Pre Season Training

Norbert

Chapter 41

Pre Season Training

I invite my seven players to attend a meeting at break time the following afternoon when both early and late shifters will be in together.

GT smiles at Dora Mae Doll and Isabel. ‘I know it’s impossible for you beauties to be away from moi, but this room is reserved for a team meeting.’

‘They’re part of the team.’

‘I like it,’ says Henry, our big central defender and a minionshit in Coagulation. ‘You pick the two best looking chicks in the department to act as cheerleaders. Put them in Ra-Ra skirts, tight jumpers and give them a couple of pom-poms to wave. Create a good atmosphere will that.’

‘They’re playing up front.’

‘They’re what?’ says Colin, the goalie and a minionshit in Blood Bank. ‘The only chance they’ve got to score is in the pub after the game.’

‘With me,’ says GT.

Isabel shoots him the finger. She is still ignoring him.

‘Dougie is the new captain,’ I announce.

‘No way,’ roars GT.

‘You no longer have the respect of your team mates.’ I look at Isabel, whose lips twitch a millimetre in response. ‘And you know you could never be captain under my management. Dougie wears the armband.’

The left back, who is also a minionshit in Coagulation, nods his thanks.

GT is outraged. ‘How can Dougie be captain? He’s as camp as a row of pink tents.’ He nods to Asif, a minionshit in Blood Bank. ‘We’ve already got one ethnic minority, two nobgobbling women and a dwarf manager. A poncey cricketer is a step too far.’

‘You forgot to include the two-timing clit licker,’ says Isabel.

I hold up a hand for calm. ‘West Haem United are an equal opportunities team.’

‘Since when have we been called West Haem United?’ snaps GT.

‘Since I became the manager. I think it’s rather clever.’

‘It is pretty good, you have to admit,’ says the new captain.

I have no worries about Dougie being up to the rigours of playing football. Compared to facing a hard leather ball coming at you at ninety miles an hour, kicking a bag of wind about is child’s play.

‘However diverse the mix, we’ll still get thrashed out of sight,’ says Colin. 

‘You have to think positive, so I’ve read. We’re going to win,’ I say.

‘Yeah, right,’ says GT. ‘Fair and square?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ That gets their attention. ‘That’s where you’ve been going wrong all these years. First training session is at the social centre on Saturday morning.’

Through getting to know Foultongue better, I had asked if we could train there.

*

Vera lets us in at 10am.

‘How appropriate,’ says GT. ‘We train in the same hall used by the loony tunes.’

I see Vera glower, but she keeps quiet, clearly wanting to protect her other life.

‘I note there is a distinct absence of balls,’ says Colin. ‘A prerequisite for football training, I would have thought?’

I knew I’d forgotten something. ‘Today is more of a tactical session,’ I bluster. ‘Isabel, Dora Mae, let me start with you. You are both exceedingly beautiful, and I am sure you are both experts in the art of coquetry?’

Dora Mae lifts a hand to slap me, but Dougie comes to my rescue. ‘He means flirting.’

She lowers her hand and smiles to the boys. ‘I suppose I do have a bit of a reputation as a bunny-teaser?’

‘Not half,’ says Henry. ‘She told me she doesn’t wear knickers at work.’

‘Me too,’ says everyone else, including me.

Isabel sticks out her mighty chest and sneers: ‘I don’t need to flirt.’

‘And I don’t need to dress like a tart,’ Dora Mae snaps back.

Isabel is wearing thigh-hugging beige jogging pants and a tight top with red and white hoops. She looks like a raspberry and cream flan.

‘Ladies, please,’ I beg. ‘What I’m asking is that you make the most of your considerable charms to distract the opposition.’

‘Certainly works on me,’ says Henry.

‘If we are to succeed, you have to turn on the tease at exactly the right time. It is critical you do what I say, when I say.’

Isabel says: ‘Won’t that be transcending the rules?’

‘The rules you’ll be breaking haven’t even been written,’ says Foultongue, with a smile.

‘And what if it goes too far?’ says Dora Mae.

I reassure them that nothing untoward will happen.

‘They won’t be allowed to get away with it, anyway,’ says GT. ‘Jembediah is a strict disciplinarian with a reputation for dealing harshly with offenders. Someone gets sent off every year.’

The referee, Jembediah Maine-Rhodes, the Chief Technician in Microbiology, is a proper Sunday league referee and he hates Haematology and Biochemistry equally, so his impartiality isn’t in doubt.

I turn to the guys. ‘GT, Henry and Asif, I want you to mark the opposition as tightly as possible to stop them from scoring.’

‘I would never have thought of that,’ mocks GT.

‘What about me?’ Dougie asks. ‘What’s my role, apart from looking as gorgeous as the girls?’

‘Are any of the chemistry lads like you?’

He pouts at me, sourly. ‘You make it sound like a disease.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’ve led a sheltered life and I’m not very well attuned to the world.’

‘As if we hadn’t noticed,’ says GT.

‘What Norbie means,’ says Dora Mae, ‘is how is your gay radar?’

‘It’s gaydar, and it is very well attuned thank you very much. I can spot a right arm fast bowler a mile off.’

‘Would you be able to tell, during the game, just from looking at them?’ I ask.

‘Darling, I’ll be able to smell it.’

‘If you do pick up a vibe, I want you to lead them on and get them to chase you all over the pitch. Keep them occupied and tire them out. See what I’m driving at?’

‘What happens if I get caught?’

‘You get bum-tickled,’ says GT.

‘I should wear your cricketer’s box just to be on the safe side,’ is Colin’s advice.

‘What I mean is, am I allowed to get his number?’

‘After the game.’ Something I’ve been meaning to ask Dougie springs to mind. ‘By the way, do you know a chap called Louie, plays for Macarbrough?’

‘Oh yes, he’s our star all rounder.’

Isabel asks: ‘What’s an all rounder?’

‘He bats and he bowls,’ I tell her.

Dougie shakes his head. ‘He also plays for both sides.’

‘In the same match?’ she asks. ‘Doesn’t he get tired?’

Dougie sighs theatrically at the poor girl’s ignorance of the noble game. ‘He moves the ball both ways off the seam, dear.’

Foultongue stifles her next question by pressing a finger against Isabel’s lips. ‘You really don’t want to know. Trust me.’ She claps her hands to gain everyone’s attention. ‘The kit has arrived. I want you to don the new outfits for a fitting.’

‘What’s the point?’ says GT. ‘A football shirt comes in small, medium and large, or if Norbert was playing, Tiny Tots. What else is there?’

‘It doesn’t affect the guys, apart from the captain, but the girls’ kit will need some alterations. And I happen to be a master seamstress.’

Ten minutes later the whole team is lined up wearing their blood-red shirts with white piping round the sleeves and collar, white shorts and matching red socks.

Henry holds out the front of his shirt to indicate the logo emblazoned across the chest. ‘Who are Nickel Trinkets?’

‘It’s a gift shop that’s recently opened on the seafront,’ I tell him.

‘They sell trinkets, made out of nickel,’ Isabel confirms, with a sneer at GT. ‘The cheapest metal you can buy a girl.’

He smiles at her and shrugs. ‘A man with my pulling power has to budget.’

‘They are sponsoring our kit,’ I say. ‘Help save a bit of money.’

‘Couldn’t you get a drug company or a medical equipment manufacturer?’ says Asif.

‘The big firms weren’t interested, so I had to ask locally. The people in Nickel Trinkets recognized me the instant I walked into the shop.’ I hold up a hand. ‘Don’t ask. I didn’t fall backwards over the sea wall on purpose.’

‘It’s a nice colour,’ says Dora Mae. ‘Very appropriate for a team called West Haem United.’

‘What’s the insignia?’ says Henry, looking a little too closely at Isabel’s magnificent chest.

‘It’s a double-stranded helix of DNA, to signify we are a laboratory medicine team.’

‘It looks more like copulating snakes.’

‘How appropriate,’ says Isabel, ‘seeing as we have one in the team.’

GT opens his mouth and then closes it again.

Vera walks up and down the line a couple of times, stops in front of Isabel and removes a measuring tape from around her neck. ‘Tits out, belly in.’

‘I can tell you my measurements.’

GT leers. ‘So can I.’

‘Would you like me to hold the tape for you?’ Henry asks, hungrily.

‘Stop drooling and get back in line,’ Vera orders.

She notes Isabel’s measurements and then Dora Mae’s. Finally she approaches Dougie and sticks a finger into the waistband of his shorts. ‘You won’t be wearing these, sweetie pie.’ She wraps the tape round his waist. ‘I’ve got something very special planned for you.’

‘I wouldn’t build your hopes up, dear.’