After the interview, Zhang Kuang walked into the locker room.
Before the door opened, he heard the noise inside - the popping of champagne corks, the shouts of the players, and the clanking of some kind of metal object rolling on the ground.
He opened the door.
"Bang!"
A bottle of champagne was sprayed directly in his face.
Grichting was standing in the middle of the locker room, with a bottle of champagne in his left hand and a bottle of champagne in his right hand, spraying everywhere like a madman. Mignot was squatting in the corner, recording a video with a DV, and the camera was swinging around and scanning everyone in the locker room.
Oliech stood shirtless on the bench and danced. Jelen sat on the bench and wiped his face with a towel, with an expression on his face as if he had just cried. Pedretti sat in the corner with a bottle of beer in his hand and a smile on his lips.
"Zhang is here!" Grichting shouted, and everyone aimed their champagne at him at the same time.
Zhang Kuang was sprayed all over and escaped with a smile, but the locker room was so big that he had nowhere to escape.
"You bastards-" He choked on the champagne and coughed, but he couldn't hold back the smile on his face.
Grichting rushed over and hugged him. The two people were soaked and hugged each other like two drowned rats.
"Zhang, without you, we wouldn't be able to win this championship." Grichting's voice suddenly became serious, "Thank you."
Zhang Kuang patted his back. "Without you, I wouldn't be able to get it."
"Come on." Mignot poked his head out from the corner, "You have scored thirty-three goals by yourself, and our entire team combined is not as many as you. This championship belongs to you alone."
There was a chorus of agreement in the locker room.
"Yes! Zhang is the champion by himself!"
"Zhang is MVP! Season MVP!"
"Zhang is the king of Ligue 1!"
"..."
Zhang Kuang increases the volume. "Stop, stop, stop, if you say that again, I won't be happy. Winning the championship is a matter for the entire team. I did score a lot of goals, but if there is no team, no matter how many goals I score, it will be of no use?"
Don't put the credit for winning the championship on me alone. This is not an honor for me, but a burden. So, brothers, we can celebrate, but we can't continue to say that I won the championship alone for the team."
Zhang Kuang Although his name is very Zhang Kuang, he also behaves very Zhang Kuang in front of reporters and women.
But his Zhang Kuang is not stupid or brainless.
If Auxerre attributes his victory to himself alone, then he is stupid, brainless, and has no sense of teamwork or emotional intelligence.
"Okay, Zhang, you said it very well. You are a truly great player."
After the captain Benoît·Pedretti finished speaking, he hugged Zhang Kuang. The others were also impressed by Zhang Kuang's words. The biggest contributor did not take credit, but shared the credit among the team, which convinced them.
The dressing room door was pushed open.
Auxerre Chairman of the club Alain·Dujon came in.
The boss, who was privately called "Grandet" by the players, had a rare, heartfelt smile on his face at the moment. Behind him was the club's general manager and several staff members, each of whom held a stack of envelopes in their hands.
The locker room became quiet.
Dujon stood in the middle of the locker room, looking at his players.
"I'm not very good at talking." He started, his voice a little hoarse, "But I want to say - thank you. It has been fourteen years, Auxerre has waited for fourteen years, and finally won the Ligue 1 championship again."
He paused.
"I know I'm not a generous boss. I didn't give you the highest salary or the best conditions. But you also have to understand me. It's precisely because of my lack of generosity that Auxerre has been in business for so many years and can still maintain good operating conditions and results in the league.
Of course, I'm not here to promote my achievements. I'm here to tell you that today I want to make an exception and be generous. Come on, let's take a look at your championship bonus."
He nodded to the person behind him.
The staff began to distribute envelopes.
When each player got the envelope and opened it, the expressions on their faces changed - some widened their eyes, some opened their mouths, and some were stunned and speechless.
Zhang Kuang opens his own envelope.
Inside is a check.
Amount: 800,000 euros.
Winning bonus.
It's not a lot of bonus, not even as good as the winning bonuses of some teams like Chinese Super League and Saudi League.
But Zhang Kuang knows that for a small team like Auxerre, a single game bonus of 800,000 euros is already an astronomical figure.
Dujon walked up to Zhang Kuang and stretched out his hand.
"Zhang, thank you." The old chairman's voice was trembling, "You are the best signing in the history of Auxerre, bar none. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have won this championship."
Zhang Kuang held his hand.
"Thank you, Mr. Chairman, for your affirmation. Winning the championship is not due to me alone, but to the entire team and the coaching staff. After all, there are 11 people playing, and it also requires the coaching staff's scheduling."
Dujon patted him on the shoulder. "Haha, I appreciate your magnanimity. Be crazy when you should be crazy, and be humble when you should be humble."
I know you may be leaving in the summer, and I won't force you to stay. But I want to say - no matter where you go, Auxerre will always be your home. If you want to come back one day, we welcome you at any time."
Zhang Kuang: "Thank you, Mr. Chairman, and we will cooperate again if we have the opportunity."
While the two were chatting, Fernandez also came back from the press conference. He was very proud of himself, and then everyone celebrated for a while.
After the celebration, the players began to wash up and pack their things.
Zhang Kuang was sitting on the bench, slowly packing up. His mobile phone was in the cabinet, and it had been vibrating since the end of the game. He was too lazy to look at it.
Hengbart came over and lowered his voice. "Zhang, those young women asked me when you would be free. They said they could never forget you after the last time."
Zhang Kuang glanced at him. "Are you addicted to pimping? No, they won't treat me as a duck girl, right? Are you addicted to pimping?"
"What pimp? What kind of prostitute? What you said is too outrageous." Hengbart said with an innocent look on his face, "I'm just helping you connect people."
And they said they would introduce better ones to you next time. Paris The ladies from the literary and art circles are more interesting than the last few."
Zhang Kuang shook his head. "You have to pay more."
"..." Hengbart was speechless. "You are cruel!"
--
Zhang Kuang When he walked out of the locker room, it was already eleven o'clock in the evening.
In the parking lot, a black Mercedes-Benz parked in front of him. The car window rolled down, and Jonathan·Le Brown's face appeared in the window.
"Get in the car." The agent's expression was serious, "Someone is waiting for you."
Zhang Kuang opened the car door and sat in.
"Who?"
"Ferguson."
Zhang Kuang was stunned for a moment.
"Ferguson? Ferguson of Manchester United?"
"Otherwise, who do you think I am talking about? I called you and sent you text messages but you didn't reply." Jonathan started the car, "He is waiting for you at a hotel in Lyon. He will fly back to Manchester early tomorrow morning."
"Sorry, everyone was celebrating, so I didn't look at my phone. Okay, since he wants to meet, let's meet him."
Zhang Kuang leaned on the seat and looked at the night scene outside the window.
Lyon The night quickly receded outside the car window, and the city lights flickered on and off on his face.