Are you willing to give up playing football or not? This is a multiple-choice question: option A is to give up, option B is not to give up.

Whether to play football or not, that's another multiple-choice question. Option A is to play, option B is not to play.

Whether to go to that so-called new Wimbledon trial, yet another multiple-choice question. Option A is to go, option B is not to go.

Three multiple-choice questions lay before Brian Carter, and the dice in his mind kept spinning and tumbling.

Brian Carter remembered that he was actually very good at answering multiple-choice questions...

Thinking of this, Brian Carter took a coin out of his pants pocket and showed it to Emily Clark.

Emily Clark didn't know what he was up to—just a very ordinary one-pound coin.

"The Queen's side means I go to the trial," Brian Carter flipped the coin and said, "the side with words means I don't go." In his heart, there were a few more things he didn't say: the Queen's side means I'm not willing to give up, the side with words means I am willing; the Queen's side means I want to play football, the side with words means I don't want to.

After saying this, he tossed the coin high into the air.

Both of their heads lifted with the motion, eyes following the coin as it spun in the air.

"Clink"—the coin fell to the ground. Emily Clark bent down, then cried out in delight, "Queen!"

Brian Carter didn't look surprised. He bent down to pick up the coin. "Best of five."

Hearing this, Emily Clark glared at Brian Carter in dissatisfaction, her lips pouting. Why was this Chinese boy trying to cheat?

Seeing her angry expression, Brian Carter actually found it very cute, and suddenly wanted to tease her on purpose: "You should be grateful I'm not using the snooker finals rules."

Snooker finals usually have many frames—best of nineteen, best of seventeen, even best of thirty-five.

As he spoke, he tossed the coin in his hand again, and Emily Clark, forgetting her anger, squatted down to check as soon as the coin landed.

"Queen!" she cried out in delight again.

She picked up the coin and stuffed it into Brian Carter's hand, shouting excitedly, "Third time! Third time!"

Best of five, and they've already won two rounds. Emily Clark thought the chances of winning were high. She suddenly became very interested in this game of chance.

Brian Carter tossed the coin for the third time. As expected, it was still the Queen's side up.

"Won!" Emily Clark jumped up in joy. But she wasn't satisfied yet—she wanted to see how many times out of five Brian Carter could get the Queen.

Fourth time.

"Still the Queen!!" Emily Clark's voice was trembling; she could hardly believe it.

Fifth time.

This time, Emily Clark didn't call out, but picked up the coin and flipped it to the other side. She suspected both sides of the coin were the Queen...

After examining it, Emily Clark said very seriously to Brian Carter, "Looks like the Queen really wants you to join our team. It's the Queen's will."

Brian Carter laughed. The Queen's will? He knew best in his heart—this was just a multiple-choice question: heads or tails, go or not go, willing or not willing. And he was best at answering multiple-choice questions; most of the time, he could toss the right answer... In other words, it wasn't the coin deciding whether he would go, but he himself deciding which side would face up. If he said words meant go and the Queen meant not go, then the next five tosses would all be words. The answer was already there; there was no need to toss any coin.

"You win, I'll go," he said to the happy Emily Clark.

Chapter 7: Our Own Team (Part 1)

"In Wimbledon, Pete Winkelman is an unpopular figure."

Emily Clark pointed to a photo in the newspaper and said to Brian Carter, who was sitting beside her. Even though Brian Carter already knew this, she still had to repeat it.

The man in the photo had messy, light brown long hair, a pale face, his mouth slightly open, upper lip jutting out, corners of his mouth drooping, revealing buck teeth. No matter how you looked at it, his mouth seemed about to say "grass"...

"He was the one who masterminded moving the Wimbledon club to Milton Keynes."

The news of Wimbledon's move made it into The Times. For English football, this was an unprecedented event, so even a serious newspaper like The Times paid attention to it.

"We won't go to watch that team's matches anymore," Emily Clark shook her head. She turned to look at Brian Carter, "And we won't buy any more merchandise or jerseys from that rich man's team. Maybe you think we're being extreme?"

Brian Carter shook his head. "No, I completely understand, and I support you."

He thought again of the now-defunct "Sichuan Quanxing."

If the roots of Chinese football clubs were like those of English clubs, planted in the community instead of in some impulsive company's hands, would our football be a little better today?