"He might be saying what he always says: when I meet Real Madrid, I feel great."
The white handkerchiefs appeared again at the Santiago Bernabeu Stadium, with the Merengue fans booing Schuster, booing the fans on the field, and some extreme fans even cursing loudly, thinking that none of the eleven players on the field deserved to wear that pure white.
"Damn it." Schuster's face was ashen on the sidelines. He looked at Francisco and said, "Sometimes I really doubt if the TMD team I'm leading is Real Madrid. Why does every opponent we meet dare to initiate the attack?"
"They clearly entered the game faster than we did."
"I think," Francisco looked at Schuster and said, "we need to stabilize the team's footing first."
Schuster swung his right hand vigorously, his golden hair a bit tousled by the wind. Listening to the boos around, his eyes flashed fiercely, "Are you kidding me!"
"This TMD is the Bernabeu!"
"Do you want me to be sacked tomorrow?"
