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deepdisireslonging · 5 years

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Family Found Part 39: Misplaced Second Chances

Hunter and Stephanie show up to watch the Reader’s every move. They are witnesses to some of the hardest choices she’s had to make in weeks.

Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence, angst

Word Count: 3930

Note: Everything is coming together perfectly. Longer chapter, but it reads quick. I’ve gotten most of the fights down to tiny paragraphs, yay! Please let me know your thoughts on this series with reblogs and comments. I appreciate every single one. Enjoy!

Part 1: Welcome to the Team

Part 38: Squirrels in a Row (Royal Rumble)

For once, it looked like the show was going to run smoothly. You were in the garage clearing up some last-minute details when a long, black limo pulled up. It pulled to a stop in front of you and the driver rushed around to open the door. You swallowed dryly. Triple H got out first. He held out his hand, and Stephanie took the assistance. Plastering on a smile, you welcomed them.

“Hunter. Stephanie. What a surprise. It’s good to see you-“

Hunter grinned back. “Thank you. We tried to call ahead, but your line was busy.”

You shivered. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to miss you. All the general manager stuff, you know how it is. I’ve got quite the show for everyone tonight. Are you going to be watching from your box?”

Sharing a look, Stephanie stepped forward and wrapped her arm around your shoulders. “Actually, no. We’ve been impressed with how things are going, and we wanted to watch from backstage. See how you’ve had such good control over everything. Be your shadows for tonight. We hope that’s not a problem.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a test. “No. Not at all. Right this way. The first match will be starting in just a minute.” You led them out of the garage. They followed at your shoulders like crows’ wings.

***

The placements of the NXT move-ups were still finalizing, but Heavy Machinery wanted to prove that they belonged on Raw. They had challenged the well-established team of Heath Slater and Rhyno.

“If they win this match,” Cole mused, “do you think they’ll challenge AOP?”

Renee thought for a second, then said, “it’s a possibility. Depending on how tonight goes, I think they’ll do great. I’m more worried what will happen to them if they lose this match.”

“Don’t jinx them, Renee,” Corey sputtered. They digressed into a disagreement as the bell rang.

Hunter beamed as he watched from a backstage tv. Occasionally you glanced up from your clipboard to catch Slater dropping Knight. Or Dozovic triumphantly grinning as Rhyno bounced off of him.

The referee had a surprisingly difficult time keeping up with both teams. The tags were frequent but displaced enough to show off each wrestler and their skills. Rhyno engaged Knight on the floor, keeping him from entering the ring to help his partner. His back was turned as the upper hand switched to Dozovic, who did the worm before dropping on Slater. Knight escaped and doubled teamed just long enough to help his partner set up a pin, then kept Rhyno from saving him. Heavy Machinery won the match, already cheering with the fans like Raw was home.

***

Later in the show, there were going to be three matches for the women’s elimination chamber match. Bayley and Natalya were backstage talking about their matches when Alexa walked up. “Well look at you two being all buddy-buddy.”

“Keep walking Alexa,” Natalya shot. Bayley wrapped her arm across her shoulders, holding her from stepping to Alexa.

Miss Bliss gasped and fluttered hand to her chest. “I was just making an observation.”

Bayley stepped between them. “I doubt that. But I’m willing to give you the benefit of a doubt. Any other observations before you… go away?” Bayley stared at her pointedly. Patiently.

Just into Alexa’s plans. She smiled sweetly. “Well, I’m more confused than anything. Sasha and Bayley being in the chamber match sorta makes sense. But, Natty, if you and Rhonda are such good friends, why are you fighting each other tonight? Only one of you can have the spot.” When all Natalya did was growl, she turned her attention back to Bayley and hopped to sit on a crate. “Come on, help a girl out. You know better than anyone how delicate friendship is. It’s the reason you’re holding on so tight to Sasha, right?”

In a split second of pause, Natalya was the one ready to hold back her friend. “Sure, like you’ve never turned on anyone, Alexa. Turn before you get dropped, right? Fine. As the one on the other side of that exchange, yes, Sasha hurt me. But I am still my own woman. My own power. Hell in a Cell proved that. Still, we’ve got something working here. It’s not perfect, but it’s what I’ve got. So, yeah. I’m going to stick to Sasha. Partially to watch my back, and partially to watch hers. Because that’s what friends do. You have to do what you have to do. You can’t wait for your opportunities, you have to make them.”

Natalya guided Bayley away as her voice weakened towards the end. But Alexa kept going, pushing for all she could.

“Speaking of opportunities, Bayley,” Alexa shifted in her seat, “can you explain why both you and Sasha are going after the women’s championship? I mean, aren’t you guys already number one contenders for the tag titles? Sounds like you’re spread yourselves a little thin. Especially for such a delicate friendship.”

Bayley smirked. “Well, as far as either of us can tell, there hasn’t been a woman holding double titles. Sasha and I would like to try for it. The Riott Squad can wait.”

Alexa tilted her head. “Do you think that’s a good idea? Making them wait so you two can go after different titles? I don’t know, Bayley. Sounds greedy and poorly planned if you ask me.”

“Well then it’s a good thing we didn’t ask you, isn’t it?”

Natalya stepping into Alexa’s face inspired the small blonde to retreat from her seat. “And when did this turn into a Moment of Bliss?”

Alexa put up her hands in defense. “I was just curious. Geeze.” She walked away, leaving the other women to process what Bayley had said.

***

Braun already had his spot in the Universal elimination chamber, but he wanted a match anyway. So you gave him one with Bobby Lashley. He was running on a high. Lio Rush was flipped several times outside of the ring, no matter how fast he ran. As for in the ring, Lashley was putting the monster among men through his paces. He had a goal to gain himself.

“We’ve just been told that if Bobby Lashley wins this match, then Y/N will give him another chance to get into a chamber match. Well, how about that?” Cole said.

“Sounds nice of her.” Renee mused. “Except for the part where giving him another opportunity takes it away from someone else.” Corey cut off her next words by telling her to hush and to watch the almighty Lashley perform.

Either way, the second chance was not to be. Braun had enough. He caught a second wind, using it to break Lashley down. And with Lio already out of the picture, there was no one to cause a shift with a distraction. As Braun’s arm was lifted in victory, Dr. M’s laugh sounded over the speakers. He did not appear. But his presence and approval were clear.

***

Behind you, Stephanie and Hunter had nodded their heads in approval of the match, though Hunter did question the double chance even with someone as talented as Lashley. “Agreed, both powerhouses here on Raw. But why such favoritism, Y/N? I thought you were better than that?”

You sputtered. “It’s not supposed to be. Braun is a great wrestler, but he needs something to do every week or things can get a little… destructive. And I knew I could convince Lashley to fight if I promised another chance for the chamber, either of them. Maybe the promise was a little underhanded, but both wrestlers got what they wanted. Braun his match. Lashley his chance, which motivated him during the fight. And the crowd got what they wanted.”

“All around a successful addition to the show,” Stephanie finished. “A great job, Y/N.”

“Thanks.” The word stuck like glue in your throat. You let out a sigh of strangled relief as Seth and Dean walked into the space. “Hey, Seth. Dean. What can I help you guys with? Can’t promise much, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Seth shifted the Universal title on his shoulder. “What do you mean you can’t offer much? You’re the general manager.”

Stephanie spoke up before you could. “And as such, she deserves respect-“

You flinched. “Don’t fire me for saying so, but didn’t you guys say you were going to be my shadows? I didn’t think shadows gave their opinions.” Inside your chest, your heart froze in place. Stephanie’s expression froze too, then slithered into a smile that she shared with her husband.

Hunter’s cheek twitched a smirk. “We did say that. Our apologies. Please continue.”

With a nod and a shuddering breath, you did. “Yeah, I’m GM, but the show is pretty set. There’s not room for another match. So if that’s what you’re here to ask about-“ Their disappointment was immediate. “Um, but there’s some chamber tournament matches soon. Seth, why don’t you join commentary. Get a front row seat for your possible future opponent?”

“Opponent? You mean opponents? I’m the champion. I’m in the elimination chamber match, right?”

The fire in his eyes frightened you, especially with your shadows watching. “Rollins, can we discuss details later? I don’t have room for a match for you tonight. Commentary or nothing?” you shrugged. He looked past you to Hunter and Stephanie, then gave you a nod. You focused on Dean. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I’ve got for you this week, Dean. But maybe next week? I’m still working on it.”

Dean did the same thing as Seth, glancing over your shoulder. With a grumble, he said, “fine.”

“I’m doing the best I can, Dean.”

“I know.” He rotated his shoulders and looked at Seth. “You heading to commentary?” When he nodded, Dean tapped his forearm. “I’ll walk with you.”

You watched them leave as Hunter complimented you on how you handled it. “You did good. It was a simple no, and they took it well. Who’s been helping you stand up for yourself?”

Over your shoulder your tossed, “Sheamus and Cesaro. They’ve been training me how to deal with guys bigger than myself.” With a huff, you finished, “though I never thought I’d have to use it with either of them.”

They talked amongst themselves like nothing had happened. “I need some coffee. Catering?” Stephanie asked. Hunter agreed. “You need anything, Y/N?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you turned to face them. “No, I’m good. Thank you.” Hunter gave you a heavy pat on your shoulder on their way out. This whole thing was starting to make you nervous.

***

The Riott Squad fought a local team, easily squashing them. Charly caught up with Sasha and Rhonda at a backstage tv for an interview. “The Riott Squad is proving themselves to be very dominant. How do both of you think your chances of becoming tag champions are going to go tonight? Especially you, Rhonda, since you’re fighting Natalya tonight?”

Sasha snickered as Rhonda stumbled looking for something to say. “We’re going to be fine. We’ve fought in the past for the Raw women’s title before. Beaten each other for it. Working together is just obvious. We’re two of the best in the business. Why have dozens of matches against one another when we could work together. I mean, Sasha and Bayley are doing the same thing.”

The other woman shrugged. “You could see it like that, I guess.”

“Guess?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m teaming with Bayley because it means she’s not fighting me for a title. I get to compete for a title, she gets one too as part of the set, and we stay out of each other’s hair.”

Charly grimaced. “So, teaming with Bayley… is a means to an end.”

Again, Sasha shrugged. “You said it, not me. But if I win the elimination chamber, maybe I can go my own way again.” Rhonda looked at her with a grimace, not liking that stance at all.

In the background, Alexa walked by having heard everything. She looked between the women, unnoticed, and then carried on her way.

***

Also backstage, Dolph flipped his vest over his shoulder and rounded a corner. He bumped off a tall torso, smiling when he saw it was Drew McIntyre. The Scotsman growled, “I told you to stay out of my way.”

Dolph shouldered past him. “I don’t know why you’re so irritated. You’re still champion, aren’t you? For now. Don’t get your kilt in a twist.”

Drew roughly grabbed his upper arm. “If you think I’m going to let you hold your actions last week over my head for more than this moment, you’ve got another thing coming.” He glared at him until Dolph raised his hands in surrender. Adding a bit of a shove, he released him. “Where are you going so happily?”

“To challenge an old friend for a spot in a well-deserved opportunity. For your title, come to think of it. See you in the Elimination Chamber.” He chuckled and left for Gorilla as his music started.

A few minutes later, Tyler Breeze entered the arena with Dana Brook at his side. She stayed ringside for the match, giving Breeze notes and helping him watch his back. This addition to the match was not in Dolph’s plan. Her attention for detail was making the match more difficult for him. And his attention to her was making it easier for Breeze to land punches and kicks. Dolph shook his head, refocusing. He flipped the match around, sending Breeze into defense-mode. A zig-zag finished the match.

All according to plan.

***

Two weeks ago, Zack Ryder had failed to place in the Universal elimination chamber. This week he was fighting his former partner, Mojo Rawley, for a place in the Intercontinental elimination chamber. For all of Mojo’s effort, Ryder made good use of his second chance. He won this match. Wrist in the referee’s hand, he missed the way Mojo stared daggers into his back from his huddle in a corner.

***

A pair of Universal placements happened next. Chad Gable and Bobby Roode, while tag partners, both wanted to try to win a spot. Seth sat on commentary. He was talkative, but he dodged any mention of the earlier argument with you. Gable faced Jinder Mahal, accompanied by the Singh brothers. Although he had Roode in his corner, cheering him on, Jinder won the match and the spot. Seth wasn’t bothered. He’d fought and beaten Jinder before. No matter what was going to happen in a few Sundays, Seth said he could handle him.

Gable rolled out of the ring and gave his teammate an ego boosting pat on the back as No Way Jose entered. The second match was more friendly than the first. And as such, when Roode turned on the heat, Jose wasn’t ready. Roode gave his defeated opponent a handshake, then accepted the bear hug from Gable as Jojo announced his spot in the elimination chamber. Seth welcomed this possible opponent too. He hadn’t faced Roode in a while.

“This could be interesting,” he said.

***

Baron stormed into your office, ignoring your groan as your moment of isolation was broken. “I know what you promised Elias,” he said, low and threatening. “Has he picked his WrestleMania match yet, or do you have to tell him which one he can pick?”

It took a moment to breathe down your bristling. “Mr. Corbin, Elias had the same chance as anyone. Including yourself.”

“No, he didn’t. You gave him a better spot because he beat me before the Rumble.”

“And why are you just now getting angry about that match? It was two weeks ago.” You licked your lips, stalling. “I have a feeling that’s not why you’re here.” You crossed your arms and waited for his answer.

He snickered. “I want a spot in the Intercontinental elimination match. And if you don’t give me at least a match to ‘earn my way in’, well, Stephanie and Hunter are here. I’m sure they’d love to hear how you’ve been abusing power around here.”

Honestly, that didn’t really scare you. Part of you knew they’d probably chew him out more than you’d be in trouble. Still. You sighed and rolled your shoulders back. “Mr. Corbin, tonight I was approached by a local wrestler looking for an opportunity. He just got one. Congratulations, you’ve got a chance.” Baron smirked and started to leave. “Oh, and by the way, if he beats you tonight, he takes your place on the roster and in the Intercontinental elimination chamber… and you’re out of a job.”

He spun around to face you. “You can’t do that.”

You smiled sweetly at him, a face you had picked up from Alexa. “Yes, I can. The McMahons trust me as general manager more than they ever did with you, and as such, I have been given special liberties. Unless you would like to be fired now for attempted blackmail?” Baron balanced on the balls of his feet, seconds away from attacking. Rolling his eyes, he stepped back. “Fantastic. Head to the ring. I’ll send for your opponent.”

With a growl, he left your office. As soon as he was gone, you let out a shuddering breath. You sent a text to Gorrilla, letting them know who needed to be where. When you looked up, Dean was standing there. “Dean! Please don’t scare me like that.”

“How is it Baron gets a match tonight, but I don’t? Or Seth?”

“Dean-“

“What are you doing, Y/N? This isn’t like you.” Before you could answer, he spun on his heel and left. You struggled to regain some composure, despite the pain in your stomach.

***

The match was about to start when Dean’s music hit. He waved at the ring, sniggering as the local wrestler waved back, then walked over to join the commentary table. “Hey, Renee. Cole. Corey.” Like Seth, he avoided any discussion about your earlier conversations. But he was more than happy to make snarky comments about Baron’s style and lack of control. “It’s like he’s lost his marbles out there.”

To his defense, everyone watching the match agreed with him. Baron was unfocused. The local wrestler was gleefully using this to his advantage. It was a close match. The pin falls reached critical mass with Baron struggling to kick out before anything earlier than two-and-a-half. Thinking he was joining the roster, the wrestler tossed Baron out of the ring and began to celebrate.

“That’s not going to be good,” Dean noted.

Baron swung back in and caught him in a Deep Six. He made sure the other man wouldn’t be able to kick out by picking him up and dropping him in an End of Days. Growling in a mixture of irritation and relief, he got to his feet and let his hand be raised.

Grinning, he waved at Dean. He was going to Elimination Chamber. And so far, Dean was not.

***

The last three matches of the night were for three spots in the elimination chamber for the Raw women’s championship. Well, to become the number one contender for the title, since Ember wasn’t going to be in the match. Bayley entered the ring, pumped and ready. She groaned as Nia Jax’s music played next. The Irresistible Force entered the arena with Tamina at her side. Bayley gave a small sigh of relief as Nia sent her backstage. Their match was going to be between just them.

Or, it should have been.

Bayley was winning the upper hand. She had been able to keep Nia on her knees or at least unstable on her feet. Then Liv Morgan swung into the ring when the referee was checking on Nia and attacked the hugger. By the time he turned around, Liv was again out of sight and Nia was more than happy to take the win. She left the arena triumphantly, laughing as Liv rolled back in a went in to attack Bayley again.

Liv was forced to retreat as Sasha rushed out. Apparently, the only woman who was allowed to beat up Bayley was her, and heaven help any woman who tried otherwise. Sasha made sure Bayley made it safely out of the arena and waited for her opponent.

Several minutes later, Alicia Fox won a similar victory against Sasha. She had to fight harder before Sarah Logan got involved because Sasha was determined to not waste her opportunity. But there was no one to save her like she’d saved Bayley. So just after Alicia’s hand was raised, Sarah and Liv swarmed the ring and launched an attack. They didn’t leave until Sasha was unable to fight back. Then they left cackling, promising that they would give her another dose of damage in their next tag match.

***

Natalya entered the arena. She was all smiles, but it was strained. It quickly turned into a frown as Alexa’s music struck. Miss Bliss was followed by a techie crew who quickly set up for a Moment of Bliss.

“I hope you don’t mind Natty, but I’ve got some questions. For you too, Rhonda!” she called over her shoulder. “And hey, you should be thanking me for postponing your match a bit.” As Rhonda walked out and took a seat she added, “I can’t imagine either of you are eager to fight one another.” When neither woman answered, she continued. “This is a talk-show, ladies. It means you have to talk. What happens if one of you wins the Raw women’s championship after the Elimination Chamber? What happens to the-” she gestured between them, “the friendship?”

“Nothing.” Rhonda squirmed in her seat. “I’ve been here for almost a year. Natalya is my closest friend here.” She faced Natalya. “Why can’t we try one of those things where we help one of us get the title, then we’re the first challenge? Between the two of us, we could either rack of title reigns or help one another ensure long, successful ones.”

Not it was Natalya’s turn to squirm in her seat. “Rhonda, I’ve been in this business my whole life. I’ve seen-“ She sighed. “You know those don’t actually work, right? Someone always wants to be the best. They can’t be that if they’re always in their friend’s shadow.”

Alexa’s eyes glowed in triumph, even as she kept her mouth shut. Well, mostly. “That’s very interesting stances from both of you. I think it’s time we saw that match then. May the best woman win.”

As Alexa’s music played for her exit, the competitors walked down the ring together. There was hesitation from both of them at the start. Rhonda continued to hesitate. What Natalya had said was nothing she’d expected. Natalya sprung forward, beginning her attack. They could work this out later. Right now, she had to make her own opportunity. “Take what you can get,” she muttered. Rhonda heard and faltered in her steps. She caught a kick to the face that put her in the perfect position for a Sharpshooter. Natalya released her as soon as the referee told her Rhonda had tapped.

After all the mixtures of emotions, the women’s elimination chamber was set. Ruby Riott, Nikki Cross, Lacey Evans, Nia Jax, Alicia Fox, and now Natalya would have their chance for gold.

***

Hunter shook your head after he helped Stephanie back into the limo. “Well done, Y/N. I have no doubts now that this is going to work out perfectly.”

You flexed your hand like it burned as the limo pulled away.

Part 40: Sorta Forgiven

Series Masterlist

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humanauction · 7 years

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chapter draft - E (modern sports)

E (chapter discussing Modern Sports - in particular football and racing)

Get home, blah blah - short intro (150-300 words max)

Can’t wait to see the missus, things have been really good lately. Absence makes the heart grow fonder I guess. She always looks so beautiful when I see her after a break of whatever kind. But as I get home at half-past two in the afternoon I get home to an empty house. It’s so quiet where we live. It’s still the city but quite far out north – Green Lanes/Turnpike Lane area. It has everything you need so apart from occasionally having to go to the office for a pickup I come and go as i please. It’s so quiet not being onsite or living on top of between four and eight other lads. I sit down. My knee twinges really badly and I exhale in pain. Fuck, I forgot I got smacked with a table just before we left the last job. My leg. My fucking leg. I put both legs up on the couch and turn on the TV. It’s on one of her channels, the ones with the reality shows, talent contests and soap operas. and turn instead to my favourite channel – the best channel – SkySports News. I press the red button so I can watch the football stuff. I love football. Always loved football. Only ever loved football. Only ever wanted to be a football player. But now, with my knee, there’s no chance. The missus, she says i’m lucky because i’m not stupid like most of the lads still playing and I should go into management or Sports Science. I hate sports science, sports science is the reason all our games are shit and all our players are machines.

On the news there is a horse trainer talking about his runners in the upcoming derby and the changes in, he calls it, “horse rehabilitation therapy”. post-training session and post-race hydrotherapy in particular. Behind him is a doughnut shaped moat with a footbridge and access channel leading to it. How long the channel is, is unclear as it leads off screen. The moat is about 1.5 metres wide; the whole loop maybe 5 metres in diameter. As the interview unfolds, the footbridge is raised and a girl with a horse swimming up the access channel comes into shot. I stop listening to what the man is saying and just stare at the horse, swimming in circles, being worked quite hard by the trainer/therapist leading it around. The horse doesn’t look like a very good swimmer. The horse does several laps being pulled along by its face before the bridge comes up once more and it swims out of shot. I drift back into the interview and the trainer is saying how important this is for the horses as it means they can be raced more often – and more races means more money. That isn’t to say these horses aren’t well looked after. No way, these horses – so long as they keep winning they keep breathing – and in some pretty nice accommodation. I don’t like horse racing as a so-called sport. Racing as a whole is kind of unique, and horse racing even more so due to the vehicle being a living, breathing, thing. the jockey, although important is just sorta along for the ride. He beats the horse when it needs it and stops it running when it wants to bolt, but basically the jockey is little more than a glory hunting parasite holding onto a magnificent beast for grim death as it competes with a group of similarly fantastic animals to see who can run fastest for the longest. They don’t really care who crosses what line first. All they care about is knowing between themselves who is the biggest strongest baddest horse. It’s a bit like boxing versus fighting: Boxers, they need wins in a row; they need career wins and losses; they need form… But a fighter? all a fighter needs is to know they are the baddest thing on the planet and they need to know anyone standing in their way needs to go because, well, that’s all really. A fighter doesn’t need a referee or judges or fans. All a fighter needs is the blood, the adrenaline, the sweat. All he chases is the win, by whatever means necessary, to beat the challengers to his invisible crown. now animals…

…visions of that day flood my memory. the early morning. wet. butterflies in my stomach ahead of the game. the BIG game. the game to get me out of here. away from him. away from them. away from what they make me do. the game where they would be looking for the next big thing. watching. writing. the straightness of the trees we passed. rough coach seats. the music it was pop hits on a radio station called Heart. motorway service stations. the smell of petrol. boots on tiles. cold locker doors. stale sweat. kit bags. ball bags. food bags. vaseline and deep heat. legs jumping whenever i tried to sit down. our manager. the psych-up. pacing back and forth. heel-to-toe. heel-to-toe. lining up. hands on shoulder. one final roar before we go. the tunnel. nerves. the pitch. the daylight. cold air. take your positions, gentlemen as the captains do their thing…

Animals. they don’t think like we do. Animals. they don’t care about pride or cowardice. All an animal cares about is whether or not that animal will live to breathe another day suffering as little injury as possible because in the wild injury is the thing that will most probably kill you.

Skysports jumps from story to story and i’m so tired I keep drifting in and out of my own mind and back into the scheduling list when something catches my eye - a story on Sports Science and developments in football! i can’t resist and i skip to the story. the story has a physiotherapist from one of the big London clubs, and a sports scientist currently working with them at the junior level. the level i got to before… i still find it hard to form it in my mind. i notice i actually physically take in a sharp breath after each word, trying to see them as a phrase rather than single unconnected words that just happen to be falling out of my mouth. the strain, i can actually feel it. just 3 words. six syllables:

before. the. accident.

before the accident. before the accident. before the accident.

i take this opportunity to try and force myself to realise where i am now. in this job, it’s easy to forget why you are here and where you actually want to be. always so tired all you can think of is sleep. or there is no work and all you can think of is money, because now you have more pressing problems like how to pay the rent…

…the whistle. and we are off. the ball floats around ahead of me down field. pulling socks up, blowing into my hands. cold. the ball comes in high. i jump with my opposite number and i win the header. falling and landing on my knee. mud. blood. wipe it off and carry on. small crowd shouts and cheers. manager is screaming. run. jump. tackle. down the wing. throw in and i pick up the ball. headers forward and backwards. no one winning yet. finding rhythm. nerves swell up, i can see them making notes, the ones that matter. blades of grass. patches of mud where the content is always most fierce…

i have missed the whole intro to the piece but i got the basics and they are talking about bone density. it’s almost like they are talking about me as i watch. the story unfolds, and on of the main, newest, most interesting developments has to do with bones (and in particular bone density). the story goes on: there are many, many, junior players now on significant salaries with a conversion rate to professional footballer at the same team or level as their junior team is so horrendously low that the percentage isn't even worth remembering. if you need a ball park figure think below 0.5%. quite a way below in fact. the conversion rate from big club (top 5 English Premiership) junior player to much smaller (scottish second division or below kinda thing) is higher, but who cares about them? the chances in the modern English game of getting back into the big leagues from there are real slim, if possible at all. but back to the story on the television - bone density. the “scientist” starts talking very excitedly about how they can now take two equal players and separate them if by nothing else, by the density of their bones. this allows them, the scientist continues, to deduce the likelihood of a player suffering broken bones or a related injury in, for example, a hard tackle. a hard tackle for example. that could put a player out for a long time. there was a single theme running throughout the piece, a theme that no one really wanted to mention, but was alluded to constantly. the theme?

money.

you see, all these kids on five- or six-figure contracts, they cost a lot of money. they can’t be kept for a single minute longer than they are needed. sure they might be able to sell or trade a player but not really. and even the ones who make it - the investment in each of these players is huge and the club needs to re-coup it’s investment. the wages they command alone - to have a player out for however long, plus all the medical costs, insurance premiums, rehabilitation therapy, the fact the player could potentially never be the same again… all these things and more are presented as justifiable reasoning to destroy a child’s dream just because his bones aren't dense enough and ignore the reality that he might be special in some other sense. all this lead me to realise that as i sat watching these people talk about my favourite game, all they were producing from here on in would be money making machines, built rather than born, for the single purpose of making as much money as possible by abusing something normal people loved for no other reason than a love of the game. to talk about the corporate takeover of football in this country are almost redundant at this point. but to include science as a factor at this level means we are unlikely to ever see the prodigious but flawed talent that came before. talent that is capable of turning the tide of a match with a single touch. talent as capable of a 1 star performance as a 10. talent that although unpredictable is exciting and gives people a reason to watch if only to see what happens next. whether that is a hat-trick in the last 6 minutes or a red card inside the first 30 seconds. whether they get so drunk they can’t play or get so drunk their play is sublime. that’s why we watch other people do what we wish we were capable of. not because they did it a million times until it was perfect with a pass conversion rate of consistently over 80%, but because they flicked it over the back of their head and lobbed the goalkeeper. because the made seven professional footballers look like toddlers when they dribbled the ball all the way from the halfway line to putting the ball in the top left corner. but maybe thats the problem. when it comes down to potentially a single loss being the difference between winning the premier league and coming second is many millions of pounds. ultimately a price was put on natural ability and that price is now too high and those players have gone from rare to endangered to extinct. and all within my 30-year existence.

…back and forth. back and forth. every player too nervous to commit. neither team wants to make the first mistake by taking a chance. we string four passes together. they get five. no one gets any closer to the goal. 10 minutes pass with nothing. 20 minutes. 30. if something doesn't happen soon. the men, they are still writing. scribbling. maybe they aren't even writing at all. have to stand out. have to push. forward. i play at the back, but i start to travel up the pitch. push the back line up. take their space. take their air. stop them breathing. more aggressive. win every ball. win every tackle. commit. 110%. all your life. all your life has been for this one single moment. in this one single game…

the piece ends talking about how much money this will save and how that money can be put to such better use but all i can think about is how similar the horses and the players have become. the animal racing industry as a whole never had anything to do with sport. a sport is something that would continue to exist without people betting large sums of money on it and all the finances generated around that. no one would race horses for fun. if you banned betting tomorrow almost all of those beautiful horses people love so much would be shot. why breed pedigrees if they aren't going to run? where’s the profit in that? normal horse enthusiasts - they are rarely willing to take on a pedigree race horse, amazing beasts though they are. ask someone who rides. they aren't like normal horses.

…how at my first team. how coach patted me for scoring. how he did it like that. how i was doing a good job. how i was special. how we should keep it all between us. what happens here. how no one would believe me anyway. how i get to ride home in a warm car with him. don't have to walk in the cold. how that must be worth something, right? how i can do it now for him. how likes that. how sitting on him felt kind of safe. how playing well got me to a new team with a different coach after the important man at the games with the pad spoke to my father. how he didn't care what i did so long as it didn't affect him. how the man liked that. how he told me he could get me to better clubs if i helped him. how i did help him. how he told me to. how i scored and scored and passed and passed and i went to the next club like he promised and it was a good one. how he sold me to one of the best ones. how it was different here, now. how i wouldn't have to do anything like that anymore. except…

they used to race dogs in the UK in a big way. Greyhounds. now that they shut most of the tracks greyhound breeding has dramatically fallen. people don't want greyhounds anymore. not really. not like they used to. like back when these “dog lovers” would dispose of dogs by selling them to research laboratories, abandoning them, or most commonly killing them. The Environment, Food and Rural Affairs Committee give numbers of between 1,000 and 3,700 dogs as “unaccounted for” every year but no figures exist for the killing of dogs no longer able to run. most dogs would run from about 18 months to the age of three, four or maybe five. rarely some run until they are six. and its a global event. in the USA, with so few dogs being retired and so many new dogs coming in to race each year, the “ideal” scenario for a dog trainer is to sell them for research to vivisection laboratories, chemical research labs, universities. why? up to 40 cents per pound of weight. researchers love Greyhounds. they are so easy to work with. they are docile, calm, submissive creatures that don't even bark. they also have a universal blood type, no fur or fat, a large strong heart, and a unique skeletal system. lastly, they have a very high level of pain tolerance. which is especially useful.

…toot-toot-toot of the whistle and it’s halftime. heads down. tired. thirsty. sore. manager shouting. captain shaking. coach’s hand on his shoulders. occasionally he whispers in his ear thinking no one can see. i do. i know what happens. we all know what happens. when he’s alone. we go back out and it’s their turn. we chase. they chase. i win, win, win, every challenge harder. every challenge until he comes in with both feet, legs completely straight. no intention of getting the ball…

none of this sounds like any part of a sport. and increasingly the similarities between football and racing seem to outweigh the differences. as pundits and former players discuss various aspects of the last round of games i find myself thinking about several things at once. i put this down to exhaustion related confusion and try to push the conflicting thoughts down but i end up drifting into one memory that keeps persisting the harder i push it back and i lose major interest. instead, flicking through everything i have missed away working, i see a pattern - the main aspect of modern day sports now seems to revolve around drugs, cheating and money. and it isn't just the horses and the dogs.

boxing. athletics. MMA. tennis. rugby union. pole-vaulting, cycling. running. swimming. weightlifting. Australian rules football. cricket. American football. all car racing. (provide drug/cheating examples for each)

there are always going to be bad elements willing to do anything to win, but this isn't what is happening. this is everywhere and everything. i wonder if anyone ever won anything without some sort of technically-not-illegal-at-the-time chemical edge. all your heroes - they were high on drugs as you cheered them on. they were high and/or the opposition had been sexually abused, drugged or bribed. that’s it. that is modern sports.

…i can taste the mud when i bite down. wincing. pain. blinding. hot. cold. flashing white shards in my eyes. can’t hear. so far away suddenly. everything green. he gets up. brushes off. laughing. turns to the referee with arms open claiming total innocence. all i can do is hold my leg. screaming now. my foot. it’s facing the wrong way. i can feel the wind inside my bones. it hurts so badly it is almost numb. the referee runs over. whistle toot-toot-tooting away. stretcher comes. men with pads, they scribble. but it’s all over…

when i tune back in to what’s happening on the screen i notice the headline streaming across the bottom that will never go away now. another coach has been found guilty of child abuse. there are so many cases now that the legal system is clogged and some of these guys may never see trial. the abuse that runs through the whole game, mirroring the same abuse of children in the entertainment industry. as i look at my life long love. my sport i hold above all others. and all i see are the burning ruins of clubs and socially destitute stadiums. locker rooms filled with predators. enablers. drugs. match fixing. cheating. really, son, you have to see the bigger picture:

just look at how much money!

i stare at the screen in a sort of disbelief as much at myself as the illusion of honour and camaraderie i have helped to maintain. i am exhausted. i feel like so many people. so many lives. compressed into a single time line, sharing a single body. i love football? it is - it was - my life. i love sports? Sky Sports is the best channel ever. but the more i watch the more questions i have and they all lead back to the same place: drugs & money. how long have i been away? where have i been? where do we go when we are sleeping? some nights my dreams they are too real. with this job, i don't even sleep at night, necessarily. as often as not, unless i am here, at home - which is rare - i sleep whenever the opportunity arises.

when i wake up, she is there and i smile. it never seems as bad with her here. her, who has been here through it all and her biggest complaint is that she never sees me. i keep money coming in, in the way that the crew provides, but that isn't it. i still don't know what happened in the games… whenever it was now. she says:

“hey”

“hi”

“you hungry?”

“yeah”

i turn off Sky Sports.

#writing #sports #football #horses #racing #money

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