Café Boris – the football match

“It’s the football tomorrow night,” Sergei said to Boris one morning.

“Football,” Boris shrugged, “what do I care. I don’t follow football.”

 

“It’s Dynamo Luhansk in the European Championship. The biggest game they’ve ever played. It will be an amazing match.”

 

“I repeat, what do I care? Dynamo Luhansk, they’re a rubbish team. More like Domino Luhansk, so flat and wooden. I don’t follow football, if I did I’d live in a town with a decent football team.”

 

Sergei persisted. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to show the game in your café.”

 

Boris looked at him incredulously.

 

“Why would people come to my café to watch football?  Why do they not go to the match?”

 

“The match is in England Boris.  And in England they charge a fortune just for a ticket, a month’s wages. And that’s without the cost of flights and hotels.”

 

“Well then, people can watch the game at home. They don’t need to bother me.”

 

“The match isn’t on TV,” Sergei insisted, “only on cable. You need a special channel to watch the match.”

 

“I can’t afford any special channels,” said Boris, “this is a simple backstreet café, not a luxury hotel with satellite TV in each room, fine food, comfy chairs and polite staff. You are confused Sergei.”

 

“You don’t need to worry about the special channel,” Sergei said. “I know someone nearby with the full satellite TV system, all I need to do is run a cable from his TV to your café. It’s a simple thing, I have a similar cable running to my own house.”

 

“Even if you run a cable to my TV, all I have is a little portable, no bigger than the screen on your mobile, I struggle to see it from six inches away. Why would people come here to watch my little TV. You make no sense Sergei.”

 

“I can borrow a large screen TV for the evening. Just five Hyrvnias, nothing, you’ll make a fortune from customers.”

 

“I know Dynamo Luhansk fans, they come here before a game sometimes. They are simple working men, they will have a few vodkas, make a lot of noise, but I will not become rich out of them. Why go to all that effort and struggle to make my five Hyrvnias back.”

“Then there’s the English fans.”

 

“The English fans?”

 

“Dynamo Luhansk are playing Sunderland United, a major English team, full of international players, big names. All the English tourists will come here to see the match. They’re mad keen on football are the English tourists. ”

 

“English tourists? What here in Luhansk? Why, are they lost?”

 

“There are lots of English tourists here, Boris. We see them all the time, it’s easy to tell they’re English, they complain almost as much as you do. I can spread the word, Boris, talk to hotels, the local Tourist Information.”

 

Boris spat at the mention of the local Tourist Information, he had regular run-ins with them for their constant promotion of his café.

“Why would I want tourists anyway, I have too many. Too many tourists, too many customers. Why should I want more? I just want to live a quiet, simple life, run a café for a few regular customers, my close friends, not every English football hooligan.”

 

“Boris, I’m offering to do all the work here, you’ll make all the profit. I know you pretend to hate customers, but we both know you like money. And this will make lots of money. What do you say?”

 

“Oh Sergei, you do keep on. You nag at me as if you were my wife. Okay, for you, but only because you’re a friend, a loyal customer. I will let you organise a football game in my café. But just as a one off, never again. I will take your word that a match against Sunderland is a once in a lifetime experience. I shall expect great things from this Sunderland United and their squad of famous international players.”

 

Sergei did as he promised and borrowed a TV that was so big it almost covered the entire south wall of Café Boris. The cable connection also worked, it picked up every TV channel in Ukraine, and seemingly every TV channel in the world.  Sergei even arrived early to help move the chairs and tables.

 

“This TV,” Boris said, “it is too big. It is almost as big as a football pitch. It takes up the whole wall.”

 

“It’s what people want, Boris, something that fills the room. It’s all part of that big match atmosphere. Almost as good as being at the game. ”

 

“Big match atmosphere. Honestly Sergei, watching Sunderland United against Dynamo Luhansk in a grotty café is not a big match atmosphere, no matter how big the TV is, or how much vodka you consume. There are bigger matches in the local park.”

 

However, in spite of Boris’ scepticism, news of the big-screen TV showing the really important European Cup match drew a large crowd, both Dynamo Luhansk fans and a surprisingly large number of English tourists. Who knew that Luhansk was such a popular holiday destination for the residents of Sunderland.

 

Half an hour before kick-off the café was already full, with every seat taken and another fifty standing. Boris was so busy he had to pay Sergei 20 Hyrvnias to help him serve and sent Olyana out to the nearby supermarket to purchase additional bottles of vodka, as his entire stock was being consumed quicker than water in a fire. Amongst the English fans empty bottles of the expensive imported lager piled up on their tables.   

 

The atmosphere was friendly and convivial, despite Boris’ best efforts. Sunderland fans sat next to Luhansk fans, even sharing a drink with them, both sides cursing their own team’s ineptitude.

 

“This is rubbish,” said Boris, the north wind has better ball control. What is this, the worst team in Europe competition. “What is that, passing? What do Sunderland players do, practise by kicking bricks? Maybe they do, they all hobble around like men with ten broken toes.”

 

The match was a thriller. Well, no, it was a close match, perhaps ‘thriller’ is not quite the same thing. Both teams had numerous chances to score, but neither team seemed capable of scoring. Open goals were missed, shots were kicked wide, balls were cleared off the line, and both keepers made scrambling saves. Every mistake was greeted by cheers and boos from the respective supporters Boris.

 

Boris added to the entertainment in his own unique way as he served the thirsty crowd.  

 

“You English, you all drink so much. Why is that, so you forget that you support this lousy Sunderland.”

 

The English fans laughed. “You’re too right there. Been on the forgetful juice all my life. Another bottle please Boris.”

 

Boris brought over more of the expensive imported beer.

 

“Dante was wrong,” he said, “had he dug deeper he would have found the final layer of hell isn’t treachery. It is Sunderland United versus Dynamo Luhansk in the European Cup.”

 

“This is boring,” Boris said at the half time interval. “No goals, no nothing. I could take the TV away, you’d have more fun looking at the wall.”

 

Boris didn’t take the TV away, but the goal drought continued through the second half. After 90 minutes the score remained a determined nil nil.

“Well thank goodness that’s over,” Boris said, “that has to be the dullest two hours I’ve ever spent. I would rather live in Russia than go through that again.”

 

“It’s not over, Boris,” Sergei explained, “it goes to extra time.”

 

“Extra time! Haven’t we had punishment enough?”

 

“There’s an extra half hour Boris, to enable a result.”

 

“Half an hour, but these teams couldn’t score in half a lifetime.  This match will go on forever. It already feels like it has.”

 

“If there’s no result after extra time, then they play again, this time in Luhansk.”

“So again then,” Boris threw up his arms. “We go through this whole exercise again. How much bad football will we have to watch before people realise these teams cannot play. Am I the only sane man here.”

 

However, there was to be no replay. Dynamo Luhansk scored in the 20^th minute of extra time. It was greeted by cheers and boos, with the Luhansk supporters ordering more vodka with which to celebrate and the English more specially imported bottled beer with which to drown there sorrows. Within another couple of hours both sets of supporters were in an identical state of sleepy, shouty, drunken idiocy.

By the early hours of the morning, when the last of the sports fans had finally left, Boris counted up his takings. Though café Boris had seen similar crowds before, it had never witness such a large number of people drinking such vast quantities. Boris had taken an average month’s takings in a single night.

 

“How do they afford this, the English?” he asked Sergei, who had stayed to help clear up. “They no longer produce anything, they are lousy businessmen, all their jobs are taken by Polish migrants. Where did they get this much money? Did they steal if from Hitler when they took Berlin?”

 

Sergei shrugged. “You see Boris, it’s good business is football. The English, the Germans, the French, they are all fools for it, all throw money at it.”

 

“So what are you saying, that I should make this a regular thing. With that monstrosity of a TV. I could never afford such a thing, I am a simple café owner, selling nutritious local produce to a loyal local clientele.”

 

“I have to return the TV, Boris. I told you, it was borrowed. But I have a friend who could get you a TV on a permanent basis for 300 Hyrvnias.”

 

“I know you Sergei, you are kind to your friends. You say 300 when you know it is not worth a Hyrvnia more than 250. Of course, it would be worthless without the cable.”

 

“I can set the cable up on a permanent basis.”

 

“So, when is the next match?”

 

“Next match, Boris. We’re out of the cup. Sunderland won.”

 

“But I must have football, Sergei. How can I have football nights without football matches.”

 

“Well there is England versus Poland.”

 

“England again. I get sick of the English. But who would come? A few Poles, a few English. Why should anyone care.”

 

“It is an important game, Boris. If Poland wins Ukraine go through to the European Championship.”

 

“Then it is settled, Sergei. Let the world come and watch England play Poland in the cosy, friendly atmosphere of Café Boris. It is much more enjoyable than watching it at home. Come, tell all your friends, we have big screen TV and expensive bottled beer.”