Soccer Coach 2004

Chapter Seventeen: Toga Party!

"Have you selected your third choice goalkeeper yet?"

The train passed through the green fields of North Yorkshire, the views of sheep and cows mesmerizing the young boy opposite Jamie. "Don't put your face on the window," said the kid's mum as she dragged him back into his seat.

"I have a bit of a trick when it comes to choosing my third choice goalkeeper," Jamie said into the phone which was pressed right against his ear to try and nullify the noise of the other passengers. "Choose somebody who is a penalty-kick and one-on-one specialist; don't worry about their other statistics. They are only ever going to be used if your goalkeeper gets sent off anyway," he told John down the phone. The tournament started in less than twelve hours but Jamie wouldn't be there for it. Carla had called him the night before and invited him to a Friday night toga party. Jamie knew what that meant: lots of skin on display, easily removable costumes, and all of the debauchery of the Roman Republic. He couldn't stand the thought of Carla being there on her own with all those guys from the photos who seemed to live in their boxer shorts despite the icy Arctic winds that blew off the North Sea into Edinburgh. Carla might have claimed that the pictures were innocent but she didn't know guys the way Jamie did.

John's first match was scheduled for 11 a.m. tomorrow, he then had another just after lunch, and the third group game in the afternoon. Using the limited wifi from the train to access the Soccer Coach forums, Jamie could see that John's first opponent was Dave McGregor, last year's champion; certainly not an easy start to the tournament. Jamie found a video of McGregor's semi-final match. McGregor had one noticeable weakness: he favored ball-playing defenders but didn't seem to choose goalkeepers with good composure or passing. "Hey John, I've found it," he said down the line, "McGregor has a weakness..."

At that moment the blue sky and green Yorkshire fields turned to black as the train entered a tunnel, the phone line went dead.

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When the train pulled into Edinburgh station, Jamie's mind had already been obsessed with Carla and her toga-clad suitors for the past few hours; he had struggled to think about anything else ever since passing Darlington. Carla was already at the party, and her directions were less than helpful. After trying to pull up a map on his laptop, Jamie had a rough idea of where to go, he jumped in a taxi and gave the driver directions to the party.

The heavy bass beats alerted Jamie to which house on the street the party was being held at long before he reached it. Already there were people lying drunk in the front garden, their white toga's stained with dirt and red wine, straight from the carton. "Where's Carla?" Jamie asked the first Roman he met after jumping out of the taxi. "Where's your toga? You southern softie," the drunk replied. He entered the house, trying to find somewhere to stash his bag so that it would be safe from what seemed more like a barbarian horde than a Roman feast. In the hallway a girl was pressed against the wall, her arms wrapped around a guy's head, and her toga on the floor, with only a black thong covering her dignity. Jamie tried not to look at her naked form as he pushed past the couple and made his way into the kitchen. "Jamie, you made it!" came a shout from the doorway. It was Carla, both hands in the air, one with a WKD and the other a beer. She hugged him and nearly fell down. A man in his boxer shorts then put his arm around her. "Hey Jamie, this is Tom," Carla slurred, "He's such a great guy, lives next-door to me."

"Alright mate, nice to meet you," said Tom, passing Jamie a beer, "Heard that you're a top guy."

Carla went into the utility room to grab another drink, leaving Jamie to make small talk with Tom.

Even after drinking two beers in quick succession, Jamie was nowhere near drunk enough to enjoy the party. Most of the guys in togas were well-defined and seemed proud to be showing off their flesh. The toga that Carla had made Jamie put on did little more than remind him of his flabby stomach and pasty skin. While waiting for the toilet, he overheard some of the guys at the party.

"I can't believe Carla would invite her ex-boyfriend to this"

"Yeah, I was gonna hit on her tonight too, she looks well fit in that toga. I reckon she'd be willing to take it off too."

"That loser still thinks he's dating Carla, how fucking naïve can you get?"

"Look at him, he knows he's not going to do any better."

"Next weekend, at the foam and bikini party, that's when I'll make my move, bro. Make sure you are free to wingman for me, yeah?"

Jamie turned away, he headed towards the front door, not sure what to make of what he had just heard.

Suddenly Carla appeared, vodka shots in hand. "You've got a lot of catching up to do," she grabbed his mouth and forced two shots down his throat.

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