[football] this god

"Portugal was crowned the king of Europe tonight, and her favorite little prince, Cristiano Ronaldo, sealed the victory and gave her the golden crown with a header in the same posture as Angel Ascension."

"There are now tens of thousands of Portuguese on the streets of Lisbon, waiting for the bus parade tonight, while our little prince and his teammates are still celebrating in the dressing room - they are expected to leave the stadium in half an hour. Let's start tonight's celebration."

"I'm going to change the Ronaldo jersey and then guys I'll see you in the street - please don't touch my Ronaldo jersey thank you, that's what I just took off of him - you will affect it That unique smell that belongs to the champion and the golden boy of Europe."

The commentator grandiosely showed off in the live broadcast how he used the public to seek personal gain and take advantage of others.

If it weren't for the fact that there were too many UEFA acquaintances along the way, the Jazz would have been flying by now.

His good boy, his Cristiano, scored twice for Portugal in the European Cup final.The point is that he still has only .Jazz couldn't help laughing when he thought of these key words.

But he couldn't, because he was the steady, well-informed Sir Alex Ferguson.

Cristiano doesn't have so many worries.

That's great, when you smirk, others will only think you are cute.

——Cristiano now has this kind of mentality, holding the trophy and smiling and being kissed by the whole Portuguese locker room, just like a plush toy whose facial expression has been made grinning.

Then, just as the locker room was about to start the second round of plush toy passing, Jazz was politely brought in by the Portuguese staff, "Of course no problem, Sir, I think Cristiano will be very happy too Seeing you, so, please... oh, you're welcome, please."

As soon as the plush toy Ronaldo saw Jazz, he immediately swished the trophy—yes, even at this time he refused to hand the trophy to Figo or someone else to touch it—rushed to Jazz, and wiped his face. The saliva of the other people who arrived all rubbed on Jazz's suit, ""The god of war perches on top of my head, and the goddess of victory kisses the instep of my feet." "

—Stuffed toy, oh no, Cristiano smugly shook his curly hair and repeated what he said before the Jazz game.

Sir stroked his fur and nodded with a smile.

The others pinched their noses tightly because of the sour smell emanating from these words.

"You are great, Cristiano." The Jazz seemed to have no other better compliments, he just smiled and stroked the side of Cristiano's neck—maybe he may have better compliments, but he is not Cristiano, He is the Sir Alex Ferguson of Manchester United and England, and his status demands restraint.So he can only smile and look at his good boy, saying you are great again and again.

Cristiano was about to fly with increasing ecstasy.

——"I think you are great too, Cristiano, but can you give me the trophy, I just want to take a photo and not steal it." Maybe it was Carvalho or someone else, so heartbroken loudly He put forward his own appeal, hoping that Jazz can uphold justice here.

They are wrong, the Jazz will not ask for "fairness" from Cristiano for others in the Manchester United dressing room-his Cristiano is "fairness", thank you.

So Jazz pretended not to hear other people's complaints about Cristiano's evil deeds, and Cristiano proudly shook his invisible tail, feeling even more confident.

And Figo even sided with Cristiano.

——"Can't you be humble to Cristiano? He is, what's wrong with hugging the trophy?"

It is the uncle who scored the goal, and the ancestor who scored twice.

The rest of the locker room dared not speak out against this overlord clause.

Cristiano leaned into Jazz's arms - still holding the trophy - and whispered: "That feeling is so good, thank you Sir, thank you for coming."

Jazz held Cristiano in his arms and stroked his hair with a smile, "How good is that feeling?"

Cristiano couldn't explain it clearly, and he couldn't say it, that feeling was like some kind of divine presence, and anyone who was there would lose their language because of being shocked - sacred, so that any language is profane to it .

Cristiano stood in the center of the field, surrounded by tens of thousands of Portuguese singing his name with tears of ecstasy - a scene he had experienced hundreds of times, but none more so than this one. Extricate yourself.

He opened his arms and closed his eyes, and the singing of tens of thousands of people became the chants of the choir in the holy church. He felt the smoke that was lit by the church for the sacrament lingering around him, and the smoke gradually climbed around him and gradually enveloped him. The whole body, as if to take him to the happiest place in the universe.

It was as if the saint appeared on the balcony of the Vatican, but just after he appeared, the cloudy sky was filled with bright sunshine in an instant, and tens of thousands of believers had already begun to cry bitterly for the saint in their lifetime.

He tried to record all his feelings and everything around him, but in the end he couldn't remember anything, he only remembered that he was happy.

"How happy?" he remembered little Chris asking him once, when he was a little older.

"I don't know, but I think that's the greatest happiness in life." ——He answered Little Chris in this way "at the beginning", and now he answers Sir in this way.

Jazz said, "It's good that you feel happy."

"I have a question." Deco leaned closer to Figo and whispered, "What kind of glaucoma does it take to make the Jazz think that Cristiano is a baby who needs to be hugged instead of a young man who is arrogant because of his young age?" Blessed bully?"

Figo smiled and glanced at Deco, "Isn't he a good baby?"

Deco: ... Is it okay if I didn't say it?

"Is it going to be celebrated in Lisbon in the next few days? What's next? What are your plans?" Jazz asked Cristiano in a low voice.

Cristiano's hand holding the trophy may finally be a little sore. He looked left and right, and finally reluctantly entrusted the trophy to Figo for the time being - and then Figo was overwhelmed by the crowd eager to grab the trophy and take pictures.

"The little dragon Ronaldo finally let go of his gold nugget, Luis, I ask to be the first in line for a photo!"

—More than one person uttered such sarcasm against Cristiano aloud.

Cristiano looked at them as if they had never seen a champion in eight lifetimes, and wrinkled his nose in disdain—at this moment, he probably didn't remember who was holding the trophy just now and never let go.

"I don't know, maybe back to Madeira? It hasn't been decided yet..." Cristiano happily pulled Jazz to find a place where there were no piles of dirty clothes and smelly socks, "but I guess my parents are probably anxious Take me back to Madeira to show off - understandably, and generally I'm willing to go along with it."

Rich and noble do not return home, such as brocade clothing at night.

Although Jazz doesn't know this sentence, he understands the similar reasoning—not to mention that all parents in the world are the same, and his son became a national hero, which ended Portugal's history of no championship in international competitions for so many years. Travel around with the child and tell the village.

No one is exempt from vulgarity.

——"This is our family Cristiano, alas, not very good. He played football because he didn't study well. He didn't have any grades, so he just played casually, scored a few goals randomly, and won a European Cup casually , and picked up the best player in the finals... Hey, it's all luck, not worth mentioning."

Imagine what it would be like.

But there is no way, as a child, you must do a little bit to let your parents brag as much as you want.

"It should be." Jazz said so, but looked a little regretful.

Today is a good day for Cristiano, and he can't see others being disappointed—especially Jazz, "Do you need me to do anything? Sir, I have nothing else to do anyway."

"This is not good." Jazz said politely.

"Please speak directly, it's okay." Cristiano widened his eyes, as if he was surprised by Jazz's reaction - you must know that Jazz has never been polite to him, because it is completely unnecessary.

Jazz hesitated for a moment, but looking at Cristiano's expectant eyes, he "had no choice but to make it difficult", "Actually, I want to say... Cristiano, would you like to go back to Scotland with me? I want to send You introduce me to old friends. I want them all to meet you. I've mentioned it to them many times, and they always think..."

I always think I'm bragging - Sir doesn't have the nerve to say that.

——Parents are all the same in the world. My son has become a national hero next door, ending the history of Portugal without a championship in many international competitions. Everyone will take their children around and tell the village.

No one is exempt from vulgarity.

Cristiano's mouth twitched.

He seemed to see himself like a caged elephant in the "grand occasion" of the exhibition tour in Scotland.

But looking at Jazz's expectant eyes, he still nodded "reluctantly".

#No, he didn’t feel very happy#

#No, he is definitely not triumphant#

#He was just a little proud for a while#

——After all, as a child, you have to do a little bit of your duty to let your parents brag.In fact, he's glad he fulfilled his obligation.