Chapter 203: Making a Fuss Over Nothing

After the journalist repeated his question, José shook his head and said, "Of course, I regret Beckham's injury. As a head coach, I never want to see any player get hurt. If Beckham misses the World Cup, it will be a huge loss for the tournament. The Netherlands has already failed to qualify, and if Beckham can't play, the excitement of the World Cup will undoubtedly take a major hit—nobody wants to see that happen."

José's response still gave the journalist some face. After all, Beckham was injured in the match against Mallorca, and as José had said, no one wanted to see a star like him miss the World Cup.

However, the English journalist wasn't willing to let José off the hook so easily. "But Beckham got injured in the game against Mallorca. So did Roy Keane, and he might also miss the World Cup. As Mallorca's head coach, don't you think you should make a statement about this?"

The surrounding Spanish journalists booed. Regardless of their profession, they stood by their compatriot. More importantly, this was Spain, this was Mallorca—José's territory. The British journalist's aggressive questioning was an outright provocation.

Instead of getting angry, José calmly asked, "Which newspaper are you from?"

"The Sun," the journalist replied smugly.

José nodded. "Mr. Journalist from The Sun, do you happen to know how many fouls Mallorca committed in that match? And how many fouls Manchester United committed? Have you checked the stats?"

The journalist was momentarily stunned.

A voice from the crowd quickly answered, "April 10th, Mallorca vs. Manchester United. The total number of fouls in the match was 31—Mallorca committed 16, Manchester United 15."

José turned toward the speaker, who smiled slightly and added, "I'm Adrián Cameron, sports reporter for Mallorca Daily."

José nodded at Cameron. This reporter was playing along perfectly.

"So, Mr. Journalist from The Sun," José continued, emphasizing the name of the newspaper, "what kind of statement do you expect from me?"

"You injured players. Shouldn't you say something about it?" The Sun journalist asked indignantly.

"How many matches are played in Europe each week? How many players get injured every week?" José pressed on.

Cameron, playing the perfect sidekick, immediately chimed in, "Across Europe, it's impossible to count, but last week, in Spain alone, after three levels of professional leagues finished their matches, 17 players were injured—two of them will be out for over two months."

Some journalists in the room applauded. Even among reporters, having such precise statistics memorized was quite impressive.

José glanced at Cameron with some surprise—this guy had a remarkable memory. But the priority now was dealing with the journalist in front of him.

"In just one round of La Liga, more than a dozen players got injured. If every time a player gets hurt, a coach has to make a statement, then we'd have no time to do anything else. We'd be spending our days running to The Sun's offices to apologize to you esteemed journalists, apologizing until your workday ends, apologizing until we get fired, apologizing until you're satisfied—is that what you want?"

Before the journalist could respond, José continued, "You say injuring someone requires a statement. But in the first leg of the match, my player Thiago Motta was injured and missed several key games. Did Sir Alex Ferguson say anything? No. And I wasn't stupid enough to demand a statement from him either. Because in football, injuries happen—it's part of the game. As long as there's no malicious foul play, there's nothing to dwell on! That's the normal attitude! But here you are, ignoring Motta's injury while blowing Beckham's out of proportion, even spreading baseless conspiracy theories involving Franco. Mr. Journalist from The Sun, tell me, what exactly are you trying to achieve?"

"We… we just want an explanation!" the journalist stammered.

"An explanation? Motta got injured too—give me an explanation, right now. If you can't, then stop asking me for one! What kind of nonsense is this? If García had deliberately injured Beckham, the referee would have punished him on the spot. Even if he somehow got away with it, UEFA would have issued a suspension afterward. Did they? No! Because it was a normal challenge—Beckham was just unlucky, just like Motta. Obsessing over this is the height of stupidity, and trying to stir up controversy over it is even worse—it's pure malice!"

José slammed the table. "It's because of idiots like you that normal matches get disrupted!"

"You… you're attacking me personally!" the journalist protested.

"Oh, so when you accused Franco of orchestrating Beckham's injury to help García make the national team, that wasn't a personal attack? You can dish it out, but you can't take it? There's a saying in China—'The emperor isn't worried, but the eunuch is in a panic.' Ferguson hasn't asked me for an explanation, so who the hell are you to demand one? Do you think you represent Beckham and Manchester United? If not, then shut up. You have the right to ask for an explanation, and I have the right to ignore you. Got it?"

"Well… that wasn't me who said it," the journalist tried to defend himself.

With a loud smack, José slammed a newspaper onto the table—it was a recent edition of The Sun. The headline was clear as day: "Beckham's Injury—An Argentine Conspiracy?"

"Oh? It wasn't you who said it? The whole article is filled with irresponsible speculation, and now you want an explanation from me? What kind of explanation? What kind of nonsense are you on about? You lot fabricate sensationalist stories just to sell papers, and now you want to talk about ethics