Soccer Coach 2004

Chapter Three: Accepted

'Congratulations. South Birmingham Polytechnic is delighted to offer you a place to study Economics as part of our 2004 intake.'

'A place to study ECONOMICS!' those words still rang around Jamie's head, even two days after opening the letter. It was a misprint surely, some kind of typo or administrative error. Once he had gotten over the initial shock, he had called the university to check, but they were adamant. They had even got out his form, his actual paper form, to double check. It was very clear. On his form in big, bold, capitalized letters was the course code B1-02 and the word ECONOMICS.

Jamie had begged them to change his course, to put him down to study football management analytics like he had actually chosen, but the course was full, there were no more spots, it just couldn't be done. There was absolutely no way that he could study football management analytics in 2004. Fact. Full stop.

"I guess I'm going to just have to take a year out and apply again next year," he told Carla over the phone. "It's not ideal, that's for sure. Another year in this borefest, but it's the only way."

"A whole year though," said Carla, "How will you survive? Solihull is dull enough right now, and you know your parents will want you to work at that accountancy suckfest for the whole time. I heard they work Saturdays too, as if they don't get their fix of boredom from Monday to Friday and just need some more misery to complete their lives."

"I won't work at that place for a year, that's for sure, the six weeks my dad is making me do are bad enough. The only thing getting me through those six weeks was the thought that I'd get to study footy a few weeks after."

Jamie lay on his claret and blue Aston Villa bedsheets, looking up at the plastered ceiling and the posters of Aston Villa's star players on his wall. He still couldn't believe that the letter was wrong. How was it possible for such a mistake to be made? Not just the course code, but the name as well. This was clearly some practical joke, or some very long nightmare or something. Even during the occasional times he had experimented with drugs, he had never imagined something as ridiculous as this, and he'd imagined some pretty weird things, that's for sure.

"Gotta go hun, mum's calling, speak later, yeah?"

Jamie put down the phone and looked at the letter one more time.

ECONOMICS.

"Did I miss much while I was in Germany?" asked Jamie's dad.

Did you miss much? Just my dreams being crushed. Just my life completely ending. Nothing important.

"Yeah, there was some mistake on my UCAS form. It should've said 'football management analytics'..."

"You don't want to be studying that son, economics is a far better choice, prepare you for the future. You could buy a football team with the money you can make from economics."

Jamie locked eyes with his dad, "How do you know it said economics?"

"Um, well, er. truth be told, I have something of a confession to make..."

Jamie's plate smashed against the floor, potatoes and gravy all over the kitchen tiles. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Slam!!! The whole house shook by the force of Jamie's bedroom door.

-----

Jamie sat in the corner of his room, legs tightly against his chest, back firmly against the door. He hadn't sat like this since he was about fifteen, but there was no way he was coming out of his room. If he did he would smack his dad square in the face. He was shaking with anger, with betrayal.

"I only want what's best for you son, you know that," came a muffled voice through the door.

"Go Away!"

"I couldn't let you study football manageme-thingy. How's that going to get you a job? It's not easy, the real world, I'm doing my best to give you as much chance as possible..."

Economics at South Birmingham. That production line to a well-paid job in the city. To a mortgage in the suburbs. To security and prosperity. To two-point-four children and a well-kept garden. To his dad's idea of heaven. To Jamie's idea of hell.

"It's my life! How could you?"

"University doesn't fund itself you know. Me and your mother work hard to provide for you, to give you a good education, a good chance in life. Economics gives you the best chance. It's so versatile, you know that already, you did study it at A-level, got an A and all, and the teachers said that you loved it."

Jamie didn't answer. There were so many things he wanted to call his dad, but silence would work just as well.

-----

"Your dad! Your very own dad!" Carla said in disbelief. "If that were my dad, I'd smack him round the face and never speak to him again. What a fuckin' twat!"

"I was hoping for better advice than 'smack him in the face' hun," Jamie said. He had cooled down a bit since tea, though there was no way he was going to unlock his bedroom door any time soon. "What can I do? I don't think my dad will help me out, even if I do wait another year before studying. There's no way I can afford it on my own." Jamie took another slurp of his emergency beer that he had stashed behind his bed. Lukewarm, but he needed it today. If he could climb out of his window and escape, he would probably be on his fifth double-vodka by now.

"If my uni letters said anything like yours, I'd proper freak the fuck out," said Carla, "At least you got accepted, so you can tell them where to stick it. Two of my uni's rejected me, and I'm still waiting for the other ones."

"Your dad isn't a complete nutjob, I doubt you will open up your letter and read 'Leicester have offered Carla Marsh a place in Economics'."

"Well no, they were one of the ones that rejected me."

"Oh, er... sorry..."

"I guess you could try and say that you would compromise. Study economics on the condition that your dad helped you out when you did footy stats for a post-grad or something. He'd like that, you know he's made of money, would hardly be skin off his back, and he would get what he wanted, something solid to fall back on, you know how those middle-aged suits still think that a degree in economics is a guaranteed job-for-life. He'll go for that I'm sure."

Always postponed, when would he actually be able to live his dreams? It seemed as if they were always being postponed. A master's degree when he was sixty-five and retired? A job in football management for his funeral present? He wanted these things now. He knew what happened to people who put off their dreams. He had spoken to enough of them down the pub while listening to the old men tell their 'could've been someone' stories in return for them pretending that he was eighteen. Hearing their stories of what might've been, of how they planned to travel the world, only for a promotion at Derritt & Sons or an unexpected pregnancy to make them change their mind. "It's never too late," he'd tell them but they'd just laugh at his teenage wisdom. That's what happens when you put things off, when you postpone things. Life gets in the way. Again, and again, and again.

"I guess it's better than nothing, but I want to study football analytics now. I hate putting things off you know."

"Speaking of putting things off, you said you'd meet me in the pub at eight. Come down here and we can have a proper chat about it," Carla said before hanging up.

"Jamie," came the voice through the door, "Your dad wants to apologize."

----

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have interfered like that. But what's done is done, I will try and make it up to you, but please could you at least think about giving economics a try. You know how most of economics is statistics, I'm sure those football analytics companies will want to hire somebody with a solid economics background, please trust me on this."

How could he trust his dad, after such a betrayal?

"Say something Jamie, your dad is only trying to do the best for you."

"Tell you what son, I will make some phone calls and check with some sports analytics companies, I'll even try and get you an internship sorted for next year. I know you might not forgive me, but in a few years you will see why I did what I did."

"Can I go now?" asked Jamie, "Carla's waiting."