Messi was so scared that he cried when he maxed out his header talent at the start of the game

"Congratulations to Manchester City for defeating Arsenal 3-2!"

"Manchester City went from falling behind to equalizing, then falling behind, then equalizing, and finally scoring a last-minute goal!"

"The game was full of ups and downs, and the result was thrilling!"

"This is definitely a classic match that will go down in the history of the Premier League!"

"Bergkamp's volley and Su Fei's last-minute goal."

"It will also become another classic scene in football!"

"Finally."

"Let us congratulate Su Fei again for scoring two goals and an assist, and being elected the best player of the game!"

"Today's live broadcast ends here!"

"I am the commentator Zhan Jun!"

"See you next time, fans!"

Zhan Jun, who cut off the live broadcast signal, was full of smiles, but turned around and saw the unfriendly scene of the black security guard in the studio.

The assistant smiled at the security guard and leaned close to Zhan Jun's ear.

"Teacher Zhan, you were so excited that you slammed the table. The two security guards thought we were deliberately damaging their property..."

"Ahem, this."

Zhan Jun awkwardly flipped through his briefcase, took out two packs of Marlboro cigarettes, and handed them to the two black men.

After receiving the cigarettes from Zhan Jun, the two black security guards looked at each other, put away their hostile eyes, and smiled.

"Teacher Zhan, don't you smoke?"

"Not smoking doesn't mean you can't prepare cigarettes. After all, we are running around in a foreign country, and there will always be times when we need social skills."

"Great, Teacher Zhan, I learned it again!"

"Haha, not only do I not smoke, I also don't drink, but I'm going to make an exception today. Let's go, I'm really happy today, let's go get two glasses?"

"Okay, Teacher Zhan!"

Zhan Jun and his assistant packed up their things and left the studio, chatting and laughing.

......................................

Somewhere in Wilmslow, Cheshire, England.

Alex Ferguson, sitting in front of the TV, had a complicated expression.

Seeing his arch-rival Wenger angrily returning to the player tunnel, how could he suppress his teasing mood.

But seeing the scene of Su Fei and his teammates celebrating wildly on the court, the temperament of a superstar emanating from him...

Ferguson couldn't laugh at all.

Damn it.

Such a 17-year-old super genius who could change the game on his own should have become a player of the great Red Devils

But now.

He is a member of the Blue Moon Army, the arch-rival in the same city.

Since the decline of Manchester City in the 1990s, Ferguson no longer regards Manchester City as an opponent worthy of attention.

And the annual derby in the same city has long become a one-sided oppressive show of Manchester United.

Ferguson has no time to care whether Su Fei's joining will shake Manchester United's absolute dominance in the city of Manchester.

He is immersed in deep regret.

Obviously, if he had just taken action, he could have easily gotten Su Fei.

That damn injury, no, it should be said that damn wrong injury report.

"Alas."

That's it.

Ferguson sighed deeply, and the talented players he had missed since he took over as coach emerged in his mind.

Alan Shearer, Paul Gascoigne, Gabriel Batistuta... Even the Brazilian genius with the title of "alien", the team missed him when he was still in Eindhoven, and finally let Barcelona get there first.

Now the name of Su Fei has to be added to this list.

................................

Manchester City Macho Bar.

The diehard fans were caught in a crazy celebration, they shouted, sang, and hugged each other.

"Fuck Arsenal! Fuck Wenger! Fuck Wright!"

"Let those little devils at Arsenal cry!"

"Ahhh! We won, we won!!"

The boss Billy moved boxes of ale from the warehouse behind the bar, and in the blink of an eye, they were all taken away by fans.

"Old Tom, congratulations on finally winning a bet and winning a week's worth of beer!"

"Fuck the bet, Billy! We won, Manchester City won, those bets are fucking unimportant, winning is the most important thing!"

Old Tom didn't know how many cups he had drunk.

"I have a hunch, really, Billy, my hunch is very strong, this season we will step on Manchester United, Chelsea, Arsenal's Premier League champions!"

"Uh...you're drunk, Old Tom."

"Believe me, Billy, I will, this feeling is too fucking strong!”

Even though the boss Billy is also a Manchester City fan, he was still shocked by Old Tom’s big talk.

Manchester City won the Premier League?

No.

That is definitely a dream that Manchester City fans dare not hope for!

First of all, since the Premier League was renamed in 1992, Manchester City has never even come close to the Premier League championship.

Secondly, before the emergence of the Premier League, Manchester City only won the top season championship in England twice.

The most recent one was in the 1967-68 season.

This is nearly 40 years!

Many of today’s Manchester City fans were just children at that time, and they hadn’t even grown up yet. Life.

Billy fell into some kind of beautiful fantasy. If there is such a day this season, how happy will the fans of Manchester City in the east be...

.................................

Islington community in north London.

A ragged homeless old man, holding his pocket with his hand, walked into a jersey store tremblingly.

The owner of the jersey store raised his eyebrows slightly, but still greeted him with a smile. In England, it is normal for homeless people who are hungry to watch football.

"Sir, do you need anything here?"

"Well, do you have Manchester City's No. 9 jersey?"

"Manchester City? No. 9! No."

The boss looked unkind and snorted.

"I'm sorry, most of our jerseys here are Arsenal's, and there are also a small number of jerseys of other teams' stars. In short, I don't recommend you to buy Manchester City's jerseys now, especially No. 9."

"Maybe if you walk on the street wearing it now, you are likely to be attacked by some extreme people. ”

“Don’t you know that Arsenal just lost to Manchester City?”

The homeless old man showed a regretful expression, shook his head slightly and walked out of the jersey store, and couldn’t help saying when he left.

“Maybe you should buy some Manchester City No. 9 jerseys. I believe there will be fans of that kid in this community. And even if you don’t wear a certain team’s jersey, it’s normal to be harassed by those bastards in Islington to vent your anger, isn’t it?”

The jersey owner was speechless after being scolded by the homeless old man. The public security in the Islington community is really not good.

Those damn community police only serve the rich.

The homeless old man who came to an alley on the street couldn’t help but take out a stack of pounds in his pocket, and his mood became happy again.

“If it weren’t for that Manchester City No. 9, I wouldn’t have received such a huge sum of money.”

“This must be the guidance given to me by God.”

“Maybe I can consider going to Manchester City to take a look, and if there is a chance, go to watch Manchester City’s game live.”

............................