million was just a guess. That’s why I need you. To tell me how much we need and where we can get it from.’
‘I’m not sure I can do that,’ I said.
‘Sure you can.’
He looked at me steadily. He meant it. Guy really thought that I could find him the money to put this thing together.
‘You know what’s really good about this idea?’ he said.
‘What?’
‘The Americans can’t do it. It’s soccer. The Americans are incapable of understanding soccer. They can dominate everything else on the Internet, but they can’t dominate this. If there is ever going to be a global soccer brand on the Internet, it’s got to come from Europe.’
‘That’s true, I suppose.’
‘Admit it. It’s a good idea, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose it is,’ I agreed. And it was. I couldn’t deny the Internet was growing exponentially. And football was a huge source of entertainment for people throughout the world. But I couldn’t quite see Guy as the man to take advantage of that.
‘Look, you’re dead right,’ Guy went on. ‘For this to work, someone is going to have to persuade a lot of talented people to take big risks for no guaranteed return. And I’m not just talking about employees. We’ll need all kinds of partners: technology, marketing, content, merchandising, financial. That’s where I come in. I can persuade people to do things they don’t really want to do.’
‘Can you?’ I asked.
‘Can’t I?’
I drained my pint. I could feel myself getting sucked in, and I wanted to escape before it was too late. ‘I’ve got to go.’
‘Look at it this way, if it works, we’ll make millions. If it fails, we’ll have a lot of fun.’
‘Goodbye, Guy.’
He pulled a brown A4 envelope out of a shoulder bag and thrust it into my hands. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’
I left him at the table and fought my way through the crowd of drinkers towards Tower Hill station. I looked for a litter-bin to toss the envelope into, but there weren’t any around, so I stuffed it into my briefcase.
Me work for Guy? No chance.
6
I flopped into the only empty seat in the carriage. A miracle. Normally I didn’t mind standing, but that morning I felt as if the world owed me a little something. Not much. Perhaps one journey a month sitting down for the price of my tube card. Travelling to work was always a nightmare. Travelling back wasn’t so bad: I didn’t usually leave the office until well after the crush had thinned.
I opened my briefcase to take out the Financial Times and saw the brown envelope Guy had stuffed into my hands the night before. I hesitated. I had planned to throw it away, but I was curious. Curious to see what had Guy so worked up, and curious to see what he was planning to do about it. Guy was certainly no businessman, so I wasn’t expecting much. I pulled out the envelope and opened it. Inside was a neatly bound business plan of about twenty pages or so. I started to read.
It began with the two-page Executive Summary, which was much the same as Guy had described in his ‘elevator pitch’. Then there were discussions of the potential market, revenue-generating models, competition, technology, implementation, and some very sketchy sections on management and financial analysis. With the exception of the last two sections, it was good. Very good. Every time a question popped into my mind, the answer appeared on the next page. Like a good novel, it drew me in. It was carefully researched and, apart from a couple of grandiose claims on the first page, it was understated, which made it more powerful. I was surprised by the quality of the work and a little ashamed at my earlier underestimation of its author.
I was three-quarters of the way through when my train pulled into Bank. I fought my way through London’s most labyrinthine underground station to the surface and headed for my usual coffee shop. Rather than taking the cappuccino away, I decided to drink it at a stool by the window and finish
‘I’m not sure I can do that,’ I said.
‘Sure you can.’
He looked at me steadily. He meant it. Guy really thought that I could find him the money to put this thing together.
‘You know what’s really good about this idea?’ he said.
‘What?’
‘The Americans can’t do it. It’s soccer. The Americans are incapable of understanding soccer. They can dominate everything else on the Internet, but they can’t dominate this. If there is ever going to be a global soccer brand on the Internet, it’s got to come from Europe.’
‘That’s true, I suppose.’
‘Admit it. It’s a good idea, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose it is,’ I agreed. And it was. I couldn’t deny the Internet was growing exponentially. And football was a huge source of entertainment for people throughout the world. But I couldn’t quite see Guy as the man to take advantage of that.
‘Look, you’re dead right,’ Guy went on. ‘For this to work, someone is going to have to persuade a lot of talented people to take big risks for no guaranteed return. And I’m not just talking about employees. We’ll need all kinds of partners: technology, marketing, content, merchandising, financial. That’s where I come in. I can persuade people to do things they don’t really want to do.’
‘Can you?’ I asked.
‘Can’t I?’
I drained my pint. I could feel myself getting sucked in, and I wanted to escape before it was too late. ‘I’ve got to go.’
‘Look at it this way, if it works, we’ll make millions. If it fails, we’ll have a lot of fun.’
‘Goodbye, Guy.’
He pulled a brown A4 envelope out of a shoulder bag and thrust it into my hands. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’
I left him at the table and fought my way through the crowd of drinkers towards Tower Hill station. I looked for a litter-bin to toss the envelope into, but there weren’t any around, so I stuffed it into my briefcase.
Me work for Guy? No chance.
6
I flopped into the only empty seat in the carriage. A miracle. Normally I didn’t mind standing, but that morning I felt as if the world owed me a little something. Not much. Perhaps one journey a month sitting down for the price of my tube card. Travelling to work was always a nightmare. Travelling back wasn’t so bad: I didn’t usually leave the office until well after the crush had thinned.
I opened my briefcase to take out the Financial Times and saw the brown envelope Guy had stuffed into my hands the night before. I hesitated. I had planned to throw it away, but I was curious. Curious to see what had Guy so worked up, and curious to see what he was planning to do about it. Guy was certainly no businessman, so I wasn’t expecting much. I pulled out the envelope and opened it. Inside was a neatly bound business plan of about twenty pages or so. I started to read.
It began with the two-page Executive Summary, which was much the same as Guy had described in his ‘elevator pitch’. Then there were discussions of the potential market, revenue-generating models, competition, technology, implementation, and some very sketchy sections on management and financial analysis. With the exception of the last two sections, it was good. Very good. Every time a question popped into my mind, the answer appeared on the next page. Like a good novel, it drew me in. It was carefully researched and, apart from a couple of grandiose claims on the first page, it was understated, which made it more powerful. I was surprised by the quality of the work and a little ashamed at my earlier underestimation of its author.
I was three-quarters of the way through when my train pulled into Bank. I fought my way through London’s most labyrinthine underground station to the surface and headed for my usual coffee shop. Rather than taking the cappuccino away, I decided to drink it at a stool by the window and finish
Similar Books
