White Lines
Page 34
There was bedlam in three-quarters of the ground. Only the Thamesmead end and the small part of the stand occupied by Thamesmead fans, were silent. Patti embraced Mark and David Sinclair kissed Emma. Helen and Rob clung to each other, reluctant to take their seats for the last ten minutes. Somehow or other Hertsmere hung on and when the final whistle blew the thin blue line of police made no real effort to restrain the jubilant home supporters from invading the pitch and grabbing whatever souvenir they could.
Amidst the noise and the triumphant confusion it was difficult to hear the mobile phone ring, but Mohammed Halid eventually reached into his pocket, answered and took the message with a smile. He whispered something to Nabil and then came over to Mark to share the message. Mark ran to the front of the box, where it overhung the pitch. Barry Reed had extricated himself from his team-mates and the well-wishers who all wanted to touch the man who had not only taken the Premiership title to the club, but had guaranteed their unique place in European footballing history. He came over towards Mark and looked up. Mark cupped his hands and yelled down the news.
‘It’s a boy. Mother and baby are fine.’
Barry’s celebrations at scoring the goal were subdued compared to the back-flip he performed as Mark’s words sunk in. It had taken time for Mo Halid to accept that he was going to have Barry Reed as a son-in-law. The fact that he was going to be a grandfather had been difficult enough to swallow, but now he had a face and a name to put to the father. The police decision to drop the prosecution of the pregnant Dominique had been welcome. But going into labour on today of all days, had hardly been impeccable timing. Fowler had offered Barry the chance to be with her, but right now he was relieved that, rightly or wrongly, Dominique had insisted that Barry put his club and career first.
‘There’ll be other babies,’ she’d told Barry, ‘and, believe me, the excuse hasn’t been invented that will allow you to get out of being there when they’re born.’
Mo and Nabil said their hasty farewells and dashed downstairs to the car that Mo had arranged to whisk them and Barry off to the hospital to see Dominique and her son. The box emptied out as Sinclair and Helen also made their way on to the pitch to join the celebrations, becoming indistinguishable from the other fans. Only Mark, Patti and Emma were left. Emma was sensitive enough to move away, ostensibly to get a better view of the crazy scenes on the pitch.
‘I liked what you said to Barry,’ Patti said.
‘What did I say?’ Mark asked, although he knew full well.
‘It’s a boy. Mother and baby are fine,’ she said, linking her hand in his.
‘Are you trying to tell me something?’ he said with a smile.
‘I do believe so,’ she replied, moving closer.
‘I can’t guarantee it will be a boy,’ Mark said, nodding in the direction of Emma, his daughter from his first marriage.
‘I know,’ Patti said quietly, ‘it doesn’t matter.’ And then she kissed him long and hard.
About the author
Mel Stein is best known as the personal business manager of Paul Gascoigne and Chris Waddle. Brought up in North London, he was taken to his first football match at the age of three by his family who were fanatical Arsenal supporters. To the horror of his relatives, in 1951 Mel defected to Newcastle United when they won the FA Cup. He has remained a loyal supporter ever since.
Mel Stein is a qualified solicitor who became involved in football and sports law in the mid-eighties. He was responsible for conceiving and launching the first Sports Law Postgraduate University course in the UK jointly with King’s College, London. Over the past dozen years, he has been involved with the international transfers of both Chris Waddle and Paul Gascoigne and has represented many other leading players. He is the author of five non-fiction books on football, and lives in North London with two football-crazy sons and a long-suffering wife.