When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 35 A Sunny, Upbeat Boy (Please Read On!)

Post-match mixed zone.

When asked about Roy, French national team coach Santini showed a rare smile:

"Number 11 jersey? Now you know why I dared to make this decision."

"His positioning isn't what you'd expect from someone his age, and the last ball... (shakes head) that's something you can't teach in training."

"Wiltord? He was a great player, but football never stops for anyone."

Trezeguet's most direct approach:

“I’ve scored a lot of goals, but I won’t try that scorpion kick. It’s not that I can’t, it’s that I know I’ll get yelled at by the coach. And Serie A center-backs would never allow you to do that. The only thing I know is scoring goals, any way.”

Henry's most politically correct:

“He reminds me of myself in 1998, but (raising an eyebrow) I didn’t have the guts to wear my senior’s number back then.”

Desailly is very concerned about his image.
“I grabbed him by the collar in the locker room tunnel and told him: Listen, kid, you earned my respect today, but if you dare to falter in the next game, I’ll personally tear you apart. That’s right, we have to inspire the younger generation to keep moving forward.”

Makelele is the most practical:

“Training? I’m ready to put more pressure on him defensively. (Pause) That way he can learn about the Champions League, the European Championship, and the World Cup, which are not children’s playgrounds.”

Rothen's most passionate:
"You see! He's that kind of young madman, unbelievable. You just need to pass the ball to him and he can score. Of course, my passing is awesome too!"

Zidane is the most intriguing:

"When he asked me in the 87th minute whether I should pass the ball, I said, 'Kick it the way you want.' Now you see the result."

This can be considered a public statement.

The mixed zone was brightly lit and filled with microphones.

Roy stood in front of the camera, his head slightly bowed, a gentle smile on his lips, like a top student just out of the school sports field, rather than an executioner who had just completed a murderous feat at the Stade de France.

How did it feel to make your national team debut?

"You know, this is my first time playing for the team."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the reporters' tense faces, "I saw many predecessors who had won countless honors—I was in Clairefontaine five years ago, watching them compete in the 1998 World Cup."

The reporters' pens hovered over their notebooks.

“At that moment, I told myself, Roy, you have to be like them.”

He suddenly laughed, a youthful dimple appearing on his left cheek. "They later won the World Cup."

Philippe, a senior reporter for L'Équipe, dropped his pen on the floor with a clatter—his smile was so deceptive, as if he weren't the one who had just humiliated the entire defense with a scorpion's tail.

"Zidane is now the best midfielder in the world. Deschamps has achieved everything. He is now my coach. This represents a kind of inheritance that is subtly floating above destiny."

The BBC reporter stared wide-eyed; this didn't sound like the kind of vocabulary an 18-year-old player would use.

“And I’m convinced that ‘you have to be like them’ doesn’t just mean making the national team and enjoying everything that taxpayers and fans provide—” he suddenly looked directly at the camera, “but about winning championships, like the French team in 1998. I’m giving it my all for that goal.”

"A hat trick in his debut?"

He tilted his head, his bangs falling down to cover his eyebrows, like a shy college student after being praised: "That's a good start, isn't it? We won the game, eight to zero."

A reporter from Gazzetta dello Sport suddenly choked, as the boy spoke of the humiliating scoreline in the tone of someone discussing the weather.

“A great score. In my culture, eight is an auspicious number, representing good luck and a bright future.” He winked. “I scored three goals. Yes, three also has a beautiful meaning.”

An AFP reporter frantically flipped through his laptop, searching for information on "Eastern culture."

"The famous Eastern philosopher Lao Tzu said in his writings..." He fluently pronounced in Chinese, "The Tao gives birth to One, One gives birth to Two, Two gives birth to Three, and Three gives birth to all things."

Amidst the stunned stares of the room, he gently translated in French and added: "The first hat trick means that anything is possible in the future."

"Stealing Wiltord's jersey number?"

His smile remained unchanged, even brighter. "Never happened. I didn't know. I accepted the national team call-up and got the number eleven jersey."

"I think this means I'm being asked to take on more responsibility."

Roy slightly adjusted his posture, his hands hanging naturally in front of him, his eyes sincere and peaceful:
"Wiltold was a great predecessor who scored so many incredible goals for the French national team and Arsenal – those goals that turned the tide in crucial moments, those goals that made the whole country boil."

He paused, as if recalling some scene, before continuing:

“I have great respect for him. He is not only an excellent striker, but also a good person. When I first came to the national team, he took the initiative to talk to me, share his experience, and tell me how to adapt to the pace here. In the locker room, he always takes care of the younger players, and I think everyone who has worked with him would agree with that.”

His tone was gentle, but his eyes were firm, and his voice, though unhurried, carried an undeniable composure.

"Of course, I don't think number 11 is 'Wiltord's number.' In the history of the French national team, this number has carried too many legends—for example, Robert Pires, Patrice Locodi, and Deschamps also wore number 11, didn't they? Each of them pieced together the glory of this number with their own performance."

As he said this, a slight smile appeared on his lips, a humble yet confident expression. "When I received this number, it felt like countless voices in my head were telling me: 'Roy, now it's your turn to take responsibility.'"

He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the reporters present, before adding softly:

“I’m sure that Wiltord’s voice must also be in it.”

2003 3 Month 30 Day.

Inside the cabin, the lights were dimmed and the engine hummed.

Four people sat around a table with playing cards scattered on it.

La Coinche is a traditional French playing card.

The gameplay is similar to a bridge match, 2v2, with Zidane and Makelele on one team and Thuram and Trezeguet on the other.

Zidane tapped his fingertips lightly on the edge of the table, considering whether to call.

"80," he said casually.

Makelele grinned and played his trump card.

"Coupe," he said, casually taking the chips from in front of Trezeguet.

Thuram frowned, clutching his cards hesitantly. "Merde" (damn it).

Ultimately, they had no choice but to follow suit.

Trezeguet lost a game and shrugged the cards while cursing.

"Next time I want to be on Claude's team!"

Trezeguet glanced at Roy, who was reclining quietly reading a book next to him, and deliberately raised his voice.

"Hey kid, Juventus is interested in you, you know that?"

Without looking up, Roy turned a page of "Bar Conversation": "Really? I didn't answer the phone."

Trezeguet scoffed: "How much do you earn a week? Eight thousand euros? (He shakes his head dramatically) Less than the cheapest prostitute in Turin—"

When did Turin become so economically developed?!
“David!” Thuram interrupted, frowning. “Don’t act like a vulgar Marseille fisherman.”

Zidane frowned in displeasure, but wasn't really angry: "What did Marseille do to you?"

But as if they had planned it together, Thuram immediately launched into a "Moji-style" sales pitch.

He lowered his voice, mimicking Juventus general manager Luciano Moggi's tone: "Listen, Moggi won't be that stingy. He'll at least give you—"

“A tripled base weekly wage, a Turin city center apartment near the training base, an extra €5000 bonus for each goal, Champions League appearance fees on the side, and even… we’ll take care of your taxes.”

After they finished speaking, Thuram and Trezeguet exchanged a smile, while Zidane, who was listening nearby, gave Makelele a meaningful wink.

"Well, kid, say something!"

“I hardly pay any taxes,” Roy said lazily.

"Oh, Putain!!! When will Monaco annex Italy?"

Trezeguet began leaking insider information about Juventus: "Lippi? A tactical genius, but he hates lazybones. Del Piero is the king of the locker room, don't mess with him, but he won't bully newcomers for no reason as long as you don't try to steal his number. Nedved? A training maniac, you'll hate him. Buffon... the only monster in the team who can stay up all night in bars and still save a penalty the next day."

Thuram added, "And Davis's temper? No problem, we Latinos have your back."

Roy finally closed the book, raised an eyebrow, and repeated, "If they really want me, they'll call, right?"

He sat up. Across the corridor sat a solemn black tower, its eyes half-closed in a light sleep.

Patrick Vieira has rejoined the team after being confirmed to be alright.

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On April 1st, renowned Hong Kong singer and actor Leslie Cheung fell to his death from the Mandarin Oriental Hotel due to a relapse of depression.

—Sing Tao Daily (French Edition)
“曼联公共有限公司公布了2002年7月31日到2003年1月31日间半年的财务报告。这6个月曼联利润为2030万英镑，较上一个财政年度同期的利润3090万英镑大为下降，但是这半年营业额为9260万英镑，较去年同期上涨13%，仍是世界足球俱乐部中的首富。其中，比赛日收入上升了21%，达到4290万英镑。”

— Manchester News

Zidane and Pires have fallen out!
One of the main sponsors of the French national team, Petrol-Kahn Shampoo Company, developed a new shampoo that supposedly promotes hair regeneration. Zidane's side quickly secured this lucrative advertising contract, and the manufacturer even decided to name the shampoo after Zidane.

For over three years, the brand's advertising campaign featured Pires, a man with flowing long hair. Last Tuesday, upon returning to France, Pires was shocked to learn that Zidane had secretly snatched his commercial endorsement, and he was furious.

—France Football

(End of this chapter)