1.65 - Duels

65.

Tuesday night, home late, few hours sleep, up bright and early for work on Wednesday. Or since this was England in the autumn, up dark and early. Around lunch I got a text from my former assistant.

Henri Lyons: Max! Three days with no communication. I do not feel seduced. I expect you to chase me like you'd chase a lover.

Me: I always wait 6 days before texting. But hey, if I drive to Darlington, will you take me up to Newcastle to meet a girl? I could ask her to bring a friend for you.

Henri: Duel date? It sounds awful. No chance.

2 minutes later.

Henri: Send me a picture of the girls.

Me: No. One is out of your league and the other is tbc.

Henri: Blind date, too? It sounds awful.

Me: And it'll have to be a Sunday afternoon. Just a brunch and a chat and then we all go home. Literally no possibility of action.

Henri: It sounds worse than awful. I'm in. Set it up.

***

I arrived very early at the sports hall, and the team before us were training, not playing, so there was no XP available. I bought a tea and sat in the reception area, just decompressing. It was good for me. I needed it. My life had been go-go-go for ages.

Jackie was the next to arrive.

"Oh, Max, you're here. Great. We need to talk."

That put me on edge. Nothing good ever happened after those words. "Oh. Okay."

He settled into the chair opposite me and put his hands on the table that separated us. "I've been thinking. It's been fun doing all this stuff with you. The training, Ziggy, Chester." He smiled. "Beating Man City. But I need my Wednesdays back. And Ziggy's a pro now. Your client will get his trial at Chester. You too, if you want. I've connected you with some insiders. You know what to do now. You can make it on your own. You will make it on your own. So this will be the last training session. And the last..." He pushed his index fingers towards me and away from me and towards and away. "The last whatever this is."

Lump, meet throat. "Are you breaking up with me?"

He laughed. "Yes. Kicking you out of the nest. You'll either splat on the ground or start flying. Both sound entertaining."

"But why did you do any of it?"

He shook his head. "None of your business, Maxy boy. Now, did you have anything specific you wanted to do in the session?"

Session? Session? Who gave a shit about that? My mentor had just taken me behind the bike shed and kicked me in the balls. "Just stuff," I said. "Skills."

"I thought you might say that," he said, rising to his feet. "So I've prepared accordingly. One thing though. Why did you want shirt number 33 for Ziggy?”

I told him.

“Absolutely insane, as always. Well. I’d better get started.” He slapped the table and hoisted his big bag of cones and discs and hula hoops and left me alone.

So alone.

***

I hadn't realised how much of a safety net Jackie had become. In Chester, for example, I'd been intense, laser-focused on the football and Doing The Right Thing. But I should have been managing Mike Dean, not some brats. I knew, though, that Jackie would introduce me to someone else. In the back of my mind, there was no downside to taking the nuclear option.

And maybe Jackie sensed that, and that's why he'd left all my stuff in a box outside the front door and changed all the locks. Yes, I could become someone in the football industry on my own. But only on my own. Only if I had a fear of falling.

Or maybe he was protecting himself. Maybe I was so toxic and abrasive that it was damaging his reputation.

I sat there deep in thought, wallowing in misery, until Kisi arrived. It's hard to be grumpy when she's in the area, and certainly not when she's chatting at a thousand miles a minute about what she's learned at Man City, how much fun she's having, how excited she is to wake up every day.

I interrupted to explain to her mother that I'd made a mistake in signing the contract with them - it was actually illegal to have a client under the age of 16. (I'd re-read the rules and regulations of being a football agent since Monday.) If Kisi still wanted me as an agent when she turned 16, we could redo it. And in the meantime I'd still check on her and help her out and whatnot.

"Max you dummy," said Kisi, which got her a bit of a telling-off from her mother. Once that was over, Kisi resumed. "Do not worry, Mr Best. I will want to sign it. Actually, this makes sense. Some of the girls gave me funny looks when I talked about how you're my agent. I thought they were confused because you coached the Beth Heads. But it's because I'm not allowed one. Oh! I'll be a big star in two years. We'll have to renegotiate! Since you broke the law, Mr Best, I'm only going to give you 9 percent!"

I smiled. "Deal."

***

So it was the last training session with the Met Heads, and the last with Jackie. I'd invited my whole gang, so that made it even more poignant. Raffi (plus Shona and baby), Ziggy (wrapped in cotton wool, but there was very little risk of injury if we just did passing drills), and Kisi. Plus almost all of the Met Heads were there. Beth looked really tired; she said she'd been working on a big project for her course.

Kisi had helped Jackie lay out some yellow discs. I couldn't work out what the drill would be. It kind of made the hall look like a swimming pool with two wide lanes.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Jackie. "Gather round. Everybody here? Good. This is your last session of the season, I understand, and Friday's your last game. You've already won your big match and if you win this week, you'll finish level on points with City. That's incredible, right? Well done. I don't really know why Max asked me to come and train you this time, with the job done. So I had a think about doing a session that was really for Max's benefit. Are there any objections to that?"

One hand went up. Mine. I was ignored.

Jackie, grinning, continued. "Perfect. I've seen Max manage a few games, now, and heard him talk about football a lot. He's great on the strategy and the plans and the schemes. In a war you'd want him to be the general. But if you're down in the trenches, you want the guy next to you to know all about storing matchsticks so they don't get wet. How to tell if a bomb's dropping on your section or if it's going to pass overhead. When to wash your socks. All that sort of stuff you learned about trenches in school. Er... Kisi. You look blank."

Kisi said, "We didn't do World War 1. We did the Suffragettes."

"I... I have mixed feelings about that," said Jackie. "It shouldn't be one or the other. What I'm trying to say is that I think Max thinks footy is all about systems and passing routines and opening space that can be attacked. But sometimes a war isn't about feints and pincer movements, it's about stabbing a dude in the neck." He pointed to the swimming pool thing. "Duels. Winning your duels. Striker versus defender. Winger versus full-back." I understood the layout, now. He would get someone to dribble the ball from left to right, while a defender tried to stop them. Then presumably the same from right to left. Possibly once you finished you'd slot into the queue at the other lane and it would be a constant whirlwind of dribbles and lost balls. Jackie continued. "Max had two defenders in the last game who were winning all their duels. They were crushing it. He still tweaked them so they'd support each other more. Yeah, good, I get it. It's not wrong. There was a wider point to be made about teamwork. But I would have left them alone. You don't need fancy tactics if all your players are winning all their duels. Ziggy, go on the left. Kisi, go on the right. Ziggy, you know what to do. Go."

In the two weeks since I'd seen him play, Ziggy had only added a point in acceleration and his CA had edged up to 11. His improvement was slowing. Still, he was my only pro client.

"Stay away from his ankles!" I called out. Kisi nodded without taking her eyes off the ball. Now that she was playing, I saw her profile, too. After a few sessions at City, her CA had increased to 3. Still a lot of catching up to do, but I had no doubt she'd do it.

Ziggy ran towards her, dropped his shoulder one way and tried to dribble the other. Kisi kicked the ball away then retracted her foot so she wouldn't touch him. Pretty good defence for an attacking player!

Jackie clapped. "Great, Kisi! That's good. Right. Everyone else. Take a side." The players got in position. Jackie tweaked the numbers so that the duels would never be against the same person twice in a row.

The drill went on for five minutes before Jackie blew his whistle. While everyone watched, he turned to me. "What do you think, Max?"

I shrugged. No attribute was turning green, though it made sense that this drill could improve someone's dribbling, and maybe the defender's tackling. Overall, it did seem like... not a waste of time, exactly. But something I'd want my players to do once a month or something like that. The daily focus should be on formations, passing, technique. Tactics and skills. That was the way. "Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"I'm not a big fan. If I was fit, I'd be shit at this. In a match situation I'd have passing options to the left and right, and the goal would be behind the defender. So I could fake a pass or fake a shot and do a nutmeg or a flick. Or I could actually pass. Do a 1-2 and get past the defender with no risk."

Jackie nodded. "Max, you're unusually aware of what's around you. You're unusually good at feints and dummies. You're unusually likely to make the right decision."

I stole a line. "I do not feel seduced, Jackie. If you want to flirt with me, stop calling me unusual."

"If you're going to manage a team you have to understand that most players can't do what you can. Can't see what you see. And for us plebs, Max, most of the game is about duels. Rolling your sleeves up, fixing bayonets, gritting your teeth. Yeah? You don't like Ian Evans and managers like him. But what they're good at is getting the team worked up before the game so they come out and win their duels. Same at half-time. Bit of praise, bit of hairdryer. Yeah? Come out strong in the second half. Beth, Raffi, go there." The two moved to the spot indicated, and Jackie threw the ball up between them. Raffi jumped and headed it away. "Compete, Beth!" Jackie called, and threw it again. Raffi won again. "Duels. If your tactic is to hit long balls to Beth, Raffi's going to piss on your chips." He looked at the ball. "We're doing less drills like that because of the new head impact guidelines. And we can't do some of the tackling drills on this hard surface. But if I was the manager of the Met Heads, I'd want to train skills 50% and duels 50%. So, Max. Shall we continue with this? Or do you want to switch to skills?"

I bit my thumbnail. I wasn't sure I shared Jackie's gritty vision of football - being honest, I didn't want to believe he was right - but it would have been moronic to assume I knew better than an actual ex-pro. I jabbed my thumb towards the cones. "More duels, please. But guys. You can't just amble up to the defender and then decide what to do. Decide what you're going to do then DO it. Be decisive."

Jackie grinned. "So he's been paying attention after all."

I swung myself closer, suddenly excited. "But I don't like this drill. This scenario barely happens in a game. Have the attacker and defender stand close to each other, facing the same way. Someone pass to the attacker and see if they can get round the defender. Like receiving the ball from a throw-in. Yeah?"

Jackie gave me one of those looks. "Yes, Max. That's coming. We don't start with the hardest drill, do we? We work up to it."

It wasn't a contest between Jackie and I to see who was the better coach; I knew the answer to that one. I took a step back and spread my crutches. "Yes, coach." I looked at the players. The level of motivation seemed pretty high. There didn't seem to be a reason not to increase it, though. "Anyone who beats Raffi in a duel gets to slap me in the face." Beth swapped places so that she'd be in the same line as him. Who said I don't know how to talk to women?

Jackie blew his whistle and the dueling resumed.

When I was no longer the centre of attention, my smile faded into nothingness. I stared from the side of the hall, absentmindedly noting a couple of attributes turning green, and wondered why Jackie had done everything that he had done, and why he had chosen to end with this.

***

Most of the adults planned a quick visit to the pub. You know, to support the local economy. I wondered what Ziggy would order and who'd be the person plying me with drinks to get me to stay. Not Beth - she said she had to rush home and finish her coursework.

Kisi and her mother came to say goodbye.

"Mr Best," said Kisi. "Thanks for this. It was fun. Mr Reaper is excellent. One principle but lots of variety. It truly is a masterclass. And, of course, we get to watch you duel with him, so that's even more fun."

What did she mean by that? "You're welcome."

"Yes. Well. Er..." She scratched her elbow. "I wanted to say one other thing. Mum says it isn't my place but," Kisi looked up at her mother, "But also she agrees with me." She took a deep breath. "Don't give up on James."

"What do you mean?"

"I was telling him about my first training sesh with City."

"Session," said her mother.

"And his eyes were big as saucers. And the next one, he found some excuse to take me, and he watched. He doesn't experience human emotions like envy, as you know, but..."

"Do not tease your brother," said Mrs Yalley.

"I get it," I said. I'd only seen the City campus in photos but I could imagine how overwhelmingly cool it would be in person.

"And it wasn't just the facilities," said Kisi. "Everyone was so friendly. Of course, it's competitive and no-one wants me to take their spot in the team. But they're nice, too and peppered James with questions. What position do you play? Have you had a trial? Are you better than your sister? Coach Sandra offered him a Man City hoodie and he was quite startled and said no thanks but I know he regrets it." She took another breath. "I think if you asked him again he would at least... try. Do you know what I mean?"

Of course I did. She was describing what I knew I should have done. Take him to a stadium, bring him onto the pitch, let him meet a sexy physio if the club had one, then enter the home team's dressing room where a shirt would be hanging up with his name on it. He might have ummed and aaahed, but once he started daydreaming about it, he would have been helpless to resist.

"All right," I said, slowly. "Let me think about what to do. In the meantime, can you get him to take you to City a few more times?"

Her eyes shone. "I'll try!" Then doubt set in. "Like how?"

"Say you don't always understand the tactical instructions and can he come to explain them to you. Say there's one girl you can't beat in the duels and can he help you find her weakness. Say you're comfortable playing 7-a-side because of Mr Best and Mr Reaper but you are a bit lost when it comes to 11-a-side and can he maybe stand by the pitch and give you some extra help."

Kisi smiled. "Max, you're evil!" She looked at her mother. "In a good way."

Mrs Yalley looked worried. "I do not know about this. We can discuss it on the bus. Mr Best, please do not lead my daughter astray."

"Okay," I said. "I promise. Starting... now."

...

Thanks again for all your support! You complete me!