Pretending to love the football king

a

h the physio about my hamstring w

cored an own goal, or someone's wife has left, or someone has been sold. It doe

d quietly. "You

That is what I do. J

heard t

ther's

his, it means I was

of my hand. I did no

studio I recognised from a hundred sports panels, and on the sofa, smal

n Pen

and her eyes were doing the thing they always did when s

ow the sight of it made me want

t up,"

hurried, like a man walking fast. "I've spoken to

er V

lub that had paid for my first boots and half my c

accident," Silas finished. "Not the clu

lip c

at dressing

the interviewer asked, with her sharp little smi

n whispered

ands shook with how badly

inner, wine, a petty argument about nothing, Silas leaving at nine

one about the thirty

aying, "I need you to trust me." Me, stupid and angry, shaking him

sk me for an

st words I ever s

brate against the bench, and it did not stop. A

nd on my shoulder. "What was sh

amsin's mouth was still moving,

ilas had never called me at 11:4

me in four years, somebody was te

s, I could not tell w