Page 15 of Playing the Field
He’s a natural sportsman and currently plays something different almost every night of the week, but Dad, Cassie and I believe if he focuses just on football he’ll get even better at it– and really quickly. We’ll be firm about him still devoting time to his education though. While Crawford might be a good talking point on his future CV, getting his Alevels is more likely to get him a job.
My least favourite conversation is with Craig, who flirts outrageously with me while I’m trying to establish his size so Olly can get the team kit ordered in time for the start of the season. Here is a man who has the confidence of the aesthetically gifted and I realise I’m going to have to establish very clear boundaries if I want him to treat me like a member of the management team and not someone he’s just met at speed dating.
Before I can even check if his existing commitments will be compatible with our proposed summer training schedule, he’s offered me a free life drawing session so I can see how he ‘performs’ off the pitch. Then he gives me way more detail than I need to know about the time he had a bucket of cold water thrown over him because he started to get an erection during a
session.
I’m sure the intention is to get me thinking about him naked, but I refuse to be drawn in. He may be broad-shouldered and square-jawed, with undeniably alluring caramel-coloured eyes, but I have no interest in mixing business with pleasure.
‘Just talk to me about the timing,’ I say firmly.
‘I usually work on Saturdays, but it won’t be a problem,’ he says. ‘My dad’s minted so I can easily knock it on the head. He hates me modelling anyway and I don’t need the money.’
I politely suggest he refrains from bragging about this to the rest of the team. I’m curious though. I can’t help wondering, when it comes to playing for Crawford, what’s in it for him?
‘To show Arsenal what they’re missing,’ he replies. And I nod, as if I agree, but I can’t imagine Arsenal will be paying any attention to what’s going on at Crawford United.
Wanting to wrap things up, I grit my teeth and tell him I look forward to having him at the first training session on Tuesday, to which he winks and says he’s looking forward to seeingme. I don’t react, I just end the call. I’m not about to let him– or any of the other players for that matter– unnerve me. Not that anyone else tries.
With each of the other calls I learn a little more about the new additions to our team. As I’ll be writing player profiles for our website, I ask a bit about their backgrounds and their interests, and I find it fascinating how different their lives are outside their love of football.
Jamie Green, our nineteen-year-old striker who will play alongside Craig, left school at sixteen with five GCSEs and now works on home renovations with his dad. His determination to learn everything so he can eventually set up his own business shows a maturity and work ethic that I hope will inspire his teammates to also want to be the best they can be.
In centre midfield we have our fiery Italian Nico Alessi, who is now a chef but played for his university team in Rome before his family relocated to London, along with Bailey Pryce, who works in IT. Yes, that’s the Bailey who I thought looked like the most unlikely footballer due to his petiteness, but stick a ball in front of him and a transformation takes place. He’s so fast, so light on his feet and so in control– and he modestly puts that down to just playing in his back garden with his older brother. I can’t help thinking it’s a shame his brother didn’t come and try out, too.
Our left and right wingers are Adio Adesina and Aaron Chapman. Adio is a banker and Aaron works at a gym. At twenty-nine, Aaron is our oldest player, but he’s been five-a-side obsessed forever and showed moments of brilliance during the tryouts. Adio played at a youth academy for two years, until his parents persuaded him to choose a more stable career. He doesn’t appear to have forgotten any of the skills he learned, though, and on top of that he seems dependable, likely to turn up on time and capable of keeping the others grounded.
In defence, we have Jacob, Thomas Miller, who’s between jobs, Levi Jones, who coaches tennis in the local parks to keep himself active and outdoors– his two favourite things– and Scott Sutherland, who set up his own company at the age of just sixteen selling fishing equipment online and is making a good living out of it.
Thomas has a melodic Irish lilt that I could listen to all day– I can’t imagine anyone not falling in love with it. Or him, for that matter. At the tryouts we all noticed how considerate he was towards the other players on the pitch and how his smile rarely leaves his face. I’ve secretly nicknamed him The Caretaker because I’m already convinced he’ll be the one who’ll diffuse any tension on the pitch, check on any injured players that go to ground and sweet-talk the referee if anyone steps out of line. He’s a solid wall of muscle who looks as if he might be better suited to rugby, but he has an absolute heart of gold. He’ll make a great team captain.
And last but not least there’s our goalie, Elliot Simmons– six foot six and so self-assured I don’t think he’d be fazed even if an eighty-tonne elephant was charging full pelt down the pitch at him. Like Adio, he briefly played at a youth academy, but at that age he struggled with the competitiveness. He works ‘in insurance’ now, but never stopped wondering what might have been and he couldn’t be happier about the opportunity we’ve dropped into his lap.
And that’s our team– this jumble of players who don’t even know each other’s names yet. I look at all the notes I’ve made during the calls and can’t help feeling immensely proud. Crawford United is now a living, breathing entity. And boy does that feel great.
10
Just thirty-three hours later, Dad and I watch from the sidelines as Cassie kicks off our first ever full training session. Straight away she makes it very clear she’s the boss as she addresses the players fanned out in a semicircle in front of her, despite most of them towering over her.
‘You’re not always going to agree with my methods. Some of you have been to the top academies in the country and might think you know better than me. But you’re not there now, you’re here, and I expect the same respect from you that you’d give a coach at Manchester United. Understood?’
She doesn’t make it obvious she’s directing it at anyone in particular, but as both of us have now had a taste of Craig’s flirty comments, I’m fairly sure this is mostly intended for him.
The players, who are dressed in a mishmash of sports gear, from Jacob’s Arsenal shirt– which must be galling for Craig– to Elliot’s black running vest, all nod in agreement.
‘Good, then let’s get warmed up and after that we’ll work our way through short passes, long passes and set pieces. We’ll do some body conditioning work at the end, but I expect each of you to take responsibility for your own physical fitness. Over the next couple of sessions I’ll be drawing up an individual programme for each of you to work on in your own time, at the gym if you have access to one, at home if you don’t. We’re already close to the end of May, which means we’ve got about seventy-five days to prepare before the first game of the season. Let’s make them all count.’
I make a mental note to approach the local gyms about potential player discounts– then nearly jump out of my skin as Dad’s phone starts shrilling in his hand. Cassie shoots an unimpressed look our way, and he raises a hand in apology before excusing himself to take the call.
‘And one more thing,’ Cassie says sternly, turning back to the players. ‘Absolutely no phones at training. Your penalty is laps. We’ll start with two now. Let’s go!’
As they head off round the perimeter, I double-check mine’s on silent. I’m going to be filming a lot of the session, so there’s an exception to the phone rule for me. But I don’t want to interrupt Cassie’s flow again.
Dad is still not back by the time she has warmed the players up and started them on shadowing practice. I didn’t think anything would take him away from watching the session today so it must be serious. But I put it out of my mind so I can stay focused on filming the nominated followers trying to stay within a metre of their leaders.
I’m so absorbed that I don’t look up when someone moves in beside me and says, ‘They don’t look too shabby.’ It’s not Dad’s voice, but we did tell Barbour and a few of our other supporters that they were welcome to come and watch, thinking it might help the team get used to playing in front of spectators. It’s not Barbour either, though– it’s not a voice I’m familiar with.
‘If she can just get them to stop trying to outdo each other, like they’re still at the tryouts, and get them to work together as a team...’ the man continues, which instantly gets my back up. It’s Cassie’s first adult training session and I won’t hear a bad word said about it.
