Tang Long sat in the corner of the locker room and heard every word Guarin said.
He glanced at Berni beside him.
Berni frowned and made a bitter face at Tang Long.
"Is Guarin trying to get himself killed? He's really asking for it..."
The other teammates stayed silent.
No one was going to speak up for Guarin now.
They were professional players.
Inter Milan's players knew that all too well.
Even Tang Long knew.
Guarin had committed a cardinal sin!
He'd taken the tactical instructions Mazzarri had given him and used them to protest against the current manager, Mancini!
He was really asking for it!
A cardinal sin in the workplace!
So what if Mazzarri had trusted Guarin completely?
He was gone!
Mancini was in charge of Inter Milan now, not Mazzarri!
In theory, all Inter Milan players had played for major clubs.
Before coming to Inter Milan, they'd also spent time at various clubs. They were all seasoned professionals.
They should have known such a basic rule of the workplace.
When Benitez first arrived at Inter Milan in 2010, he'd ordered club staff to take down Mourinho's portrait from the stadium tunnel.
So what if the Portuguese manager had been a legendary coach for Inter Milan?
Inter Milan was under my command now!
Mancini gave Guarin a sinister smile.
"Well, Guarin, looks like you're very fond of Mazzarri!
I know Mazzarri well. We've known each other for over a decade. He's taken the severance pay Inter Milan gave him and gone off to his hometown in the countryside of southern Italy to grow grapes. Want me to call him and ask him to take you along?"
Only then did Guarin realize what he'd done. He sprang to his feet and waved his hands, trying to explain. "No, Coach, that's not what I meant. I was trying to say, uh..."
Mancini wasn't going to listen to any explanation from Guarin now.
He shoved Guarin aside and turned to the rest of the players in the locker room.
A new manager had to make his mark.
And to establish his authority, the first fire—
would be aimed at Mazzarri's right-hand man, Guarin!
"Lads, I need to make some changes for the second half. We have no choice but to push forward. I want three points from this match, and nothing else."
Mancini's gaze swept across the room before settling on Tang Long in the corner.
"You, the Asian kid with black hair. Stand up!"
When Mancini pointed at him, Tang Long's heart leaped. He hurried to his feet.
"From the youth team? Can you understand Italian?"
Mancini asked him in English.
Tang Long nodded, then answered haltingly in his unpolished Italian:
"I understand. My English is okay, but my Italian is not so good."
Mancini nodded without expression.
"Second half, Guarin comes off. You're going on!"
The announcement sent a wave of commotion through the locker room!
Everyone stared at Tang Long in disbelief.
Was this for real?
The starting midfielder Guarin was coming off, and some unknown kid from the youth team was going on?
"Who's that guy? Do you know him?"
"No. Who knows?"
"Has he even played in a professional league? Even if Guarin's coming off, he shouldn't be putting that kid on..."
"Does he not want to win?"
"Wait, what? This is our home ground!"
Mancini ignored their quiet muttering. He couldn't be bothered to listen.
He simply turned a cold gaze on Guarin.
His intentions were crystal clear.
This was aimed at Guarin!
Guarin's face darkened.
It looked like rotten liver.
Mancini was very pleased with Guarin's reaction.
He waved his hand and headed straight out.
Before leaving, he made sure to declare:
"I don't care what honors you've won, what country you're from, or what kind of hero you are back home. I'm telling you this: if you openly defy my tactics, even a kid from the youth team can take your place!"
Berni saw Tang Long standing there, stunned.
He smacked Tang Long on the backside with a towel.
"Haha, what are you standing around for? Get moving, put your shin guards on, and get ready to go out there!"
Inter Milan's players walked down the tunnel with heavy hearts.
Tang Long, on the other hand, was bursting with excitement!
He really hadn't seen this coming!
His Serie A debut was starting just like that?
Unexpected?
Surprising?
He fussed over his shin guards, tugged at his shorts, and kept himself busy.
Jonathan, the Brazilian wing-back, passed Tang Long, glanced at him, then complained in a low voice to Campagnaro beside him:
"We're at home, losing 1–0, and he puts on a youth player who's never played professionally? What, has Mancini given up? Are we even trying to play this match? How are we supposed to explain this to over fifty thousand fans?"
Campagnaro sighed. "The nail that sticks out gets hammered down. Guarin's the idiot who had to open his mouth. Now look where that's got him!"
"Look at how haltingly he speaks Italian. I don't even know how I'm supposed to communicate with him on the pitch. I can't speak English."
The forward Palacio approached Tang Long, looking worried.
"Hey, if we want to win this half, we'll need to move around more. I need you to run diagonally off me often, draw the defenders away, and give me space. Got it?"
Palacio was Argentine, and his Italian was colored by a strong rural Argentine accent. Tang Long only understood bits and pieces.
Palacio repeated himself in Spanish.
Tang Long was even more baffled!
"Forget it. I'll manage on my own. What a headache!"
Palacio pursed his lips, waved a hand, and walked away.
Inter Milan captain Ranocchia noticed Tang Long's predicament.
At 1.95 meters, he was a head taller than Tang Long, who stood 1.82 meters.
The 26-year-old center-back put an arm around Tang Long's shoulders like an older brother.
"You're Tang, right? Don't be nervous. Just play the way you did with the youth team and keep moving. You're young, so you need to help the older guys on the team by covering more ground!
"And before you get the ball, think about your next move. This is Serie A. The pace is very fast!
"Once you have the ball, try to get it to Kovacic. With Guarin off, he's the one organizing our midfield.
"If the opponents press you hard, clear the ball decisively. Better to clear it than to give it away. Understand?"
Ranocchia tapped the badge on Tang Long's chest with his fist.
"When you put on this shirt, you're fighting for Inter Milan's honor and for the sixty thousand fans in the stands. Good luck, kid!"
Ranocchia gave Tang Long a thumbs-up.
The instant Tang Long stepped onto the pitch at Stadio Giuseppe Meazza, a rush of warmth surged from his heart!
Tang Long clenched his fists!
His childhood idol, Ronaldo, had once raced across this century-old stadium in the same blue-and-black striped shirt.
And now—
I've made it too!
Inter Milan.
Stadio Giuseppe Meazza.
I'm here!
(Ronaldo, Tang Long's idol)
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