The children were quietly ushered into the dim bedroom. The sun cast strange shadows as it filtered through the heavy drawn curtains. The room was dominated by a large bed in which a wizened figure sat. His hair was white and sprung out from his head. A machine next to him quietly beeped, a thick eider down was drawn up to his chest. His arms lay on the bedspread, immobile.
The children giggled as they approached, pushing each other forward until they reached the bed side. The female adult behind them spoke in gentle tones ‘Now, you’ve only got 5 minutes. He gets tired easily and you mustn’t excite him’. The tallest child, a boy, spoke first ‘Grand Papa, can you tell us about the game again? ‘Yes’, whispered another, ‘The one when you beat the Scum 3-1’. The other children squealed and nodded in agreement.
Something stirred, the old man’s eyes crept open and he smiled, his voice was soft and melodious, a voice that had charmed many a female in its time.
‘It was back in the year 2008, a warm May evening, 18 or so fine young men gathered to absolutely stuff the Arsenal Supporters Club of Hong Kong’. The children quietly cheered and hugged each other. The adult quietly left the room, a faint knowing smile playing across her face.
‘The game started, we were up for it and our over enthusiasm showed. Passes were wayward and we lacked cohesion. The scum’s goalkeeper had a fine kick on him and used it to put the back four under pressure. But we had the man mountain, Janek’. One of the children piped up’ Is that Janek, the gay cross dressing Queen of the Cayman Islands?’ ‘That’s him’, replied the old man ‘He played a massive part in that game, but more of that nonce later. We had an early setback when Enter the Pitbull knackered himself, the defence had to be shifted. And then it happened’.
The room fell silent apart from the beeping of the machine next to the old man. The children’s faces fell. Tears started to gather in their eyes.
‘They scored’, the old man continued, in barely a whisper. One of the older boys mouthed ‘Not true’ , shaking his head whilst clenching his fists which were ramrod straight by his side.
‘Young Dannyboy, a lion of a man, erred in his passing, the scum forward seized on it. I tried to tackle him, but somehow he squeezed the ball past our fine goalie, Edman, and they were ahead’.
Darkness settled over the room, all the children were crying now. The old man gathered himself and spoke ‘They celebrated and our optimism shrank, but James10 and the crowd roared us on. We forgot about the girlie screams and the theatrics, we got on with our job. Kinson was superb at right back, Savio was resolute next to Janek, I was shuffled out to left back. The game kicked off again, the sweat poured down and blinded me, Paul battled hard in midfield, linking up with Craig and Dan The Barrel. Suddenly, I think it was Craig, was skipping through their area when their keeper brought him down. A stonewall penalty. Craig himself stepped up and Berbatov like, buried it in the corner. Game on you twats.’
The children hugged each and jumped up and down. The old man smiled. He looked out towards the end of the bed and carried on. ‘Half time and our tails were up. Substitutions were made, I was taken off for that melt Daniel and James Yeung came on for James 10. Within minutes James Y had had his first shot. Not long after that he took control of the ball, held off one of their defenders and it was in the back of the net’.
The children held each other’s hands, rapt and glowing in the knowledge of what was coming next.
‘More subs on, Chris patrolled the right wing, Linesman harried in midfield. Tony danced around their tackles. We were all over them. Edman even swapped with CK in goal. But the cheating scum injured CK before he could make much of an impression. Edman went back between the sticks. Then the third, I think, my memory is hazy’. Not a word was spoken as the children gathered closer.
‘A corner in and Waddle9 stoops to conquer. A lovely header, game over.’ The children cheered and jumped as one. ‘We stuffed the Scum’ yelled the older boys. The old man smiled just as the female returned to the room. ‘Come on now, that’s enough excitement for one day’, she gathered them and herded them out.
Just before the door closed, Abigail, a mere 4 years old, peaked her head around the door and yelled, in a lisp ‘My old man, says be an Arsenal fan’. The reply came back, the old man lifting himself off the sheets and bellowing with ferocity, ‘I SAID FUCK OFF, BOLLOCKS YOU’RE A CUNT!!!!’ He sank back into his pillow as he heard his words being repeated down the corridor by the youthful voices. Abigail smiled and whispered ‘Ramos be with you’ and closed the door.
- BennyCat
