Chapter 19
England team camp is gruelling. Gary Austin is not a manager to keep it light in order to avoid injuries.
He requires high-intensity participation throughout the entire camp.
Since this isn’t the first time I’ve trained with him, I’m not at all surprised.
My brothers, on the other hand, are a different story.
“Christ, this is a sweet, sweet form of hell on earth,” Tanner baulks after his mile-long cooldown run. He yanks down the sweatband around his forehead and groans, “It’s your fault we’re here, Gareth.”
“My fault?” I ask with a laugh and tip my head back to squirt some water into my mouth. “I didn’t pull any favours to get you guys here.”
“Austin makes Dad look like an angel,” Camden huffs as he joins us on the sideline. He bends over to grab his water bottle and takes a swig. “This reminds me of my first camp at Arsenal. It was killer.”
Booker jogs over next, having just finished his goalkeeper session on the far side of the pitch. “Hiya, guys,” he says happily, his voice smooth and completely at ease.
“Why aren’t you puking?” Tanner asks, staring at Booker like he has two heads.
“Why would I be puking?” Booker asks, pulling off his keeper gloves and dabbing the sweat on his temple with his forearm.
“God,” Tanner scoffs. “Keepers have it so easy. What did you guys do over there? Sit down in a circle and visualise stopping the ball?”
“No, we worked on punting,” Booker defends and looks to me for explanation. “We did visualisation this morning.”
I roll my eyes toward Tanner. “Ignore him, Book. Tanner is just dying because the prat spent the last six months eating pancakes like they were his last meal, and he’s out of bloody shape.”
“Fuck off,” Tanner cajoles, dropping down on the ground. “And the joke’s on you because they were completely worth it.”
Hobo is next to join us. The tall, curly-haired German’s smile is pretty much permanent since he got called to join the camp. His dual citizenship in England and Germany made his presence on the England team a possibility, but it was his stellar season with Man U that earned him the spot.
Hobo looks down at Tanner’s crumpled up posture as he sits on the grass. “Tanner, why do you always appear like a corpse at the end of camp every day?”
“I don’t!” Tanner retorts with a serious furrow to his brow.
“You do. You are out of shape, my friend. I think perhaps you have been too repetitive in your workout routines.” Hobo sits down next to Tanner and uses his hands as he gesticulates what he’s saying.
“See, every club and manager is different. I’ve played for so many teams, I am used to drastic changes in workout regimens.
This skill makes me a valuable player. Let me show you. ”
Hobo rolls into a push-up position and looks over his shoulder at Tanner. “Tell me this. When you make love to your wife, is this how you do it every single time?” Hobo begins pumping his hips into the grass in the missionary position but with comical, fast, jerky motions.
Booker, Camden, and I burst into laughter as Tanner’s face crumples in disgust. “Fuck right off, German!” he bellows, bolting at Hobo and shoving him onto his side. “I can’t even understand a word you’re saying. What language are you speaking?”
“English, but I know four other languages if you prefer I try those instead.”
Tanner blinks stupidly at him. “Why don’t you try the language of shut the hell up?”
Hobo laughs, not the least bit put-off. “I can stay late and do some conditioning with you if you’d like.”
Tanner swerves his eyes to me. “Gareth, control your teammate. I think he’s coming on to me.”
I laugh and shake my head. “He’s your teammate, too, right now. And he has a point. You wouldn’t be hurting so much if you watched your diet,” I state, eyeing him seriously.
Tanner stares up at me. “Gareth, why do you hate fun so much?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Chelsea team making their way onto the pitch. We’ve been passing them the last few days as our camp ends and their daily training begins.
I spot Vince Sinclair amongst his teammates, his beady eyes darting away from mine as soon as he sees me.
He’s been giving me a wide berth since the trash talking that happened in the tunnel at our last match.
It seems uncharacteristic for him, but I imagine it’s because he’s angry he wasn’t invited to train.
“Is anyone else surprised that Sinclair wasn’t invited to this camp?” I ask, looking down at my brothers and Hobo.
“I’m not. That guy’s a fucking wanker,” Camden growls. “You saw that highlight where he tackled me from the backfield a couple weeks ago, right?”
“Yes,” I reply through clenched teeth. It was entirely fucked-up. The reporters remarked on how lucky Camden was to be able to walk off a hit like that.
“He was completely going for my bad knee. The prat should have been red-carded.” Camden rips up some grass and tosses it out in front of himself.
“Well, at least we won’t ever have to play on the same team as him,” I console.
“Thank fuck for that,” Camden grumbles.
I stare at Vince again and an odd feeling pricks the back of my neck. One that I can’t quite put my finger on.
The rest of camp goes incredibly. Tanner—whiny as he may be—picks up the pace and comes alive the last few days, especially when he and Camden break off into offensive work.
They immediately click like no time has passed since Cam left Bethnal Green.
And Booker is one of three keepers here.
What he lacks in experience, he more than makes up for with his passion.
Eventually, Austin splits the group off into two teams for a closed friendly match, and I’m thrilled to see that he’s put my brothers, Hobo, and me all on the same side.
Playing alongside my family again is a thrill I never realised I was missing.
It’s been years since we’ve all played together, but I guess all those years of going over match films with Dad has finally paid off.
I know exactly what my brothers are going to do before they even do it.
It’s instinctual. Blindfolded, we’d each probably know where the other is at out on the pitch.
It’s especially exciting to play with Booker.
I was never able to play on a team with him since I signed with Man U before he started for Bethnal.
But knowing I’m not only defending to keep my keeper safe, but also my brother, brings a whole new level of intensity to my game.
Not that Booker needs my help. He stops three goal attempts from the other side with the ease of a seasoned athlete.
The rest of the team feeds off of our energy.
In the end, our friendly match becomes a bit of a walloping as Tanner and Camden bounce the ball back and forth, scoring goals and sending the opposing keeper into fits.
It’s a beautiful game of football. If we never make it to the World Cup tournament together, this day alone will be an experience I cherish for the rest of my life.
But when Austin calls us into his office and says he wants all four of us to be at the press conference room at Wembley Stadium tomorrow morning, we’re practically buzzing with anticipation. He won’t tell us what is going to be announced, but we have a good idea what to expect.
Camden, Tanner, Booker, and I are seated at a long table up on an elevated stage. There are microphones positioned between each of us, and Gary Austin stands at a podium beside me.
The room is filled to the brim with over one hundred reporters, cameramen, photographers, and various team staff members who are standing off to the sides.
This is the first official announcement from England concerning their World Cup squad, and the people are excited for what’s about to be shared.
Austin clears his throat, and the chatter in the room mutes instantly as he begins speaking.
“Thank you all for being here today. I won’t be announcing the entire twenty-three-man squad for England today. That will be released at a future date so that those men get their quality time.
“What I’m about to tell you all is a bit unorthodox, and that is why I’ve called this special press conference.
“The Championship League clubs have been making insane headlines as of late. Games have been utter chaos in the best way possible. Honestly, football fans are losing their minds with highlights of this calibre.
“And when great things like this happen, it is a genuine fear that the World Cup tournament will be anticlimactic. I mean, historically, coaches keep their game plans very simple with national teams. You can’t expect these athletes to get together for a couple of camps and some friendlies and have the kind of chemistry that they do with their own teams they play with every day.
“But, I’m shaking up England’s team this year. I’m dipping into the Championship clubs for my squad because there is certainly the quality of playing that I’m seeking. And there’s a set of brothers whom I think can bring the spirit of football to an all new level for England and the World Cup.
“When you have four boys and a father who’ve lived, slept, and dreamt about football their entire lives, it’s something you notice.
“Are there Premier League players who are more qualified to be on my squad? Absolutely. Are there four people more dedicated to the sport of football who have cleaner records and higher statistics? I’m sure there are.
Are there four brothers who have more heart, more passion, more love for their family and this game? No. There is not.
“That is why I’m calling up all four of the Harris Brothers for the World Cup team. After what I’ve seen this past week at a private camp I held, I’m convinced they will lead England in this tournament and bring home some new gold trophies for our country.”
Austin backs away from the podium and the press explode with questions, one after another, after another.
My brothers and I look at each other. Our faces are composed on the outside, but anyone looking close enough can see that fire, that spark.
That game time moment of adrenaline that shoots through an athlete’s entire body right before a big play.
With a small nod to my brothers, I turn my focus back to our manager.
“Coach Austin, what about Tanner Harris and his questionable judgement last season?”
Austin pins the reporter with a menacing glower. “I’m well aware of Tanner’s past, and I’m not concerned about it in the slightest.”
“Coach, don’t you think Booker Harris is a bit too young? A bit too inexperienced? He’s only played for his father’s team.”
Austin scoffs and shakes his head. “The Cup has had seventeen-year-olds play before. And have you seen the size of Booker Harris these days? He towers over his oldest brother, whose position on the squad is being doubted by none of you, I’m sure.
Booker is fit and he’s a fine keeper. He’ll do the job well. ”
“Coach, can you remark on the bad blood between Vaughn Harris and the Manchester United Football Club?”
“No, I cannot. Vaughn Harris has not been asked onto my team, so his history with Manchester United is of no relevance to me. The only thing I know about Harris is that he runs a top-notch club in Bethnal and he was a joy to watch in the 80s.”
“Coach! Coach! Gareth Harris’s home was burglarised three months ago. There are rumours that it was foul play within the league. Players angry at you for inviting four brothers over other more qualified players. What do you say to that?”
My brow furrows. I quickly slide forward to the mic, giving Austin a nod that I want to take this one. “I’ve been told the incident is still under investigation. Unfortunately, no one has been caught.”
Austin’s eyes are narrowed at the reporter as he adds, “And if there are rumours of foul play within the league, I hope they catch the bastards who committed that crime. Any athlete not man enough to see that this game is about a hell of a lot more than statistics isn’t a player I want to coach on my team. ”
Austin sits down in the chair opposite the podium, his forehead covered in a sheen of sweat as he takes a drink from his glass. The team publicist comes out next, announcing that my brothers and I will take a few questions before concluding the conference.
A male reporter catches my attention in the front row. “Gareth, how was the secret camp you just completed with your brothers?”
I lean forward to the mic. “It was an experience that I will remember for the rest of my life. World Cup or not, I’m thankful that Austin gave me the opportunity to play alongside my brothers again.”
“Tanner, how does it feel to be playing with your twin brother again? Were you angry at him for signing on with Arsenal?”
Tanner laughs and shakes his head. Tucking his long hair behind his ears, he leans into the mic and says, “You’re bloody well right I was angry. He doesn’t call, he doesn’t write. I don’t even remember the last time he sent me flowers.”
The reporters erupt into laughter as Tanner winks at Camden, who just rolls his eyes.
Tanner returns to the mic and says, “No, I wasn’t angry. I was proud as hell. I’m proud of all my brothers every single day.”
“Booker Harris! When is the new baby arriving? Are there going to be wedding bells in your future?”
Booker smiles a shy smile and leans in. “The baby is arriving any day now, and we’re holding off on wedding plans until then. For now, we’re just excited to become parents.”
“Camden, any chance your wife will be on the medical staff for England?”
Camden laughs and shakes his head. “I’m afraid that’s not up to me, but I’m certain my wife would do the job well. My knee has never felt better.”
“Gareth, what do you think your father will say when he hears the news?”
I inhale a deep breath and exhale slowly before replying, “I think he’ll say that our mum would have loved to be here for this.”