Page 68 of Playing the Game
THIRTEEN
ADAM
A week later Adam drove up to Goran and Paloma’s house. Photographers and reporters crowded around the gates. For once, they were there for a happy occasion. Everyone had gathered to celebrate Petar’s christening.
It lifted Adam’s spirits to see some Brockton fans there in the kit. Not everyone had abandoned the team then. The day before they had beaten Nottingham Forest by two goals.
Goran and Paloma had managed to lock down the church in a nearby village so the media hadn’t got anywhere close.
Adam put his window down.
“Hey, Adam,” one reporter said. “Word is you’re the godfather. How does that make you feel?”
“Who told you that?” he replied, flashing what he hoped to be a winning smile.
Goran and Paloma had decided to try to protect Petar as much as possible from the intrusions of the British media. Easier said than done but Adam could respect it.
“A little bird. Any comment?”
“None whatsoever.”
The gates began to open.
“A good win yesterday,” another reporter shouted. “Do you think the team are starting to gel?”
Adam frowned. “Have you seen our record this season? We gelled from the beginning. Brockton are going to be a force to be reckoned with this year.”
“No wandering eyes in the locker room then?” the reporter fired back.
“What did you say?”
They were saying it to provoke a reaction. Even so, Adam wouldn’t ignore such bullshit.
“I’m only joking, Adam.”
“Shit sorry,” Adam replied. “I didn’t get it. Perhaps you’d like to explain the joke?”
All eyes were on the reporter, who had the decency to blush and remain silent.
“No?” Adam continued. “Not to worry. Hope you have a great day, boys. Hanging around outside. They’ve forecast rain. Did you know?”
The gates were open now and Adam drove into the safety of Goran’s home. It was set in acres of gardens and the noise of camera shutters soon faded away. Maybe he would bring Anna here too.
Alain and Ewen were ahead of him. He jumped out of his car.
“Hey, groovers,” Adam shouted.
“Please don’t ever say that again,” Ewen replied. “You’re not that bloody old.”
Adam playfully swatted him on the head before opening the back door of his car. The biggest teddy bear he’d been able to find online waited for him.
“Bloody hell, Skipper,” Alain said. “That’s the same size as Ingvar.”
“Did someone say my name?”
Ingvar, Brockton’s best defender, came around the side of the house with his stunning wife, Cynthia.
Adam hauled the cuddly toy out of the car and handed it his teammate. “Give a guy a hand.”
