When the referee blew the final whistle at Anfield, the Liverpool supporters in the stands raised their scarves high. After their cheers, they sang "You'll Never Walk Alone" in unison.
The scene was magnificent.
Swansea's players stood where they were, hands on hips, looking up at the scoreboard.
3-1.
By international convention, the ho team ca first and the away team second.
Swansea had lost. The Swans had been stopped by the Reds outside the League Cup quarter-finals.
In truth, for a Division Three club, it was almost impossible to reach the semi-finals. To dream of a fourth-tier team winning the League Cup was little more than fantasy.
The dream had ended.
Swansea's players realized that while they, young and weak as they were, could stir up a youth storm in Division Three, and had even thought that this storm might sweep across English football, reality had smashed their innocence to pieces.
Their dominance in Division Three had made them float a little. Now they stood at a crossroads.
Would they pity themselves after suffering a blow?
Or would they recognize reality, plant their feet firmly on the ground, and continue forward?
With the mocking voices of Liverpool fans lingering in his ears, Lynn remained expressionless, chest lifted, and walked toward Houllier.
The Frenchman's attitude was rather casual, as if Lynn was not worth ntioning. After giving Lynn a hurried handshake, he turned and walked straight into the players' tunnel.
Lynn strode after him. Looking at Houllier's back, his gaze beca increasingly firm.
Just as a person's strength could be judged by the opponent he faced, in Houllier's eyes, Lynn could not even be considered an opponent!
So Houllier could calmly choose to ignore him.
After today, Liverpool would still be the focus of the Premier League and even European football, while Swansea would return to Division Three, buried layer after layer beneath the Premier League.
There was no need to keep Swansea in mind.
Lynn returned to the dressing room and waited for the players. Once everyone was back, he looked at his squad, now filled with frustration and disappointnt, and smiled faintly.
"I hope the grand ambitions you had an hour ago are still there. Don't tell they were just impulsive hot-blooded boasts."
The players laughed.
At the sa ti, their gazes beca unusually sharp.
In front of Liverpool, they were ants.
From now on, they would set their hearts on becoming giants!
Lynn wanted the players to rember today's defeat, but not because he wanted to instill hatred and revenge in them. He wanted them to understand their own shortcomings and see how far they still were from the top level of the Premier League.
He left the dressing room and went to Anfield's press room.
The Fleet Street reporters were already seated there, waiting.
Although Liverpool had boycotted The Sun after the Hillsborough disaster, when the paper had baselessly shifted bla onto Liverpool supporters, they had never refused The Sun reporters entry to the club for interviews.
After all, The Sun's readers were spread across Britain. It was not sold only in rseyside.
When Lynn walked into the press room with his usual expression and sat at the center of the stage, not a single reporter wanted to ask a question.
Among the dozen or so reporters, Lynn saw several familiar faces.
Ian Clark of The Sun. At this mont, he was looking around. Seeing that no one was willing to ask anything, he revealed a playful smile.
Mark Cady of the Daily Star. He had already harshly criticized Lynn in his column today, and now he looked at him with a cold expression.
Rona Whelan of the Daily Express. She seed more curious about the strange atmosphere in the room. She clearly wanted to ask a question, but was hesitating because of the stance taken by all the other reporters present.
Lynn watched these reporters sit there with arms crossed, looking like indifferent spectators.
He raised his gaze slightly toward the ceiling, then closed his eyes and smiled.
So this was Fleet Street giving him a show of strength!
No.
This was another humiliation!
Lynn's stance had always been "limited questions." Every ti he accepted an interview, he only answered three questions.
That worked very well in Wales. Reporters would eagerly compete to ask questions, and Lynn's comnts would beco headline material.
It was part of Lynn's strategy as he thought about how to beco a proper manager and raise his own "professional value."
Words beca precious only when spoken sparingly.
If he spent all day giving long speeches, he would only beco a loudmouth in the reporters' articles.
Today, Fleet Street's counterattack was "no questions."
You only answer three questions?
Fine. We have no interest in you at all!
We will not help you create hype. We will not spread your voice to the outside world!
Even if we make you more famous, we will make sure it is infamy!
Fleet Street did not need to dig news out of a Division Three manager. But Lynn setting his own rules made him appear arrogant, and Fleet Street naturally could not tolerate that. Now, they were using this thod to humiliate him.
Sitting on the stage, Lynn should have been embarrassed.
But he was not angry at all.
On the contrary, he smiled at everyone and said, "Since no one has any questions, there's no need for us to waste ti."
Lynn stood up and walked away calmly with a smile.
Watching Lynn leave, Ian Clark sneered. "Does he really think he's a star? He's only famous in Swansea and Wales. Too bad he isn't coaching rugby. Those Welsh country bumpkins haven't seen what real football is, so they treat him like sothing special. Acting like a big shot in front of us? Is he even worthy? Idiot!"
Mark Cady said calmly, "Ian, look at it from another angle. He has already made history. English football has never had an Asian manager before. He is the first."
"So what? Can Asians even play football?"
After saying that, Ian Clark stood and left first.
As all the reporters headed outside, Rona Whelan slowed her steps. Once everyone had left through the door, she turned back, slipped through the side door of the press room, and went to wait outside the away dressing room.
When Swansea's players, coaches, and traveling staff ca out, Whelan called directly to Lynn.
"Mr. Lynn, do you have a mont?"
The players all stopped.
At any other ti, they would definitely have whistled and teased the Boss.
But today, after losing, their moods were poor. They glanced at Rona Whelan, quickly looked her up and down, then continued walking toward the parking lot.
Lynn saw that Whelan was wearing a beige coat today, still with those large black-rimd glasses. Looking at her now, her figure no longer seed as unnaturally thin as before.
Lynn nodded to his coaching colleagues. After everyone left, he walked over to Whelan and asked, "What is it?"
He wanted to see what trick this woman was trying to play.
Rona Whelan raised her wrist, glanced at her delicate Swiss watch, then asked Lynn, "Would you like to have a late-night al together? It's ten-thirty now. By the ti you return to Swansea, it'll be midnight anyway."
Lynn narrowed his eyes slightly and thought to himself: Strange. Has my charm suddenly shot up recently?
At this hour, when nightlife had only just begun, facing an invitation that looked ordinary on the surface but easily inspired imagination, Lynn's curiosity was truly piqued.
Although he was not in the mood to hunt for romance tonight or spend a passionate evening with a beauty, he still accepted Whelan's invitation.
Whelan drove a small BMW. Sitting inside her car, Lynn felt sowhat uncomfortable.
Whelan casually said, "The space is a bit small. Don't mind it. My parents gave this to when I was in university. It's already a little old."
Lynn nodded casually, then said nothing as he looked out the window, lost in thought.
Seeing that Lynn was silent and that the atmosphere inside the car was growing awkward, Whelan asked, "Have you been to Liverpool before?"
"Three tis. Once with a good friend to experience the nightlife here. Once to go shopping with a woman. And once to recruit at John Moores University."
"Oh? Recruit?"
"Mm. Business secret. I won't tell you."
"You're really funny. It's not a player transfer. What business secret could there be?"
"Looks like the ones who don't understand are the so-called professionals."
The mont Lynn finished speaking, Whelan seed a little annoyed. But thinking that Lynn did hold professional coaching qualifications and had genuinely led his team to so results, she found that she had nothing to refute him with. So she let it go.
To Lynn's surprise, Rona Whelan parked the car in an alley only five minutes away from Liverpool's Chinatown.
Through the car window, Lynn looked at a restaurant in the alley nad MR. CHILLI.
Over the years, he had rarely been in a bad mood, but there were still tis when things did not go his way. And whenever he was in a bad mood, he would suddenly hate Western food with a passion and want nothing to do with it!
When he felt down, he wanted to satisfy and cheer himself up with a good Chinese al!
Perhaps this was one of the ways people differed from one another.
In many people's eyes, everything Lynn possessed should have been enough to bring great satisfaction and pleasure.
If he was in a bad mood, he could go racing. He could go to bars and pick up won. He could spend tens of thousands of pounds in a single night getting drunk. He could even go to a hotel and enjoy the services of an escort.
But when Lynn was in a bad mood, what he wanted most was delicious Chinese food!
Perhaps it was precisely because it was so rare around him.
Whether Whelan had done this intentionally or by accident, bringing Lynn here for a late-night al put him in a much better mood as soon as he got out of the car.
"When I saw the direction you were driving, I thought you were taking to Liverpool's Chinatown. I didn't expect a place like this. Rona Whelan, not only are you treating to a late-night al, you even specially found a Chinese restaurant. Hehehe. Looks like you want to take quite a lot from tonight."
Lynn's words carried a double aning.
Rona Whelan smiled at him. "Sir, you're overthinking it. I went to university in Liverpool, and one of my roommates happened to be a Chinese international student. She loved searching for Chinese restaurants in Liverpool. Whenever we went shopping or hung out together, she often dragged to Chinese restaurants to eat. This was the one she ca to most often."
After hearing this, Lynn waved casually. "No need to explain that much."
Rona Whelan rolled her eyes at him helplessly, showing a distinctive charm.
With a smile on his face, Lynn walked into the Chinese restaurant.
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