Breaking News: Tuttosport has announced that this year's Golden Boy Award will be presented ahead of schedule.
Due to force majeure and the congested calendar caused by adjustnts to the Champions League fixtures, Tuttosport will fast-track the vote count and hold the Golden Boy Award ceremony on December 7.
The final shortlist for the Golden Boy Award has just been released. Liverpool's Leo Lin stands out as the overwhelming favorite, widely seen as the frontrunner—he has virtually locked up the award.
According to reliable sources, this year's ceremony will be co-hosted by Casillas and the beautiful journalist lis.
The sudden change in the award date didn't seem to surprise Barnett at all.
As far as he was concerned, the race for this year's Golden Boy was already over. In his mind, Leo Lin was the unquestioned winner.
With the Golden Boy ceremony brought forward, clubs across Europe were granted a brief period of rest.
At ho, Leo Lin and Barnett talked over plans for the future. After winning the U17 World Cup, Leo Lin had surged past all his rivals, all but securing the Golden Boy Award well ahead of ti.
"I've invited a friend over to your place today," Barnett said. "Bruce—a well-known artist here in England. He's made a piece of art especially for you, the soon-to-be Golden Boy winner."
Barnett's friend Bruce was a renowned English artist, famous for creating works of great value using the simplest paints.
At the height of his career, a painting he completed in just three days once sold in London for a staggering £100,000.
Leo Lin had rarely been exposed to art before—he didn't really understand it.
Half an hour later, Bruce arrived. To Leo Lin's surprise, he was seated in a wheelchair, pushed into the house by his beautiful housekeeper. Barnett imdiately stepped forward to embrace him, their closeness obvious at a glance.
"Leo, I've heard so much about you from Barnett," Bruce said.
Bruce was strikingly handso. Though age had caught up with him, traces of his forr charm still lingered—he must have been a heartthrob in his younger days.
"This is the artwork I made for your Golden Boy Award," Bruce said.
"And don't tell Gareth Bale—I think this one's far better than the piece I gave him back then."
After that, Bruce exchanged a look with Barnett, and the two burst out laughing.
Leo Lin accepted the painting. Even without much exposure to art, he could tell it was beautiful.
On the canvas, a dreamlike version of himself stood alongside a realistic Golden Boy trophy. The trophy's glow illuminated the ethereal figure completely, making it shine with a brilliant radiance.
"To be honest, I was never that into art before," Leo Lin said sincerely. "But this really moved ."
"I love it, Bruce. Thank you."
"Though… I haven't actually won the Golden Boy yet. The ceremony hasn't even happened."
Bruce laughed loudly, clearly relieved that Leo Lin liked it.
"Walk down any street in England and ask around—everyone knows the Golden Boy is yours. That's already set in stone!"
Laughing, they moved into the living room and sat down around Leo Lin's favorite wooden tea table.
Whenever Barnett was with Bruce, he seed especially relaxed. The two chatted freely, breaking into laughter from ti to ti. They had been close friends for years, and Barnett often sought Bruce out during his downti.
"Listen to ," Bruce said. "Let design an evening gown for her. You take it to her, apologize properly, and I guarantee she'll forgive you. Delores isn't that unreasonable."
Barnett sounded hesitant—a rare mont of uncertainty that Leo Lin seldom saw in him.
"Forget it," Barnett replied after a pause. "Let think it through. When the timing's right, I'll go get her back. She's mine. She always has been."
Whenever Barnett ntioned Delores, his eyes lit up with a kind of intensity Leo Lin had never seen before.
This unintentional exchange caught Leo Lin's attention. Barnett had never spoken about Delores before, but from Bruce's tone, it was clear she was soone extrely important to him.
Most likely a longti partner, Leo Lin thought, though it seed there had been so kind of misunderstanding between them.
He didn't pry. Everyone had their own secrets, and Leo Lin understood that. If the chance ca later, he wouldn't mind helping Barnett win her back.
Though confined to a wheelchair, Bruce remained remarkably optimistic.
"Leo," he said earnestly, "speaking from experience—don't act recklessly when you're young. Especially after you've made a lot of money and earned plenty of honors. Keeping a low profile is what matters most."
"Otherwise, if you get into trouble you can't handle, you might end up like —good-looking face, stuck in a wheelchair, being pushed around all day while flirting with girls."
"Damn it, I used to outshine Barnett. I was the most popular guy on all of Anfield Road."
"But now? He's definitely more popular than I am."
Barnett laughed and waved his hand, putting on a show of modesty.
"Bruce, we're old now. This is the era of young people like Leo Lin."
Just as they were chatting, the doorbell rang again—another new visitor had arrived.
Barnett had invited Liverpool's forr Golden Boy, Michael Owen.
Owen's arrival surprised Leo Lin, though given Owen's reputation in football circles as sothing of a jinx…
Barnett had brought Owen in to help Leo Lin understand so of the finer details surrounding the Golden Boy Award and to share what it felt like after winning it.
Back then, Michael Owen had claid the European Golden Boy in much the sa way Leo Lin had this season—through outstanding performances for both club and youth national teams, highlighted by his brilliance in the Youth FA Cup and impressive displays at international level.
"The Golden Boy is definitely yours," Owen said. "If it isn't, I'll be the first to protest."
He sat down beside Leo Lin. Owen also knew Bruce well and had purchased several artworks from him in the past.
"All in all, there's nothing too special about the award," Owen continued. "The ceremony's simple—you show up, collect the trophy, give a short acceptance speech, and that's it."
"The only thing you really need to worry about is dressing well. After you pick up the award, you might find plenty of beautiful won asking for your contact details."
After Golden Boy Owen finished speaking, Leo Lin and Bruce burst into laughter. Only Barnett couldn't bring himself to join in.
"Owen, I invited you here to teach Leo Lin sothing proper," Barnett protested. "Don't lead him astray!"
Owen shrugged it off.
"What's the big deal?"
"Leo's that handso—sooner or later, he'll beco the new standard in football: good-looking and unbelievably good at the ga."
Before Barnett could say anything else, Leo Lin's phone suddenly began vibrating on the table. Once. Twice. Then nonstop. He glanced down in confusion, only to see a string of unfamiliar nas, congratulatory ssages, and a few overly enthusiastic greetings flashing across the screen. Leo Lin froze for a mont, then looked up, completely bewildered. Barnett's expression darkened instantly. Owen, anwhile, leaned back with a grin and nodded toward the phone. "Told you," he said lightly.
User Comments
0 comments from readers