by Chris Harris
Three Bridges FC away were the next team to try and break down the Denham Phoenix FC defence. As the bus was indeed parked again, and the predictable single counterattack ended up in a goal. Three wins out of three. And again, a large crowd, 150, which baffled Greg immensely. He didn’t recognise a lot of them. But a lot of them seemed to recognise him, as lots of people glared at him as if they knew him.
Standing with the other directors, he began to feel, as they closed the game down, that the team were becoming genuine contenders. For promotion, even before the season started, it was a big call, but he was sensing something exciting. He mentioned to the board, “It’s amazing, so many people keep on looking at me, what’s that all about?”
Charlie replied, “Oh haven’t you seen that YouTube video? Dean did. It’s had 2,000 views. Lots of positive comments about you.”
Greg got his phone out, and underneath the video was comment after comment of affirmation for what he was doing, along the lines of, it’s amazing what Greg was doing at Denham Phoenix FC, and how good it was to see a progressive club. Greg felt oddly proud.
He would have gone and congratulated Dean, but he had his meeting with Catherine afterwards, in the Red Lion. He was of course pensive and admitted to himself he had overthought it far too much, having spent far too much of the last four days reading up more and more about women’s football.
He wasn’t sure whether she would turn up with Charlie, and he was so nervous about it, he half hoped that she would, so it could just be a business meeting, and not a business meeting with a clandestine motive.
He made sure he had a soft drink, and so did Catherine.
The meeting was fruitful for Catherine, as you would expect, as Greg acceded to every single one of her demands. But he was really getting into the idea of a women’s football team, so he actually agreed with all the demands anyway. She had drawn out a list of all the costs, access to training facilities, and applications to join the women’s leagues. How seriously they were going take it, well naturally Greg said “very”
What surprised Greg the most was that during the hour of the meeting, he didn’t flirt with her once, or even think of flirting with her. She was so impressive, in the conversation, and he was pleased in the moment, because he knew he could come across as a little bit flirtatious, and a little bit desperate, and that wasn’t a good thing. So, to make it look like he’d lost interest, even if it was by default.
The plans were all laid out on the Thursday board meeting of the new women’s team. Economical Tony was delighted.
“You know what that means,” he said. “If we get a women’s team, then we’re going to be a lot more likely to get an FA grant and save a load of money when we eventually get the 3G pitch done. In fact, it might be more economical if we got some of these new fangled padel board pitches as well. I don’t know how the finances are all going to work with that, but I’ll put in a grant application to the FA and see where we go. And it’s probably about time to get a land surveyor, or someone up to check on the feasibility of what we can do, and where we can put new changing rooms and toilets, or whether we just utilise what we’ve got. It’s slightly subjective.”
“Yes,” Greg said, “I can’t stress highly enough how important it is we get these 3G pitches done, especially now we’re going to have a women’s team, so we can have proper training facilities, and let’s hope a large income stream from them. From what I’ve looked into so far, there’s actually no reason if we get those pitches booked out all the time, it covers all of the running costs of the club, and can actually start paying back some of the costs of the pitches. Although obviously, if we do climb the league ladders, costs will rise, but I’m certainly backing this, and I think it’s really important for the club we get this pitch or pitches.”
He couldn’t help but note another smile, almost of admiration, from Catherine Brown.
He thought to himself, what an excellent couple of days it had been, and how well everything was going.
The next day, it was back to the coalface. Greg didn’t have his own office. Greg’s office was his collection of car retail showrooms and his own car and mobile phone. As running the football club became more of a commitment, he told the managers of the various retail outlets that they would all have to step up. They were all going to get large pay increases, but he expected them to make the decisions and take them away from him. He was more than happy to answer the call, listen to their proposals, and set the agenda and strategy, but at the end of the day, it was now up to them to see it through.
The Saturday before the start of the season and the arrival of Burgess Hill Town. In the same division, but everyone was very confident. It was sinking in that the season was already paradoxically unravelling, with high hopes of success and low expectations of enjoyment.
But Dean had come up with a plan, one that Greg simply could not get his head around. “We need to create a fun brand around our solid defence, accentuate the positives”
He had begun flooding the social media with videos of buses parking, pictures, and examples of great defenders and defences. Tactical defence training workouts, He’d even bought himself a classic Land Rover ‘Defender’
“The thing is defending is a thing of beauty if you think about it. We all love to watch attacking teams, but at the end of the day, a good defensive display can be just as aesthetically beautiful, just not quite as interesting. With anything, you have to play to your strengths. Just trust me with it.
“Mmmm, bit of a wider gap though than you suggest between the aesthetically beautiful and the not quite as interesting as far as the punters are concerned” Charlie quipped, taken in the right spirit by Dean, but Greg noted, many a lesser person wouldn’t have.
As someone who trusted his entire board, he was happy to do so.
And after going 1–0 up against Burgess Hill, they upped the ante in search of an equaliser. Out of nowhere, a frustrated away support started singing the famous children’s song:
“The wheels on the bus go round and round…!”
Standing off to the side in a tight little grouping, the board didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. They were embarrassed, unsure whether Dean’s campaign had backfired and the club was about to become a joke.
They met up in the Red Lion with Dean, and some of the players. There was no doubting the camaraderie, no doubting the run they were on: four games on the trot without defeat and there was an almost celebratory mood. “Does Ed mind you lot drinking?” Big Mal asked him.
“It’s non league football it’s good for team spirit, as long as they stick to their fitness regimes, they can do what they want within reason” Dean replied.
Lucy had got herself a new boyfriend, who they all met, some sort of salesman. And in the way that young lovers do, they sat in the corner, hardly drinking, nauseatingly gazing and laughing at each other.
Greg felt a sense of relief, not that he didn’t like Lucy, and not that he didn’t enjoy their occasional evenings together, wrapped up with each other at the end. But he had to sort out the financial matters pertaining to funding the 3G pitch and stand, where the costs were as high as his ambitions, and now Lucy’s sober head was needed to provide funding options and tax advice.
Especially now, because during the evening, Economical Tony had pointed out the value, and potential income from the growing trend of padel boarding for the proposed 3g pitch developments. Although it all sounded great, a bit drunk, Greg had no clue what padel boarding was and pictured a load of dinghies sitting motionless on a 3g pitch with children aimlessly paddling.
It had been a good night at the Red Lion and, coming home on his own, Greg went straight to bed, bright-eyed and ready for the meeting that Economical Tony had quickly arranged. They were due to meet a planning consultant on the Monday and on the Tuesday they were going to meet a cost consultant and a drainage and flood risk specialist, but on the Sunday, it began in earnest.
At the ground, Greg was thinking he’d soon be able to call it a stadium; they met a land surveyor, a pitch specialist, and a sports surface consultant. Greg had had no idea how much would be involved, and he was beginning to divvy up the potential costs as more and more professions were drawn into the project. But he also knew he was creating something that would be genuinely exciting, something that felt ambitious and forward-looking, and, as a single man with no commitments, he found himself enthused and energised by the scale of it.
At the end of the meetings, Economical Tony said to him that these guys were mostly going to provide lots of reports, that they would speak to a few other people next week, and then pull together an initial plan. He reminded Greg, in his blunt, confident way, that the last thing they were going to do was pay money out to professional people they didn’t have to pay, but that they would need those reports for planning. After that, as far as Tony was concerned, they could make decisions using common sense and Tony’s experience.
There was something about Economical Tony, not just the cost-cutting instinct, but the assurance of his manner. The truth was, he’d been building for decades and had a strong reputation, and Greg still sometimes had to pinch himself that he had all these people around him, giving up their time. He always had to remember they were doing it for free and that, although it was his club and his land, he was never going to make any money out of it, so they were all in the same boat. Being on the board at a non-league football club is a great leveller: you might be the head honcho, but you’re also the person that loses the money. And as Greg mused to himself, while his business was accruing wealth at a rate of knots, what else was he going to spend it on?
He lay in bed that night Sunday night, the one night of the week when he always felt a little lonely, cuddling his Catherine pillow, even though he was perfectly happy in his own company. His thoughts kept drifting back to Catherine. He wanted to message her and tell her about everything that was happening at the club, all the momentum and the excitement, even the possibility of a new clubhouse, but he knew there was a line there. He couldn’t really text her about the football club and ignore the fact she had a boyfriend on the board and not him, it would look creepy, even if that wasn’t what he was doing, even if it was innocent. He was in a space now when anything happened he wanted to tell Catherine before Big Mal.
Still, as he tossed and turned, he reached for his phone and settle his insomnia, and typed a message. “Lots of developments today at the club. We may even be getting a new clubhouse, as I’m not sure the current one will accommodate the expansion of the club, especially when we set up the women’s team. If you can think ahead about how we could design it internally, let me know.” He signed it simply, “Greg.” No x, no emoji, nothing that could be read the wrong way. It was straightforward, work-focused, and he sent it. Being about the women, he’d get away with it.
There was nothing wrong with the content of the text, but as soon as it was sent he began to overthink it. Sending a message at 2.30 in the morning, even an entirely innocuous one, was probably not the right time. He lay there replaying it in his head, trying to decide whether it looked enthusiastic or inappropriate, professional or personal. And then, just as he was getting himself tied in knots, his phone pinged.
“Oh, that’s amazing, Greg x.” with an x!
After that, Greg slept soundly.
In excitement he googled the significance of the x, was it a sign? Maybe, probably not, just friendly with a very minor tinge of affection. Well probably. He’d take that any day, a tiny probably was after all better than nothing.
Next week, the final pre season game v Lewes, Ed is challenged at an EGM, the finance meeting with Lucy goes wrong and Greg explains all of his plans.
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Welcome to Denham nr Lewes 