"I remember Michael saying he didn't want his son to be disturbed by the media." Tang En frowned as he stood in front of Pierce Brosnan.

"Twain. Mr. Twain, you, you misunderstand." Brosnan bent over to catch his breath as he stood in front of Twain. He was so exhausted he could not speak properly. "I did not come here to interview."

He spread his hands to show that he did not bring a camera, and that he also did not bring a recorder pen used for interviews.

"Even my cell phone is out of battery. I just, I just want to lay a flower as a tribute."

"But you didn't know each other." Tang En did not intend to give way.

"Gavin was a Forest fan. So am I."

The two men looked at each other. Tang En thought about it and asked, "Did any reports of the fan riots on the Evening Post come from you?"

Brosnan did not expect Twain would suddenly ask this question. He was stumped for a moment and then he shook his head. "No, I was sent to Newcastle for an interview. I only heard about it when I came back."

Tang En stepped aside and said to him, "Go ahead. The funeral is almost over."

Brosnan thanked Twain and then turned to run inside. Tang En looked at the young journalist who had just turned full time, and he thought, There are good people in the media, too.

Because Tang En lived alone and was not fussy about food, he often settled the issue at Burns' bar. Today, however, he did not ask Burns to provide him with a meal. Instead he was drinking one drink after another in a bar that was not open for business yet.

Burns did not discourage him. On one hand, he knew that Twain was a good drinker. On the other hand, how could he discourage him at this time? He just let him vent.

Just as Tang En was getting tipsy, Michael came in.

"Ah, Michael! There you are... Tomorrow's match, you, you will come and watch, right... Right?" Tang En smiled, and he was slurring.

Michael Bernard looked at Twain, but he did not speak.

The smile on Tang En's face was gone. He stared at Michael and said, "Michael, you... you have something to say?"

"Tony, I'm not going to watch the match tomorrow."

Tang En nodded. "I understand, you just..."

"I will never go again."

"What?" Tang En thought he had heard wrong.

"Thank you." Michael took a glass from Burns, and then turned his head to look at Twain and asked, "Do you want to hear a story, Tony?"

When Brian Clough's Forest team swept across England and the European football world, Michael Bernard had just turned 20. Like most of the other young people his age, he was filled with the energy of a young stallion, and he had a strong fighting spirit. He liked to use his fists to flaunt his manhood.

He and John established a gang, "Naughty Forty", and only fanatical Forest fans were accepted. Before Mark Hodge, he was the gang's leader. John and Bill were his right-hand men. The three of them always charged to the front for every fight. They were unafraid of the bricks hurled by their opponents and the wooden sticks that they brandished. They experienced the team's most glorious years by fighting on all fronts.

If the opponents' fans dared to insult the Forest team, they would have swarmed around and battered them. Even on the away matches, they would fight back. They were proud of their contribution to the honor of the team. They were also proud to have brothers like themselves.

Were they football hooligans? No, they would never admit it. They considered themselves to be the most loyal Forest fans who loved their team the most.

Michael was not happy outside of the matches. He had changed a lot of jobs, but he found it hard to last in these jobs because of his violent temper and impulsive character. But he did not care about that. He only cared about the honor of his gang, the achievements of the team he supported, and animated discussions on the private lives of the leader, Clough, and the players.

He continued to live like that for 10 years. During those 10 years, they had gathered to keep on fighting for the Forest team. And they believed that the fight would last until the day they could no longer brandish their fists.

But this sort of life changed completely on the afternoon of April 15th, 1989.

"That year, we stormed our way easily into the semi-finals of the FA Cup, and our opponent was Liverpool which was powerful at the time. But nobody thought we would lose to them before the match. On the contrary, the Liverpool guys feared us. You must think that's strange, right? Why? Because we had Clough! The Liverpool people would quake in their boots when they heard this name." As Michael spoke, he seemed to have gone back to 14 years ago.

Tang En did not speak. He just listened quietly to Michael telling the story. He did not care that his glass was empty.

"Before the match, we were in high fighting spirits, and everyone wanted to wipe out Liverpool, storm into the finals, and then carry the gleaming trophy home. Do you know... We hadn't won the FA Cup in 30 years. Clough had taken all the championships he could get in the world except for the FA Cup. You know how much we yearned for it." Michael stared at Twain and watched him nod before he continued.

"I still remember that day. It was a sunny day. John and I, we had set off three hours ahead with the others from Nottingham to Sheffield, to get everything ready and wait for the match to start." Michael began to speak more slowly. This memory was too painful for him. For the longest time, it had haunted him like a nightmare.

"We were in the second section of the stands, and the third section next to us was where the Liverpool fans were. At the time, I thought it was a really good opportunity for us to taunt them throughout the match." When he reached this point, Michael paused for a long time. But Tang En had already guessed what had happened next.