罗伯逊自传中英对照（1）——马德里之夜（1）
马德里之夜
灯亮的时候已经是早上六点了。首先，我眨了眨眼让眼睛适应亮度。 接下来，当我的注意力恢复时，我恍然大悟。对于利物浦球员、凯尔特人的终生球迷和苏格兰国脚来说，没有比这更伟大的时刻。但是啤酒引起的脑雾、睡眠不足和彻头彻尾的超现实主义让我很难接受。站在我面前的是所有英雄中的英雄肯尼·达格利什爵士。不仅如此，他可爱的妻子玛丽娜还告诉他，不，他不能继续聚会，因为他们要赶飞机，如果他们现在不离开，他们就会错过航班。
作为一个来自克拉克斯顿的男孩，我是在肯尼国王的故事中长大的。我崇拜他的父亲一遍又一遍地告诉我他的传奇故事，所以对我来说，这既是一件美事又让人惊喜。但事实并非如此。七个小时前，我站在万达大都会球场上，将利物浦的第六座欧冠奖杯抛向马德里的夜空，被泛光灯弄瞎了眼。“继续安德鲁，”我心想，“你是怎么开始理解这一切的？”
如果我以前从未经历过这样的事情，那么我敢打赌马德里欧洲之星酒店也没有。这是一个基地，在这里经过难忘的48小时后，我们将永远改变自己的生活。我们在凌晨回到那里，在扶梯上跳舞，高唱“Allez Allez Allez”，阿利松带着奖杯进入一个拥挤的房间。这是一个结束所有派对的派对。不是因为喝醉了——尽管我必须说实话，这是少有的小伙子们可以披肩散发的夜晚之一——而是纯粹的欢愉。
对于每个有幸在那里的人——球员、工作人员、家人、支持者——我们所有人分享的愉悦比我们消费的任何东西都更要令人陶醉。我酒量不大，但那天晚上我完全没有达到那个你开始感觉脚有点不稳定的阶段。我只是不想让今晚结束。，我希望永远持续下去。酒店的管理人员有其他想法，这就是他们打开灯的原因，让肯尼爵士和他的家人赶飞机，让我们其他人寻找其他地方继续喝。
对我来说，这意味着和亚当·拉拉纳一起去我的房间。我们两人乘坐前一天晚上带我们下楼的同一部电梯上楼，但现在我们是不同的人。我们的性格没有改变，但我们的地位改变了。就像肯尼国王在被封爵后被称为“爵士”一样，我们现在将被称为欧冠冠军。这是你永远不会厌倦听到的。“欧冠冠军安迪·罗伯逊。”哇。我必须强调，我不会到处这样描述自己，如果我这样做了，我完全期待我的朋友会打我一巴掌，但我并不羞于说当电视评论员这么讲，或者我被介绍为一个活动的客人，并是用这九个字时我会感到激动。这也不仅仅是个人的骄傲，尤其是我知道我只是团队的一员，而且我比任何人都清楚在此过程中还有很多其他人帮助过我。最重要的是，我明白这对我的家人和参与我旅程的其他人意味着什么。但是，与里斯本雄狮队、传奇的利物浦队以及皇家马德里、AC米兰、拜仁慕尼黑和巴塞罗那的伟大球员竞争，一名足球运动员怎能不从身边获得一些东西呢？难怪拉拉纳和我自己需要再喝一杯！
问题是，我们真的买不到。欧战的客场规则非常简单——球员不能点酒到他们的房间，而且我们的迷你酒吧总是在我们到达之前就清空了。就这些严格执行的规定而言，我们的新地位毫无用处。没有交易可谈，没有迈克尔·爱德华兹风格的谈判来获得我们想要的东西，规则就是规则，再多的恳求、乞讨或讨价还价都不会改变这一点。我爱拉拉纳，他是我最好的伙伴之一，但在这一点上，他和我一样，完全没用。所以我们做了所有足球运动员在无法得到他们想要的东西时所做的事情——我们向工作人员寻求帮助。在这方面我们很幸运。
我们团队里有马克·莱兰和哈里森·金斯顿，他们是俱乐部分析团队的成员，他们帮助策划了我们对托特纳姆热刺的胜利。这些伙计不仅在他们的日常工作中表现出色，而且他们也非常足智多谋，所以我们请他们搞到啤酒。他们通过客房服务送到了他们的房间，酒一到，他们就带到了我们身边。简单但有效。显然，这远没有他们在决赛前的准备工作或之前几周和几个月的工作那么有含金量，但在那个时候，他们做不到任何事情会如此重要，而且这又给了我们一个感谢他们在球队背后付出努力的理由。
我们决定通宵有两个原因。显而易见的是，我们都下定决心要细细品味每一分钟。但也有人意识到，如果我们在飞回家前睡一两个小时，我们醒来时只会感觉很糟糕。不仅是整晚熬夜的疲倦会成为问题，还有比赛中的疲劳会在某个时候开始出现。我只是想尽可能长时间地推迟这种感觉。我不确定那天早上的谈话是否会被广泛认为是最高标准的。有很多关于前一天晚上发生的事情以及在利物浦等待我们的事情的闲聊，但总的来说，我们只是笑了笑。
有一阵，我和队花一起坐在床上，我们俩同时开始盯着我们的奖牌。我们只是看着对方，然后放声大笑，因为奖牌周围的丝带没有系好，你可以看到我们的脖子都被割断了。我无法告诉你队花的想法，但对我来说，这是一个回忆的时刻，与我们前一年的银牌相比。现在我们有了金牌，唯一的问题是他们像疯了一样刺激我们。我们试图挠脖子，把连帽衫裹在奖带上，但我们从来没有脱下它们。根本不可能。
一想到那枚银牌，就让我想起了几乎整整一年前的一些不好的回忆。我们两场欧冠决赛的结果之间的差异再大不过了，这就是为什么我对我们刚刚击败的热刺球员如此同情的原因。我很清楚他们的感受。奇怪的是，即使在2019年给我们带来的狂喜狂潮中，我们仍然可以对2018年的经历产生一种逮虾户的感觉。 我说这很奇怪，但我想在某些方面这是完全自然的，十二个月前我们输给皇家马德里时所遭受的痛苦促使我们取得了成功。我们将它铭记，在需要时将其用作动力，因为对于一个有志气的人来说，我们知道我们不想再有这种感觉。
英文原文：
One Night In Madrid
IT was six o’clock in the morning when the lights finally went on. First I blinked as my eyes came to terms with the brightness. Next, I did a double take as my focus returned. For a Liverpool player, lifelong Celtic fan and Scotland international, there could be no greater sight. But a combination of lager-induced brain fog, lack of sleep and outright surrealism made it difficult to take in. Stood in front of me was Sir Kenny Dalglish, the hero of all heroes. Not only that but he was being told by his lovely wife, Marina, that no, he couldn’t carry the party on because they had a flight to catch and if they didn’t leave right now they would miss it.
For a boy from Clarkston who had grown up on tales of King Kenny, told to me over and over again by my dad who worshipped him, this was as good – and as bizarre – as it gets. Except it wasn’t. Seven hours earlier I had been stood on the pitch at the Wanda Metropolitano, blinded by the floodlights as I thrust Liverpool’s sixth European Cup into the Madrid night sky. ‘Go on Andrew,’ I thought to myself. ‘How do you even begin to make sense of all this?’
If I’d never experienced anything like this before then I’d wager the Madrid Eurostars Hotel hadn’t either. This was our base for 48 unforgettable hours around a fixture that would change all of our lives forever. We arrived back there in the early hours, dancing down an escalator chanting ‘Allez Allez Allez’ with Alisson Becker carrying the European Cup into a crowded room. This had been the party to end all parties. Not in the sense of what was drunk – although I have to be honest, this was one of those rare nights when the lads could let our hair down – but in the sense of sheer jubilation.
For everyone who was lucky enough to be there – players, staff, families, supporters – the feeling of euphoria that all of us were sharing was much more intoxicating than whatever we were consuming. I’m not a big drinker but that night I indulged without ever getting to that stage where you start feeling a bit unsteady on your feet. I just didn’t want the night to end. I wanted it to carry on forever. Management at the hotel had other ideas, which was why they turned the lights on, sending Sir Kenny and his family for their plane and leaving the rest of us looking for somewhere else to get a drink.
For me, that meant heading up to my room with Adam Lallana. The pair of us went up in the same lift that had brought us down the previous evening, but now we were different people. Our personalities hadn’t changed but our status had. Just like King Kenny gets to be called ‘Sir’ after being knighted, we would now be known as European Cup winners. It’s something you could never get sick of hearing. ‘European Cup winner Andy Robertson.’ Wow. I have to stress that I don’t go around describing myself like that and I’d fully expect a slap from one of my mates if I did, but I’m not ashamed to say that it gives me a buzz when a TV commentator says it or I’m announced as a guest at an event with those five wonderful words. It’s not just personal pride either, especially as I know I’m only part of a team and I know better than anyone that there are many others who helped me along the way. More than anything, I understand what it means to my family and everyone else who has been part of my journey. But how could a footballer not take something out of being in the company of the Lisbon Lions, the legendary Liverpool teams and the greats of Real Madrid, AC Milan, Bayern Munich and Barcelona? No wonder Lallana and myself needed another drink!
The problem was, we literally couldn’t get one. The rules on European away trips are quite simple – players cannot order alcohol to be brought to their rooms and our mini-bars are always emptied before we’ve even arrived. As far as these strictly enforced regulations go, our new status counted for nothing. There were no deals to be done, no Michael Edwards- style negotiating to get what we wanted, rules are rules and no amount of pleading, begging or bargaining was going to change that. I love Lallana, he’s one of my best mates, but at this point he was, like me, absolutely useless. So we did what all footballers do when they can’t get what they want, we turned to members of staff for help. In this case we were lucky.
In our company were Mark Leyland and Harrison Kingston, members of the club’s analysis team who had helped plot our victory over Tottenham Hotspur. Not only are these lads outstanding at their day jobs, they are also hugely resourceful, so we tasked them with obtaining the beer that, up to that point, was eluding us. They had room service sent up to their rooms and as soon as it arrived they brought it along to us. Simple but effective. Obviously it wasn’t anywhere near as important as their work in the build- up to the final, or in the weeks and months previously, but at that point in time there was nothing they could have done that would have mattered so much and it gave us yet another reason to be grateful for the efforts of the team behind the team.
We’d decided to pull an all-nighter for two reasons. The obvious one was that we were all determined to savour every minute. But there was also a realisation that if we went to bed for an hour or two before flying home, we’d only wake up feeling terrible. It wasn’t just the tiredness of being up all hours that would have been a problem, it was the fatigue from the game that was going to kick in at some point. I just wanted to delay that feeling for as long as possible. I’m not sure the conversation that morning would be widely considered as being of the highest standard. There was a lot of small talk about what had happened the night before and what awaited us back in Liverpool but, in the main, we just had a laugh.
At one point I was sitting on the bed with Ads and we both started staring at our medals at exactly the same time. We just looked at each other and burst out laughing because the ribbons round the medals aren’t the best and you could see both our necks cutting up. I couldn’t tell you what Ads was thinking but for me it was a moment of reflection, compared to where we’d been the year before with the silver one. Now we had gold ones and the only problem was they were irritating us like mad. We were trying to scratch our necks and wrap our hoodies around the ribbons but we were never taking them off. Not a chance.
Just thinking of that silver medal brought back some bad memories from almost exactly a year earlier. The difference between the aftermaths of our two Champions League finals couldn’t have been greater, which was why I had so much sympathy for the Spurs players we had just beaten. I knew exactly how they were feeling. Strangely, it was still possible to almost have a sense of déjà vu about our own experiences from 2018, even in the midst of the rush of ecstasy that 2019 was giving us. I say strangely but I suppose in some ways it’s totally natural, simply because it was the pain that had been inflicted when we lost to Real Madrid twelve months previously that drove us on to this success. We kept it with us, using it as a motivation whenever we needed it because, to a man, we knew that we didn’t want to feel like that again.
