22 November 2011, United Kingdom.

Highway junction in the seaside city of Portsmouth, 70 km south of London.

Richards curses a new coach over and over again, his wet coat and shivering body silently accusing "him" of his crimes.

The UK has a typical temperate maritime climate and is an unusually rainy country. Add to that the cold weather in November, and that feeling of clammy chill radiates from the inside out.

It's 2 p.m., and Richards has been waiting here for three hours, and the prettiest school girl at school isn't enough to keep him waiting.

This Londoner, named Hydward, did it.

He thought that this was the easiest job, and he couldn't get the odds with his girlfriend in the second half of the year.

Antonov, the team's Russian owner, promised him a large sum of dollars a week ago.

The owner flew to the UAE for a temporary matter, so he gave Richards carte blanche to receive the team's new head coach.

To this end, he drew up a detailed plan for the most exclusive hotel in Portsmouth; the hottest sauna; The five-star presidential suite, everything is prepared for that man.

The rain was still pouring down, the sky was gray, and he shivered even more in the cold wind, and the rain extinguished Richards' enthusiasm.

His fingers poked at the phone button with rage, and he was going to mistake the keyboard for the brain-dead coach named Hyde Ward.

How can such a man who is used to being late and often playing big names be the savior of his beloved team.

On the screen, a string of numbers pulsed slowly, but he had no hope of making the call.

How could an alarm clock wake up a person who was pretending to be asleep.

"Drop; Drip; Drop~~" After a few busy tones, as expected, the phone hung up.

Damn it! CNM！

Richards silently greeted the new manager's relatives a hundred times in his heart.

For three hours, he was blown and rained, and in addition to hating the guy who released his pigeons, he hated himself even more for renting a convertible sports car in order to pretend to be forced.

At this time, the co-pilot's seat and his body were already in a mess, and Richards endured the discomfort on his body, and turned the key ring with the strength of milk.

Lao Tzu is a fool when he is waiting.

"Boom; Boom" two engine roars, and the silver Chevrolet sedan draws a graceful arc and flies away.

…

"Young man, take the new coach to happy?"

At the door of the club's conference room, a middle-aged man in his 40s was leaning against the wall, looking at the young man who had just walked in with a slight smile.

Richards, apparently furious, kicked the leftover bottle of mineral water into the trash can five meters away.

The man admired his footwork, and applauded and said, "Didn't you get this picture?" ”

He stuck the umbrella in his hand into the slot in the doorway, shook the raindrops, and apparently had just returned.

"But I'm glad you didn't get it, look at this," the middle-aged man slapped the newspaper in his armpit on Richards' chest.

Antonov Suspected of Money Laundering in Lithuanian Banks!! Arrested》

The first thing that catches your eye is this front-page headline written in red.

Richards looked up in some shock, "How is that possible?" ”

Antonov is none other than Championship side Portsmouth and his Russian boss.

"Baby, you're really an afterthought, this news has been spreading for a month"

The man patted him on the cheek and said, "Otherwise, why do you think that old guy Steve is in such a hurry to go to Nottingham Forest?" ”

Richards' expression was still a little sluggish, today was definitely his own Good Friday, he thought silently.

Steve is the former coach of Pompey's legion (Portsmouth is nicknamed Pompey, so Pompey's legion is written here), and the old man in the fifth round of the league left early because of his poor record.

Five rounds of league games, one win, one draw and three losses, in fact, is not an unacceptable result.

However, Steve soon found a new job at Nottingham Forest, taking over Tony Towne's class.

He is a shrewd old man who is more shrewd than anyone else, and now Portsmouth is a coaching black hole, and whoever comes is sent to death, and the team is rotten from the roots.

"He's just a coward," Richards' voice rang out, and he finally reacted to football.

He was still immersed in the pain of tens of thousands of dollars missing, soaked in the rain for hours, and the maintenance of that Chevrolet sports car was not a small expense.

Thinking about it, the whole person is not good, the new coach is an even more asshole guy than Steve.

Richards straightened his messed hair and said, "Tom, you're well-informed, what's the way that Hydward came from?" ”

The middle-aged man is a lawyer who has started his own law firm in the city and has been working with Portsmouth Club for almost eight years.

Mature, bold and never disappoints.

"I don't know anything," Tom said helplessly.

"His resume is blank, as if it was conjured out of thin air."

He was also shocked when he first got the news, he was not an international player, he did not have any history of football, and he found nothing in the official database except for a certificate.

Richards' eyes widened in surprise and said, "What are you kidding, this is a Championship club with a long history, how could a nobody be allowed to enter the house!" ”

Tom pulled out a few folded notes from his bosom and said: "This is a copy of Hydeward's England B coaching certificate, and he is legally qualified to coach a Championship team." ”

“B…… Level?! ”

There are a total of 5 levels of coaching qualifications in the UK, B level is just enough to allow coaching a Championship, A level and above can coach the Premier League, and expert level can become a FIFA lecturer through application.

However, in most top or minor leagues, a B certificate is just enough to get a job at a club. Hydward is just on the line of the FA's 2011 regulations.

Tom raised his right hand and closed Richards' unclosed mouth, saliva on his fingers, and he rubbed hard against his brother's clothes.

"Let's go, I'll treat you to coffee", Tom gives Richards a hug, the injured person always deserves to be treated well.

The man unlocked the door, and the conference room had a large floor-to-ceiling window through which the football training pitch was overlooked, now obscured by brown curtains.

Tom asked, "Instant don't mind, I only have espresso." ”

I filled a small half cup with a mug, and the mellow fragrance diffused in the air, and the color was black like gasoline. Richards took a cautious sip, and the taste that was bitterer than Chinese medicine directly stimulated his taste buds.

"Bitter!" A thousand words came to my heart, and there was only one word in my mouth, and my tongue and eyebrows were about to tie into a knot.

This bitter cup of coffee is very similar to Richards, and the situation of Portsmouth, who are also facing bankruptcy.

"It's dark."

Disgusted by the darkness of the room, Tom walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window and slammed the curtain open.

It was daytime, and although it was raining lightly, the light was shining in and driving away the darkness in the room.

Outside, there was a green meadow, and the grass poked its head out, straightened up, and danced in the wind.

There was a faint commotion on the green field, but it was not clear through the thick glass.

Tom's hand opened the window halfway through, and paused, unaware that the wind was blowing rain splashing his cuffs.