Page 81 of Playing the Field
We have an impressive sixty-two entries, but by the time we’ve run through them all, there are only two left on the shortlist. The one we finally select is a sweet little ditty from a fan called Antony Brierly, aged fourteen, which is short, easy to remember and we all agree captures the spirit of the club.
‘Ashes to glory, that’s Crawford’s story, among new friends, we rise again, Hamcott so long, here’s our new song, we’re all delighted, to be United.’
‘I actually really like it,’ Dad says, humming the tune again with a smile on his face.
We announce the winner on the website– awarding Antony a family season ticket– and include a cringey video of Dad, Cassie and me singing it, so the fans get to know how it goes. I send it out in our e-newsletter too. Time will tell whether anyone else makes the effort to learn it, but we all really hope it takes off.
Surprisingly it’s Georgina who initially starts Ben and me communicating again, after a kiss-and-tell appears online on the day after the Southmoor defeat in which she says she realised there was something wrong with their relationship when it became obvious he was avoiding sleeping with her.
‘There I was thinking he must be some kind of sex god because of all the women he’s been with, but it turns out he doesn’t even like doing it,’ she is quoted as saying.
He sends me the link on WhatsApp. No words, just the link. I presume it’s because he wants to prove there was never any intimacy between them.
‘Don’t like sex? You?’I type. Then I delete it, preferring to keep my reply light, and instead I write,‘I guess that’s blown your chances with Margot Robbie.’
‘I hope I can get a refund on my Ken costume,’he writes back, referencing her role in theBarbiemovie.
I can’t help smiling.‘Maybe see if they’ve got a Harry Styles you can exchange it for. Everyone loves a bit of Harry.’
He sends some party-popper emojis.‘Finally, I get to be in the boy band.’
It’s a sweet reminder of all the daft back and forths we used to have and it makes me miss him. Perhaps for the first time it gets me thinking about what I’d gain if we did rekindle our relationship. I don’t say as much to him though. I don’t want to give him false hope when I still don’t really believe it’s feasible.
It’s me who initiates our next conversation– after an email arrives in my inbox that is either the greatest birthday present I could ever dream up for my dad’s fiftieth birthday this week, or a cruel prank someone’s decided to play on my family. Even after I’ve read it three times I’m not still sure which, so I don’t know whether to be excited or exasperated by it.
I desperately want another opinion, but I don’t want to talk to Dad– or anyone else involved with Crawford for that matter– till I know whether or not it’s someone yanking my chain. Phoebs is out too, because I know she wouldn’t be able to keep it from Craig. So I use it as an excuse to ring Ben, because I know he’ll be able to look at it objectively.
‘This is a nice surprise,’ he says, when he answers my call.
‘I’ve been sent a weird email,’ I announce without preamble. ‘Can I read it to you? I need someone else to tell me if it sounds genuine.’
‘Okay.’ He sounds suspicious– as perhaps he should be. Because the email purports to be from the author Alasdair Frowley and its contents could have a huge impact on the future of Crawford United.
‘It starts off very believable,’ I tell him. ‘Frowley explains that he writes the Inspector Marlowe books andDying Dayson Netflix. Then it says, “What you might not know is that I spent some time in Hamcott in my youth and have followed Hamcott Park ever since.”’ But we did know that because Helen from theHeraldtold us about it.
‘He goes on to say he’s lost respect for the club since the owners started treating it like a profit-making machine, and that he still holds on to the romantic view that a football club should be the beating heart of a community– which is why he now wants to throw his support behind Crawford United. I’ll read you the rest...
‘“I would have been in touch sooner but I’ve been shut away on a six-week writing retreat so I’m only just catching up with what’s going on in the real world. And I was thrilled when I learned about Crawford United. I had a brief dabble with playing football at this level myself when I was younger– and a lot fitter– so I’m well aware how important these new clubs are to amateur players like me.”’
Then comes the exciting bit. ‘“It was hard enough back then for managers to keep their clubs going, so I can only imagine how tough it is now with the ever-changing regulations and escalating costs. The regulations I have no control over, but the costs are where I can hopefully make a difference.
‘“As you can see, life has taken me on a very different path since I was a young lad kicking a ball around on Hamcott Common and I now find myself in the very privileged position of having more money than I know what to do with. I’d like to use some of it to ensure Crawford Football Club keeps going– and, if I’m honest, to stick two fingers up at the owners of Hamcott Park.”’
And next comes the reason for my scepticism. ‘“So I’ll be making a significant donation to your crowdfund in the next few days and I wanted to give you a heads up first so you’re not alarmed when it drops in. Rest assured it comes with no strings attached. It’s a good old-fashioned gift from someone who’s been lucky financially and would like to pay it forward.”’
It concludes with: ‘“When I’m next back in Hamcott, after I’ve finished going over the latestDying Daysscripts, I’ll be sure to catch a Crawford United game. It would be an honour to meet the founders while I’m there too, should that be convenient. And in the meantime, come on The Phoenixes!”
‘So what do you reckon?’ I ask Ben, who’s stayed silent on the other end of the phone– either because he’s as stunned as I was or because he thinks it’s nonsense and doesn’t want to break it to me. ‘Obviously I’d love it to be real, but if Helen could find out Frowley was a Hamcott fan, anyone could, so it could just be the most elaborate wind-up ever written. And it does make me think of that old adage: if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.’
Ben puffs out a mouthful of air. ‘I hope for Crawford’s sake itisreal, but it does sound quite far-fetched. Have you looked at your crowdfund to see if this significant sum is showing up yet?’
‘I have and it isn’t. But the email does say in the next few days and I’ve only just received it.’
‘Have you tried confirming it via his agent?’
‘It’s four o’clock in the morning over there at the moment. I keep thinking, though, if this isn’t from Frowley, who would send it? Some of Dad’s friends must know he’s a massive Frowley fan, so this could be someone’s idea of a joke for his fiftieth. Or maybe they are going to make a donation but they want to do it anonymously.
‘I don’t think it’s a scam because the sender hasn’t requested our bank details for the transfer. And the only other person I can think of is Craig’s dad– masquerading as the author in another attempt to future-proof his son’s place on the team. But he definitely isn’t the type to hide behind an impersonation.’
