1.63 - Ryan Reynolds

63.

Once the kids had turned away, I picked up my crutches and checked my pockets for my phone and keys.

"Henri, we're leaving."

"Excuse-moi? Why that?"

"I've been sacked."

"Sacked? When?"

"Just now." If you want to get specific, it must have been the moment Mike said, This isn't working. "Can you get the gate for me?" Ahead on the railing there was a little gate with a fiddly handle. You notice such things when you're on crutches.

Mike looked startled. "Max, wait." I gave him a sort of polite nod, but kept going. "Max! Maaax. Shit."

Henri jogged ahead and cleared my path. A bunch of confused people parted and I made my way towards the car park. Jackie was already moving that way. He had been watching from near the corner flag and his footballing sixth sense must have kicked in. I wondered how much he'd guessed just from me making such wild subs and the subsequent kerfuffles with MD and the parents. Probably 97% of it.

He nodded at me. "You okay?"

"Yes. Can we go please? This is Henri."

Jackie knew. "We've met."

Henri remembered, too. "Your friend was a good defender."

"How good?" I said.

"Very good."

They shook hands like they were trying to wring the testosterone out of each other.

"Cut that shit out," I said, setting off towards the cars again. Macho handshakes do my head in.

"Is this our... mutual friend?" said Henri. Is this the guy I'm supposed to wait for?

"Maybe," I confirmed.

Jackie shook his head. He was used to weird conversations happening around me. He was about to speak when Livia turned up. "Max," she said, breathless, falling in with us. "What is going on?"

"I got fired," I said, with a smile, still swinging myself back towards Manchester.

"Why?"

"Well, that's a good question," I said. "I think the managing director didn't like my attitude. And to be fair, he probably has a point."

Henri stepped in. "That's not what it was. Max put the needs of the kids above his own. He stepped on the wrong toes along the way."

Well, that put me in a very heroic light. I gave the Frenchman a look, but he didn't seem to be playing a game. I mean, obviously he was, but he didn't seem to be. Very impressive skullduggery. I presumed the plan was to make me look good so that Livia would end her interest in Jackie which would make her fair game, leading to an invite down to Henri's chateau or his flat on the Seine or whatever his usual move was.

Livia reacted as Henri had intended. "No! That's awful. That's not fair. I saw the way the kids celebrated the goal. Whatever you were doing, they were loving it."

I put my hand on Henri's shoulder and gave it a little shake. "I couldn't have done it without Henri. He was fantastic. A real sharp mind in there, a great listener, and a dab hand when it comes to kids."

"What Henri is trying to say," said Jackie, somehow picking up the rules of the game and joining in, "is that Max put his future on the line out there, today. When I saw him take those kids off the pitch, I felt something about him I've never felt before."

"What's that?" I said. "Lust?"

"Admiration," he said.

"Aww," said Livia, sort of rubbing his back.

And that put Jackie back in pole position. Which was great! But I couldn't help myself. I just couldn't. She was so beautiful and I knew the exact right thing to say. "Well, Jackie mate. In the words of Kevin James in Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2... If you believe the purpose of life is to only serve yourself then you have no purpose."

Livia stared at me, unblinking, eyes glistening, before moving away and vanishing into a little white Fiat.

Henri punched me in the arm. "Max. Did you just quote Paul Blart Mall Cop 2 to flirt with that goddess?"

"Yes."

He exhaled. "I can't compete with that." He slapped me on the back and ambled over to a dark green Lotus Super 7. He started the engine, gave us a 1920s kind of wave, and zoomed off. His licence plate read H3NR1.

Livia came back and shyly handed me a piece of paper. "See you soon," she said, before adding, in what I chose to believe was a flirty tone, "I hope!"

I slipped the paper into a pocket and followed Jackie to his car.

We got in. Jackie didn't help me, but simply sat with his hands on the wheel, his knuckles white.

After about 15 seconds, I took out Livia’s note and began to read it aloud. "Dear Max, you are... oh, dear. She spelled it u r. The letter U and the letter R." I pretended to skim the text. "It's all like that. What a shame. Dear Max, u r so good with kids. I hope you - the letter U - come to Chester. We would - spelled W-U-D - have beautiful babies. Why - the letter Y - don't 'U' call me and 'U' can put a little baby inside me. No question mark even though it's a question. Then there's a phone number. I don't think she’d give me a fake one. Do you?"

Jackie's death grip weakened. He took a quiet, shuddering breath that I only heard because there was no other sound in the universe. Slowly, he turned to me. "That's her Disney Plus password, isn't it?"

I showed it to him. "Yep."

"Please don't do that to me, Max."

I did the world's tiniest dance. "If you want it better put a ring on it." Repeat times three.

"It's not that easy."

"It is. Drop me off then call her. Or next time..." I flicked my index finger against the paper like a doctor flicks an IV.

He shook his head. "It's not that easy. And by the way: she can spell."

We drove off.

***

We didn't talk much at first, but I did tell him most of what happened with the parents. He seemed very interested in why I did what I did, but I was more interested in why the parents did what they did. He made me describe Sullivan's dad, asked a few follow-up questions, then said, "He does it because he's insecure. It's a constant stream of instruction and correction that's like a sonar. Pinging himself in the world of football. If he is heard, he exists. He's always trying to reassure himself that he has a place in our little ecosystem. And he's desperate for his son to progress. If he doesn't, it's his failure. He couldn't afford the extra coaching. He didn't push his kid enough. His genes are defective. He'll find something and torment himself with it, forever."

"You've seen it all before?"

"Not everything. Just a lot. Looking back, my dad wasn't ideal. I think I made it despite him."

"What about Henk's mum? You think she's just using Chester as a springboard to something better?"

"Based on what you said, probably. That's not necessarily bad for Chester, by the way. Developing a talented youngster who goes to a bigger club can bring in some cash. There's transfer fees for the obvious stars and if a fee can't be agreed, a tribunal to decide a fair fee. But sometimes a big club will just give a small one a few hundred grand to avoid all the mess. Anyway, parents like those, they'll hate what you did today. One of them told me once: it isn't about the team winning, it's about my son progressing to the best of his ability."

"How do you feel about what I did? Really?"

He dipped his head while he considered the question. "It was so obviously in the best interests of those kids, and so obviously against your own interests, that I can't really understand it. So I don't have an opinion on it."

Hearing him say the 'against my interests' bit was something of a dagger to the heart. I'd sort of hoped that maybe I could have my cake and eat it - be the hero to the kids, and still scout for Chester. But I'd made my choice.

"I'd do it again, Jackie. Exactly the same. I loved managing them. The Knights, too. Thanks for this weekend. Really."

***

But the weekend wasn't quite over.

I popped a few pills to deaden the pain, and lay on my lumpy but familiar bed with my phone fully charged and my laptop logged in to Livia's Disney Plus and tuned to The Proposal, the movie Emma had chosen for us to watch and discuss. At exactly 6 I video called Emma. She picked up instantly. She was made up, but not like she was going to the Oscars. And I'm pretty sure she was wearing a soft tracksuit kind of thing. Hot but chill. My kind of woman!

We did some small talk but before she could really get going, I said I had an idea. We could press play on The Proposal and watch it together.

"Didn't you have time to watch it, yet?" she said. Not judgemental. More... supportive. Understanding that I was a busy person. Which I wasn't. Usually.

"I did the first hour and made notes, but I fell asleep."

"Wow. I quite enjoyed it."

"It wasn't fall asleep bad. There was also the meds and the match and the drive."

"Meds? Drive?"

I had a lot to tell her. "Just get ready to press play and I'll tell you everything." Everything except that a curse lived rent-free in my head and that I'd briefly checked OnlyFans for women called Livia. "Three, two, one, play!"

***

I told her some of my recent highs and lows. New clients, new injuries, new opportunities. I tried to explain about the under 14s and the bad parents but she didn't really get it. She didn't get why I'd risk the 200 pounds a week I so desperately needed. She didn't get why it was such a big deal to me that these random kids tried to play football the way I wanted it to be played. She didn't get why Jackie would take me to Chester for medical care and to watch a match, why I'd be allowed to coach their youth teams, and why Henri Lyons would want to be my assistant.

Eventually, I just laughed. "It's weird, isn't it? It's a weird world, or it's weird when I'm around. I know I'm supposed to ease my way in and learn the ropes but I'm finding I'm not good at that. I've apparently only got one setting - bull in a china shop. But listen, let's talk about Ryan Reynolds, okay? No more football for tonight."

"Sure, but why did you want to watch a Ryan Reynolds movie, specifically?"

I shook my head. "Because he bought a football club. But that's the end of the football. Okay? Let me read some of my notes. Number 1. Max Best Pet Peeve. People in movies carrying or drinking out of visibly empty cups. Number 2. Hilarious 2009 reference to 'that little internet site' which turns out to be YouTube. Number 3. The plot of the movie is that she's being deported because she's Canadian, which is a meta joke because, famously, he is. Number 4 is coming up soon, if I remember. There's a room with those huge big glass doors that you can't see. That's scary to me. If we ever buy a house we're not doing that. Ever. No glass doors. Veto."

"Okay. Then I want my own sink."

"Deal."

"And a walk-in closet."

"Maybe. You know what? This Reynolds guy. He's got a super shredded man body and a tiny little baby face. Is he handsome? Really?"

"Er... yes."

"You like baby-faced men. Got it. No black eyes from now on. Now this bit here is good. He's been her dogsbody this whole time and he's finally standing up for himself. That's better. They're more equal now."

"You like being in charge?"

"It's not about that. It's more about not being a doormat. I think we're coming up to a pretty long, boring stretch where virtually nothing happens. So let me read the rest of my notes and get your thoughts."

"Okay, but first, did you like the movie?"

"I like the concept. They have to get to know each other fast so that's juicy chum for the writers. And I suppose it starts well enough. But there's not enough there to sustain the story, I don't think. Some of it's actively annoying. Ryan Reynolds is handsome and capable, and then we find out he's rich, too! His family owns half of Alaska. So where's the romance? From what I read, this is a rip-off of a similar movie where the dude is a struggling musician and his rival is rich. That's a better dynamic, right? It's not romantic if the guy is perfect in every way. He's got to be flawed. Don't you think?"

"What are your flaws?"

"Jesus. Loads. I'm all flaws held together with blu-tack and sellotape."

"So you'd be a good lead in a rom-com?"

"I don't think so. I wouldn't pay to watch me. All right, we can skip some of these notes. My main problem with this movie is there are loads of scenes that they should have cut. This could have been a charming one-hour streaming special."

"They didn't have Netflix, then. But I know what you mean. What scenes would you cut?"

"There's one around where I dozed off. Sandra Bullock is in bed and Ryan is in a sleeping bag on the floor. And they just chat about nothing and then the scene ends. It's hilarious how pointless it is!"

"Oh."

"What?"

"That's my favourite scene."

Wow. That blew my mind. Her comment made me remember why I'd set this 'date' up in the first place - to get to know her. "Hey, Emma."

"What?"

"What part of Newcastle are you from?"

***

I woke up covered in drool. Confused. I picked up my phone to continue chatting to Emma, but she was gone. I stared at the time for ages before it finally clicked that it was 4 AM and I'd slept through the whole end of the movie and beyond. I couldn't remember anything past one of the 'Reynolds shows off his abs' scenes from about 50 minutes in. I checked the phone log and the call had lasted 1 hour 52. Some impulse made me look up the length of the movie and it was 1:48. Emma had stayed watching it with me even though I'd fallen asleep. And she'd stayed through the credits and a little extra.

Water. So thirsty. I hobbled to the bathroom and drank deeply. When I got back to bed, I saw I had an email from just after she'd hung up.

From: Emma

The bit you wanted to cut is my fave scene because until then they've been fighting the whole time. Their relationship is all about status. Who's got the upper hand. It's all transactional, you know? That is the first time they really talk. Just talk together. It's their first real connection.

Had a great time.

Let's do it again. You choose the next one :) x

First real connection? They'd been talking to each other since minute 1 of the film. I think her opinion would have been gibberish to me only a day earlier. But after the drive home with Jackie, it made sense.

***

After I'd told Jackie I'd 'do it all again', he started to talk. To really talk. He told me about the knee injuries that had ended his career. About the despair and desperation of those dark days. That the message he'd been getting from the club and fans had finally sunk in - they'd be there for him come what may. And when he'd belatedly, fully committed to rehab, Livia had been his physio, his nurse, his therapist, his sole point of connection to the rest of the world. There were stretches of days where she was the only person he'd speak to.

And for him, according to his principles, asking her out would be gross. Such a cliche. A poor reward for everything she'd done for him.

I'd sighed at his stupidity and started telling him some of my 'secrets'. Just random things that came into my head. That I'd been the number one guy in the entire call centre and was now trying to finish every day as number three in my team. All because my boss had annoyed me in some minor way I barely remembered. That I was an expert in Love Island even though I'd never watched more than thirty seconds of it. And that the moment during the FC United vs AFC Phoenix game where Jackie had given Ziggy some direct instructions was indelibly imprinted on my mind. "That's when I knew you were a great coach," I said.

***

Chester, then. I'd ended my trip with Attributes 3 in the bag, and 95 XP in the bank. Henri Lyons was a new ally when it came to football and a rival when it came to women. Livia knew I existed. I'd been in the bowels of a stadium on match day and learned what scouts do. I'd had a crash course in disabled and youth football. Mike Dean had dangled 200 pounds a week in my face and then snatched it away, but at least I knew how much to charge for my services. I'd learned a lot.

Most of all, though, I'd made a deeper connection with Emma and Jackie. Deep, meaningful, human connection wasn't something I knew I needed. It wasn't something I would have thought about grinding towards. It wasn't something that could be expressed in a number. It wasn't something that would make me richer, or stronger.

But it was progress.