Final Whistle

by J Jackson Bentley

  “Dad.” Tanya was lining up for a deep question. “Do you love Sara?” I didn’t need to think about the answer.

  “Yes, I do,” I replied honestly. Tanya put her arm around my waist and hugged me.

  “Then ask her to marry you. For what its worth that’s what I want as well.”

  ************

  At eleven on Sunday morning the limo driver dropped me off in the United directors’ car park. I walked over to the great old stadium, though it was hardly recognisable now after all of the alterations and the addition of the nearly completed new stand. The commissionaire nodded me through the door and I took the lift to the press room, where Tony McDonald sat poring over some papers. I walked in and sat down beside him. Strong sunlight streamed through the window and fell on the table, making it uncomfortable to look at the white papers in front of me.

  “Sorry, Alex. I didn’t hear you come in.” He shook my hand. “I’m glad you're here,” he continued, as he shuffled his loose papers into a single pile. “We need to talk,”he said. Almost before he had finished speaking the already brightly lit room was flooded with an even more blinding light.

  “Gerry!” Tony cried out shielding his eyes.

  “Sorry, guv,” the electrician apologised, "I pressed the wrong switch." Gerry corrected his error and the two, one thousand watt halogen video lights were extinguished. The room that had seemed bright before, now seemed dull as my eyes had adjusted to the video lights.

  The next few minutes were spent discussing our respective families and the afternoon’s programme of events. It took him a few minutes to get to the real reason for the meeting, but when it came it was a blockbuster of a reason.

  “Alex. In the next couple of days you will read that City are hoping to persuade Danny Miller to join them as manager.”

  “You’re joking?” I was genuinely surprised.

  “No, and what’s more Danny is sorely tempted. Who wouldn’t be, a chance to manage a Premiership side with rich foreign owners and money to spend? I think he’ll go.”

  “It is a golden opportunity.” I admitted. “After all he hasn’t got any management experience and to go in at the top…Well, he’d be mad to say no.”

  “Which brings me nicely to my question. How would you like to replace him?” Tony asked.

  “Permanently?”

  “Yes,” he said firmly.

  “All matches or just the Monday night match programme?” I asked.

  “Everything that Danny does now and a couple of special documentaries on the summer tournaments.” Tony tried to read my expression. He probably saw a mixture of shock and disbelief. I tried to take it all in. It was a generous offer but what if I made it back to full fitness? I had to ask Tony the question, it was only fair.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, Alex. For now, I’d like you on board.” We discussed the job, the salary and the conditions of employment in general terms. Afterwards we agreed that I should take a few days to think about it. Whilst I didn’t want to give up on my career, this would offer me a very generous and secure income for years to come. That would be a help when the short term insurance came to an end in a few months’ time. I was faced with a difficult decision and I would just have to take the time necessary to make the right choice.

  ************

  Before the match I wandered into the United dressing room and chatted with the players. They were friendly but their minds were on the match ahead. As I walked back towards the commentary box someone called my name. I turned to see Bill Fisher, the club chairman, striding along behind me. When he was within reach he stretched out his hand.

  “Congratulations on the court case, Alex. I was hoping that you’d win but I have to admit, I was far from certain.” He hesitated. “Anyway, lad. We need to have a talk about your future here at the club. There’s a rumour going around that Sky might have something for you.” He was probing.

  “United will always come first, Mr Fisher. You know that.”

  “That I do lad, that I do. Anyway, I’ll give you a call one evening this week. We’re all working late on this damn ‘Operation Ballgame’ farrago. It’s a real mess.” It seemed that he was speaking to himself more than to me.

  “None of our people were involved, surely?” I asked, knowing that they weren’t.

  “They’d better bloody not be, the wages we pay them.” He smiled and patted me on the shoulder as he went on his way.

  The afternoon’s match was hard fought and, predictably, United came out on top after a late second half goal. Exciting as the game was I had trouble concentrating. Could I really consider giving all of this up? The noisy adulation of a fanatical crowd, the team spirit, the joy of scoring, even the despair of losing. I wasn’t sure and so when the match was over I packed my bag and headed towards the limousine and home, my brow furrowed with concentration. As I closed on the waiting car I caught sight of Len Bailey, the local newspaperman.

  “Hello Alex. I thought that the limousine would be waiting for you.” The old pressman stroked the gleaming paintwork of the hired car.

  “Hi, Len.” I guessed the purpose of this interception. “What did you think of the match?”

  “I wrote my copy this morning before I came out. I knew what it would be like.” Len tried to be cynical and hard bitten but he truly loved the game. “I’m calling in that favour you owe me, Alex. I want to do a piece on your court case and your future at United.” I knew that I owed him and so I cheerfully agreed to meet him at the time he suggested.

  “OK then, that’s Tuesday evening at six.” He wrote the appointment in a tatty black note book. “I’ll see you then,” he concluded. I nodded and climbed into the car.

  ************

  Sara’s car was in the driveway when I arrived home. I smiled to myself. I could tell her about the TV offer and ask her advice. That way I could gradually work my way around to our relationship and how I really felt about her. If I could find the words I might even ask her to consider being my wife. My thoughts turned to Vicki and, whilst I knew she would have gladly consented to this arrangement, I felt disloyal. Negative feelings then flooded into my mind, ruining my self confidence. I tried to push them aside but they came at me in wave after wave until they overwhelmed my limited resistance.

  “What are you doing, Alex?” I thought. “You’ve only known the girl a few weeks. In any case, she is so much younger than you are. You are at the end of your career and she hasn’t started hers. Anyway, just because she is friendly it doesn’t automatically follow that she wants to spend the rest of her life with you. Slow down. No need to rush.”

  I opened the door in a much less positive frame of mind. Sara was sitting in my chair explaining the physiology of horses and Tanya was squatting at her feet with her arms resting on Sara’s knees. Tanya was rapt with attention. Neither of them heard me come in. I stood for a moment and watched as the two women in my life talked and laughed together. Sara stroked Tanya’s hair absentmindedly as she spoke and Tanya closed her eyes, enjoying the touch of a mother figure. If she had been a cat she would have purred. I was reluctant to spoil the idyllic scene but did so all the same.

  “Alex. You’re back. We’ve just been watching you on TV.” Sara’s jollity was infectious and I grinned widely, all doubts slipping away like sand through open fingers.

  The three of us sat down to a companionable meal and Tanya tactfully recalled that she had something to do upstairs. She winked at me as she passed me on the way out of the dining room. I was wondering what to say when Sara moved her delicate hand across the table and laid it gently on mine.

  “Alex,” she opened cautiously. “I have some news.”

  I listened attentively as all of my plans and dreams withered away to nothing. Sara had been offered a position with a well respected veterinary practice whose specialisation was horses. Obviously I was pleased to hear about the offer but I was less pleased when she told me that the job was in Guildford. The minutes passed as I saw t
he excitement build within her, this girl-woman that I had come to love dearly. She was clearly besotted with the idea of working with such a prestigious practice and she was in no doubt that even to be offered the position was a great honour. I decided that I simply couldn’t stand in her way. If that was what was best for her then I had to be man enough to let her go. I didn’t want to, of course. I wanted to beg her to stay, but what kind of love would that be?

  “Sara, it sounds great. I think you should grab the chance with both hands. I’ve had nearly thirteen years doing what I love, playing football, and getting paid for it. I think you should do the same. You’ll be a great success, I know you will.” The words rasped my throat like sandpaper as I forced them across reluctant vocal chords. I’d never been a good liar and my mouth dried up as it usually did when I wasn’t being honest.

  Rather than looking elated, Sara looked crestfallen at my sentiments and I wondered if I had missed something. Was this a test? Was I supposed to plead with her to stay? Did she really want to stay and was she hoping that I would give her a reason not to go? I was confused but luckily she saw my discomfort and made an announcement that I hadn’t expected.

  “Alex. I love you. I couldn’t stand to be away from you feeling the way I do. If you feel the same way about me, then I’d like you and Tanya to come with me.” I let her know how I felt by leaning across and kissing her firmly on the lips. She clamped my mouth to hers with a hand holding the back of my head. The passion was desperate and wanting. I wanted her, not only now in the heat of physical passion with hot blood coursing through my veins, but always. If only it could be so, but there were too many obstacles. What about United and my career? How could I move two hundred miles from my club and still expect to have any chance of playing for them? I kept my doubts to myself. This wasn’t the moment to express them.

  We moved to the sofa and held each other tightly. Sara looked into the distance as she spoke.

  “You won’t be coming with me will you, Alex?” It was more of a statement than a question. Thoughts of the job at Sky, my limited chances of playing at the top again, my need for Sara and Tanya’s obvious happiness all tumbled around my head. I made the hardest decision of my life.

  “Oh yes I will!” I said. “You aren’t going anywhere without me.” Sara sobbed loudly into my shoulder and I kissed the top of her head as the door burst open. Tanya leapt across the top of the sofa and with no regard for my injured leg landed in my lap.

  “Dad,” she sobbed as she joined Sara in my arms. I was a little taken aback.

  “What? You knew all about this? You were listening outside the door, weren’t you?” She grinned through her tears.

  “It’s her life as well, you know,” Sara said as she ruffled Tanya’s hair.

  ************

  Tony McDonald was surprised, but relieved, at the speed of my response. I thought I heard him let out a short whoop of joy when I accepted the job of anchorman for the football programmes. He promised to send out the contract immediately. We agreed that there would be a break clause that would operate if my knee recovered sufficiently to allow me to play Premiership football again. All I had to do was clear it with United and I didn’t think that they would hold me back.

  I sat in my car looking at my watch. Lance was late. We were supposed to meet at ten and it was already ten past. I stared out over the reservoir and thought of the happy times I had spent here before Vicki became too ill and weak to make the journey. I promised myself that my new family would spend more time together once we were all living in Guildford. I relaxed and listened to the radio as I looked forward to a future with Sara as my wife.

  I heard the motorbike before I saw it. It made a loud and deep throaty rumble as it pulled around the corner and into my line of vision. The bike was a black and gold shining machine that glinted in the sun. The noise of the engine died as Lance switched off the ignition. He propped up the Goldwing and removed his full face helmet. With his helmet tucked under his arm he walked over to the car, unzipping the brightly coloured leathers as he approached. I stepped out of the car and we sat at a wooden picnic table on wooden benches. Lance placed his gloves and helmet on the scarred table top as he sat down opposite me.

  “Sorry about the secrecy, Alex. But it was necessary.” Lance’s tone intrigued me. He was seldom melodramatic. “You see, Alex, Liam Watt is in town and I think you are his next target.”

  ************

  We shared a couple of beers as Lance explained his terrifying theory to me. Apparently Liam Watt’s sometime girlfriend had taken the train from London’s Euston station and had disembarked at Piccadilly station in the city centre. She had hired a small red Ford car from the Hertz agent and from there she was followed to a budget hotel. Unfortunately for Lance she had slipped out of the hotel unnoticed and disappeared. No-one knew where she was but it was a fair bet that she was with the twisted terrorist.

  “What makes you think that it’s me he’s after?” I asked. Lance looked at me as though the answer was obvious and I suppose it was. He explained anyway.

  “They killed Roy Bennett for lousing up one bet. You’ve been instrumental in bringing down the whole organisation.”

  He was right of course, I had been lucky so far. They had warned me off, and when I didn’t respond they had tried to cripple me, twice! Now that Chris Smith was out on bail and running the show again it was at least likely that I would be the subject of the syndicate’s venomous plans. Lance had a warning for me, which I took seriously. I had found real happiness and I didn’t want to lose it again so rapidly.

  “Until I find Liam Watt I want you to be really careful. Don’t speak to strangers or go to strange places. Exercise extreme caution at all times. Oh, and make sure that Tanya and Sara don’t go out alone. I wouldn’t put it past these people to kidnap someone you care about. Just be careful. Very, very careful.”

  ************

  I decided to heed Lance’s warning. After all, he was the expert in these matters. Despite voluble protests from Tanya and Sara, I managed to extract promises from them both that they wouldn’t go out alone for the next few days, at least until the furore over ‘Operation Ballgame’ had died down. To fall in with my wishes Sara rang home and asked her brother to gather together some clothes and toiletries. She explained that she would be staying over in our spare bedroom for a week or so prior to starting her new job. Jimmy had snickered and made a smutty innuendo when his younger sister mentioned that she would be using the spare room. Forgetting that she was asking him for a favour, she launched into a tirade of verbal abuse that set her brother straight on the sleeping arrangements. The volume and tone of her rebuke made my ears ring. For an instant I wondered what I would be letting myself in for with Sara as a partner. The thought, though, was fleeting and momentary. In the past few weeks Sara had become an essential part of my being. She invaded all of my thoughts and heightened all of my senses. Sara made me feel happy, sad, loving and even angry from time to time, but like Vicki she always made me feel something. She made me feel alive. She made me realise that I had only been going through the motions since Vicki’s death.

  It would have been wrong to impose these strictures on the two girls and ignore the security measures myself, and so I called Len Bailey and asked him to make a car parking space available in the newspaper’s secure loading bay. He agreed without question, presuming that it was something to do with my leg injury rather than my real concern about being abducted.

  **************

  I manoeuvred the car around newspaper delivery trucks and parked at the edge of the loading bay. Neville, the loading bay foreman, had stayed behind to await my arrival so the least I could do was sign a few autographs for his family when he asked. Norman led me to the lift and remarked how well I was walking now. I hadn’t really thought about it but I was much more mobile than I had been, though I was still desperately keen to have the lightweight cast removed.

  Len Bailey met me at the lift and led me
along the dingy corridor. As if apologising for the decor he explained that they were moving to new premises on the edge of the city in a few weeks time. It was probably just as well that Len was retiring. The old fashioned Victorian building suited the old reporter. It was hard to imagine Len in a new glass walled edifice with efficient youngsters eagerly running around feeding computers with news. Len was the last of the old school, a pressman through and through. His wife and family got fed up long ago and left, he didn’t chase after them. In truth this had been his real home for a long time and it was hard to see what he would do without it.

  Len lowered his bulky frame into the leather swivel chair and it hissed and groaned at the burden. Ignoring the dictation machine and his desktop computer, Len licked the end of a newly sharpened pencil and wrote on his notebook. ‘Alex Carter- What now?’

  For an hour Len probed and prodded as he extracted feelings and thoughts in much the same way as a psychiatrist might. I explained my plans, my hopes and even my dreams. He was an expert at extracting information I never intended to divulge. By the time we got half way into the interview we were alone in the office. It was then that the phone rang. Len picked up the receiver absent-mindedly as he continued to look down at his pad and scrawl.

  “Bailey. Sportsdesk,” he said without interest. “Hello Bill.” The old hack laid down his pencil and looked up at me. “I’m fine, Bill. Yes, we must have lunch sometime.” He flicked his eyes up heavenward in a silent sarcastic gesture. “Yes . He’s here,” Len handed me the phone. “Bill Fisher,” he mouthed.