Football Fiction

by Stilflat Shadow

  He was pleased with his contribution to the match. There was just one thing that annoyed him with the fans. They didn’t join in with his favorite song: “Stand up if you’ve shit your pants… Stand up if you’ve shit your Pants…”

  Bitominge City 1 Dabi 0

  This was a dour scrappy affair that never got going (where have you heard that before?). Fortunately, The Shithouse saved the day yet again and made us all realize sometimes the result is all that matters.

  Shrove Tuesday 1 Bitominge City 1

  “Ever been spelunking before, Dee?” asked Bullion.

  “I have no idea what you’re on about.”

  “Spelunking. It’s when you go caving. There are some cracking holes in the Yorkshire Dales limestone system.”

  “The only holes I’m interested in are the ones that need filling,” said Gold.

  “Well, let me tell you. You don’t know what you’re missing. Gapping Gill is one of the most famous potholes in the country. It’s a yawning abyss so big you feel dwarfed by the entry. Water cascades down all around you as you descend. Bloody brilliant, Dee.”

  “David, I’m an island boy. I’ve seen some big holes in my time.”

  “Yes, but not like this,” said Bullion, keen to impress.

  “Trust me, David, there were some holes I entered in my youth that I thought I’d never come out of.”

  Bullion looked at Gold like he didn’t understand the aura of spelunking. “This system opens up into a chamber of caverns that intertwine all the way underground to Ingleborough.”

  “And your point is?” asked Gold.

  “My point is, it’s 365 feet deep and would swallow you up.”

  “Sound very much like an old East End girlfriend, except she’d blow you back out in bubbles. David, it’s something I’d rather forget. Lets talk about the game and what’s going on in the club.”

  “What’s to talk about? We are in a play-off position, and we all know what that means with our history.”

  “Nonsense, David. Every year is different. Besides, we could still go up automatically if we can get a groove on.”

  “Get a groove on? It’s not a soul train special.”

  “What would you know about soul train?”

  “Nothing, but I know about football, which is what we’re involved in. We are quickly falling out of second place and drifting away from our goal.”

  Gold looked at his partner. “We have a lot of games to go. What are you on about? It’s all to play for.”

  “Yes, well, that’s your opinion. Mine is, the season’s over, and I’m going to enjoy the British Isles while I’m in this division, as I don’t plan on travelling to these lovely places again anytime soon,” answered Bullion. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to prepare for my trip.”

  Bullion had two days before he headed up north to get his personal fix and attend the match. He hadn’t been spelunking for more than five years, and his equipment was at the back of his closet in a large box.

  “Right, let’s see what we have here…”

  He was going to use his hiking clothes for the most part but his helmet looked like it hadn’t had a good polish in ages, and his headlamps didn’t work.

  “Oh dear,” he said on retrieval. “I’ll give Ingot a call, and he can pick up the essentials for me, and I’ll see if I can’t get him to join me. He normally does,” he thought to himself.

  Ingot wrote down all the things Bullion needed for his jaunt: headlamp mounted, not elastic, check; wet suit, small, check; fanny pack with six AA batteries, check; knee pads, small, check; elbow pads, check; balaclava, check; industrial rubber gloves, small, check; tackle bag with first aid kit, check; chest harness, check; ascenders and descenders, check; cow’s tails, check; and ten energy bars, check.

  “I think that should do it Ingot. I have all the rest of the stuff. Scratch the wet suit, it’s probably better if I get that myself.”

  “Very good, Boss.”

  “Erm… are you interested in coming along?” Bullion asked tentatively.

  Ingot knew the question would eventually arrive.

  “I’ve never been spelunking before, Boss. What does it entail?”

  “You crawl around on your hands and knees underground. Obviously, I’ll be taking the lead for safety, but you’ll follow close behind. It’s great fun.”

  “How long do you normally spelunk for at a time?”

  “Overnight, usually about ten to twelve hours before we hit the surface again.”

  Ingot contemplated the thought of being stuck underground for twelve hours with his face up Bullion’s arse.

  “No thanks, Boss,” he answered.

  “I’ll buy all your gear, no problem, take it as a treat from me.”

  “No Boss. I get claustrophobic. I couldn’t do it. Thanks all the same.”

  This was one of the Blues’ better performances in recent games, but they had to wait for a bit of genius from The Lightbulb in the ninetieth minute to snatch a point. Although they played well on the whole, it will be seen as two points lost, as the two teams could only manage draws. The Shrove Tuesday fans were up for the encounter and were giving the middle finger victory sign and getting ready to flip pancakes underneath the stars until the illuminator said, “I’ll be back.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  PURIFICATION FEBUARY

  Bitominge City 1 Brun Lea 1

  The Lightbulb.

  Bitominge City 2 Snot Forest 0

  Bullion was looking forward to this fixture; it wasn’t often he had the opportunity to gloat about his size, but today he had the distinct honour and high privilege to welcome a manager to the Quattro Fianco Stadium who was shorter than he was.

  Willy Waterproof Davies was an inch shorter than Bullion, unless he was wearing those absurd platform shoes that he had on the last time. Bullion waited for the away team coach to arrive.

  “Welcome, Willy,” he said, shaking his hand.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day. This one’s from Cupid,” said Bullion, handing him a card.

  “Oh, thank you.”

  Bullion leaned over Davies, pleased that he had on a flat-heeled pair of bluchers.

  “Great to see you again, Willy.”

  “And you, David,” he answered in a heavy brogue.

  “The stadium looks terrific,” he continued.

  “Let me show you around,” said Bullion. “It’s changed a lot since you were last here.”

  “Aye, it has,” he answered.

  Bullion ushered him into the stadium. “Come, Willy, if I remember correctly you used to be big into fitness and conditioning? Right?”

  “Aye, I did that, still do.”

  “Well, you’ll love our state-of-the-art facilities and all underneath the main stand.”

  They walked through the fitness area. Davies commented on all the treadmills.

  “Yes, Willy, there’s one for each player.”

  “You have them in groups? Any reason for that?”

  “Of course. They are set in a 4-5-1 system.”

  “That’s only ten?” asked Willy.

  “We didn’t have enough money for the other one. Besides, our keeper doesn’t need it,” said Bullion.

  Davies nodded. “Aye, he’s super fit.”

  “No, he doesn’t come off his line, so why waste the money?” answered Bullion. “Come check the poles out.”

  “Poles?” asked Davies, confused.

  “Yes, the fitness director demanded them for aerobic and anaerobic performance training.”

  Two steel dancing poles ran from the floor to the ceiling at either ends of the gym. Davies kicked his bluchers off and scaled the nearest pole.

  “Nice pole,” he said to Bullion, hanging from the top. Bullion nodded in shock. Davies did a little fan kick, moving quickly into a scissor split then arrow spin all the way down the pole. He shinnied back up to the top and held a cradle before Camilla, spinning to the bottom and finishing with extended cross legs.
<
br />   “Bloody hell, Willy.”

  Davies reverse grabbed the pole and sunwheeled to the top, clasping it between his thighs and acknowledging Bullion.

  “Big finish,” he screamed as held a showgirl pose.

  “This is the hard one,” he said, going into a bridge knee hook sidespin swing all the way down the pole.

  Bullion clapped enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you were a swinger?”

  Davies winked and smiled.

  The Blues finally did what the squad had been expected to do all season and thoroughly thumped a team with controlled tight passing and precision finishing. The score line flattered Forest and the fact the How Many Clubs and Emerald Field were the only ones on the score sheet was a mystery.

  Bullion walked into the clubhouse.

  “Great bit of football today,” he said to Gold.

  “Yes, smashing to see us play like that. It’s been a while.”

  Bullion handed him a cooler.

  “What’s this?” asked Gold.

  “I picked some things up after spelunking last week,” said Bullion.

  “Oh thank you,” answered Gold, opening it up.

  The smell permeated his nostrils. “Boy that’s pungent, Bully. What is it?”

  “Different cheeses from the Dales. You’ll probably recognize this one. It’s Wensleydale.”

  “Oh, right, thanks.”

  Leofric City 1 Bitominge City 0

  “What are you wearing?” asked Gold.

  “A body wrapper easy release shell suit,” answered Bullion. “Why? Do you like it?”

  “No,” said Gold.

  Bullion had on a royal blue male stripper body tease tracksuit with white dotted sequins and a studded dog collar.

  “Why on The Ar are you wearing that?”

  “Dee, I sometimes wonder about you. Who are we playing today?”

  “Leofric, away.”

  “And who is the most famous person from that city?”

  “Lady Godiva?” answered Gold.

  “Exactly. If the Blues play the way they did last Saturday, I’m going to treat the away supporters club to the Divo,” he said whisking off his tracksuit to reveal a push up padded thong with the club badge embroidered across the front.

  “Why?” asked Gold, in horror.

  “In honour,” answered Bullion, gyrating his hips.

  “In honour of what?”

  “A just cause and a noblewoman.”

  Gold scratched his head. “Can you explain a little better, David?”

  “It’s about time we started to play some good stuff, and last week we did. To thank the manager and the team and supporters, I’ve decided to honour one of our country’s greatest noblewomen by donning this outfit and bare all if we play like that again this week.”

  The Blues lost 1-0 and played crap. Gold could honestly say he was elated for the first time that his team was beaten and awful.

  Fake Tans 0 Bitominge City 0

  “Nice having not to travel far,” said Bullion to Ingot.

  “Yes, Boss,” he nodded in the rear mirror.

  “We made good time, six on the dot.”

  Ingot nodded again.

  “What do you want to do?” he asked his Boss.

  “I don’t know. Hadn’t thought about it, Ingot.”

  “I can drive out to Bromley and back, kill some time?”

  “Nah, don’t bother. We can pull into the club car park and sit in the car.”

  “Yes, Boss,” answered Ingot.

  “I want to chat anyway, it’s been a while since we had a good yak.”

  “Sure, Boss.”

  Ingot rolled down his window and greeted the guard. He handed him his credentials.

  “Very good, right up front,” he said, motioning to his colleague ahead.

  Ingot parked up and told the attendant not to let anyone bother them as Mr.Bullion was taking an important call.

  “Well done, Ingot. Excellent as ever,” said Bullion.

  He opened the drinks cabinet. “Port?”

  “No, I’ll take a fresh, cold water though.”

  Bullion tossed Ingot the water.

  “What did you do Sunday?” he asked his chauffeur.

  “Not a lot, the usual, worked out in the evening. What about you?”

  “Nothing. I got a big bag of chips and lay on the sofa and watched racing classics.”

  “Oh nice,” said Ingot taking a sip of his water.

  “This league’s been funny so far, hasn’t it?”

  “Not really,” said Ingot. “We haven’t ran away with it, but then, did we really expect to? I know I didn’t. We are in the top two and within three points of the leaders with a dozen games to go.”

  Bullion pursed. “I know.”

  “It’s not an easy league, Boss.”

  “Yes, but we pay by far the highest salaries and to be honest, I don’t see that much difference. You?”

  “I do. It just comes in fits and starts, that’s all.”

  “More fits than starts, unfortunately.”

  “What is your plan if we don’t go up?” asked Ingot forthright.

  “Not sure. It’ll brake the club and take us back years. At that point, I may as well say good-bye because I’m not going through that again.”

  “What will you do then?” asked Ingot.

  “It’ll be a dump and run and hope I get a sale the other end I want.”

  “Right,” said Ingot.

  “Anyway, we are second, so as you pointed out, as far as I’m concerned, if we can stay in this position we are up.”

  “True, Boss.”

  Bullion checked his watch. “Time to go.”

  He walked into the club happy, whistling “It’s all been done.”

  The match was a pretty even contest with the home side more aggressive and eventually losing a man late in the game, but the Blues couldn’t convert the advantage into a goal, and it fizzled right to the end.

  Blades 2 Bitominge City 1

  Long Sword dancing is a forgotten traditional art especially with the masses. Being a farmer himself, Bullion liked the lore of Long Sword dancing as it signified the start of the agricultural year and growth. The pagan Vikings brought it to the Isles as a good omen for the coming year’s crops. He had practiced the hilt and point dance with friends in Norfolk one year and was keen to experience it again.

  “Do know if there’s a Long Sword performance going on this weekend around Cheffield?” he asked his host chairman.

  “No.”

  “What about North Yorkshire?”

  “I have no idea, David.”

  A couple of controversial decisions by the ref decided this encounter, but, truth be told, the Blades looked fair value for the win.

  Bitominge City 1 The Robins 0

  French Fwonk led the Blue and White revolution to topple The Robins in a late show conquest that shouldn’t have had to wait until the eighty-seventh minute before it was settled.

  The ball spent most of its time peppering The Robins’ goal—great goalkeeping, sloppy finishing, and some divine intervention kept this match way too close for the home supporters. Still, a win is a win.

  Bitominge City 1 The Hagiologists 0

  Scrappy one nil wins seemed to be the norm at The Quattro Fianco.It was another close encounter of the third kind for these two teams, with nothing between them except twenty places and thirty points by the time it was over. For anybody watching without bias, the question on their lips must have been, “How was this possible?”

  Barnzli 1 Bitominge City 1

  It was drizzling as Bullion set off from the Midlands for the evening match. He wanted to find his inner-self, his core, and his earthly beginnings.

  Tile Cross Zoo is situated on the outskirts of the city and is home to the largest collection of primates in the world, or so they say. There are more than forty different species of primates from gibbons, lemurs, marmosets, and tamarins right up to the great apes. Bullion’s favo
rite was the Black howler monkey. Its name derives from its intense guttural greeting and goodnight to the start and end of each day and can be heard from more than three miles away.

  The Black howler monkey troops are the loudest animals in the New World and quite rightly use their low, deep voices to warn and defend their turf.

  Bullion likened them to the Millwall F Troop. He was fascinated by Evolution and thanked Gold everyday for the life he had.

  “Do you know, Ingot? Just one DNA different and that could be us,” he said staring through the double plate glass at a large, male chimpanzee.

  Ingot nodded and smiled at the chimp as he stroked himself.

  “I think he’s taken a liking to you Ingot,” said Bullion, amused.

  “Nonsense.”

  “No, I think he has.”

  “All apes do that. It’s a form of grooming,” Ingot answered, smiling at the chimp.

  Bullion watched as the chimp rubbed with vigor, smiling back. “I think it’s a bit more than grooming, Ingot.”

  The chimp got up off his stoop and walked over to the glass and touched it, still massaging himself.

  “Do you know what species that is?” asked Bullion.

  Ingot looked shocked as the great ape carried on smiling and shaking his head uncontrollably. “No.”

  “That is a Pan troglodyte, a hanky sneeze away from our gene pool. About as close as you can get in Evolution.”

  Ingot focused on his boss and confirmed his comment as the chimp banged the window twice and pulled one off before going back and sitting down.

  “See told you,” said Bullion.

  Ingot ignored his Boss and walked off into the next ape house, leaving him alone with the chimpanzee. Bullion read the brass plaque on the wall. “Spanky, Hominidae, born 1949, Awngoala. Oldest living chimpanzee in captivity.”

  Barnzli is a close knit northern town that looks like it has never fully recovered from the pit closures in the eighties. It does, however, have a deep-rooted football base with a large, notable production line of strong, forceful professional footballers including The Beast.