(The incident in the away locker room of Sunderland written next actually happened and was not made up by the author.)
At five o'clock in the afternoon the next day, the Manchester United team arrived at Stadium of Light.
This stadium is located south of the Sunderland city center and can accommodate 49,000 people.
Today is match day, and the outside of the stadium is full of home team fans wearing red and white striped shirts. Manchester United's bus drove in from the side door, and the fans booed, but the boos were not fierce, more like a routine - after all, the relationship between Sunderland and Manchester United is not bad, and Bruce is Manchester United's contribution.
The players filed out of the car and walked into the visiting team's locker room.
Zhang Kuang was the last one to enter.
The moment he opened the door, he smelled a faint... damp smell.
"What does it smell like?" He frowned.
Evra shrugged. "Old stadiums are like this. Back then Highbury the locker room smelled worse than this."
The locker room is not big, with twenty lockers arranged in two rows, with a narrow aisle in the middle. The floor is covered with gray non-slip mats, a tactical whiteboard is hung on the wall, and several boxes of drinking water are stacked in the corner.
Everything looks normal.
The players began to change equipment. Van der Sar was wrapping bandages on his hands, Ferdinand was applying massage cream to his legs, Berbatov took his sneakers out of the shoe bag, put them on the ground, looked at them for two seconds, then picked them up and wiped them.
"What are you looking at?" Zhang Kuang asked.
"Check it." Berbatov said expressionlessly, "These shoes were ordered just last month. They have been worn for six games and scored four goals. They are in perfect condition."
"... You even remember this?"
"Of course." Berbatov put the shoes back on the ground and arranged them neatly, "Sneakers have a soul."
Zhang Kuang was about to answer the call when suddenly there was a "tick" sound above his head.
A drop of water fell on the chair in front of him.
He looked up at the ceiling - there was water seeping out of a gap in the tiles, and the water droplets slowly gathered and then dripped down.
"It's leaking." Zhang Kuang shouted.
The staff member came over and took a look and said it was okay, it was an old problem, just put a bucket. He picked up a red plastic bucket from the corner and put it on the chair. Water dripped on the bottom of the bucket, making a "ding, ding, ding" sound.
"Okay." The staff member smiled, "It doesn't matter."
It really didn't matter. The players continued to change equipment, chat and joke.
Ferguson walked in and gave a pre-match speech, which was brief and powerful. "Sunderland is not in good condition recently, but don't underestimate it. Premier League has no weaklings.
I know you just came back from Spain the day before yesterday and you are all very tired. After this game, there are more than ten days of international matches in between. Those who don't have national team duties can take a good rest.
However, this game must be won, and Chelsea behind him is biting hard. Do you hear that?" Ferguson finally asked loudly.
"I heard that!"
"Okay, get ready."
After receiving the instruction, everyone began to work. Zhang Kuang lowered his head and glanced at his feet. The water in the leaking bucket was already half full.
"So fast?" He was stunned for a moment.
The staff member walked over and took a look, was stunned for a moment, and then ran out quickly. After a while, he brought back a bigger bucket - to be precise, it was a shining silver metal oil bucket, about half a person's height.
He put the oil drum on the chair, poured the original water into it, and then clapped his hands. "Okay, you can put as much as you want here."
Everyone didn't care and continued to prepare.
Zhang Kuang changed his jersey, put on his shin pads, stood up and moved his body. He glanced at the clock on the wall: 7:20 p. m., twenty-five minutes before the start of the game.
Just then, he heard a voice.
It's not the sound of dripping water.
It's "click".
It sounded like something breaking.
He looked up: the tile on the ceiling was cracked and the whole piece was about to fall.
"Quick, run out, the ceiling is about to collapse."
Zhang Kuang yelled and immediately ran out of the locker room. Before anyone else could react, they heard a "click", followed by a muffled "boom".
The tiles shattered and debris flew everywhere.
What followed was not water, not water, but a lump.
A brown, thick lump with a suffocating smell.
Falling from the sky.
Impartially, it hit the metal oil drum on the chair.
The oil drum fell over.
Brown liquid and brown solid mixed together and sputtered in all directions like a volcanic eruption.
Van der Sar reacted the fastest. He ducked sideways and pressed his whole body against the wall, like a frightened cat.
Ferdinand had the worst luck. He was standing next to an oil drum and half of his trouser legs were splashed.
Giggs had the best luck, sitting in the corner, farthest away, unscathed.
And Zhang Kuang had run out long ago. On the ceiling, a broken pipe was dripping brown liquid. There was a gap as big as a fist at the interface of the pipe, and... some indescribable solid residue hung on the edge of the gap.
The locker room fell into a deathly silence.
"Run quickly, what are you doing standing still?" Zhang Kuang shouted outside.
Then everyone rushed out, and two seconds later someone asked, "What is that?!"
"Is that shit? Is that shit?!"
"My sneakers!!! I just ordered them from Italy!!!"
"Ugh..."
Berbatov's voice was particularly clear in this chaos, with a feeling of being on the verge of collapse. "My shoes."
Everyone looked at him.
He looked at his beloved, custom-made sneakers, which had been worn for six games and scored four goals, and had souls. They were Jingjing lying peacefully in a puddle of brown liquid.
Soak.
Soak thoroughly.
Berbatov's face changed from red to white, from white to blue, and from blue to purple. His lips were trembling, his fingers were trembling, and his entire soul seemed to have left his body at this moment.
"My... shoes..."
This scream was extremely sad, as if a relative had died.
Zhang Kuang took two steps back silently outside the door. He suddenly felt his stomach churning. If he hadn't been a cultivator, he would have really vomited in front of everyone.
But he can only take two steps back and cannot take any more steps back, not because he is afraid, but because he feels that if he doesn't take a step back, otherwise everyone will think that he is not united enough when the team faces difficulties.
At this time, Ferguson also realized that he was pulled out by Zhang Kuang immediately.
"Call Bruce over here." Ferguson's voice was as cold as the wind in the twelfth lunar month, "Now, immediately, immediately."
Steve Bruce almost ran over.
The moment he opened the door, the expression on his face was wonderful: first disbelief, then horror, then shame, and finally the despair of "I'm done".
"Sir, I... I didn't know it would be like this..."
"I don't know, it's the first time I've met." Ferguson pointed to the pile of things on the ground, "I never thought that I would encounter such a thing in the away locker room."
Bruce's face turned red.
He turned back and shouted at his men, "Get someone! Clean up immediately! Call the maintenance man! Call everyone who can be called!"
Staff rushed in, carrying mops, buckets, towels, and disinfectant. But these tools seemed so powerless in the face of the "disaster" on the floor.
Bruce followed and cleaned up. Think about it, the coach of a team helps clean such disgusting things in the away locker room. There are very few coaches who can do this.
Zhang Kuang stood in the corner, watching this scene, not knowing what to say.
There was only one thought in his mind: If a reporter knew about this, he would laugh for ten years.
The game was scheduled to kick off at 7:45 p. m.
At 7:35, while the players from both sides were still waiting in the tunnel, the news had already spread. It was not sent by reporters, but by stadium staff. Someone took a photo and posted it on social media with the text "Manchester United There is a flood in the visiting team's locker room. No, it's a big poop."
The tweet was retweeted thirty thousand times in ten minutes.
At 7:40, the referee walked into the locker room to inspect the situation. He glanced at the pile of things on the ground that had not been completely cleaned up and frowned.
"Can we still compete?" he asked Ferguson.
"Yes." Ferguson said through gritted teeth, "But my players will not wear jerseys contaminated with feces."
The equipment manager of Manchester United, the gray-haired Old Albert, stood up at this time.
He pulled out a large suitcase from an inconspicuous corner and opened it. Twenty sets of brand new away jerseys were neatly stacked inside.
"Backup equipment," Old Albert said in a calm tone, as if he was saying that the weather is nice today, "I will bring it to every game."
Ferguson glanced at him, his eyes full of gratitude.
"Good job."
Old Albert nodded and said nothing. He has worked at Manchester United for thirty years and has experienced all the ups and downs of the Ferguson era, from Cantona kicking the fans to Keane being kicked out of the club, from winning the Champions League on a rainy night in Moscow to Cristiano Ronaldo's shocking transfer. He has seen too many small scenes like this.
The players began to change into spare jerseys. Nani was wearing them while muttering, "Have these clothes been washed?"
"If you don't want to wear it, you can go up naked." Ferdinand said.
Nani shut up.
At 7:55, the game finally started.
Ten minutes later than originally scheduled.
Stadium of Light didn't explain the reason for the delay on the big screen, but social media has already exploded.
"Have you heard? Manchester United shit fell out of the locker room!"
"It's not water, it's feces?! Are you serious?"
"Berbatov's sneakers are soaked in shit! Soaked! In! Shit! In!"
"If I were Berbatov, I would retire on the spot."
"Manchester United This is incredible luck."
"It's not luck, there's something wrong with Sunderland's locker room. Stadium of Light was built in 1987 and the pipes are aging."
"Anyway, I can laugh about this for a year."
After the game started, Zhang Kuang immediately felt a serious problem.
His physical condition was fine and his spirit was fine, but there was something wrong with his nose. The smell in the locker room was so strong that he still felt that the air he breathed had a vague... peculiar smell.
"Do you also feel that it still smells bad?" Anderson came over and asked, holding his nose.
"Stop talking." Zhang Kuang said with a deadpan expression, "The more I talk about it, the more it stinks."
With the referee's whistle, the game officially started, and the commentators started gossiping, mainly about two things.
Martin: "Okay, let's first talk about the first release of Manchester United: Van der Sar; Rafael, Ferdinand, Vidić, O'Shea; The midfield changes greatly, Scholes, Fletcher, Anderson; the frontcourt Nani, Zhang Kuang, Owen.
Did everyone think that Manchester United was rotated because UEFA Champions League participated in a group match three days ago? In fact, it's not the case. Didn't everyone notice that even in the rotation, there was still someone missing on the bench?"
Rob: "Oh, you said it was Rooney?"
Martin: "That's right, Rooney didn't come. As far as I know, he had a quarrel with the club over the contract extension, and was kicked off the game roster by Sir Ferguson."
Rob:"Ah? Is there still such a thing?"
Martin: "Have you noticed that the Manchester United team is in poor condition? Apart from the Rooney incident, another more interesting thing is that there was a leak in Sunderland's locker room before the start of the game, and the leak was not water, but disgusting stuff flowing out of the toilet. Who would be in the mood to play football if this happened?"
Rob: "I've heard about this. Logically speaking, Stadium of Light was built in 1987, so it won't age so quickly."
Martin: "The main thing is the lack of maintenance. If you don't maintain your pipes for five years, they can barely function. If you don't maintain them for ten years, try it. Stadium of Light hasn't had any major maintenance in 23 years. Think about what will happen."
Rob: "Sunderland should be rich. Why don't you maintain this stadium? Premier League gets a lot from just the broadcast fees every year. They don't have any big signings."
Martin:"This..."
Why are the commentators not talking about the game, but gossiping? Mainly because the live game is really ugly.
In the first ten minutes of the game, Manchester United's offense was soft, as if it was sleepwalking.
Once Nani took the ball on the right, shook it twice, and passed it directly to the bottom line like a cross or a shot.
Fletcher made a mistake in passing the ball in midfield and was counterattacked by Sunderland. Fortunately, Vidić made up for it in time.
Owen's running position is still there, but his speed can no longer keep up with his consciousness. He successfully countered offside twice, and was caught up by defenders both times.
Zhang Kuang doesn't get the ball on the left side often. Every time he gets the ball, two or three people surround him. Sunderland's defensive strategy is very clear: Don't care about others, watch Zhang Kuang to death first.
He Wei was also very worried in CCTV-5's live broadcast room.
"According to the information we learned, there was a pipe leak in Manchester United's visiting team's locker room before the game," He Wei said in a serious tone, but with a clear smile. "This incident had a big impact on the state of the Manchester United players. Especially Berbatov, whose sneakers are said to have been... well... seriously contaminated."
Xu Yang stood by and had a hard time holding back his laughter. "This is indeed a... relatively rare accident."
"In the history of football, leaks in the locker room are not uncommon, but leaks of... well... this level... are indeed rare." He Wei paused, "This also illustrates the charm of football matches. You never know where an accident will happen in the next second.
Often this kind of accident is also part of the player's morale. Once the player's morale is affected, the result of the game will change. We hope that Manchester United can withstand the pressure today, but we must know that they are not much ahead of Chelsea."
"Yes, this kind of accident is indeed too sudden, such as something falling from the ceiling."
"... Teacher Xu, please pay attention to the occasion."
In the 25th minute, Manchester United's first real chance appeared on the field.
Anderson stole the ball in the midfield and passed it straight to Zhang Kuang. After getting the ball, Zhang Kuang did not directly accelerate as usual, but first protected the ball and observed it.
Sunderland's defense line is very close to the center, mainly to guard against him, and there is a large open space on the right.
He saw that Owen was also running.
Zhang Kuang made an overhead pass. The ball passed over the head of Sunderland defender and landed accurately on Owen's running route.
Owen Stop the ball, adjust, and shoot!!
The goalkeeper jumped out.
"Owen's shot was saved! Five years ago, this ball would have definitely gone in." Rob Hawthorn said.
"Five years ago, he was Mr. Ballon d'Or." Martin·Tyler said, "Now it is very difficult for him to get out of this position."
Zhang Kuang gave a thumbs up to Owen. Owen smiled and shook his head, pointing to his legs, which meant "I'm old and slow."
In the 33rd minute, Sunderland counterattacked.
Malbranque made a pass from the right, Darren·Bent grabbed the point in the penalty area and headed the ball towards the goal, Van der Sar held it firmly.
The first half passed slowly in the tug-of-war between the two sides.
Manchester United had 57% ball possession, 5 shots, 2 shots on target, and 0 goals.
Sunderland had 43% ball possession, 3 shots, 1 shot on goal, and 0 goals.
Zhang Kuang only completed 2 shots in these 45 minutes, one was blocked and one missed.
He has a wide range of activities, dropping back from the frontcourt to midfield to take the ball more times than in any previous game. But I don't know why, he lacks that momentum in his body.
That "I'm going to tear you apart" momentum.
The drive of "I will pass anyone who dares to stop me".
"You're not in the right state." Fletcher said to him during halftime.
"I know." Zhang Kuang took a sip of water, "I just... can't get excited."
"Is it because of that... that smell? Or is the team's taxi spirit affecting you?"
"They are all there." Zhang Kuang frowned, "I always feel like something is wrong."
In the locker room, the smell has dissipated a lot, but the "psychological shadow" is still there.
Berbatov put on a spare pair of sneakers, but his expression remained as if he had lost his soul, standing in the corner without saying a word.
Ferguson walked in. He glanced at the players and didn't get angry.
He looked at the players and said word by word, "I don't care what you are thinking in your head, I don't care what your nose smells, I just want the result. If you didn't play well in the first half, I can improve it in the second half."
He walked up to Berbatov and patted him on the shoulder.
"Your shoes are gone, but your feet are still there. In the second half, when the opportunity is almost up, you go up and kick the ball into the opponent's goal."
Berbatov raised his head, there was a little light in his eyes, took a deep breath and nodded.
Ferguson walked up to Zhang Kuang again.
"You, wake up."
Zhang Kuang was stunned for a moment.
"Didn't you say that the only difference between you and the superstar is a championship?" Ferguson stared into his eyes, "A superstar will not be unable to play well just because of a few pieces of shit dropped in the locker room."
Zhang Kuang blinked and then smiled.
"Boss, your metaphor..."
"What a metaphor, I mean it literally." Ferguson turned around and walked out, leaving behind a sentence, "In the second half, I want to see the performance of a superstar Zhang Kuang, not a Zhang Kuang who is affected by smell and morale."
"Roger, BOSS!" Zhang Kuang nodded.
Then Ferguson talked about several players one by one, and Ferguson didn't say much about the rest. After all, this matter does affect people's mentality.