Glory Of The Football Manager System

”So what do we go back in at?”

”That is your call, son. You are the one who has watched him for 40 days.”

I sat in that bus stop with the hazards going and did it out loud, because I have never once been able to do it any other way.

In March that boy was worth about 5 million pounds and there were 9 people in England who could name him.

We went in at 12 on the 14th of June. Madrid did not counter and they did not laugh, they just did not come back, and then he played 7 matches on television and everybody lost their minds.

But nothing has actually changed at Real Madrid since the 14th of June.

They have got Dani Carvajal, who is 26, who has 6 years on his contract, who is the best right back in Spain and has been for 4 seasons. Behind him they have got Odriozola, who they paid 30 million pounds for 3 weeks ago.

Achraf Hakimi is 19 and he is 3rd in that queue and he is going to be 3rd in it next August as well.

Madrid know that. That is why their plan was always to lend him out for 2 years. Nobody lends out a footballer they are about to play.

So Madrid are sat there this weekend with a 19-year-old they cannot get on a pitch, and an agent who has just been sacked, and an auction that has fallen over.

”15,” I said.

”Yes?”

”We bid 12 in June and got nothing back. Go again at 15 and let them tell us no properly this time.” I put the hazards off. ”3 million more than a number they did not counter 5 weeks ago, for a lad who cannot get in their team.

”If they say no we have lost a letter. If they say maybe, we find out tomorrow instead of on the 8th of August with 24 hours left and 4 clubs behind us.”

”And if they want 25?”

”Then they want 25 and we walk, and I will not sulk about it.”

There was a noise on that line that I think was Dougie Freedman being pleased and refusing to sound it.

”Test the water,” he said.

”Test the water. Tomorrow morning, direct, no agent, and put a date on it. 7 days and it expires.”

”7 days.”

”I am not being held over a barrel for 3 weeks while somebody uses us again. They can have a week.”

”Do it in the morning.”

”I was doing it in the morning whether you said that or not.”

”And Dougie.”

”What.”

”His father rang me. About 40 minutes ago.”

”I know. He rang me first and asked for your number.” A chair went. ”What did he want?”

”To say thank you.”

Dougie Freedman did not say anything for about 4 seconds, and Dougie Freedman is not a man who does that.

”That,” he said, ”is worth more to this bid than any number I put in the letter, and neither of us is ever going to be able to prove it.”

”There is still no third goalkeeper.”

”There is still no third goalkeeper, and I have got 2 names for that and neither of them will make you happy, and I will send them at 8 in the morning.”

”Send them now.”

”No. Because I know exactly what you are like, and if I send them now you will be up until 2 watching clips of a 31-year-old from the Championship, and on Monday you will walk into a meeting with an opinion instead of a question.

”8 o’clock. Go home. You have got a fiancée and you have been in another country since May.”

There were 5 photographers on my road at 8 o’clock that morning.

There were 9 when I got home, and I went past all 9 of them without looking, and got up 6 flights because I still cannot make myself use that lift.

The flat smelled of food.

Emma was in the kitchen in the white shirt she sleeps in and nothing else that I could see anywhere in the world, with her hair up off her neck and a tea towel over one shoulder, doing something to a pan at 20 to 12 at night.

”You are late.”

”I am sorry.”

”I did not say I was cross, I said you are late.” She did not turn round. ”Sit down. It has been in the oven twice.”

I sat down at my own table and she put a plate in front of me.

Chicken and rice and about half a jar of something she has been making since 2016 and will not tell me what is in it. First hot food anybody has cooked me since the 31st of May.

”Em.”

”Eat it.”

”I need to tell you about today.”

”No.”

”Emma.”

”No.” She sat down opposite me with her chin on her hand and looked at me. ”I have known you 3 years and I have watched you come through that door 400 times, and I know exactly what your face is doing right now, and I do not care.

”Not tonight.”

”There is quite a lot of it.”

”There is always quite a lot of it. There will be quite a lot of it in the morning and I will still be here.”

She reached over and took a bit of chicken off my plate with her fingers. She has done that since the first month and it drives me up the wall.

”Danny. We got engaged on the 27th of May.”

”I know.”

”And on the 31st of May you got on an aeroplane.”

I put the fork down.

”7 weeks,” Emma said. ”We have been engaged 7 weeks and we have spent 6 of them on a telephone, and last night you got in at 20 past midnight and this morning you were gone at 8, and I have had 1 evening with the man I am marrying since the spring.

”So tonight you are not going to tell me about a football club.”

”Right.”

”You are going to eat that, and then you are going to come to bed, and at some point in the next 3 weeks you and I are going to sit down and pick a month, because my mother has asked me 4 times and I have lied to her 4 times.”

”A month.”

”For the wedding, Daniel.”

”I know what for.”

”Then say a month.”

”Say one first.”

”No,” she said. ”You have been picking things all day. Somebody else can pick something.”

I looked at that woman across my own kitchen table at 20 to 12 at night in a shirt I paid for, with a tea towel on her shoulder and my chicken in her fingers.

”June,” I said.

Emma Hartley stopped chewing.

”June.”

”End of it. After the season. Before pre-season.”

”You have thought about this.”

”I have thought about it since about March.”

”You have never said one word.”

”No,” I said. ”I was waiting to be asked.”

She sat back in that chair and did not say anything for a second, and then she got up and came round my side of the table and took the fork out of my hand and put it on the plate.

”Bring that with you,” she said.

”I have not finished it.”

”Danny.” She had a fistful of my collar again. ”Bring the plate.”

I brought the plate.