* * *
Johnny picked me up on Friday.
"Come on, Alex, let's sit down."
"Johnny, thank you, but I don't have time. I have to go to Exeter."
"Bloody hell, Alex. What haven’t you seen there? There are also only black ones. And ones that compared to your Cameroonian, are like way before Premier-League."
"You're a racist, Martin. You know, money doesn't know colour."
"Are you taking the car or the train?"
"I’m going by train."
"Then let me give you a ride. We need to talk."
He was driving badly. He twitched, broke sharply, and in general was somewhat nervous. I was silent. There's nothing I could do to help him. Let him speak for himself.
"That’s it."
"What’s it?"
"It's over. Harris is being removed."
"Oh, come on? How do you know that? Did you talk to the Big Boss?"
"Yes. I honestly explained to him that I didn't want to be a rat and couldn't work with the blokes without the old man. That today there was nothing better than Harris for the team. I told him that we have gained momentum and do not need to break anything."
"What about him?"
"Well, what about him… You know. If he's got the reins under his tail, there's nothing you can do about it. Generally speaking Harris is not permanent."
"That's disgusting. That’s bad."
"Too bad," Martin agreed. "I don't know what to do now…"
"When will it be announced?"
"Tomorrow, before the match."
"Wankers…"
"Yeah."
At Exeter, I was checking out a bloke to play as a fullback. He was a tough Irishman, aggressive and mean but for serious work still a little green. Losing his head he picked up yellow cards during the season. So in this match he got his "sick leave". Although he must be given his due, he always sees everything on the pitch and was good during the selection process, true that was by Exeter City standards. I'll have to watch him a couple more times. It would be interesting to watch him in the cup, against a stronger team than the one from Oxford.
It was almost midnight when I got back to London and I immediately fell asleep. In the morning, I had twenty-nine thousand new messages on my smartphone.
As soon as I read the first one, the phone rang.
"Alex, you owe me one." It was O’Grady, "What's going on at the club? Are they filming Harris?"
"Sean, bloody hell, I just got up. I got in really late last night."