Footballer's Booty

Football has always been a centre of attraction in any English town. The players of Trindale Athletic made much of this - they would preen themselves in front of the camera; prima donnas in the town. They lived in the fast lane, they lived for the moment. Wayne Fenton, one of the well known names, always wanted to be at the fore-front of the team. You might say he had an eye for the main chance.
* * *

Sponsorship deals could really pay. Adidas were wanting to use someone to promote their new range of sportswear. Wayne Fenton was not captain of the team, but he had scored twenty goals last season, so he reckoned he'd been noticed. To tell the truth, he didn't have a lot of time for the captain of Trindale Athletic; he found him arrogant, cocky, too full of himself. He knew also, Tom Sanders, would just love to clinch the deal with Adidas; get all that lovely lolly for himself. Wayne thought he might grow to hate him. Several weeks passed, and the company had finally decided on the sponsorship deal. The team had been called to a meeting to let them know who had been chosen. Wayne thought he was in with a chance.

* * *

"After much consideration, we are giving the deal to Tommy Sanders mainly because of his profile; he is very much in the public eye at the moment, and the aura around him is upbeat and swinging and centred on the young."

A cheer went up, but Wayne looked gloomy and despondent. He managed a weak smile however, when Tom looked his way. Wayne had some financial problems that needed action if they were to be resolved. The sponsorship deal would have made things so much easier.

* * *

In many ways he was jealous. Tom Sanders had everything. He was top earner at the club, his house was fabulous, and apart from a beautiful wife, he was always having affairs with glamourous women, some of whom were film stars. Tom could be abrasive when he liked. Really, the two men had never got on. When Tom inviegled his way into Lulu's affections that was the last straw. Lulu was Wayne's wife. Maybe Wayne was not well, but he wanted to get back at Tom, do him some damage.

* * * * *

The manager took delivery of the box of champagne. It was marked Bollinger. There must have been twelve bottles inside. It seemed to be from a well-wisher, no card with it. Tom Sanders got a lot of gifts: just this once, I will give it to someone else, the manager thought. Poor Wayne Fenton is looking so down at the moment. It will cheer him up. I don't want players feeling slighted, simply because Tom is so successful. It would not be fair.

* * *

Kick-off was at three. The players arrived before two, and headed for their lockers. Wayne wanted to avoid the locker room, particularly at two, because of what he had done. He tried to look casual and insouciant outside the manager's office whilst the players assembled in the locker room. Just then, the manager came out of his office and said to Wayne,

"Oh, come in Wayne. I have got something for you."

On seeing the box of champagne, Wayne turned white. He was horrified. It was on the stroke of two he had set the bomb. It was too late to run, he knew. He had expected the blast to be in the locker room. He'd cooked his goose this time. Wayne wouldn't rise from the ashes.

* * * * *

Tom, confident and assured, took his place at the wake, shedding quite genuine tears, for the loss of a team mate. The sun shone brilliantly, yet hard and merciless, on the moving body of the mourners. The gravestones were warm, even hot, and a small lizard darted through the celandine; nature's affirmation of an eternal continuum.