The Cameroonian was still running around like a bloody cheetah, and even the fact that the manager of the Reading team replaced the Scot, who was completely exhausted, for a fresh defender, it didn't help them much.
In the seventy-third minute, our «Novichok» moved to the centre and suddenly shot from the left. If the rascal Collins had seen the bloke kick with his left, even though all the documents said that he was right-footed, he would have asked not for five but probably for ten percent. Their goalkeeper jumped into the corner as if he was remembering his time playing for the Gunners but even that didn't save him.
Then there was also a pass from the corner to our centre-back Evans who headed it into the crossbar. After that in added time, our prize player again ran along the edge and shot one off right at Parker's head. The result was a goal and a total of three to zero which was now on the scoreboard.
"Man-eating cannibal! Cameroonian cannibal!" Yes, you can't deny that our fans have a sense of humour. That was probably the most innocuous and least racist thing that they had shouted all evening.
The bloke was all right, job well done. He simply smiled and walked up to the stand behind the goal and thanked everyone! Many newcomers have to be told that thanking the fans is also part of the game. He thanked them and they clapped. It was all very grown-up.
I didn't go into the locker room. It's not the job of a scout or an agent to shout out victory songs with the blokes and appear in collective photos. However listening to what journalists are going to say in the mixed-zone and then at the press-conference are things that are always important for an agent to know so that they know in advance what the newspapers will write about in the morning. This is especially important when your ward played his first match for a new club.
"Hey, Alex!" the Daily Mail sports columnist Sean O’Grady was the first to intercept me in the mixed-zone, "Tell me about this new bloke!"
"Hey, Sean."
"Hi, there."
"So, what do you want to know?"
"Me?" he laughed. "Don't spin things around! What do you want me to write about him?"
Oh, these journalists. They understand everything. I smiled.
"Write that he's nineteen years old. That he is very fond of children and his mother. That he has a brother in Montpellier, and then of course add that he's the new Gareth Bale."