90 Minutes Is Not Enough

Robert Mann

Description

Have you ever wondered if your local town's football team could make it in the Nationwide League and how they would get on? "90 Minutes Is Not Enough" is the story of just that. Meet the players, manager and the somewhat unorthodox chairman of Redbourne Rovers as they go from the obscurity of non league football to the glory of being the winners of the first domestic final in England played at the new Wembley in their inaugural season in the league. Follow their progress in a breathtaking rollercoaster of a journey around the football grounds of England, spiced with a bit of romance, a lot of skulduggery and some very unexpected twists. Essentially though, it is all about the beautiful game and the dreams of success that are encompassed within it by every fan, player and manager involved with it.Book reviews online @ www.publishedbestsellers.com

Sujets

• Sagas

Informations

• Publié par: Pneuma Springs Publishing
• Date de parution: 31 décembre 2006
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781782282242
• Langue: English

Extrait

90 Minutes
Is Not
Enough


Robert Mann
Copyright
First Published 2006 Published by Pneuma Springs Publishing
90 Minutes Is Not Enough Copyright © 2006 Robert Mann
Kindle eISBN: 9781907728525 Epub eISBN: 9781782282242 PDF eISBN: 9781782280361 Paperback ISBN: 9781905809103
Pneuma Springs Publishing E: [e-mail] W: www.pneumasprings.co.uk
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Published in the United Kingdom. All rights reserved under International Copyright Law. Contents and/or cover may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written consent of the publisher.
The Novel
1
A Fiery Baptism
The pitch and the stands were now deserted. Confetti and tickertape blew haphazardly around in the gentle late evening summer's breeze. All was now quiet compared to the wild celebrations four to five hours earlier when Redbourne Rovers had celebrated the Conference title in front of around five thousand delirious fans. A huge banner still hung from the director's box emblazoned with the words
"Redbourne Rovers Conference Champions 2005-2006".
The goals still had red and black scarves tied to their crossbars by adoring fans from earlier. Outside of the stadium as darkness fell the last of the Sky television crews were dismantling their equipment after filming the historic scenes earlier in the day. In town, at a local hotel the Chairman was hosting a celebratory dinner for the team, directors and all the club staff (the club did not have a social club for it had been that hard up). Outside the hotel some diehard fans still waited hoping for a glance at their heroes bedecked in the red and black shirts that had become so well known in the season just gone.
Miles Grimley the chairman was a proud man as he stood up to speak and a little drunk if truth be known. The champagne had been flowing in copious amounts since the final whistle and players and club staff alike were getting more drunk and boisterous as the evening went on.
"Everyone I will make this short"
boomed Miles, seemingly slurring his words as the alcohol started to take effect. A raucous cheer erupted from the back of the room where most of the team were seated with their girlfriends and wives.
"You can never make anything short. When are we getting our bonuses you tightwad?"
jeered the club captain Jock Mcleish a dour Scotsman who had been with Redbourne Rovers for the last two years. He attempted to throw a bread roll at the chairman and overbalanced and collapsed back into his seat amid huge merriment from his team mates. Missing from the celebrations was the club’s iconic manager Terrance Fletcher who was widely tipped for great things in English footballing circles and his gorgeous young wife Ashleyene. He had gone home with what seemed to be food poisoning about an hour after the game had finished.
"Bonuses”
joked Miles
"I must be getting amnesia! I would just like to thank everyone for their hard work and dedication this season. The team couldn't have done it without your help and support. Would you all like to raise your glasses in a toast?”
Everyone staggered to their feet for the toast
"The Rovers" boomed Miles”
"Are going up”
shouted the rest of the room as the cheers erupted again!
The interview Miles had had with Sky Sports shortly after the final whistle had been far more formal than this, with Miles being quizzed at great length about his ambitions for the club and spending plans for the summer. The issue of the cost of ground improvements had also come into the conversation. Miles had not batted an eyelid, he was used to high stakes poker games and assured the interviewer that the necessary money for ground improvements would be available in order to allow Redbourne Rovers to take it’s rightful place in the football league at the start of the next season! Redbourne Rovers was a club going places was his final comment to the interviewer!
Whilst the celebrations were getting more and more rowdy in town, up at Redbourne Rovers’ spiritual home in Pines Lane the rickety but quaint elderly stadium was now quiet the last of the television crews having departed. The night watchman had strangely not turned up for work which was unusual for him. Two men had though, dressed all in black with balaclavas covering their faces. They had arrived in a battered old Cortina with a trailer attached, which they had backed up to the rear entrance aptly named ‘The Country End’ because behind it were rolling fields leading to the local river. On closer inspection one would have noticed that the car was missing registration plates on the front and back. A crow bar forced the padlock on the double gates and they were in. The driver backed the car into the ground following the route that the emergency vehicles would take if needed almost to the edge of the pitch. Within the trailer were four drums of petrol. Working quietly and efficiently as a team they unloaded the drums onto trolleys. Sweating profusely under the black clothes for the night was very warm; the two men went from stand to stand. One would push and one would pour every few yards when the other stopped. The smell of petrol was over powering and they worked by the light of the moon and a small pocket torch when they went down below the stands.
Nothing was spared in the historic old stadium which was actually a listed building such was its antiquity. Changing rooms, the manager's office, the ticket office and the club shop all were doused in petrol. After around forty five minutes hard work all four drums were empty. The drums were swiftly loaded back onto the trailer and the car drove out of the double gates and stopped about 100 yards from the ground. The two dark clothed figures still wearing gloves and balaclavas exited the car holding flare guns the type normally seen on the coast being used by lifeboats and coastguards. They nodded to each other took aim and fired twice each at the stadium behind them. The flares landed with a dull thud and a fizz.
The two men waited until they were certain that the flames had taken a hold in each stand. Seeing a solid plume of smoke arising over the roofs of the stands and hearing the angry crackle of flames they were satisfied. Jumping back into the old Cortina they headed away from Pines Lane. About half a mile from the ground the road doubled back over the river before heading into town. Stopping on the bridge the two men jumped out and the empty drums were hurled into the dark river below. The bridge was the only access route to the ground and it was for this reason a rag was stuffed into the now open petrol tank. Walking a safe distance away from the car both men fired at it using the last of their flares. Their aim was unerring both flares entered the petrol tank within seconds of each other and the car exploded into flames. The two men jogged a short distance in the darkness to a nearby barn. Hidden there were two quad bikes, their escape route had been planned with military precision. Within minutes they were roaring across open countryside leaving a conflagration behind them.
By now all four stands at Pines Lane were well alight the flames reaching high into the night sky. A series of loud explosions further disturbed residents of the nearby housing estate which was just over half a mile from the ground as the gas cylinders in the catering outlets beneath the stands exploded like mini rockets. Phone lines to the emergency services were going mad with a deluge of calls coming in from concerned residents. Both fire engines from the local station had been dispatched. Tearing up the only road to the ground at over fifty miles an hour the lead engine almost rammed the still smouldering Cortina as they came speeding blindly out of the dip before the bridge. They stopped just in time, tyres screeching with a matter of feet to spare! Extinguishing the smouldering wreck of the Cortina was an easy task; the trained firemen put it out within minutes. Getting the wreckage off the road was another thing. The frustrated fire-fighters had to wait for twenty minutes for a recovery truck to get to them after frantic calls to their control room. By this time the fire at the stadium dominated the night sky with the flames shooting about fifty foot into the air destroying everything that they touched. Most of the crews on the two engines had been at the game earlier in the day and waited with a combination of great sadness and anger unable to do their jobs or save at this moment the home of the football club they loved.
At last the road was cleared the blackened metallic skeleton of the Cortina having been pulled off the road by the recovery truck into a nearby field. There was no need to hurry now. Pines Lane had been an inferno now for over thirty minutes. As the convoy of two fire engines followed by a police car and a Sky TV crew got within sight of the stadium the main stand which was totally wooden and over a hundred years old collapsed into itself in an angry roar revealing an ash and debris covered pitch. The Sky TV crew couldn't believe their luck; they had stopped in the town of Redbourne for something to eat after their coverage of the game earlier in the day. Now they had a story that was even bigger! As his crews unloaded their hoses and equipment the fire commander surveyed the scene grimly. There certainly wasn't going to be much football played at Pines Lane in the foreseeable future he contemplated looking at a fiery scene of terrible devastation.
Slowly, oh slowly the fire crews began to get the hellish inferno under control. The only side of the ground which was still standing was The Country End where the intruders had got in, the superstructure of this end was concrete and now a blackened husk, the seats having all vanished. All the other three sides of the ground had collapsed and were now black smouldering ruins being dampened down