defender meets midfielder: season 3, part 5
the legend
StratonOw. Fuck.Stephen Kerr awoke, groggily, with the scent of wine still on his breath. He nearly retched upon getting the whiff of it; and immediately memories started flowing back. Hazy, painful to think of (in the more literal sense; he could
feel the blood coursing through his brain). There was a napkin. Many football clubs. An excellent dish of spaghetti and pizza.
He took stock of his surroundings, making sure not to spin too much; after all, he was still quite disoriented. There was the napkin, with lots of blue ink on it; and when he patted himself down, there was a pink name card in there too.
Francesco Raviolo. The man who’d brought Stephen out last night.
So the meal hadn’t been a bad dream, after all. Neither had the wine, evidently. As the sun rose, he began feeling more grimy.
Eugh. Time for a shower.
But when he got up, and swiped the dozens of notifications (as usual) on his phone away, there was one he simply couldn’t ignore.
Dan Galbraith
Online now
Heard about whatever’s going on. I’m in Tumbra for a few weeks. Message me when you’re free, and we’ll go out for dinner. Private; we can talk about whatever there. I’ve got the restaurant on speed-dial, they know me. They’ll clear a table for us, stat.
Plus it’d be nice to catch up.
Cheers.
Stephen smiled; after all, he hadn’t seen Dan for a long, long time. It’d be nice to catch up once more.
(Still) Straton
A Few Days LaterAnother night, another restaurant, another meal; well, ignoring the fact that Stephen had spent the entirety of the day recovering from the massive hangover the wine from yesterday had given him. This time, he was appropriately dressed for the occasion; ignoring, of course, the hoodie and face-mask he was wearing to avoid attention.
The cover had worked; somehow Stephen hadn’t been harassed by anyone. He did, however, take great pains to cross the street and whenever he saw someone wearing a Straton FC jersey. He hated himself for thinking this way; after all, he still loved the club, and their supporters. To instinctively avoid them, now, hurt him; but he wanted to be safe.
But who knew if that person wearing the jersey turned out to be one of the yobbos outside the stadium who’d called Stephen a traitor? Who knew what he’d do to Stephen if he knew?
It wasn’t a chance he wanted to take. Best to avoid anyone who might’ve been a supporter of the Senators.
A few days had passed since Francesco’s meal/incident, and he hadn’t been in contact since; though there were rumours of a bid from a certain Chromatik club where his close friend, Trudy Harrison, was playing. Francesco hadn’t twiited anything about the matter, however; when he asked Trudy, she was reluctant to divulge anything; lest some nebulous news about insider trading happened. She seemed happy to hear of the rumour, however; so it at least looked like fresh news to her.
And now here he was, in the middle of the city. Straton was a beautiful city that often went unappreciated; the River Quernmore ebbing and flowing through the middle of the city, opening up into the sea near the Quernmore Barrage; the skyline of the city flashing various colours, the new, steel-and-glass behemoths rising above the old city with its Baroque architecture on the other bank. Here, new and old met; here coursed the beating heart of Tumbra.
This particular restaurant — Papa Wilson’s — was renowned for its exclusivity and its prices. Though in any case it might have been argued that the former had led to the latter. Regardless, they were a steakhouse; and were renowned for the best steaks in Tumbra. The original founder of the steakhouse had long since passed on, but his son had captured every bit of what made the steaks from Wilson’s so good; and it remained a meal of a lifetime for anyone.
He waited for about fifteen minutes in front of the steakhouse, before Daniel arrived; and immediately, when Dan smiled at him as he greeted Stephen, he smiled back, forgetting most of his worries that had plagued him up to that point. Dan had a certain charm, an effect on people around him; an easygoing, casual vibe that disarmed people almost immediately. Now entering middle-age, he’d packed on even
more charm; growing out a beard after going nearly two decades of his life clean-shaven made him look even more mature. And, Stephen nearly hesitated to add, really good-looking.
So, then, here was Daniel Galbraith; legend of the Tumbran pitch; scorer of over three hundred goals in four hundred appearances for Straton; sixty-one goals in sixty-seven appearances for the national team (though, unfortunately, before the WCC era, which meant those caps counted for naught); leader, marshal of men, the list went on, and on, and on. A living legend of the game, who was now playing out the waning days of his career in Quebec.
It was a mystery why he’d moved; why he left the high life in Straton behind to go to Perce, and be content with the mid-table in Quebec & Shingoryeo. But anyone who’d looked, or even talked to Dan since the move a few years ago, would know almost immediately. Dan looked, felt almost younger; smiled much more often.
It was one of those smiles that greeted Stephen Kerr outside Papa Wilson’s Steakhouse. And immediately, they were ushered in.
“Take your time, Stephen. We’ve got the whole evening ahead of us. Now personally I recommend the ribeye; they’ve got this way of cooking it such that the fat drips out, making it a much better experience. Very juicy, very flavourful.”
“Mmm-hmm. Think I’ll go with that.”“How would you like it cooked? And if you say anything over medium you might as well delete my contact from your phone.”
“Rare will do fine, I think. Always did enjoy it on the rawer side. I’ll have mash for my side.”“Atta boy. Waiter,” Daniel hardly had to raise his voice before a cleanly-suited waiter appeared next to the table. “Two ribeye, one blue rare, one rare. Large, please. And I think we’ll have the, uh, mash on the side for both of us. That’ll be it for now, we’ll order again if we would like more.”
“Certainly.” The waiter scurried off.
Daniel turned to Stephen, and smiled gently. Not much had changed from the last time they’d had a meal like this; except the previous time they were sat at a street food store. Dan always had an appreciation for street food; he thought it was how life was meant to be lived, and how food should be eaten. The circumstances, of course, called for a different kind of place; and so Dan had chosen this. Privacy was guaranteed; the two were in a booth near a corner of the restaurant.
“Tell me everything, Stephen. I want to hear the full story from your point of view,” he said, kindly.
And the words began spilling out, starting from the very beginning; Stephen going to Chromatika, the negotiations failing, coming home, seeing his name being used as a swear word, Lakewood and Serrapince…
All of the events of the past week or so came pouring out. It was cathartic in a way, and he really just continued. Everything. Daniel’s expression changed throughout the story that Stephen weaved; it changed, from neutral, to a frown, an angry frown, confusion, mirth (especially the part about Francesco), and in the end settled on...concerned.
“I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through. You are a very strong person”
“You left Straton, too, Dan.”“At least my departure was somewhat amicable. Even if my reasons for leaving weren’t. You remember what I told you? About why I left?”
“That you wanted to try somewhere new to play?”“Well, I wasn’t lying. But, if I’m being perfectly honest, I didn’t really feel like carrying the team along for much longer. I felt it’d become the same thing every season. Bayh, Morrison, Whitlam, they all came in promising new additions to the squad, to finally get that title the club so desired. And after five minutes of seeing me play they decided that actually, the squad didn’t need new additions. I could do the job just fine.”
“Sounds...quite like Ted.”“I got sick and tired of it, to be honest. Whomever we got in, typically didn’t do the job they needed to do. Sank onto the benches, then got flipped a few seasons later for a loss. And people ask me why the club is in a shit state right now. Simple. Because they didn’t know how to invest.”
“So I decided, before the start of my last season; fuck this. I’m out. I’m not going to show up and lug your asses through the mud every Friday or Saturday just to get you lot up to third. Or second. Or wherever it was that we finished. And so I decided to leave.”
“But the club…”“The difference between the two of us is that I’d done everything with the club. And I think some people were glad to see the back of me. You, though…? Your story hadn’t been written yet. Yet they still expected the same amount of loyalty. And for what? Two thousand a week? Fucking hell.”
“And you’re enjoying life now, overseas?”“Yes. I get that you have reservations; but trust me. It’ll do you a world of good. You know Julie? Julie Hardaker, yeah? She joined Perce a few weeks after me, a few weeks after you, well, you won the championship. I managed to convince her to come over here; and I’ve been guiding her since. It’s stuff like that that I’ve properly missed, you know? Helping someone get a leg up. Pity I won’t be doing it for much longer, though.”
“What did you get from — wait, what did you say?”“Moving overseas? Well, for one thing, there’s the culture. If, as you said, there’s a boatload of clubs that are in for you, then you’ve certainly got your pick, yeah? Embrace it, Stephen. Sometimes a change of scenery would do you good. Plus, you’d get the press off your back.”
“No, no, about not doing it much longer.”“Isn’t it simple, Stephen? I’m going to the Olympics. I’m going back to Perce, for one more season. Then I’m retiring.”
“R-r-retire?”“Mm-hm.”
“That’s not —”“What’s the matter?”
“Well, I never thought that — I always thought —”“I’m thirty-six, Stephen. If I don't retire soon there’s a bit of a problem on our hands.”
“I —”“Let’s not talk about that for now, though. Going back to moving overseas…”
“It’s a big decision, Dan. I’m not sure if I’m able to make it. There’s just so much to learn, so much to do...I need time.”“Something you don’t have.”
“Yeah. I don’t feel safe here, Dan. I wish I did.”“Do you trust me, Stephen?”
“Since the day we met. Well, the day since we properly got to know each other. Yeah. Why?”“I think you’ll do brilliantly overseas. You’ve never been afraid to strike out on your own. Why stop now?”
“Well…”“Remember when all of us were paired up, back in that summer camp when you were just sixteen, and well — you were tasked with stopping me while I was dribbling? Not many people would’ve gone in on me. Firstly, there was the chance I’d have made you look stupid. Then there was the chance you’d have injured me. And finally, well, you were up against...me. But you gave it all you got. And, well, you got me.”
“First try.”“First try. And we both clattered into each other. And then we both laughed. That was the moment I noticed you, Stephen. At that moment? I knew you were something special. Brave, determined, always willing to give things a fair go — hell, your best go.”
“Yeah. But what does this have to do with, well, me?”“I believe you’ll be able to tackle life abroad like how you tackled me that cloudy day in Xinhua. Well. Robustly. Chase your dreams, Stephen.”
“None...well, none of the clubs…”Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the food. Juicy, brown steaks arrived; the garnishing was only improved by the generous serving of mashed potatoes on the side for both of them. A dark brown sauce formed a pool in the middle of the potatoes; under the lights of the restaurant, it shimmered, making it even more inviting.
“We’ll eat first, then we’ll go over that. Some people eat to live; some people live to eat. I believe your friend from a few days ago was the latter. Well, I’m not afraid to say that I’m the same. Dig in.”
Somewhere else in Straton“And you think you’ll really be able to get six million?”“Well, one of the clubs we’re talking to has bid that much, Mr. Whiting. You can’t blame us for only accepting that bid. After all, he did match the club’s valuation.”“My client will not talk to D. Tommy Sanford’s glory-hunting project.”“Well, then we’re out of options, then, aren’t we?”“Believe me when I say that you are possibly the most stubborn, obstinate, pigheaded person that I’ve ever negotiated with.”“I’ll take that as a compliment.”“You do know the tide of public opinion is swaying against you, right? More and more people think Stephen should be let go.”“The tide of public opinion doesn’t count for much, Mr. Whiting, surely you must know this by now. We don’t do business because someone thinks they want to move away from the club.”“When your own players are twiiting about it, publicly?”“What?”“Leo Hooper, @therealleo, just a few minutes ago: I love my brother @stephenkerr, and think he should definitely be allowed to choose where he wants to play next if he doesn’t want to stay here anymore, muscle emoji, muscle emoji, grinning emoji. Leo’s not the only one, you know. Unless you’d rather I read out more twiits?”“Listen, can we pick this discussion again later?” The man on the other side of the line sounded considerably more harried than before.
“Sure. Only if you’re calling to confirm that you’re allowing all the bids. And my sources have informed me that Chromatik has bid, too? I think my client will be considerably interested in that bid.”The line went dead.
Papa Wilson’s Steakhouse“Told you it’d be good.”
“Christ, this is fantastic.”“Yes. But back to business.”
“Really?”“Can’t run from life, Stephen.”
“Not even you?”“I’m thirty-six.
That’s life catching up with me.”
“Fine.”“You managed to detail whatever Francesco wrote on the napkin? Like, on your phone? You’d look pretty weird lugging that around wherever you went.”
“Yeap. Here it is…” Stephen passed Daniel his phone; Daniel looked through the list of clubs, muttering as he went. “No, no, no, maybe, no, definitely a possibility…”
Stephen’s phone buzzed. “Hm. It’s your agent, Stephen. Says here that Chromatik have bid for you.”
His heart leaping, Stephen almost dove over the table to grab his phone; and it was true.
John (agent)
Online now
Chromatik’ve put in a bid. Respond ASAP. Your teammates are fighting for you to be able to go.
And his phone started buzzing. Trudy’s contact popped up on screen.
Straton Players Group Chat. His phone started ringing. And his breathing started getting quicker and quicker, the world started spinning, Daniel seemed like he was going further and further away…
It was like that night in Z’ai’ai, all over again.
“Stephen? Stephen, are you okay? Stephen…”