11. You'll Never Walk Alone

It is an axiom of football politics that any individual striving to reach the pinnacle of management is a manifestation of not just their own ambition but also an expression of the will of many backers who see in their candidate something of their own unrealized aspirations. So it was with the career of Arsenal. Wife Lilliput’s father had established a vineyard in Beaujolais whose Grand Cru wines had won medals at several highly reputable European viticulture expositions. These wines, some of which were endorsed by Michelin Guide sommeliers, had brought in revenues and influence throughout France that made the gentleman highly respected, even in fields that contained no grapes. Luc Boucher, whose only sporting exploit was to wing a woodcock when shooting at his estate, had financed the grooming of his son-in-law to the hilt, expediting Arsenal’s football rise. Boucher subsequently had a serendipitous encounter with Lachlan at a theatrical presentation of the Dijon Compagnie de Molière on the outer edges of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. This chance discussion had been the necessary ingredient that precipitated Arsenal’s departure from Wimbledon, London. Lachlan had contrived to put Monsieur in touch with Aces’ owner Winnifred, at one point the Frenchman dining at her redoubt in Berwick, and the deed was done. Arsenal was lured north to Anstruther, thereby fulfilling the cockamany project to bring new life to Fife football. Arsenal had never looked back and had no regrets about leaving the Wimps, in the lurch a neutral observer might say. Despite the view of the placid Firth of Forth from his sitting room bay window, as Arsenal contemplated it, his journey in Scotland was no walk in the park. No scivers were tolerated in this footy business, especially in Fife where supporters became dyspeptic at every loss.

 

Liverpool had just secured the Premiership title in England. The Kop was engulfed in a sea of red scarves, one of which was a tattered Man U scarf, but the ecstatic fans totally missed that major miscue, akin to waving a red flag at a bull in Pamplona. Liverpool city centre, well clear of Goodison that is, became the stage for umpteen renditions of “You’ll Never Walk Alone” borrowed from but never rendered to, Parkhead. Inspired by the jubilant scenes from Merseyside, Arsenal resolved to impart more of the one for all and all for one musketeer philosophy to his squad that had evidently worked so resoundingly well at Anfield. His smartphone ringing at this juncture, Arsenal curtailed his musings. It was Stephano, could he come over, he had some interesting information to share? Stepano arrived ten minutes later hitching his trike to the horse chestnut tree which shaded the rhubarb patch. He was all enthused about some new scientific process he had read about online. CRISPER it seemed was paying dividends for Aberdeenshire farmers using genetic sequencing to produce prize cattle. Could the Aces not breed champion soccer players by selective application too? Arsenal was skeptical but committed to analyzing the online info and to forwarding the concept to the club’s Ladies Auxiliary. Could the club afford to wait the incubation period of a normal pregnancy, 11 months he recalled writing on his physiology exams, plus the 18 to 20 years for the maturation of little prodigies? In an enterprise where what you did yesterday was never enough and must be subservient to what you would do to-morrow, literally to-morrow, Arsenal felt little enthusiasm to pursue the fruits of CRISPER. Financial prerogatives dictated thus.

 

A damp chill enveloped the ground on the day Shettleston Shufflers made their league appearance at the Aces. They brought with them their living mascot, 90 years young Thomas More. As a charity stunt Thomas was committed to shuffling once around the field prior to kick-off, supported by his walker. Fans loved the novelty of the exploit about to unfold which was receiving considerable press coverage, but they were less taken with the advice to show up 45 minutes prior to game time to see him off. Could he complete the lap under such tight time constraints? Thomas set off into the grey drizzle and sure enough emerged from the soupy mist at a snail’s pace but traversed the finish line with ten minutes grace. And what was this? He was not walking alone but had a retinue of celebrities accompanying him. Fans had by now shown up in numbers and they egged him on as he completed his outsized task. Later it was learnt that charities had been so impressed with the funds they had received that they were petitioning St James’s Court to have Thomas named in the New Years Honours List. Knighted no less. Henry VIII and Tom’s namesake Sir Thomas More would be sitting up in rapt attention in their graves!

 

The other news of the day was that Seamus Murdoch, the Anstruther Chairman, had received a summons from the SFA that morning for allegedly tampering with a Wishaw Washerman player in an under-the-table attempt to acquire the player’s rights. Murdoch had purportedly shared a few confidences with colleagues whose disdain for him and his shady dealings had given rise to shameful rumor which was then determined to be fact. His future at the club was now in doubt which only goes to show that loose lips do indeed sink chairmanships. Arsenal when he heard of the situation dismissed it as scuttlebutt although with his knowledge of the business he should not have been so perfunctory in his assessments. By five pm when it was official that the points had been shared with the Shufflers, Arsenal was already in a tête-à-tête in the makeshift board room in the container dressing room. Players as usual had opted to avoid the bracing sea water showers so the premises were semi-deserted within a matter of minutes of the final whistle. Arsenal dictated a club statement expressing regret at the Chairman’s predicament. Jolly Roger in Communications was recruited to go into damage control mode. “Nip this in the bud, Roger” he was exhorted.

 

After the game Jinky slunk off home to his caravan next to Berti’s near the tinkers’ encampment. He had always been prone to injury; seems like in the dying minutes of the match he had tweaked his hamstring. However this did not deter him from meeting the challenge from a trailer park trio of tikes who button holed him as he approached his abode. How many bounces could he achieve in an exhibition of keepie uppie? After one final uppie on the tip of his nose, a trick he had seen done by a seal at the outdoor aquarium, Jinky good naturedly dropped the ball and claimed 29. In reality it was closer to 15. None of the kiddies had the wherewithal to compute beyond three so they were all taken in. Heck not one of them had a parent over 23.  And so it was, Jinky remained their idol and he amused himself with pulling pure Cheviot wool over their eyes. To compensate, he joined the bairns in a session of three-and-in between improvised goalposts that he could not help noticing comprised a Pierre Cardin jumper for one post and an Yves St-Laurent for the other. Kiddies these days had such a sense of fashion. Jinky slumped on his couch and plugged in his MP3. In need of a pick-me-up he chose the good old stand-by from his Celtic days “You’ll Never Walk Alone” which always pulled at his heart strings. Ironically it was former team mate Kenny Dalgleish who had potted the winner to win the championship for the Scousers.