The humid cold wind rolled the dead leaves over the Bailu Lane training ground, and 23 teenagers in Tottenham Hotspur training uniforms trembled slightly in the cold wind. Johnson Williams rubbed the list book of the gold-plated cover in his hand, and the hawk nose cast a distorted shadow under the miserable white street lamp.
My nails were deeply pinched into the palm of my hand, and the memory of the three months after rebirth flashed back in my mind - the shower water temperature in the dressing room was deliberately turned up, the tampered with the sprint data on the physical report, and the Englishman's smile at the corner of his mouth at this moment. For the third time this month, I heard him say to the teaching assistant in a gasp, "The yellow-skinned monkey should go to the table tennis court."
"No. 10!" The golden-toothed mouth suddenly grinned, and the tip of Johansen's leather shoes kicked the training bag at my feet. "What about your sincerity?" He deliberately said the word "sincerity" in a sticky and long way, and the action of rubbing the thumb and index finger of his right hand made everyone suffocate.
The training ground fell into a strange silence. I can feel the tight shoulder blades of the black goalkeeper Marcus behind me, and the side face of the left striker Tom. Three months ago, it was these "teammates" who voted collectively in the locker room and agreed to use Asians as scapegoats to protect themselves.
"The sincerity you want is here." I bent down to take out the cowhide envelope in the sandwich, and Johnson's eyes flashed with greedy gold. But when he saw the content clearly, the blood quickly faded from the drunken face - seven high-definition photos, three recording pens, and a copy of the account book he hid in his mistress's apartment.
"Last August, Chelsea scouts received 50,000 pounds and leaked echelon tactics; last month, he forged the injury report of 18-year-old striker David, forcing the player's father to pay a medical deposit..." Every time I read a sentence, I took a step closer. Johansen staggered back and knocked over the scoreboard. "Do you need me to continue to read your account in the Swiss bank?"
Suddenly, a harsh whistle cut through the night sky. The head coach of the first team, Pochettino, appeared on the sidelines with three members of the uniform team, and the Argentine's iconic silver-gray curly hair trembled in the night breeze. Johnson froze in place like a rooster whose neck was strangled. Of course, he didn't know that I had deliberately been with him in the monitoring blind area for the past three months, let alone that the computer in the administrative office was automatically sending report emails to the FA.
"Bang!"
The anger of saving two generations turned into a right-hand punch, and Johnson's 200-pound body hit the turf heavily. There was a slight tingling in my knuckles, but a light blue data stream suddenly appeared in the retina:
[Bone strength +15%]
[Muscle explosive force calibration...]
[Dynamic visual capture has been activated]
The golden light opened in the depths of consciousness, and the treasure chest engraved with the griffin emblem slowly rose in the virtual interface. When Pochettino's footsteps approached, I whispered to my weak body on the ground, "Is this sincerity enough to buy you a ticket to get out of the football circle?"