Page 133 of Playing to Win

These dickheads are not my people, he thought as he shoved his way through.Then again, maybe today, everyone’s a dickhead. Including me.

Then Liam’s and Robert’s voices thundered forth, spouting East End Glaswegian threats and insults faster than even Colin could decipher. The mass of flesh began to push back against him, retreating, and finally he broke through.

Andrew was safe, his T-shirt askew but not torn. Colin hugged him quickly. “You all right?”

“Yes, thanks to your mates. Where were you?”

Colin held up his phone. “Being a social-media-obsessed eejit. Sorry.”

“Oi, itisLord Andrew!”

They turned to see four well-dressed Unionists stalking over. The one at the front carried a handmade poster reading BRITISH NOT SCOTTISH. He stopped several feet from Andrew and pointed at him. “You’re a traitor to your country!”

Andrew lifted his chin, falling back into his default imperious mode. “I did what I thought right. So did you. Time to move on.”

“Move on? You lot almost destroyed the Union!” the guy shouted in what sounded like a English Midland accent. “No forgiveness, no mercy.”

“At least these Nats were honest,” one of the other Unionists said to Andrew, “but you pretended to be on our side. All along, you were secretly the enemy.”

“I wasn’t secretly anything. Like many others, I simply changed my mind.” Andrew met the man’s stare. “Perhaps one day, so will you.”

This seemed to enrage the Unionists more than anything. They stepped forward as one.

Colin rushed in front of Andrew. “Gonnae no touch him!”

“Aww, look, it’s the rent boy in shining armor,” said the poster-wielding guy.

“I’m getting the cops,” Katie said.

“Why? We’re just having a wee chat.” The lead wanker came eye-to-eye with Colin and lowered his voice. “Isn’t that right…faggot?”

Colin laughed. “Och, mate, you think I’ve not been called that a thousand times in my life?” He rapped the side of his own skull. “It doesnae get through anymore.”

The guy’s face twisted in confusion, so Colin brought out his proof. “Look. Battle scars.” He displayed the tattoos on his arm, first the unicorn. “Compound fracture, bullies, age thirteen.” Then the thistle. “Razor, myself, age fourteen through sixteen. And occasionally after. So if you think one wee word like ‘faggot’ will cow me, you’re off your head, man.” He spread his arms wide. “Gies a hug the now, eh?”

“No.” The guy stepped back. “You’re the one off your head. You’re a nutter.”

“Aye, I’m the nutter.” Colin raised his arms high, tattoos facing forward, and advanced on the Unionists. “I’m the bam! I’m the bam!”

They backed away, clearly freaked out by Colin’s complete lack of self-preservation. Real thugs wouldn’t have been fazed, but he’d bet on these idiots being nothing more than casual bullies.

“Leave them alone, Union scum!” The lass in the blue Yes shirt streaked past him. Andrew’s original attacker was now…defending them?

Her handful of minions streamed behind her, pushing Andrew and Colin forward. Colin reached for Andrew’s hand, but it slipped from his grasp as the crowd pulled them apart. The force of shoves rose with the volume of shouts, and the world began to spin.

“Stop!” Colin shouted, trying to get his bearings. “Let us go, we don’t want this!”

The big lad in front of him surged back suddenly, pushed from the front. He fell against Colin’s left leg, hitting his knee, at the same angle Katie had tackled him three months ago.

Colin went down, pain wrenching his leg. Had there been a pop? He couldn’t hear it over the shouts of “Bloody Nats!” and “Fuck your Union!”, but it felt like there’d been a pop. His ligament, shot again, after all these weeks of rehab.

He had a fucking match tomorrow. He was supposed tostart.

Yes or No, John had said,there’ll always be the football.But this clash of cretins had stolen that from Colin too.

As he tried to crawl away, someone stepped on his fingers. Hurling words of rage and pain, he pushed through the sea of legs. He wanted to smash each knee around him, watch them buckle and snap. But he needed to find Andrew.

Finally Colin emerged into the light to see a mass of yellow-vested police officers separating the enemy crowds. To his surprise, he was nearly on the edge of the square now. Some force from the center was pushing everyone outward.

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