Page 1 of Playing the Game
ONE
ADAM
Adam Williams walked off the pitch soaking with sweat. The Spanish sun had been brutal. They were a world away from Brockton. The northern English mill town they called home.
I swear I’ll never complain about the rain again.
Adam had spent most of the summer break in Ibiza with some of his teammates and had gotten used to the heat. Even so, playing in it was a different matter.
A few Brockton fans waved from the away supporters’ section. It touched him that they’d travel internationally to watch them play in a friendly.
He returned the favour. At six foot three, Adam wasn’t easy to miss. His dark blond hair had lightened from his holidays, contrasting with his dark beard.
Udo Holtmann walked beside him. They’d been in Bilbao for a couple of days to train before the game. It was a great way of getting back into the groove of playing before the English season began in a couple of weeks.
After a difficult start at Brockton, Udo seemed to be glowing.
“Hey, Udo,” one of the fans shouted. “Great goal today, lad.”
Udo blushed and nodded.
It was a far cry from the grief he’d had a few months previously when he’d been cruelly outed in the national media. Of course there were still many people with views on his place in the team.
It was usual for the scorer to do the media but Adam offered to deal with the reporters on his own. As captain, he felt it was his responsibility to protect all the players.
Twenty minutes later he was regretting that.
A raft of cameras and journalists were staring at him. Some with open hostility.
I should have got one of the others to come with me.
“You have three gay players joining the ranks of Brockton for this season,” Ray Jones from FC Magazine sneered. “How do you feel about that?”
During the time that Udo and assistant coach Steven Cox’s new relationship had been in the spotlight, Brockton’s manager, Javier Tosar, had declared the club a safe space for all players regardless of their sexuality.
Interestingly, three major football stars had put in transfer requests to Brockton.
“Who says they’re gay?” Adam replied. “You should know better than to assume.”
A ripple of amusement swept through the small crowd.
“Does it bother you?” another person asked.
“Why would it?”
Howard Clooney, the Director of Communications at Brockton FC, would be proud of him. He’d trained most of the players in how to deal with reporters.
“Does anyone have any questions about something else?” Adam asked. He wanted to make it clear that this was not the only topic of conversation available.
“Yes,” a female reporter answered. “After your public breakupwith Jennifer Gibson last year, is there anyone special in your life?”
Adam sighed. “I meant questions about football. For the record, no, there isn’t anyone.”
Thankfully, the topic did shift to the beautiful game and Adam spent another half an hour fielding them. It was more exhausting than spending ninety minutes on the pitch.
Once he’d done and been led out of the media room, he staggered down the corridor as though he’d survived ten rounds with an Olympic boxer.
“I hate doing shit like that,” he muttered.
