The Scout or Welcome to South Bermondsey
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I didn't want to help him or support him in any way, so once he started, I just let him talk.
"So then what did the Big Boss offer me? …Or rather, not really offer but you could say he even consulted with me…" He hesitated, and I sat and waited. "Well, anyway, he suggested to me, because we were stuck in such a tight spot and there was no opening in sight, that we think about replacing our Harris and that I become the general manager… Something like that."
"And well? So what did you say?"
"Me?" He didn't seem to have expected the question. "I didn't know what to say at the time. And then that episode happened and everything seemed to get better… and then about two weeks ago I was asked again what I thought about the fact that… well, about whether I might need to take the old man's place before the end of the season."
"Fucking wankers!" I knocked over my glass and asked him, "Did you talk to the old man?"
"Bloody hell no Alex! No! I didn't tell him!"
"I hope you didn’t tell the boys!"
"What are you nuts? Who do you think I am?!"
"All right, all right!" The bartender's assistant, a young bloke with spider web tattoos on both elbows, brought us more of the same drinks and I ordered a whiskey.
"So what do you think about all of it Johnny? By the way, what did you say to the offer?"
"What could I say to them? You know what a mess our old man got me out of…"
"What about them?" I asked.
"What about them? They said think carefully, Mr. Martin. Such offers are not often given."
"Not often…"
"That's just it…"
We sat in silence for a while. The whiskey was nice, so I ordered more.
"Come on, Johnny. If you want my advice," I put down my glass and looked at him, "if I were you, I'd go talk to the Big Boss again. Explain to him that you have to tell Harris everything otherwise you'll feel like an wanker. I'm sure the Big Boss will understand everything."
"I guess you're right…" he finished his drink, clearly relieved. "So, how was your cannibal today?" Johnny laughed. "He probably ate their red headed Scotsman and made a mess of everything."
"Yes well, the main thing was that he was not praised too much…"
‘Well, you wouldn't expect that from the old man." Johnny said.
"That's for sure. So what? One for the road? I have to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow."
"Okay, let’s do it. By the way, how are you going to get to Sheffield on Tuesday?" If you want, I'll get a spot for you."
"No, thanks. I'll get there on my own, I need to stop by Doncaster on the way."
"Someone interesting at Rovers?"
"There’s one kid who’s an attacking midfielder but he’s not very stable yet. We need to check him out in a serious situation."
"And who did they get for the Cup?"
"Norwich."
"Well, if he can do anything against those bone crushers, then the bloke really has talent."
"Yeah, we’ll see. Shall we get out of here?"
"Yeah, come on."
As he got into the taxi, he gave my hand a firm squeeze.
"Alex, don't tell anyone what you just heard from me," Johnny said, giving me a conspiratorial nod. "You're a good mate. Thank you!"
"Yeah right," I laughed. "Cheers, take care of yourself mate!"
2
The bone crushers were up to par as Johnny had predicted, my boy from Doncaster couldn't do anything against those Norwich City boys and was just trampled over and flattened in the first half. Then by the seventieth minute, when the Rovers already had a score of nil-three, he was completely replaced. I didn't stay to watch the beating anymore so I went back to Sheffield.
It's a great idea that they play Cup matches at different times, that way you can watch a game in one city, and have plenty of time to get to the neighbouring one to see another match.
"Hey Alex! How's your ward doing?" asked Johnny who was the first of our people I met in Bramall Lane.
"He’s a little weak so far. How are our blokes doing?"
"There's a warm-up session in twenty minutes and the mood after Reading is combative."
"Well, may God grant such a mood as that…"
Mood is very important in football but unfortunately, it is not everything. We started quite briskly, and in the first half-hour we could have opened the scoring twice but in one case the ball struck the crossbar slightly and then went out of bounds and in the second the United goalkeeper stopped the ball from going into a corner with an incredible jump. They had no mercy on us and by the time the break came we were already losing nil-two.
I would be better not to tell you what happened in the locker room, but everyone got it, including my Cameroonian, although I think he did his best. However old man Harris needed blood and fresh meat and finally, he told everyone to get out, and promised that if we lost we would all be walking home.
Apparently it worked as during the second half, the blokes went all out and my ward was also in top form. First during one of his attacks he almost reached the point where he could have struck from the left flank and if it had not been for their defender, who knocked the ball away at the last moment, we would have scored. Then, from one of the corners, Fleming spun the ball right into Iron Mikey's bald head, and Iron Mikey had no choice but to score. It was his first goal of the season and in fact I don't remember him scoring last season either, but Mikey is Mikey and he didn't even change the expression on his mug, as if everything was how it was supposed to be. He just tore the ball away from their defenders and took it to centre pitch.