William Clark turned around and walked back. He glanced at the stands, at the “Meat Mountain” who was waving his arms and shouting loudly, then withdrew his gaze.

“Stop putting on airs! As long as you put my son Diego Rivera in, you’re guaranteed to win!” The fat man was still yelling.

William Clark walked back to the coach’s bench and then asked his colleague, who was also a youth team coach, Carlos Gonzalez, “Who’s that noisy duck?”

Gonzalez was stunned for a moment before realizing who William Clark was talking about, and then he laughed. Because William Clark’s description was indeed very apt.

After laughing, he said to William Clark, “Uh. That’s Miguel Hernandez. He’s a club director, a minor director, but still a director.” Gonzalez kindly reminded William Clark that even if the other party was just a minor director, he was not someone youth team coaches like them could afford to offend. In his view, someone like William Clark—gentle, always smiling, venturing alone in a foreign country with no background—shouldn’t provoke a club director, even if it’s just a minor one...

William Clark smiled, thanked Gonzalez for his kind reminder, and then asked, “So, the ‘arrogant, nose-in-the-air Diego Rivera’ who just joined our team yesterday is his son?”

Gonzalez couldn’t help but laugh again. What was up with today—William Clark had become witty, humorous, and sharp-tongued. His assessment and description of Diego Rivera were also spot on.

After laughing, he nodded. “Yes, that’s his son.”

William Clark grunted, “No wonder that kid thinks so highly of himself.” Then he added, “Tell him to warm up.”

Gonzalez didn’t ask further and turned to notify the substitute Diego Rivera to warm up.

Although this kid’s skills really weren’t much, and under normal circumstances, he would never have made it into Real Madrid’s youth academy, let alone the Junior B team. But he always thought of himself as a genius, and didn’t take the Junior B team seriously at all. On his first day, he said the Junior B team was just a stepping stone, and he’d soon move up to the Junior A team and keep climbing.

When he said this, it was as if he was just lowering himself to train with the Junior B team for a few days. That arrogant attitude annoyed many adults.

So, the coaches didn’t really like him, but in the current situation, was there any other choice? They could only send him on—after all, he had a father none of these ordinary coaches could afford to offend.

After giving these instructions, William Clark walked back to the sidelines to continue directing his match.

Earlier, his instructions had been interrupted by that fat duck, and he wasn’t sure if Victor Hugo had received them, so he needed to confirm.

But this time, he didn’t shout directly—he didn’t want the opponents to hear his plans. After all, youth team matches were very quiet, with the main sounds coming from the players themselves. So, if a coach shouted something from the sidelines, everyone could hear it. If some parents in the stands got too excited, their voices would quickly make them the center of attention—just like that fat duck.

Fortunately, to his satisfaction, after he decided to have Diego Rivera warm up, the duck behind him stopped shouting.

The world finally... quieted down.

Soon, there was a stoppage on the field. William Clark quickly called number 14, Victor Anderson, over to the sideline, gave him instructions face-to-face, and confirmed again: shoot from distance more often.

“You have the ability to shoot from distance, Victor Hugo, and you’ve got a powerful shot. Take more long shots!”

Victor Anderson was a bit conflicted. “But coach, isn’t Real Madrid’s football tradition supposed to be beautiful and stylish? If I shoot from distance too much, won’t it be too rough and direct...?”

William Clark scoffed at this. “Nonsense, Victor Hugo! Let me tell you what Real Madrid’s football tradition is. It’s not about being beautiful and stylish—it’s about winning! Real Madrid is the most successful team on this planet, right?”

When it came to this, Real Madrid’s young players were always the proudest. Victor Hugo straightened his back and lifted his head. “Right!”

“Then do you know why Real Madrid is the most successful?”

“Uh...” For a kid to even think that long shots are too rough and direct was already impressive. Asking him to understand this more complex question was a bit much.

William Clark said smugly, “That’s because Real Madrid has won the most championships—they are winners! That’s what makes Real Madrid the most successful team. So victory is Real Madrid’s tradition, not being beautiful or stylish!”

At this moment, the referee was getting a bit annoyed with William Clark for constantly pulling players aside to talk, and ran over to remind him that the match needed to continue.

William Clark was unfazed. He just waved his hand, signaling the referee to wait a moment, then gave Victor Hugo a firm pat. “So take more long shots—only victory can bring more glory to Real Madrid! Alright, go now, go...”

Seeing the referee about to lose his temper, he quickly pushed Victor Hugo back onto the field.

※※※