6.
Saturday, January 31 - Transfer Deadline Day
Hot water blasted onto my face before fading away to a weak dribble. Mansfield Town's Field Mill stadium is said to be the oldest in the football league, with the first verified match taking place there in 1861. The showers in the away dressing room were relatively new and like most new things they had intentionally been made shit. At waist height was a button. I pressed it and hot water blasted onto my face for eight seconds until the flow ceased.
I decided that I would press the button every five seconds. That would guarantee a constant flow, right?
Wrong.
The person whose job it was to stop enjoying my shower was a genius, a true floating gabrain. Not only did the shower reject any input made while it was dispensing water, it also ignored anything from the three seconds after it had done its work. I snarled and slamd the button again. I wasn't going to take this shit from anyone, let alone a bathroom fixture.
All around the shower block were exasperated players. Magnus was using this ordeal as a way to practise mindfulness. Banksy was chanically pressing the button once every fifteen seconds or so. Henri was becoming enraged. "You will not break !" he snapped, reaching out to throttle the pipe.
I hit the button, counted, and got to seven before the flow stopped. I did it again and counted to eight. Then eight, then seven. They had programd the showers to dispense variable rewards! These Mansfield fuckers were really playing dirty pool with us. ntal disintegration 20.
In the unit next to , Lee Hudson yelled, "Fuck this!" and stord off. Dan Badford rushed to take the space. He looked at , opened his mouth, thought better of it, and turned away.
"What?" I said.
"Nothing."
Ever since the United ga, Dan's Morale had been going crazy, fluctuating from abysmal to superb like a seismograph placed on top of a drunk penguin in a shopping trolley. I had been waiting for a clue about what was causing his mood swings but with no luck. I an, the obvious thing was that a big club was tapping him up and he wanted to leave. I mashed the cursed button. "Out with it," I said to both the shower and Dan.
"Don't you have to talk to the dia?"
"Peter's doing it," I said. "For the last ti," I added, darkly.
He looked shifty. "Okay, ah... Look, can I talk to you on Sealbiscuit? Bit of a chinwag, as my mum calls it."
"It's transfer deadline day and I'm a football manager with half a million quid burning a hole in his pocket. Today's a terrible day to wag chins."
He didn't seem put out and his Morale didn't drop. "Sorry, that was stupid of . It can wait."
Okay, so he wasn't asking for a transfer. He wasn't planning to R. Brown . "Dan," I said, but he pushed his shower button and as the water stread onto him, he couldn't hear .
As I wondered what he wanted, sothing mad happened - the water kept flowing. I looked from the showerhead to Dan's hand and - eureka! I pressed my button and held it. The water hit and kept hitting . I almost did a jig. The system was bonkers and aggressively anti-user, but right then and there I cared not.
I lathered my hair and rubbed myself with various masculine unguents and held the button in once more.
Bliss!
When Dan finished I said, "Sealbiscuit. You and . Big chat. Yeah? Good. Better tell Henri how to use the shower before he does one of those spontaneous human combustion things."
***
I got dressed and asked Magnus to escort to Sealbiscuit. Once I was in my spot I closed my eyes and tried to calm down. There was a storm in my head to match the one outside but I needed to find so semblance of peace in order to make good decisions.
One thing that often cald down was checking how many experience points I had.
XP balance: 7,054
The Man United ga had been an XP bonanza - I'd earned close to 1,400 - and the Mansfield match we had just played was lucrative, too. It had kicked off late because of the travel chaos caused by Storm Dolly. The high winds, air pressure, the stress of the day and the tension of the match - if they could beat us, Mansfield had a genuine shot at winning the title - had contributed to a dical ergency in the crowd. The match was paused for well over twenty minutes and in that ti I was still awarded XP.
The thought led to so obvious conclusions - why not fake a dical ergency at every ho match? I could increase my XP inco by an easy twenty or thirty percent. I dismissed the idea because it was one, sociopathic, and two, was sure to trigger a visit from Old Nick. I hadn't seen him or the imps for ages and I was absolutely fine with that.
Seven thousand XP. That was enough to buy the Interested Parties perk, which would tell which clubs were interested in my players. That was a good one to have in place in ti for sumr but didn't strike as being the sort of thing you bought in the last few hours of a transfer window.
Attributes 10 was four thousand and 3-4-2-1 was going for five thousand. Both quite desirable but they could wait until I'd seen the February perk offer.
I was much more interested in continuing to buy the cheap perks to remove them from the perk shop. For 300 XP, Manager Stats would put ever more data in my head, while for 500 the average ratings field would get filled in. Player Comparison would let put two player profiles on the sa screen. Not much value for the 630 cost.
1500 would allow to start upgrading Playdar and while I was using that talent quite heavily and to great effect, I was wary of spending all my Man United inco to unlock a perk tree - in my current ntal state I wanted fewer options, not more.
I was leaning towards buying a couple of cheap ones and then targeting the Panopticon tree. For two thousand XP I could inject additional squads into my brain. I would get their current player profiles from anywhere in the world and be able to check their Morale and injury status. I would probably start with the boys under eighteens but we had big assets in the younger groups, too.
If I added the under twelves I would be able to check on Steven Watson and the other four triple-digit PA pipsqueaks. If I then bought 'Full Frontal' I would be able to see any deleterious status effects right from the main page. If I then bought Interested Parties I would be able to see which players were being scouted. There wasn't a whole lot I could do to stop Mr. Watson moving his boy to one of the rseyside clubs if that's what he wanted but I could get the Brig to dig up so dirt on the scout or the academy directors so I could extract a proper fee.
The Panopticon perk could also be extended to cover Saltney, West, and College.
Doing all that felt extrely urgent, but so did adding attributes and formations.
The doors of the bus opened and the lads got on. Dan was at the head of the queue. Keen! His first question didn't put at ease.
"Will we be back in ti for the deadline? Can we still trade players if you're not there?"
"Even with the storm and the delays we should be back by nine. Ten at the latest. The deadline goes to eleven and yeah, I don't absolutely need to be there."
Dan nodded at one of the players who were streaming by. "Isn't it strange that the deadline is a Saturday? I thought they always moved it to the next Monday."
"There are no whatsits," I said. "Strict rules. So years they push it back, sotis they don't. I think no-one could be arsed rearranging it this year because there will be fewer deals with the World Cup coming this sumr. Sothing like that, anyway. I'm happy if it's always the 31st of Jan. I don't have much of a voice yet but when I'm king of the world we will pick a date and stick to it so everyone knows where they stand. The January transfer window can't end on the third of February, for fuck's sake."
Foquita was next in the line. He tried to speak to . "Mister," he said.
"Get fucked," I suggested, jabbing my thumb to the back of the bus.
Foquita tried to use his sad puppy eyes on . "Señor," he said.
"Fuck off, sit down, shut up, stay shutted up."
Foquita sighed. Pascal was behind him and gave him a nudge. They shuffled along the aisle.
Dan said, "How did you learn to be such a good man manager?" He saw that I wasn't in the mood. "Sorry, that was... I'm joking. Bad joke. Sorry."
"It's all right," I said. "It was funny. Maybe don't provoke today, though."
"No."
"Unless you're trying to engineer a move away from the club." No reaction. I rubbed my eyebrows. "Fuck, I didn't even turn my phone on."
Dan watched as I fished it out and held the power button down. "You still turn it off to save battery? But..."
"But it's the new model with good battery life and we can charge it on Sealbiscuit. I know." I rubbed my eyebrows again. "It's habit now. I think turning it off is good for . Turns every match into a digital detox. I shouldn't be wondering who Chip is trying to buy when I'm trying to work out how to play tiki-taka in a fucking tornado." I punched the plastic tray built into the seat in front of .
Dan's eyes widened slightly. "The digital detox is doing wonders for your mindfulness."
I held my hand up and checked for wounds. "Wit that sharp cuts both ways."
He shook his head. "I know. I couldn't help it. The joke was right there. Couldn't stop my mouth."
"I know the feeling."
"I thought Folke Wester was doing the transfers at Bradford."
"He might be choosing them but it's Chip doing the actual deals."
"I reckon it will be Folke."
I scoffed. "Thanks for the great insight into how the world works, mate. It's Chip and I know that for a fact. He's striding around his yacht or he's in the back of the Chip Van making calls, making promises, making the world go round. TJ, my mate from Crawley, has a source who's on the other side of one of the deals; the club and agent are absolutely pulling Chip's pants down. He's trying to sign three players and the three clubs and agents are colluding to drive the fees up and get better conditions."
"How?"
"They've agreed to string him along but not sign anything until the hour before the deadline. The best thing he could do right now is what I would do - cancel the deals, walk away, move onto your second targets. The agents would get back on the phone in minutes, nice and reasonable. Chip's not going to do that. He thinks he's a master of business and can get the better of the sharks and old hands he's dealing with. Here, let's see what's what."
I had a flurry of ssages, mostly from agents offering players. So were from other managers and directors of football. I showed one to Dan.
Coventry City DoF: If you change your mind about Badford, let know!
He looked away briefly. "Do you always write clubs instead of nas? What if that guy moves?"
"I get alerts about that sort of thing. I change the nas, mate. I don't need help managing my contacts list, thanks. Jesus. What else have we got here? Hold on. Heh heh. Check this one out."
TJ: Stevenage have told Chip his latest bid doesn't cut it but they've given him permission to speak to the player and get terms agreed 'in case'. Very clever, that. The more Chip negotiates with the player, the more he's invested in the deal, the more he'll fixate on it.
"Who's that about?"
"That's Gareth Davies, the striker. He's what... thirty-one? Folke is mad about him and he thinks there's a deal to be had. That's why they appealed Chipper's ban even though there's a risk it gets changed from 4 matches to 5. Chip wasn't convinced by Davies at first but now he's into it because he wants to have two Welsh strikers so he can call them the Double Dragons."
"Cool na."
"Of course it's cool, he stole it from . Davies is the first idea he hasn't stolen from , so that's a relief. Have you seen Single WhiteFemale? I'm surprised Chip hasn't copied my haircut."
"Is Davies good?"
"Very good, yeah. It's like buying Foquita but it'll be, what, six or seven hundred thousand quid? For a guy in decline with no resale value? Folke will say it guarantees promotion and it's a decent argunt but as soone working with a tiny budget, the idea makes wince. Ah, one from everyone's third-favourite lawyer."
Gemma: I'm still waiting to hear from Weasel. I have kept MD updated.
"Bad news?" said Dan.
I closed my eyes and went to the transfer news screen, filtering by Reading.
January 30 - Ian Swan - Reading - Chester - 200,000
Nothing since. "Hmm," I said, allowing my lids to open in their own ti. "It's just a ss with Duggers. Everything's a ss. Life is a ss."
"I heard he pissed you off and you flounced out of the eting."
"I don't flounce." I flexed my hand, checking the knuckles for cuts. They stung but there was no need for plasters or an ice pack. "All it is, right, is his agent took the piss. Duggers ca to the next day and we had a proper chat. Like, he's enjoying his football at Reading but he isn't getting paid every month and it's obvious the club's in a downward spiral. The manager is a miracle worker but he's in demand and at so point he's going to ask himself why he's working so hard to keep the club going when the owner is working so hard to destroy it. Duggers likes what we're trying to do and okay, in the best possible scenario he wouldn't be taking a pay cut to join us but he's not stupid and he's heard we're in the career rehabilitation business and that's what he needs. I didn't tell him to bin his agent off because I don't need to get sued but he sohow got the impression that would help his career."
"Boss," chuckled Dan.
"Apropos of nothing I told him about this new law firm that specialises in sports. Woman in charge is called Gemma, I think."
"You can't pretend you're not sure when your actual girlfriend works there too."
"Does she? I'm not one of those overbearing boyfriends, Dan. As long as Emma is happy and healthy she can do what she wants."
"So Gemma's helping Duggers sack his agent so he can co to Chester?"
"No. Gemma's helping Duggers sack his agent. What happens next is completely unrelated. As it happens, there is a fair chance we might sign him."
"I see."
"Gemma did everything by the book, went through Duggers' contracts and all that. She thinks Weasel - that's the agent - doesn't have a leg to stand on but MD doesn't want to get Chester involved in any disputes. Gemma's trying to get Weasel to sign so docunt saying he understands he no longer represents Duggers and waives his right to be a whiny little bitch about what happens in the rest of his career."
"So of these legal terms are flying over my head."
"Weasel would get a sweet little pay off, which is more than he's owed. What's going to happen is that Ruth will take Duggers as a client - after a discreet interval - but will he be a Chester player? The odds aren't good right now."
"He could join in sumr."
I pulled a face. "It's kind of now or never. Today's the last day for all this transfer nonsense to go down and tomorrow a lot of unhappy players are going to wake up and realise they're stuck at shitty clubs for the next five months. Lots of good players have contracts that expire this sumr and from tomorrow I'm going to try to sign them up. I like to get my business done early and signing three or four players in February would be pretty fucking early."
"What about the Phwoar Room?"
"I've got so reputation now and there are hundreds of players with expiring contracts who would join us. I could get next season's Lee H wrapped up next week. Do you know what I an? We're evolving. Tis change."
Tis change, players leave. Would Dan be at the head of the queue? Was that why I was talking so openly? So sort of attempt to reel him back in?
The bus driver checked with Vimsy and Peter and with a satisfying little noise, Sealbiscuit whirred into life. We were on our way ho.
My phone vibrated - I had an incoming video call from Camila. I tutted, sighed, sat up straight, and hit the green icon.
***
"Max," she said, and that beautiful voice of hers cald down by about six percent. She was dressed simply and was on a sofa next to Foquita's mother, who was fussing with her jewellery. "What is happening? Foquita is very unhappy. You shouted at him and replaced him and he doesn't know why."
I thought about making a joke but didn't have the energy. I nodded my head back towards the stadium. "We just played Mansfield. It's a town in Nottinghamshire. They're second in the league, really good team." They had an average CA of 89. My eleven had 85. "There's a storm and it's crazy windy. We have a young player in goal and he conceded two goals that looked easy but honestly I don't know if anyone would have saved them. It's an impossible job being a goalkeeper in such conditions. When the second goal went in, Foquita showed how unhappy he was by throwing his arms around, gesticulating, yelling."
"He should be happy when his teammates make a mistake?"
"No, he should be pissed but he should understand the context and he should never, ever, throw a fucking tantrum about one of my players but especially not one of my young players. If he's not happy with his teammates he needs to direct his anger at and never, ever at them. It's my job to get a squad together, my job to pick the team. If Foquita wants to shout at soone he can co to , not a seventeen-year-old. It's not Banksy's fault he's in the team, is it?"
"I see."
"I don't like Foquita's vibe today. He's scored a few goals and he thinks he's better than us, too good for Chester, too good to be playing alongside young players? Like he's the perfect player already? Well he's fucking not. He made more mistakes than Banksy today but the difference is his mistakes don't lead to oppo goals and no-one throws a tantrum when Foquita can't control a fucking simple ball to feet. My job was to get him in the shop window for his next move and I've done that. If he thinks he can be a prima donna around here he can fuck off. That position is occupied."
Camila smiled. "Max, let us be calm. I will talk to Foquita and perhaps we can discuss it together."
"I'm not talking to him until he apologises to Banksy."
Camila translated for Foquita's mum; she muttered sothing as she made the sign of the cross. "I will talk to him."
She hung up.
"She's lovely," said Dan. "Do you rember that dress?"
"No," I said. "I don't rember the silver dress she wore at the Christmas party and I definitely don't think about it all the ti while watching goalies pump long balls that catch in the wind and they have to fucking save their own clearances."
"Did you like the art?"
What a question! I had no clue where Dan was going. "Yeah. It was funny and clever. Henri's mind is an autumnal orchard - but don't eat the fruit."
Dan's weight moved forward as though he was trying to gee himself up to get to the fucking point. "If we get into Europe and play against Bilbao can we go a day early and visit the Guggenheim?"
"We would miss a day of training. It's not what serious teams do."
"So can we?"
"Yeah, why not?"
Dan nodded. "Ryan and Jackie were telling how they've been to loads of places to play football but they couldn't hardly tell you anything about those cities because it was just get in, get out."
"Have you seen Master and Commander?"
Dan frowned as he tried to summon a mory of such a film. "No."
"Watch it with Youngster if you want so relationship points with him. It's about a warship in the olden days. The captain of the ship is best mates with the ship's doctor. The doctor's always nagging him about popping to the Galapagos Islands. The captain's like dude, we're at war! The doctor goes, but you promised! The doctor gets injured and the captain's like fuck this war, I'm keeping my promise to my mate. They rock up to the islands and the doctor gets to motor about looking at frogs or whatever. Suddenly he sees the enemy ship is parked round the corner. He's like man, can't I just sit here and watch this stick insect in peace? He goes back to tell the captain and they do another action set piece."
Dan processed all that. "You're saying we can go to a museum... unless we can't."
"Pretty much, yeah. I don't want to be one of those dudes who has been to Ro and never eaten a proper local pizza. But I also don't want to go all that way and lose. I hear," I said, conspiratorially, "they don't even have stuffed crusts there. What the fuck!"
Dan smiled but just as I thought we were getting closer to the heart of the matter, he showed just what an elusive player he could be. "What did you talk to Pedro Porto about?"
I regarded Dan, but he didn't seem to be trying to prise sensitive information out of or anything like that. "I gave him so advice and he was very appreciative."
Dan laughed way too hard at that. "Okay, if you don't want to talk about it - "
"There's not much to say. We took his nice wine upstairs and he t Emma and her cousins. Wee Bonnie has t gobby Mancunians before but she has never t a Portuguese superstar. I get so play from won because I'm, like, the conductor of this orchestra." I circled my finger around. "Imagine that tis ten in the stadium and tis a million on social dia and that's the difference in status between and him."
"Isn't she, like, fourteen?"
"Oh, I wasn't talking about Wee Bonnie. Was more thinking about this waitress. I was trying to smoulder at her but Pedro said can I ask you for a screw and she just lted." I laughed. "So unfair. I'm not even sure if he said the wrong word on purpose. Yeah he's just a nice guy and I explained the pressing circle to him. He was absolutely fascinated, said it was one of the craziest things he's ever seen but there was a certain logic to it. I said, 'Sha you don't have the balls to try it for yourself.' He didn't like that."
Dan got excited. "He did it, though! Against Newcastle!"
I laughed. "Yeah and it worked. Turner Blindeye had set his players to press the left-sided centre back so Pedro simply moved him into the middle. Newcastle's players rushed him and United played wide. Two-nil up at half ti before Turner fixed his mistake."
"The TV people were calling Porto a genius. I was getting really worked up. It's Max Best who's the genius!"
I was intrigued by the idea of Dan Badford getting worked up. I'd never seen it. "Good artists copy, great artists steal. I didn't invent the wheel thing - I saw it in one of those YouTube compilations called sothing like 'The Eight Maddest Monts in Football'. I'll take so credit that I was able to work out what the manager was trying to achieve. And I'll take credit for working out that it's stupid to set a specific player as a pressing trigger if you can't undo it quickly. It's too easy to exploit. I swear these managers only do things because everyone else is doing it."
"Herd ntality."
My phone pinged a couple of tis in quick succession.
TJ: The agents of this country have a new nickna for Chip Star.
: Go on, what?
TJ: Father Chipmas. He's always giving out gifts. His latest negotiation went like this. Player's agent tells his client he's going to ask for five grand a week because they're dropping down a division. Chip's opening offer... six grand a week! Agent has balls of steel because instead of biting Chip's hand off, he's saying yeah not sure there are other clubs interested.
: When agents are an to , that's tragedy. When they do it to Chip, that's cody.
TJ: I'm running out of popcorn. I love transfer deadline day.
The next one was an update about Duggers.
Gemma: Not looking good. I think I should switch my efforts to convincing MD that The Wall will stand between the club and Weasel. What do you think?
I pulled at my lip for a while. Adding to MD's stress wasn't good for either of us and there was still ti to bring a left-footed midfielder on loan. Or I could work around the gap in the squad. Josh Owens hadn't played well at left midfield today, but he was getting better every week.
Dan said, "I read that Napoleon used to divide a paper in two and write the pros on one side and the cons on another."
"Are you helping with my decision-making process?"
Dan shrugged.
I pulled a face but discussing decisions usually led to better outcos. Why not explain it to Dan? "Okay, first thing. Does the squad need a left mid? We have formations that don't use one and we have Pascal, Josh, Magnus, and Wibbers who can play there. And ."
"You haven't played for ages," said Dan.
I ignored that. Magnus was dubious about my injury and had asked not to resu full training. The heel didn't feel quite right but I would get a scan in the coming week and take it from there. "So we don't need need need a left mid but I want one and if we can get him now we can build him up for six months and really attack next season. We're short-ish at centre back but we can manage with what we've got. There are good players with contracts winding down this sumr. Why pay a fee now when I can get them for free if I wait? Long story short, I want a left-mid but I'm not desperate. The benefit cos next season. What about Duggers specifically? Pro: He's my kind of player. He's dreamy. He takes set pieces and he's left-footed so if we've got Ryan and Charlie standing over a ball, the goalie doesn't know what's coming. He's young enough to improve and we would make a big profit on him. He is willing to co and willing to take a pay cut. Cons: His wife is... yeah. His agent is a dick."
"But he sacked his agent."
"Yes, true."
"So he's free to do what he wants."
"If we sign him the agent might say, whoa! I set up that deal! Pay for setting up that deal! Or whatever."
"It doesn't sound like a problem. He's cancelled. As Foquita would say: bye-bye."
"There's a thing called reputation risk. MD talks about it more and more because we're on TV and we're getting all kinds of exposure. Think about the BBC buying Chesterness and think about all the companies who want to sponsor us. They love us because we're exciting but wholeso. Now imagine big headlines about chaos and dirty dealing at Chester. Quotes from Weasel like 'Max Best stole my player' and all kinds of guff like that. You might think yeah who cares, we need that player. Okay but it could be the BBC are fifty-fifty about buying season two and so b-boys are fifty-fifty about leasing a hospitality box and those headlines are the thing that shuts it down. Could cost us a million pounds. It probably won't and it's possible it could work the other way and the constant drama and exposure works for us but you have to consider things like that. MD thinks about it all the ti. Ironically that helps when it cos to gambling sponsors and crypto crap. I said I don't want it and he went okay then."
"You're not into crypto?"
"There are so Bitcoin guys who own football teams and they talk a lot of sense. One guy has an article on the club's website called Why You Shouldn't Buy Bitcoin. I like that. He's not trying to scam his fans into buying sothing they don't understand and he wants Bitcoin to beco a dium of exchange. You know, instead of pounds and dollars. That part's fine but when you have clubs promoting crypto as an investnt, that gets shady very quickly. Do a search for John Terry NFT to see how much money people lost piling into that whole ss. Or I can save you a click - they lost 99%. I don't want tech bros telling this club's fans they aren't true fans unless they buy fucking nonsense from us. I know Henri dabbles in crypto but that's as part of a whole portfolio. He isn't taking financial advice from John Terry and Paris Hilton. Why are we talking about this?"
"I don't know." We stared at each other, confused. Dan said, "Charlie Dugdale?"
"I'll buy him if MD feels comfortable but if he doesn't, that's fine. Er... Charlie is no more than five percent of our portfolio. The value of Charlie Dugdale may go down as well as up. Charlie Dugdale's past performance is no guarantee of future returns. Do not buy more Charlie Dugdales than you can afford to lose."
"I put money into Henri's syndicate. Is that safe?"
"Which one?"
"He's got more than one?"
"Yeah. He's got one for players at Saltney and another funding Chester's new pitch at Ellesre Port."
Dan nodded wisely. "That one's his mum."
"What?"
Dan closed his eyes. "Can you pretend I didn't say that?"
"Um... sure. I'll pretend my head didn't just explode. I can do that."
"I'm in the Saltney Syndicate. You bought so players but we don't know much about them except they're all seventeen."
"Ah, no, those are in the northern powerhouse project - that's nothing to do with Henri, that's my Welsh thing. I'm scouting the under seventeens and under elevens first and I'm building two pretty sweet sides already." For the under elevens I'd decided the floor would be PA 100. It was harder with the older boys because the best ones had mostly been scouted. If I could build an under-eighteen squad where everyone was at least PA 75, that would be aweso. "Saltney got Vincent and Tockers and we signed three lads for the first team. One's twenty, two are nineteen. They've co from the National League and National League North. They bulk up the squad and have so potential to grow. Good investnts." Those three were the low-hanging fruit - guys with League Two PA I could buy cheap and who lived within an hour of Saltney.
This story originates from . Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"I feel sorry for Tockers."
"Why?"
"He's just co from the beach in Brazil, landed in north Wales, he's not in the team and the weather's foul."
"They don't have beaches where he's from. Incredibly, so of Brazil is inland."
Dan half-smiled. "You know what I an."
"I think he's okay," I said. If I added Saltney's n's first team to the Panopticon, I would know for sure. "He's hanging out with Henri and Luisa and he's getting to know Foquita and Pascal and so on. He's not first pick but he's getting so minutes as a professional footballer. That goes a long way, doesn't it? And the weather can't stay this shit. Let know if you ever see him sobbing in the dressing room."
"I ain't no snitch. Can I ask another question?"
I sighed. "Is it going to be the question that all this is about? Or do you still need to build up to that?"
He blushed slightly and mumbled, "Still need to build up to that."
"Ask away, Dan. Just don't ask for a transfer."
He blushed even deeper and took a minute to compose himself. Busted! Eventually, he said, "After the United match we did loads of defensive work and I thought that was really strange. Not your style. It was good, don't get wrong, much more interesting than - " He stopped. He was going to say 'more interesting than when Vimsy does it'. Peter's drills combined shape work with having the ball so it was thousands of tis more enjoyable than Vimsy's old-school thods.
"I tried to get Peter to co and join us," I said.
Dan's eyes widened. "Instead of Sandra?"
"No, in addition. I an, he'd be a coach." I decided not to ntion I wanted Peter as a player.
"Why would he leave Bayern to be a coach here?"
"He wouldn't," I said. "Had to try though, didn't I?" I scrunched up my face as I rembered the conversation we'd had. "He said he was flattered but he couldn't accept my offer. He said he had got what he ca for and he was grateful. I think I gave him enough of a kick up the arse to make him want to be a manager himself. He'll go back to Bayern in a few days and he'll finish the season but he'll be looking out for job openings. That's what I think, anyway. All I know is I realised he was leaving, proper leaving, so I thought fuck it, let's use him while we've got him."
"Oh. It wasn't because we were playing Chesterfield."
I laughed - a big one. "What? We play Man United and train as normal but then I wake up in a cold sweat at the thought of Chesterfield? What are you on?"
He grinned. "It makes sense that it was about Peter. We couldn't quite get our heads around it. Like I didn't think we were that bad against United."
"I'm fairly happy with the defence. We've progressed, haven't we? Christian and Zach are one of the best partnerships in the league." I closed my eyes and tried to rember the Chesterfield ga. "I enjoyed that match. It's a banana skin, isn't it, the ga after a big ga. You've put so much psychic energy into the big one you don't even know who's coming next. It's normal for standards to slip but no, we were very professional. Solid defence, control of midfield, two goals from Dazza, up to seventh in the league. Very nice. Professional. And a big win for the all-weather pitches, yeah? This ti last year we could barely train. Now we're squeezing every bit of quality out of you mugs."
"I liked the Barrow match," said Dan. "One-nil and their shithousery didn't bother us. Clean sheet, solid, Foquita with the winner, and Bradford lost. It was that feeling like last season. We were reeling them in. It's exhilarating."
Dan was fascinating. Most footballers, even the smart ones, didn't throw long words around. "It was a good win, yeah. I'm starting to hate going to Barrow. The roads are shit. Hang on." I read a fairly long text from TJ and replied thanking him for keeping in the loop. "Okay this is interesting. Davies is Bradford's top target and his club have rejected four bids already today. Either Chip doesn't realise he looks like a fool or he doesn't care. Apparently Bradford are also bidding for a left back and right back. That's interesting because on paper, Carl is the weak link in the team. Credit to Folke for spotting that." Another text ca that I devoured. "Fascinating. I'm sure Chip would overpay for these players if he could but it has leaked that he genuinely has one point five million and not a di more, so the three clubs that were colluding are now competing. If Chip overpays for Gareth Davies, that's less money for the other clubs. They're all rushing to get their deals done."
"It's like when pirates turn on each other."
"Yeah. It happens in the hit TV show The Traitors. The traitors would pretty much always win if they genuinely worked as a team but around episode six they turn on each other. Great TV, questionable strategy. If Chip's got a limit then it makes sense to maximise your slice of the pie. I think it's called rcantilism."
I replied to a few texts while Dan got his own phone out. After a while he said, "The theory of rcantilism posits that there is a fixed amount of wealth in the world and thus every trade has winners or losers. Do you believe that?"
"No. You can grow the pie and make both sides richer. It's idiotic to ignore the last thousand years of history when forming your trade policies."
Dan put his phone away and I sensed he was very, very close to asking the real question. "Do you think Ian Evans talks to his players about art, squad-building, Napoleon, and trade?"
The idea was amusing, to say the least, but I got a call from Sandra.
"Hi, boss!" she said. "What's the latest?"
I frowned. "It's not February yet. You're off work."
"I'm back tomorrow!"
"Aiden will batter if I ss up your maternity leave."
She tutted. "Max, it's over. I'm back. Talk to ."
"No. Tomorrow ans tomorrow."
She let out a kind of a wail. "On Christmas Eve, little baby Lane-Beeks gets to unwrap one present. You said! This is my Christmas Eve, Max! Give one present."
I couldn't argue with that. "Two more clubs got in touch about Dan," I said, which provoked another weird reaction from the man in question. "How much should I sell him for?"
"Where is he now? Silver? Bronze?"
Dan was CA 63 which in my League Two rankings was... "Bronze," I mumbled, turning away from him. Gossiping about Bradford was one thing; introducing my players to my internal ranking system was not smart. "Silver by the end of the season for sure."
"Two hundred thousand?" she said, plucking a figure out of the air. To be fair, Dan was virtually impossible to price properly because I didn't know what his ceiling was. His PA was minus one. In my years of scouting I had spotted a total of five players with negative PAs. I had two of the five.
"Yeah," I said, turning back so that Dan could hear. "It's ludicrous, isn't it? He demolished Newcastle and Man United single-handed. Not for sale. Okay bye."
"No," said Sandra. "That's not my Christmas present. Co on." I smiled and told her the latest about Charlie Dugdale and what was going on at Bradford. "And what's the latest with Foquita? Did you kiss and make up yet?"
"Dan," I said. "What's Fuckwitta doing?"
Dan turned around and rose the exact sa way as Wee Bonnie. "He's on his phone. Video call. Getting salty with Caral."
"Go and punch him in the dick and yell 'team spirit, learn it.'"
"Do no such thing," Sandra shouted down the phone. I heard Aiden complaining in the background. Sandra said sothing to and hung up.
Dan faced the front again and fussed with the denim around his knees. Maybe that was how his clothes ended up with rips - his jeans weren't designed like that but were the result of him worrying away the fabric. "Why didn't we use Relationism against Gillingham?"
I shook my head. Another complete swerve of the topic but I was getting the sense that everything he was asking was connected, even though it didn't seem possible. "Why are you asking about Gillingham? Why not Barrow?"
We had used Relationism in the FA Youth Cup Fourth Round against Port Vale. The next first team match was Barrow.
"Barrow are a handful and their pitch was in a state. It makes sense you wouldn't use it against them. But Gillingham are weak, you said, and the pitch at the Deva was decent. If not then, when? Weren't you happy with the Youth Cup?"
***
On Wednesday, January 14, three days after playing at Old Trafford, I used full-blown Relationism for the second ti.
3 R Welsh were back on the league treadmill, playing against another army unit in their gaff. 3R's Morale was quite low which I found out was because they hadn't got so new kit they'd been promised. Army kit, not football kit. Not for the first ti I was thankful that the universe hadn't put in Dylan's shoes; I would hate army life more than the call centre.
I was pretty wiped out from all the effort I had put into the United match but now that we were out of the FA Cup I actually felt a lot more ntally stable. One branch of potential fixtures had been pruned and there was much more certainty about the rest of our season. If the Relationism module turned 3R's match into an insane Candy Crush fantasy, this was the perfect ti and setting; I would be able to deal with it and no-one was watching.
"Lads, I want to do Bestball from the start and do the whole ninety. Is that okay with you?"
"Yes," said Dylan, answering for everyone.
"That was easy. Top."
Pascal ward them up and I encountered an all-new curse screen. It felt like sothing that should have co from Henri's head, not mine. The screen was a simple cold-blue rectangle with two words on it.
Mood: Introspective.
That stayed in place for about eight seconds - maybe the imps had designed the showers at Mansfield - before I got the Relationism screen.
The match kicked off and while I was dreading all kinds of mad colours and ters filling up giving hits of dopamine, it didn't pan out like that.
Everything was vaguely blue, including the player icons in the mini-map. After the usual start, where both teams lined up in 4-4-2, my guys drifted to form the blob and played short passes to each other. As they did, their icons changed colour, becoming redder.
Fatso was the heart of the team and got on the ball the most. His icon turned the reddest and he was involved in the most one-twos. Instead of the mad, in-your-face excess of the Youth Cup match, this ti there was only one ter. It filled very, very slowly - possibly because 3R weren't doing flicks, tricks, skills, nutgs, or even many rivers.
When the ter did fill, which took 14 minutes, I popped it and got a pleasant tingling sensation in my ears and neck. One of the icons turned pure yellow. My attention was drawn to the player it represented - Hot Rod. I saw his Morale was abysmal and in the next break, subbed him off. It was rolling subs; he could return after our chat.
"Mate," I said. "You all right?"
"Yes, Max."
"You're not your usual self. Talk to ."
He bent and touched his toes. He straightened. "Not having the best ti, Max. Work's shit, things aren't going well with my girlfriend."
I nodded a few tis. "Do you want to sit this one out?"
His eyes darted around. The answer was obviously yes. "We've only got two subs. The lads need ."
I spread my arms wide. "What's the point having a superstar manager if he can't win without one player?" My arrogance made Hot Rod smile. I continued. "I play shit when my head's not right; everyone does. It's just a ga. Gas are supposed to be fun, yeah?" Hot Rod's smile ca back for another unscheduled public appearance. Wee Bonnie was a master motivator!
"This is fun, Max. Boss. It's... It's a good distraction. Sorry for not playing well."
He was on 5 out of 10 but low ratings were pretty normal with the army players. "I don't think it's that," I mused, as I tried to work out what was going on. This was 'introspection mode', was it? Was I introspective or was it the players? Or did the curse want us to get introspective? "You're playing okay but you're not in the blob, you're in your head. You're sowhere else. Focus on the ball and your mates, see if you can get into the flow. Or not. Whatever! But if you want to fuck off down the pub, we'll co and pick you up when we're done."
"Doing dry January boss." He looked out at the pitch. "Can I go back on?"
I sent him back out and almost imdiately, his match rating increased and his icon got redder. The general energy levels rose, it felt to , and the bar filled up faster. It took about ten minutes and when I popped it, two of the icons flashed black.
I smiled. This was weird but enjoyable. A tiny mystery!
It didn't take long to 'solve' this one.
The way I asked 3 R to form the blob was that one player should stand outside it in a defensive pose. That guy was the safety net for when we lost the ball and the oppo launched a fast counter. The blob had been trained to storm back as fast as they could as soon as there was danger and it was the outsider's job to buy us enough ti to get into position. We sotis played the ball back to this person but they were very much on the fringes.
The second who had flashed was playing on the opposite side to the blob, waiting for a big diag. He was the player most likely to score but until then his job involved a lot of sprints into the box, jogging back onside, making another run. Lonely work. Soone like Pascal loved that kind of role but many others didn't.
I didn't have much control over the players but I could decide who did the 'outside' roles. These two guys clearly felt disconnected from the rest of the team. I swapped them around and once they joined the blob, their cold blue icons started to warm up.
"That's working," said Pascal. "That surprises ."
"Because they aren't suited to those positions?"
"Yes."
"I forgot sothing I learned in Brazil. They talk about energy there. Passing the ball is like sharing energy with your mate. Those two guys were on the outside not getting any energy. We have to rotate and keep people involved. Don't let them get cold."
"Cold! Yes, the match felt cold. It is warming up now."
That's what the icons were telling . I experinted with how frequently to rotate the players. Not so much that it beca a carousel, but not so little that players got cold. At a certain point, the icons of all the players ward up enough to trigger a hidden event. The mini-map glowed with a warm light and I was awarded a 'Five Minute Bench Boost' token. I broke the habit of a lifeti and used it almost straight away - after subbing a few players off and on for a tactical chat, of course.
By half ti the mood was much improved. We were winning two-nil and happily chatting away. Pascal's enthusiasm was the icing on the cake and when Dylan roared, "Co on Welsh!" the rest responded like they ant it.
At the start of the second half, the new screen appeared again. My vision turned pink and two words appeared.
Mood: Determined.
***
"Was I happy with the Youth Cup," I repeated, to buy myself so ti. "What was your experience of the West Ham match? The end, I an."
Dan squashed his features up as he attempted to put the feeling into words. "A bit mad. Wild. Wild abandon!"
"You're too young for wild abandon, mate."
"Youth is wasted on the young," he said. He made unusually strong eye contact with . "I felt I had all the energy in the world and I could have run for days. The more we passed to each other the more intense it got and you were laughing your head off like you were on the pitch with us and you could feel it and we were going yeah this is the new football we're pioneers we're astronauts we're invincible. I did so reading about mass hysteria and that's what it felt like."
"You're such an interesting guy, Dan."
"Ditto," he said, repeating one of my current favourite phrases. "But at Port Vale it didn't feel the sa and you only wanted us to do it for the first half. I was wondering if we'd done it wrong."
"I think against West Ham we were all hyper for it, weren't we? It was a big explosion after a long wait. Plus we had absolutely battered West Ham so our mood was already just... off the scale. Then against Vale there was a fair chunk of apprehension along with the excitent. You might say the mood was nervous apprehension."
"Yes!" cried Dan. "That's exactly how I felt!"
Nervous apprehension was the 'mood' screen text but I still didn't know if it referred to or the players. If I was happy but the players were sad, which would it choose? "We are so much better than Port Vale it didn't really matter how we approached the ga. My plan was always to do Relationism for the first half." The feedback loop that day was all about helping players beco less anxious. I did it by asking them to do fewer tricks, gs, and skills, and keep things simple. "You guys were all focused on doing flicks and shit, weren't you?"
"Yeah because you were so fire when we did madnesses against West Ham, we thought we had to keep doing that."
As I had eased them into a more confident state, the curse had rewarded with mini-boosts. "I helped you calm down and you were able to get into the flow."
"Yes. Wibbers scoring a first half hat trick helped, too."
"Yeah, I bet. To answer your question, I was delighted with how you played against Port Vale. They're a League One side and it's not actually normal that a club like us blows past them. I expect it, you expect it, but that doesn't an we shouldn't take a mont to be proud. Mostly I stopped doing it against Vale because it was funny."
"How?"
I adjusted on my seat. This was the part of the bus ride when I didn't want anyone next to ; I had wanderlust. Quick tour of the bus, co back and spread out. "Right, so, think of us from Vale's point of view. Against West Ham we finished with ten minutes of utter slaps. Port Vale were thinking we would do the sa again - ten minutes at the end to run down the clock. Instead we did it for the first half - the entire half. In the break they're coming up with mad sches and plans for how to defend it. They made substitutions and probably talked of nothing apart from how to defend the blob."
"But second half - there's no blob."
"Right. As much as I want to learn to use Relationism, I don't want to overuse it because there are a lot of smart people in this ga. They will develop counterasures. Or maybe not - every ga with it seems to be different. The technical and tactical side is pretty straightforward so I think it's all about managing emotions and getting people into the flow. Yeah, look, when we get into the blob it's undeniably cool and I'm relieved it isn't just a sugar rush. It could be a valid way of playing in certain matches. I think what's supposed to happen in a typical ga is that you lot start in so state and we have to work through it and get more positive and at the very end we will have that explosion of togetherness we had against West Ham. Sothing like that, I think. I know one thing - the feeling with 3R and our eighteens is totally different. There's sothing about you that Relationism absolutely loves."
"How would you defend against it?"
"Good question. I'll tell you when soone does it to us."
"Will we do it against Everton?"
"That will be like West Ham. If we're well ahead near the end, why not? Text from the lawyer. One sec."
Gemma: Weasel isn't playing nice.
: Okay, fuck him. The guy always overreaches. He gets nothing. Tell Duggers he's staying at Reading and we'll get him a good move in the sumr.
Gemma: Whoa! My doomsday clock says we have about an hour before we go nuclear.
: Nope. I have exploded.
Gemma: One hour. Let do my thing.
: Fine.
Gemma: You've got a nickna with these agents, you know.
: I know. Starboy.
Gemma: Scrooge MaxDuck.
I must have grinned as I put my phone away because Dan was grinning, too. "Was it awkward when you fessed up how you fancy Emma's best mate?"
"Don't rember doing that."
"It was just before or just after you put Julie McKay on a slab."
"Where do you get these phrases? What is going on?"
"Seriously, though. Wasn't that awkward?"
"I thought it would be, yeah. I asked to talk to her at the next training sesh and I started to apologise but she said no need. I was like yeah but there is. She said it was all good and the girls had been teasing her about it."
"That doesn't sound good."
"I know but she liked it because she's always thought everyone was being off with her because her boyfriend was pri suspect in my murder and the teasing was when she knew she was really in the group."
"That's... quite strange."
"She said that Henri had apologised and explained it anyway. He thought I would say the person with the worst partner was Youngster and we would all have a laugh at ghan, who can take it. He didn't expect to be so explosive. Yeah. Then I told her I was taking the Saltney won's team more seriously and I was going to ask her to join it in the sumr but I didn't want her to think it was a punishnt or anything like that and if she wanted I would make so calls to other clubs because she could easily be the main striker for most of the teams we were playing."
"But not for Chester."
"Have you seen Kit?"
"Yeah," he said, with a gormless look on his face. He realised how he sounded and sat up. "She's very gifted."
I made a tiny scoffing noise. "Julie was happy to know I wanted her on my personal team and she likes the idea of being with her mates. I told her if it turns into Chester B it's going to get crazy good crazy fast but there's no money in it. She's got ti to think about it."
"You like the idea of your forr players being around."
"In normal tis, Julie would be Chester's starting striker for the next ten years."
"These are not normal tis."
"No," I agreed. I sighed. "What's Foquita doing?"
"He's in the aisle and Pascal, Henri, and Zach are talking to him. It looks quite intense. Henri's putting him on blast."
"Sneak up behind Foquita and kick him in the back of the knee. When he falls, smack his head against the nearest armrest and say sothing aweso."
TJ: Bradford deals incoming. Stand by.
"Oh, shit," I said. "Here we go. Er, distract . Wait, you wanted sothing. We've talked around it enough, right? Now's a good ti to punch in the dick."
"It's not... Okay but we won the two gas after United. The first team did. And the eighteens won in the Youth Cup so everything was going great. Then we played Gillingham and that was going fine. Two-nil up but Cole gives a shit back pass, Sticky gives away a penalty and that's his second yellow card. We're down to ten, Banksy's first job is to pick the ball out of the net. We defend well but they score with the last kick of the ga."
"Slap in the face."
"Two-all and even worse, Sticky's got a one-match ban. You've agreed to sign a goalie but he won't join until after the Vans Trophy semi-final. No big deal because he's only a backup. Except he plays and breaks his finger."
I got the feeling Dan was, in his own way, as angry with life as Foquita was, he just had a more subtle way of showing it. I found myself defending Swanny. "While saving two pens in the shoot-out."
"Right. But you sign him even though he's injured."
"He's only out for six weeks. It's minor. Even the insurance company doesn't give a shit."
"But we didn't have a senior goalie for the big ga against Mansfield! One of our title rivals."
"What do you want to do? Loan a goalie for one match?"
"Would you have done it against Bradford?"
"Don't know. Maybe."
"Why did you let Eddie go before Cole is really ready?"
"It was his last chance to get proper paid. Look, it's mad luck, isn't it? You could play Soccer Supremo for a hundred years and nothing like this would happen. Cole plays that pass to Sticky's strong foot a hundred tis out of a hundred and on a decent surface Sticky blasts it safely into row Z. I'm not mad at them for one loose pass and for the shit pitches they have to play on. Gillingham are a good team. They'll have a go at anyone who goes down to ten n. And by the way, today's ga was a complete aberration. I was there on the touchline getting royally drenched thinking should I bring myself on? Okay I'm better than the Mansfield players but what would I actually do? Kick the ball really high and see where the wind blows it? We've had freak events. You can't base your transfer strategy for the next five years around a bit of wind or a broken finger. Swanny's a great signing for this club. The timing's unfortunate but shit happens."
"Okay but when you et him, Swanny is at Reading and you tell him he can stay for the cup because you think it's the right thing and he breaks his finger but you sign him anyway because you think it's the right thing. And because you did the right thing we've got a teenager in goal and a teenage goalie on the bench. Oh, and your star striker is in a huff because we let in two basic goals. This isn't my big question but would you do it again?"
"Would I let Eddie go a bit earlier than is ideal for but is perfect for him? Would I let Swanny stay at Reading to help his manager out? I an... yes. You can say it has cost us four points but... in five years we'll look back at this last couple of weeks and say these were Banksy's first league minutes and this was what set him on his path to stardom."
"We're out of the playoff places."
I was getting wound up by the negativity. "And how does that make you feel?"
"I don't really care. I trust you."
That deflated my rapidly-growing balloon. "So... I don't really know what we're..."
"I think I just want to say that I'm really happy to be at a club that does the right thing."
You know when a magician pulls a tablecloth and there's loads of glasses and cutlery that is supposed to stay perfectly still? Dan was the magician and I was a quite expensive set of wine glasses. I wobbled and crashed. "You are?"
"Do you rember when you scouted ?"
"Yes. Das Tournant. Beth wrote an article about it. I read it about 40 tis and convinced myself I was a wizard. I'm not. I'm fumbling around in the dark sa as anyone else."
"What made you think I was good?"
"That fact that you're good."
"But we did those little matches against the Chester lot and it was like you wanted them to lose and at the end there was this mad delay before you ran around whooping."
"I don't whoop."
"What was that all about?"
"Sotis things aren't about anything. Sotis I eat too much cheese and have to burn off the energy."
"You don't want to say. That's fine. It'll bug forever but that's fine." He paused and clicked one of his knuckles. "Did you know I got scouted before?"
"No. That's hard to believe. Not that I doubt you. What I'm saying is that even a dinosaur would snap you up. You have the x-factor."
He dipped his head and - I think - flushed with pleasure. "It was this older guy. Like forty-five or sothing mad."
"Mad."
"He liked the look of . Told my dad. Ca round for tea."
"Which club was he?"
"Stoke City."
"Big club."
"Yeah. Dad was chuffed and the guy was raving about . We had a long talk and I was really excited but nervous."
"Nervous Apprehension."
He laughed. "Nervous Apprehension: The Dan Badford Story."
I shook my head. "Your book would be called It's Badford Not Bradford."
He rocked his head back. "Yeah. So the Stoke guy seems to be doing well, I thought, but my mum gets up and asks my dad to help her with the biscuits."
I smiled. "That sounds like sothing I've seen."
"No, boss. Sorry but no. Not in my house. Mum can carry a plate of biscuits, do you know what I an? Dad got up and they went to the kitchen and I was like what the actual crap is happening here? It was one of the strangest monts in my life. Dad cos back almost instantly with the biscuits and mum makes more teas. When she cos in, dad says, I think we've heard enough to give Stoke City first refusal on Dan. You can tell your bosses you've wrapped it up. Which I thought was a strange thing to focus on and a big jump because they hadn't talked about money or the details or anything and my dad would normally have been all over those things."
"Yeah," I mused. Clearly Dan's parents had gone to the kitchen for a rapid strategy session. The plan was to tell the scout it was a done deal. Why?
Dan continued. "It all happened so fast but at the ti it was agonisingly slow. I was like okay where are my boots, my tracksuits, what's my email address at Stoke City, when do I get PhotoShopped into the team photo?"
"Ha. You little shit."
He dipped his head, acknowledging his little shitness. "The scout relaxed and mum took over. Just chats, you know. Easy chat over tea and biccies. Not even the best china or anything. She switched him off."
"Hmm," I said. I was starting to get the shape of the story.
"What happens next is a slow-motion dismantling of this scout. Mum peels his layers off one by one and suddenly he's giving us the real inside track on life as a footballer. He was a player at Sheffield United and Rotherham and other clubs and his career was non-stop tornt. He got screwed over again and again but he couldn't shift the bug and he kept in the industry even though he hated it. Later my mum said he was like a bone and football was the dog that was gnawing at him. We hear about the bullies and the liars and the fantasists and it's scary how little self-awareness he has. He despises football. Everything about him is a warning. He leaves and and my parents spend a few days looking into the dark side of football and it's all gambling, addiction, depression, bankruptcy. I read about players who were bullied and ostracised because they wanted to go to galleries instead of pubs, because they like indie bands, because they know a few long words."
"Because they wear big puffy jackets and jeans with holes in."
Dan scoffed. "We all decide, yeah nah."
"Yeah nah," I repeated. "Youngster was pretty similar."
"We agreed that I would go to the trial and fluff my lines so that the scout wouldn't get in trouble."
"That's decent of you."
"Yeah, well, we liked the man. Dad decided that faking injury was the way to go. If they thought I could be kicked out of a match, they wouldn't care how good I was. And he was right. They said they'd be in touch and they never did. Bosh. I was free. Then you turned up."
Knowing the end of the story got slightly emotional. "You saw working on the culture."
"I only wanted to play football and get so free coaching. I love playing, boss, I really do. There was sothing different here from day one but I told my parents as soon as it turns toxic I'm out. Every ti there was sothing I didn't like you turned up and scread at soone. In a good way. And then the Maxterplans. It's like, where else is the boss talking about the Cambrian Era and Babylonian maps? Zach's turned into one of the best defenders in League Two, hasn't he? That's because you love that he's a big dinosaur freak and he gets to be himself."
"Did you see him at half ti?" I said, smiling.
"When he was raging at us?" said Dan.
"That's what we needed. I'm no good in conditions like that. I hate wind. Football shouldn't be played in wind. I was sulking, mate, plain and simple. Up steps Zach and Vimsy to do the yelling. It's not all beautiful moves, is it? Sotis you need graft and a bit of the old caveman ntality. Diversity doesn't an ticking boxes, it ans having loads of people so you've got loads of skills. I'm proud of Zach. Today was the exact right ti for him to get up and holler."
"I think I know what you an. We still lost 2-1 though, didn't we? You can't shout a gale force wind away. I prefer Zach when he's nerding out over fossils. Then there's Henri. His Christmas play, his party, the way he talks about philosophy. I just... I just love it. It makes enjoy the tactics talk with Wibbers and Pascal and that lot. And I even don't mind so of the other banter."
"Like what?"
"You know, the more basic stuff. Marry, fuck, kill or whatever."
"Emma, Camila, Foquita. Decide."
"No," he laughed. "No way." He appeared to think about it for a mont and I knew which of the choices was giving him pause. He shook his head to get rid of the entire ntal process. "The thing is..."
My phone vibrated but Dan was about to tell the thing he had been trying to tell the entire ride. I ignored the phone and stared at him. You have my undivided attention.
He licked his lips. "The thing is, you've been saying how I'm not for sale and all that kind of thing but everyone knows that ans you're inviting bids. Pascal says you're creating FOMO and building a market for . Because, you know, you want to sell one day."
I opened my mouth to speak, then shut it again.
Dan said, "I just... I've heard even more stories now. From Vimsy, from Ryan, from Jackie Reaper. From Sam. From Josh Owens," he added. He got very fidgety. "I don't think I could hack it at another club. There's no way I'd fit in. I think... I think I don't want a normal football career. I want to stay at Chester and go to museums with Zach and Henri and listen to you do just utterly mad team talks and go ape if soone forgets to translate for Dani. And yeah okay it's cool other managers are interested in but I'm not interested in them, boss. There's no-one like you." His eyes were getting red. "I don't want to go."
I rubbed my eyebrows pretty hard and I can't say I was completely unmoved by Dan's words. "Whoo," I said. "All right. Didn't expect that." I adjusted the tray hinge thing. How did it keep getting out of place? Oh, right. Because I kept punching it. Funny, that. All my frustration was long gone and I felt at peace. "First thing, I'm pimping you out not to sell you but to get you an England call-up."
"Oh."
"I think I thought that was obvious."
"It wasn't."
"Gotcha. How can I put this? I won't sell you until I think you've hit your ceiling." I lifted myself up and looked around. Foquita was in a different seat but it was obvious by his posture that he was holding his phone up. I thought I detected a smile but he normally only smiled just after scoring. "These guys, I know their limits. Eddie Moore, Sam Topps, Cavvers, even Sharky, I knew how long they had left until they peaked so I could judge their value. You? I have no fucking clue. The eye test is unreliable but I can't believe you can play like that against the Prem teams and, well, not be a Prem player. But I don't know. If soone offers two million pounds for, say, Zach, or Bark, I'd take it because it's easy to imagine that's a win-win. You? I have no idea but soone's winning that deal."
"What makes different?"
"Don't know. Don't care. I'm enjoying the journey. Aren't you?"
"Yeah," he said. "Okay but this Charlie Dugdale. You said you recomnded him to Ruth. She's got Youngster, Wibbers, Dazza, Angel. Sorry but it's obvious those are the players you think can go far, right? Why didn't you ever suggest ?"
My eyes widened and I nodded hard. "Great question. It's because I don't know. Should we, should Ruth take a risk? Probably. But..." I smiled. "You've talked yourself into a corner, haven't you?"
"What do you an?"
"I an if you're worth ten grand a week and I offer you three, you've told you don't want to go anywhere else. It's Chester or a call centre. I can exploit you. I learned that from Karl Marx. Maybe not what he intended when he wrote his book."
Dan bit his bottom lip before exhaling. "I don't think you'll exploit that much. But yeah, an agent is no good to , is she? If I want to be a one-club man."
My phone was going ntal but I tried to ignore it. "Might not be a bad idea for you to talk to Ruth. You can get so Grindhog gear for free, at least. Listen, Dan. If you want to stay here, you can, as long as you keep improving. If you stop improving tomorrow we have a big problem because in eighteen months this club will be in the Championship. Do you get ? It's not a charity. If you keep improving you can co all the way. You know I need money to build all the shit I need to build but I also need soone press-resistant who can run my midfield so it's not a hardship for to keep you around. Heh. But I think football isn't as bad as that scout made out. You listen to the modern England players, Saka, Bingley, Kane, and they're not monsters, are they? They're really decent. I know there are still clubs that sound like they're from the 80s but I honestly, honestly think it's a mistake to close off the idea completely."
"Like... what club would I fit in?"
I smiled. "Mate, you're not that weird, are you? Sam Topps loved you from the start and it's not like you're disruptive or a teacher's pet or you slack off in training. I've been crunching the numbers for the kinds of budgets I might get in our first year in the Championship and it's grim. Grim in a hilarious way. Even when we get to the Prem and I've got a hundred mill to waste I'm not going to be paying seventy grand a week. Imagine you're on five grand and I want to sell you to a club that would give you seventy or eighty thousand a week. Do that for two years and you're made for life. You and your family and the people you care about. Do you know what I an? You can do sothing shit for two years, can't you? It doesn't have to be completely depressing. When it's over I'll take you back or you can do Saltney or West or all kinds of things but you won't ever have to worry about money again. And it could help you grow as a person. I don't like to imagine you unhappy but I do like to imagine you growing and becoming even more the person you want to be."
"I watched the video from when you did your Cambrian Era speech. It said the creatures started evolving because there was a predator."
"What's that saying?" I rubbed my eyes; it had been a long day. "Oysters need grit to make pearls. Sothing like that but pithy. What I don't want is to send you sowhere that's all grit. Just enough hardship so that you can grow. And while you're working on yourself, you're trousering three million a year after tax." I laughed. "I don't know. I'm just saying don't rule it out just yet."
"I can go and co back?"
"If you're good enough, yeah. You have to assu Chester gets better every year."
"The Relentlessness."
"Exactly." I unclipped the seat tray and pulled it down so I could fidget with it. "Today was shit. Today was really shit. I'm not sure we can win the league now."
"Fuck."
"Bradford are back to 18 points clear. We've got those three gas in hand. Can we win all three? Yes. Can we make up 9 points on them in the other gas? Yes. Mansfield are 15 points clear but we have played the sa number of gas. They have beaten us ho and away. Can we make those points up? Maybe. Can we overtake both? Yeahhhhhh maybe." I lifted the tray and let it drop. "We have to go on a winning run. Three of the next four matches are tough as hell: Carlisle, Fleetwood, Burton. Then it's a ten-ga stretch ripe for a winning streak and two of the last three gas could go either way. Yeah, I think we can get close enough to put pressure on. Close enough for one of the two teams to crack. But both? Not sure..."
I thought for a while before pushing the tray ho and clipping it into place.
"Dan, don't fret. You control your career and I only want what's best for you. I honestly think a bit of an adventure might do you good. You can go to Germany or sothing like that, you know, where the culture is less brutish and you can't understand what they're saying anyway. I'm thinking about next season and I'm pretty sure we are going to absolutely fucking crush. My mum's all right and I'm thinking ahead. One day soon I'll be married to Ems and there will be little baby Maxes all over the place and I won't be thinking about living abroad ever again. If I want to do it, I need to do it now because I'll be the most boring stay-at-ho dad who ever dadded, I'm pretty sure of that. The thought gives that wanderlust, do you know what I an? Being a tourist is all right - well, no, it's shit - but living sowhere new? Only for three months or sothing but why not? Sandra can run Chester. It'll be a piece of piss." I stared into the future. "I want to get it out of my system. Make so mories. You might prefer to do it when you're old and that's all right. Just think about it is all I'm saying." I laughed.
"What's funny?" said Dan.
"I was just thinking about you at Stoke or so club like that and it's a bit cavemanny. So pricks are giving you shit because you used a word longer than two syllables and you just point at one and say, 'Max Best thinks you're dogshit'. Heh. That would be him cooked, I think. They'd learn not to fuck about with you."
Dan smiled. "You're so arrogant."
"Arrogance makes the heart grow fonder."
"That's not the expression."
That was the mont Foquita appeared in the aisle next to us - with his arm wrapped around Banksy's neck. Banksy was grinning from ear to ear. I knew that look. It was that of soone who had been talking to Camila. Foquita babbled and held up his phone. A tired Camila was looking back. "Max. It is okay. Foquita understands."
"Good," I said. "Tell him I am happy with his progress." I turned the phone back, heard so Spanish, watched as his smile got huge. I flipped the phone back. "Tell him I'm so happy with his progress I'm putting him on a special training program."
She told him and his grin got wider, but he spotted the looks on Dan's and Banksy's faces and his smile diminished. Camila asked to explain what it ant. I declined. She turned to Foquita's mother, said sothing, and they both made the sign of the cross. I ended the call and gave my player his phone back. "Bye," I said.
"Bye-bye," he said, confused, as he shuffled back to his seat.
"What have you got planned?" said Dan.
"Special students need special teachers. Right," I said, getting my phone out and reading quickly. "Weasel is being a dick. Okay, that's that. Case closed, deal's off. Sha, really. Let just write this text."
I was wondering how to word my reply when Dan reached up and touched my arm. I stared at him. He said, "He's a good player. Is he a good person?"
"Duggers? I would say so, yeah. He'd win Celebrity Big Brother or sothing like that through being a bit dizzy but mostly decent. Voltaire might not get on with him."
"Is that...?"
"There's a quote I like. Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do. If we ask Duggers to help at a food bank he'll go but he'd never think to do sothing like that on his own. Does that make him a bad person?"
"No."
"And if I buy him for four hundred grand and sell him for two million, I can do a load of good with that money."
Dan nodded. "So why are you canceling the deal?"
"Because..." I said. Then I scoffed and dialled. "MD? How are you doing? Yeah, it was a bad one. Miserable. No, I still think we'll get 90 points. That gets us up, right? Yeah, that's not a problem. No, I'm not joking; I'm going to put my foot on the accelerator. Did you see the texts I sent about Chip? Father Chipmas, yeah! Listen: Charlie Dugdale. I know there's so reputation risk but he hasn't done anything wrong, we haven't done anything wrong. If his agent wants to be a dick, we rise above it. Let Gemma deal with it. Duggers is happy at Reading but that place will be a disaster zone soon. We can rescue him before the fire even starts. That's a new level of heroism, Mike. I didn't realise it until now but doing the right thing has unlocked Zach and it's why Dan is at the club. It costs us a few points here and there but you know it doesn't take much for to double down. No, no tantrums, it's your choice. Yeah, he's worth it. You'll love him, Mike. He'll fill that stand we're building. Yeah. Dreamy. All right." I hung up.
Dan was agog. "What did he say?"
I shook my head. "He said he wouldn't even consider it unless Bradford City blew one point five million on guys with no resale value."
Dan had a sad air about him for a few seconds. "But you said you'd get him a good move in the sumr. He'll be all right."
I didn't reply, unless giving him a sardonic stare counts.
Dan's eyes narrowed. "Hang on. Why would MD say anything about Bradford when you're talking about Duggers?"
"He wouldn't," I said, tapping on my screen. I brought up a transfer deals page and filtered it for Bradford. I showed Dan that Folke was about to spend Chip's money on three players aged 30 and over.
Gareth Davies - Stevenage - Bradford - 730,000
Olly Oduor - Exeter City - Bradford - 500,000
Kent Halle - Accrington - Bradford - 270,000
"Shit," said Dan. "That's crazy, isn't it?"
I shrugged. "Depends if you want a financial return from those players. If you think you can ten x your investnt by getting promoted, it's peanuts. We will see!"
Dan heard so laughs from the back of the bus and I knew he was ready to go back and spend the last hour of the journey with his mates. He stood up and gripped a head rest in each hand. I felt the cogs in his brain whirring. He was such an enigma I had no idea what he would say next. He surprised by asking the most obvious question. "What did MD say really? After you said Duggers would fill the stand and that he was dreamy?"
I pushed the arm rest up and spread out over the two seats of my domain. "He said 'always bet on Best.'"
***
Charlie Dugdale - Reading - Chester - 400,000
***
Dan Badford
Injuries: None
Form: 7-8-10-6-5
Morale: Superb
Future: Thinks Max Best is a tactical genius. Proud to be playing at Chester. Wants to stay at the club for a very long ti.
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