My light shines on Arsenal

Chapter 44
Am I a good coach?
When Chen Yao opened his eyes, this was the first sentence that remained in his mind.

The alarm clock lay quietly on the floor. It seemed to have been placed peacefully on the bedside table last night.

Looking at its landing point, Chen Yao seemed to see a parabola in the air.

Someone applied an angry force to it, and it flew away.

Chen Yao sat up from the bed in a daze, probably guessing that it was getting late.

But it doesn't matter.Wenger gave the team a day off.

Didn't sleep very well last night.

In fact, he doesn't sleep well after every game day.

Perhaps it is because the brain is too excited, or it may be that it is difficult to relax immediately after being highly stressed.

In his dream, he dreamed of some fragments, vivid, yet distorted and distant.

"Do you think your life is exciting and meaningful?"

"What kind of question are you asking... I'm just living my life. My ideals have long been buried in the summer."

"Really? I don't see a reason."

"Dude, do you want to see my bills? Do you want to see how I work so hard every fucking month to make money? Do you think I want to get up before dawn and drive my car? You don't think I want to give my boss a Fist and chase my fucking ideals? But I can't, this is life, it's not sweet, it's bitter, but I have to live."

"If you were given a chance to make your wish come true, what would you wish for?"

"Wish? Are you drunk, man? But... I want to do what I like to do... a football coach?"

"Hopefully my blessing will help you become a good coach. Everyone deserves a chance to live a life they love."

"You're an interesting person. You ran away from a mental hospital? Why don't you give me another chance? How can I become a good coach just by looking like this?"

"It's not consolation, and I'm not mentally ill. But I want you to ask yourself, when you get this opportunity, will you cherish the hard-won life? Will you be a good coach?"

"It's funny, dude, guess what my favorite team is? Come, have a drink."

"No, thank you. I've done what I should do. I hope you don't let me down, or your own life."

He opened his eyes suddenly.

Bedroom ceiling.curtain.wall.desk.Quilt.

Real and tactile.

What are those things?Is it a dream?Whose memory is it?
my own?But I can't remember anything like this...

Damn, it seems like I can't remember a lot of things.

I have a terrible headache.

What question did he ask me?

Am I a good coach?
Chen Yao turned on his phone, turned off airplane mode, and a stream of notifications popped up.

The most conspicuous thing is the sports news he subscribes to, and the headline is exactly:

[Klopp: 'He is a good coach']

Yes, yes, he remembered.

Klopp praised him yesterday as he led his side to a win over Dortmund.

He is very excited.He considers himself a good coach.

But after a night passed, he only felt empty, like a sage's time.

"Hungry." Chen Yao said to himself, "Hungry for victory."

Yes, the hunger for victory must be like this.

He was no longer in a daze, stood up and opened the curtains. It was gray outside the window. This was London.

"It's better to go have a drink..."

Dragging his sore body and massaging his dizzy head, Chen Yao took the key and staggered out of the apartment.

……

When Chen Yao opened the door of the White Horse Bar, he saw a deserted lobby.

This time on the day after every game day is the busiest time for the White Horse Bar.

The female bartender leaned on the bar charmingly, and a numb voice came over: "Mr. Coach, what kind of wine do you want?"

"Don't make trouble, let's have a beer." Chen Yao replied angrily.

"Hmph, boring." The female bartender rolled her eyes and twisted her waist to pour the beer.

Chen Yao looked around. The last time he looked around like this, he met his "Young Guards", and several little guys sneaked out to drink.

Ok?
He saw a familiar figure sitting in the corner, staring blankly out of the window.

……

Meng Qinghe is in a bad mood today.

To be precise, I have been in a bad mood recently.

When she was clapping tables with her colleagues at the headquarters building in London, she couldn't help but want to escape from that place.

Meng Qinghe didn't know why he studied and worked so diligently and took every step in a down-to-earth manner, but he still didn't receive goodwill.

When the arrogant middle-aged white woman directed the harshest words at her head, her well-dressed boss just tried to persuade her with a few words, then turned around seriously and told herself:

"Mariana, this is all your fault. How can you handle the relationship with colleagues like this? Go back and reflect on it."

Meng Qinghe saw the indifference in his boss's eyes, and also saw the pride hidden under the angry appearance of the white female colleague.

Oh my gosh, but I did almost all the work on this project myself.

How many overtime nights did she work?How many times have you taken a taxi back to your apartment in the early hours of the morning and fallen asleep in the car exhausted?How many times have you endured the glares from customers and had to carefully communicate with them with a smile?
It's all about yourself.

But when she asked colleagues to help her share some tasks, only to find that things were screwed up, there were not many people on her side.

Meng Qinghe still remembered the education she received when she was a child. She reflected on herself three times a day and reflected on what she had done wrong, but she found no problem.

So why do they treat themselves like this?Is it because I have offended them somewhere, or is it because... of my skin color?

Meng Qinghe roughly knew what the answer was. She was tired of the unreasonable pride hidden under the fake equality and respect of these people.

Depressedly, Meng Qinghe picked up the wine glass in front of him, then clinked a glass with someone with a "jingle".

"I guess you want to toast to me, uh... don't you?"

Chen Yao sat down in front of Meng Qinghe, holding a full wine glass. The beer foam was fluttering, and the golden wine was rippling in the glass.

Meng Qinghe was stunned, she didn't notice when the young man in front of her came over.

She didn't even know why she came here to drink, but when she felt uncomfortable, she immediately remembered the place Donna brought her here.

"By the way." Chen Yao said to Meng Qinghe solemnly, "You didn't reply to the message I sent you last time."

Meng Qinghe stared blankly at him, chuckled, gulped down the beer, licked the water stains at the corner of his mouth, and said with a smile, "Then I'll take it as an apology for you, Mr. Coach."

　I feel now that it is not easy to write a work that can be read.

　　After writing [-] words, I have begun to feel problems in many aspects.

　　Moreover, the coach's perspective (impulsive when opening the book) is much more difficult to write than the player's perspective.

　　My spare time every day now is just writing, thinking, practicing and learning...

　　I feel like I am really inexperienced and immature.

　　I originally wanted to contribute a wonderful work (I was careless), but now it seems that it will be a work that continues to grow through trial and error...

　　So I want to express my gratitude to my readers every day, thank you all for supporting me and watching me grow as I write. . .

　　
　
(End of this chapter)