TJ swallowed and tried to make eye contact. "That's your disabled team. That's where it all started for you."
"It's passion, mate, pure passion. They don't get paid. No matter how good they are, they'll never earn a single penny. They play like I did in the school playground. Kicking that ball because kicking a ball is the most beautiful feeling. Scoring a goal. Last-ditch clearance. Kids going 'whoa!' when you do a skill."
Briggy interrupted me mid-flow. "That's what you are. You're two hyperactive little boys in short shorts running around the school having fights and being friends again five minutes later."
"No," I said, in a fake-annoyed tone. "I'm a hyperactive little boy running around having the best day ever, again and again. He's a fucking husk."
Briggy lifted the bottle and lowered her head. Point to Max!
TJ took a slow breath. "You are prescribing me a dose of pan-disability football, Max?"
"I don't know what it is for you. I only know what it is for me. It's the Knights or the under twelves. Oh, and there's Footy Addicts. It's an app," I told Briggy. "You sign up and play a match with complete strangers. No stakes, just a bit of exercise. Football stripped back to its bare soul. Fun, teamwork, and some light showing off. For me footy was always a way to meet people and make friends. I never had a friend I didn't meet through football. Get yourself to one of those matches, TJ. They won't know who you are. My tragedy," I said, turning to Briggy again, "is that I'm so spectacular I'm recognisable even when I try to play like a normo. In my worst ever professional performance, I scored against a top six Premier League team."
"From sixty yards," grumbled TJ.
"What's a yard?" said Briggy, who I think was joking.
"You weren't very recognisable today," said TJ. "Except for those few minutes."
I smiled. "Think what people will say! How good is Sharky? Well, Max Best man-marked him for one half and when Sharky left the pitch, Max thought it was safe to do the same. What, really? Yes, really." I rapped the table. "That game will become part of Sharky's legend. I look after my players, TJ. The next guy's going to want Sharky in his team."
"Oh my God."
"Um..." I said, looking up. "I think that's the end of the intervention. Yeah, think so. Briggy, how did I do?"
"You ruined the effect by trying to sell him a player while you were doing it, but in fact I found it rather good. He won't take you up on your offer, though. He was repulsed by the idea of going to more football matches. Perhaps I should work for him." She was pleased with herself.
TJ drank some wine. "How do you do it, Max? You're always being spotted at matches. You're top of the league but in the last few weeks you've been criss-crossing the country. It's a joke on some of the chat groups. People PhotoShop you into the top news items of the day, or great moments from history. How do you find the motivation?"
I put my hands behind my head and closed my eyes. "It's fear, TJ. I'm afraid. Yeah I can handle League One, especially if I have two years to prepare for it. And okay, my team being gutted in January is going to suck but we'll have a cushion by then and we'll be able to find enough solutions in enough matches to stay on top. Fine. But I've got bigger challenges ahead. The Championship is going to be brutal. Twice a week I'll be up against huge clubs with massive resources and there are so many interesting managers in that league. I really think it's going to be the most fun I have in this sport, but it's going to be dizzying and relentless and I need to get fucking ready for it, do you know what I mean? I could definitely beat one Championship team if I had two weeks to prepare. But what if I have two days to prepare and then in another three days there's another one and another one and another one? Nah, I'm grinding hard so I don't get humiliated up there. Oh, shit, look." I was opening and closing my palm, getting excited and stressed thinking about what lay ahead for me. "Actual terror sweat just from thinking about what's coming." I wiped my palm on my cheap black hoodie.
Briggy narrowed her eyes. "Your pulse is high."
I grinned nervously. "I did something stupid, TJ. I got a job offer. I turned it down like I should have done, but then something struck me. The fixtures. So I went back and I accepted. I'm going in the deep end, mate. I'm not bad at this sport but I'm so comically underprepared for the challenge, I mean, ha, it's probably going to be a complete disaster. You might get sacked but I'm going to get sackcloth and ashes. I'm talking about the kind of humiliation you can't laugh off. Forget Grimsby. This is something that could haunt me for the rest of my life."
"What's Grimsby?" said Briggy, which was a valid question in more ways than she knew.
TJ was happy to answer. "Max was cruising the National League North - that's tier six - and he got bored and went to manage Grimsby. The owner promised him a suitcase full of money if he stopped them from being relegated."
"Did he?"
"Whoa!" I said. "Spoiler alert."
"No, he blew it." TJ lifted the wine to his lips but paused. "Wait. If the potential for humiliation is so extreme and you don't feel ready, why did you take the job?"
I got to my feet, scooted around Briggy, and put my face next to TJ's. "I'm doing a heist! It's a heist movie. I'm doing a heist movie, TJ!"