Football Fiction

by Stilflat Shadow

  The frog sat under his lamp and barely blinked.

  “I’ve got a promotion treat for you,” he continued, walking over to his live mouse cage and fishing out a healthy specimen. Bullion had spared no expenses for his pet’s dinner on their last few days of life. The Supreme Spa Vacation Home Cage had two comfort shelves, two safety ramps, a food dish full of Yorkshire’s finest cheeses, and a 12-speed level exercise wheel.

  The mouse sensed the danger as soon as Bullion put him down and tried to run back up his arm.

  “Oh no, you don’t, Speedy. Back you go,” he said, grabbing his tail.

  “Boss, can we stay overnight in a hotel so I can finally unwind?” asked Ingot.

  “Of course have a drink,” said Bullion. “What would you like?”

  “Beer.”

  “What kind? We’ve got Amspill or Carono?”

  “Carono,” said Ingot, undoing his pony-tail and shaking his hair loose.

  “Lime?” asked Bullion.

  “Oh thanks. My feet are killing me,” he said, sitting down. “Some win!”

  “Yes, in my wildest dreams, I never thought it would happen,” answered David.

  “Me too,” said Alf.

  “Some sight. That pitch under the lights?”

  Ingot nodded. He hadn’t seen the ground completely empty and lit before. “The new stadium is impressive.”

  “That it is, Ingot,” agreed Bullion.

  The grass down below beckoned him, glistening green wet dew.

  “Let’s have a kick about,” said Bullion.

  “A kick about?” repeated Ingot.

  “Yes, a kick about, three and in, and I’ve got some spare kits,” he said, going into his closet.

  He threw Alf a 2002 replica Dugary shirt and Ingot a Try it On Incontinence kit. “Come on then, get your kit on,” he said, getting excited.

  “Do we have to?” asked Ingot.

  “Yes, of course we do, Ingot.”

  “But Boss...”

  “No buts, three and in. Me and Alf against you, rush back keepers.”

  “Yes,” shouted Alf.

  Ingot looked at his Boss. “How is that fair?”

  “It’s not, but Alf and I are giving you sixty years between us.”

  “Yes, but its two against one. You’re half decent, and Alf is athletic. I don’t stand a chance.”

  David pulled his ’72 replica penguin shirt over his head with the number nine on the back.

  “Shut up and get your kit on. You can have Frenchy.”

  “Oh boy,” said Ingot, walking over to the far corner of the office.

  “Don’t be shy,” said Alf, opening another bottle of champagne.

  “Hey Alf, not too much. We want to win this one,” said Bullion, limbering up.

  Ingot slipped out of his suit and revealed a tight-ribbed singlet and skimpy boxers. Bullion coughed, noticing as he raised his leg on the desk stretching his hamstring.

  “Come on then, let’s have it,” said Alf, ready.

  “Very good Alf, I like a keen man. See Ingot, I know how to pick a team,” said Bullion.

  Ingot had finished dressing. “Do I have to wear this?”

  “Of course,” said Bullion, bouncing a regulation size five on his head.

  Alf was impressed. “Yo Bully, nice bit of juggling.”

  “Come on, then. Let’s do it. Ingot, do you want to put some money on the outcome?” asked Bullion.

  Ingot looked at him like he was mad.

  “I’ll bring Frenchy then?” he said, wrestling his pet out of his vivarium.

  The frog croaked and settled in his arms.

  “Come on, my little Anuran friend, don’t be stopping too many of my shots. Remember who feeds you.”

  Ingot followed them out. “How is this fair?”

  “Give it a rest,” said Bullion. “Put up or shut up.”

  Alf was first out on to the pitch and was surprised by the brightness. “I can see everything down here even the little bugs on the grass.”

  “Yes,” answered Bullion. “We spent beaucoup money on state-of-the-art floodlights when we did this new stadium.”

  “We did?” answered Alf.

  “Yes,” said Bullion, skipping on to the pitch and passing him a short, sharp pass.

  “Nice touch and back again,” he said eager.

  The moment had really got to Bullion as he gently stretched out down the wing and placed the bag of balls down by the corner flag. Frenchy was still in his arms but was starting to come to life with the night air.

  “Come on buddy, I’ll put you in the six yard box,” said Bullion to his frog before jogging back to the centre of the pitch. “Right, Alf, you ready? Our ball first.”

  Ingot knew that joining in was part of the job and wasn’t going to stop now. “Okay, Boss, but I warn you I haven’t been drinking and I’m super fit.”

  “Yes, you are,” answered Bullion under his breath.

  Alf was already down by the corner flag, loosening a ball from the bag.

  “Come on, we haven’t got all night,” said Alf, clipping the ball into Bullion’s path.

  Bullion darted off to receive it but was outpaced by Ingot who turned back quickly and bent a beauty in the top corner.

  “One-nil,” said Ingot, pleased.

  “Give me a decent ball,” said Bullion, pleading to Alf.

  “I did. It was ten yards in front of you, just on the edge of the box.”

  “Ten yards short of pace. More like, it was a nothing ball. Come on, let’s do it right this time,” said Bullion, going up to the ball and Alf.

  He tapped it to him and moved five yards up the line as Ingot closed in and tried to condense the space.

  “Hold on, it’s my ball?”

  “No, no, no. Losing team gets possession. That’s the fair way.

  “You make up rules as you go along,” said Ingot frustrated.

  “Little one,” said Bullion to Alf as he passed it back again. “And again… and now,” he said, rushing into the box behind Ingot.

  Frenchy was where Bullion had left him and had become comfortable enough with his surroundings to enjoy introducing himself to some of the local bug population.

  This time, the ball was inch perfect from Alf as Bullion wrapped a sweet left foot straight through it, unhindered, towards the net. However, Frenchy was in mid-air, catching a privet hawkmoth that had stayed up too long on National Moth Night for his own good. His powerful legs blocked the ball and it rebounded to Ingot who volleyed it back first time into the empty net.

  “Two-nil,” shouted Ingot, doing a customary salute.

  “What the fuck just happened?” asked Alf.

  Bullion shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me. I had that pegged for the goal, and Frenchy decides to be Gordon Bloody Banks. I can’t believe we’re two down.”

  Alf motioned to Bullion to watch the game.

  “Your ball?” asked Ingot.

  The pair of them nodded.

  “Come on, ten yards back,” said Bullion, refusing to play the ball.

  Ingot backed off to the edge of the area and sat in the space taunting Bullion. “Come on, play it in.”

  Bullion played it to himself and waited for Ingot to engage who obliged and stole the ball neatly before then waltzing around Alf and clipping the ball into the net.

  “Three-Nil. Who’s your daddy?” said Ingot, celebrating wildly to the empty stands.

  “Why did you do that?” asked Alf to Bullion.

  “You weren’t open. What was I supposed to do?”

  Alf looked at him, amazed. “Keep the ball?”

  “Oh that old chestnut again. If you’d have got open in the six yard box I could have found you no problem.”

  Ingot did a lap of honour around the pitch.

  “Where’s he going?” asked Bullion.

  Alf ignored Bullion and started to walk towards the tunnel.

  “Where you going?” asked Bullion.

  “It’s sta
rting to rain. I’m done. It’s drinking time.”

  Bullion was dismayed by his partners’ fragility and weakness.

  “Gawd help us,” he said, following Alf reluctantly.

  Ingot caught up with him and put his arm around him. “Cheer up, Boss, at least you didn’t have any money on it.”

  “Ha, ha,” said Bullion. “Can you believe Diesel breath? Throwing the towel in already? I’m ready for another game, you? One on one?”

  “No Boss, I think it’s time to call it a night before we have the paramedics here.”

  Kingson was also on the move, making his big break out of The Quattro Fianco and home to his Big Mama and the bush he loved. He spied an orgy of moths hanging around the tunnel entrance lights and wanted to re-establish his vitamin deficiency levels before his epic voyage home.

  “I’m coming Big Mama,” he croaked proudly.

  The grass felt good under his feet as he made light work of getting towards his first objective.

  “Where’s Frenchy?” asked Ingot.

  Bullion had been watching him and saw that he had started to follow them. “Oh he’s right behind us, don’t worry about him,” he said of his pet.

  “What a smart frog,” said Ingot, watching.

  “Yes. He isn’t a bad keeper either. Let’s see if he makes it to the office.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Ingot.

  “If he doesn’t, I’ll come and get him. Where’s he going?” Answered Bullion.

  Ingot nodded.

  Kingson had smelt the moth dust penetrating his scent glands from a distance and quickly hopped to his banquet. Bullion glanced behind himself.

  “There’s a good frog wanting to catch daddy up, come on big man.”

  “Oh I’ll be right there, my dear.” Kingson answered.

  He climbed the wide floodlight pole and savored the ascent with each digit, closing in on his feast as the heavens gave way. He sat still and licked his eyes, waiting for the unfortunate moths to stray in his direction knowing that it was only a matter of time before he was on his way back home to his Big Mama.

  “Raindrops keep falling on my head…”