it’s a zero-sum game, with buyers and sellers, supply and demand, and profits and losses.’
‘Just don’t tell the fans,’ I said. ‘Look, Phil, I can just about forgive you for being a slippery fucking bastard. But they certainly won’t.’
8
‘Peter,’ said Bekim. ‘After Peter the Great. As a child he had red hair, too.’
‘He’s another red devil, all right,’ I said. ‘Just like his father.’
I was staring at a picture on an iPhone of a very small baby with red hair.
‘Yes, Peter is very lovely,’ I added quickly, for fear that the Russian might take offence at my calling him a devil. ‘You must be very proud, Bekim.’
‘Very proud,’ he said. ‘To be a father is to be blessed, I think. Perhaps one day, Scott, you too will have children. I hope so. I’d like you to feel the way I feel now.’
I nodded. ‘Perhaps I will. But at the present moment I’ve got my hands full looking out for my players. I really don’t know where I’d find the time to be a father.’
‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘You are a bit like our father. Only not as old.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ I said.
‘Sometimes we’re like little children. This stupid business between me and Prometheus. You must think we’re idiots.’
‘I don’t think you’re an idiot, Bekim. Let me make that quite clear. I don’t hold you responsible for what happened at all.’
Bekim nodded.
‘And now the German boy is leaving,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe it. It’s such a pity. Because I think Christoph’s one of the most talented players at this football club.’
‘Agreed,’ I said. ‘I was very much opposed to selling him; and told Vik and Phil that a sale would be over my dead body. But now he’s asked for a transfer.’
‘Can’t you talk him out of it?’
‘Believe me, I’ve tried. But his mind is made up.’
‘You know why he wants to go, of course.’
‘Yes.’
‘Because of that stupid gay-hating bastard, Prometheus.’
‘Yes. I know.’
‘My agent has asked me to make the peace with him. To shake his hand.’
‘I know. And will you?’
‘I suppose so. If Christoph is determined to leave the club then I can see no reason not to. For the good of the club, you understand. Not because I like this man. I don’t like him at all. Or what’s in his heart. But I think the feeling is mutual, don’t you? He hates me, too.’
I let that one go. There seemed little point in discussing an enmity I hoped was now over.
‘Prometheus has tweeted his regrets about offending gay people,’ I said. ‘Which is helpful to this whole affair, don’t you agree?’
‘I just wish that it would make Christoph change his mind.’
‘It doesn’t look like it, though. Anyway, we’re not short of offers for the boy so far. Barcelona has offered thirty million quid.’
‘Then he should take it. Barca is a great club. And Gerardo Martino is a great manager. Although it’s still difficult to be a maricón in some parts of Spain.’
We were at my flat in Chelsea. Bekim lived not very far away, in St Leonard’s Terrace, in a beautiful, seven-million-pound nineteenth-century Grade II listed building set back behind a private carriage drive with fine views over the rolling lawns of Burton’s Court. Inside there were red walls and red furniture as might have been expected from a man nicknamed the red devil; even the flowers in the vases were red.
‘Did you come by to talk about Christoph, Bekim? Or was there something else?’
‘There was something else, yes. I hear you’re going to Greece. To check out Olympiacos, in Piraeus.’
‘Yes. The Berlin side Hertha FC has a pre-season friendly with them. They’ve invited me along to see them play. I’m also going to check out their number two goalkeeper, Willie Nixon. Now that Didier Cassell is out of the game we’re going to need to buy a reserve goalkeeper, and soon. If Kenny Traynor gets injured we’re screwed.’
Didier Cassell had been
‘Just don’t tell the fans,’ I said. ‘Look, Phil, I can just about forgive you for being a slippery fucking bastard. But they certainly won’t.’
8
‘Peter,’ said Bekim. ‘After Peter the Great. As a child he had red hair, too.’
‘He’s another red devil, all right,’ I said. ‘Just like his father.’
I was staring at a picture on an iPhone of a very small baby with red hair.
‘Yes, Peter is very lovely,’ I added quickly, for fear that the Russian might take offence at my calling him a devil. ‘You must be very proud, Bekim.’
‘Very proud,’ he said. ‘To be a father is to be blessed, I think. Perhaps one day, Scott, you too will have children. I hope so. I’d like you to feel the way I feel now.’
I nodded. ‘Perhaps I will. But at the present moment I’ve got my hands full looking out for my players. I really don’t know where I’d find the time to be a father.’
‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘You are a bit like our father. Only not as old.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ I said.
‘Sometimes we’re like little children. This stupid business between me and Prometheus. You must think we’re idiots.’
‘I don’t think you’re an idiot, Bekim. Let me make that quite clear. I don’t hold you responsible for what happened at all.’
Bekim nodded.
‘And now the German boy is leaving,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe it. It’s such a pity. Because I think Christoph’s one of the most talented players at this football club.’
‘Agreed,’ I said. ‘I was very much opposed to selling him; and told Vik and Phil that a sale would be over my dead body. But now he’s asked for a transfer.’
‘Can’t you talk him out of it?’
‘Believe me, I’ve tried. But his mind is made up.’
‘You know why he wants to go, of course.’
‘Yes.’
‘Because of that stupid gay-hating bastard, Prometheus.’
‘Yes. I know.’
‘My agent has asked me to make the peace with him. To shake his hand.’
‘I know. And will you?’
‘I suppose so. If Christoph is determined to leave the club then I can see no reason not to. For the good of the club, you understand. Not because I like this man. I don’t like him at all. Or what’s in his heart. But I think the feeling is mutual, don’t you? He hates me, too.’
I let that one go. There seemed little point in discussing an enmity I hoped was now over.
‘Prometheus has tweeted his regrets about offending gay people,’ I said. ‘Which is helpful to this whole affair, don’t you agree?’
‘I just wish that it would make Christoph change his mind.’
‘It doesn’t look like it, though. Anyway, we’re not short of offers for the boy so far. Barcelona has offered thirty million quid.’
‘Then he should take it. Barca is a great club. And Gerardo Martino is a great manager. Although it’s still difficult to be a maricón in some parts of Spain.’
We were at my flat in Chelsea. Bekim lived not very far away, in St Leonard’s Terrace, in a beautiful, seven-million-pound nineteenth-century Grade II listed building set back behind a private carriage drive with fine views over the rolling lawns of Burton’s Court. Inside there were red walls and red furniture as might have been expected from a man nicknamed the red devil; even the flowers in the vases were red.
‘Did you come by to talk about Christoph, Bekim? Or was there something else?’
‘There was something else, yes. I hear you’re going to Greece. To check out Olympiacos, in Piraeus.’
‘Yes. The Berlin side Hertha FC has a pre-season friendly with them. They’ve invited me along to see them play. I’m also going to check out their number two goalkeeper, Willie Nixon. Now that Didier Cassell is out of the game we’re going to need to buy a reserve goalkeeper, and soon. If Kenny Traynor gets injured we’re screwed.’
Didier Cassell had been
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