Chapter 97

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The next day, Audrey found a doctor in the hospital, paid for a hospital room, and then carried Melanie, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder at dawn, inside. He laid her on the bed, covered her with a blanket, and then walked out of the hospital, leaning against a wall outside and lighting a cigarette.

Not long after, Melanie ran out of the hospital. Seeing Audrey smoking outside, she slowed her hurried steps, walked up to him, and said softly, "I'll go buy breakfast."

"No, I'll go. You don't speak the language."

As Audrey was about to go to a nearby restaurant, he saw Puskás's wife, Elizabeth, walking from a distance, tightly gripping her handbag, looking very nervous.

From her demeanor, Audrey knew she was on guard against pickpockets or robbers. Budapest was notorious for its chaotic security, being the largest black market trading center in Europe, where all sorts of unsavory characters mingled.

Audrey approached her, and she visibly relaxed.

"Elizabeth, is there money in the bag?"

Audrey asked without hesitation.

Elizabeth nodded frankly.

"Keep the money. I'll cover Ferenc's medical expenses."

Audrey said firmly.

Puskás's illness was incurable, but he needed round-the-clock care, and taking medication could only slow the progression of the disease.

Elizabeth shook her head firmly.

Audrey looked sad and said in a deep voice, "Elizabeth, don't refuse. Really, your health isn't good either. If you consider me your child, don't refuse me. Do you want me to watch you suffer?"

Elizabeth, who suffered from diabetes, hesitated and said hoarsely, "Audrey, you are a good child, but we can't accept your help."

"Remember? Ferenc said I'm stubborn. Let me be stubborn this once."

Elizabeth looked at Audrey, who had not slept all night and had bloodshot eyes, and sighed heavily, no longer insisting.

She went into the hospital to visit Puskás, while Audrey took Melanie to a nearby restaurant for breakfast.

Sitting in the ordinary restaurant, Melanie asked curiously, "Puskás used to be a superstar, right?"

Audrey understood her implication and said calmly, "Back then, playing football could make you famous worldwide, but it couldn't make you rich. They earned about the same as miners."

Melanie suddenly understood and continued, "If we tell this to Real Madrid..."

Audrey, in a terrible mood, said with disgust, "Don't mention Real Madrid!"

Realizing his outburst, Audrey closed his eyes and said calmly, "I'm sorry, I'm in a bad mood. It's not directed at you."

Audrey had once hated Millwall because he had seen football hooligans beating up opposing fans on the streets in the chaotic 1980s. As for Real Madrid, apart from his mentor-student relationship with Puskás, he had no particular feelings, neither liking nor disliking them.

But because of Puskás, Audrey now felt a strong aversion to Real Madrid.

He clearly remembered that in the original history, ten years later, when Puskás, impoverished by medical expenses, had to sell his honor medals, Real Madrid learned about it and immediately came to offer condolences, organizing a charity match for Puskás.

The star-studded "Galácticos" arrived in Budapest, earning immense popularity and goodwill, and then left gracefully.

Under the guise of helping Puskás, the charity match ticket sales approached $100,000, but Puskás's family received less than one-tenth of that!

The following year, Puskás died of his illness.

Without a doubt, Real Madrid was just putting on a show. Otherwise, why would they leave without even confirming Puskás's medical expenses?

Spending tens of millions or even hundreds of millions of dollars each year to build the "Galácticos," they were stingy with a little medical expense for one of the club's greatest heroes.

Real Madrid seemed to have forgotten who made them so prestigious!

Before the 1950s, Real Madrid, born into a golden nest, had noble blood, but their achievements did not make them particularly outstanding or prestigious. It was only in the 1950s, with five consecutive European Cup victories, that they could stand tall and proud in Europe. During that glorious period, Puskás was a key player in the last two championships. After joining Real Madrid, he brought the club five consecutive league titles and was the top scorer for four consecutive years, still ranking fourth in Real Madrid's all-time scoring list. Only three people rank ahead of him: Di Stefano, Santillana, and Sánchez.

In the 1995/96 season, Real Madrid fans could count on their fingers that it had been thirty years since their last European Cup victory!

Thirty years ago, when that glorious era ended, Puskás was still on the team.

Now, Real Madrid could only boast about that period's glory.

But even so, Puskás was just a pawn in their global commercialization ten years later.

And when they boasted about their history, they still mentioned Puskás.

Audrey, who had lived for nearly fifty years, had seen through the world's vicissitudes. Football was never perfect, filled with betrayal, indifference, and hatred. Turncoats were common, but he was not a saint. He saw through it but could not remain indifferent.

Even if his appearance now prevented history from repeating itself, a fire still burned in his heart. It took him a long time to calm down. It was not worth it, not necessary!

He wanted Puskás to receive the best treatment and his family to live more comfortably. This was far more meaningful than endless hatred.

After breakfast, when they returned to the hospital, Audrey saw a slender young man outside the ward. He was in his mid-twenties, with a scholarly demeanor, and his glasses made him look somewhat awkward.

"Nagy!"

Audrey called softly from the door.

Nagy Sándor turned his head, looking at Audrey in surprise, then walked up to him, extended his hand, and said formally, "I didn't expect you to really come."

The international letter was sent by Nagy to Audrey. He was a member of the Hungarian national team coaching staff and had worked with Audrey for half a year. He was Audrey's only friend in Hungary besides Puskás.

Audrey did not shake Nagy's extended hand but gave him a hug and said angrily, "You make me sad. Do I seem so heartless to you?"

Nagy sighed and said honestly, "No, because you are very busy. I thought, even if you came, it would be in mid-September."

Audrey suddenly understood. Mid-September was an FIFA match day, when he had more free time.

The two talked about Puskás's illness in the corridor, and then the conversation turned to football.

"The problems are deep-rooted. The youth training foundation needs to be rebuilt. Hungary has completely disappeared from the football map. Your generation was the last glory."

Nagy's tone was very sad.

Hungarian football was in decline. It was no longer possible to create a strong team through a national system as it was half a century ago. Moreover, the world had changed, and football had become more scientific. It was not enough to just pull out a group of strong talents from the military to quickly become powerful.

Audrey patted his shoulder and said softly, "You can't change much, really. Football is a game from the bottom up. Without a good foundation, there can be no good upper structure. Come back to London with me. Honestly, you understand my football philosophy the best. Together, we can create an unimaginable future."

Nagy looked like a bookworm, but he seemed to have inherited the genes of the football culture of Hungarian coffee shops from half a century ago. He was a tactical fanatic who could study tactics with Audrey tirelessly all night. He was a dedicated theorist, but his personality made it impossible for him to lead an adult team. He was very introverted and could explain tactics in detail, but he lacked the most important aspect of football: passion.

"I'll decide next month."

Nagy said softly.

Audrey thought about it and understood.

Nagy was holding out hope to stay in Hungary.

The 1996 European Cup qualifiers were in the final stages. Hungary's group included Switzerland, Sweden, Iceland, and Turkey. Hungary's situation was very dire, with only a theoretical chance of qualifying. If they did not win their next away match against Turkey, their hopes of qualifying for the European Cup would be dashed.

Audrey nodded and said, "Alright, I'll wait for your reply next month."

If Nagy could help him, Audrey felt it would be a great boost. Although Nagy lacked the talent to lead an adult team, he had the skills in training and implementing football philosophy. His patience and insight in coaching young players were something Audrey admired. At least, Audrey himself could not tirelessly correct players' bad habits. In Audrey's view, if a player could perform, he should perform. He did not have the time to correct every bad habit one-on-one. A first-team manager was not a youth coach, teaching players how to play, but making sure that players who could play could play as a team.

Audrey stayed in Budapest for another day, paid for Puskás's medical expenses, and then began contacting the best hospitals in Britain. He wanted to do everything he could to ensure that the old man received the best medical care.

When he returned to London on Wednesday, he immediately headed to the small town of Cleethorpes in Lincolnshire, northeast England, where Millwall was playing Grimsby in the League Cup at Blundell Park.

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