Chapter 2: Spirits Like Water

In the evening, in May, London, drizzling and full of pedestrians.

Old John's tavern, located on the corner of a side street in East London, is usually a bleak business, but today it is full.

Because today is the day of the Champions League final - the 2007-2008 season, the Champions League final, against two teams from England: Manchester United vs. Chelsea! Now that all the competitions in the English domestic league have ended, before the start of the new season, there is only this one game to watch, so it has also attracted a large number of fans, whether Manchester United or Chelsea fans are willing to drink some beer in the pub at this time, and brag and chat with friends while watching the game.

Watching football in a tavern is a tradition in England, and it is about the time that there are so many people watching football today that Old John's Tavern has a rare day of prosperous business.

The atmosphere in the tavern should have been noisy and warm since it was a football game, but at this time, Old John's tavern was as quiet as a fancy café - if it weren't for the rusty doors and windows, and the strong smell of beer, sweat, and smoke.

There wasn't much of a stir in the game, with Chelsea in possession but the score was 1-0 up for United when it was Cristiano Ronaldo's header in the 26th minute.

After Manchester United's goal, the game began to look flat, and Chelsea's attacking ability was not as strong as theirs compared to their iron-clad defence.

But it wasn't the lackluster Champions League final that quieted the many fans in the tavern, but one person.

A man, dressed in black, with a high black coat collar covering his face, and a thick black hair that could barely make out the silhouette of an oriental man, even if he was sitting on a chair, the drinkers could roughly estimate the height of this man—definitely more than one hundred and eighty centimeters.

Several bottles of whiskey were placed on the table, and the man was silent for a moment, then raised the goblet in his hand.

Goo dong goo dong ....

Like drinking water, a glass of liquor is drunk in one go.... It's a high-strength whisky that the British call "eaux-de-vie"!

The red-faced white English men around them also swallowed their saliva. Some looked at each other, and some had admiration or even adoration in their eyes.

"How many bottles is this??"

"Seventh, right??"

"I look like it's the eighth bottle...."

The attention of the drinkers was completely absorbed by the man, and a man who drank seven or eight bottles of spirits without changing his face attracted more attention than a boring game.

Dangdang....

The sound of a bottle tapping on a glass.

Another bottle of whiskey is empty....

The man turned around, and only then did the drinkers see the Oriental man's appearance.

Sword eyebrows, deep eye sockets, high nose bridge, thin lips, angular and resolute face, two sharp gazes make people dare not look at each other....

This is definitely not a person to mess with!

Most of the drinkers who had been staring at this oriental man withdrew their gaze.

"Isn't this a Chelsea coach?!" A deliberately muffled voice rang out.

"Yes, yes, I remember, it's the Chinese coach from Chelsea!!" Someone hiccuped in.

'Chelsea coaches? Hey, don't tease me, Chelsea's coach is Grant now, and he's in Russia with his team now. And do you think Abu that Russian will hire a Chinese to be the coach of Chelsea?? ”

"That's it! I've heard that Russians are racists! ”

'I hate Abu even though I'm a Chelsea fan!'

"What I said is true, his name is Gao Bo, he is a Chinese, he just led Chelsea Under-18s to win the FA Youth Cup half a month ago!!" A drunk, red-eyed man stood up, wearing a Chelsea number eight shirt – a Chelsea or Frank Lampard fan.

The tavern fell silent for a moment, and the people looked at the man again.

On the football field, although there are not many East Asians, one or two people can often be seen in weekly games, and there are several Chinese who are now playing in the English league, Sun Jihai of Manchester City, Zheng Zhi of Charlton, etc...

But the words of the coach .... In the minds of fans, they have never seen East Asians coach in Europe's mainstream leagues.

However, leading Chelsea Under-18s to the FA Youth Cup is enough to show the quality of this man, and in the arena, the winner is king, so no one questions whether this man is qualified to be the coach of Chelsea's youth team.

"Hey, job, you're behind the news. I heard that Gao Bo was fired by Chelsea......"

"Oh......"

In the tavern, the fans glanced at Gao Bo sympathetically.

It turned out to be an unlucky guy who was unemployed.

'Didn't he just win the FA Youth Cup with Chelsea Under-18s?'

"I heard that Abu didn't like him.."

"How did I hear it was offending a director at Chelsea..."

'The manager who won the title was sacked and the tradition of English football was wiped out in Chelsea.

"It's all to blame on that damn Russian..."

"I heard Abu is a racist!!"

"Russians are always so savage .."

In the tavern, the wine was hot, and the English began to fire map cannons at Russia.

"The bartender..."

Gao Bo turned and snapped his fingers.

The bartender immediately delivered a bottle of whiskey.

In the admiring or sympathetic gaze of the English people in the tavern, another glass of whiskey was swallowed.

He drank whiskey like cold water...

A glass of spirits is in the stomach, but Gao Bo doesn't feel anything, compared to Chinese baijiu such as Erguotou, although the degree of whiskey is not low, but it is not as domineering as baijiu in taste.

"Hey, Chinese, aren't you a coach, look at me, what position do I play?"

A round fat man staggered to Gao Bo's side.

Gao Bo frowned, looked at the fat man in front of him, and a light curtain that only Gao Bo could see appeared out of thin air.

Explosiveness: 20

Oh, it sucks...

Endurance: 22

Can you still play football with such stamina?

.....

A series of data appeared along the light curtain, Gao Bo looked at it one by one, even if this fat man is placed in the amateur arena, he is basically a waste, he can't run, he can't shoot, his offensive and defensive skills are all rotten, and in terms of physical data, other data other than weight are basically impossible to see.......

Goalkeeping Technique: 55

！！！！

Gao Bo was shocked!

Is this waste fat man still a goalkeeper?

Gao Bo couldn't help but glance at this fat goalkeeper with a big tongue.

It's really unseemly, a goalkeeper with a skill of 55 is already very good in the amateur arena, but it's a pity that this fat man is too fat, otherwise there must be some low-level league teams interested in this fat man.

"I see you're so fat, the only position for you is the goalkeeper." Gao Bo withdrew his gaze, and the light curtain disappeared with it.

Gao Bo hadn't had time to delve into the source of this light curtain, but he knew that it was a very useful thing for a football coach - to see a person's attributes, wouldn't it be the equivalent of FM for a coach.

It's a pity that you can only use it once a day, and it's cheap for you to use it on your fat man today.

Gao Bo raised his glass and drank it all.

"You know that, too?" The fat man scratched the back of his head.

"Nonsense, Kenny Sr., you're so fat, of course you can only be a goalkeeper, because the goalkeeper doesn't have to run....."

"Hahaha..."

The tavern was filled with joy.

Fat goalkeeper Kenny was unimpressed by the ridicule.

"Then you see, what will be the result of this game?" Kenny asked, gesturing to the TV screen.

"Chelsea are about to equalise.," Gao Bo raised his glass and drank it down.

It was now 44 minutes and United were still 1-0 ahead of Chelsea.

'No way, Manchester United won't give Chelsea a chance like this...."

"Half time is almost over, and the players on both sides are probably thinking about the second half......"

The fans in this tavern are talking a lot, and the fans in England know the ball very well, and they will not change their opinions because of the judgment of Gao Bo as a professional number.

Fat Kenny grinned and simply took a few sips on the bottle.

"Hehe, how about we make a bet, if Chelsea scores before the end of the first half, your drink money today is mine, if you don't score, I'll have a free drink today....." The strong man squeezed his eyes, "Dare to bet, Chinese?" ”

"Hey, Kenny Sr., you're so unkind....."

"Isn't that bullying..."

There was a fight in the tavern.

"Then I'll thank you for having a treat today..."Gao Bo grinned and raised his glass. As a person who has come before, he knows all too well what the process of this Champions League game will be like.

At this moment, the first half was 45 minutes into the game, and it was close to the end of the half. Essien shot from the outside of the penalty area, in fact, he didn't plan to do anything with this goal, just ended himself with a happy kick, after all, he was also very uncomfortable in the first half against Ronaldo. The ball hit Rio Ferdinand's leg and then Vidic's back, and the ball landed in the middle of the box after two blocks. This position is not close to goalkeeper Van der Sar, and he can't get the ball out, so he wants to attack and get the ball, but he falls on his head. Frank Lampard, who happened to be following him, ran into this position from outside the penalty area and hit the ball into the net with his feet. 1-1 Chelsea equalised.

There was a cheer in the tavern, this is London after all, and Chelsea's fan base in London is still better than Manchester United.

There were also some fans with their foreheads on their hands, clearly frustrated that Chelsea had equalised.

But whether it was cheering or frustrated, fans quickly refocused on Gao Bo.

Gobo had just said that Chelsea were going to score, and Chelsea did. Is there anything more amazing than that?

Kenny was also part of the cheering crowd, and the old fat man was also a Chelsea fan.

"Coach Gao Bo, even if you drink, it's my !! today"

Gobo ignored Kenny, who slapped him on the shoulder, and looked at Frank Lampard, who was celebrating.

Neither side scored in the second half, then extra-time, then John Terry slipped and then United lifted the Champions League trophy.

That's what the rest of the story looks like!

Memories from 2018 and thoughts from 2008 are entangled, and Gao Bo looks at the TV screen, his finger kucks white as he clutches his wine glass.