Beautiful Game

Matthew Xuereb

Description

It certainly is everyone's dream to be a professional footballer; to be successful, rich and famous beyond one's wildest dreams, at the peak of one's youth. Alessandro was certainly living that dream, but how many would believe that his seemingly perfect life may not be as easy as it seems, that it has its trials and tribulations just like anyone else's, that he is as prone to the same emotional distress that afflicts any common mortal?

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 30 avril 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528963640
• Langue: English

Extrait

The Beautiful Game
Matthew Xuereb
Austin Macauley Publishers
2019-04-30
The Beautiful Game About the Author About the Book Copyright Information Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15
About the Author
Matthew Xuereb was born and raised on the semi-tropical island of Malta. Having been a massive sports fan since his youth, it comes as no surprise that his debut novel revolves around the life of a professional footballer.
He is also an avid traveler, avian admirer, and renowned couch potato.
About the Book
It certainly is everyone’s dream to be a professional footballer; to be successful, rich and famous beyond one’s wildest dreams, at the peak of one’s youth. Alessandro was certainly living that dream, but how many would believe that his seemingly perfect life may not be as easy as it seems, that it has its trials and tribulations just like anyone else’s, that he is as prone to the same emotional distress that afflicts any common mortal?
Copyright Information
Copyright © Matthew Xuereb (2019)
The right of Matthew Xuereb to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528922036 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528922043 (Kindle e-book)
ISBN 9781528963640 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Chapter 1
Westside Wanderers 1-0 Middlesbrough half-time score
Morale was generally high as the team assembled back into the dressing room for the half-time break. There was a hint of unease in the air, however, as the notoriously hard-to-please manager, Li Destri, was looking far from happy with the team’s narrow lead.
‘We need to finish this game off already!’ he barked in his thick Italian accent. ‘We should be 3 or 4 goals up by now, per carità,’ he concluded, with a meaningful sideways glance at the team’s misfiring striker McShane, who was looking particularly glum.
The lanky Irishman had arrived on deadline day as a relative unknown, having spent the entirety of his career at his hometown club, Shamrock Rovers. Having been instantly dubbed as a “panic buy” he set out to silence his critics and managed to find the net in 4 of the first 5 fixtures of the season, in spite of his evident lack of finesse with the ball at his feet. His scoring streak was quickly stifled, however, as the Premier League defenders eventually figured out his playing style, which mainly involved lurking into the penalty area to sniff out a free header or a poacher’s goal. Pressure was now mounting on Li Destri to drop the “Peter Crouch of Dublin”, who had failed to get onto the scoresheet for over 500 minutes.
‘I am going to piss now. I expect a 3-0 win! Dai, cazzo!’ No pressure, lads.
After a quick review of tactics with the manager who seemed much calmer on an empty bladder, the team made their way back onto the pitch.
The home side continued to impose its dominance in the second half, but was still unable to end the contest as a result of some wayward finishing and the inspired form of the visiting goalkeeper. The team captain, Alessandro Troisi, was left frustrated on a couple of occasions as his defense splitting through balls were squandered by the lumbering McShane who, on top of having the technique of an Armenian carpenter, looked utterly bereft of confidence.
As fate would have it, the players’ inability to capitalize on their chances would cost the home team at the end, as a seemingly innocuous shot from Stewart Downing was spilled by the goalkeeper, with the rebound falling into the path of Alvaro Negredo who gratefully accepted the opportunity to steal a point for his side.
Li Destri was, quite predictably, beside himself with fury. He exploded into a string of expletives that only Troisi could understand, which included his branding of the team as a “bunch of pussies”.
Although Li Destri wasn’t known for his cool head, Troisi had never quite seen him like this. For the past few weeks, voices around the dressing room had been in agreement that the fiery Italian had lost the plot. In spite of this, however, Troisi was of the opinion that his ire was more than justified. Having finished the previous season in third place, the team was expected to mount a serious challenge for the title this season, but with the first quarter of the season gone, a Europa League berth was now starting to look like a more realistic objective.
Of course, it was still early days and Li Destri, who was constantly being bombarded with cheeky questions from shameless journalists week in week out, was right to point out that having sold two of their star players to rival clubs, and the added responsibility of the Champions League certainly did not aid their efforts in the domestic league. These words would fall on deaf ears, however, as the media and the fans are as fickle as anyone who has experienced the footballing world should expect them to be, and simply refuse to lower their expectations of a team that had amazed and inspired the footballing world just a season before.
Alessandro Troisi, known simply as Troy, couldn’t wait to get back into the sanctuary of his home after yet another disappointing evening. With the shouting of Li Destri still ringing in his ears, he had a quick shower and slinked out of the changing rooms with the intention of reaching the parking lot undetected. Try as he might to sidestep through the sea of journalists, however, luck was not on his side as he was eventually intercepted by a Sky Sports reporter, who seemed to be expecting the captain to turn up at that exact spot.
Sigh. Just be quick and straight to the point, he told himself. Tell them what they want to hear and they’ll let you go.
‘We saw some good football tonight from the Wanderers overall but yet again the team failed to get the win. Do you feel you deserved to get something more out of this game?’
‘Well, no. We did play some attractive football and created many more chances than they did, but in the end it’s all about scoring goals. We didn’t do that tonight and Middlesbrough took full advantage of that, so fair play to them.’
‘What about your personal performance? You gave a clever assist to Acheampong for the opening goal, surely you must be satisfied with that?’
‘Yeah, well, maybe in a few years’ time when I watch that goal on YouTube it will feel good to remember it, but right now all I can think of is that we dropped another two points. Football is a team game and you shouldn’t focus too much about individual performances, whether good or bad.’
‘Individual performances do matter though. McShane has failed to score yet again, and the Boro goal came from a shot that many will think your goalkeeper should have held on to. You must be aggrieved that that mistake cost you the win tonight, what do you think of that?’
‘What do I think of that? It was a mistake. I make mistakes, you make mistakes, we all make mistakes, so that is what I think.’
‘Yeah, but do you feel—’
‘No.’
Annoyed as he was by that last question, he was glad to be given an opportunity to storm off. Since the day he established himself as an elite Premier League footballer, Troisi had experienced a fractious relationship with the media. He would never forget that summer of 2014, when a prominent newspaper had published a false story about him having signed a pre-contract with the club’s eternal rivals, and the jeers and boos he would have to endure at every home game until the rumors finally died out. Fucking wolves, all of them, he thought as he stepped out into the cold October night and made his way to his car. Did that “coglione” really think that I would throw my teammates under the bus? Fuck that.
Just as he was about to enter his Audi TT, Troisi was ambushed once again, this time by a much more welcome presence. It was his midfield partner Freddy Acheampong, who was leaning against the bonnet of the car.
‘Jesus Christ!’ exclaimed Troisi. ‘I told you not to do that, for fuck’s sake.’
‘Do what?’
‘Sneak up on me like that. You know I can’t see you in the dark.’
‘Fuck you! You’re just jealous of my beautiful ebony skin,’ Freddy quipped back, grinning broadly.
‘Ebony? You learned that word from a porn site, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah, and so did you, I bet.’ They both cracked up in laughter, breaking the chilly silence of the parking lot.
‘So, what did you want anyway?’ asked Troisi.
‘Just wanted to see if you wanted to hang out with us at the pub. Nothing like a pint of Guinness after a game like that, right?’
‘Oh, uh, I was thinking I should probably go home. I’m not in the greatest of spirits, and besides, the coach will be pretty mad if he knew we were out partying after we, uh, “let him down” yet again.’
‘That’s the worst excuse I’ve heard from you yet. And we’re not going partying, it’s just a few drinks, come on, man! You’re always like this!’
After a few more minutes of relentless nagging, Troisi was finally persuaded to give up his beloved bed, in exchange for a night of drinking alcohol, and listening to sub-standard music while weaving one’s way through crowds of inebriated clubbers. They were joined by another teammate, Steve Campbell, who was an avid partygoer and often made the headlines for the wrong reasons.
‘Fucking Troy! In a nightclub! Are you actually here