Mallory, and having her wishes conveyed to the team by a surrogate manager.
This is precisely what transpired with the hiring of ex-Canary player Randal
Horton as team manager and the election of Mallory Russell as executive vice
president in charge of football operations.
Horton had been one of Mallory’s poster boys years before, and the two had
always been on the same wave length. As for Mallory’s appointment, the rest of
the directors figured that they had nothing to lose by giving the enthusiastic
woman the reins, for attendance was falling at The Bird Cage as a result of
the succession of mediocre teams. Having a beauty such as Mallory Russell in
charge would, at least, guarantee increased press coverage.
While little could be accomplished for the balance of the 1976 season,
the Yellow Birds did manage to improve substantially in the second half of
schedule and came within three points of promotion. During the off-season,
Mallory pestered her father to open the bank vault sufficiently to permit the
acquisition of two top quality players who were on the transfer market from
first division clubs.
The first was forward Georgie Steeves from newly relegated Tottenham
Hotspur. His transfer fee of fifty-five thousand pounds was the most the
Canaries had ever paid for a player, but in Mallory’s opinion, he was just the
offensive spark that the team needed.
The second acquisition was for a major league keeper, and in Scotsman
Fraser MacTavish, the Canaries obtained a man nicknamed ‘Stonewall’ by his
Glasgow Rangers supporters. MacTavish was a seasoned veteran, thirty years
of age and only available due to a stable of young, energetic keepers that were
trying to break into the Ranger’s lineup. Fifty thousand pounds secured his
services for the Canaries, but Sir Reggie had a stern warning for his daughter
that this was the end of the spending spree. He also stated that there had better
be a tangible return on his investment or she would follow in the footsteps of
her predecessor, the unfortunate Tony Abbott.
The Canaries started the 19-8 campaign slowly, losing several games
that they should have won. It was relayed to Mallory by manager Horton that
several of the holdover players lacked the real desire that was necessary to win.
They had become second division floaters, content in their jobs and unwilling
to give that extra effort needed to gain promotion.
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RENALDO
Realizing that there was no more money in the till for further new blood,
Mallory and Horton decided to give the most lethargic players there outright
release and fill the void with untested amateurs that proliferated on the playing
grounds of London. Two university players were plucked from their school
teams, more for their enthusiasm than their proven ability. Horton was trying
to field a team with the proper chemistry, and the impromptu shakeup and
dismissal of several of the old-guard players had the desired effect on those who
remained.
Team captain Lawton MacRae was squarely in favor of the purge, for
he had the heart of a lion and hated the endless losing seasons. He berated
his players for their lack of pride and self-esteem, then he and his mates gave
manager Horton and the club executive a vote of confidence. The results of that
vote were evident immediately on the second division playing fields.
The Canaries did soar to the top of the table, and could have possibly
run away with the league had not several midwinter injuries to key players
knocked them down into their familiar fourth place standing by the start of
April. Luckily, all hands were back on deck for the crucial ‘run for the roses,’
and by early May, they had clinched promotion to the big league. The Russell
family and the team’s loyal followers were, at last, in a position to savor an
accomplishment that had eluded the Canary Wharf Football Club for four
decades.
The fact that it was all his daughter’s doing and not that of a man,
specifically his son, did not concern Reggie Russell. Nigel had grown to be
special in many ways, most of them philosophical, spiritual, and nurturing.
He was inseparable from his mother as a child and showed a scholarly, artistic
aptitude at a young age. Theology at King’s College, then an ordainment into
the Church of England completed his formal education. But there was very
little that was formal about Nigel Russell, and he immediately volunteered
for missionary work in Africa. His mother, hating the thought of being so far
away from her adoring son, became ‘born again,’ signed up as an aid worker,
and traveled with Reverend Russell to Kenya. Over the past several years, she
had spent less and less time visiting London, and nearly all the family reunions
seemed to take place at some remote African village.
Neither Reggie nor Mallory seemed to mind the fractured structure of
their family. All four were pursuing their own dreams, and with good spirit
and best wishes from the others. Mallory and her brother had always been
close. Their relationship remained so, but at this point in time, usually by
means of transcontinental mail, as they were seldom on the same continent at
the same time. For a free-spirited family like the Russells, it was a ‘catch you
later’ existence.
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JAMES McCREATH
Five days after ‘the clinch,’ the board of directors assembled in a private
suite at the Naval and Military Club to chart the course of action for their
newly promoted club. Architect John Hughes was also present by invitation.
After a hearty luncheon and several congratulatory toasts, the board settled
down to business.
Team treasurer Neville Strathy gave the financial report for the season
just ended. A modest profit was realized due to the team’s on-field success. One
director mentioned that the coffers would be considerably fatter had the team
not paid out over one hundred thousand pounds on the transfer market the
previous summer.
An incensed Mallory Russell responded that without those two players,
the team would still be in the second division, and they would not be sitting
in their present posh surroundings discussing the future of the club in the
premier league. The dissenting director had no rebuttal.
“Now, about the expansion of the Bird Cage. Shall we hear from Mister
Hughes?” Sir Reggie smoothly shifted topics. John Hughes moved to an easel
that stood at one end of the boardroom table.
“Ladies and gentlemen, as you all are aware, my firm has been working on
the renovation and expansion of The Bird Cage for several years, always with
the anticipation that the Canaries would gain promotion to the first division.
That time has now come, and I am pleased to report that we have developed
a phased scheme of expansion that will not put undue strain on the club’s
finances.” Several of the directors responded to that comment with loud ‘here,
heres.’ Hughes didn’t miss a beat.
“The first step is to build a new, modern grandstand to replace the east
terraces.” At this point, Hughes flipped
over the title page on his architectural
plans to reveal an artist’s conception of the new covered grandstand. “This
facility will accommodate fifteen thousand seated spectators, twenty luxury
boxes, office space that can be leased to other corporations, as well as the most
up-to-date sanitary and concession facilities available in all of Great Britain.”
This time, a rousing round of applause as well as ‘here heres’ filled the
room.
“I am informed that the cost of phase one will be in the range of four
million pounds. The second phase will take place when finances permit. The
major task here calls for the construction of a mirror duplication of the new
grandstand where the old west grandstand sits. The final phase will entail
renovation of the end terraces to permit full enclosure of the grounds, with a
ring of luxury boxes and the elimination of terraced standing. Total cost over
five years is projected at ten million pounds. Any questions, gentlemen?”
As if to acknowledge the oversight, it was Mallory Russell that raised her
hand.
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RENALDO
“Oh, excuse me, Miss Russell. That should have been ‘any questions, ladies
and gentlemen?’”
“Thank you, Mr. Hughes. Your plans look most impressive. I worry about
the loss of revenue from having the present east stands under renovation when
we make our first division debut in only three and a half months. How quickly
can phase one be completed?”
“An appropriate question, to be sure, Miss Russell. We anticipate that the
club will be without the use of the east stand for the entire 1978-79 season.
Construction, if started immediately, should take somewhere close to eight
months. Allowances should be made for labor slowdowns and supply shortages,
however.”
There were many skeptical faces seated around the board table at this
point. Hughes sensed that he had to take the offensive to reassure the wavering
pinstripes.
“But there is a need to look at this project as a long-term benefit, not
only to the supporters, but to the entire community. The Isle of Dogs has
become something of an industrial wasteland, although there is much talk
about major government-induced development in the near future. This new
stadium could be the leading edge of that resurgence and accelerate a new dawn
for one of London’s most historic areas. All efforts will be made to parallel your
construction with future government-assisted projects for housing, commerce,
and transportation improvements. You will also be creating new interest in one
of the oldest football clubs in the country, and by having only a limited number
of seats available for your initial season in the first division, you will stimulate
a tremendous demand for subsequent years.”
Again, it was Mallory who responded. “The one overriding caveat that we
have, Mr. Hughes, is our ability to remain in the first division longer than our
initial season. We made it there with a combination of veterans, some of whom
are on their last legs, and enthusiastic schoolboys, who surely will not measure
up to first division standards. To make this expansion project viable, we must,
once again, open up the purse strings and acquire the talent that will enable
us to be competitive in our lofty new surroundings. Do not forget, gentlemen,
that the bottom three first division teams will find themselves back in the
second division a year from now. It is our job to find the men that will keep the
Canaries out of that particular birdbath!” The assembled suits chuckled with
amusement.
“Just where do you propose that we look for such players, Mallory?” Sir
Reggie interjected.
“Argentina, father, that’s where. In little over a month’s time, the very best
players in the world will be assembling in Buenos Aires. England’s National
Team will not be among them, as you are all well aware. The current state of
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JAMES McCREATH
our domestic football just does not measure up to world standards, gentlemen,
whether you care to admit it or not. I believe most of the first division managers
will stay at home and continue to naval gaze as is their sorry tradition. These
men will not admit to the dismal state of our national sport.” There was a muted
rumble of disagreement with the young lady’s sentiments that momentarily
filled the air. Mallory leapt at once.
“There! That is exactly the attitude that I am talking about. If it’s not
British, it just doesn’t measure up. Well, I say, horse droppings! There are
hundreds of talented players about to be showcased in the largest football
extravaganza that the world has ever seen, yet most of us are prepared to play
ostrich, with our heads in the sand. Argentina, gentlemen, is where we can find
the Canary’s future, and I wager that we will be almost alone on this mission, if
we dare to engage it.” Stunned looks lined the faces of Mallory’s counterparts.
“Do you actually propose to bring foreigners over here to play for us, Miss
Russell?” one of them questioned.
“That is precisely what I am suggestin, Mr. Horrocks. We already have five
Scots and three Irishmen on our roster, sir! What difference would a Brazilian
or a Swede make?”
“But the chaps we have now are at least of British origin. I don’t think
the paying public would tolerate seeing a bunch of foreigners in our colors.
Such a thing has never been done before. It’s preposterous,” Horrocks stated
emphatically.
“I think not, sir.” Reginald Russell was quick to come to his daughter’s
defense. “As you know, several of our nation’s finest players have already
departed for the continent because of the huge salaries that countries like Italy
are willing to pay. I feel as Mallory does, that it should not be a one-way flow of
talent. As long as they can score goals, I don’t care if it is a Peruvian, an Iranian,
or a Martian that tickles the twines for our birdies. We have nothing to lose
and, perhaps, an awful lot to gain. I will think on your suggestion, Mallory,
and report back to the board within seven days. Now, Sir Neville Strathy had
best address the terms of his bank’s most generous loan, which will enable us
to not only to build our new stadium, but also sign players the likes of which
the New York Cosmos have acquired in Péle and Beckinbauer.”
Sir Reggie sat down with a wry grin on his face, his tongue planted firmly
in his cheek. The board certainly had its work cut out for it, but Mallory’s
stimulating idea had given him a gut feeling that should they venture to
Argentina, their voyage would not be in vain.
326
Chapter twenty-twO
Buenos Aires, Argentina. June 2, 1978.
The day of reckoning had finally arrived. A nation held its breath, for
the uncertainty of how its team would perform was at the forefront
of every Argentine heart and soul. The events immediately preceding this
day had been devastating and deadly for the host country of the World Cup
Tournament. A black cloud had fallen over the sport of football in general, and
<
br /> the National Team of Argentina in particular.
Television news cameras had captured the final moments of four thugs
posing as Catalan football enthusiasts as their plans unraveled in a small
seaside town in Spain. It was in Calella, just up the Mediterranean coast from
Barcelona, that the kidnappers panicked when their car was surrounded by
an elite Spanish antiterrorist squad. Whether the detonation of their plastic
explosives was intentional or not, it blew to eternity the five occupants of the
vehicle, as well as the hopes of a World Cup championship for Argentina, in
many people’s minds.
Circumstances leading up to that cataclysmic deed began with the
announcement that an Argentine football player would take a leave of absence
from his Spanish club team to return home in preparation for the upcoming
World Cup Tournament. While this news was greeted with euphoria on the
western side of the Atlantic Ocean, on the European side, betrayal and rage
were the predominant moods in a select number of bars and cafés around
Barcelona.
Yes, Nicodemo Garcia would return to Buenos Aires in time to be the
spiritual guide for Argentina. But Spain was also about to compete in World
Cup ’78. Where did Garcia stand? For Catalonia and Spain, his adopted home,
or for Argentina, the land of his birth? Many of the more fanatical supporters
of Catalonia F.C. in Barcelona considered his brief abandonment of their
beloved team to be a breech of faith and an act of a traitor punishable by
death. Dominated and derided season after painful season by their hated cross
town nemesis F.C. Barcelona, the long-suffering Catalonia faithful could finally
sense that revenge was imminent with the transfer of Nico Garcia from the
Las Palmas club. A record amount of money had been paid for Garcia’s services
halfway through the 1977 season, and positive on-field results were instant
for the upstart Catalans. The 1978 campaign was going to be their shining
moment of glory, with Nicodemo Garcia in a starring role.
JAMES McCREATH
The only cloud on the horizon was the possibility that Garcia would forgo
an idyllic Spanish summer and return to South America to play for his country
in the World Cup. The president of Catalonia F.C. was extremely vocal in
denouncing the preparations for, and the atmosphere surrounding, Argentina
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