Chapter 692: Get the Hell Out, All of You

"Hejabvb!"

"Hejabvb!"

Though some time had passed since the match ended, the cheers of the Dortmund fans at Signal Iduna Park had not ceased.

After all, for Dortmund supporters, winning three trophies in a single season was truly too staggering.

"What Dortmund has achieved this season is a miracle that can hardly be replicated!"

"Yeah, I agree with that point, but it's worth mentioning that Ty is leaving soon; at that time, Dortmund will reveal their true form..."

"No! Now is the time to win the title; what we need to do is celebrate, not think about next season. Dawson, you need to understand that!"

"Haha! Sure!"

Inside the press conference room at Signal Iduna Park.

Nearly all of Dortmund's players were present, along with head coach Escrivá and assistant coach Martí.

However, the press room at Signal Iduna Park could not accommodate so many people at once, so the reporters chose to conduct interviews in batches.

After all, Dortmund was in no hurry; they were the victors of this match.

Champions League champions—this was enough to keep one awake all night from excitement!

Since they couldn't sleep, they might as well stay and accept interviews!

Click-click!

Following the camera lenses, Escrivá slowly walked in.

Just previously interviewed, Dortmund captain Reus was in tears, yet Escrivá appeared extremely calm, which quickly sparked the reporters' curiosity.

Escrivá sat down and, without waiting for questions, immediately began his speech: "Undoubtedly, this is a great victory."

Click!

"Actually, even now I feel somewhat surprised, or rather, incredulous. Hmm... because since I became a professional football coach, I never imagined standing on such a podium."

"But today you indeed made it happen!"

A reporter flattered.

"Yeah, thank you!"

Escrivá wore a smile.

However, though the reporters were friendly today, that could not erase Escrivá's past memories.

The respected Mr. Ferran had been bullied; he had been bullied by European football journalists!

"Two weeks, just two weeks ago!"

Escrivá held up two fingers, staring straight at the reporters: "Two weeks ago you asked me whether Dortmund could win the Champions League, whether Dortmund could win the German Cup."

"Now I can answer that question for you: the Bundesliga title, the German Cup title, and the Champions League title—all of these belong to us."

"Wow!!"

Some Dortmund fans in the stands began heckling, feeling that what Escrivá said was extremely shocking.

But this was not yet over.

Escrivá rested his arms on the table, fingers interlaced.

"We see the Dortmund of today; we are immersed in glory. Everyone is singing our praises, though of course that excludes the supporters of Chelsea and Bayern."

"It seems we have gained everything now, but I will never forget what Dortmund suffered a few months ago, or rather, half a year ago!"

?

At this moment, the reporters realized something was amiss.

"Ferran, are you trying to talk about the hardships Dortmund faced this season? Starting from the Round of 16, your Champions League journey has been far from easy."

"No, the hardships of the tournament are issues we needed to handle ourselves. What I am discussing now is respect, respect!"

"When I spent 75 million euros to bring Ty from Manchester United here, how many fans insulted me, insulted Dortmund?"

Escrivá's expression was unpleasant, giving the impression of a final reckoning, which frightened the front-row reporters into shuffling backward.

"Ferran, those matters are in the past now; isn't bringing them up a bit of an overreaction? After all, you are now Champions League winners; you should be enjoying the joy of victory."

"In the past? No! Fuck!"

Escrivá nearly shouted, rising from his chair as he spoke: "You think these matters are in the past, but have you ever considered how much impact what you said had on me, on my players?"

"Oh, these things meant nothing to you; you may have even forgotten them by now."

"But I will not!"

Bang!

With a fist slammed onto the table, Escrivá turned the lively press conference into silence.

"Just last summer, when the loan barely began, you rushed to my Twitter account and called me a spy sent by Bayern, said my actions would bankrupt Dortmund, claimed I was harming the team, accused me of pandering to China and blindly worshipping China."

"You said Dortmund was bound to fail this season because I spent money I shouldn't have during the summer transfer window, claiming that donating those 75 million euros would have been better than signing players."

"Dortmund would win nothing this season; they couldn't exchange 75 million euros for a Bundesliga title..."

Escrivá mimicked the tone of the mockers.

"Wow, how logical; you were so right!"

Pointing at the camera: "Well then, did you ever think back then that we would win three consecutive titles, from the Bundesliga to the German Cup, and now the Champions League? We won every trophy, crushing your favorite teams beneath us?"

"All of you who spoke ill in my comments section, who doubted me—get the hell out of here!"

Escrivá grabbed the table with both hands and shoved violently.

Bang!

The table was overturned, crashing heavily to the floor.

The reporters in the front few rows jumped up on the spot.

Ugh...

Crack, crack!

Crack, crack, crack!!!!!

Under these circumstances, reporters naturally wanted to conduct a focused interview with Escrivá, but the Spaniard did not give them the opportunity.

After flipping the table, Escrivá left.

……

Check Dongqiu Di Hot Discussion: What's going on? Escrivá angrily flips the table during the post-match interview, then leaves directly.

【666666】

【I turned off my computer too early... I just got into bed, opened my phone, and saw this news, so what the hell did I miss?】

【Saint Escrivá is still fierce; usually he's timid, but when he truly has the chance, he never holds back. Not bad, stronger than Ten Hag!】

【In the end, Saint Escrivá still relies on Tang Ye; to be honest, his actual ability is just so-so, but I still quite like this coach.】

【The person upstairs didn't spare my Saint Escrivá either, boo hoo hoo.】

"Mr. Ferran, what's wrong?"

Escrivá had just stepped out of the press room and walked only a few paces down the hallway when he encountered Tang Ye walking toward him.

Tang Ye looked somewhat anxious; clearly, he had seen what Escrivá did at the press conference via his phone or television.

"What do you mean, 'what's wrong'?"

Escrivá approached Tang Ye, restoring the smile he had worn when winning the championship.