Chapter 3

A stroke of luck in misfortune.

Lin Sen quietly examined Aguero's leg; it was just a muscle strain, without any damage to the ligaments. However, it was almost a step away from a recurrence of the old injury. Lin Sen, having reached this conclusion, did not hesitate to start sprinkling salt on Aguero's wound.

"Does it hurt here?" Lin Sen pinched a certain part of Aguero's thigh with a serious look on his face, asking expressionlessly.

"It hurts!" Aguero broke out in a cold sweat.

"What about here?" Lin Sen changed the position, increasing the force.

"… It hurts…" This time, Aguero's voice changed.

"What about here?" Lin Sen changed the position again, twisting at a ninety-degree angle.

"… It hurts…" Now, Aguero opened his mouth wide, drawing in cold air.

...

"Very good, it's good that it hurts. From what I can see, it's just a muscle strain, there shouldn't be any major issues..." Just as Aguero felt his leg was about to no longer belong to him, Lin Sen stood up and said calmly.

"Are you sure it's nothing serious?" Before Lin Sen could finish, Aguero hurriedly interrupted, "But why do I feel my leg is a bit numb now?"

"That's a normal reaction." Lin Sen said nonchalantly, shaking his hand lightly. Of course! How could it not be numb? My hand is already numb from pinching.

"Thank you. I'm troubling you." Aguero quickly thanked him, and it was clear that his gratitude was sincere.

This was not just for this examination. In fact, if it weren't for Lin Sen's repeated instructions before the match not to force himself, that breakthrough might have continued. Fortunately, at the most critical moment, Lin Sen's instructions flashed in his mind, and he abandoned the breakthrough. Otherwise, Aguero couldn't even imagine what would have happened.

Lin Sen nodded, feeling a sense of satisfaction: This is the benefit of being a doctor. You can casually torture people to the point of near-death, and they still thank you, genuinely.

"Lin, this sprain shouldn't be related to my old injury, right?" Just as Lin Sen was about to leave, Aguero suddenly asked.

Aguero seemed to be asking casually, but Lin Sen's heart stirred: This is right. Given Aguero's previous relationship with Jose, how could he so easily treat this sprain as an accident? His guarantee to play was given by Jose, and he got injured right after getting on the field. No one would let it go so easily.

"I can't answer that for you." Lin Sen thought for a moment and finally gave a standard answer: "If you're not sure, I suggest you go to the hospital for a check-up."

He hated Jose, in every way. To Lin Sen, Jose was the kind of person who could never be a friend. However, he couldn't just ruin someone based on his dislike.

"It's fine. I was just asking. I trust you, Lin." Aguero paused, then smiled, "Do you think I can make it for the next match?"

"You can, but I don't recommend it." Lin Sen felt a bit helpless. Football players seemed to be a bunch of people who didn't care about their lives. Even machines need oil, but these people seemed unwilling to wait for even that.

"Maybe I should talk to Serez?" After leaving the examination room, Lin Sen thought.

It was impossible for Jose to overturn his previous report, especially since the examination results showed no direct link between Aguero's old injury and this sprain. Like a police investigation, once there are too many motives, it's as good as having no motive. As a football player, a sprain like Aguero's could certainly be one of the reasons, but the problem was that it was one of the reasons, not the only one.

So, it could only be Serez. If necessary, Lin Sen didn't mind leaving Atletico Madrid early. It wasn't that he particularly cared about Aguero's talent; in his memory, he left Atletico Madrid to start his own career at the end of this season.

---

Poor Atletico Madrid!

Without the support of "As" for Real Madrid, "Sporting" for Barcelona, or "Champion" for Deportivo, Atletico Madrid was like a stepchild in this circle. Sometimes they might get some pity, but they would never get true love.

"1-3, 0-2, 0-3, 0-1..."

In football, the enemy of your enemy is not always your friend. "Sporting," which always cheered for Barcelona, listed Atletico Madrid's scores from the last five matches and paired it with a picture of a sparsely filled stand, writing sarcastically, "When the fans, known as the most patient in all of Europe, give up on their team, you have to admit, football is that cruel."

"The team lost, and I am willing to take full responsibility. I have submitted my resignation to the board, and now I only hope the board will respect my decision." The report from "As" seemed quite "neutral." They didn't show much "emotion" about Atletico Madrid's current situation, quoting word for word from the press conference where Atletico Madrid's coach, Aguirre, announced his resignation. They then commented, "With only seven rounds left in the league, Aguirre's resignation, following his return from a long injury, became the last straw. Aguirre, who has been surrounded by rumors of dismissal since the new year, finally chose to resign. For Atletico Madrid, this is clearly irrelevant, as it has no impact on their season, with or without a coach..." They seemed to have forgotten that in their city, Madrid, there was not just one top-tier team, Real Madrid.

...

Never expect the media to cheer for you when you are down. This is an old saying because, compared to this, gloating and mocking are their favorite. At that time, no one would care if the object of their mockery was once a team they had praised to the skies. Especially in a country with strong regional and ethnic sentiments.

Enrique Cerezo slammed the documents on the table, and several newspapers flew out. What made him so angry could not be just a few mocking newspapers. A person in his position, who wasn't made of steel, wouldn't be easily angered. His anger stemmed from the documents he had just held in his hand.

Resignation letters.

A pile of resignation letters.

Everyone knew that Aguirre announced his resignation at the post-match press conference, but they didn't know that it wasn't just the old Mexican who resigned. The assistant coach, two first-team coaches, and the second-team coach all resigned. The old Mexican's departure directly took away almost the entire coaching staff of Atletico Madrid. When renewing the contract, to maintain the continuity of the first-team tactics, the CEO, Hill Jr., absurdly agreed to let Aguirre appoint the heads of the subordinate teams, leading to today's awkward situation.

Cerezo sat heavily in his chair, took off his glasses, and closed his eyes, pressing his temples to try to calm down. Even in this brief moment with his eyes closed, several names floated into his mind: Hill Jr., new coach, negotiations, Aguero...

Players need to focus on their condition, and the head coach needs to focus on the team's performance. As the president of a traditional club, Cerezo had much more to worry about, especially when his predecessor was the legendary president, Hill. No one likes the role of a "puppet." Old Hill was gone, but his shares remained, and Hill Jr. was still the largest shareholder of the club. Cerezo and Hill Jr. had a falling out over the appointment of the old Mexican, Aguirre, and Cerezo had to back down, which further solidified his image as a "puppet president." Since Cerezo took over as president, including the recently resigned Aguirre, Atletico Madrid had changed coaches three times in less than five years. Such a high turnover of coaches is not a healthy sign for any team, and Cerezo was tired of the constant battles with Hill Jr. over the coaching issue.

No matter what, the mess still needed to be cleaned up. Although he was a "puppet president," he was still the nominal first responsible person. A team cannot be without a coach for a day. Now, he was quite willing to leave the decision of the head coach to Hill Jr., although he didn't think Hill Jr. would take over at this time. With this thought, he picked up the phone and dialed the damned number...

In less than half an hour, Cerezo hung up the phone.

This might be the fastest agreement between Cerezo and Hill Jr.: the new head coach would be decided at the end of the season. As for now, Hill Jr. jokingly suggested that Cerezo could take on the role of interim head coach.

Cerezo shook his head with a bitter smile and reached out to randomly pick a document from the pile on the table. This was a personnel file sent by the HR department. Since the new head coach would be decided at the end of the season, the choice of an interim head coach was much simpler. Either an internal candidate or an external hire. It seemed like two choices, but in reality, there was only one. Any coach with ability and reputation wouldn't want to take on a mess at this time, let alone a doomed short-term position. As for those without ability... do you need to hire someone without ability?

Not long after, a phone call came in, from his secretary.

"Mr. President, the team doctor, Lin, wants to see you. Can he come now?"

"Lin? The team doctor?"

Cerezo glanced at the file in his hand, which featured a standard East Asian face, smiling brightly in the photo.