The Cup Tie: Chapter 7

I just seemed to wait there. All the sheets of newspaper that I had read earlier had been cleared away. It was just a case of when the others would be back to slipper me. I don’t think I could have handled another beating, especially as it was to involve a lot more strokes. Thoughts of how to escape went back through my mind again. I was even prepared to do some real grovelling but then I remembered Paul’s response earlier when he thought of me as a “tart“.

But then did I want to be seen by Joe and Adam grovelling? I remember picking up one of Paul’s plimsolls and just checking it out. I decided it was time to ‘Man Up’ and take my whacking. I’d voluntarily bend over the physio’s bench. I’d not let them have the pleasure of thinking they were putting me in pain. But then could I really do that for the 48 strokes promised to me?

It must have been well over half an hour that I was left to sweat it out. That was perhaps worse than the slipper itself. I would have been about quarter to ten when Rob entered the dressing room. He had my boots and a large black plastic bag in one hand and my shin pads and a pale green towel in the other. He hung the towel from one of the pegs and dropped the other items on the floor. “Your towel got a bit grubby in the melee at half time”, he said and went on to add that Liam, Andy’s boyfriend, had a another towel in his car which he was lending to me. I had to clean Liam’s towel and bring it back to Andy on Tuesday evening - the next training session.

There was to be no boot inspection and no beating. Rob, once more, left me. The black plastic bag contained my clothes and gel and flip flops for the shower. I was feeling mighty relieved. I made my way into the shower and decided to clean my own boots while there. We weren’t supposed to clean our boots in the shower because it blocked the drains. But I figured that with just my boots it would do no harm and it would be my last act of defiance.

It was Simon and Rob who wanted me slippered a second time but it was Andy and, surprisingly, Paul who had thought I’d been punished enough. Joe and Adam’s thoughts, weren’t considered. It was Andy, making a compromise, who suggested that leaving me to sweat it out the way I did would in itself be a punishment.

Having dried myself and got dressed I stepped out of the dressing room. Paul was waiting in the corridor. He had smile on his face. “Come on you stupid little sod. Let’s get you fed”, were Paul’s words. He led me into the bar area. There was a pie and a plate of baked beans heating in the microwave and I was being pulled a larger shandy. It was just the gang of four plus Liam, Joe and Adam left. Not even my dad had waited, Simon had been left the keys with instructions on how to lock up and the other lads would collect their boots on Tuesday. Liam drove Adam and myself home.

I didn’t really want to talk about the evening. My mum thought what had happened to me was a bit barbaric but my dad somehow sympathised with my team mates. Meanwhile, Joe and Adam had been given strict instructions not to blab about the evening. “What happens in club stays in club”, they were told and warned of the dire consequences if they failed to remember that.

I didn’t argue with anyone at the club after that. I was much quieter and agreeable at the Tuesday training session and Alan, on advice from Simon, was happy to put me in the team the following Saturday. Once more the referee made some crap decisions but I argued with none of them. I just ran my bollocks off and set up two goals. Although the club took no further sanctions against me the FA did. Three weeks later and I started a three match suspension. I even offered to help out around the ground on those match days. I suppose I had become a much more agreeable person and that wasn’t just noticed at the club. My mum, dad and Sam saw the change in me too.

Although I missed the next round of the cup I was back in time for the Quarter Final and in the final I picked up my first cup winners’ medal.