The Scout or Welcome to South Bermondsey - стр. 10

So, from such happiness, our blokes just went insane. The Fans arrived at the base on Tuesday. They knew that Monday was a day off, and no one would be at the base. Songs were shouted out, flares were lit. They acted like the Tiffozi, only they were dressed more decently.

On Wednesday, some blokes met little Fleming in one of the establishments and they didn't let him go until they'd made sure he drunk himself senseless. What discipline? Fleming was barely alive and could barely move his legs in training for two days. I won't even say anything about the social networks. All over the net they were still going nuts about Harris and the scoundrels in the club's management. Generally speaking, this entire orgy of happiness should have ended badly, and thus it so happened.

Johnny picked me up on Friday.

"Come on, Alex, let's sit down."

"Johnny, thank you, but I don't have time. I have to go to Exeter."

"Bloody hell, Alex. What haven’t you seen there? There are also only black ones. And ones that compared to your Cameroonian, are like way before Premier-League."

"You're a racist, Martin. You know, money doesn't know colour."

"Are you taking the car or the train?"

"I’m going by train."

"Then let me give you a ride. We need to talk."

He was driving badly. He twitched, broke sharply, and in general was somewhat nervous. I was silent. There's nothing I could do to help him. Let him speak for himself.

"That’s it."

"What’s it?"

"It's over. Harris is being removed."

"Oh, come on? How do you know that? Did you talk to the Big Boss?"

"Yes. I honestly explained to him that I didn't want to be a rat and couldn't work with the blokes without the old man. That today there was nothing better than Harris for the team. I told him that we have gained momentum and do not need to break anything."

"What about him?"

"Well, what about him… You know. If he's got the reins under his tail, there's nothing you can do about it. Generally speaking Harris is not permanent."

"That's disgusting. That’s bad."

"Too bad," Martin agreed. "I don't know what to do now…"

"When will it be announced?"

"Tomorrow, before the match."

"Wankers…"

"Yeah."

At Exeter, I was checking out a bloke to play as a fullback. He was a tough Irishman, aggressive and mean but for serious work still a little green. Losing his head he picked up yellow cards during the season. So in this match he got his "sick leave". Although he must be given his due, he always sees everything on the pitch and was good during the selection process, true that was by Exeter City standards. I'll have to watch him a couple more times. It would be interesting to watch him in the cup, against a stronger team than the one from Oxford.