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“Scott, this cannot get fucked up now. David is the top player in the league. He has a great chance of winning MVP in his first season. We can’t let this happen to him.”
“What can we do, Shauna? Those two have a history from long before you and I even came into the picture. I'm out of ideas. If you’ve got any then please let me know.” His voice takes on an irritating tone.
“You’re his manager, goddammit, do something!” Shauna yells, agitated. Scott’s just about to say something when Willie speaks up.
“Hey, guys. Take it easy. We don’t need this right now,” For once he’s as serious as a stone.
“I’m sorry,” Shauna says, turning away. Scott just looks the other way, still reeling from anger.
“Guys, shouldn’t someone go and check up on David?” I finally find the courage to speak up.
“Yeah, right! When he is in this kind of mood? If you're so brave, why don’t you go speak to him!” Shauna snorts.
Sure thing. I will! Without another word to any of them, I stride off back into the house, looking for David. I find him sitting by the bar at the far end of the living room, a tumbler of whiskey in front of him, untouched. For a moment I wonder if I should even say anything, if I should even be here. I’m afraid of invading his space, as it seems that David wants to be alone. But I feel the pain of his misery and don’t have it in me to leave him like that.
“That drink won’t solve all your problems,” I say as I slide onto the bar stool next to him.
“I know that!” David sneers as he turns around, but his eyes soften once he sees that it’s me.
“I don’t understand what’s going on or why everyone is so upset. But I also didn’t like you being all alone like this,” I say gently.
“What’s new in that? I go through all my troubles alone. I've had enough practice.”
“But it doesn’t have to be like that.”
“Why do you care?”
“It doesn’t matter why. But I do,” I know I have to tread carefully. David turns around and looks at me.
“I'm not even sure whether I myself care anymore.” The man is in a pensive state of mind. “I thought I’d left my past behind when I left Europe. My reputation, my rivalries…I thought they were all a forgone conclusion. Clearly, I was wrong. No matter where I go, those things will always follow me.” He twirls the glass of whiskey in his hand, as if still trying to make up his mind whether he should drink it.
I know a thing or two about strong, focused men like David. My father was one and he always kept everything in, never revealing his inner turmoil to anyone. I need to help him let it out.
“David.” I put my hand on his knee gently. “Talk to me, what is this about?”
Chapter 89
My plan had been to go away from everyone and wallow in my own misery but Carrie’s dared to invade my space. But looking into her eyes, I can see she wants to comfort me… That she’s pained to see me in such a state. When was the last time someone cared for me like that? And will I turn her away like I've everyone before?
I get up, push the glass of whiskey away and turn to Carrie. “Let’s take a walk.”
We end up on the other side of the house, where there’s another patio garden overlooking Bel Air. I lay myself down on the grass. It’s my favorite thing to do in moments of contemplation. With a smile on her face, Carrie goes ahead and lays down next to me. Both of us are staring at the sky, like kids.
“Playing for England is a lot of pressure,” I muse aloud. “The media and the fans always want you to win. I was the captain of England and the highest paid player in the league. The pressure on me was enormous. Last summer we managed to reach the World Cup final. There is no trophy bigger than that in football. England hasn’t won it in over 50 years.” I pause. The pain of that memory is still fresh in my heart and since that doomed day, I have never spoken to anyone about it.
“England were to play Argentina in the final. In case you don’t know, both the countries are fierce rivals, especially after the Falklands War of 1982, which the British army won. Imagine USA playing Russia at a sport,” I turn my head toward her, “Something like that.” Carrie nods.
“All of England’s hopes were on my shoulders. And we were leading 1-0 at half time, I’d scored that goal. Then in the second half, I was sent off for misconduct. Down one player, England lost the match and the World Cup.” My voice almost cracks, full of the raw emotion and disappointment that still hasn’t gone away.
“I'm so sorry to hear that, David.” She reaches out and holds my hand.
“Once back home, they were burning me in effigy, calling me names. Insults were sprayed on my house, they send death threats and I couldn’t even go out at all. It was hell! That is when I decided to come over to America. There was no way I would’ve been able to live in England in peace.”
I like living in the US but England was home. I miss my buddies, my favorite pub around the corner and most of all, my mother. The grind of daily life keeps such sad thoughts away on the whole, but today, they’ve come rushing back to me. I’ve never given myself a chance to get over this.
“But what has this guy Javier got to dow with any of it?” Carrie asks.
“Javier was playing for Argentina that day. We both have been sort of rivals throughout our careers. At least, the media hyped us like that and every time we would play against each other, they would promote it as a big game. It was always David vs Javier. We were like Ali and Frazier. Fierce rivals, no holds barred.
