Review of Quickly Kevin; will he score? The 90s Football Show -

Quickly Kevin; will he score? The 90s Football Show

Winger (the sequel)

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“Winger by “Steve Bruce” The winter wind rushed into the Indian restaurant as I pushed the samosur around my plate. This kind of food is commonplace nowadays, but back when I was growing up anything other than Egg and Chips was considered exotic. Still, times move on and we seem to get everything from further afield nowadays; food, cars….footballers. “Eat up Steve, you’ve barely touched anything…is something wrong?” My wife pried. “Just football, you wouldn’t understand….but…If only we had kept Cabral” I replied**. She shook her head and looked out the window, she had heard all of this before. My career at Leddersfield Town was stalling, after achieving promotion last year against all the odds, we were 6 months into our inaugural National Premier League season, and now in January 2001, were staring down the barrel of relegation. Relegation….the forbidden word. Sir Lawrence, the chairman, had died from liver complications whilst taking a mid-afternoon siesta after the promotion party. This rocked the club further, after a season containing; two murders, a false kidnapping and the assistant manager being jailed. I had pressed on irrespective and the lads seemed to bounce back with little to no fuss. The problems really began however when the board got involved with our transfer business. “He has to go, he is one of our most valuable players and he is becoming a sideshow for the tabloid press” I was told, regarding Cabral our star centre half. This was true, Cabral's behaviour was beginning to spiral out of control, even though he was still making a positive impact on the pitch. He had recently been pictured by the paparazzi stumbling from a nightlclub, with a blonde on each arm. This is disgraceful behaviour, and certainly not the kind of example I would be expecting a professional footballer to set. I would certainly never engage in lewd activity such as this, even though it would be possible with my considerable influence in Leddersfield. It just would not sit right, not when I have to look the fans in the eye before, during or even after a match. In addition to this, my Wife and Children would be devastated. Even so, I’m no sycophant. I wasn’t about to let the decisions be pulled from out of my remit without a fight just to please some suits, and stood my ground with the board. However, upon further reflection I realised the the board were likely justified. If a player is burning the candle at both ends, eventually; that candle will burn out. “Yes sir” I replied to the representative, although I believe he detected the defiance in my voice. Telling Cabral he had to go back to Brazil was as difficult a task as I have had to face since becoming a football manager, disregarding the multiple homicides. “But Steffa Barnsa, I do not want go, I happy here. I learn English and improve, I best player for Leddersfield and have girlfriend expecting child”. I could just about tell through his broken English the he wanted to stay, but this wasn’t a possibility, and the transfer back to Brazil was thrashed out quickly and efficiently. As I thought about this, my mobile telephone lit up and began to vibrate. I picked it up, it felt good in the hand. Amazing that a few short years ago this kind of thing would require a battery pack to power it, and now could fit into an average sized pocket with minimal discomfort. I checked the LCD screen for the contact name as it flashed, Peter Penrice, one of my oldest and closest friends…I answered. “Hello, Steve Barnes speaking”. “Hi Steve” said Peter Penrice. We engaged in some light banter. “Peter bloody Penrice, how are you doing?”. “Fine Steve, yourself?”. “Yes Im fine” I replied, chuckling. “Fancy a pint? I bet you could do with one with your recent form, surely this is the winter of your discontent”. I didn’t know what this meant, but made a note to look at this later. “No problem, I’ll be at the pub in fifteen minutes, maybe less if I can get the foot down in the Merc”. “No rush, but with the power in a nice car like the Mercedes CL-series I’d say you’d get here with some pace, see you soon”. As I paid the bill and put my wife into a taxi, my conversation with Peter Penrice replayed over and over in my mind, with one word echoing louder and louder: Pace. Pace…a spark, someone who could turn the game on its head, lift the crowd off its feet and provide some service to our languid front line. It could turn our season around…if only we could raise the finances to fund a player like this. This wouldn’t be an easy task, after Sir Lawrence had died, his son Mick had sold off nearly every one of the clubs assets in order to balance the books. Little did I know that in just a few short hours, my own life would be hanging in the balance. **To find out more to this, please refer to Defender by Steve Bruce”Read full review »

NickCatT22 via Apple Podcasts · Great Britain · 02/15/20

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