4
The momentum keeps building after that and a series of breakthroughs follow in quick succession. First, we receive an email from someone who wants to enquire about season tickets, which I excitedly tell Dad, Cassie, Bob and Marge about at our next kitchen table meeting.
‘I didn’t even know if that would be a thing at this level of football,’ Dad confesses.
‘It would certainly help with our bank balance.’ I tap my pen on the pad in front of me. ‘What do you think we could reasonably ask of people?’
‘I don’t suppose we can ask anything till we’ve actually got some players and our FA approval,’ Dad says. ‘Let’s give it some more thought then we can put it to a vote further down the line.’
I tick it off the agenda and we move on to the next item– Dad also has some big news to share, courtesy of the coach hire company where he works.
‘I thought I might be for the chop when the owner called me into a private meeting. He usually just leaves me to it and we stay out of each other’s hair. But it was quite the opposite– after everything I’ve done for the company, he wants to throw his support behind Crawford United, so he’s offered us a complimentary coach to ferry our team to away games and said he’ll make sure there’s always something spare. I practically bit his arm off!’
If it were possible to burst with pride, I think Dad would be exploding.
‘Of course there’s an expectation of a mention or two on our website,’ he adds. ‘But I think we can all live with that.’
‘A hundred per cent, that’s amazing,’ Cassie gushes.
‘It’ll save us loads,’ I agree. ‘Please say thank you from all of us. Though I’m sure you already have.’
We move on to the final item on tonight’s schedule. And it’s more good news from me.
‘I’ve had an email from a reporter at the Hamcott Herald. She’s somehow got wind of our story and wants to interview me, Cassie and Dad for this Saturday’s paper.’
‘She must have picked up one of your flyers,’ Marge speculates. ‘This could really help us let more people know about the player trials and the crowdfunding. Have you already said yes?’
I nod. ‘I just need to let her know when.’
It’ll certainly make a change from all the Ben Pryce stories that are still dominating the sports headlines thanks to his stubborn silence over the fan incident at the Millford–Hamcott game. The more he refuses to discuss it, the more the speculation keeps growing. What makes a professional athlete lose control to the extent that he risks his whole career over it? Will he get dropped by Millford City for bringing them into disrepute? The conjecture goes on and on. But it’s time to move on to a more positive story– our story.
‘She’s happy to come here to do it, and says we can either supply our own photos or she’ll take a couple while she’s here,’ I explain. I’ve already got one in mind. It’s from Cassie’s engagement party and people always comment on how alike we look in it. The hairstyles are different– Dad’s is short with the odd fleck of grey among the brown; Cassie’s is long, straight and impossibly glossy; mine stops at my chin in a wavy bob– but we have the same blue eyes, oversized smiles and rosy cheeks.
‘Does tomorrow suit everyone?’ Dad asks. There are nods all round. ‘Then I’ll pick up some better biscuits on the way home from work. We want to make a good impression.’
The reporter, Helen, laughs when I tell her Dad did this. ‘It’s much appreciated,’ she says as she takes a seat at the kitchen table the following evening, dropping her rucksack on the floor beside her after she’s extracted a notepad and her phone. Me, Dad and Cassie are in our usual spots, as if we’ve never been away.
‘I’ve been run off my feet all day,’ Helen tells us, sweeping her hair off her face. She sighs as it flops straight back into the same position. ‘Literally all I’ve eaten is half a sandwich.’
‘Then let me put something better in the air fryer,’ Dad says. ‘I’ve got a chicken that needs roasting. It’ll be ready by the time we’ve finished chatting. Unless you’re vegetarian?’
‘I’m not, but there’s no need to go to any trouble,’ Helen assures him.
‘We’ve all got to eat,’ Dad insists. ‘There’s some cold pasta and salad in the fridge. It won’t take me long to throw it all together.’
Helen catches my eye and smiles. ‘Is he always like this?’
I laugh. ‘He is– he’s a feeder. But in a good way.’
‘Then thank you, that sounds amazing. And in the meantime, thank you all for agreeing to chat to me. Do you mind if I record our conversation? Just so I don’t forget anything.’
‘Not at all,’ Dad says, and soon we’re filling Helen in on what we’ve achieved so far and what we’re hoping to achieve on the long road ahead.
Helen, it turns out, is a big fan of an underdog story and is already rooting for us to succeed. Not only does she want to run this initial piece, she says she’d like to do some follow-ups and asks if we’d be happy for her to come along to watch the player trials too.
‘Absolutely,’ Cassie says. ‘I mean, they’re just in the park so we can’t actually stop you, but it would be a pleasure to have you there. There might be one or two fans watching from the sidelines too.’
Barbour has already told Dad he’d like to be there.
‘Perfect. Then hopefully I can collect some good quotes,’ Helen says with a smile. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of Alasdair Frowley for a comment too– the author, do you know him?’
‘Do we?’ I roll my eyes. ‘Dad is probably keeping him in business. He’s bought every single book. He loves a good crime thriller. He even queued up outside our local bookshop when the last one came out.’
‘Did you know Frowley was a long-time Hamcott Park fan?’ Helen asks. ‘When I was doing my research I stumbled across a tweet he wrote a few weeks back about how the managers are ripping the soul out of the community he used to live in by relocating the club. I think it would make a really nice piece to hear his thoughts on the emergence of Crawford United.’
‘I had no idea,’ Dad exclaims. ‘Not that I ever look at social media, but his books are all set in LA.’
‘That’s where he lives now,’ Helen explains. ‘But he was in Hamcott as a teenager and apparently never stopped following Hamcott Park. His agent told me he’s shut away on some kind of writing retreat at the moment so he’s incommunicado, but I can let you know if I ever get hold of him.’
‘Yes please.’ Dad nods enthusiastically. ‘I think I like him even more now. Maybe I’ll even get to meet him one day.’
I don’t point out that our budget is unlikely to stretch to a trip to Los Angeles.
Helen wraps up our chat just before the air fryer pings, telling us she thinks our story will make a charming read. Tucking her notepad and phone away, she thanks us for making her life so easy and promises anything we say over dinner will be off the record, but we pretty much stay on the topic of football anyway. She’s an East Hedgely fan, having been introduced to them by her high-school boyfriend, but admits she mostly only has time to catch their highlights on Top Goals since joining the Herald.
‘Not that I’m complaining,’ she adds. ‘I love my job.’
Graciously turning down Dad’s offer of raspberry crumble and ice cream for dessert, she thanks us for being such great hosts, but explains that she wants to get her piece transcribed so she can get it uploaded first thing. After we’ve waved her off and are back at the table with loaded pudding bowls in front of us, we all agree that it went as smoothly as a first brush with the media possibly could have.
‘Shall we round off the night with an episode of Dying Days?’ Dad suggests.
It’s the TV series based on Alasdair Frowley’s books, about a tough female homicide detective trying to make her mark in a male-dominated police department in downtown LA. It started a few weeks ago so I don’t know why we haven’t watched it before, given Dad’s such a Frowley fan, but he’s always been more of a book reader than a TV watcher.
It’s Mum who loves a good crime drama on telly, so inevitably my thoughts drift to her as Cassie and I make ourselves comfortable on either side of Dad on the sofa. It’s hard not to miss her when it feels like this would have been her perfect end to an evening.
I make a mental note to ask her if she’s been watching the show next time we chat on Zoom. Given how much she’s rooting for me and Cassie to prove our capabilities at Crawford United, I think she’ll like the way the actress, Angela Paramore, captures the detective’s determination.
Dad, Cassie and I congregate at the kitchen table yet again the following evening, with Bob and Marge back this time, and the first topic of conversation is Helen’s article. It talks of fighting back against the big guns and is full of hope, admiration and community spirit, and Marge declares that it feels like a virtual cuddle.
‘We just need to see if it has any impact now,’ Dad says.
‘I don’t think you need to worry about that,’ I reassure him. ‘Traffic to our website has more than doubled today, and a couple more donations have trickled in. We’re a long way off our target but they’re all steps in the right direction.’
And yet another piece of the puzzle has fallen into place off the back of Helen’s feature– we’ve finally found a training ground! Most of the local schools and sports centres Marge contacted were too concerned about their grass getting churned up to agree to let our team practise there.
‘But today Upper Hamcott Academy called me back with a change of heart and I don’t think that’s a coincidence,’ Marge says. ‘They’ve decided the presence of our players might inspire their already sporty students to push themselves even harder and have offered us ninety minutes of pitch time on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.’
‘Lock that down,’ Dad advises, reaching across the table to high-five her. ‘That’s a massive win.’
‘So we’ve now got a kit, a coach, a name, a fan pub, a website, a training ground and a friendly face in the press,’ I summarise– and all this has happened in a little under two weeks. ‘I know we’ve still got a lot of money to find, but I think we can allow ourselves a little pat on the back.’
‘Yeah, at this rate we’ll have our team in the Premier League by 2025,’ Bob says.
‘Steady on, Bob.’ Dad laughs. ‘We’ve got bit more work to do before that happens.’
But I think all three of us are starting to feel like we’re on a roll and that nothing can stop us now.