by George Nagle
If James thought he talked fast, he had nothing on Carissa.
“Thing is,” she continued, “it’s at Paradise with the Celtic.”
“Yes,” James said. “I’d like to go with you.” This was a new sensation, being asked out by a woman.
“Seriously?” Carissa sounded relieved.
“Aye, but I think I should drive. Don’t want you bumping another guy whilst out with me.”
Laughing, Carissa said, “Cheeky! At least you have a sense of humor. I have tae be in Glasgow a wee bit longer than the match, I am afraid for a few days, you know. Well actually, I live here as I finish university, but may move soon. Can I meet you there, then?”
“Sure, sure. What time should we meet outside the stadium?” he asked.
“The match is set for 1 p.m., so quarter past noon would be good, you think?”
“Sounds lovely. See you tomorrow, then. And thanks for inviting me.”
“I think I owe you at least that much. Glad you are coming. Bye.”
James hung up the phone and walked to the hotel. He felt good, and he didn’t want to spoil it. He decided he was taking the rest of the night and tomorrow off just to be happy. The letter from Calum could wait until tomorrow night, and work wasn’t going anywhere. He was going to the pool and supper before staying in to watch a movie.
***
The next morning passed slowly until it was time to start the three hour drive across Scotland. At noon, James parked. Ten minutes later, he found Carissa at the gates.
She had her hair in a ponytail that suited her. The smile on her face and absence of tears made James note just how very good looking she was. The smile seemed to truly span her face. That, along with her twinkling eyes, made for an exceptional effect. James had a positive feeling, a tingle he couldn’t explain.
Reaching Carissa, he held out his hand and said, “Good afternoon; you look great.”
She blushed and shook his hand. “Shall we go in, then? I am very happy you came and all.”
James started to walk toward the entrance, and Carissa stopped him.
“Oh, we are in the club, this way,” she said, still blushing. “How’s the saying, ‘I ain’t no cheap bitch tae date’?”
This was priceless in her Scottish accent, and they both started laughing.
“Now, who is cheeky? Lead the way, then,” James grinned from ear to ear as they made their way to the proper entrance. “Thank you again for inviting me. This should be a great match.”
“It really should, yea, but you know the Celtic should win,” Carissa stated as they reached the door.
The hall was very well done with a great combination of tile and brick. The walls were covered in the history of the football club and displays showed the accomplishments made throughout the league.
“May I help you?” asked the man at the desk.
As Carissa got the tickets, James started to take in more details. The elevator was to the far left near the doors they’d come in, but there seemed to be a good bit of dead space that visually wasn’t accounted for when you thought about the outside of the building. Everything seemed to have a fresh, updated look, even the surveillance system.
Before James could think about that too much, Carissa had the tickets and had grabbed his hand. “This way,” she said, letting her fingers slowly slip away.
James smiled and gestured as if to say, “After you.”
They had to walk up a few flights of steps. As they did, James found himself at eye level with Carissa’s backside. Nice, he thought to himself as they hit the second platform to turn up the next set of steps.
As if he’d announced what his eyes were doing, Carissa smiled and said, “I do a bit of running and a day of squats and lunges to get that shapely bottom.”
James felt himself instantly flush, which was rare, given his level of control on his emotions. “I ... I um, well, I umm ... I wasn’t trying to … We are going up the steps and all. It was just kind of right in front of me,” he finished lamely.
Some people near them snickered.
Carissa smiled. “You look like someone painted you red. I will take it as a compliment. At least you didn’t try tae steal a touch. Had tae give the last bloke I saw a good imprint of my hand for that. Wanker that he was,” and she winked.
They had reached the proper floor for the club seating. They walked through two doors and into a rather large open gathering area. The first thing James noticed were two stands where wagers could be placed about eight feet from the door he and Carissa had entered. Immediately to his right were the restrooms.
They took a few steps on the hardwood floor toward the general area. Several large televisions suspended from the ceiling were showing a variety of sports. Beneath the televisions was a buffet style layout of lunch foods.
“Fancy a wager on the match?” Carissa said.
“Oh, yeah. What do you think, a few pounds on the Celtic to win?” James played along, though he hadn’t expected the question.
“A few pounds on them tae win, then? How about someone having some stones and put the quid on a scoring match and get the odds?” Carissa was smiling but serious at the same time. The fire in her eyes was irresistible.
“How about a twenty note? You pick the score.” James dug the money out of his pocket after handing Carissa the betting sheet.
“Hmm, well, what tae pick, what tae pick ... Want a good return on the money, which I, of course, get half the winnings if it comes through.” She threw James a sly sideways glance and he chuckled, nodding.
“How about the Celtic win by two goals?”
Without thinking, James said, “Well, if you want to really play the odds and get the best bet, then make it the Celtic win 3-1. Still your prediction, but you get a 2.5 percent better bet.”
“Oh! Done this once or twice then? A few pounds, he says, like this is a first time.” Carissa put down the pen and glanced at James with her eyebrows raised, a smile on her face. She was sharp and fast.
“That was some of the fastest calculating I have seen,” said the lady taking bets, and James found himself at a loss as to how to follow up without exposing too much. In the back of his head, he processed the slip up.
“Old trick with the numbers, you know, based on her prediction of a two goal win margin and all.” James handed over the money and the wager sheet. The lady processed the request and gave Carissa the slip.
“That solves that on who is holding the winning piece,” James said with a grin.
“Have tae start this date off right. You pay and I collect, a yin and yang system, right?” Carissa said this with as straight a face as anyone could before laughing out loud.
“Want a spot of food?” She gestured toward the spread, and James agreed. He felt hunger and something else in his stomach that he couldn’t explain. All he knew was this date was all of ten minutes in, and he was having a blast.
They collected some fish and chips and went to find a table after a mini-fight over who was going to pay.
“You got the tickets, and by the looks of them, those are expensive seats,” he argued.
“The tickets were free for me and would have been wasted. You just got the wager,” came Carissa’s reply.
“I was supposed to take you to supper. Besides, me granddad would be highly disappointed if his grandson ever let a pretty lassie like you pay on a first date for anything,” James said, knowing this was a weak comeback. At the moment, it was the best he could do.
They found a table and James went for drinks. A few minutes later, he returned with a beer for Carissa and a cola for himself to find an older couple had joined them.
As James set down the drinks, Carissa said, “This is Mary and Joseph. Very cute name combination, eh? Most of the seats are filled, and they asked if they could join us. Seems they make all the home games.”
“Nice to meet you,” James said, shaking hands with them both. “Can I get you drinks?”
“Oh no, deary, that won’t
be needed. We have some water. I don’t take the drink any longer, and it gives Joseph the winds something terrible,” Mary said.
Joseph merely held up his water and muttered, “Yes, dear,” before returning his attention to the monitor showing the horse race.
They group ate and chatted, with Mary and Carissa speaking the most. Carissa, like James, was enjoying the flow of the day and saw no reason to alter their circumstances. Besides, they’d be taking their seats for the match soon.
It soon transpired that Mary and Joseph had three children, two daughters named Antoinette and Alice and a son named Terry. Mary had been a schoolteacher until the summer before last. Joseph was a master plumber who apparently was the world’s leading expert in below-ground-pitted systems design.
“What is that, exactly?” James asked, having never heard of such a thing, but with a high level of interest.
“Well, mate, the best way to explain is an example, you know. So take an old system without the plumbing in, with a well feed in, that has no pumps. Like an old castle without proper electricity, you know, hard to put the systems in the walls. Well, you typically have all sorts of issues, but the easiest way to get that is to put in a sublevel pit that has the water feed off the well. As the water feeds through, it drops and creates flow to climb and pressure a pipe properly.”
As he described this, Joseph crudely drew on the back of a napkin.
“Now, he continued, “if you are so industrious as to set heat in the boiler, you put the boiler down too. That has its own issues, mind, like the need for an exit that is proper and nearby at the base level because …”
Mary interrupted. “Joseph, dear, I am sure that was more than a satisfactory answer, and the match is about to start. Shall we take our seats?”
Joseph immediately said, “Yes, dear,” got up, and started shaking hands.
Mary continued, “It was lovely having a chat with you both. Please enjoy the match and hopefully the Bhoys win, eh?”
After they left, Carissa turned and said, “Well, shall we go too, then?”
James immediately got up and looked Carissa dead in the eye, miming, “Yes, dear.”
Carissa let out a loud burst of laughter before covering her mouth. Recovering, she said with a dazzling grin, “I don’t think we are quite at their level yet.”
They passed through two side-by-side doors into what looked to be a proper restaurant on their way to their seats. It looked vaguely familiar to James, but after a while, a lot of places began to blend.
The seats were great. They offered a spectacular view of the pitch at an angle to the goalkeepers net, and the whole stadium seemed to open up to them. They were comfortable, too. Wide and with a fair amount of legroom, and certainly nicer looking than some of the seats in the other sections.
Adding to the atmosphere were people all around them. Everyone was carrying on like it was one large party. Conversations spanned several rows, and everyone was jumping in and out of the conversations. James thought it was like being with his family, only slightly larger and with drunken Scottish accents.
James had never really followed soccer in the U.S. The best he could do was avoid saying “soccer” in place of “football.” He would just go with the flow as best he could, but even his keen ears were having issues following the Scottish.
“From where do you hail, lad?” came a booming voice from behind him.
“Me?” James answered.
“Aye, you. Certainly not this bell of a lass with ya now, so where you from?” said the man. “And what is your name? Or did ya forget that too?”
James felt a ton of people suddenly looking at him. It was as if someone had turned off the noise of the crowd all at once.
“My name is John, and I hail from Aberdeen. Might I ask yours?”
“John from Aberdeen, you say! Well now, what brings a man from the eastern parts all the way to Tom Burns’ stadium then?” said the man.
James always found sports enthusiast to be slightly annoying by some of the claims they made like “We won” or “my team.” James thought this was another example of that, but James didn’t know that Tom Burns was formerly a famous player for the Celtic.
Before James could answer, Carissa jumped in. “Perhaps this bell who is named Carissa wanted an outing tae see the Bhoys demonstrate how the game really should be played.”
The crowd, including the inquiring man, laughed. “Too true that, too true. Well, this will be a match for sure. Us lot,” and he made a vague gesture with the pint of ale in his hands, causing it to spill, “we all come to most the matches, and the seats you have there are not held on for the season, but just single matches. Always like to know we have the right supporters in the group, eh lads?”
The crowd gave a loud cheer of “Stripes!” and the original babble broke back out.
As Carissa and James sat down, she seemed rather nonplussed about the exchange. “The Glassies, you know, we are friendly folk.” She changed the subject. “Now when the match starts, until the first shot on goal for us, we will stand and jump and show our backsides to the other team as they come down our end of the pitch.”
“Literally, as in pull a moony?” James asked.
“Nah, just turn our back to them, ya know, and jump. You’ll see,” she replied.
When the player introductions were done, the match began. Inverness, the opposing team, was moving up the pitch with the ball. As one, the crowd stood, turned around, placed arms over each other’s shoulders, and began to jump and chant.
James went along as best he could, though he seemed to be the only one out of the rhythm of the jump.
The announcer said that Celtic had possession, and again as one, everyone sat to watch. This happened two more times, and James concluded this was a lively bunch. As drunk as they were, he was surprised more people weren’t falling down while turning front to back and back to front again.
“That was a good set then, no idiots tried to climb onto the field, and doesn’t look like anyone took a hard fall,” Carissa said, as if she’d heard his thoughts.
Another ten minutes passed, and then one of the Celtic players had a break. He moved quickly to position as fast as he could. The goalie would not have time to recover if the kick were true, hard, and at the right angle. The ball was there and the kick thrown …
“Oh, what the bloody hell was that shit? You dirty, slanty eyed bastard!” came the pre-adolescent voice of a boy who looked to be about nine years old directly in front of Carissa. He was standing between two grown men, both of whom looked down at him.
“How the bloody hell do you miss that?” the boy continued. “Maybe if you opened your eyes and looked at what your worthless arse was doing you could make the goal! Bet ya if ya had a bit of meat between your legs like a proper man your yellow gook of an ass would be making that play, then. Stupid dumb bastard!” hollered the boy. “Get him some rice!”
“You tell ‘em, son,” said the man to the boy’s right, looking down with pride.
After the shock wore off, James laughed so hard he was practically in tears. Never had he heard a child speak with such a foul mouth, let alone be encouraged by a parent to do so. He turned his head to semi-hide the fact that he was laughing, as he didn’t really think the racist part should be encouraged with laughter, but the torrent of words had been impressive.
Carissa looked at James and said, “Ah, well, you know, the match and all and the wee Glassie lads.”
The boy turned and shouted, “What of the wee Glassie lads, Risa?” giving extra accent to the abbreviated version of her name.
“Now that’s enough of that, lad,” said the boy’s dad. “You treat the lady with some respect, as she didn’t say nothing bad to you. Besides, she looks like she could tan your hind end for good, and I won’t be able to stop her neither.”
The neighboring crowd laughed, as did the boy and Carissa.
The match was still scoreless until five minutes left in the first half, when the Celt
ic scored on a long shot right off the post. The stadium exploded in cheers, and a great chant broke out as fireworks went off near the opposite end of the stadium.
The remainder of the first half had some great shots on goal and even more spectacular saves, as the teams battled it out, but the first half ended 1-0 for the Celtic and with a player from Inverness being given a red card just as the half ended, apparently for being too mouthy with the referee.
They went for a bite during half time back in the area with all the monitors, but found it had been refreshed with different foods and arrangements. Once again, James felt he should pay.
“Carissa, are you sure I can’t help with the costs? It just seems very nice and expensive. I don’t want you to be put out or anything.”
“No worries. Care for a bit of these cakes then?” she answered, pointing toward some small cakes in the buffet area.
They gathered some snacks and found seats to watch two horse races. They chatted about small things and became so engrossed in conversation that they found themselves among the last to return to the game.
Returning to their seats for the second half of the match, James stumbled. He’d been too focused on his thoughts and almost fallen down the steps, but he managed to catch himself at the last second.
“Oh, you all right then?” Carissa asked, reaching down to help. Regaining his feet, his heart racing, he caught her eyes. Those big eyes were staring into his face with a look of worry and relief.
“A pint too many then, lad. You Aberdeen lads need to learn how to hold a drink.” The crowd near enough to hear gave a roar of laughter as the uncle of the nine year old spoke to James while clamping his foul mouthed nephew on the shoulder. The boy grinned from ear to ear.
It seemed to happen rapidly, but the match was suddenly over and James and Carissa were back out front. James wondered where the time had gone and had to think to remember the Celtic had won by a final score of 1-0.
