As the Chinese saying went, “Good things come in pairs.” For Twain, the happy event was not only their succession of victories. There was something that made him happier than all the victories.
Just two days after the team had just eliminated the Sheffield Wednesday team in the FA Cup and advanced to the fourth round, Freddy Eastwood reappeared at the Wilford training base.
While the players were still training on the training ground and knew nothing about it, Twain had already seen Eastwood in his office.
The Romani Gypsy had cut off his hair that had been left to grow long during his hospital stay and was back to his former crew cut. He had also shaved off his beard and looked completely different from the Eastwood whom Twain had seen in the hospital.
“Welcome back, Freddy!” Twain came forward and gave Eastwood a strong hug.
With his teeth clenched, Eastwood put his chin on Twain’s shoulder and muttered, “I’m back, chief.”
Letting go of him, Twain took a step back and looked carefully at the discharged Romani Gypsy. Eastwood just stood in front of him and smiled.
“How are you feeling?”
“I can move freely.” Eastwood moved his legs up and down.
Twain hurriedly reached out to stop him from doing it, “Don’t, don’t… Stop hurting yourself, you’ve just recovered.”
Eastwood listened to him and stopped moving his legs. He straightened up, looked at Twain again, and laughed.
“What are you laughing about?” Twain laughed too.
“Nothing…” said the Romani Gypsy as he laughed again. “I’m just happy. Finally, I don’t have to go back to the hospital ward. You know, I feel like puking whenever I see the color white!”
Twain threw his head back and laughed till his sides ached and he had to wipe the tears from the corner of his eyes.
David Kerslake, who came in from the outside, heard Twain’s laughter before he had even walked through the door. He was a little puzzled as to what had made Twain laugh so loudly. “Tony? What are you so happy about? Ah!”
Eastwood immediately turned around and saw the assistant manager standing at the door with his mouth agape.
“Freddy!”
“Coach.”
Twain’s laughter subsided as he turned around and looked at the two men. He first pointed to Eastwood and explained, “He has recovered and been discharged.” Then he asked Kerslake, “What can I do for you, David?”
“Well, the team has started training. When I didn’t see you there, I came over to take a look. I can see it’s because of him,” Kerslake said as he looked at Eastwood.
Twain nodded. “I deliberately did not inform you guys. I wanted to give you all a surprise.”
Kerslake came in to glance outside the window at the training ground and laughed. “You did it, Tony. They don’t know.”
Eastwood also came over. That green training ground was a little unfamiliar to him. Spending nine months in the hospital was too long for a professional footballer.
Seeing the glint radiating from the Romani Gypsy’s eyes, Twain clapped his hands. “You want me to go to the training ground, David?”
Kerslake nodded. “Yes.”
“Then let’s go, Freddy. Come on!”
Twain stood at the door and waved to Eastwood standing at the window. The Romani Gypsy took another glance at the sunny training ground outside the window and followed.
※※※
“It’s such a nice day…”
The manager and assistant manager were not here, so the players snuck in a little break during training. If the two coaches were on the sidelines, no matter how much guts they had, they only dared to rest when the chief yelled for a break.
Ribéry looked up at the blue sky and white clouds. In England, such weather was rare during the winter.
“Is it because we have won repeatedly, and this is a special reward from God?”
“Is God a Forest fan?”
“Who knows?”
A group of players took time out to gather for a chat.
George Wood did not join in. He was listening to Albertini’s instructions. The Italian was just telling him how to turn an opponent’s chance into their own opportunity in a flash on the field. The defense in the midfield was the key. But there was a lot more to the specifics of executing it.
A whistle sounded; it came from David Kerslake.
The chattering men were startled. Albertini and George Wood stopped their exchange and turned their heads to look at the sidelines.
The assistant manager, David Kerslake, had a whistle in his mouth. He looked seriously at those players, who were lazing. Wearing a black coat and sunglasses, Twain simply stood next to him, just like any other day. And Freddy Eastwood stood next to them with a smile brighter than the sun.
“I was just absent for a little while and you’re already relaxing?” Tony Twain spoke first with an icy tone. “Or are you only pretending to train hard during the usual training just to put on a show for me?”
Everyone immediately behaved.
“But…” Twain looked up at the sky. He was afraid of the glare from the sun with his sunglasses on. “It is nice weather.”
The teammates around Ribéry heard Twain’s remark and suddenly laughed. The stern atmosphere vanished all of a sudden.
“I’m in a good mood today, so I won’t punish you as long as you win the next game to make up for it.” Twain turned back his gaze and said with a straight face, “See, I’m very kind hearted.”
The team jeered.
Twain laughed as well, and then he waved it aside. “Freddy, come on!”
Eastwood stood up with a smile still on his face.
“This is our first deal in the winter transfer period.” Twain’s introduction made many people feel surprised. Was he leaving? Was this a farewell ceremony? Was he here to say goodbye? Some people’s smiles began to freeze on their faces.
“Freddy Eastwood has just transferred from the Royal Hospital of Nottingham University. To pay back the expenses for his nine months of medical treatment at the hospital which we had paid, he will be joining our team in this season’s winter break as our professional striker, wearing the number 11 jersey.”
Seeing Twain introducing the “new teammate” in all seriousness, the others were overjoyed.
Standing behind him, David Kerslake gave Twain a punch in the back. Twain’s opening remarks had almost given him a scare, even though he was privy to the details.
At the end of his speech, Twain was also happy. He looked back to Kerslake and winked like a kid who had successfully pulled off a prank.
Eastwood’s return made him happier than the succession of victories or the good weather.
After everyone’s laughter had subsided, Twain cleared his throat and his expression was serious again. “But today, Freddy…” He said to Eastwood, who was eager to give it a try, “You can’t train with the team, at least not for some time. You have to train separately to focus mainly on rehabilitation. I want to make sure that your knees are really okay before I will allow you to practice with the team. As for playing in the games… You don’t even have to think about it for one month. Do you understand, Freddy?”
Even though Eastwood was disappointed, he knew that the manager had said it for his own good and wanted to be responsible for his health. If it were another manager who did not care about him at all, he would be expected to just train with the team.
He nodded and said, “I hear you, chief.”
Twain looked at him and smiled. Then he waved to the team doctor, Fleming, standing at the side. When Fleming ran over, he hooked his arm around Fleming’s neck and with their backs to the team, he whispered to him, “Bring him in for the most detailed physical examination, then give me the analysis report. I don’t want to hear just good news. I want the truth. Tell me exactly how he’s recovering and the condition of his knee injury. I want to know how long we have before he’s able to get back on the training ground and into games. Don’t be afraid that he’s going to take long. Just put it down honestly in your report… I’m counting on you!”
Fleming listened carefully and gave a firm nod.
He understood how much this man cared for his players. He was not surprised by what he had said.
After he finished instructing Fleming, Twain turned to Eastwood and said, “Follow him for a physical examination.”
Eastwood nodded.
Twain put his hand on the Romani Gypsy’s shoulder and gently patted it. He opened his mouth and closed it again before he said, “Go ahead.”
Looking at the back view of Eastwood following behind Fleming,, Twain said in his heart, Don’t worry, kid. Your competition season is still long.