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Vaulks4

By Vaulks4,
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Vaulks4

Vaulks4

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It's the 22nd January, 2021. It's a Friday, and San Giovanni are preparing for a big game against Libertas on Sunday. They've been having an excellent season, and a win against Libertas will help consolidate their position at the top of the table. 

Once the training session is over, Jack Turner picks out the chairman, Fabio Giardi. He has something he needs to talk to him about.

 

"Fabio, you're going to need to find somebody else to coach the team on Sunday."

Fabio looked at Jack, startled. "What d'you mean?"

"I can't make the game, boss."

"What d'you mean, can't make the game? Are you quitting?"

"No, not at all. I just can't be here for this one."

"Well why the hell not? Are you ill? Are you dying?"

Jack stared at the floor. He could feel his face getting hot, and his eyes were welling up. He wished he was anywhere else. For what seemed like the millionth time since Sam's death, he longed for a universe where none of this was happening. Or had happened.

"I just can't make it," Jack said, fighting back tears. "I've got somewhere I need to be."

"And where might that be?"

"I can't tell you," Jack said. "But it's important."

Fabio sighed. He had no wish to alienate the only semi-competent manager the club had seen. He still didn't entirely trust Jack - he was a likeable man, but he was obviously hiding something - but things at the club had never been better. If he needed to miss a game, so be it.

"Very well," said Fabio. "Enjoy your day off."

Day off, Jack thought? Hardly.

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Vaulks4

Vaulks4

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Youth Intake Day!

Jack thought he might have something in Simone Valentini (YP21a) when he had to strain his neck just to make eye contact with him. He knew for certain about 10 minutes later when Valentini put in a last gasp tackle during a training session that wouldn't have looked out of place in the Premier League. Marco Benedettini (YP21b) looked a good prospect as well, and seemed excited at the prospect of playing games upfront.

 

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Bedese

Bedese

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16 hours ago, kidthekid said:

Poor Jack.

Jack stared at the screen. Poor Jack? He'd heard those words before...

"Oh, such tragic news about Sam. Poor Jack. How's he taking it?"

"Poor Jack. He just hasn't been the same since... the incident."

"I just feel so bad for the lad. Poor Jack..."

Poor Jack?

Poor f***ing Jack?

Jack jumped up, throwing his phone to the floor. It didn't smash, so he grabbed it and hurled it at the wall. It smashed this time. He stormed over to the battered Samsung, stomping away on it in a frenzy until it was in nearly as many pieces as Jack's heart.

Poor f***ing Jack?

"I don't need your f***ing sympathy!" Jack roared, before faltering to barely a whisper.

"I just need my brother back."

 

 

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Bedese

Bedese

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Hold on a second.

If they were the Cup Runners Up, but the Cup Finalists had qualified for Europe anyway through their league performance, then surely that meant...

It did. San Giovanni were going to be playing in the Europa League for the first time in history.

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Holy s***, Sam.

The Europa League. The f***ing Europa League! I'm going to be managing a game in it!

I'd do anything for that 'I'm' to change to a 'We're.' This journey would be the best time of my life if you were here. The best time of our lives. Instead, it's just a distraction. A fun one, sure. I'm enjoying it more each day, even if I do still feel like a fraud. But at the end of the day, it's still just a distraction. Something I can use to escape.

*Sigh..*

It's not really working though, is it?

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8 hours ago, oriole01 said:

Should be a manageable tie, that!

Jack wondered how a Wolves and Maribor fan knew that. @oriole01 seemed like he might know a lot of things about everyone - a lot of things that even that person didn't know. He shuddered to think what @oriole01 knew about him.

Did he need a job as a scout?

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Not bad, Jack reckoned. The quality of the game was awful, to say the least, and a missed penalty before HT could have been huge, but a 1-1 draw gave them a chance of getting a result in... in Wales.

Why did it have to be Wales?

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It was the early hours of the morning in Wales, but Jack Turner wasn't exactly finding it easy to go to sleep. Memories were flashing across his mind.

Going to his first ever football match with Sam - Southend away at Wrexham, in Wales. They'd lost 3-0 to Wrexham, but it was a good day.

Going to all those games after that, as Southend season ticket holders. They'd make a day out of away games. The beach. The pub. Wherever.

When Southend had beaten Man United 1-0 in the cup, thanks to Freddy Eastwood. They'd gone absolutely mental together. Pure happiness.

Jack turned over in his bed.

The not so good times, too.

Jack noticing that Sam had been a little... off, and volunteering to chaperone Sam's school trip to Cardiff as part of the football team. Seeing him run off with Gareth, and getting a sinking feeling. But you didn't do anything about that feeling, did you, he thought? He'd pushed it down, hoping that everything would be okay. 

Coward. My fault.

Finding white powder in Sam's room after that. He said it was just talcum powder. You knew he was lying, but you chose to believe him anyway, didn't you? You didn't want to face the truth.

Coward. Coward. Coward.

My fault.

Jack grabbed the pillow and pulled it tight over his ears, trying to block out the voices.

My fault. My fault.

Going to the police station in Cardiff to pick Sam up after he'd ran away from home and gotten himself in trouble.

You saw the tears in his eyes, but you didn't know what to say, did you? So you just told him that it was going to be okay. You both knew it wasn't.

Liar. Coward. My fault. 

LIAR. COWARD. MY FAULT.

Jack bolted upright. Tears were streaming down his face. He was dripping in sweat. His chest had tightened up, and he was struggling to breathe.

There were eight hours until kickoff.

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  • 2 weeks later...
Bedese

Bedese

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7 hours ago, kidthekid said:

Nice!!

Jack appreciated the compliments, but they didn't stop him feeling like a fraud. A fake. What business did he have in the world's most prestigious club competition? 

It'd be different if Sam was here. He'd think rationally. They'd be a force together - but they weren't together.

Far from it.

Fraud. Fraud. Fraud.

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Jack knew a little about Santa Coloma. He'd read about them on a forum once, he thought. Some bloke named @shaunvamos?

He didn't know how good they were, but his mind was filled with worry. He didn't think his team were fit enough. They definitely weren't technically ready. What if they got battered? The game was going to be televised, and hipsters from all across the world would be watching. What if he cried on TV? Fans were be travelling 1,000 miles to watch them play. He couldn't let them down. Jack felt like he'd let enough people down to last a lifetime. He knew that he was loved by the fans, but that just made things worse. Why couldn't they hate me, Jack wondered? I wouldn't mind if they hated me. I could deal with it if they hated me.

Oh, please let us be good. But we won't be good. We're rubbish. We're going to get battered. Jack would be surprised if they could keep the score below 10. These guys had won their own league. They had a real manager. What was Jack even doing here? He didn't belong here. He was going to get found out as a fraud. He wasn't a football manager. Why was he here? I should just resign, Jack thought. 

Jack looked at his watch. F***. They needed to get to the airport. No time to resign. They were actually going to Andorra to play in the Champions League. It was actually happening.

He'd have to resign later. 

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Santa Coloma were rubbish, Jack thought. Didn't make us any better. And TNS had won, which meant going back to Wales if they were drawn away from home. TNS was close to the Welsh border. Maybe Jack could just stay in England and manage the game from there? No, that wouldn't work. What if he faked an illness? Yeah, Jack thought. That's what I'll do. I'll fake an illness. I won't have to go back to Wales if I'm ill. I could say I had a cold? No, not enough. The flu? TB? I cou...

Jack was interrupted by the sound of a text coming through on his phone.

It was the club secretary. They'd been drawn at home against TNS.

Thank f*** for that, Jack thought.

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Jack had managed to collect himself enough to get on the coach to the airport, but as he waited in line to board, his mind was going 180mph. He thought about turning back, but he was sandwiched between Marco Benedettini (YP21b) and Andrea Bollini (YP22a). He couldn't leave. It'd be fine. He'd just go to sleep on the plane, stay in his hotel room until the game, and they'd leave right after TNS hammered them. It'd be fine.

The plane had taken off. It wasn't fine.

It was fine, Jack thought. It was fine. There was nothing to worry about. He was just going to Wales. That was it. Nothing to worry about in Wales. He took deep breaths, trying to compose himself, but it wasn't working. His hands had gone clammy. Despite the deep breaths, he was struggling to breathe. It felt like his head was going to explode. 

I think I'm going to die, Jack thought.

Jack spurted out his seat, and locked himself away in the solitude of the plane toilet before slumping down to the floor. 

There were only two hours till Wales. He could hide in here until then.

 

 

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Pretty decent result, and they had a chance in the second leg. Jack knew that his excuse of being scared of flying hadn't landed - the chairman had looked at him suspiciously, and pointed out that he was fine when they flew to Andorra, but Jack didn't care. He was back home. In San Marino.

Not really home at all.

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