Most of the capable players in the team had already left, and those who remained were all on edge, unsure if they would be the next to be sold off. Those with ability were busy looking for new clubs for themselves, their minds completely off the matches. The results of such a team were easy to imagine. In the first half of the 02–03 season, Forest ranked mid-table, and for a team with a glorious tradition and who had been playing in the Premier League just a few years ago, such results could not satisfy the fans.

Finally, on the third day after Christmas, under immense pressure, Paul Hart proactively submitted his resignation to Chairman Nigel Doherty. The two talked for a long time, and the chairman agreed to Hart's request to resign. As compensation for his voluntary resignation, Hart recommended Tony Dunn to take over as the first team head coach, becoming his successor.

Doherty was no stranger to Tony, and had a good impression of him. After all, he had worked at the club for seven years, diligently and conscientiously. His coaching achievements with the youth team in the past two years were also obvious to all. So, on December 29, 2002, Forest officially announced that their youth team head coach Tony Dunn would become the interim head coach of the first team until the end of the season.

The media and fans paid close attention to Tony's first match in charge of the first team, but unexpectedly, Dunn made a huge blunder on the sidelines, and the 0:3 scoreline became ammunition for others to attack him.

※※※

“…Tony, losing isn’t a big deal, every coach loses sometimes.” The conversation turned to the match that ended yesterday, and Burns offered comfort. “You’ve always done well with the youth team, you’ve already proven your ability to others.”

Dunn also thought of the scene that happened on the sidelines yesterday, as well as the people he met at this bar in the evening. He was mocked on TV, and even outside of TV he was still being laughed at. The root cause wasn’t that he was injured and forced off by his own player, but because he lost the match. As long as you lose, you’ll be scolded, ridiculed, and looked down upon. All other trivial mistakes would be magnified, magnified, and magnified again because of the defeat.

“Kenny, I know you’re right… but I just… hate losing so much!” Dunn downed his drink in one gulp, then slammed the glass heavily back onto the table. He looked drunk already.

Burns didn’t pour Dunn another drink: “I hate losing too, no footballer likes to lose. But some things you have to go through. The first team and the youth team are very different. I think even if you achieve nothing this season, no one will blame you. I know you weren’t prepared, and we still have next season…”

He was interrupted by the sound of the door; the bar’s front door was pushed open and a few heads poked in.

“Hey, Kenny! Isn’t your bar open yet?”

Burns finally glanced at his watch: “Oh, damn, it’s already eleven forty. I need to get to work.”

“Come in, guys!” He waved to the people at the door, then turned to switch on the lights.

The door swung open, and seven or eight people came in together. The previously cold and dim bar instantly became lively, and the energy of the people seemed to brighten the room. They chatted about all sorts of topics as they headed to the bar for drinks.

At this moment, Dunn, curled up in a corner of the bar, was finally noticed. Someone quickly recognized him. “Yo yo! Look who it is! Uncle Tony Dunn, who got knocked over by his own player on the pitch yesterday! Yo yo! Now he’s slumped in Forest Bar, dead drunk! Yo yo! Is this the secret to Forest’s next FA Cup win?!” A young guy gestured wildly, his movements and tone like he was rapping. His antics amused those around him.

Dunn heard the commotion behind him. He slowly turned around, squinting at the guy. He had no impression of this young man, but from his words, he must have been there last night.

“You little brat who hasn’t even grown all your hair yet…” Dunn struggled to stand up. Although his real age was only twenty-six, this body was thirty-four, so he could take advantage of the situation without guilt.

Seeing Dunn trying to get up, looking unfriendly, the people who had been laughing immediately became wary. Yesterday, they had seen how quickly Dunn knocked down the tall Michael. Michael, bloodied, went home and got scolded by his wife, and now didn’t even dare come to the bar, having to stay home to appease her. Only the young guy who hadn’t witnessed Dunn’s prowess didn’t care. He struck a boxer’s pose, bouncing around, shouting, “Come on, baby! Don’t think I’m afraid of you!”

With a “thud!”, it wasn’t someone’s nose getting hit, but the heavy beer mug slamming onto the table.

“Whose Irish stout is this?” Burns put his face between the two and asked.

The young man immediately withdrew his fists and went to get his drink: “Uh, mine…”

Burns waved the mug in front of him: “Don’t cause trouble in my place.” At these words, everyone quieted down.

Dunn didn’t like this group at all. Seeing them fill the bar, he felt it was time for him to leave.