Playing for Keeps (Love Goals #1)

Chapter 1

ONE

STEVEN

Brockton FC’s assistant manager Steven Cox sat in the dugout with his boss and manager, Javier Tosar. He glanced up at the stands. A sea of mint and white football shirts. The colours of his team. All eyes on the pitch. Steven rubbed his sweaty palms on his tracksuit bottoms.

“Millions of pounds’ worth of footballers out there and they’re bloody coasting,” Steven muttered.

“What happened to all the passes we practiced?” Javier grumbled. “No one’s keeping possession of the fucking ball.”

Javier leapt to his feet. His face a worrying shade of red. Steven half expected fire to blaze out of his nostrils and char the grass.

“Adam, get up the pitch!” Javier screamed. “Colin, back him up!”

Steven got up. “God I wish I were out there,” he said.

Javier slumped down on the chair next to him. “So do I. What the hell is wrong with them?”

It was mid-April and mercifully no rain after a severe winter. The away match against the seaside resort of Brighton should have been an easy win. Unfortunately, their opponents were one goal in the lead.

Brockton FC forward Shaun Riggs raced up the left wing with the ball. Steven tracked him like a hawk. The crowd roared. Could this be the moment?

Shaun passed the ball beautifully. Both Steven and Javier jumped up.

“This is more like it,” Javier shouted.

“Come on, Jerzy,” Steven hollered. “Give him some support, the rest of you.”

Three Brighton defenders were on Jerzy in an instant, but he stayed ahead of them. Over by the goal, new signing Udo Holtmann was totally unguarded. With expert precision, Jerzy struck the ball hard. It flew over the defenders’ heads and hit the ground in front of Udo.

“Beautiful,” Javier shouted.

For a second it appeared as if everything had come together. The Brighton players raced to shut down Udo. Steven held his breath. The sun made Udo’s golden hair shine. His handsome face in total concentration as he lined his shot up.

“He’s taking too long,” Steven said under his breath.

In no time, the Brighton defenders swarmed all over him. Udo sliced the ball, but it went massively wide. Steven grabbed his head.

“Fuck!”

The Brockton fans booed at Udo mercilessly.

“What the hell was that?” Javier cried out. “How long does he need to think about it?”

Shaun shouted something at Udo right in his face. Poor Udo couldn’t meet his teammate’s eye.

The Brockton FC captain, Adam Williams, ran over and broke it up.

“Now we’re going to have players scrapping on the pitch,” Javier grumbled. “The media will love that.”

Steven had no words. They still had time to rescue this match. Brockton were dangling over the relegation zone which meant demotion to the Championship. If they were going to stay in the Premier League, they had to turn this around.

Twenty-five minutes later the referee blew the whistle to end the game. Thankfully, Jerzy Brylska, another new signing, had scored, giving them a draw with Brighton.

Steven and Javier followed the dejected team into the building. As usual, a gang of reporters were waiting for a debrief.

“Adam,” Javier called. “You can speak to them.”

It was a smart move. Adam never courted controversy or said anything stupid. He’d always been popular with the female fans. Strong jawline, stubble and wide smile. What wasn’t to love?

“Me?”

“You’re the captain, aren’t you?”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Think of something.”

As Adam was about to reply, Steven shook his head. There was no use trying to argue with Javier when he was this angry.

“It’s not a loss,” Steven said to Adam. “Tell them we’re still above the relegation zone and Brockton FC will be in the Premier League next year.”

Adam nodded. “Let’s hope it’s fucking true.”

Whilst the rest of the team headed for the showers, Javier stormed into the office that was set aside for visiting managers. Steven followed him and closed the door.

Javier lay down on one of the cheap fake leather sofas. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“We should have won that match,” he snarled. “We went through the playing style of every single defender on that team. Why the hell didn’t they listen?”

Steven had no answer. He perched on the edge of the desk.

“A draw is decent,” he soothed. “We’re not going down to the Championship yet.”

They both jumped as the door burst open. There stood Jamie Walters. CEO of Brockton FC. At fifty-two, he was one of the youngest football bosses in the business. He’d inherited the role from his father and took it very seriously indeed.

“What the shitting hell is going on?”

He stormed into the room and slammed the door.

“Holtmann had an open bloody goal,” he continued, not waiting for an answer. “Was he waiting for an official invite?”

Neither Javier nor Steven could argue. At five feet seven inches with a designer suit, a decidedly dodgy tan and cropped hair, Jamie struck fear into the hearts of their players. He held the purse strings after all.

Steven often reflected on how comical it must appear when Jamie was giving Javier and Steven a dressing-down. Javier stood at six feet with olive skin and a beard. Steven was taller with dark brown skin and stubble that he fought a losing battle with daily.

“He took a while to set it up,” Steven conceded.

“Oh come on,” Jamie replied. “Would you have taken that long?”

Steven shook his head.

“It’s supposed to come naturally,” Jamie continued. “What have you been doing with him? He was a fucking superstar at Stuttgart and Chelsea. Now he’s here, he’s a bloody thinker?”

Javier stood. The walls of the tiny room seemed to close in on them. “He only came to us in January,” he said. “You have to give us a chance.”

“We had two transfers. From my understanding, the other scored our goal today. Do something about Holtmann or he’ll be on the market quick-smart. I’m not running a retirement home.”

With that Jamie stormed out of the office, banging the door behind him once again.

Steven exhaled. “He’s not happy.”

“Putting it mildly,” Javier replied. “If I screamed at the players like that, I wouldn’t get anything out of them.”

Javier’s management style was vastly different to Jamie’s. He wanted to find a deeper connection with his players and coax the absolute best performance out of them. Steven respected this. The camaraderie between the players had always been exemplary.

Maybe not today.

Javier rubbed the bridge of his nose. “He does have a point.”

“What about?”

“Udo hasn’t exactly set the grass on fire since he’s been with us. I can’t understand it.”

The thought had crossed Steven’s mind too. There had been a real buzz amongst the staff and supporters when they’d secured him. His stunning German features had featured in many advertising campaigns over the years. People thought they knew him.

Now, three months on and he’d only scored twice. Steven had lost count of the opportunities that he’d squandered.

“The lads won’t put up with it forever,” Steven said. “Shaun looked fit to rip his head off when he missed that goal.”

Shaun Riggs had always been about winning. Nothing else seemed to matter to him. It was a useful trait if directed properly. It might also result in yellow or even red cards when it wasn’t.

“Can you do some one-on-one work with Holtmann?” Javier asked.

Steven frowned. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Firstly, find out what the fuck is blocking him,” Javier replied. “Give him some tactics talk. You’re great at all that. Look at Colin and Edi. That’s down to the work you did with them last year.”

A flash of pride swelled in Steven’s chest. The team were remarkably open to his advice. He supposed having wins in the Champions League, Premier League and FA Cup gave him a special kind of kudos.

“It’s a good skill to have, Steven,” Javier added. Really hammering his point home.

Steven dreamt of managing a club himself one day. Learning how to get through to such a variety of players would only stand him in good stead.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

Javier stood. “Good stuff. Now come on,” he said. “Let’s go and speak to them.”

Steven followed Javier out of the office and into the locker room. As usual the smell of sweat and the steam from the showers assaulted his senses. He never got used to it. Windowless rooms where greatness was formed or lost.

Yet something was wrong.

The players wandered around getting showered and dressed in silence. Usually banter ricocheted across the four walls. About someone’s latest girlfriend or car. Today nothing.

Udo had his head down and was still in his kit. Steven’s heart went out to him. The team meant everything and letting them down hurt. He’d been in that position enough times in his life to understand.

Javier clapped his hands together. The sign for everyone to congregate on the benches. Which they did.

“A draw is not a bad thing,” Javier began.

“Should have been a win,” Shaun replied.

A few stared at Udo, who hadn’t raised his head.

“All losses or draws should have been wins,” Javier continued. “But they weren’t. We’re not in the relegation zone yet, lads. The next few games have to be ours.”

There were murmurs around the room. Steven glanced nervously from one player to the other.

“If you guys aren’t a team, everything’s fucked,” Steven said. “We’ll work on passing and finishing this week. I want you to know what the other is going to do before they do.”

Shaun got up. “What’s the point if some of us are gonna throw it away?”

Before Javier or Steven had a chance to respond, Adam stood.

“That’s enough, Shaun,” he said. “We don’t do blame in here. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do, but for fuck’s sake. My kid would have scored that goal and he’s two.”

Finally, Udo looked up. He was ashen-faced.

“I know I messed it up,” he said. “I’m sorry. I don’t—”

“Apologies don’t make us safe,” Shaun cut in.

“Hey,” Javier barked. “I won’t have this. Adam’s right, no single player loses a game. Shaun, you’ve missed plenty of goals in your time. I don’t remember anyone in this room laying into you.”

Shaun reddened and sat down. He scowled across at Udo.

If the negativity had come from one person, Steven wouldn’t worry about containing it. Everyone knew Shaun could be a moody bastard. Unfortunately a few other players were glaring too.

They really didn’t need a split team.

“There’s no point in talking today,” Javier said. “Everyone get on the coach and calm down. On Monday we’ll go through this match. See where we need to improve. Remember, Jerzy scored, so we’re not going down yet. We can do this.”

They all dispersed. Steven went and sat next to Udo. The dirt from the pitch still daubed over his bronzed skin.

“It’s been a rough day for you,” Steven said.

Approaching his mid-thirties, this was Udo’s last chance at playing at topflight level. When the end of their career came in sight, it did strange things to footballers.

“Another one,” Udo said bitterly. “Shaun’s right. He should be able to expect more from a teammate.”

“Shaun is perfectly capable of giving you grief all on his own. You don’t have to help him.”

Steven glanced around. “Listen. I’d like you to come in early on Monday.”

Udo snapped to attention. “Why?”

“Relax. It’s nothing bad. I want to spend an hour with you each morning before the others show up.”

“Won’t that set me apart from them even more?”

Even more? So he’s definitely feeling it.

That saddened Steven. At Brockton FC they prided themselves on welcoming new players.

“They don’t need to know,” he said with a wink. “It’s nothing major. I want to talk tactics with you.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Absolutely not,” Steven replied.

It would not do to share Jamie’s threat. He took his job very seriously and often threw threats like that around. They rarely came to anything.

“Go and get showered,” he continued. “I’ll see you Monday.”

Udo nodded and got up.

“Thanks.”

Steven watched him walk away. Sometimes, a locker room could be the best place on earth when the team bagged a win. It could also be one of the harshest environments on the planet when things didn’t go their way.

He would absolutely turn Udo’s game around. He’d seen plenty of players struggle during his playing career. Now was his biggest chance to prove himself in management and Steven Cox had never shied away from a challenge.