by Scott Allen
‘Wha’ you doing out there, Cruncher?’ he bellowed at Smasher. He always struggled to tell which one was which. They were both white, although Cruncher’s black nose flash should have made them impossible to mix up. ‘Their midfielder is all over you like a cheap suit; you’ve got to dominate the space, don’t let him have an inch.’
He moved on to Brian, who was cleaning his teeth with his tongue. ‘Wha’ you doing out there, sonny? Their striker is all over you like a cheap suit; you’ve got to dominate the space.’
Then he moved on to the Duke, who refused to look McCloud or anyone else in the eye, because he thought he was so posh. ‘Wha’ you doing out there, sonny?’ he yelled. ‘Their defender is all over you like a cheap suit; you’ve got to dominate the space.’
I never said his team talks were inspiring, did I? He went round the rest of the team saying pretty much the same thing, occasionally punching his fist into the palm of his other hand to really ram home the point. It was hard to tell if the llamas were actually listening to him or understood a word he was saying; they just displayed the same nonchalant and slightly arrogant look as always.
The second half kicked off in the same fashion as the last had finished, with Pirtsmouth dominating the play and doing all the attacking. Then, in the fifty-seventh minute, the unthinkable happened; one of the Pirtsmouth strikers headed a fairly ordinary corner into the net and wheeled away to celebrate his equalizer. What the referee hadn’t seen was the striker barging into Ludo to get him out of the way as the corner came in. Ludo looked surprised that such a thing had happened.
McCloud had seen it though and flew out of the dugout to begin shouting at the fourth official on the side of the pitch. But the goal stood. It was the first time Llama United had let in a goal. They didn’t really know what to do with themselves.
Tim dashed out to the side of the pitch and shouted encouragement to the llamas closest to him. He tried to ignore the horrible heavy feeling in his stomach.
‘Come on Lightning, come on Smasher, you can do it. Get the ball to Goal Machine. We can still win this!’
Cairo stood beside Tim, waving his hands about and pointing. He had no idea what he was actually doing, but he’d just seen other coaches do it and it looked professional.
The pair of llamas seemed to take Tim’s instructions a little too literally. Every time they got the ball they would ping huge, long passes to Goal Machine. Sadly, they were either miscontrolled by Goal Machine or over-hit. It was beginning to look like the match was going to go to a replay at the White Horse Stadium a week on Tuesday, which would be a night game. The White Horse Stadium didn’t have floodlights, which would certainly make it interesting.
Then, with two minutes to go, Lightning finally got her long range passing to click. Standing on the edge of the centre circle, she walloped a massive long ball over the entire Pirtsmouth midfield and defence. It looked as though the Pirtsmouth keeper was going to come out and comfortably gather it, but Goal Machine nipped in front and delicately diverted the pass around him, and the ball trickled into the corner of the net. 2 – 1! It wasn’t pretty, but they all count.
The baying Pirtsmouth crowd was silenced for the second time, and once again the feeble chanting of ‘U-NI-TED, U-NI-TED, U-NI-TED!’ could be heard from the ten Llama United fans.
Tim and Cairo forgot their high-five – they were too busy hugging and jumping up and down.
Pirtsmouth frantically pushed forward in the final moments of the game but it wasn’t enough. Llama United held on and booked their place in the second round.
The Pirtsmouth fans were not happy; they threw seats, burgers, plastic drinks bottles, tickets and programmes at their players as they left the pitch. Going out of the Cup in the first round was bad, but losing to a team of llamas was unforgivable.
Tim, Cairo, McCloud and Frank got the llamas and themselves out of the ground as quickly as possible. They didn’t want to experience the wrath of the angry Pirtsmouth fans either. Just as they were speeding out of the stadium gates, a huge man dressed in a Pirtsmouth top and covered from head to foot in tattoos stepped out in front of the van. Frank slammed on the brakes. The man started rummaging around his clothing.
‘Just drive at him, scare him off!’ yelled McCloud. ‘He’s got a gun in there or something.’
‘It’s a rocket launcher,’ shouted Cairo.
‘Quick, Dad, think of something, we’ve got to get out of here,’ cried Tim.
As Frank revved the engine the man pulled off his top to reveal a ‘Llama United Forever’ T-shirt. He then proudly raised two thumbs and stepped aside to let the van leave.
Llama United were not only winning matches, they were starting to win friends as well.
23
KICKED OUT!
Tim and Frank were sitting in the kitchen having some breakfast the following Saturday morning when there was a loud knock at the door. It was McCloud, but his face was bright red and his lips were pursed so tightly you could hardly see them. He was waving a piece of paper in his hand as he marched into the kitchen.
‘Look at this! It’s a disgrace, a joke, an absolute farce!’ He threw the paper down on the kitchen table.
Tim picked it up and began to read out loud. The letter was on the Cup governing body’s headed notepaper and felt thick and expensive to the touch.
The Governing Body was a really friendly place to work. They did a bit of looking after football in the morning, and then, after a big lunch, they’d sit down and talk about cakes until it was time to go home.
Tim could feel himself trembling with rage as he read. ‘What the . . . they can’t do that, can they?’
‘It looks like they can, laddie,’ said McCloud miserably.
Frank grabbed the letter from his son. ‘What is law four anyway?’
McCloud grimaced again. ‘I looked it up, and it’s something to do with players’ equipment.’
Tim shook his head furiously; he wasn’t ready to give in. ‘That doesn’t make sense. There’s nothing wrong with our equipment.’
‘My guess is that they’ve complained because the llamas don’t wear a full kit. They only wear a shirt – nae shorts, socks or boots,’ replied McCloud.
‘That’s so unfair,’ cried Tim. ‘What kind of football team goes and moans at the governing body to get us kicked out of the Cup, just because they lost . . . what spoilsports!’
‘That’s professional football for you, son; naebady wants to lose to a team of llamas, do they? This is an easy way for them to get back in the competition and stop looking so stupid.’
‘Can’t we challenge the decision?’ said Frank to McCloud. ‘We can only keep the farm running if we are still in the Cup.’
‘Aye, I’m sure we can, but that could take ages and would cost a load of money with lawyers and all that. The second round is in only three weeks’ time.’
‘This is a nightmare! We haven’t got the money for that, or for anything, to be honest,’ said Frank, slumping back into his chair.
Tim couldn’t hold back his frustration any longer. ‘We have to fight this,’ he said, banging his fist on the table.
‘But how, laddie?’ asked McCloud, slumping down into a chair opposite the one Frank was slumping in.
‘I don’t know,’ replied Tim, staring at the floor in despair.
‘Ahem, ahem,’ said a voice in the doorway. It was Monica, again, holding her laptop.
‘You know all the Llama United fans around the world won’t stand for this.’
‘We’ve only got a handful of fans. There were only ten at the last match, and four of them were you, your mum, your sister and Molly,’ said Frank miserably.
‘That’s just because we haven’t worked out how to sell tickets properly yet,’ replied Monica. ‘What about all the fans that look at our website? We’ve got tonnes of them. We’ll get a social media campaign going that will make the Governing Body change its mind. I can get it set up this afternoon.’
So, with no h
elp whatsoever from Frank or McCloud, that’s exactly what Monica did. However, the internet wasn’t working on Saturday, so she had to wait until Sunday afternoon to get it all ready. I could say Tim helped her, but all he did was make ‘Mmm, not bad’ and ‘I like that’ noises, which added very little. Oh yes, Cairo also came round, but he was no use whatsoever.
24
SAVE LLAMA UNITED
This bit could have been really boring, including reams of tedious stuff about social media strategy, gaining followers and hashtags . . . but luckily I fell asleep watching Monica at work, so I think it would be best to just skip through it.
‘I think we are nearly ready to launch this,’ said Monica, putting the finishing touches to a fantastic picture of Tim and Cairo giving Ludo a big hug.
Monica and Tim had hardly moved from the screen for the last five hours, while Cairo was on his four-hundredth spin of the swivel chair he was sitting on and his sixth carton of blackcurrant juice. See, I told you he was no help whatsoever.
‘Wow, it looks amazing!’ said Cairo when he eventually came to a dizzy halt from his mega spin.
‘We just need loads of people to follow us and share our story and hopefully something will happen,’ said Monica.
‘Something like . . . we’ll get put back in the Cup?’ asked Tim.
‘I hope so. This will help, but it might not be enough. It could be a long, long battle.’
Monica started furiously typing and then pressed a large blue PUBLISH button. ‘That’s it, cross fingers time,’ she said.
Tim and Cairo’s, I mean Monica’s, ‘Save Llama United’ social media accounts were a huge hit. In under an hour they had over 50,000 followers who were willing to help the llamas get back in the Cup. Unfortunately for the Governing Body, this meant over half of those followers started firing off angry tweets and comments to the organization. However, there were also a load of positive messages. One in particular caught Monica’s eye.
‘Oh WOW!’ she exclaimed, flinging her arms in the air. ‘OH WOW!’
‘What is it?’ asked Tim, frantically scanning the screen.
Monica pointed at the message with a trembling finger.
‘Hey, hey, big luv for my llamas. C’mon you guys – let them back in!’ said the message. It had a picture of a very glossy-looking woman and the name ‘Willow Whifflebum’ alongside it.
‘Who the broken auntie is Willow Whifflebum?’ asked Tim.
Monica looked at Tim like he’d just asked the most stupid question ever. ‘Really? REALLY? Everyone knows who Willow Whifflebum is. Have you been living under a rock?’
‘I don’t know who she is either,’ added Cairo, giving his hand an awkward little shake.
Monica let out a little sigh and then went on a ten-minute ramble about Willow Whifflebum and how great, famous and powerful she was. Tim and Cairo struggled to keep up.
‘So basically this Whifflebum person is mega famous, but nobody is really sure why, as she doesn’t have a skill,’ concluded Tim, when Monica had finished.
‘Apart from looking fabulous,’ said Monica.
‘Is that a skill?’ asked Tim.
‘Remember though, Tim,’ added Cairo, a chuckle in his voice. ‘She also married a famous American rapper recently – Two Jackets.’
‘You mean Five Jackets,’ said Monica. ‘The best rapper in the world.’
As you are already aware, I know very little about hip-hop or these rappers. However, I am aware that Five Jackets is called Five Jackets because he wears five jackets when he is onstage. Yes, it’s that unimaginative. Performing under those big stadium lights while wearing all those jackets obviously makes him very hot, sweaty and tired. He usually passes out after just three songs. For some reason this has made him incredibly popular.
Just then another message flashed up on Monica’s screen.
‘5JKTS, in leather & an anorak 2night. Llamas rule! GovBody – put them back in the Cup – VIP tickets to my gig Sat & after-party with me and my lady. Peace.’
Monica screamed. ‘Five Jackets. Five Jackets . . . on my laptop!’
‘I think this is a good thing,’ said Tim slowly. And it was.
Five Jackets’ promise of VIP tickets and an after-party with him and Willow Whifflebum was enough to make the Governing Body have a major rethink. They, like everyone else apart from Tim and Cairo, were huge fans and the tickets were like gold dust.
On Tuesday, the governing body issued a statement to the media.
- - - - Press Release - - - -
After a great deal of consideration the Governing Body has decided to reinstate Llama United into this season’s Cup competition. We wish them every success in further rounds. Now can everyone please leave us alone because we’ve got a really big party to get ready for.
Cheerio,
The Governing Body
Tim heard the news as he was getting ready for school. He punched the air and charged downstairs to tell his dad and McCloud, who had been pacing around the kitchen pretty much non-stop since Saturday afternoon. That’s a lot of pacing.
‘We’ve done it!’ Tim shouted as he leaped into the room.
‘You’ve got all the social media stuff ready?’ asked Frank.
‘We did all that on Sunday. Haven’t you been listening to the news? We are back in the Cup, the Governing Body had a major rethink.’
‘Really, it’s all over . . . already?’ said Frank.
‘Yep, we are back in the Cup and get to play Looton Town in the second round in a few weeks.’ Tim puffed his chest out proudly as though he’d just climbed a huge mountain.
‘Yeeeeeeerrrrhooooooooooo,’ shouted McCloud as he ran over to give Tim a huge hug, followed by a high five, followed by a strange little Scottish dance.
‘That’s fantastic,’ said Frank, a grin breaking out on his face. ‘But how did you do it so quickly?’
‘It’s all incredibly boring, Dad. All you need to know is that we are playing again and some really nice people even donated a bit of money to pay for llama food.’
‘Really?’ said Frank. He put his hand over his mouth in surprise.
‘Yep, people want to see us do well . . . we’ve got some really nice fans. It’s not loads of money, just enough for a few weeks or so.’
Tim saw his dad wipe away a tiny tear as he walked over to give his son a huge hug. Tim felt a bit embarrassed; his dad had never hugged him like this before. Uh oh, was he sobbing on Tim’s shoulder? Could have been; I’m not really sure. I’m wondering what it would be like to have a go on Cairo’s swivel chair. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeee!
‘Right then, stop all that soppy stuff,’ snapped McCloud. ‘We’ve got llamas to train . . . I want to show them how to do a magic zig-zag one-two-three turn today.’
‘Cor, what’s that?’ asked Tim.
‘I’ve no idea,’ said McCloud with a huge grin. ‘But it sounds really good doesn’t it?’
MATCH REPORT
THE CUP SECOND ROUND: LOOTON TOWN 0 – 3 LLAMA UNITED
By Steve Buffalo-Mozzarella,
Chief Sports Reporter, Daily Megalomaniac
Looton Town were the latest side to be pulled apart by the rampaging Llama United in the Cup, succumbing to a 3 – 0 defeat at Kenny Road.
Following a late reinstatement into the competition, the Llamas were just too hot to handle, and if it wasn’t for the sterling efforts of Looton keeper Sid Kawalski the score could have easily hit double figures.
United’s dangerous striker, the Duke, opened the scoring in the fifteenth minute, nodding home a Dasher cross from six yards out. Llama United doubled the score ten minutes later as Goal Machine capitalized on a defensive mix-up in the Looton area to stab home from three yards. The llamas completed the victory with a beautiful twenty-yard lob from Cruncher, after some good work from Lightning on the left wing.
Looton had few chances to get themselves on the score sheet due to an excellent defence marshalled by the towering Brian, their best effort coming from P
ete Murray, who ballooned a good ball over the bar from ten yards out. Many believe Murray was scared by the advancing Llama United keeper, Ludo, who once again was in dominant form between the sticks.
After the game, Llama United assistant manager Tim Gravy was thrilled by his team’s performance: ‘I’m thrilled by our performance today. This could have been a tricky game after what we went through with the Governing Body, but the lads did a great job out there.
‘It probably helped that the Llamas knew nothing about being kicked out of the Cup – they just like to focus on their game at all times.’
When quizzed on how far he thought the llamas could go in the competition, Gravy was equally enthusiastic: ‘I think we have a great chance of going all the way,’ he told reporters. ‘The team is focused and determined to get the job done. I don’t mind who we get in the third round, but it would be great to get one of the really big teams like Munchester United.’
It is still to be confirmed how the llamas gained their football skills. Claims that they are a rare breed from high in the Andes are yet to be authenticated, as our team of reporters went missing in Bolivia two weeks ago.
25
THE THIRD-ROUND DRAW
Any football fan worth their salt knows that the third round Cup draw is one of the most important days in the football calendar. It’s when the big boys from the top two leagues join the competition for the first time. For the owners of a smaller club, playing a big one can generate money that they can invest back into the team or help save their club from financial ruin. Frank had slightly more modest dreams – he just wanted to get enough money to keep the farm running for a few more weeks, hopefully even months. He even had a nice fresh page ready in his little black notepad.
Tim, Cairo, Frank and McCloud were at home for the draw, huddled around the TV waiting for the balls to be drawn by an ex-footballer and an actor from a long-running soap opera.