[football] walk side by side

Cristiano glared angrily at Costa, who couldn't straighten up with laughter, and his teammates, who twitched violently despite suppressing the smile, feeling offended: "What's so funny?" He asked.

"I think I understand what you mean," Cyril said with a smile, as if he wasn't the one who was embarrassed by the rejection, and he bumped Costa with his elbow calmly, waiting for the latter to cough lightly After he stopped laughing, he nodded politely: "Thank you again, Mr. Ronaldo."

After saying this, he turned around and walked into the locker room first.

Costa shrugged his shoulders and had no intention of greeting the Lisbon players. He caught up with his captain in two or three steps, and hooked his neck with his right hand: "He is so rude, you still thank him? "

Cyril smiled slightly: "Didn't you notice that he became angrier after I said thank you?"

Costa: "..."

He couldn't help but reflect deeply. When he saw Cyril was rejected just now, he actually felt a little sympathetic to his own captain. Now it seems that he really thought too much. What's so good about that guy who cut it open and it's all black? sympathetic?The person who should sympathize is obviously the angry and unflattering Lisbon No. 28-he can already imagine tomorrow's newspapers, "Lisbon winger plays big, indifferently refuses to change his jersey" and the like.

……

"Seriously, Cristiano, you were really rude just now." Quaresma finally laughed enough, and couldn't help poking his little teammate who was still angry: "It's just a change of jersey, what about it?" ?”

"That goal could have been scored," Cristiano said suddenly.

"What can go in? You mean the one after you broke through Costa?" Quaresma was a little confused: "Didn't that kick the goalpost? What's the matter with Slade?"

"I'm talking about the last goal," Cristiano said with a gloomy face, "He can score that goal by himself - there is no need to give Vargas an assist!"

***

"Cyril?" Costa was a little surprised to find that Cyril, who had showered and left early, was still standing on the side of the boulevard outside the stadium. He opened his mouth and wanted to call his friend—the relationship between the two of them. Home is barely in the same direction, and we can walk a certain distance together.

But when he got a little closer, he realized that Cyril didn't seem to be alone. Right in front of him, there was a middle-aged man in a suit and leather shoes who seemed to be talking to him.

Soon he recognized the man who had intercepted Cyril.

Jose Vega.

Simply bringing up this name may make people feel a little confused, but as long as a prefix is ​​added to this person, no one will have any doubts about this-he is Luis Figo's agent.

Although in European football, Jose Vega may not be called a giant alligator agent, but in Portuguese football, his status is undoubtedly overwhelming.

As the agent of Luis Figo, the captain of the Portuguese men's national team, Jose Vega has an extremely advantage in signing Portuguese players and even coaches. Not to mention, Cristiano who just competed with Cyril Ronaldo, and Porto first-team coach Jose Mourinho, are under his wing.

Such a person stopped Cyril from talking, and the meaning was self-evident.Costa was a little envious-not everyone can be liked by Jose Vega.But he wisely didn't step forward to disturb, but walked away silently.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Slade." Jose Vega looked at the boy in front of him, his tone light: "I don't know if I have the honor, can I buy you a drink?"

"Of course." Cyril also returned a gentle smile, "I think it's my honor too."

The two sat in a coffee shop logically, Vega ordered a mocha, and Cyril shook his head when Vega handed over the menu.

"I don't drink coffee - just give me a glass of water."

Vega was not surprised to hear such an answer. As he knew, Cyril Slade was an extremely disciplined player. He refused to accept everything that was harmful to his career as a player. cultivator.

Vega was even more satisfied. Although the agent didn't care if his player was a bad boy, as long as he had enough strength to earn him a lot of euros, his personality and conduct were not his concern.But if the player himself is safe and well-behaved, it might be a worry-free thing.

"I think you probably understand my reason for coming, yes, just as you guessed," he said straight to the point: "I want to be your agent and take care of all the messy things for you other than playing football."

Cyril listened quietly without speaking.

Vega was not in a hurry either, he took a sip of his coffee with the handle of his cup: "As most Portuguese people know, Luis Figo is my player, and I am proud of it, after all, I have the world's most One of the good players."

"But I also hope that you can understand that this is not all I can do." Having said that, he put down his coffee cup and showed a slightly arrogant smile: "Besides, there are many other companies with unlimited possibilities under my banner." Young players, and—”

He deliberately paused for a while, with some inexplicable meaning in his eyes: "The head coach of Porto's first team, Mr. Jose Mourinho, is also under my banner."

Cyril was silent for a while, then he hesitated: "So, what exactly do you want to say?"

Vega looked at him and said with confidence: "I can give you everything you want-the chance to be promoted to the first team, more exposure and money, and honor." He smiled and talked eloquently: "You know , I have contacts with the management of many Portuguese Super League teams, many of them are my friends, of course, including Porto."

As an agent with sufficient skills and connections, when Vega discusses signing with new players, it is no longer about persuasion, but more about showing-showing his ability to young players and what he can bring to them. coming future.

He continued: "In addition, I can also let you enter the national team as soon as possible. After all, I have many Portuguese international players under my banner. Remember that Ronaldo in Lisbon? He will be able to enter the national team in a short time-the first team, Not the youth team. My ability will be bigger than you think."

Cyril seemed to be convinced by him, and he finally said: "But as far as I know, Mr. Mourinho is not the kind of person who will be influenced by others."

Vega smiled triumphantly, he knew that he had convinced the young man: "Of course, of course I won't affect his decision-making, I'm just making a personal recommendation for you, not interfering with his decision-making Yes, I can give you this chance, but it depends more on yourself, after all, I can't do everything for you, it's meaningless."

"The most important thing is, I believe that you are the kind of player who can fly to the sky only if you have the opportunity. I believe in your strength. You are a player with great potential, otherwise I would not want to sign you. Now, you deserve better -- whether it's the team, the salary, or the circumstances in which you live."

The boy's eyes narrowed, and soon lit up. He seemed to be looking forward to and excited, but he suppressed the excitement in his heart: "Really? I..." He seemed to agree right away, but in the end he Still trying to stay calm, he nodded politely and said, "Thank you very much for your kindness, but I want to discuss it with my mother before making a decision, is that okay?"

"No problem," Vega nodded, no surprise that he once again succeeded in harvesting a powerful young player, at least in Portugal, he believes that no one can refuse his invitation. "This is my phone number. When you are sure that you have made the final decision, you can call me." He handed over a business card with contact information written on it.

Cyril took the business card solemnly and nodded.

"It was a pleasure talking with you, but I have other work to do, so I have to leave first." He called the waiter to pay the bill while he was talking, "Looking forward to your reply." He said with a smile.

"Goodbye." Cyril smiled politely.

José Vega got up and left with a happy mood about his work going smoothly.

What he didn't notice was that the moment he turned around, Cyril's face turned cold instantly. When he pushed open the door of the coffee shop, Cyril tore off the business card and threw it on the table. down the trash can.

"Have you heard enough, sir sitting over there?" Cyril narrowed his eyes, his tone was lukewarm, but his expression became impatient.

Now he is no longer the kind of gentle and humble good man, the corners of his eyes are filled with deep coldness, and the black hair hangs down faintly, half covering his eyes, but cannot cover his eyes. The hard ice in the blue pupils.

That needle-like sharpness and aggression can't be hidden.

Jorge Mendes stood up in embarrassment. He was sitting at the next table where the two were chatting just now-he listened to the whole process while they were chatting.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to eavesdrop on your conversation, but what I want to say is—" Jorge lost his composure for only a moment, and soon he became calm and calm again.He walked up to Cyril and explained his intentions straight to the point: "My name is Jorge Mendes, and I'm also an agent."

Cyril froze for a moment, apparently not expecting such an answer.A suspicious expression appeared on his face, as if he didn't quite believe Jorge's words.

"As far as I know, you don't seem to intend to agree to that person's invitation," Jorge said bluntly after being caught unconsciously eavesdropping, "So may I think that I still Any chance of persuading you, Mr. Cyril Slade?"