‘Mr Sokolnikov would like to know if you can take a call from him in ten minutes,’ said Corinne.
Instinctively I looked at my new watch — a brand new Hublot — and reflected I wasn’t about to say no to the man who’d just spent ten grand on my Christmas present. I, Zarco, everyone on the team, had got a Hublot just like it.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘We’ll call you back.’
I put down the phone. ‘I wonder what he wants.’
‘Who?’
‘Mr Sokolnikov.’
‘Whatever he wants, don’t say no. I’ve no desire to wake up in bed one morning and find I’ve been warming my toes on a bloody horse’s head.’
‘He’s not like that, Sonja.’ I put some plates in the dishwasher. ‘He’s not like that at all.’
‘If you ask me, they’re all like that,’ she replied. She pushed me towards the sitting room. ‘You go and wait for your call. I’ll clear up. Besides, you must be tired after wearing that watch all day.’
A few minutes later, Corinne rang again.
‘Scott?’
‘Yes.’
‘I have Viktor on the line.’
‘Viktor, happy new year and thanks again for the watch. It was very generous of you.’
‘It’s my pleasure, Scott. I’m glad you like it.’
I did like it — but Sonja was right, of course; it was heavy.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘A couple of things. First I wanted to ask you about Didier. You saw him today, right?’
‘He’s still unconscious, I’m afraid.’
‘That’s too bad. I’m planning to go and see him as soon as I’m back. But right now I’m in Miami, on my way to the yacht in the Caribbean.’
At one hundred and ten metres, Sokolnikov’s yacht, The Lady Ruslana, wasn’t the biggest in the world, but it was the same size as an international football pitch — a fact that did not go unreported by the newspapers. I’d been on the boat once and was shocked to discover that just to fill the fuel tanks cost £750,000 — which was a year’s pay for me.
‘He’s a strong lad. If anyone can make a recovery it’s Didier Cassell.’
‘I hope so.’
‘What about Ayrton Taylor?’
‘The head that turned out to be a hand?’
‘That’s right.’
During the same match against Tottenham, Howard Webb, the referee, had awarded a goal to London City when our centre forward, Ayrton Taylor, appeared to head it in from a corner. But almost immediately, while everyone else in our team had been celebrating, Taylor had quietly spoken to Webb and informed him that the ball had actually come off his hand. Whereupon Webb changed his mind and awarded a goal kick to the Tots, which was the cue for our own fans to abuse both Webb and Taylor.
‘Was what he did right, do you think?’ asked Sokolnikov.
‘Who, Taylor? Well, what happened was clearly visible on the television replay. And the man scores ten out of ten for sportsmanship for having owned up to it. That’s what the newspapers said. Perhaps it’s time there was more sportsmanship in the game. Like when Paolo Di Canio caught the ball instead of kicking it for West Ham at Goodison, back in 2000. I know João thinks differently, but there it is. I saw Daniel Sturridge put one in for Liverpool against Sunderland in 2013 that quite clearly came off his arm, and it was obvious from the furtive way he looked at the linesman that he knew it wasn’t a proper goal. But that goal stood and Liverpool won the game. And look what happened to Maradona in the ’86 World Cup match against England.’
‘The hand of God.’
‘Precisely. He’s one of the greatest players ever to kick a football, but it certainly hasn’t helped his reputation in this country.’
‘Good point. But Webb had already given the goal, hadn’t he? And an accidental handball is held to be different from a deliberate one.’
‘Law five clearly states that the referee can change his mind until play has restarted. And it hadn’t. So Webb was quite within his rights to do what he did. Mind you, it takes a pretty strong referee to do that. If it had been anyone but Howard Webb I expect the goal would have been allowed to stand, in spite of what Taylor said. Most refs hate to change their minds. It was lucky, I guess, that we won the match 2–1. I might not be so happy about what he did if we’d dropped two points. But you know, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Taylor wins the Player of the Month on the strength of that confession. It’s the sort of fair play the FA likes to shine a spotlight on.’
‘All right. You’ve convinced me. Now tell me about this Scottish goalkeeper, Kenny Traynor. Zarco says you’ve known him for a while. And that you’ve seen him play.’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘João wants to buy him.’
‘So do I.’
‘Nine million is a lot of money for a goalkeeper.’
‘You’ll be glad you spent nine million on a goalkeeper if we’re in a penalty shoot-out at a European final. It was the Bayern goalkeeper, Manuel Neuer, who saved Lukaku’s penalty and delivered the Germans the 2013 UEFA Super Cup. He almost won the Champions League for them against Chelsea the previous year. Christ, he even scored one himself in the shoot-out. No, boss, when push comes to shove you don’t want to find we’ve got Calamity James in goal.’
Calamity James was what Liverpool supporters had called David James — a little unfairly — when he’d played for them.
‘When you put it like that, yes, I suppose you’re right.’
‘Traynor’s the Scotland number one. Not that there’s much choice up there, mind. But I saw him make a diving save against Portugal at Hampden that the Scots still talk about. Cristiano Ronaldo hammered one from eighteen yards that was going into the top corner all the way, but I swear Traynor must have launched himself twenty feet through the air to fist that ball over the bar. Watching it you’d believe a man could fly. Check it out on YouTube. The Jocks don’t call him Clark Kent for nothing. He’s a nice lad. Quiet. Not at all chippy like some north of the border. Works hard in training. And he’s possessed of the biggest, safest hands in football. His dad is a butcher in Dumfries and he’s got his mitts from him. As big as bloody hams, they are. And his hand — eye coordination is superb. When he did the BATAK Challenge he scored 136. The record is 139.’
‘If I knew what that was—’ said Viktor.
‘Not to mention his clearance kick. That boy has a boot on him and no mistake.’
‘I’ve seen some of the films and I agree he’s good. I’d just feel more comfortable about buying him if Denis Kampfner wasn’t his agent. The man’s a crook, isn’t he?’
Restraining my first impulse, which was to mention something about the pot calling the kettle black, I agreed. ‘Agents? They’re all crooks. But at least Kampfner’s a FIFA-registered crook.’
‘As if that makes a difference.’
‘It’s like evolution, Viktor. Agents seem to fulfil a need and I guess we have to tolerate them. Like those birds that sit on the backs of rhinos and peck the ticks out of their ears.’
‘Ten per cent of nine million is a little more than a tick.’