offering. Clear of all obstacles, he stood alone, ten yards from the bewildered
Allianza.
“One more time, head and feet as one! Now, do it!” Renaldo said aloud.
The ball bounced once at his feet a yard out from the goal area. From seven
yards, it was an easy left-footed shot into the near top corner of the twines.
The familiar trilled roar that swept through the grandstand surrounded
the scorer as he took his spot for the ensuing kickoff. The scoreboard shone as
brightly as its celestial cousin, Argentina 3, Peru 0!
One hundred and twenty seconds later, the world unfolded as every
Argentine heart knew that it should. The padrone or ‘old man’ of the team,
thirty-year-old Caesar Castro, would lay the foundation for the largest
celebration Argentina had seen in years.
With the home side swarming around the foreigners’ danger-zone, the red
defenders tried jamming their goalmouth to keep the score respectable. As this
critical play evolved on the fringes, the River Plate winger left his feet and flew
into the midst of the Peruvian goal area. The airborne Castro then nonchalantly
headed the cowhide toward the barn as he connected with a precise lob from
the attacking Daniele Bennett.
Ramon Vida stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his red-shirted marker at
the far goalpost. Up, up, up the ball arched after Castro’s touch, spinning in
slow motion toward the Argentine center forward. Vida had position on his
defensive opponent, who seemed transfixed by the sphere’s flight. Twirling and
whirling as it calmly descended, the precious bundle was gently tucked into its
woven cradle with the tenderness of a new mother. Ramon Vida had sprung up
and took flight one yard from the goal line. Keeper Allianza failed to react at
all to his soaring, affectionate, redirected header. This loving touch was to be
the goal that put the host nation into the World Cup final!
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Chapter twenty-Seven
Señor Gordero, how good to see you again, and Herr Stoltz, my compliments.
Congratulations on your great victory tonight. It is fitting that the host
nation of such a fine tournament be in the championship game. You both
remember my daughter, Mallory?”
Reggie Russell was on his best behavior. He would bite his sarcastic
lip as per Mallory’s instructions, otherwise, he would be forced to suffer her
unladylike wrath. His Lordship had his dander up, however, and it took all his
self-control to keep from giving these arrogant South Americans a lecture on
manners.
Sir Reggie was sick and tired of chasing the elusive Fat Man around
Rosario. Sick of cancelled dinners and postponed meetings, sick of unreturned
phone messages, but most of all, sick of pandering to his Kraut flunky for the
opportunity of an audience.
Mallory had insisted that he calm down and concentrate on scouting the
football players. The Brazil-Argentina fiasco had upset the old fellow so much
that he was convinced he would see nothing inspirational three nights later
as the home side met Peru. His daughter kept reminding him that they must
have open minds and think positively, for there were no superstars waiting
at The Birdcage back home on the Isle of Dogs. All they had were a bunch
of has-beens and wannna-bees, not one quality player to build around. As
usual, Mallory’s pragmatism made the options crystal clear. Arrive home from
South America with nothing in the fold and face annihilation from the likes of
Liverpool, Leeds, and worst of all, their snotty London rivals.
Mallory had set the time and location of this rendezvous with Herr Stoltz
herself. The venue would be the ‘facilitator’s’ suggested restaurant, immediately
following the Peru-Argentina contest. Miss Russell had paid the proprietor of
Ristorante Borgo Antico several hundred American dollars to keep his staff late
and attend to the needs of Señor Astor Gordero. The glutton was well-known
in this cozy Italian establishment, and the tab for his visits always swelled to
hundreds of thousands of pesos.
The game of cat and mouse with the English had worked to the Porteño ’ s
advantage. Once the Anglos had expressed interest in young De Seta, the
games in Rosario became the boy’s showcase. When his fine outing against
JAMES McCREATH
Poland was not duplicated against the Brazilians, it became advantageous for
his agent to be ‘unavailable.’
A strong performance against the Peruvians would increase the young
player’s value, and that, in turn, would make all offers received for his services
more lucrative for client and agent alike. An excessive amount of money wasn’t
something Renaldo De Seta found himself in dire need of, but it was a good
carrot to go along with the adventure and excitement of playing football
abroad.
The astute attorney knew that he would need every possible incentive
to lure the boy out of Argentina, and it was for that very reason that he had
summoned Simone to Rosario. She was his ‘ace in the hole.’ The young stallion
would eventually do as the beautiful and more worldly Symca advised him to
do. Of that, The Large One was certain, for Astor Gordero never underestimated
the power of ‘pillow talk.’
“We want Renaldo De Seta and Ramon Vida for the Canary Wharf
Football Club, Señor Gordero. Do you think that you might be able to ‘facilitate’
such a transfer?”
Mallory’s bluntness startled the three gentlemen. The two new arrivals
had barely taken their seats when the emphatic blonde lady tabled her wish
list.
“My dear Miss Russell, you must forgive me, but I am truly famished.
The crowds of people in the streets have delayed our arrival well past my usual
mealtime. So please, allow me to order some fare from the kitchen, then we
will proceed with business. I can never talk of financial matters on an empty
stomach.”
Why you bloated old cow! steamed Sir Reggie in silence.
Gordero milked the delay for all it was worth. The English had laid their
cards on the table before the first draw. That gave the lawyer from Buenos Aires
a chance to reshuffle the deck and play some bluff poker at their expense.
Luckily, the chef had been forewarned of The Fat Man’s imminent arrival,
and the antipasto and breads were placed on the table immediately. Platters
of Italian meats and cheeses along with grilled vegetables were arrayed on a
separate table that was drawn up beside the starving patron. A bottle of fine
Italian Chianti was consumed before the soup course arrived. A second was sent
for immediately. It was not until the lull preceding the pasta ‘appetizer’ that
the well-nourished deal maker saw fit to address the desires of his European
tablemates.
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RENALDO
“You have made a very wise choice in the two players that you have
selected, my Lady. They seem to complement one another very nicely on the
football field. Off the field, they are friends and often roommates. I hear that
they have even formed a musical duet of some kind. What you request could
be a possibility, if only .
. .”
An oversized bowl of pasta suddenly appeared in front of the speaker,
and it was instantly evident that The Gross One’s train of thought had been
temporarily side tracked.
“If only what, Señor Gordero? If only what, for heaven sakes?” An
impatient Reggie Russell was about to blow a gasket. He held his tongue,
however, when he felt the point of Mallory’s shoe pressing firmly against his
shin under the tablecloth.
Several fork loads of fettucine were consumed before Gordero continued
his dialogue.
“As you know, the De Seta boy is my client. The difficulty with his
situation is his lack of worldly experience. His father died years ago, and he
has been raised under the thumb of a domineering mother. The lady’s only
concession in allowing this gifted boy to stray from her clutches has been the
semiprofessional football that he plays. In return for this allowance, he must
keep his academic standing at the top of his class and accompany her to mass
each Sunday to renounce his sins!”
A pregnant pause gave rise to the consumption of more pasta. A few
moments later, the discourse continued.
“The good news is that Señora Florencia De Seta, the boy’s mother, is also
a client of mine, and it would seem that I have the lady’s trust and confidence.
I want you to understand that convincing Señora De Seta to give Renaldo her
blessing to play football in England will be a Herculean task. But then, I feel
in all modesty that you are talking to the only man in Argentina that could
accomplish such a feat.”
“Come now, Señor Gordero, the boy is nineteen years old according to the
statistical records. In England, that means he is a man, free to vote, fight for his
country, and fornicate as he pleases. Surely this Renaldo De Seta is able to make
a decision with regards to his own future without running to mummy!”
The absurdity of the situation had gotten to be too much for Reggie
Russell. Were they discussing a man that had already scored a handful of goals
in the toughest football tournament in the world or some grade school sissy?
The aging British Marine was just like his daughter in many ways,
straightforward and to the point. All he wanted now was the answer to a simple
question. Was the boy available or wasn’t he?
“Perhaps we Latins have a different sense of family, Lord Russell,” Gordero
mused. “Respecting the wishes of our parents is a lifelong obligation to us,
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JAMES McCREATH
and something that no Argentine takes lightly. Education is Señora De Seta’s
foremost concern for her son. His father was a highly respected doctor, and
I know for a fact that she intends for him to follow in his footsteps. If we
could arrange some academic liaison with a medical school in London, it would
certainly smooth the process. The boy is as adept with a textbook as he is with
a football!”
Mallory Russell did not want to seem overly enthusiastic about acquiring
the services of the boy with the matinee idol’s looks, but it took all the restraint
that she could muster to remain calm. She hung on every syllable the oversized
South American uttered. The medical school connection struck a nerve that
brought her to the forefront of the conversation.
“That will work. I have it!” she blurted out spontaneously.
“My mother was a senior military nurse, specializing in rehabilitative
medicine. That’s how she met father actually. With our contacts, Sir Reggie’s, in
particular, with the Marines and the government, I’m certain that an exchange
student visa could be arranged.” Lady Russell sat back in her chair brimming
with confidence.
“You bring up an interesting point, my Lady.” Wolfgang Stoltz joined the
discussion for the first time. He had been taking notes of the proceedings in his
very precise manner until finally laying his notepad and pen on the table. His
tone was polite, but slightly condescending.
“What would be the official status of our players in your country, if I might
ask? Have you discussed this matter with your immigration authorities? Correct
me if I am wrong, but to my knowledge, there have never been foreign players
in the English first division other than those accepted as political refugees.
How will your Football Association react to foreign nationals taking jobs away
from native-born players? What about the players’ union? How strongly will
they object? Is it possible that there could be some ‘unpleasantness’ directed at
these two boys for changing the balance of things in your country? It would
seem that there are several obstacles to overcome on both sides of the Atlantic
before a suitable conclusion can be consummated.” The German picked up his
pen and notepad and sat poised to transcribe the rebuttal.
“We have already talked to the bloody Department of Employment on
this matter, and I can assure you that there won’t be any frigging red tape if
those two boys make up their own damn minds to come with us!”
Reggie Russell wanted to slug the pompous heinie. How dare he question
their competency or the actions of the Football Association!
Unpleasantness! he had thought to himself before replying to The Fat Man’s
lackey. The only unpleasantness will result from these mamas’ boys not cutting the
mustard in the English first division. They sound like a bunch of overprotected pussies!
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RENALDO
Again it was the chrome tip of Mallory’s spiked pump that signaled
the end to Lord Russell’s soliloquy. His daughter picked up the flow without
missing a beat.
“I appreciate your concerns, Herr Stoltz, but I can assure you that we
will assume full responsibility for your players’ health and welfare. We have
discussed foreign players participating in English football for some time
internally at the FA Level. There are no rules in our bylaws that prevent such a
thing from happening, so therefore, we must assume that it is acceptable.” She
was looking Stoltz directly in the eye while she spoke. “The formalities will
be looked after, gentlemen, of that you have my word.” She looked at Gordero,
then back at the German. “But your players will bring us much more than
they take from us. Our football is stagnant. It is rotting from the inside out.
Since we won the World Cup twelve years ago, our National Team program has
achieved little or no success. The fact that we are not in this competition speaks
volumes in itself. The game of soccer is changing, and we are not learning from
the world around us. We are simply content to rest on past laurels. Yes, we were
champions of the world, once. Well, that was too long ago for my liking, and I
don’t intend to sit idly by and never see England’s name on the championship
trophy again!”
Mallory could feel the passion that her favorite sport evoked flowing
through her veins. She took a sip of the Chianti to settle her emotions, then
pressed on.
“Your players are taught a different style of football from the time they
begin to walk. They have different skills, different thoughts and
patterns of
action and reaction. If we can incorporate and blend these divergent strategies,
well, English football will be forced to wake up and smell the coffee. That is
what I want to accomplish, Señor Gordero.”
The stylish lady crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, satisfied that
she had spoken her case as articulately and earnestly as possible.
“There is another matter of concern regarding Ramon Vida’s situation. I
do not personally handle his affairs, and of course, you are aware that he is the
property of the Boca Juniors Football Club.” Gordero stopped speaking long
enough to inhale the aroma of the veal medallions saltimbocca that had just
been placed before his ever-expanding girth
The talented ‘Boy from Boca’ had increased his own worth tenfold when
he notched his second tally of the evening in the seventy-second minute of the
game against Peru. It would be the sixth and final goal for Argentina in their
march to the championship final. Two goals for De Seta, two goals for Vida!
The score-line had made the selection of the second player on Mallory Russell’s
list an obvious choice. Now what she needed was information on Vida’s future
plans.
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JAMES McCREATH
“I understand that Ramon is a tough customer. A gang leader who was
plucked right off the streets of Boca into their football program. It is said the
only reason he is still alive today is that he is as good with his fists as with his
feet!” Gordero revealed.
The medallions now became the primary focus of The Enormous One,
and his three dinner companions were forced to amuse themselves while he
attended to their disposal.
“Luckily, I have some ‘favors’ outstanding with Caspar Dominico, the
president of the Boca Club. We are currently working on negotiations to move
the Newton’s Prefect First Division Club to Velez Sarsfield Stadium on the
outskirts of the Federal District of the capital. That would leave Boca Juniors
as the only major club team left in the Central District, or heart of the city.
Without the competition our league champions would give him at the gate,
Dominico feels that he could reassert his former popularity at the box office.
The man is very keen to have us move, and I have informed him that the price
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