In reality, the main reason for the media's big fuss over such an unknown player being hired was the "gag order" which Tang En had announced after the incident with Millwall. He forbade all players and staff from accepting any interviews from the media. At the same time, the team's training had changed from being open to being closed off. Not even their fans, let alone reporters, were able to get their favorite player's autograph by the field.

The fans were more understanding; they knew that it was for the sake of the team's performance. But the media was different. Not letting them interview the team took away their ability to create news, which in turn prevented them from making money. The English media industry was very competitive, and any reporters who were unable to churn out articles would most likely lose their jobs. The media therefore hoped that the other football clubs would be more cooperative.

But Tang En understood less than anyone the minute details of all of this. He only felt that the team needed a quiet atmosphere to readjust in preparation for the series of important upcoming matches. Therefore, he directly announced the team's enclosed training, not realizing that in doing so, he was offending the media that had once liked him so much. Even his newest player, Freddy Eastwood, was not spared from it. His personal life had become an excuse to question his abilities.

Tang En had seen all of the news articles. Such doubts were enough to destroy a young player like Eastwood; he had not even done anything yet, and he was already being completely written off. If his emotional stamina were any lower, he could have been completely drowned in the media storm.

But Tang En wasn't worried. Eastwood showed no signs of being affected by it during training. Either he never read sports-related newspapers, or he was just confident in his own abilities. Tang En was more inclined to believe the latter, based on the understanding of Gypsy that he had gained over the past few days.

As such, he put the Gypsy onto the team's name list for the next match. If the opportunity arose, he would consider letting Eastwood onto the field. There was no better way to rebut the ignorance of the media than by proving them wrong through his own actions.

※※※

It was January sixth, the morning before the day of the match. Rarely seen sunlight appeared in the skies over Nottingham, putting Tang En, who had arrived at the field early, in a good mood as he waited for the players.

Because the next day's game was an away match, the team had to assemble that morning and take a coach bus to Sunderland together. In the afternoon, they would familiarize themselves with Stadium of Light in preparation for the next day's match.

Tang En saw the familiar blue tow car parked silently inside the gates. Tang En's eyes drifted along the small path outside of the training field, and in the distance he saw a man on a horse cantering towards him. The crisp, clear clattering sound hoofs broke the morning silence of the training grounds.

"Good morning, Freddy." Tang En waited for the gypsy to approach before raising his hand and greeting him.

"Good morning, Sir." Freddy jumped off the horse, gripping the reins tightly in his hand. He appeared to be in a fairly good mood.

"Are you getting used to life here?"

"More or less. It's very quiet here, not many disturbances. Sabina and I both like it."

Tang En nodded. "That's great. If you have any difficulties, just bring them up to the club. Anything can be resolved… you know, aside from building a stable."

Eastwood laughed. He patted the black horse's neck and tidied up its glossy mane. "It's doing fine at the pet shop. Sabina and I went to lots of places before we finally found one that was willing to take it in. No other shops had a big enough space."

"Well, if you'd said that you were a Nottingham Forest player, I think they would have been more willing."

"Yes, Sir, I mentioned it. If I hadn't, that shop's owner wouldn't have agreed to it."

Tang En chuckled. "Freddy, once you score goals during the matches, I think that that owner would be eager to sign a pet-feeding contract with you."

The conversation topic then shifted naturally toward the matches.

"Have you seen the media's comments about you?" Tang En asked.

Eastwood nodded. "I've seen them all. Nothing new. It's all the same old stuff." He shrugged his shoulders and said in disdain, "There's no proof that I'm not a good player. Will I be playing in this match, Sir?"

Tang En shook his head. "I don't know," he said truthfully. "Depends on the situation. If we're unable to break the deadlock after too long, I might consider switching you in. You're the only striker that I've brought along as a reserve, so if I have to make any adjustments to the forward line, you're the only person I can switch in."

Seeing that Eastwood was had gone silent and was petting his beloved horse, Tang En asked, "Can you tell me why you like to warm up by riding your house before every match?"

"I'm not sure why… I've always liked horses, so perhaps riding a horse just helps me get peace of mind and calms my nerves. It actually is like that; I've never felt nervous about an upcoming match," Eastwood answered. Tang En believed that this was the secret behind his ability to score so many goals: a calm mind.

He did not care that reporters were fixated on him, and did not care about the media's doubting of his abilities. He did not care how much he earned every week, and did not care about whether his life in a caravan was primitive or not. He did not care what looks people gave him, whether they be of anticipation or disappointment. He never thought about anything that did not concern him.

There were so many people who spent their lives thinking about how much they gained. In the end, they ended up losing even more because of it. Eastwood, the pure gypsy, only wanted to play soccer, and got his first professional contract because of it.

Thinking about this, Tang En said to him, "Freddy, you must have heard the rumors about me, right?" Tang En was referring to the rumors that "Nottingham Forest's manager has the ability to see into the future," which were mostly spread from Burns's Bar.

"Are you referring to the rumors that you're a sorcerer, Sir?"

"That's right, looks like you already know! I have the ability to see into the future!"

"More accurately than us Gypsies?" Eastwood returned with a smile.

"Of course! Freddy, you will score many, many goals in the future, and obtain so many trophies and medals that you won't be able to hold them in both hands. And you will earn lots of money," Tang En said, trying to sound mysterious. "When that time comes, you can buy a plot of land, build a small manor and a stable, and ride your horse around every day to your heart's content!"

Eastwood laughed loudly and said, "Thank you for your suggestion, sir. If I really end up earning that much money, I'll consider it."

"No, no, it's not a suggestion. It's a prophecy. You will become successful. I've never been wrong about anyone!" Upon finishing, Tang En looked at his watch. "Go back and have your breakfast. It's almost time for the team to assemble."

Eastwood bid farewell to Tang En and hopped onto the horse, leaving amidst the sounds of neighing.

Behind Tang En, the red Nottingham Forest coach bus was already stopped in front of the training ground entrance.

※※※

Sunderland, Stadium of Light. There was a large screen located in between the two blocks of fully-seated stands. It clearly displayed which teams were participating in the match, the time passed in the match, and the current score:

Sunderland versus Nottingham Forest, seventy-seven minutes, 0:0.

The stadium was filled with a hubbub of voices, despite the fact that the home team was unable to break the stalemate so late into the match. Despite this, Sunderland's fans continued to cheer and sing loudly to root for the team. Tang En often witnessed similar scenes in City Ground Stadium as well, and he had stopped saying things like "English soccer fans have a lot of sportsmanship" a long time ago.

At that moment, Freddy Eastwood, who was wearing the number 23 jersey, was standing at the side of the field, waiting for a dead ball.

He would be replacing the defensive midfielder Eugen Bopp, and becoming part of a double-arrowhead along with Gareth Taylor. This time, Tang En had decided to deal a fatal blow.

Freddy Eastwood, despite being only twenty years-old, had experienced a great deal of ups and downs in the past year. Due to a bone fracture, Eastwood, who had been raised in Westham United's youth team, had had his future completely ruined. Idling at "home," the only thing he could do was help his father sell used cars. It appeared that he would continue like this for the rest of his life, have a few more children with his wife, and continue staying in the caravan, living the traditional Gypsy life. But still he returned to the field, even though he could only play in amateur matches, which did not have viewing stands and were not broadcast on television. He hoped to prove that he could still play soccer, even though his dream of becoming a professional soccer player appeared to have all but vanished.

That is, until a certain day about one month ago, when a man suddenly came knocking on his door looking for him, and asked him, "Freddy, do you still want to play professional soccer?" The flames of his dreams within his heart had been ignited once again.

This man was the only person who still believed that he could play soccer professionally, so Eastwood joined his team. Now, his first time playing for that team had finally come, even though there were less than fifteen minutes left in the match.

Just one minute ago, that man had called Eastwood over. He asked Eastwood to take off his warm-up vest and prepare to get on the field. The man did not say anything superfluous, and only told Eastwood this: "Fundamentally speaking, professional matches are not much different from amateur matches. So once you get the ball, just shoot, regardless of whether you are outside of the penalty area or inside the goalpost area."

Eastwood continued to chew his gum, his expression relaxed. The cheering sounds of the Sunderland fans could not scare him, and the fourth ranked team in the league could not scare him either. Because, fundamentally speaking, amateur matches were no different from professional matches. They were carried out in the same manner. The goalpost for an amateur match would not be any larger, and a ball used in a professional match would not be any heavier.

"Nottingham Forest is making some adjustments to their team lineup. They are switching out the defensive midfielder Eugen Bopp for the new striker Freddy Eastwood, who has just joined their team from the amateur league." John Motson reported this substitution of players very systematically, and did not think that this switch would make any difference. "Manager Twain hopes to strengthen their offenses, and doesn't want to return to Nottingham empty-handed. But this player substitution is nothing to have high hopes over; a striker who has broken his leg and plays for the amateur league… I don't think that Manager Twain is some philanthropist, but this young lad really does not inspire hope," Motson said, shaking his head.

Finally, Nottingham Forest got an out-of-bounds ball at the front. The fourth official raised the signboard to signal the player substitution.

Bopp ran off the field, panting heavily, and clapped Eastwood's hand before returning to the substitutes' bench.

A male voice was currently reporting the player substitution in a live broadcast. A wave of jeers suddenly came from the home team's stands. Not every player on a guest team would have received this kind of treatment. It was apparent that the 0:0 score not only made the Sunderland players on the field impatient, but also put the fans of the Black Cats in an extremely bad mood.

"Scram back to that village caravan of yours, Gypsy!"

"We'll break your leg all over again!"

"Amateur league brat, you should never have come here!"

Eastwood appeared not to hear any of this as he ran towards the sideline.

The Nottingham player who was supposed to start the ball purposely dragged the match time, aggravating the Sunderland fans. The jeering in the stadium was taken to the next level. It was under these circumstances, where the jeering noises were deafening enough to cause a heart attack, that Freddy Eastwood received the pass from his teammates.

He calmly received the ball, and, after turning around to have a look, discovered that nobody was marking him. Of course; who would care about an amateur player like him, who had once broken his leg and was playing his first professional match? He brought the ball down the middle, and still no one was coming to steal the ball from him.

Tang En's words once again rang in his ears. "….Once you get the ball, just shoot, regardless of whether you are outside of the penalty area or inside the goalpost area."

So he lightly tapped the ball forward, with his left leg bent back slightly, supporting his entire body. Afterwards, he pulled back his right leg, the leg which had once been broken. His body was like a taught bow. After releasing it, a great force was unleashed.

Long — shot!

The soccer ball shot towards the goal posts like a cannonball. The Sunderland goalkeeper sprung high into the air, attempting to stop the ball. But he only managed to intercept the wind. The ball had already grazed past. Behind him, the net was rippling violently.

"EASTWOOOOOOOOOD!" Motson shouted at the top of his lungs. "What a genius shot! What a beautiful goal! A thirty meter-long shot!"

The jeering in the Stadium of Light vanished completely in an instant. Everyone was dumbfounded. The mouths of the people who had been spouting vulgarities hung wide open as though they had forgotten how to close their mouths.

Eastwood rushed towards the side of the field, sliding on his knees. Behind him, his Nottingham Forest teammates were running towards him.

Walker, who gaped at Eastwood as he was being buried underneath the rest his team, excitedly shouted beside Tang En, "Tony! You were right! You shocked everyone! He shocked everyone in Sunderland!"

Tang En, however, was not as overwhelmed as Walker. He only stood in front of the manager's seat and clapped. After all, he had known for a long time that Eastwood could do it. He could score goals, and he would score even more goals.

The television was replaying Eastwood's thirty meter long shot, and Motson's excited voice was still speaking. "This is his first goal, seven seconds after entering the field! Seven seconds for one goal! Seven seconds ago, nobody knew him. Now, allow me to introduce him once again — Ladies and gentlemen, this is Freddy Eastwood!"