Soccer Coach 2004

Chapter Nineteen: A Decision in Doncaster

The train had just passed Sheffield on its long journey north. The mid-morning sun glaring through the window reflected off Jamie's computer screen, covering vital statistics and making Jamie's job of scouting the Barcelona starting eleven all the more difficult. His mind kept racing back to the comments he had heard at the party last weekend; about the bikini party and how some guy was going to make his move on Carla. He rang her again; the third time this morning. The phone rang and rang and eventually went to voicemail. Jamie adjusted his screen in an attempt to reduce the glare. Was there something in this Barcelona side that he was missing? Already Ronaldinho was missing through suspension, that would make John's task slightly easier, Jamie thought. But, on paper, this Barcelona side was still a lot stronger than the battle-damaged threads of an Inter Milan side that John actually had available.

Jamie was sure that John's opponent would have a trick up his sleeve. He turned to look through the reserve squad players, the ones that might be replacing Ronaldinho. He started with the goalkeepers, and worked his way through the team, looking for something that could turn a game on its head, looking for someone that John might not be prepared for. He clicked on one of the young midfielders, an Argentinian called Lionel Messi, who had spent the previous season in the 'C' team. His stats were raw, but his dribbling was twenty out of twenty and his first touch was strong too. Jamie thought about John's tactics, about his team's main weakness: strong dribblers. If Les Sinclair, John's opponent in the semi-final, was as ruthless in his exploitation of his opponent's weaknesses as the message boards claimed, then John could be in for a problematic time.

Jamie scoured the Inter Milan team for a solution to the problem posed by Lionel Messi. With four at the back, there was a lot of space in front of the back four. Cambiasso's replacement had none of his ability to anticipate and intercept passes. Jamie thought about the problem and decided that the best course of action was to play Materazzi further forward, halfway between his centre-back position and the holding midfielder, allowing him to step forward and intercept any passes that went in Messi's direction. Jamie wanted to call John to let him know about Messi, but he remembered the email he had received where John had explained how he had dropped his phone in the toilet earlier in the week. Jamie couldn't imagine Sir Alex Ferguson making such an embarrassing error. No matter, he checked his emails more often than people waiting for their dates to arrive check their watches. Jamie started typing up his scouting report to send to John. He barely noticed the tunnels and mountains and factories of South Yorkshire, the screaming children in the seats in front of him, or the vibrations in his pocket from his mobile.

By the time he noticed the vibrations, he had already missed the call. It was from Carla's phone. Jamie finished typing up the rest of his scout reports, hit send, and tried calling Carla back.

"Alright mate, who's this?"

"It's me, Carla's boyfriend," said Jamie, stunned that a male voice had answered the phone yet again.

"Hey Jamie, how are you, hun?" said Carla.

"Who was that? And what's he doing answering your phone?"

"Oh, just a friend, don't worry, hope you're not missing me too much down in Birmingham."

"I'm not in Birmingham," Jamie told her, "I'm on my way up to see you, just went past Sheffield."

"Oh," Jamie could hear the shock and discomfort in Carla's voice, "I thought we arranged to meet up next weekend instead, only this weekend I kinda had plans."

"What sort of plans?" said Jamie.

"Oh, nothing, just this party and all, I'm not sure if it is your thing. Um, listen hun, I've gotta go. Call you back, yeah?"

Carla hung up the phone.

The train was now just outside Doncaster where Jamie needed to change trains, the mountains had given way to endless fields and the sun's glare was stronger than ever. Jamie looked at his computer. There was no connection. The email had not been sent.

Jamie tried to reconnect to the wifi, but Virgin Trains had decided otherwise. Every attempt led to an error message. Then another message appeared on the screen.

'Low Battery – computer shutting down automatically'

-----

Jamie stood on the platform at Doncaster station, the shade of the roof and cold concrete slabs giving the platform its own microclimate. Jamie got his coat out of his back and put it on again, thinking of Carla and how much alcohol she would need to drink to stave off the cold at the bikini party. He tried calling her again but there was no answer. She clearly didn't want to see him, since last weekend it seemed as though she didn't want him in her life at all. Ever since she had moved to Edinburgh, Jamie had been an afterthought for her, part of her old life that she seemed keen to forget. He looked at the departure board. The next train to Newcastle was delayed by ten minutes. On platform two, a train bound for London was about to arrive. Jamie remembered the unsent email. He did some quick calculations in his head. If he caught the London train, he could get to the tournament in time to tell John the plan, he could save the day and make sure that John reached the final. It would be tight, but as long as the southbound train had no delays, it might just work. Carla still hadn't responded to his call, he was not wanted in Edinburgh, but he was needed in London. It was a surprisingly easy decision to make. Jamie walked up to the counter, "Off-peak single to London please."