by Bali Rai
‘Where’s Mum and Dad?’ I asked him.
‘In the living room, arguing,’ he replied, not looking up.
‘About what?’
He shrugged. ‘I dunno – something Uncle Rajbir said …’
I left him where he was and went into the living room. My parents were sitting opposite one another, each of them looking at anything but the other, like big kids.
‘What’s up with you two?’ I asked, plonking myself down on the sofa next to my mum and switching on the telly with the remote.
‘Ask him,’ said my mum childishly.
‘Dad?’ I said, knowing what he was going to say.
‘Ask your mum,’ he replied.
‘Just tell me what’s happened,’ I told them.
My mum looked at my dad. ‘They’re your family – you tell her,’ she said.
‘I’m not the one who thinks that it’s a big deal,’ he replied.
‘What’s not a big deal?’ I asked, beginning to feel worried. For a moment I thought my uncle and aunt had seen Tyrone and put two and two together.
‘Your uncle offered me a job,’ my dad finally told me.
‘Oh right … so what? Ain’t like he’s never done that before.’
‘Yes – only this time your father said yes,’ my mum told me.
My uncles were always asking my dad to join the family business, which David and I jokingly called Gill Enterprises. They thought that my dad was strange with his crap factory job, as they put it, and his embarrassing old car. And then there was what they thought about my mum. My dad had always refused their offers in the past, which is why my mum was so shocked. So was I.
‘What?’ I asked, not believing my ears.
‘He said he’d think about it,’ continued my mum.
‘Which isn’t the same as saying yes, is it?’ my dad pointed out.
‘Might as well be,’ she snapped.
I looked at my dad. ‘I don’t get it,’ I said. ‘I thought you weren’t into what they do?’
‘I might not have a choice,’ he told me. ‘I don’t think the factory is going to be open much longer. We’re already on short hours …’
‘It’ll be all right – it always is …’ replied my mum.
My dad shook his head. ‘Not this time,’ he said. ‘They reckon it’s cheaper to make the parts we make abroad – we ask for too much money apparently, and the company we supply has gone into administration.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ I admitted.
‘I’ve been talking to Mikey about it and he’s looking for another job too,’ continued my dad.
‘But working for your brothers …?’ said my mum. ‘You’ll go mad.’
‘We can’t survive on just your wages,’ he told her. ‘I’ve got to do something.’
My mum shrugged. ‘You could retrain …’
‘Or I could take up their offer,’ he countered.
I looked at both of them in turn. ‘Is anyone gonna tell me what their offer actually was?’ I asked.
‘They’re taking on a sandwich shop franchise and they want me to have it. I just pay them back the start-up money over as long as it takes.’
‘Huh?’ I asked, being dumb.
‘They’re going to put the money in to start it,’ explained my mum. ‘And your dad is going to run it and pay back the money a little at a time—’
‘Can you do that?’ I asked.
‘Your uncle thinks it’ll work. He wants me to go round tomorrow and look at numbers and stuff …’
My mum shook her head again. ‘After everything they’ve done and said, I can’t believe you’re even thinking about it,’ she told him.
‘They’re still family and they wouldn’t ask if they didn’t care,’ replied my dad. ‘And like I said – we might not have any choice if I get made redundant …’
I wondered why my dad hadn’t explained exactly how serious his work situation was. It had to be really bad for him to consider working with my uncles. My mum had a point though. They’d made my parents’ life hell – said and done some really nasty things. And now they wanted to help us out? I didn’t believe it. Not that it was going to happen anyway. My dad was never going to get the sandwich shop. And that would be my fault.
DAVID
I CHECKED OUT my cousin Satnam’s face as Dean walked over to us. He looked at me and then back at my best friend, as the wind whipped up and sprinted across the park, nearly taking me off my feet.
‘Easy, bro!’ shouted Dean through the gale.
‘Yes, Dean,’ I replied, smiling.
He stood in front of me, nodding towards Satnam.
‘This is my cousin,’ I told him. ‘Satnam.’
‘Easy,’ said Dean.
‘Awright …’ replied Satnam, looking away.
I looked past Dean towards the rest of his team, who were warming up at the other end of the pitch. Hillfield Rangers was made up of mainly black lads with a couple of white brothers and an Asian lad whom I recognized.
‘Is that Raggy?’ I asked Dean.
‘Yeah, man – he switched over to us this season,’ he told me.
My cousin snorted. ‘He’s a traitor, man. Used to play for SEFC—’ he said.
‘Who?’ I asked.
‘Sahota Enterprises – you should know them. They’s family …’
I shrugged. ‘Man can play for anyone he wants,’ I said. ‘An’ I ain’t got no clue ’bout no Sahota team.’
Dean gave me a funny look, like he wanted to call my cousin a knob, but didn’t, just to be polite. I knew exactly how he felt. Another blast of wind caught me as I spoke.
‘He’s good.’
‘Wicked,’ agreed Dean. ‘Fast like a Ferrari and the ball sticks to his foot.’
‘We got the man to tek care of him,’ boasted Satnam. ‘He ain’t doin’ shit this game.’
‘Didn’t he play youth for Leicester City?’ I asked, recalling where I’d heard of him.
‘Yeah – till last year …’ said Dean.
‘I heard he didn’t have the balls for it,’ said Satnam. ‘Couldn’t take the pace.’
‘Nah – that ain’t the story,’ corrected Dean. ‘He did his ligaments and they let him go.’
Satnam shrugged. ‘Every man’s got some excuse,’ he said, grinning.
Dean didn’t grin back. Instead he looked at me. ‘Better go warm up,’ he told me.
‘If you can in this wind,’ I said. ‘The ball’s gonna go everywhere.’
‘As long as it goes in your goal,’ he teased.
‘We’ll see, bro,’ I told him. ‘Good luck.’
‘You too,’ he said. ‘We’re goin’ for a drink afterwards. You can come if you like …’
‘Where?’
‘The Horse,’ he told me.
I nodded. ‘We’re all headin’ in there anyway,’ I said.
‘In a bit,’ he replied before turning and jogging back to his team mates.
Satnam gave me a funny look. ‘He’s a cocky fucker, ain’t he?’ he said.
‘No more than you,’ I replied, smiling to defuse the situation.
The rest of our team began to turn up and Satnam went over to them. I watched him go and began to stretch my hamstrings and calves, hoping that things would stay calm once the whistle blew and the game started. Not that there was much chance of that. I saw two more of my cousins, Parmjit and Inderjit, get out of an Audi A3, along with Suky Mann. The last person out of the car was Raji Mann, the self-styled head of the Desi Posse, with a fresh skinhead haircut. He was the one who’d been kicked out of school after the fight.
‘Shit!’ I said to myself, wondering what he was doing at the game. He drank too much booze and ate too many kebabs to play football.
Inderjit came towards me and smiled. ‘Yes, little cos …’
‘Ind – how you doin’?’ I asked, wondering why his gold chain was on the outside of his tracksuit.
‘Cool, man. You ready to give these kaleh a beatin’?’
&
nbsp; ‘My best mate is playin’ for them,’ I told him, as a warning.
‘So? This is football and we’re here to win. You can be mates all you like after – you get me, blood?’
‘Whatever – I’m just gonna play my game,’ I said.
‘Can’t ask for no more,’ Inderjit replied.
I nodded in Raji Mann’s direction. ‘What’s he doin’ here?’
My cousin turned and followed my line of sight. ‘Who – kebab boy?’ he asked.
‘Yeah – Raji.’
‘Come to watch the game, same as a lot of man. Why?’
‘I don’t like him – that’s all,’ I said.
Inderjit gave me his ‘older cousin’ look. He was about to lecture me on something.
‘His father’s sister is married to our dad’s cousin – that makes him family,’ he said, not joking.
‘Eh?’
‘He’s family so there ain’t nuttin’ to dislike –understand?’
I laughed. ‘His father’s sister … how many times removed is that?’ I asked.
‘That’s some white boy shit you’re chattin’,’ he told me. ‘Indian man don’t see it that way.’
‘Good job I’m English then,’ I replied, knowing that it would wind him up.
He shook his head, called me a few names in Punjabi and then walked back to his mates. The wind got even stronger, if it was possible. I turned away from the rest of them and wondered whether Dean’s team needed players.
* * *
It took another twenty minutes for the referee to turn up and by that time both teams had a load of supporters cheering them on. The wind was charging across the park like a raging bull when we gathered together for a team briefing. Parmjit, who was looking after the team because the coach, Deggsy, was recovering from heart surgery, told us to huddle as he went over the tactics he’d planned.
‘Four-four-two –just for the first half. They got fast wingers and we need to hold ’em in check. Come the second half they’ll be tired and then we can change things …’
‘Check out Mr Tactics,’ joked the keeper, Amandeep.
‘Time for jokes is later,’ Satnam told him. ‘Unless you come out to catch the ball at a corner, that is …’
The rest of us laughed and Amandeep went the strange shade of red that Punjabis go.
‘We gotta stick to the game plan too. Not like last week …’ continued Parmjit.
‘Them white bastards were dirty,’ said Amandeep, who had let in three soft goals in our previous league game.
‘Nuttin’ to do with bein’ dirty,’ Parmjit told him. ‘We didn’t keep the ball …’
‘Yeah, let’s try an’ play like a team this week,’ added Suky Mann, who was one of the substitutes. I had his place.
‘Exactly,’ agreed Parmjit. ‘We gotta keep our shape. Last week you wankers was all over the place.’
Suky looked at me and sneered. ‘An’ if you get a chance, give them kaleh a good kicking,’ he said, his eyes never leaving mine.
‘Not when the ref is looking,’ warned Parmjit.
‘Fuckin’ black, banana-eatin’ monkey bastards …’ spat another lad, Jas.
‘There ain’t no need for that,’ I snapped, taking the bait.
‘Yeah there is,’ countered Suky Mann. ‘Two of your black bum chums over there was responsible for my bro gettin’ kicked out of school …’
A murmur went up as I stared Suky down. He held my gaze for about three seconds before he looked away – the pussy.
‘You’re the biggest dickhead I ever met,’ I told him. ‘I heard Raji got kicked out for being a fat, smelly, useless shit that couldn’t even see his own prick ’cos his belly was so round.’
Suky looked at me again, his eyes blazing. ‘That’s my family you is on about,’ he said. ‘Carry on – see what a gwaan.’
‘Seein’ as how you hate black people so much, it’s funny that you try an’ talk black,’ I told him, feeling my blood pressure begin to rise. I was about three seconds from walking off and letting them play without me.
Suky gave me another sneer and then looked at Satnam. ‘I’m just sayin’ – them niggers got to pay,’ he said.
About half of the team said they agreed, while the rest looked on, embarrassed at the racist language maybe or just watching a beef brewing. I looked at Parmjit and my three seconds came bursting up, like a missile launched from a submarine. Red spots began to dance in front of my eyes.
‘Fuck it!’ I said, pushing the goalkeeper away from me. ‘I ain’t playin’ for you wankers …’
‘You gotta play!’ shouted Parmjit, grabbing my arm, as I made to walk away.
‘No I ain’t! You can stick your team up your fat, hairy batty hole.’
He was about to say something else but stopped when he saw the ref coming over. ‘Suky – get stripped,’ he snapped.
I didn’t turn round as I made my way to the sideline, threw off the team shirt, pulled on my hooded top, grabbed my bag and walked across to the Hillfields supporters. I had played my last game for my cousin’s side.
DAVID
WHEN DEAN SAW me standing with his team’s supporters he gave me a funny look and a thumbs-up sign. I nodded to show him that everything was OK and watched my old team kick off. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I turned to see an Asian lad that I knew.
‘Easy, Ammo,’ I said.
‘What you doin’ over here?’ he asked.
‘Ain’t playin’,’ I said, shrugging.
‘Been dropped?’
‘Summat like that,’ I replied.
‘Well, you’re with the winners now,’ he bragged.
‘Looks that way,’ I said, turning back to the game.
Someone had kicked the ball up into the air and I saw Dean prepare to challenge for it when it came down. I also saw Suky eyeing Dean, not the ball, and when the challenge came, Dean ended up on his back, holding his face. The ref blew for a foul and ran over to Suky, who raised his hands like he hadn’t done anything. I wanted to run on and head-butt him but I managed to stop myself. I knew what Dean was like and I waited patiently for him to get his revenge. It came five minutes later, just after my old team had missed an open goal, the striker, Dal, hitting the ball over the bar from about five yards out.
The Hillfields keeper hit a long kick and this time, as Suky went for the ball, Dean rose with him and caught Suky’s cheek with his head. Suky screamed like a girl, hit the ground and rolled over about ten times. This time the ref gave Dean a yellow card and Suky had to leave the pitch before the game could restart. As soon as it did, the Hillfields right winger crossed the ball into the box and Raggy volleyed a powerful shot past Amandeep. The crowd went crazy, jumping up and down, as my old team mates blamed each other for the goal and Suky came back onto the pitch.
The first sending off came after the restart, when Jas, the left back for my cousin’s team, punched the goal scorer in a scuffle. The referee spent about five minutes trying to calm it all down and a tall lad, who was playing midfield with Dean, pulled Raggy away. The referee gave a free kick, which Dean took, hitting the post with his effort. The half ended about fifteen minutes later.
The second half descended into madness from the first whistle. The tall lad playing with Dean got hold of the ball and skipped past four of our players, bearing down on goal. Suky slid in, both sets of studs showing, in a deliberate attempt to hurt him, but the lad saw it coming. He jinked to the left and put a low shot underneath Amandeep’s body for the second goal. My cousin Satnam went crazy, kicking out at the scorer as he ran past, celebrating his goal. Dean saw the kick and he squared up to my cousin, who started swearing at him. I didn’t hear everything he said but I did make out the word ‘monkey’ and my stomach twisted and turned. I watched Dean’s expression change to amazement and then to rage, and he decked my cousin with one punch. Suky Mann jumped in and everything went mad. The Hillfields supporters started booing and two of them, both older black men, ran on to try and calm things down
. But Suky was punching at anything that moved and when Raji and some of the other Asian lads joined in, I thought it would end with the police being called.
It didn’t though. After a long while, the ref regained control and sent off Satnam, Suky and Dean. When one of the other Hillfields players complained, he got a red card too. I looked at Ammo, who just shrugged.
‘Weren’t no need for that shit,’ he told me.
‘I know,’ I replied, agreeing with him.
‘That lad givin’ it the mouth’s yer cousin, ain’t he?’
I felt myself going red as the embarrassment rose up inside me. ‘Yeah … shame you can’t pick yer family,’ I said.
‘Too right, bro,’ he told me. ‘I got ’nuff family like that.’
I waited for him to say something else but he didn’t. Instead he shook his head and we watched the rest of the game, which ended with a third goal to Hillfields, scored by the tall lad in midfield again. He’d been the one on the receiving end of most of the dirty tackles so he enjoyed his second goal, running over to Dean and jumping on him to celebrate. Dean, who looked like he was still fuming, pumped the air with his fists. At the end some of my old team shook hands with the opposition but the rest just trudged off, swearing at the Hillfields players and each other. I watched them, pleased that I hadn’t played for them. That I wouldn’t be playing for them ever again.
After the game I walked over to the pub with Dean and the tall lad who’d scored twice. The rest of Dean’s team were already there, along with a few fans, and I wondered if my old team would try and kick off because they viewed The Horse as their local and might think that Hillfields were gloating. They were stupid enough to see it that way. Dean asked me why I hadn’t played as we crossed London Road to get to the pub, avoiding the fast-flowing traffic and a couple of boy racers in Peugeot 206s who were too busy trying to out-speed each other to notice that there were people crossing the road.
‘Wankers!’ I shouted after the speeding cars, hoping they’d run into a police trap further down the road.