I hung up with Eva, a rueful smile on my face as I felt how much I was missing her and the freedom to just make a call whenever we wished. But this was the bed we had made for ourselves, and it was unavoidable. It was, at least, infinitely preferable to the alternative option available to us.

I dragged my arse up the stairs into what was becoming the football room in the house. I had all of the kit ready for the next evening and I took my book from the bag and brought it downstairs, made a cup of tea and sat in my chair with the book open on my lap. I perused my notes and the proposed team formation. It wasn't quite hitting me where I needed it to hit. I felt that Tony Bolton could be a liability if his attitude didn't change, but that was an easy fix. I'd simply leave him on the line to start the game. That usually softened their coughs for them.

It was a bit more than that, though. I felt we were a bit small in midfield, even though I hadn't had a sight of the opposition. My father's favourite expression was always, "give me a good small one who can, instead of a big one who can't." It was something I aspired to also, given how I had to manage being slight. I decided to go with my gut, I only had Paul Fitz as a big lad, and he hadn't got even one tenth of the skill of any of my midfield four. My phone rang then.

"Derek Caldwell."

"Hi Derek, Pat Dawson here, you might remember me from Rutland Street."

"Pat Dawson, any relation to Tommy?"

"Yeah, he’s my brother."

"Ah yes, I remember you well, how's your Da?"

"He's ok, I told him I was going to ring you and he sends his best."

"He's a great man, tell him hello from me. What do you need, Pat?"

"My young lad, Joseph, is looking to play football."

"Is he any good?"

"He's ok, I suppose," he said, "he's football crazy though. United mad."

"Like Tommy."

"Yes, like us all, actually."

"We just moved out here a few months ago and Joe is the school 200 metre sprint champion."

I sat up in my chair, suddenly interested.

"Does he have any sense of playing with a ball, Pat?"

"Yes, but he's a bit wrongheaded sometimes."

"In what way?"

"He can be a bit hyper."

"That's not what I asked, can he run with a ball?"

"Yes, he has decent ball control."

"I'll decide that. Will you bring him around to the green tomorrow afternoon at 4:00?" I asked, "I'd like to see him in action."

"I'll bring him around myself," Pat said, "does he need boots?"

"Yes, the boots should be spotlessly clean and on his feet at 3:55," I said, "we've a match tomorrow night so I haven't a lot of time to spare, Pat."

"I can just bring him training on Thursday night."

"No, I need a bit of pace in the side," I said, "if he pans out, I'll sign him tomorrow and play him in the match."

"Are you sure? What will you see in a short time tomorrow?"

"If he can help me beat the offside trap. A pacey player is a good cure for that."

"You're going to teach him the offside law tomorrow at 4:00?"

"No, I'm going to show him, and a few of my players, one way of beating the fucking thing."

"Cool, we'll be there, I can't wait to see this."

"See you then, Pat, don't be late."

I rang Eva.

"Hello baby, this is unexpected."

"Hi, love, a quick one for you. Can you have Barry around on the Green tomorrow at 3:50?"

"Yes, is everything alright?"

"Yes, but I'm hoping it might be even better."

"Grand, I'll have his father drop him around, I won't be home until after 5:00."

"You're a star, Eva, I love you," I said, and we hung up.

I called Franner, Brenda Keane and three others, asking the same thing with their kids. I sat back and sketched out a couple of basic offside variances to work on. We didn't have much time, but if I even got one running smoothly, it'd be fantastic.

I was on the Green the next afternoon at 3:00. I had a sweeping brush with a stock paintbrush taped to it by its handle. It was, effectively, a six-foot-long paint brush. I also had a small basin of water and builder's lime mixed to a loose consistency. I pegged an orange line across the width of the pitch and painted the lime and water solution onto the grass and along the line. I was just finished when Billy crept up behind me and scared me shitless.

"What the fuck are you at?" he said.

"Fuck you, Billy, you put the heart crossways in me."

"What's all this for?"

"I'm striking a white line across the pitch," I said, "Can you not tell? I thought you were a painter."

"I don't fucking paint grass."

"Look at that," I said, throwing my eye along the line, "that should be in a fucking art gallery."

"Yes, it's a nice line alright, I hope it doesn't rain in the next hour or it'll be gone," he said, "did you put a drop of Weedol in it?"

"No, I'm a member of the ISPCW."

"What's that when it’s at home?"

"The Irish Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Weeds."

"Right, in the absence of a bit of intelligent conversation, I'm going home to talk to my wife. She only grunts at me."

"She's probably having an orgasm just looking at you sneaking around the place in that hat."

"I must remember to put that on her Christmas card."

"Can you write?"

"It doesn't matter, because she can't read."

"But she can call you a bollox."

"She can and she does."

"And she's probably right too."

I walked back to the house and washed the basin out while a pot of espresso gurgled on the stove. I then took a few waffles and a couple of chicken burgers that Charlie liked, out to defrost in the microwave. They were due home from school, and I needed to have some food ready for them. I was just finishing it off as they bounced through the door.

“I’m not going up to Kilmore to that match tonight,” Charlie shouted as she walked in.

“Ok.”

She stopped in her tracks. The look on her face read, ‘That was easy.’ Then she thought about it for a second.

Gary came running in, shouting as he did so.

“Dad, there’s a white line right across the green.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What’s it for?”

“Robbie Fowler is coming over tomorrow, and I thought it might make him feel at home.”

“Robbie Fowler? Really?”

“No, he’s a prick. I need you out there at 4:00 to help me with a drill.”

“Ok, what’s the drill?”

“I’ll show you at 4:00.”

“Is the match off tonight?”

“No. Now eat that, the pair of you, then you can do your homework. It turns out I have more time on my hands than I expected.”

“Why?” Charlie asked.

“I had planned on bringing you up to get you a phone, but you’ve obviously changed your mind about it.”

“I haven’t!”

I cut one of the chicken burgers in half and stuck it in my mouth. It wasn’t bad.

“Really? So, even though you came in laying down the law about what you are and what you're not going to do tonight, you still expect to get a phone?”

I shook my head in silence as I chewed on the burger. She was quiet for a while.

“Ok, I’ll go to the match.”

“Oh, you were never not going to the match, Charlie baby, but you’ll be going to the match this time, without a phone.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t think that getting a phone depends on everything I say,” she said.

“And do,” I said, “this phone comes with two contracts, Charlie.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are two contracts involved,” I said, “the one I sign to get you the phone, and the one we agree about your behaviour afterwards.”

“So, what happens if I do something wrong by accident?”

“I think you know the answer to that already. Mobile phones are for adults and adults know that there are consequences to everything. Good and bad.”

She fumed silently as we finished our food, then flounced up the stairs to her homework and change out of her uniform. Gary just stared at me.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he said, and grabbed his school bag.

There was a knock on the door, it was a chap called, Mike Eames, an old school friend and teammate of mine at Home Farm. I called Charlie down. She descended the stairs slowly. She had a sullen look on her face.

"Charlie, get that look of your face now," I said, "there's a man here to see you."

"Who is he?"

"This, my lovely baby girl, is Mick Eames, an old friend of mine and owner of the Digimax Phone shop in Fairview."

She tried not to smile as Mick extended his hand to shake hers. He had a bag in his hand, and we all went into the kitchen, where he placed the bag on the table. Charlie scampered up onto a chair, her arms resting on the tabletop and her hands joined as if in prayer. She watched him with wide eyed wonder as he took four brand new Nokia mobile phones out of the bag, one in every colour in the range. She looked from the phones, to Mick, to me.

"Pick one," I said, "Mick brought them down to you because I don't have time today."

She chose a red one because it was closest to her favourite colour, pink. I smiled at her joy and stifled a tear at what we had put her and Gary through.

"I always knew you were a closet United fan, like your wonderful father."

She looked at me and thought better of the smart Alec remark she was about to make. I left the two of them alone to finish the deal and the demonstration of the phone and took three footballs out of the training bag. I went into the front room and picked over some fluff and dust that had embedded itself in my boots and I was about to start cleaning them when she came in and sat on my lap, her phone held like a bar of gold in her little hand. She said nothing, but her head was down as she typed something into the keyboard. My phone sounded a text. From Charlie.

"You're the best Dad in the world. I love you, Thanks so mich."

Your daughter,

Charlotte Caldwell."

I smiled as I read the text.

She was still sitting on my lap.

"You're the best daughter anyone ever had, I love you more.

I assume you meant to type 'much' and not mich?"

Am I not getting a kiss?

Your father,

Derek Caldwell."

She hugged me and kissed me and ran upstairs to annoy her friends. I left the house at 3:40. Gary was already out there with Robbie, Gavin, and Graham. I could see Barry walking along the road beside Mousey. Franner pulled up alongside as Pat arrived with his wife, Eileen, and young Joe. Graham was over to me like a snot.

"Is Joe Dawson going to play for us?"

"I don't know, Graham," I said, "I'll tell you in fifteen minutes."

"He's a sprinter, I didn't know he played football.

"See? You don't know everything after all. I'm disappointed."

"Who's the captain?"

"I hadn't thought of that, Graham," I said, "I'll tell you that in sixteen minutes time."

"Can I be captain?"

"I don't think it'll suit you."

"Why not?"

"You're one of the best players on the team, I need you to be focused on your own game and not be distracted by what everyone else is doing wrong. Besides, the captain is never the best player on the team."

"Is it not?"

"No, who's the captain of Ireland?"

"Mick McCarthy."

"Who's the best player on the team?"

"Liam Brady."

"See?"

Franner walked up behind me.

"You're a fucker. I thought that was gonna start a row tonight. He's been at me all day."

"Do you think he should be captain?"

"No, I agree with your thinking, but who is it going to be?"

"You're worse than your son," I said, and we burst out laughing, "I'm thinking young Robbie, what do you think?"

"Yeah, he's a good lad. Intelligent little player. Good call."

When everyone was assembled and ready to go, I called them into a little huddle.

"Ok, lads, this is a quick, fifteen-minute drill to show you how to beat an offside trap. I'm not going to elaborate too much, just to say that if you're behind the last defender in their half of the pitch when the ball is played through, you're offside. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, Derek, we know what offside is," Graham said.

"Is that why you kept getting caught last night?"

He smiled and went beet red.

"Does anyone know what’s green and flies faster than the Concorde?"

Nobody did.

"A supersonic snot," I said, and put my hand on Joe Dawson's shoulder, "Joe here, is faster than that, he's our hypersonic snot."

"What's the line for, Derek?" Robbie said.

"It's to represent the halfway line on a pitch, Rob," I said, "I need Barry, Gavin and Gary to stand on that line facing this way."

They took their positions.

"Ok, you three are the Kilmore defenders, yes?"

"Yes."

"Teams with no talent, like Kilmore," I said, "tend to use this formation to hold a high line in order to catch opposing attackers to run an offside defence. It's very effective, but not that hard to beat."

"Why are they on the halfway line?" Robbie asked.

"Because beyond the halfway line is their own half," I said, "it gives them fifty odd yards to catch anyone that gets through. They'll find it impossible to catch the fastest eight-year-old this side of Manchester."

"Who's that?" Barry asked.

"Joe here. Do you see those two cones back there? They're fifty yards away from this line, that's the Kilmore goals. Joe, I want you to pull out to halfway between the centre spot and the side line and, whatever you do, do not cross it until one of these three play the ball through, ok?"

Joe nodded his head and jumped up and down.

"The minute that ball is played through, you get after it, control it and bang it into the goals."

"Ok, Derek."

"The three Kilmore defenders", I said, pointing at Barry, Gavin and Gary, "you have to track the ball and win it back before Joe gets a chance to score. Graham, you run along beside him in support, in case he needs to pass it to someone. But do not make that run until Joe is already on his way. Are we clear on that?"

They all seemed happy.

I threw the ball ten yards over Robbie's head. He trapped it, turned and took it forward five yards. He stopped and looked at me.

"Where do I pass it to, Derek?" he said.

"You pass it over the centre spot, over the defenders' heads, aiming to land it halfway into their half of the pitch. You know that Joe is on this side, right? So, favour that side of the pitch slightly."

I took the ball and repeated the throw. Robbie trapped it again, turned and hit a peach of a ball over the heads with his left foot. It curled delicately and landed in a perfect spot on the grass. Joe was already on it before it landed. His first touch took the ball fifteen feet ahead of him, but it didn't matter because there was nobody to intercept it. Graham ran along about ten yards to the side of him and ten yards behind him. He was screaming for the ball and Joe, rolled it perfectly into his stride for Graham to bang the ball in the goals, with the defenders nowhere in sight. It was only at that moment that I realised we had drawn a large crowd of spectators when they all cheered and clapped the boys.

"Ok lads, we're going to do that again."

"I pulled Graham and Joe over to me and said,

"Ok lads, this time we do the exact same thing, except you don't pass it to Graham, Joe, you'll take it in and score yourself."

"Why?" Graham asked.

"Because the defenders are expecting him to pass it to you and they'll follow you, instead of Joe."

"Oh, good idea, Derek," he said.

High praise indeed.

We had the same result except Joe, less nervous now, took the ball in and scored, as Graham slagged Barry and Gavin off for swallowing the bait.

I called them in again.

"Ok, that was brilliant, lads. There's one more easy one that I can show you. You can’t be offside in your own half of the pitch, ok?"

"Yes, Derek, you told us this fifty times," Gavin said.

"Shut up, Gavin. You're the very one who'll fuck this up tonight and I'll have to burst you if you do."

"Sorry, Derek."

"So, knowing that you can’t be offside in your own half, if you have the ball at your feet in this area, five yards in front of the last man, it's easy enough to either carry the ball through them, or hit a shotgun pass through them and chase it down yourself. So, let's set that up. Graham, this is yours. Barry, Gavin, and Gary, I want you to stop this being a goal. Joe, you run level with Graham in case he needs to pass it, Robbie you run a little behind in case it breaks to you."

I threw the ball to Graham, ten yards short of the line. He took it and moved it slightly in front of him, Gary aimed a tackle at him, but he rode it easily and carried the ball into the other half. He was closely followed by Barry and Gavin, but he shouted at Joe to make the run and hit a pass about fifteen feet in front for him to run on to. Graham kept running and Joe hit it first time onto Graham's head, and he headed it into the goals. I was very pleased, and we wrapped it up then.

I sat on the ground and took my boots off, replacing them with a pair of trainers. Mousey came and stood over me.

"That was great, Del," he said.

"Yeah, it went well."

"Have you talked to Eva yet?"

"I rang her yesterday to get Barry around, apart from that, no."

"Are you going to?"

"For fuck's sake, Michael, what do you expect of me? I already told you my thoughts, let's leave it there."

"She saw a solicitor today about a divorce."

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

“That’ll fuck me up.”

"Why don't you try and make another go of it?"

"Of what? Marriage?"

"Yes."

"No, that's well dead. She won't entertain it either."

"So maybe it's time to face the divorce thing down. You can't stay like this forever, Michael."

"But a fucking solicitor. Del. That's money."

“If that’s your only concern, I have a solution that worked for me.”

“What?”

“I used DIY divorce. It only cost €150 plus filing fees. It didn’t even cost €500.”

“What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch, once all of the custody, property and financials are agreed and in place.”

He mused on it as I gathered my stuff.

“What do we do with that?”

“That’s between you two. We took everything into consideration, thrashed out an equitable agreement, wrote it down and brought it to a Notary. He stamped it and DIY Divorce did the rest.”

“How did your ex take that?” he asked.

“She was fucking anything that moved so I had her by the balls. It took a little time, but I had the upper hand and held my ground.”

“We don’t have loads of money, Del. There’s just the house.”

“The court will consider the children, Michael. If you say or do anything negative, they won’t look kindly on it. It’s not about the house, it’s mostly about the kids and the kids live in the house. It’s their fucking home.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course, but I was hoping to come out of this with a few shillings in my back pocket, Del,” he said, “you know what I mean.”

“I’ll give you something to hang on to, Michael,” I said, “nobody wins a divorce, if you can come out the other side without going insane, that’s your win.”

“You kept your house, though, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I bought the thing before I met that tramp. I still had to pay her a few bob to get rid of her but it wasn’t onerous.”

“So, I could buy Eva out of the house?”

“You could try that, I suppose.”

“You don’t sound convinced,” he said.

“The judge will tell you to fuck off, Michael. The kids stay with the mother, that’s the way it is, and the kids need a home,” I said. “I’d let Eva buy you out of the house, if you want my opinion.”

“How much did you have to pay?”

“Not much, overall. It was market value less the outstanding mortgage and I paid her one third of that because I had bought it myself.”

“Would that work for me?”

“You’d probably get a little more if you have shared ownership. Provided she agrees of course. You’d also have to pay maintenance for the kids.”

“Do you have that too?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck. Do you pay it?”

“Of course, I do,” I said, “they’re my kids too.”

“You might have a point, Del,” he said, “maybe I should talk to her about it.”

“Talk to DIY Divorce first, in case I said something that’s not accurate.”

“I’ll call them tomorrow. Thanks, Del. I’ll see you at the match if I can make it.”

I called Eva, she was on her way home from work. I told her about my conversation, just in case Mousey tried to blindside her. We agreed to play it by ear for now.

With the kick-off set for 6:00, we had to cobble together an inventive transport solution. I would take six in my car, Franner would take eight or ten in his van and Robbie's dad, Derek, would take the rest. As we distributed the players into the vehicles, Angela felt entitled to a lift in one of them too. I asked her nicely to fuck off and she had to walk up to the pitch. When my battalion was in place and loaded in, I took off. I needed to be there a few minutes before everyone else.

As I drove along Adare Road, I spotted Eva and Alice walking along the path. I pulled in and opened the door for them. Eva jumped in the front beside me and picked Graham and Robbie up onto her lap while Alice climbed in beside her brother, Barry, in the back. Everyone was silent in the car, possibly due to nerves, so Eva began kissing Graham just to annoy him. It broke the tension as everyone slagged Graham off, including Robbie, who was subjected to a big hug from her. I began to resent Robbie.

We arrived at the pitch on the side of the Oscar Traynor Road at 5:15, plenty of time to nosey around. I took the kit bag and a couple of balls out with me and dropped them on the sideline. Robbie and Joe Dawson ran along beside me as I walked out onto the pitch. They were messing around and annoying me until I told them to get back to the line. I needed this solitude; it was one of my pre-match customs. I needed to breathe the air and fill my lungs with the smell of the freshly mowed grass. It was a beautiful flat surface and the evening sun shone brightly through a pale glow of yellow. The lines were white and crisp, if a little crooked, but the atmosphere in my head evoked Old Trafford on a European Cup night.

With my hands in my pockets, I returned to the sideline and pulled my boots on. The boys stood around Eva and watched me closely. I stood and walked to the halfway line, watching the behaviour of the opposition, and assessing their size and strength. They weren't any bigger than us and I convinced myself that only about half of them were under nine. There didn't appear to be any obvious bangers, as over-age players were called, so I felt confident and began to relax. Franner appeared beside me.

"What do you think, boss?" he said.

I smiled at him.

"Ah yeah, all of a sudden I'm the boss?"

He inclined his head at a large cohort of females standing on the sideline or sitting right beside it.

"They're not here to see me, Del."

"Well, maybe we should give them something to cheer about."

"What have you got in mind?"

"Back in the day, I’d go out with a couple of balls and a teammate and we’d bang a few against the crossbar or, if Shankly wasn't around, we'd practice a few bicycle kicks or flying volleys."

"Fancy having a go?"

"Sure, a fiver for either top corner?"

"As if you can still do that."

"You ping them in and I'll see if it's still there."

I took up a position just outside the penalty area, dead centre of the goals. Franner went right hand side with two footballs. I held my hand up at a little higher than waist height, indicating where I wanted it placed. Out of the corner of my eye I caught everyone watching with interest to see the mental case in action. Eva was biting her fingernails and Gary was giving everyone a commentary. This was something I did with him whenever we got a chance.

As Franner began his run up I couldn't hear a thing. I was focused on the ball, the goals, and my position on the pitch. The ball left his foot and appeared to travel towards me in slow motion. It was a little higher than I requested but I knew I could make it work. I launched myself sideways into the air and caught it perfectly on my right instep. I didn't need to look; I knew it was top right corner. As I landed on my side, I watched the final journey of the ball as it zipped between the angle of upright and crossbar, hit the net and rippled beautifully on to the ground, nestling in the corner of the net. I laid flat on my back and felt the stirrings of an erection. It was actually better than sex.

Gary and the boys ran out and jumped on me, Eva cheered on the line and the assembled females screamed as though I was John Lennon waving from a plane. It was nirvana. I cleared the pitch and asked for another, this time from the centre circle. I held my hand up about six inches above my head and directly in line with my forehead. Franner made a hash of the first one but the second one was perfect. It travelled in a sensuous arc, a little left to right but at a perfect height.

I took a short step to my left and launched myself in the air, this time aiming to allow my body fall backwards as I descended. The ball called to me, and I connected with it. It wasn't as perfect a strike as the first one, but it was sufficient to tell me that it was in the same corner. I was turning as I fell so I could watch the finish as I landed on my side, my hip taking the brunt of the impact as the ball sailed gracefully into the same corner of the goals, if a little further towards the middle than the first.

I stayed on the ground for a brief second, inhaling the atmosphere and the feeling. I heard nothing except the buzzing in my ears. I felt the tears before I knew they were coming. It was an emotional moment. My parents were on the line with Eva and my mother was as emotional as I was as she hugged Eva tightly. I held my fist up to my dad and he replied in kind, a wide smile on his face. Gary and Charlie came over to me and walked me back to the line by the hand until I bent and lifted my little girl and carried her like a trophy I'd just been handed. Eva and my mother were crying, and I didn't know why until they hugged me.

"Be careful, babe, don't let Michael get too suspicious."

"Fuck him, Derek, this is one of our moments."

Franner was laughing and shaking his head as he walked over,

"You owe me a tenner, pal." I said.

"I'll pay you on the thirtieth of February."

Having indulged myself enough I gathered the kids around me and Franner began distributing jerseys as I called out the team.

"Eric, in goal," I said to concerted mutterings.

"Simon, Willy, Barry Clery and Tommo, back four"

"Tyrreler, Robbie, Graham and Gavin, midfield."

"Joe Dawson, Barry Carney, up top."

The lads stripped and got ready for action. I walked away to talk to Christy Beasley, our referee for the evening. We shook hands.

"Long time no see, Del," he said, "how's the body?"

"Alright, Beaso?" I said, "still trying to play ball, are you?

"I'm a full-time referee now, Del," he said, showing me his FAI crest.

"Those who can play; play the game, those who can't play; referee the game."

"It's good to see you're still a cunt, Del," he said with a laugh.

"Yeah, but be careful out there tonight, Beaso, one of our parents is a referee inspector. I hope you can referee better than you could play. We wouldn't like you to lose that lovely new badge you have on your jersey, would we?"

He turned away but I knew he was going to screw us in any way he could. As I returned to the side-line, I saw Angela and Harry Bolton waiting for me.

"Alright lads?" I said.

"No, we're not alright, Derek," Harry said, "why is Tony on the line?"

"I didn't like his attitude last night, Harry."

"His attitude? What attitude?"

"He was arrogant, dismissive and he walked around the pitch as though he fucking owned it," I said, "if he wants to play, he'll need to put a shift in at training, just like the others do."

"I can bring him down to Belvedere, Derek."

"Don't let me stop you, Harry, if that's your wish," I said, "but they won't even let him travel to a game if he carries on like that with them."

"Will he be getting a game at some stage?"

"Yes, I'll give him plenty of time to impress me, and you can tell him that if you wish."

"Ok, sorry, Derek. I did notice his attitude last night and I did have a word with him about it."

"No problem, Harry. I think he's a big addition to the team," I said, "but it has to be on my terms, and I hope that when he does come on, he hacks up."

"Can I ask why Jason isn't playing, Derek, please?" Angela asked, nicely.

"Yes, you can." I said.

She looked at me and then at the line. She looked at me again.

"Why isn't he playing?"

"I didn't pick him, Angela, it’s that simple."

"Why?"

"I told Harry why I didn't pick Tony, so I'll tell you the same thing," I said, "but I want it clear that I will not make a habit of this."

She looked at me again.

"And?" she said.

"Have I made myself clear or not?"

"Yes."

"I'm trying a few things tonight, Angela," I said, "I saw Eric in training, and he did a lot better than Jason."

"But Jason has been there from the beginning."

"So has Eric."

"I know but,"

"Angela, nobody has a right to play. My son is on the line too, and he's a better player than Jason, but I had to suck it up and do the right thing for the sake of the team."

I walked away and met the manager of the Kilmore team. We shook hands,

"James Marshall, Derek, nice to meet you."

"Same here, James, I'm looking forward to this."

"Is this the first game for them?"

"Yes, they're an under eight side, but I was interested to see how they rate."

"They'll be grand, I know a few of them."

"Hopefully, can we make unlimited substitutions, James? To give them all a game."

"Of course, Derek, I'll tell the ref."

"Great, you've done a great job on the pitch, fair play to you."

"Thanks, I saw you in action a few minutes ago. Impressive."

"Thanks, it was something I used use as a warm-up, back in the day."

"You never lost it," he said, "would you be interested in playing for our senior team?"

"No, I don't have the time and my knee won't allow me. I’d have to be regraded anyway.”

"Ok, well we'd better get this started," he said, and jogged away.

I pulled the lads in around me and waited until I had their attention.

"Ok, lads, this is the one, the first game we play together as a team. You'll all grow to be great players; I'm convinced of that, and you'll have many memories of your time playing football. Whether you win or lose, those memories will keep you warm as you grow older, but it all starts here. Win or lose, it doesn't matter. It's only a friendly. But if you lose, I will personally kill you all."

They all laughed. Beaso blew the whistle to get them on the pitch.

"I need you all to remember something," I said."

"Derek, the ref is calling us," Robbie said.

"Fuck him, Robbie. I need you to remember that you have been selected to play for this team by me. I also need you to remember how we play the game. We don't create systems of play for you to walk out there and promptly forget everything. You're all playing for your place in the team, so go out and play to your potential. If you do, it should be enough for this shower. As long as you don't give up, I'm happy, now go out there and have as much fun as it's possible to have, by hammering the shit out of an inferior team."

They ran on to the pitch and it felt as if it were my children leaving home. I picked up my book and a rain jacket and began to walk to the other side of the pitch. Franner came after me.

"Where are you going?"

"Over here," I said.

"You can’t. That’s not our line."

"Why not?"

"Hah, I don't fucking know."

"You stay this side and I'll go to the other side and annoy the shit out of them. Keep your phone on in case we need to make changes."

He shook his head from side to side.

"You're either a genius or a madman."

"They say it's a fine line, Franner," I said, "good luck."

"We're gonna need it, Del."

I smiled at him but, looking at the other team as I walked slowly through them on my way across the pitch, I was quietly confident. Each and every one of their players watched me like hawks as I made the interminable walk through them. I saw the same fear in their eyes as I did when I was strolling up to take the decisive penalty in an FA Youth Cup semi-final against United. They knew I wasn't going to miss then, and Kilmore knew they were about to be in a game. When I reached the other line, I smiled at everyone I encountered. A few smiled back, some shook my hand and others ignored me. It didn't matter, we all hated each other in any case.

As the ref prepared to start the game, I clapped my hands together loudly.

"Alright lads, these don't look much cop, let's get it going."

Barry Cooney kicked it off with a touch to his left. Joe Dawson turned and passed it out of the centre circle to Robbie and I shouted at Joe to pull out wide as Robbie hit a long, low ball out to his left for the oncoming Gavin Shean to run on to. Gavin controlled it on the fly and carried it towards the right full that was struggling to meet the pitch of the ball. Gavin slipped it inside to Graham Dempsey. Graham flicked it between the two Kilmore central defenders and powered them aside as he ran through and between them. I looked at Beaso, who was looking at him hard, but he let it go. The Kilmore 'keeper was off his line in a flash, but Graham was cuter as he slipped a peach of a pass inside for Barry Cooney to bury in the back of the net. It was a joy to behold.

That boosted our confidence and we opened the play up, playing expansive football that surprised me greatly. Joe and Barry had been caught offside a few times and Joe's speed was nullified by the deep line employed by the Kilmore players. I didn't believe that this was a tactic, I could see by their set-up that they really hadn't much of a clue about formative strategies. That was the manager's fault, not the players, but we had an opportunity to exploit this deficiency. I rang Franner and told him to get Tony Bolton warmed up, but to send him over to me first. When Tony arrived beside me, I took him to one side. He was wide eyed and a little red in the face.

"Tony, these haven't a clue about defending or marking. I want you to stay in beside Barry and the two of you drag those defenders out of the way so that Graham can fill the spaces. You need to be alert and you need to be vocal. If I don't hear you shouting for the ball ..."

"I know, I didn't say it."

"Good boy, now get out there and fill your boots, there's at least eight goals in this game for you."

I called the substitution and Beaso blew his whistle to stop the game. He ran over to me.

"You can't make a substitution from there. You have to do it from your own side."

"Seriously, Beaso?"

"You know the rules, Wonderboy."

I knew he was trying to wind me up, so I ignored it. Instead, I walked across the pitch with Tony beside me and called Joe to take him off.

"You can't do that either," he said.

"It's a fucking friendly, you prick!" I said.

"You still can't do it, Wonderboy."

I bit my tongue. I told Joe to walk about two yards back on to the pitch. He looked at me as if I had gone mad. I then called him off immediately and pushed Tony on in his place.

"The player being substituted must leave the pitch from where he was when the substitution was called," Beaso said pompously.

"Does it say that in the rule book?"

"Yes."

"Show me, then."

"I don't have to."

I called Gerry Ellis over. Gerry was the President of the Irish Referees Association. He was also Graham Dempsey's grandfather.

"Is that right, Gerry?"

"No, you're talking bollox, Christopher," he said.

Beaso went puce in the face. I smiled at him.

"I'll allow it this time," he said, and we did the swap.

He whistled for the game to begin but I had already started walking back over to the other line. On my way, I stopped to talk to Graham and Robbie.

“Ok, lads, Tony is going up top with Barry. Watch for his movement and if the defenders follow him. If they do, you go for goal every time. If they don’t, you must find Tony or Barry with the ball. Remember, follow your passes too.”

They were silent as I spoke but had a look of determination about them too. I continued my walk to the line as the whistle blew to resume play. The game restarted with a throw-in to Kilmore and Tyrreler quickly dispossessed the Kilmore player of the ball. He took it forward a few yards and played it in to Graham, who had made a diagonal run towards the corner of the box, when I told him what was on. I pointed at the space behind him and Tony ran onto it quickly. Nobody followed him.

“Let him in, Graham!” I shouted.

He took a quick scan of the area and rolled it into Tony’s path. It didn’t take much for him to bang it into the net. 2-0. We continued to play them off the park and at half time the score was 3-0 following a headed goal by Graham. Tony and Barry were causing insurmountable problems for the Kilmore defence, so I decided to crank it up a notch by pushing Barry Clery into the centre of midfield and Graham further up the pitch to occupy a position between midfield and attack.

Halfway through the second half we were 5-0 up with goals by Gary and Clint Fox as I used up the players on the sideline and Beaso blew it up once the fifth goal went in. There was no point in crushing the opposition’s spirit. Everyone shook hands and left the field. I acknowledged everyone on the Kilmore line and joined my team. Beaso came over and we shook hands.

“Sorry about that earlier, Del,” he said, “that’s a good little side you have there.”

“Yes, I’m very pleased with them,” I said, “if only they stayed onside.”

“Yes, it’s a problem at that age.”

“I seem to remember you having the same problem with offside.”

“No, I played centre half, if you remember.”

“I wasn’t talking about when we were kids, Beaso,” I said, and left him on the pitch.

As I walked away, Eva came running over to me. She had a huge smile on her face.

“I don’t think the referee likes you, Derek,” she said with a grin.

“The feeling is mutual, love. Was Michael a no show?”

“No sign of him, but I don’t care.”

 At 7:55 I pulled up at the corner of Eva’s Road and dropped her and the kids off. I then threw the rest of them out at the Green and brought mine home. They had taken a bath and were shining like new pins when I heard a knock at the door. It was Billy.

“I believe we’ve a good team?” he said.

“Yes, it was fine. Kilmore were a disaster, but I’ll take the win.”

“Great, well I was passing so I just dropped in,” he said, “I’ve a meeting tonight if you’re up for it.”

“I have the kids, Billy, but I would if I hadn’t,” I said, “are you ok?”

“Ah, I’ll be fine.”

“Come in, I’ll make you a coffee.”

“I’ll make my own, you nearly poisoned me last time. Fuckin’ espressos. Did Liam get a few minutes?”

“Most of the second half. He did very well.”

“How’s Eva?”

“Billy, what’s wrong? You’re all over the place.”

“I’m just a bit unsettled, that’s all,” he said, “I’m having one of my days.”

“Let’s have our own meeting,” I said.

He smiled at me.

“Good idea, make two espressos,” he said, “and make one for yourself while you’re at it.”

He left an hour later in better spirits. I checked to see where the kids were, and they were asleep. It was after ten, so I retired to my music room and stuck on a bit of Brian Kennedy. My text lit up.

“Hey superstar, I love you. Can you talk?”

I called her.

“Yes, I’ve nearly mastered the talking thing. Can you?”

“Yes, I’m good. I’ve a question.”

“Yes, I would.”

“I know you would, but would you tonight?”

“I’m very interested now.”

“My sister’s taking Alice and Barry into town early in the morning so they’re staying at hers, is it ok to drop around for an hour?”

“Yes, please.”

“What’s playing?”

“Brian Kennedy.”

“Who?”

“Hurry around, you’ll love it.”

“Tell me a few of the words first.”

“Ok, there’s so many, but you might like the one I’m playing now,” I said as I held the phone near a speaker.

The phone went dead. I laughed to myself; she was such a girl. I put the door on the latch. I cued up the stylus and sat in my chair. I didn’t have to wait long. She pushed the door open and walked, breathlessly, into the room.

“Shall I?” I said, my hand hovering above the lever.

“It’s not necessary, but yes please,” she said, as she came and sat on my lap.

“Can you stay over?” I asked.

“I shouldn’t,” she said, “not with the kids here.”

She kissed me then, a deeply soulful kiss.

“You were wonderful with the team tonight, love,” she whispered.

“They were very good, Eva,” I said, “I think the other team were flattered by the score line.”

“Even your female admirers came out,” she said.”

“The only female admirer I want with me is sitting in my lap right now.”

She slid off my lap and caressed my growing erection, easing it out of my tracksuit bottoms and removing the garment completely.

“I need this,” she whispered as her lips hovered above the tip of my penis. Her tongue slid menacingly around the perimeter and her hand took a firmer grip on the shaft. Slowly and seductively, she took me deep inside her mouth and held me there, her tongue actively encompassing the rim, pushing my arousal higher and enticing an orgasm from my tortured soul.

I moved her head slightly and held her to prevent an early finish. I knew it couldn’t last as long as it usually did, but this was not where I wanted my semen to discharge. I yearned for the joy of completion as part of a union of our bodies and souls. I needed her to feel my love and the fruits of our communion filling her vagina as we moved deliciously together in an act of love, passion, and ecstasy.

I lifted her by the arms and held her tightly as she kissed me fleetingly and completely covered me with soft, moist kisses. I lifted her shirt over her head as she unzipped her skirt and dropped it on the floor. Her soft skin melted into my hands as I reacquainted myself with her naked body and her lace underwear.

Her bra opened with a whisper, and she released it quickly as she pulled my tee shirt over my head. I quickly knelt before her and she laid back in ardent expectation, swiftly sliding a black lace thong down over her legs as I moved her knees apart to taste her and once again immerse myself in her scent and aura.

She cried out as my tongue descended to the lips of her labia. She groaned loudly as my thumbs slowly parted them to allow my tongue access deeper inside her. She was beautiful and sensuous, and her hips moved in unison with my tongue and lips. Her hips rose and fell, undulating gently in time with the tempo I had set. Her stomach muscles clenched as she took my hand and squeezed it tightly, as though holding on for dear life.

I enveloped her in my arms as I felt her take the first sweet steps to her climax, her breath becoming sharper and her sighs becoming higher in pitch. I held her closely, as though trying to crawl inside her, to join her truly as one entity.

“I’m gonna come, Derek,” she breathed in my ear as she clutched my shoulders to her breasts.

My penis found her vagina and slid seductively inside her. As it reached the midpoint of its length, I felt a desperate series of rhythmic and erratic pulses as she began to reach a higher place. I bottomed out and held steady as she gripped me with her vaginal muscles, her head and neck manically swivelling in agonised arousal and orgasmic release. We were impossibly tight together as her entire body shook and a large release of ejaculatory fluid flowed from within.

“Christ, help me,” she breathed sharply, “I love you so much, Derek.”

She stayed with me during her withdrawal and took my ear between her teeth, nuzzling it gently and whispering words of love and desire.

“Come for me, Derek, I need to feel you. I need your come inside me.”

As her vagina slowly released me I began minute movements inside her, extending the length of my slow thrusts incrementally until each one was the full length of my penis, She cried out again as she detected the onset of my journey to orgasm and, when it hit, it brought a further climax from her, one which caused a mini seizure of sorts in her as her limbs became uncontrollable along with a low moan as her senses became overtaken by her need.

We laid in place for a long time, catching our breath and enjoying each other’s touch, luxuriating in the film of perspiration that covered both our skin surfaces.

“I love you, Eva,” I whispered in her ear.

“I know, Derek, I surely know,” she said, and we held each other in the darkness.

 I woke in my seat at 5:00. I was alone. Eva’s thong was wrapped around my hand. I brought it to my nose, and she was with me again. I picked up my phone, still half asleep. There was a text from her, timed at 1:55

“Thank you for a beautiful evening and night. I didn’t want to wake you, so I left a reminder of me. I love you without end, soon we won’t be parted.

Love

Your Eva.

XXX”

I struggled up to bed and woke, groggily, at 8:00. I got the kids out to the bus and watched as they sauntered down the path, I called Charlie, she looked at me with a narky stare. I leaned against the door frame and said nothing as I waited for her to return. She stomped towards me in fury.

“Did you charge your phone last night?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Let me see.”

She took it out of her pocket and handed it to me. I checked the charge indicator.

“Good girl, but why were you carrying it in your pocket?”

“I can’t keep it in my bag in case it breaks,” she said.

“I understand the reason for it, I don’t understand the why of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“We agreed that you wouldn’t bring it into school with you,” I said. “Didn’t I?”

“You agreed, I didn’t.”

“Ok, when I said we agreed, I meant you were told not to bring it to school.”

She looked at me with daggers drawn.

“I’ll let it go this time,” I said, “if it happens again, you lose the phone, agreed?”

“Yes,” she said, and flounced down the path to the bus.

I quickly locked up the house and jumped in the car, I was dead late for work. A I drove past the church I saw Eva scuttling along the footpath. I rolled down the window and pulled in beside her.

“Hey gorgeous, any chance of a kiss? I asked.

She smiled and leapt over to the passenger door and sat in beside me. She kissed me sweetly on the lips with a sigh and a beautiful smile.

“A kiss for a lift to work, now that’s what I call a good deal,” she said.

“Do you make it a habit of leaving your underwear strewn around the houses of the neighbourhood or am I just special?”

“You’re very special, Derek,” she said, “did you enjoy them?”

“Very much so, love. You know I’m keeping them, though, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m going to have to think of a way to get my knickers off you.”

“You’re welcome to try,” I said.

“If you’re very good and pick me up at 4:00, I might let you see what I’m wearing this morning,” she said. “It’s a celebratory thong. I might even let you take it off me.”

She squeezed my thigh, and I felt a faint movement in my penis.

“I’m ok, Eva thanks. That wouldn’t bother me, but I’ll be here at 3:45 just in case you decide to change your mind.”

We reached the door of her job, and she opened the door handle. She leaned back in and kissed me again.

“Be careful you don’t get your new underwear wet, love, you might catch cold.”

“I’m breaking these in for Friday night, my beautiful man,” she said, “the thoughts of that will keep me hot.”

“Unlike your thong,” I said, now sporting a full blown erection.

She leaned over and kissed me.

“Did I do that, love?” she said, inclining her head downward.

“Eva, you do that to me without even trying.”

She giggled as she opened the door.

“I’ll see you later, love,” she said, and went to work.

As I drove out the gate my phone rang. It was Paddy.

“Mr. B,” I said, “five nil, what d’you think?

“Morning Derek, Billy told me, I’d forgotten about it. Good game?”

“For us at least, what d’you need?”

“The Chairman wants his son to play ball and he qualifies to play for your team.”

“Billy has an eight year old son?”

“The Chairman of the club, Barry Scanlon.”

“Tell him to send him down on Tuesday and I’ll have a look at him.”

“That’s not all, he wants to be one of the team managers.”

“Fuck off.”

“You can’t make it up, Derek.”

“Barry Scanlon, who spent his youth hanging around the streets beating people up, simply because they were on the same side of the road?”

“Yes.”

“But he’s never kicked a ball in his life, Paddy.”

“I know.”

“Tell him to fuck off.”

“I can’t, Derek.”

“Ok, well tell him to call me. I’ll fucking tell him.”

“He’s the Chairman, Derek. He can do this if he feels like it.”

“No he can’t, Paddy. He’s a convicted criminal. No children’s club worth the name would allow a thug like him near it. It’s bad enough that he’s the Chairman, but he can’t be around children.”

“Look, I know him. He’ll come down for a few nights, get bored and disappear.”

“You’re not listening, Paddy, I’ll pull the team.”

“You can’t.”

“I’ve already been approached by Shelbourne, I’ll bring them down there”

“They’re our players, Derek.”

“Paddy, Gary is my son. He’ll play where I let him play, and most of the other parents will feel the same.”

“They’ll have to be transferred, Derek, and we won’t sign the forms. They can’t play anywhere else.”

“Is that a league rule or are you making it up?”

“It’s a league rule.”

“Have you actually read the league rules?”

“Well, ehm, I’ve skipped through them.”

“If you had actually read the rules, Paddy, like I have, you would have read the bit where they say that it’s the parents who ultimately decide on matters concerning the health and welfare of their own children. That supersedes all league rules.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I doubt I could make it any clearer, Paddy, but Barry Scanlon can fuck off.”

“Can you not just let him do a few weeks?”

“That’s your call, Paddy, but if he does, it’ll just be him and his son there. We’ll all be down in Tolka Park playing for Shels.”

“This is going a start a war. Will you talk to him?”

“Tell him I’ll meet him between 6:00 and 6:30 for ten minutes, after work. Something else that parasitic cunt has never done. If work was in bed, he’d sleep on the floor.”

We hung up and I called Franner. I told him the story.

“I’ll row in with you on that, Del. That prick isn’t going anywhere near my Graham and beware what you say to him, Del. He’ll just play the race card. He was done for possession a few years ago. He took a few words that the Garda said to him, twisted them and sued for discrimination.”

“What happened?”

“He won the fucking case. Got €40k.”

“Ok, let me think on it. I’ll see you later,” I said.

I didn’t want to expose my kids to his presence, so I called Eva and asked her if I could send them around to her for an hour.

Franner and I were at my door when Barry waddled along the road and turned into my garden.

“Gentlemen,” he said, in a bombastic manner.

“Barry, how’s it going?”

“You wanted to see me?”

“Not particularly, Barry, but we need to make this ridiculous idea of yours disappear.”

“Can we go inside and discuss it privately?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You might be casing the joint for all I know.”

“That’s a slanderous statement.”

“It’s only slanderous if someone besides you heard it. I said. “Did you hear anything, Franner?”

“What? Sorry, I wasn’t listening,” Franner said.

“Barry, the management of this team was decided on the playing and coaching ability of the managers. You know fuck all about football.”

“I’m the Chairman of the club and what I say goes,” he said.

We started laughing.

“Are you fucking serious?” I asked. “You don’t anything about football, Barry, you don’t even know how many teams we have in the club. You can’t just pick a group of people and insinuate yourself into it, simply because you’re the Chairman.”

“Why not?”

“Because they have the right to reject you. Do yourself a favour and go sit on your stool at the bar down in Kyle’s. Leave the football to the grown ups.”

“I could fire you, Caldwell.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Barry. I won’t need to be fired.”

I pulled out my phone and held it up.

“I just have to push a button on this and our team will become Shels’ team in two minutes.”

“You can’t do that, Caldwell.”

“I suggest you ring Paddy Brown about that, I straightened him out on it this morning.”

“I’ll sort you, Caldwell, one way or the other.”

“I’ll tell you what, Mr. Chairman,” I said, “it’s not worth the hassle to me. You want to be the manager of the team? You’re welcome to it. All of your club gear is in those four kit bags over there, take them with you and fuck off out of my garden. By the way, you need to wash that kit after the game last night too.”

“I’ll collect it tomorrow,” he said.

“Take it now, it’s beginning to smell.”