‘Hello, Jim?’ I said.
‘Is that you Sid?’
‘Aye, can you do me a favour?’
‘I don’t know. You’ll have to tell me what it is first.’
I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked out onto the pitch again.
‘Sid?’
I put the phone to my ear again. ‘I’ve been sold, Jim.’
I weren’t going to turn up, simple as that. Fuck ‘em if they wanted me to sign for them, it was their problem. I were no B-list star. I were Albion Town through and through and I weren’t going to be carted off as some Italian Stallion for their enjoyment. And one thing I really don’t like is firecrackers going off on terraces: they shit me up, no end, so there’s plenty of reasons why this move is a bad move, if you know what I mean.
But after I’d spoken to Jim, he told us to calm down a little and assess the situation on its own terms. He said that I should at least turn up and hear what the Italian delegation had got to say because that would give us a better idea of what were in store. It were also lucky for us that he’d agreed to represent us in front of the Italians, although he said he were just doing it this one time.
So the meeting took place at the Albion Suite with three darkly-dressed blokes who spent most of the time kissing the tips of their fingers and thumbs and then releasing them to say, ‘Aaah, the beauty of Bergamo’. They showed us some brochures and talked about Trevor Francis a lot, who were a former player at the club. In fact, they spoke about him so much that I thought I were moving to Birmingham instead. The brochure, however, were ruined because one of the poor fellas shed the odd tear or two: if that were the price of relegation I didn’t want it, thanks very much. They also showed us the blue and black striped shirt, which I whispered were a bit like Inter Milan, although I took that back when one of them spat on the floor at the mere mention of the name.
But it were the signing-on fee that put a doubt in my head. I asked them to put it into pounds and pence and it turned out to be a cool quarter mill. This kind of cash could end any debt issues and also give us enough to spend on Ruki while ensuring my Audi R8 were shipped over to Italy in good time. There were also the guarantee of regular football, which I weren’t getting here; sitting in the dead zone were soul-destroying.
So I left the meeting more confused than before, but it were lucky that Jimmy were around to make things simple. He came out of the Albion Suite, zipped up his coat and said, ‘It may not be AC Milan, but nor is this. I’ve been checking their stats over the years and they’ll probably get back to the big league soon. You’ll have a relegation battle here every season from now on, so that has to be factored in.’
Clear as mud. But at least Jimmy were here in my time of need. Where were Abujee and the rest of my family? Obviously, I hadn’t asked them to come but I felt strangely distant from them. Would I miss them? Maybe. But if I stayed I would miss the money more.
I got back to the house and were just about to call Ruki and tell her about the transfer when Abujee suddenly popped up at the front door. He stepped in without saying hello or anything and headed into the living room. He took out his wristwatch from his waistcoat pocket and glanced at it before putting it back in.
‘Namaz time, is it?’ I asked, shutting the door.
He sighed wearily. ‘I hear you’re moving to Italy.’
Now Granny Fatima used to say there were no ‘famine in the family fandango’ which meant that every secret, whisper, rumour or outright porkie would whistle around to every nosey parker in no time.
‘Who told you?’ I asked, walking away to sit down on the computer.
‘Who do you think? Jim told Emily, she told Shazia…and you can guess the rest.’
I sat down and tucked my knees under the desk. ‘What do you care anyway?’
He walked up behind us and I could feel his breath on my neck. ‘Running away with Rukhsana won’t do you any good…’
‘What are you on about?’ I sniffed.
‘People are saying things,’ he said, walking away towards the window. ‘Mrs Latif has tried to kill herself a few times and she’s blaming us, our family.’ He turned and walked back. ‘You need to understand how this looks for us.’
I’ll tell you how it looked from Shaw Crescent. Beefy Botham were right, the best place for that old hag were in Pakistan. There were a few more ways to kick the bucket over there – and no-one would give a shit either. Here she squeals and the pigs, the press and support groups are there to give her maximum attention. She should be put on the next plane to Islamabad.
I clicked onto Ruki’s website. ‘What do you care anyway?’
‘If only you knew…’
‘What?’
He paused and then walked towards us again. ‘Look Sadiq,’ he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. ‘There’s something you need to know…’
It must have been the first time he’d touched us for years. But it still didn’t feel as good as a team-mate’s hand on my shoulder after I’d laid on a goal at Starcot Lane. Although, Lassie’s hand probably didn’t feel too good after I blew out a greenie which nearly made his fingers stick together.
‘If it’s something about Yousuf, I don’t want to know…’
He put his other hand on my other shoulder. ‘No, it’s something more important…’
My mobile rang – the 786 again.
Abujee didn’t look best pleased. I walked into the kitchen and answered it.
‘Hi, it’s Rukhsana…’
‘It’s great you called, because I’ve got something to tell you…’
‘No, listen I’ve got some news about the ball…I think we’ve found it.’
‘Aw fuck the ball,’ I said, opening the fridge and picking out a bottle of Lucozade Wild Berry.
She tutted. ‘What’s up with you now?’
‘Nowt,’ I said, taking a swig and peering through the door to see what Abujee were doing. ‘It’s just Abujee’s here and he’s doing my head in…’
‘Well, I’m going down to The Bleeding Heart pub now, because they reckon they’ve got it.’
‘Reckon?’
‘The landlord thinks it’s in the storage cupboard…so we’ll find out.’
‘Look I’ve got to tell you something more important than that.’
‘Are you coming or not?’
‘It’s Friday night, shouldn’t we go down on a quieter day?’
She hesitated. ‘I can’t waste any more time…mama’s right on the edge. After Yousuf going, she’s the worst she’s ever been. Maybe, father left a message for her or something. Anyway, if you’d taken more care of the ball, then we wouldn’t have this wild goose chase now, would we?’
I were taking very good care of the ball until your father told us he were about the kick the bucket. It were nicely tucked away in my boot and it were him that took it out and played silly buggers with it at Starcot Lane. Obviously, when he said he were off to see Allah, it were a massive shock and I forgot all about the lusty leather. It weren’t my fault that the medic came along and nicked it. I mean, I know they like fiddling with balls but this were a big one they should have left alone.
I put the cap back on the bottle and placed it back in the fridge. I watched Abujee walking towards the kitchen.
‘Okay, give us a few minutes.’
The pub were absolutely heaving when we walked in. There must have been about 50 or 60 people stood up with filled-up glasses in their hands, twittering away like the sound coming from the stands prior to kick-off. We jostled our way to the front and stood by the bar. Two people were serving by the bar: a tall, overweight man wearing a blue v-neck jumper and a small woman with blonde permed hair.
‘That’s Rob,’ said Rukhsana, pointing him out. ‘He said his pub team took the ball home after a game with The Lifers.’
‘I fuckin’ hate these places,’ I said, keeping my head down.
She looked round at us and smiled. ‘God,
do you ever go anywhere without that damn beanie hat?’ She tried to take it off my head.
‘Get off,’ I said, securing it with my hand. ‘It’s my protection.’
Ruki eventually got Rob’s attention after about five minutes. He walked over and ran his fingers through his short, spiky hair.
‘Evening lovers…’ he said. ‘What you sinking?’
‘Hello Rob, I’m Rukhsana…I called earlier, about the ball?’
‘…And that’s Sid ain’t it? Well, I never…Showbiz Sid, in my boozer. I feel like announcing it to the whole pub.’
So what if I announced you as Randy Rob, Mr Landlord, to the whole world rather than just the punters in here? I don’t know if you burst into brothels for some bush and bevy but I can’t remember the last club ‘Showbiz Sid’ went into. Don’t believe everything you read because tabloid tits make it up as they go along. One of them even said I’d had a three in a bed romp with two air stewardesses in a hotel at Mannie Airport. One of the stewardesses were so pissed she couldn’t remember who she’d invited in. She named us and there were juicy details across five-pages with pics of me looking up for it after a night out at Tiffs. But later the paper apologised and said it were Lassie instead. I got a two paragraph apology but I were still ribbed mercilessly in and around town. They shouted ‘He was as Karimy as hot chocolate’ whenever I walked in to a shop, bar or restaurant. It were very distressing.
Rob carried on smiling at us and then rubbed his forehead. ‘Look, it’s a bit busy right now, could you come back at the weekend?’
‘Well it’s only in the back isn’t it?’ asked Rukhsana, looking beyond the bar area.
‘Yes, but I think it might take a while to find it.’
‘What do you mean?’
Rob looked around at a woman rustling a twenty pound note. ‘Yes, luv, I’ll be with you a minute…’ He turned to us again. ‘Okay, just let me serve this lady, then I’ll have a quick look…’
We waited for about ten minutes until he were free. By this time, I’d had at least 20 stares from gawper paupers who’d either recognised us, hated us or still hadn’t worked out who I were. He then ushered us out back and it were nice to get away from all that sweat and noise. We stopped when we reached a little white door by the stairs. He bent down and yanked open the door because it rubbed against the thick carpet below.
‘Pooawhh,’ he sniffed, holding his nose. ‘It’s dusty down here…’
‘It’s in here is it?’ asked Rukhsana.
He stood up but still had to stoop over to get into the front of the cupboard. I looked in and could see a big wooden chair lying on top of a fridge with a kid’s high chair and swing lying at either side. There were also loads of toys pressed against either side but the whole space were so crammed that everything looked as though it were bolted in.
Rob moved forward and put his hand on the wooden chair. ‘Jesus, there’s so much stuff in here…’ He wiped his brow. ‘I’ve fuckin’ told Valerie about this, but she won’t listen. This is going to take a while.’ He looked around at me and smiled. ‘Sid, you can penetrate defences, I think you should get in there.’
‘No thanks, it were her idea anyway.’
Rukhsana tutted and gave us a cold look. She put one hand on her hip and looked at Rob. ‘So how long is this going to take?’
Rob sighed and sized up the task in hand. ‘I can’t do it now, love, we’re too busy. Give us a couple of weeks and I’ll fish it out for you.’
Rukhsana shook her head. ‘You said it’s been there from before Christmas…’
‘That’s right, we were playing these pansies from the pub in town and they had two balls. We all came back for a drink later – including their lads – and one of them left the ball under the table. I spotted it at closing time and it’s been in this cupboard ever since.’
‘Fine,’ said Rukhsana. ‘It would have been nice to get it now…but hey, you can’t have everything.’
Rukhsana began to walk away as Rob closed the door. ‘Not staying for a drink then? I’m sure Sid’s got a lot of tales to tell…’
‘He can stay if he wants to, but I’m off,’ she said, with hardly a look back.
Charming. I hold her mitts while she pops off on her daft treasure hunt and now she tells us I’m not needed. I wouldn’t give two if that stupid ball stayed in that fuckin’ cupboard after all. I mean, what’s so special about it? If Ibrahim wanted to tell us something why didn’t he just use his cakehole rather than lob it inside a football? I don’t like the inside of anything anyhow, I just kick, eat and run. Even when my hernia went two years ago, I had to be hypnostised before I were opened up and sewn back up again. I don’t know what they did, but I couldn’t see it so it didn’t matter.
‘Er thanks anyway,’ I said to Rob, who were looking at Ruki in a funny way. ‘Don’t mind her, she’s under a lot of stress.’ He turned and looked at us in the same way. ‘Her dad’s popped it, her mum’s suicidal and her husband’s ran off…’
‘Right…’ he smiled. ‘And you’ve popped up to score have you?’
‘Not quite.’ I said, watching her disappear into the front of the pub. I grinned and walked off. ‘Well, not yet anyway.’
I caught up with her as she hurried out of the pub. ‘Wait on,’ I said, jostling through the crowd again. I stepped outside and there were a light drizzle, so I took off my beanie hat to feel some of it on my warm forehead.
She stopped and leaned against the wall. She looked up at the sky and sighed. ‘I think it’s something to do with me…in that ball. I’ve driven myself crazy thinking about the whole thing. It must be something terrible or else he would have told me.’
‘You’re just paranoid. Look, I’ve got to tell you something.’
A man on a motorbike parked near the kerb a few yards away. He turned off the ignition and picked up a red bag behind him. He walked up to the pub and were about to walk in when I stopped him.
‘Is that a jalapeno and tuna?’
‘Yeah…’
‘For Sid?’
He nodded his head and slipped the large pizza out of the red bag. He handed it over to us and I felt the bottom of the white box warm up my hands.
‘Ere are…’ I said, handing him a £20 pound note. ‘Keep the change.’
He slotted the note into his bum-bag, walked back to his bike and drove off.
‘Fuckin’ cheeky bastard,’ I said. ‘I must have given him a six-quid tip there…’
‘Who’s that for anyway?’
I opened the box and the steam from the piping hot pizza made my eyes water. ‘…That’s what I wanted to talk you about. Here, take a slice.’ I eased the box towards her.
‘I’m not really hungry,’ she said, still picking up a slice.
I picked up the biggest slice and took a bite.
‘Do you like Italy?’ I asked.
‘Oooh, that’s hot,’ she said, with a mouthful.
‘Do you like Italy?’
Her munching didn’t allow an instant answer. ‘Yes…so what?’
‘I think we should move down there. Milan or somewhere near there. It’ll be great.
‘Have you lost it or something?’
I looked further down the road at a parked Volvo, which were making the only sound with its stop-start windscreen wipers.
‘The club’s decided to sell us to an Italian club. I said no at first but it’s probably a good deal. I want you to come and live with us.’
‘Gosh,’ she said, munching a bit slower. ‘That’s a lot to take in.’ She paused for a moment and looked down at the damp pavement. She swallowed and then walked up to me. She kissed me on the cheek and walked off slowly. ‘I’ve had one arrangement that hasn’t worked…I don’t think this arrangement will work either.’
TWENTY
So it were all set. I wouldn’t officially move till the summer but I’d fly out to Bergamo after the last game of the season to have a look around. Bo
wker and Mr Starmer were the only two people at the club who knew about it and the first training session with the lads after ‘the meeting’ were just like any other.
But as I walked into the changing room at Royds after the session, Molly were sat down on the bench with the Evening Chronicle on his knees. He looked up at us but quickly put his head down again and carried on reading. I walked up closer to him and sat down.
‘What kind of shit’s in there today, then?’ I said, bending down to undo the laces on my boots.
He didn’t answer and just handed us the paper. I slowly took it from him and looked at the front page.
SID’S ITALIAN JOB
Transfer sensation: Homegrown winger Sid Karim
to move to Atalanta at end of season
Exclusive by Jimmy Hassett & Tom Berger
I didn’t even read the start of the story and handed the paper back to Molly. I took off my boots and socks and rubbed the soles of my feet on the cold tiles. Even if my head were spinning like a ref’s wig at least my feet were being soothed.
‘Good money is it?’ asked Molly.
‘I were as shocked as you. Mr Starmer wanted it to happen…’
‘And you didn’t?’
Molly slapped the newspaper down next to him and got up. He took off his training top and threw it down on the bench. ‘Obviously being club captain counts for nothing round here…to find out about a transfer from a rag like that just isn’t on. Anyway how come Jimmy’s byline’s on the story, I thought he’d retired.’
‘So did I.’
That’s all I said and I could say. I got changed in five minutes and drove straight down to 12 Brimley Gardens. I knocked on the door but there were no answer. So I drove down to Hassetts. It were still packed, as it were lunchtime, and Emily had her hands full. She told us Jimmy were next door at Rod’s Odds. I walked in and there he was standing in front of a TV monitor in the far corner watching a race. There were only three other men in there and, as ever, the place looked dark, dingy and uninteresting.
Season of Sid Page 27