90 Minutes Is Not Enough

by Robert Mann

  90 Minutes

  Is Not

  Enough

  Robert Mann

  First Published 2006

  Published by Pneuma Springs Publishing

  90 Minutes Is Not Enough

  Copyright © 2006 Robert Mann

  ISBN10: 1-905809-10-7

  ISBN13: 978-1-905809-10-3

  Cover design, editing and typesetting by:

  Pneuma Springs Publishing

  A Subsidiary of Pneuma Springs Ltd.

  230 Lower Road, Belvedere Kent, DA17 6DE.

  E: admin@pneumasprings.co.uk

  W: www.pneumasprings.co.uk

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Published in the United Kingdom. All rights reserved under International Copyright Law. Contents and/or cover may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written consent of the publisher.

  1

  A Fiery Baptism

  The pitch and the stands were now deserted. Confetti and tickertape blew haphazardly around in the gentle late evening summer's breeze. All was now quiet compared to the wild celebrations four to five hours earlier when Redbourne Rovers had celebrated the Conference title in front of around five thousand delirious fans. A huge banner still hung from the director's box emblazoned with the words

  "Redbourne Rovers Conference Champions 2005-2006".

  The goals still had red and black scarves tied to their crossbars by adoring fans from earlier. Outside of the stadium as darkness fell the last of the Sky television crews were dismantling their equipment after filming the historic scenes earlier in the day. In town, at a local hotel the Chairman was hosting a celebratory dinner for the team, directors and all the club staff (the club did not have a social club for it had been that hard up). Outside the hotel some diehard fans still waited hoping for a glance at their heroes bedecked in the red and black shirts that had become so well known in the season just gone.

  Miles Grimley the chairman was a proud man as he stood up to speak and a little drunk if truth be known. The champagne had been flowing in copious amounts since the final whistle and players and club staff alike were getting more drunk and boisterous as the evening went on.

  "Everyone I will make this short"

  boomed Miles, seemingly slurring his words as the alcohol started to take effect. A raucous cheer erupted from the back of the room where most of the team were seated with their girlfriends and wives.

  "You can never make anything short. When are we getting our bonuses you tightwad?"

  jeered the club captain Jock Mcleish a dour Scotsman who had been with Redbourne Rovers for the last two years. He attempted to throw a bread roll at the chairman and overbalanced and collapsed back into his seat amid huge merriment from his team mates. Missing from the celebrations was the club’s iconic manager Terrance Fletcher who was widely tipped for great things in English footballing circles and his gorgeous young wife Ashleyene. He had gone home with what seemed to be food poisoning about an hour after the game had finished.

  "Bonuses”

  joked Miles

  "I must be getting amnesia! I would just like to thank everyone for their hard work and dedication this season. The team couldn't have done it without your help and support. Would you all like to raise your glasses in a toast?”

  Everyone staggered to their feet for the toast

  "The Rovers" boomed Miles”

  "Are going up”

  shouted the rest of the room as the cheers erupted again!

  The interview Miles had had with Sky Sports shortly after the final whistle had been far more formal than this, with Miles being quizzed at great length about his ambitions for the club and spending plans for the summer. The issue of the cost of ground improvements had also come into the conversation. Miles had not batted an eyelid, he was used to high stakes poker games and assured the interviewer that the necessary money for ground improvements would be available in order to allow Redbourne Rovers to take it’s rightful place in the football league at the start of the next season! Redbourne Rovers was a club going places was his final comment to the interviewer!

  Whilst the celebrations were getting more and more rowdy in town, up at Redbourne Rovers’ spiritual home in Pines Lane the rickety but quaint elderly stadium was now quiet the last of the television crews having departed. The night watchman had strangely not turned up for work which was unusual for him. Two men had though, dressed all in black with balaclavas covering their faces. They had arrived in a battered old Cortina with a trailer attached, which they had backed up to the rear entrance aptly named ‘The Country End’ because behind it were rolling fields leading to the local river. On closer inspection one would have noticed that the car was missing registration plates on the front and back. A crow bar forced the padlock on the double gates and they were in. The driver backed the car into the ground following the route that the emergency vehicles would take if needed almost to the edge of the pitch. Within the trailer were four drums of petrol. Working quietly and efficiently as a team they unloaded the drums onto trolleys. Sweating profusely under the black clothes for the night was very warm; the two men went from stand to stand. One would push and one would pour every few yards when the other stopped. The smell of petrol was over powering and they worked by the light of the moon and a small pocket torch when they went down below the stands.

  Nothing was spared in the historic old stadium which was actually a listed building such was its antiquity. Changing rooms, the manager's office, the ticket office and the club shop all were doused in petrol. After around forty five minutes hard work all four drums were empty. The drums were swiftly loaded back onto the trailer and the car drove out of the double gates and stopped about 100 yards from the ground. The two dark clothed figures still wearing gloves and balaclavas exited the car holding flare guns the type normally seen on the coast being used by lifeboats and coastguards. They nodded to each other took aim and fired twice each at the stadium behind them. The flares landed with a dull thud and a fizz.

  The two men waited until they were certain that the flames had taken a hold in each stand. Seeing a solid plume of smoke arising over the roofs of the stands and hearing the angry crackle of flames they were satisfied. Jumping back into the old Cortina they headed away from Pines Lane. About half a mile from the ground the road doubled back over the river before heading into town. Stopping on the bridge the two men jumped out and the empty drums were hurled into the dark river below. The bridge was the only access route to the ground and it was for this reason a rag was stuffed into the now open petrol tank. Walking a safe distance away from the car both men fired at it using the last of their flares. Their aim was unerring both flares entered the petrol tank within seconds of each other and the car exploded into flames. The two men jogged a short distance in the darkness to a nearby barn. Hidden there were two quad bikes, their escape route had been planned with military precision. Within minutes they were roaring across open countryside leaving a conflagration behind them.

  By now all four stands at Pines Lane were well alight the flames reaching high into the night sky. A series of loud explosions further disturbed residents of the nearby housing estate which was just over half a mile from the ground as the gas cylinders in the catering outlets beneath the stands exploded like mini rockets. Phone lines to the emergency services were going mad with a deluge of calls coming in from concerned residents. Both fire engines from the local station had been dispatched. Tearing up the only road to the ground at over fifty miles an hour the lead engine almost rammed the still smouldering Cortina as they came speeding blindly out of the dip before the bridge. They stopped just in time, tyres screeching with a matter of feet to spare! Ex
tinguishing the smouldering wreck of the Cortina was an easy task; the trained firemen put it out within minutes. Getting the wreckage off the road was another thing. The frustrated fire-fighters had to wait for twenty minutes for a recovery truck to get to them after frantic calls to their control room. By this time the fire at the stadium dominated the night sky with the flames shooting about fifty foot into the air destroying everything that they touched. Most of the crews on the two engines had been at the game earlier in the day and waited with a combination of great sadness and anger unable to do their jobs or save at this moment the home of the football club they loved.

  At last the road was cleared the blackened metallic skeleton of the Cortina having been pulled off the road by the recovery truck into a nearby field. There was no need to hurry now. Pines Lane had been an inferno now for over thirty minutes. As the convoy of two fire engines followed by a police car and a Sky TV crew got within sight of the stadium the main stand which was totally wooden and over a hundred years old collapsed into itself in an angry roar revealing an ash and debris covered pitch. The Sky TV crew couldn't believe their luck; they had stopped in the town of Redbourne for something to eat after their coverage of the game earlier in the day. Now they had a story that was even bigger! As his crews unloaded their hoses and equipment the fire commander surveyed the scene grimly. There certainly wasn't going to be much football played at Pines Lane in the foreseeable future he contemplated looking at a fiery scene of terrible devastation.

  Slowly, oh slowly the fire crews began to get the hellish inferno under control. The only side of the ground which was still standing was The Country End where the intruders had got in, the superstructure of this end was concrete and now a blackened husk, the seats having all vanished. All the other three sides of the ground had collapsed and were now black smouldering ruins being dampened down by the distraught fire crews. Held back by the police who were now arriving at the stadium in some numbers the Sky crew had now began filming live, their feed being eagerly devoured by late night viewers shocked and aghast at what they were seeing.

  The celebrations at The Redbourne Arms Hotel had been brought to an abrupt end some forty minutes earlier. The duty manager for the hotel had come up to Miles' table and whispered in his ear that there was a problem at the stadium. Miles asked him to explain himself in no uncertain terms

  "I can't hear lad it's too noisy in here!"

  "The stadium is on fire”

  he said speaking deliberately loudly to ensure that Miles could hear through the din, ironically the noise in the room had quietened for the first time in hours. Virtually everyone in the room heard the news as one and pandemonium broke out! It was a rush to the doors; everyone wanted to get outside and to see what was going on. There was not much to be seen from outside the hotel if truth be told. The ground was about a mile away to the west but there was strong smell of smoke in the air and emergency sirens could be heard in increasing numbers in the near vicinity. Miles Grimley however still sat at his seat on the top table. He had a certain image to keep and he deliberately lit the biggest cigar that he could find on the table. Slowly he dialled a local taxi firm and booked himself a taxi to take him up to Pines Lane. He had work to do, his day was far from over. He joined the turmoil outside of the hotel and found himself next to a now very sober and very serious club captain who looked on the verge of tears having heard the disturbing news like everyone else.

  "A terrible way to end a great day Jock. I am going up there now by taxi do you want to come?"

  said Miles considerately to his club captain.

  Jock embraced his chairman with gratitude. Outwardly Miles Grimley was showing signs of worry and nerves combined with frustration about the time the taxi was taking to turn up to take him to his beloved Pines Lane and what was happening up there. However inside of him he was wearing a very big smile. Some men were born to be actors and Miles was one of them!

  2

  Nothing Left But The Pitch!

  As the taxi got nearer to the Pines Lane the traffic got slower and slower due to the number of curious and worried local people that were inexorably drawn to the home of the town’s football club. The whole town by now knew of the fire, being such a close knit community. The fans, residents and business leaders alike were desperate for some good news before retiring for the night, on an occasion that should have been a day of great celebration. Many had seen the pictures beamed round the world by Sky and relayed by terrestrial new channels but they had to see the damage for themselves not quite believing that their football ground was no more! Groups of families and lads who had cut short their celebrations from the pubs were all walking up the only access road to Pines Lane and the rural avenue was incredibly clogged despite the lateness of the hour.

  This access to the ground had been one of the growing concerns that police chiefs had had about Redbourne Rovers potential entrance into the football league over the last few months of the season just gone. They knew that health and safety issues were going to be of paramount importance and a major problem on access issues on their own even if Miles Grimley kept his promise and all the ground improvements had been carried out over the summer.

  Miles could have got the taxi to stop and walked the last three to four hundred yards for Jock and him could both see the flashing blue lights of a police cordon ahead. However he was enjoying the attention and milking it for all he was worth! The crowd however was slowing for there was not much further for them to go and quite a few of them had noticed the taxi and realized who the occupants were. The whisper went round the masses who were almost standing still now as the taxi inched it’s way through

  “It’s the chairman and Jock Mcleish”

  An involuntary round of applause went up from the hundreds of concerned bystanders. By now the road had been cordoned off at its start by the police to prevent any more people making the late night walk for safety reasons. As the taxi crept nearer, Miles had his window down shaking hands with fans and reassuring them all in one. This was his club and he wasn’t going to miss any free publicity!

  The police officer didn’t want to let the taxi through; he had his orders and was sticking to them! Miles Grimley was not standing for this. He jumped out of the taxi and thundered at the officer

  “Don’t you know who I am?”

  his face as black as the clouds of smoke still coming up from one corner of the ground. The officer recognized him immediately as did the Sky crew who were just inside the cordon.

  “Sorry Mr Grimley “

  muttered the officer as the barriers were pulled aside.

  Once inside Miles’ organizing skills took over. It had been an exceptional day and was turning out to be an exceptional night albeit all for the wrong reasons for the club and town. The Chief Fire Officer for Redbourne found himself taking Miles, Jock and the Sky crew on an impromptu tour round the outside of the fire area. The fire crews were by now dampening down all areas with just wisps of evil smelling smoke drifting across the pitch at odd intervals. For once even Miles normally such a vociferous man was quiet awed by the destructive powers that had been unleashed.

  The local pubs in town had stayed open and their big screens were showing the feed from Pines Lane. Hardly a person spoke many had lumps in their throats and were hugging friends and loved ones as they listened and watched. The cameras captured the devastation in all its graphic horror and bleakness. The twisted blackened superstructure at The Country End which looked ready to collapse at any moment and the ruins of the three other wooden stands, damp blackened husks, a spray of water from the fire hoses adding to the almost surreal air of unreality for many! The most poignant heart rending picture of the lot for many was a shot of one of the goals half destroyed by the flames a Redbourne scarf hanging at a crazy angle from the remaining structure somehow miraculously untouched by the flames.

  Miles as he had walked round the ground had allowed the emotions to build within him and when he felt it appropriate, back in sight of
the police cordon and anxious fans he allowed the tears to come as he collapsed to the ground gazing in anguished pain looking back at the charred ruins of Pines Lane! As he planned this would be a picture that would be used by all the major papers in their sports sections on the Monday to come, the Sunday tabloids already being at press!

  Seemingly reluctantly Miles agreed to speak to Sky and 5 Live who by now had managed to get a mobile unit to the scene. He had managed the location superbly, right next to the police cordon with the interview being relayed to the approximately five hundred fans that were still pressed up against the police barriers! Standing next to him was Jock the club captain who was yet to utter a word since arriving back at the ground. Jock was a great motivator on the pitch and never stopped cajoling and geeing up his team mates in training and during games. However off the pitch he was a somewhat shy and private family man who normally preferred to shun the media limelight!

  The two of them stood in the lights of the Sky cameras with the radio mikes also being thrust at them by 5 Live. Miles was in his element being in the spotlight was what he lived for!

  “Mr. Chairman”

  stated the interviewer for Sky

  “Can you give us your reaction to this terrible tragedy?”

  “I think you saw my feelings about this awful tragedy fully just now on what should have been a day of great celebration for this town and its football club. I say this to all Redbourne Rovers fans out there listening to this, this is not the end of our football club it will rise like a phoenix from the ashes“

  Miles was secretly quite proud of that last quote and it received a rousing cheer from the gathered fans behind the police cordon! The interviewer allowing the cheers to subside continued

  “Miles do you feel there is any chance of football being played at Pines Lane again and have the authorities given you any indication of how the fire could have started?”