Read Online Football Crazy by Terry Ravenscroft, Ravenscroft - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Terry Ravenscroft, Ravenscroft
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football; but he was bright, there was no doubt about that, he'd passed GCSEs and things and had a good job in the financial department of the Frogley Borough Council.
Stanley spoke his thoughts out loud. “I wonder if t' lad could help me think of summat?”
“ What?” said Sarah Jane, who was seated opposite her husband, knitting him a new scarf in the Frogley Town colours, on the strict understanding that if she finished it in time for the start of the new football season he wouldn't dye the cat.
“ I were just wondering if our Craddock Kiln Wragg Hovel Clogthorpe Flinch Jabbit Crowe Fentonbottom Grit and Shakeshaft could help me out.”
Sarah Jane pulled a face. “Does tha have to call our son by his full name every time tha mentions him?”
“ I like saying it, Sarah Jane. It's music to me ears. It's t' names of 1935 Cup-winning team.”
“ I know what it's name of Stanley Sutton; I ought to, I've heard it often enough! And what does tha want help with, anyroad?”
“ Mr Price needs more folk watching t' Town.”
Sarah Jane sniffed. “I'm surprised as he hasn't issued all his workers with a season ticket before now and knocked t' money out of their wages every week.”
It took only a second to hit Stanley. “Bloody hell! Bloody hell Sarah Jane, that's it!”
Back at the football ground Dave Rave was interviewing Moggs.
“ ....Town goalkeeper Gary Moggs. Tell me Gary, as a Frogley player, what is your reaction to the news that meat pie magnate Joe Price has bought Frogley Town?”
Grouped around them, all the other players waited expectantly for Moggs's reply.
“ Well....” started Moggs. “Well....well obviously Dave, I mean....well I'm just over the moon out about it.”
All the players burst out laughing and jeering at Moggs, who threatened the lot of them with violence.
Joe Price, approaching the portakabins, wondered what they were laughing about. And, more to the point, what they'd got to laugh about, since they'd been beaten the day before by a team from the Blue Square North. One thing was certain, they wouldn't have anything to laugh about for much longer.
George saw Price's approach through the window of the portakabin. He turned to Donny. “He's here.”
“ Price?”
George nodded. Donny went over to the mirror for a final check on his appearance. He put a stray hair back into position across the top of his head, straightened his medallion, flicked a speck of dust off the bowler hat in the crook of his arm, then turned to George.
“ How do I look?”
“ He's here to discuss the future of the club with us Donny, not audition us for Butlins,” said George. “But if he was auditioning us for Butlins you'd stand an excellent chance. Particularly if they were putting on a minstrel show and you were happy about blacking up.”
“ What do you mean?” asked Donny, unable to make the connection between his appearance and a Black and White Minstrel, but before George could enlighten him the door swung open and the new owner of Frogley Town stepped in.
Donny had only ever seen Price from a distance, or in the newspaper. Close up and in the flesh Frogley Town's new owner was even more impressive-looking. Donny was glad he had taken such care over his appearance.
Price looked the pair up and down. “You two will be George Fearnley and Donkey Donnelly then?”
Donny put him right. “ Donny Donnelly, Mr Price. Big Donny Donnelly.”
“ I were referring to thee by t' name as tha were known by when tha played left back for Stockport County,” said Price.
Donny let this slight on his footballing ability pass. There were more urgent things to discuss. He set the ball in motion. “Before we go any further Mr Price, I'd like you to know that I feel it is imperative that I have a number two.” Then, just in case Price wasn't absolutely clear about what he was demanding. “I don't mean a shit or a haircut, I mean an assistant”
The look that Price gave Donny was long in
Stanley spoke his thoughts out loud. “I wonder if t' lad could help me think of summat?”
“ What?” said Sarah Jane, who was seated opposite her husband, knitting him a new scarf in the Frogley Town colours, on the strict understanding that if she finished it in time for the start of the new football season he wouldn't dye the cat.
“ I were just wondering if our Craddock Kiln Wragg Hovel Clogthorpe Flinch Jabbit Crowe Fentonbottom Grit and Shakeshaft could help me out.”
Sarah Jane pulled a face. “Does tha have to call our son by his full name every time tha mentions him?”
“ I like saying it, Sarah Jane. It's music to me ears. It's t' names of 1935 Cup-winning team.”
“ I know what it's name of Stanley Sutton; I ought to, I've heard it often enough! And what does tha want help with, anyroad?”
“ Mr Price needs more folk watching t' Town.”
Sarah Jane sniffed. “I'm surprised as he hasn't issued all his workers with a season ticket before now and knocked t' money out of their wages every week.”
It took only a second to hit Stanley. “Bloody hell! Bloody hell Sarah Jane, that's it!”
Back at the football ground Dave Rave was interviewing Moggs.
“ ....Town goalkeeper Gary Moggs. Tell me Gary, as a Frogley player, what is your reaction to the news that meat pie magnate Joe Price has bought Frogley Town?”
Grouped around them, all the other players waited expectantly for Moggs's reply.
“ Well....” started Moggs. “Well....well obviously Dave, I mean....well I'm just over the moon out about it.”
All the players burst out laughing and jeering at Moggs, who threatened the lot of them with violence.
Joe Price, approaching the portakabins, wondered what they were laughing about. And, more to the point, what they'd got to laugh about, since they'd been beaten the day before by a team from the Blue Square North. One thing was certain, they wouldn't have anything to laugh about for much longer.
George saw Price's approach through the window of the portakabin. He turned to Donny. “He's here.”
“ Price?”
George nodded. Donny went over to the mirror for a final check on his appearance. He put a stray hair back into position across the top of his head, straightened his medallion, flicked a speck of dust off the bowler hat in the crook of his arm, then turned to George.
“ How do I look?”
“ He's here to discuss the future of the club with us Donny, not audition us for Butlins,” said George. “But if he was auditioning us for Butlins you'd stand an excellent chance. Particularly if they were putting on a minstrel show and you were happy about blacking up.”
“ What do you mean?” asked Donny, unable to make the connection between his appearance and a Black and White Minstrel, but before George could enlighten him the door swung open and the new owner of Frogley Town stepped in.
Donny had only ever seen Price from a distance, or in the newspaper. Close up and in the flesh Frogley Town's new owner was even more impressive-looking. Donny was glad he had taken such care over his appearance.
Price looked the pair up and down. “You two will be George Fearnley and Donkey Donnelly then?”
Donny put him right. “ Donny Donnelly, Mr Price. Big Donny Donnelly.”
“ I were referring to thee by t' name as tha were known by when tha played left back for Stockport County,” said Price.
Donny let this slight on his footballing ability pass. There were more urgent things to discuss. He set the ball in motion. “Before we go any further Mr Price, I'd like you to know that I feel it is imperative that I have a number two.” Then, just in case Price wasn't absolutely clear about what he was demanding. “I don't mean a shit or a haircut, I mean an assistant”
The look that Price gave Donny was long in
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