Roy of the Rovers Total Football

Part 12

***

The compact little ground had changed little since the days when Roy Race was
manager of Walford Rovers. Terracing in the lower tiers behind each goal had
been replaced with tight rows of plastic blue seats, but when it was full to
capacity Walford Stadium could have been transported straight from 1983.
Compared to the shiny almost identical stadia that populated the Premier
League, it was not a fitting home for the league leaders. Or maybe it was,
thought Roy as he scanned the field, he would have brought the Championship
to West London in the early 80s if he had not chosen to return to Melchester, he
was sure of that, as was his former chairman and the fans. But, his imagination
was getting carried away, a mixture of current affairs and nostalgic memories
clouding reality. Right now his beloved Melchester Rovers had suffered their
second defeat in succession and this loss was down to one of his own.
Declan McKaffree had made a good decision to join Walford, just one defeat so
far this season, saw the F.A. Cup holders sitting comfortably five points clear at
the top of the Premier League. McKaffree had just scored twice to help defeat his
former club, who dropped to fifth. As he left the field he lapped up the applause,
nodding to all four sides of the ground, even the Melchester fans sang his name,
perhaps for the last time; Oh Declan McKaffree! Oh Declan McKaffree! A
different tune to his original song, but it what a special moment, Melchester fans
still have class, he thought.
The youngest Roy Race, Decs nephew, was in the main stand with his father-inlaw, Roy held him up above his head so the footballer on the pitch below could
see him. A replica Walford shirt stretched over his winter jacket, bobble hat, scarf
and gloves, all in Walford blue and white. The boy was clapping wildly and
shouting his appreciation. Declan waved back before he was pulled aside by an
Orbital Sports reporter holding a microphone and clipboard.
Some performance from you, Dec, no divided loyalties, hey! Declan was an old
hand at post-match interviews, so paused for thought before giving his answer,
I gave over ten years to Melchester Rovers, if Im honest I expected to still be
there, retire there. But Im not, Im here in London and Im loving it!
Youve nothing to say to Johan Seegrun, the man who pushed you out of Mel
Park? You just destroyed his side! Declan grinned, he was not going to fall into
the reporters trap, No way, Melchester are his side, they play his way. Hes one
of the greatest managers of all time! But, as I said, Im here at Walford and
Kenny Davenport, in my opinion is well on his way to being a great too!
Walford captain Andy Church joined in on the interview, Churchy, what a
performance from you guys and Dec here. Hes our man of the match, can you
do the honours?
Church was another experienced professional, he snatched the bottle eagerly
and passed it on to his Irish team-mate, Well done, mate! he said, shaking
hands firmly and ruffling Decs long curly hair.
Andy, again please! You won your first major honour last season, can Walford do
the impossible, can you win the Premier League?
The West London club would be top at Christmas, their sudden progression up
the league had shocked English football. Champions Kelburn were in pursuit, but

Danefield and Melboro were well off the pace, both currently in the bottom half
of the table. We dont do predictions at Walford, mate, one game at a time and
all that, you know! Church replied, Were giving it a good go though and were
not afraid of anyone in this league! Kelburn on Boxing Day, bring it on Im
loving it! The last phrase added in an awful Irish accent to mock the line
McKaffree had said moments earlier.
The former England international centre-back ended the interview with a Woo!
and dragged McKaffree with him into the home dressing room. Away from the
cameras, the Walford manager, Kenny Davenport, was not as pragmatic, You
boys, you can make history, we can do this. Every week were written off, every
week some wee nobody on Orbital Sports says were just a flash in the pan! But
we keep proving them wrong, believe me boys, we are the best team in this
League!
The entire squad let out a cheer, a chant began as if in the stands with their fans,
Walford! Walford! Walford! Walford! McKaffree sat slowly and put his head in
his hands, he thought deeply; this is amazing, Davenport has given us such
belief. Ive never been in a team like this, no superstars, local lads, fans of the
club, all playing together, all winning together! It would be real Roy of the Rovers
stuff if they could pull it off! Johan Seegrun could never create such spirit in the
Melchester dressing room, Can you hear this Seegrun? he said quietly to
himself as Davenport and his players banged the walls and stamped their feet.
Walford were not just a gifted side, the Scottish manager had reformed the Crazy
Gang!
***
Drew Powell, Melchester Rovers Welsh midfielder, loved games in London,
especially those played on a Sunday. A Sunday match meant players were free to
make their own way home from the hotel and with Monday a day off, the
younger members of the squad hit the clubs.
Jake Cheetham, the captain, was young, but rarely joined Powell, Richie Lyons
and company; in fact he had not been out on the town with his pals since the
famous fight with the Melboro players, David Baker and Johnny White, during the
2013/14 season. Jake would not make an exception tonight, his relationship with
Powell was still strained. They had been best friends, shared an apartment, but
now they spent very little time together. Richie Lyons had replaced Cheetham, as
he and Drew become closer, they shared a passion for sports cars, flashing the
cash and cheap women. Tonight they had booked a VIP area in a central London
club, Richies mobile phone rang loudly, a taxi was waiting in front of the hotel.
Come on, son! Lyons demanded as he leant of the hotels front desk, checking
out the young lady on reception. Powell appeared from the emergency stairs,
Ready? he said, nodding at the same blonde behind the counter. Lyons was in
no hurry, Ive told the cabbie to leave the meter running, Curtis isnt here yet!
Curtis Blunt was a former Melchester Rovers player, Vernon Eliot had sold him to
London side Eastgate at the start of last season. The forward was currently
injured, he had played just twice this season. Eastgate fans, who are not known
for their forgiving nature, believed him to lack heart. He was injured so often and
seemed to spend a disproportionate amount of match time on the floor or

receiving treatment. To the hard-nosed Eastenders, this was unacceptable; he

had so much talent, but just did not seem to care for the club. Eastgate fans
would love him, if he ran around a bit more, chased back and was simply; less of
a pansy. Blunt had earned England caps last season, now he was sitting around
doing nothing - that infuriated Dockers fans, especially when his partying was
shared with the world via social media.
Powell and Lyons moved into the ground floor bar, ordered vodka and tonics, two
each and settled into a booth by the window. Another taxi pulled up outside and
two athletic figures in jeans, designer t-shirts and baseball caps entered the
hotel. What the heck? Richie wailed, Oh my God! Regis, my man, whats up?
Blunt had arrived with a surprise guest, Regis Martin, another former Rover who
had made a controversial switch to Gatesfield a couple of years earlier. Martin
had refused to sign an extended contract with the Rovers and left on a free
transfer (the fee was later decided by tribunal and set at 3.5million). He had
been a troublemaker, getting mixed up with gangs from his childhood. Seemingly
unable to shake off his past, the Melchester hierarchy had to hush up a number
of scandalous stories; drugs, speeding, theft and allegations of sexual assault.
Most at the club were relieved when he left the Midlands and joined the Goons.
Gees, man, hows the South of France? Richie asked. After a number of training
ground incidents and a appalling disciplinary record, Martin was released from
his bumper Gatesfield contract with two years left to run. Undoubtedly talented
the attacking midfielder moved to Antibes, the wealthy French Ligue 1 side. The
best move I ever made. The women, oh my, they are, you know, like Powell
shook his head, Martin was the kind of footballer that gave footballers a bad
name; flash, promiscuous, barely literate. What are the women like? Drew
asked, You never said, Martin looked puzzled, I did, man, theyre like, you
know, like, well you know, innit!
Powell stood up and gulped his drink, he leant over to whisper to Lyons, I cant
do this mate, this boyos a right, well you know The captain of Wales drifted
up to the bar, Martin was not impressed, Whats the matter, you jealous or
what? I got the money and the life! he said straightening his arms as if to show
off his physique and outfit. Blunt intervened, llow it bruv, he aint worth it, hes
just some pussyhole! This time it was Powells turn to be unimpressed, I tell
you what, boyo! A pussyhole me, Curtis, your own fans laugh at you, youre a
joke. And you, Regis Martin, how many times have you played for Dorino? No,
dont answer, I dont think you could do the maths, your little head might
explode!
Martin and Blunt were tutting and cursing, aggressively bouncing from foot to
foot, as Richie Lyons, with arms outstretched, formed a seemingly impassable
barrier between the two and Drew. Lets go boys, lets go, cabs waiting! Lyons
guided his friends outside, turning to mouth something at Powell, a lip-reading
expert would have translated, Whats the matter with you?
In fits of laughter, on stool at the end of the bar, was one of the Melchester
Rovers chairmen. That was gold, Drew! But you did well, son, I wouldve beaten
them both to death and dumped em in the Thames! Trevor Brinsden, could
barely control himself, he was drunk, fallen off his wagon - heavily, That Regis
Martin, hes got to be the thickest bloke on Earth. Come over here, son, tell me

whats wrong. Believe me, Ive been through just about everything a bloke can.
At Melchester Rovers were a family, weve got to look out for one another! The
slurred words were heartfelt, but off-putting, Powell felt sorry for the cancer
survivor, but he did not like the idea of sharing his evening with him.
Its okay, Mr Brinsden, I think Ive sorted out my problem; I just needed to grow
up. Seeing idiots like Blunt and Martin made me realise how good it is to be a
Rovers player. Why would anyone want to give that up? He finished his drink,
Im going upstairs, I wonder if Jake will give me a lift back to Melchester?
Storky Knight
NEXT Shocking news from Melboro!