"Coward, doesn't dare to confront me, coward..."
Van Gaal, who had just slowed down his steps, was muttering curses. Just as he finished, he stepped on a water bottle someone had discarded on the ground, slipped, and ended up doing a splits and sitting on the ground~
"Ah!!!"
With a crack, his hefty yet expensive trousers split at the crotch on the spot.
His balls pressed against the cold tiled floor, sending a shivering chill;
Followed by a burning, tearing pain from his groin, which made him instinctively let out a howl!
"What's he doing?" a staff member was dumbfounded.
"Is the old gentleman practicing some moves?" another person asked.
Someone wanted to help Van Gaal up, but the Dutchman who had made a fool of himself was fiercely proud. Remembering how the silver-haired Pellegrini could flee nimbly, he thought, "I have black hair, why can't I beat him in football or in physique?"
