With a "ding" sound, a rush of many footsteps came from the elevator direction. Tang En, who was sitting and drinking tea in the lobby by the window, turned his head.

The players, who just had a short break, came out from the elevator. Someone was still yawning. Des Walker quickly came out from among the players, turned around to look at the elevator and loudly urged, "Come on, hurry up! Don't look like you're still half asleep, now is not time for afternoon tea!"

Ever since he had determined the goals and direction that the team was striving for this season, the man had regained his passion for work overnight.

Tang En looked down at his wrist watch, it was 1:55. It was just right for the team to set out at this time. He put the cup back on the table, folded the newspaper which rested on his knee and put it back in the newspaper rack next to his seat. He then got up and walked to the hotel front door.

It is now almost two o'clock in the afternoon on December 17th. At the Scottsdale Hotel in South London, a red coach, printed with the words "Nottingham Forest" and the Forest team logo, parked quietly at the entrance and waited to drive them to their destination, The Den.

When they saw their unspeaking manager standing by the door, the players unconsciously began to trot up and hurry to get on the bus. A few players did not understand why the manager was not happy when they had just defeated Crystal Palace, their direct rival to avoid relegation, in the league.

Since the start of the second day of training after the match, few people had seen Manager Tony Twain smiled.

All the players got on the bus, and Walker walked up to Twain and said to him, "Tony, everyone's here."

"Well. What about the coaching team?"

"They went first, with the equipment."

Tang En nodded, "Good, let's go, too."

Just as he was about to step onto the bus, he suddenly heard someone calling him from behind, "Mr. Twain! Wait! Mr. Twain hang on a minute!"

"Ah, Brosnan." Tang En turned to see the Nottingham Evening Post reporter with his little black leather notebook in his hand, panting as he ran out of the lobby. "What's the matter?"

Brosnan ran up to him out of breath, bent down at the waist and gasped for a moment with his hands on his knees, before he got up and looked at the bus, and said to Twain intermittently, "Very… sorry, could you please give me a lift?"

His request was a bit of a surprise to Tang En. "You want me to let a reporter on the team bus? Brosnan, your request is really... unusual."

"I'm really, really sorry... I overslept, and my colleagues were gone. They must have thought I set off first." Brosnan helplessly explained the embarrassing situation.

"You can call a taxi." Tang En pointed at the street.

"My... my wallet was in my bag which was taken away by my colleagues," Brosnan blushed.

Tang En sighed and looked at this unfortunate man and thought about the nice things he had written in the newspapers on his behalf. Now that he had some difficulty, it would be a little unconscionable if he did not help him.

Walker got onto the bus and found that Twain did not follow behind, and the players all looked out of the window, so he jumped down from the bus, "What's the matter, Tony?" He saw the Evening Post reporter standing next to Twain. "Brosnan, now's not the time for an interview."

"Mr. Walker, I'm not here for an interview."

Tang En interrupted him and said to Walker, "He's a poor bastard who has been left behind by his colleagues because he overslept. And now he has to hitch a ride with us."

Then he waved to Brosnan, "Get on the bus! Be glad you're not a woman."

There were some taboos in professional football that could not be ignored in any country. For example, women were absolutely prohibited to ride on the same bus with the players. That would be seen as an ominous sign of failure. That was why Tang En had said that. If Brosnan was a female reporter, then even if Tang En agreed, the rest of the team would also adamantly oppose having a woman riding on the same bus, going to The Den. Everyone would become very sensitive and superstitious before a big match.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Twain! And, Mr. Walker, thank you." Brosnan gratefully thanked the two coaches and tried to shake hands, but Tang En shoved him up the bus instead.

"Stop talking nonsense! We have been delayed long enough. If you want to thank us, then continue to help us by putting in a few good words in the newspapers!"

"Of course, of course." Brosnan stumbled up the bus and saw a group of players curiously looked at him, so he waved hello awkwardly. "Hello, everyone... I, uh, I..."

Just as he did not know how to explain his abandonment by his colleagues, Tang En came up from behind, pointed at him and said to the players, "This unlucky chap is an Evening Post reporter who overslept and is without a single cent on him!"

"Boo—" There was a gloating hiss and laughter in the bus.

"Mr. Reporter, tomorrow's Nottingham Evening Post front page headline will not be about us advancing to the EFL Cup semi-finals, but you!" yelled a player, which caused the other players to laugh even louder. Even Tang En had a smile on his face. He patted Brosnan's shoulder and motioned for him to sit down next to him.

"No matter what you see or hear in this bus, I don't want to see it in tomorrow's papers. I'm just giving you a lift, but you're not allowed to interview."

Brosnan nodded. "Rest assured, Mr. Twain. I know what I should and should not say."

"That's good. I'm only letting you ride on the bus because I trust you." After that, Tang En stood up, raised his arms and shouted, "Drive! Let us go to Millwall's home ground and destroy those b*stards!"

"Yeah--!!" The players brandished their fists and echoed in unison, their sluggish energy completely swept away.

Brosnan secretly wiped his sweat, no wonder Twain would not let him put what he saw and heard in the newspapers. These things might only be disclosed later when he decided to retire to work on a book he planned to write about the Nottingham Forest or Tony Twain, or his own personal biography.

※※※

The red bus traveled through the crowded traffic on the London roads. At this time, any road leading to The Den was estimated to have a high traffic flow. Others did not value this game, but the Millwall fans who lived in the vicinity placed a lot of importance on it. They flocked to The Den from all directions to watch the EFL Cup quarter finals. Half a season had passed and Millwall was still in the middle of the League table. Judging from the situation, it would be extremely difficult for them to advance to the Premier League in the remaining half of the season. Therefore, they were pinning their hopes on the "neglected but hotbed" EFL Cup and the FA Cup.

Along the way, they could see cars carrying Millwall fans driving past the side of the Forest team bus. Those fans, wearing in the blue and white Millwall jerseys, would stick their heads out of the cars when they saw the Red Forest bus. They snarled and bared their teeth at them as they brandished their fists and gave them the middle finger. By making out the shapes of their mouths while they were shouting obscenities, they could understand the meaning of their swearing.

Seeing these people reminded Tang En of Mark Hodge. That middle-aged man, who usually looked agreeable, would become an abominable beast when he was at the stands and had even a drop of alcohol. But even so, he was nothing compared to the Millwall's football hooligans.

After Gavin's accident, Tang En never heard that man's name again, nor did he go to the Robin Hood bar where the football hooligans gathered. Maybe Hodge had left football, just like Michael; maybe he was still active in the stands, but just as an ordinary fan; or perhaps he was now leading his men in some corner in the big city of London, where the CCTV cameras and policemen could not cover, and waging a battle with the Millwall football hooligans who defeated them in the 'battlefield' last season, all for their glory.

Not only in football, these people were also the black spots in the entire British society and could hardly be eradicated. No matter how the government cracked down on them, these football hooligans who came from the grassroots and had taken root would develop alongside with the growth of this sport, just like the shadows beneath the feet. Maybe some people would sympathize with and understand them, just like he did initially. There would even be some people who would support, envy, desire to join them, become a new football hooligan, brandish their fists, and burn with anger to fight for the honor of their gangs and team.

Since entering the 21st century, there had been signs of a revival in British football hooliganism. They had learned to assemble their crews online, to discuss strategies for fighting against rival firms, and to set out the routes for their destinations, which made it impossible for the police to defend effectively. Tang En was not a saint who loved everything in the world altruistically, nor was he able to stop these young men who were stuffed with muscle and alcohol. He just hoped that a tragedy like Gavin's would not happen around him again. He regretted not stopping that fight in time the last time. Now he would not allow anyone to harm his friends or anyone else in his life.

Snapping out of his contemplation, Tang En suddenly realized that the view outside the window had not changed for some time. He looked strangely at the front and looked at the back again.

The bus had stopped and just like them, all the surrounding vehicles had stopped too.

"Des, what's going on?" He asked Walker in the front.

Walker looked back at him and shrugged, "I don't know. We're stuck here."

Tang En stood up and looked inside the bus. All the players seemed unaware of anything strange. They were all busy with their own things, listening to music, resting with their eyes closed, on the phone, or chatting with their teammates.

So, he sat down again. He did not know what was going in front of them. Anyway, it was a traffic jam, and there was nothing to be done except to wait patiently. He hoped it was only temporary and would not delay the game which was about to start soon.

He glanced outside the window again. He could not see past the traffic in front and at the back. Even if he wanted to let the driver turn the bus to look for another way out, it could not be done with all the cars around them.

As there were more anxious drivers honking their car horns outside the bus, Tang En felt disturbed by these ear-piercing intense noises. He suddenly felt a sense of foreboding emerging inside him, like the dark clouds gathering in the sky.

The players in the bus began to notice the situation outside when the bus driver could not help but urgently press on the horn. Someone stood up and looked around, someone took off his headphones, pointed outside the window and chattered with the others, while another opened his eyes from taking a little breather and stared strangely at the stagnant traffic outside the window. Tang En noticed the little commotion inside the bus. He looked back, waved downwards and said loudly, "Sit down and continue with what you're doing!"

The bus was quiet again, but Tang En could not erase the puzzled expressions on the players' faces.

And the dark clouds inside him gradually gathered with the incessant car horns outside and without any sign of the traffic moving.

He looked down at his watch, and it was half past two.

The kick-off time was three o'clock sharp!

Just then, Walker's cell phone and Brosnan's cell phone both rang at the same time.

Walker looked at the number and said to Twain, "It's the coaching team..." and then pressed the answer button.

Brosnan also looked down at the number and excused himself to Twain, "It's my colleague." Then he got up and went to the front of the bus to answer the phone.

"Hello? You're all there… Us? We're still on the road ..." Walker looked out of the window at the motionless traffic. "It's a traffic jam... It's serious! Yes, what? They're warming up?" His voice grew anxious and at the same he looked at Twain.

Tang En looked down at his watch again, a minute had passed, there were only 29 minutes to the start of the game!

Damn it! He cursed in his heart.

On the other side, in the front, Brosnan's voice grew louder. "Yes, I'm sorry, Mr. Robson, I overslept. Where am I now? I'm on the bus with the Forest team, and I've gotten a ride on their team bus…. No, I think we're in a traffic jam. What? A car accident?!" Brosnan could not help screaming loudly, then he turned and apologetically look at Twain, hoping that he was not annoyed. "Are you sure, Mr. Robson? You're certain. Well, I don't know if I can." He looked at all the players who had stood up and did not continue.

The players in the bus were no longer quiet, they stood up and looked around in a panic, whispering to each other.

Tang En had ceased to ask them to be quiet. In fact, he could not ask. He turned his head to look out of the window, and there was an increasing steady stream of restless horns. He forced himself to calm down in this environment. At this time, everyone in the entire team looked at him and placed all their hope on him. He was the team manager and someone whom everyone would choose to trust in an emergency. He must not show the slightest bit of panic.

Suddenly, he saw a building by the street in front of them which looked like an entrance to an underground pedestrian tunnel.

He got up from his seat, walked to the driver's side and asked, "How far away are we from the stadium?"

"About five miles, sir." The driver looked at the map shown by the GPS satellite locator on the bus and replied.

Tang En nodded, "Please open the door!"

Then he turned to the players on the bus who were at a loss and said, "Lads, there's good news now: you don't have to warm up on the field later." He pointed to the open door, "There's also the bad news: leave all your odds and ends in the bus and let's all run now! We're taking the underground!"