because Wang Lie had made a promise—a promise that he would perform even better. Regardless of whether he could truly deliver, he had made the commitment in front of so many cameras. A direct promise carried a sense of ritual. Chinese fans needed this "ritual."

The second question came from an English reporter: "Wang, you scored twice in this match, your first time this season. Was it because of what Roster said before the match that provoked you?"

The reporter was trying to stir the pot. Wang Lie shook his head: "I scored two goals because I wasn't satisfied after the first one; it had nothing to do with the opponent. My opinion of Mr. Roster was stated clearly in that statement. I only want to say that I am very glad I chose Tyne over Herringham back then, otherwise, I wouldn't even have had the chance to play, let alone score two goals."

He started off by cooling down the controversial topic, but in the end, as the reporter wished, he couldn't help but take a jab at Kofi Roster.

Judging by the reporter's expression, he was delighted that Wang Lie said this.

The third question came from a Spanish reporter, who asked in Spanish: "A truly wonderful performance, Wang! Considering your age, how did you do it? Why is there such a big difference between your performance at Tyne and your time at Sofu Union?"

Wang Lie replied in Spanish first: "Scoring makes me young."

Hearing this, the reporters who understood Spanish were amused. After the laughter subsided, Wang Lie continued: "Why such a big difference? I haven't really figured it out myself, because I haven't changed since my time at Sofu Union... I've even gotten a bit older. Perhaps you should ask Helden, ask him why I only scored one goal in half a season at Sofu Union, while at Tyne, I scored two in less than half a match?"

He said this part in English. Clearly, he wasn't just speaking to the Spanish reporter. He wasn't afraid of causing controversy; in fact, he wanted the reporters present to spread his words. No one was surprised, because that was just who Wang Lie was. They had known him for over a decade; how could they not know his temper? When he was performing poorly at Sofu Union, he never bowed his head or gave in to Helden. Now that he had scored a brace, if he didn't name Helden, people would feel like something was missing—Wang Lie never lets a grudge go unavenged! Now that he said this, many felt satisfied: Ah, yes, that’s the flavor!

While Wang Lie was being interviewed, his teammates walked past him. However, almost no reporters ran to interview them; they remained circled around Wang Lie, even if they couldn't ask questions, just to get a piece of the action.

It wasn't until Elliott Goetz approached that the reporters called out to him: "Elliott! Elliott! Tell us about the captaincy. We noticed you gave the captain's armband to Wang after he came on..."

Goetz laughed, put his arm around Wang Lie, and said to the reporters: "Let me reintroduce everyone: this is our Tyne first captain—Wang Lie!" He then clarified for the reporters: "Actually, from the second day Wang arrived at Tyne, he was already the first captain. It didn't start with this match. I was the one who approached the Boss and suggested Wang replace me as first captain."

Everyone was surprised—this was something they had truly never heard before.

"Why?" a reporter who had a good relationship with Goetz asked.

Goetz looked at Wang Lie, then turned back and smiled at everyone: "Because I believe Wang can bring us victory!"

***

In the post-match press conference, the focus wasn't on the winning side, but on the defeated Herringham FC. Reporters wanted to hear what the dear Mr. Kofi Roster had to say about the match and Wang Lie's performance.

Sitting on the stage, Roster looked at the reporters waiting in anticipation, and for some reason, he suddenly thought of the slave ships from the era of the slave trade. As many media outlets that supported him before the match, that many now wanted to see him make a fool of himself. Like heartless whores. But Roster knew very well that most media outlets had no stance; they just wanted traffic. His attack on Wang Lie brought traffic, and his defeat by Wang Lie also brought traffic. To get media support, he had to win—keep winning. Unfortunately, he was the loser today...

He was a dying slave waiting to be thrown off the slave ship. And the reporters waiting below were the school of sharks following the scent of blood. Sure enough, the first reporter to stand up asked: "You once said that if Wang joined your team, he would never get a chance to play. Do you still think so, Mr. Roster?"

Roster took a deep breath: "Wang's performance today was indeed excellent, but that doesn't prove anything; it's just one match. Both goals had a lot of luck involved..."

He wasn't technically wrong. If forced to say, the first goal did have a lot of luck, as it wasn't a great scoring opportunity. To score with such an unconventional shooting technique, luck played a major role. But the second goal... Roster considered the "luck" to be the ball bouncing toward Wang Lie after the goalkeeper Adalsteinn parried it. But that argument didn't hold water. If you want to talk about luck, Adalsteinn’s save on Dean’s header was lucky. If Dean had headed it directly into the net, there would have been no "Wang Lie" moment afterward.

Roster's answer didn't satisfy the reporters. They hounded him, continuing to press him about Wang Lie. Regardless of how they asked, Roster insisted that Wang Lie's performance had elements of luck, that it was only one match, and that coming off the bench meant his stamina wasn't taxed, so it proved nothing.

"...He is almost thirty-eight. Does McNeil intend to have him come off the bench every match? I think even if McNeil is willing, Wang certainly won't be. If things don't go his way, Wang will become an unstable factor in the locker room..."

"...The season isn't just one match; you have to look at the big picture. It's too early to think his performance will keep getting better..."

In any case, Kofi Roster was all that remained of his "stiff upper lip." In truth, he had no choice; he had to be stubborn and could never admit defeat. He was gambling—gambling that Wang Lie was genuinely lucky in this match. He was betting that in half a month, when Wang Lie turned thirty-eight and his performance declined, no one would bring up his failure and humiliation today. If he admitted defeat now, the feud between him and Wang Lie would be set in stone, and he would be nailed to the pillar of shame forever. But as long as he didn't admit defeat, the contest wasn't over, and he still had a chance to turn things around! He truly didn't believe Wang Lie could maintain his form from today!

However, he did learn a lesson from the match... at the very least, he knew not to provoke Wang Lie before the next match against Tyne. A thirty-eight-year-old Wang Lie, once provoked, was not a man to be trifled with.

It's better to wait until after winning the game to talk tough...

***

Tang Lin had finished studying and was preparing to wash up and go to sleep when his landlord, Mr. Berg, finally opened the door to come home. Hearing some noise from the room upstairs, Tang Lin curiously came out to see and found Mr. Berg standing at the door, saying goodbye to someone quite loudly.

"Alright, alright, I'm home, you go back!"

A gruff male voice came from outside the door: "Are you sure you don't need me to help you inside? I see you can't even stand steadily..."

"I'm home, so what if I lie down on the floor right now?" Mr. Berg was still being stubborn.

After understanding the content of their conversation, Tang Lin hurried downstairs to help his landlord. For a man in his seventies, a fall would be disastrous. Besides, even if he didn't get hurt, lying on the cold floor all night would surely cause problems.

"Mr. Berg!" Tang Lin stepped forward to support Berg, who was leaning against the door frame with one hand while waving the other outside.

"You see, I have someone here."

The big man outside saw Tang Lin, finally felt relieved, and backed away: "Alright, alright, I'm off, goodbye!"

Tang Lin helped Berg into the house, closed the door, and then guided his landlord to the sofa in the living room, pouring him a glass of water.

"Why did you drink so much, Mr. Berg? Didn't the doctor..." Tang Lin complained with a frown; the smell of alcohol on Berg was extremely strong. He had known Mr. Berg for over half a year, and aside from Berg’s stories about his past alcoholism, this was the first time he had seen him drink this much.

Berg slumped on the sofa and loudly interrupted: "To hell with the doctor! Ha! I had to drink this much today!"

Tang Lin guessed: "Tyne won?"

He had been restless before the match and couldn't focus on his books. But after learning Wang Lie wasn't starting, his agitation had faded, and he had settled down to study. He had stayed at his desk until now and hadn't followed the match at all. He didn't even know the score, whether Wang Lie had played, or how he had performed.

"Ha! Yes! That's right! We won! But winning isn't the most important thing, Tang! The important thing is that Wang scored after coming on! And he scored two goals! It was simply perfect! How could I not have a good drink on such a perfect night?!" Berg slumped on the sofa, gesturing excitedly as he spoke.

So that was it... Wang Lie had come off the bench and scored twice.

Tang Lin stood by, watching his landlord who was still overjoyed. Then he smiled too: "That is indeed good news."

Mr. Berg became even more excited: "Right? I knew you'd be happy for your compatriot! Let me tell you, Tang, it's a real shame you didn't watch the match! Wang was like a god descending to the pitch! That clown Roster said before the match that Wang should retire; now he is the one who should be 'off the pitch'! Haha!"

"Let me tell you, Tang... you don't really need to understand football; you just need to know that Wang Lie was fiercely humiliated before the match, and he slapped that clown Roster twice with two goals during the match—that alone is enough to give you goosebumps!"

"We won the match! But the most important thing isn't this game, but what comes next... Wang will lead us to victory!"

Mr. Berg was as supportive of Wang Lie as ever, even more so than he, a Chinese person. Tang Lin smiled and shook his head helplessly: "Yes, yes, Mr. Berg. But you should go to sleep; it's getting late."

Berg waved his hand: "Oh no, I can't sleep now; I'm too excited. Don't worry about me, Tang, you go do your thing, let me sit on the sofa for a while, I still want to enjoy the taste of victory..."

Seeing that Mr. Berg was just emotionally high and not completely passed out, Tang Lin felt relieved: "Then I'm going to take a shower."

Before going upstairs, Tang Lin looked back at Mr. Berg. He was half-lying on the sofa, eyes closed, humming a tune. Tang Lin knew that song well because he had heard Mr. Berg sing it so often he had almost learned it himself. It was a popular song praising his hometown, with a moving melody and catchy lyrics, full of love and longing for home—it was truly beautiful.

"Tyne River, oh Tyne River, the ever-flowing Tyne River, and those towering chimneys, and the dancing flames in the furnace... this is my home, Newcastle—Newcastle upon the River Tyne..."

"This is my home, Newcastle—Newcastle upon the River Tyne..."

Watching the old man looking so happy, Tang Lin thought of the day they first met, when Mr. Berg told him his story. Because of the loss of his son in middle age and his wife in his later years, Mr. Berg had been very depressed for a time, drowning his sorrows in alcohol every day. It was football that saved him. It was football that gave him a reason and the courage to live.

In Tang Lin's view, it wasn't just that simple. Football had even made Mr. Berg feel young again. His current mental state made it hard to believe he was a seventy-four-year-old man. He was even more energetic than himself. Is football really that magical?

Tang Lin suddenly had a thought: Perhaps... could it be that I should go and learn about this football that is like a "miracle cure"?

***

PS: Starting today, I will be updating once a day. Thank you for your understanding... Also, thanks to "Tian You Shui" for the league leader reward. You're an old friend; since "Heart of a Champion," you haven't missed a single book. Thank you!