Going Off-Piste [CROSS #3]
Apr 10, 2023 15:22:50 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, bloodiedfox, and 1 more like this
Post by Cross Recoba on Apr 10, 2023 15:22:50 GMT -5
The crowd continued to applaud as Cross stepped off-stage. His talk to the competitors ahead of an Easter Weekend Wrestling tournament seemed a success.
He’d led with honesty. Thirty-years ago, wrestling would have been any easy choice for them but, even if Tap Out could match the money, cage-fighting had more prestige to them now.
A shortlist had been made ahead of time for him to update The Sands on wrestlers worth endorsing or backing but, for now, his work was done.
He stepped into a backroom and pressed record on his laptop.
“How do you judge potential? In a crowd of forty hopefuls you might find one or two that can go the distance, maybe a dozen more that might stick around for a few years and gain success, and the rest? They’ll wash out before they’ve even got their feet under the table.”
Cross grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.
“The Rumble is little different and, MJP, looking at the preparations people are putting in, wat group are you in? When I saw that an independent had entered, I was mildly interested, especially given the in-built advantages someone with your profile has. Unfortunately, it seems the stereotypes are true with you. How often do Scottish people appear in International tournaments? This year we got two! Do you think you’re on a par with Tap Out’s own Random McConalogue? Does your ‘following’ equal her ability to beat people like Spike Kane and Jason Long? Can you live up to your own highlight reel? Or, as I suspect, you’re playing to an audience whose attention span is shorter than your tenure in the Rumble will be? I’ve seen your type before, two words. Zoi. Rousakis..”
Cross took a swig of water and placed it on the table.
“Perhaps your management thought that Pepsiman and MJP was a marketing dream made in heaven? Who knows and who really cares? You’re a false title away from becoming someone like ‘King’ Edmund and Mutt”
Cross grabbed a chair and set it down.
“Mutt was two and eight in AXW, had a cup of coffee in Champoon and yet Edmund still missed out on his biggest relevance by not doing a single thing when the British lost their Queen. You’re the Master of Missed Opportunities, like when Mutt came last in a four-way where three title shots were on the line, or when he continually lost to Roger Riggs. What’s most interesting is that you’ve even entered this match to begin with. Mutt’s terrible in a normal match and in Battle Royales? I’ve yet to see anything outside of being eliminated that would even make a wrestling site’s recap! Are the royal coffers running low in Supremia or is Dino Bones making you do this? Perhaps competing inside of him would be the high-point of your underwhelming career to date.”
Cross leant on the chair.
“Maybe Mutt just gets bad guidance? He wouldn’t be the only person inside the ring that suffered from that. Dana Daniels picked Marty ‘Sponsorship Soon Available’ Donovan to be his mentor, the wrestling equivalent of getting cooking lessons from a Borgia. He has his hives and then what else does he have? An ability to be summarily destroyed in quick fashion? A knowledge of vowels to parody myself as Criss Recoba? The real mystery is who made the worst decision out of Marty and Dana in entering the mentor-mentee relationship. If Dana Daniels walks out of the Rumble with the X*Crown title the only question left to answer is ‘How many days until Marty forces him to lay down?’.”
Cross shuddered visibly at the possibility.
“Mind you, a lack of visible talent has never stopped people from doing well on the Network, Death Trap even admits that his reputation is of someone who somehow wins Singles titles and then loses them the next match, if he even makes it that far. The XHF Junior Heavyweight title had one of those too, Florida Man.”
He shook his head.
“Florida Man’s biggest advantage is his distinct lack of obvious skills…and I know what you’re all thinking but Chris Sanderson had nepotism and Charles at least had a cult following! On paper though, that’s where you really shine. A 7-3 record in GUNS Fight Club isn’t to be sniffed at and in the mania of the Rumble? Who wouldn’t back someone who has no regard for their own safety, no appreciation (or comprehension) of the rules, and who thrives on chaos? But when you start to look at you, the idea falls down a bit. You lost one title to Chris Sanderson and then couldn’t get it back from a stuffed toy and as for the Yamaguchi Travel Agency title?”
If one of your defenses is against Star Trekker, it’s not a real title.
“You’re a curiosity, that’s the nicest way I can put it. If I’m being blunt, you’re just a symptom of what the Rumble has been reduced to!”
[ 1st April 2023]
[Las Vegas, NV]
Putting down the phone to Libby, Cross looked at his one remaining option.
Customer ID: 24601
Taking down the number, he began to dial.
Cross sat down, taking another sip before he continued.
“That crowd in there are going to get people pulling them in every direction they can and if they take the wrong advice? Career done,it’s a constant threat throughout your career. Just ask Redmond Fury. When he made his Network debut in Ascenscion Wrestling, he came out the blocks and became a name. People use nicknames but The Buckeye Bruiser lived up his name in every way but that was a long time ago and once more, GUNS has managed to neuter him, turn him into a character in a pageant at best and at worst? Redmond, if you even make it to the Rumble and escape the Valley of the Ultra Vixens hospital that you’re currently in then what are you really going to do in the Rumble?”
Except eliminate Magnus and Beef, my thanks in advance.
I’m watching on with horror because I know if you joined Tap Out you’d start to kive up to what I thought after AWF closed, that you could become one of the very best wrestlers to ever have held the Phoenix title. But now you’re babysitting a seven-year-old orphan. You’ve gone from winning titles off someone with the humor level of a child to literally being the sidekick of one!”
A modern day ReVenant.
“You’re not alone, the Industrial Woman is his steampunk Mary Poppins allowing the least likeable child to appear in front of an audience since Gavroche. All so an orphan can steal a racing-driving woman from a man-child in a goofy costume."
That was an adjective, not a noun.
“You started out with promise! You managed to show up SWAT but how far have you fallen? At best you’re helping someone get a TLC reality series and at worst you’re just counting each day he doesn’t ask you to divide by zero as a blessing. You must cling to the fact that in CAR you’re at least able to give an interview to the press, so you’re one-up on Dana Patrick…”
[Pinedale, WY]
Bob waved to his family as they rode off on the trail.
Closing the door he grabbed the laptop and headed to his office. Opening up the computer, he plugged the day’s betting figures into the spreadsheet, if they came in, he still needed his hot streak to last another week.
He gulped as he considered the few options open to him. Outside of going to The Sands himself, he only had one - trust someone to ride their luck to pay back the house. That wasn’t going to happen, he’d have to trust their word and he couldn’t afford the downside of that decision. He could go to the Diamond Lounge or The Gambler’s Den but, much like the Bellagio or the MGM Grand, they’d likely report his appearance back to The Sands.
No, it was much better to chance his luck at the place where he sank all the money and hope his luck held out.
With a press of a few more buttons his life assurance policy was in front of him, his debt was smaller than that payout at least. He had breathing space from the nuclear option.
His phone started to ring, he didn’t recognize the number but knew the area code…702. Vegas.
“Hello?”
“Bob, Cross at the Sands. How are you? How’s Wyoming this time of year?”
He’d never met Recoba but he knew the name and reputation, this wasn’t going to be a call he’d savor.
“I’m doing well like Wyoming! I was planning to see you next week!”
“Then I hope we can address the issue of your outstanding marker.” Cross’ words weren’t cold but it was obvious the small talk was over.
“I’ll settle it up before I leave Vegas.” He heard his own confidence shine through. ”Might even make a small profit on the trip.”
“That’s not going to happen, Bob. You’re in the hole to the tune of an even mill.” Cross’ voice kept a steady neutrality to it. ”But I’m not here to call you up without some good news.”
Bob knew that the nature of the news would depend on what end of the call you were on.
“We can do this now but I’d rather discuss it in person, I can be in Pinedale by mid-morning tomorrow.”
Bob spotted a get-out.
“I would but my son’s playing in a little-league soccer match. Can we do another day?”
He heard a laugh.
“I was brought up on soccer. I’ll see you there.”
The line went dead and Bob was left wracking his brains for a way to make this disappear.
Cross leant back.
“The worst scenario for anyone I just spoke to though is that they believe their own unwarranted hype. They only have to look at the von Krauss family for how that works out. Isabella? The accelerant that burnt her up may as well have been her own entitlement and what was she trying to be? A true von Krauss.”
By which I mean fifty-cents of talent topped up with twenty dollars of self-belief.
“A collection of fantasists who have no foresight for the future based on some ridiculous notion they’re immortal. How far off the reservation do you have to be to be on a team with Poena and SOMEHOW be crazier than him? That’s what Armand did and that’s before he tried to threaten me by putting a sniper scope on Dakota…on camera, to a global audience.”
A small smile briefly flickered across his face.
“If you try and find any logic in what they do or what they say, you’re going to be gone a very long time. They claim that they were there together in the early days of their Kharnival to set Rome alight in the times of Nero and yet then say they first met five-hundred years later tormenting a Germanic-Nordic God….that they’ve kept chained up in their version of a shed. They wage wars with Donzig, beat him because if it’s a company’s top title, Donzig is allergic to them and then somehow have this frenemy thing going on where they’re constantly hanging out.”
I noticed the Wrestle: UK card had to specify it was a wrestling match on their latest show between Armand and Donzig, ambiguity would only lead them to lecture an audience on the migrational patterns of the Visigoths or how the von Krauss family actually flooded Atlantis.
“Trying to work out how that dynamic works is pointless, they’re all non-entities. Esmeralda’s biggest win was topping the table in REIGN by being King of the World.”
Which would be impressive if their roster wasn’t the size of a volleyball team.
“I’m sorry, but whenever you’ve stepped into a Global event, E, your list of victories is underwhelming. Jester LeBeau from UP? Demonik? ‘D?’ Although given that Donzig never could beat him, maybe that’s why he glommed onto you.”
Maybe you invited him to look better than him by association.
“You haven’t got your clowns, you haven’t got any of your Kharnival tricks to fall back on, EVK. You might think this rich that I’m so dismissive of you without having held any titles on the Network but if you take our win-loss records, who comes out on top? If we look at the impact we’ve both had on the Network, who wins out there? And in the Patriots Stadium you’re going to find out why I’m going to turn heads!”
[ 2nd April 2023]
[Pinedale, WY]
“What is this?” Bob’s words were only a reflection of what everyone was thinking.
“Soccer’s a real sport, why would Tap Out Wrestling be our new sponsor?” Tom matched the outrage.
Bob knew what it was. When he saw his son trot out from the changing rooms onto the pitch he Googled it immediately and saw the name tied to it.
“It is what it is. I’m not going to let it spoil what’s been a good morning so far.” Bob popped a smile. “I’m not sure Jordan’s overly happy seeing me today.”
“He won’t mind me, a couple of wins more like last night and my family’s vacation is paid for!”
Tom’s bet was reasonable, Bob thought. His was a necessity and Jordan was in the game, he’d probably seen worse weekends than this. On the opposite side of the pitch he saw what he was dreading.
The charcoal grey overcoat and suit would have stood him out on any other day but today there was an easy cover story. Why wouldn’t the team sponsor be there? The reaction was largely positive: the flight from Jackson, the nearest airport, was under two hours and so it was almost a perfect weekend getaway. Only one voice he’d heard was in any way negative and that was a treatise on a casino masking its advertising to kids.
As the first-half drew to a close with the visiting team leading, Bob saw the team huddle on the sideline ten yards from him.
“He’s here.” Bob’s tone was resigned.
Tom only nodded, his gaze out onto the now empty pitch.
The sponsorship of the team was modest, most of which was in a donation to a charity the former patrons nominated and claimed credit for. Cross paid out of his own pocket, the upside far outweighing the outlay.
“Do we have to do this here?” Bob marched towards him, the topic safely away from the earshot of others.
“It’s a relatively simple matter.” Cross’ voice neither rose nor fell as he spoke.
“And the sponsorship was just a coincidence?”
“It made sense, there’s only so many hardcore fans and we can offer a weekend away people wouldn’t get in Wyoming, it’s a win-win.”
“How long do you need? If Casey doesn’t hear me cheering him on he’ll know something’s wrong and the second-half starts soon.” Bob was almost pleading.
“You’ve seen me, you know I’m here. I thought you might prefer to do this in the open. No harm’s going to come to you with twenty-odd parents on the other side of the pitch.”
“Meet me at the Heart and Soul Bakery, I can be there an hour after the game. I’ll drop my kid off and be there at the top of the hour.”
“You’re probably right to not want Casey there, he’d be bored of the talk before I am.” Bob only took away the fact that he knew his kid’s name.
Bob shuffled back to where the other parents were. Cross watched the second-half and saw the team wearing his brand battle back to a draw. The final whistle blew and he watched Butler, Senior and Junior, walk away from the pitch towards their car.
Recoba waited a few minutes to avoid conversation, he wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries or idle chat. Walking with no real urgency in his step, he saw the cars file out towards their homes and reached for the keys to his rental.
“Have you got signal? My phone’s dead and my car’s refusing to start.” The voice came from behind him.
Cross turned around and caught a glimpse of a metal pipe coming his way before it all went black.
He’d led with honesty. Thirty-years ago, wrestling would have been any easy choice for them but, even if Tap Out could match the money, cage-fighting had more prestige to them now.
A shortlist had been made ahead of time for him to update The Sands on wrestlers worth endorsing or backing but, for now, his work was done.
He stepped into a backroom and pressed record on his laptop.
“How do you judge potential? In a crowd of forty hopefuls you might find one or two that can go the distance, maybe a dozen more that might stick around for a few years and gain success, and the rest? They’ll wash out before they’ve even got their feet under the table.”
Cross grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.
“The Rumble is little different and, MJP, looking at the preparations people are putting in, wat group are you in? When I saw that an independent had entered, I was mildly interested, especially given the in-built advantages someone with your profile has. Unfortunately, it seems the stereotypes are true with you. How often do Scottish people appear in International tournaments? This year we got two! Do you think you’re on a par with Tap Out’s own Random McConalogue? Does your ‘following’ equal her ability to beat people like Spike Kane and Jason Long? Can you live up to your own highlight reel? Or, as I suspect, you’re playing to an audience whose attention span is shorter than your tenure in the Rumble will be? I’ve seen your type before, two words. Zoi. Rousakis..”
Cross took a swig of water and placed it on the table.
“Perhaps your management thought that Pepsiman and MJP was a marketing dream made in heaven? Who knows and who really cares? You’re a false title away from becoming someone like ‘King’ Edmund and Mutt”
Cross grabbed a chair and set it down.
“Mutt was two and eight in AXW, had a cup of coffee in Champoon and yet Edmund still missed out on his biggest relevance by not doing a single thing when the British lost their Queen. You’re the Master of Missed Opportunities, like when Mutt came last in a four-way where three title shots were on the line, or when he continually lost to Roger Riggs. What’s most interesting is that you’ve even entered this match to begin with. Mutt’s terrible in a normal match and in Battle Royales? I’ve yet to see anything outside of being eliminated that would even make a wrestling site’s recap! Are the royal coffers running low in Supremia or is Dino Bones making you do this? Perhaps competing inside of him would be the high-point of your underwhelming career to date.”
Cross leant on the chair.
“Maybe Mutt just gets bad guidance? He wouldn’t be the only person inside the ring that suffered from that. Dana Daniels picked Marty ‘Sponsorship Soon Available’ Donovan to be his mentor, the wrestling equivalent of getting cooking lessons from a Borgia. He has his hives and then what else does he have? An ability to be summarily destroyed in quick fashion? A knowledge of vowels to parody myself as Criss Recoba? The real mystery is who made the worst decision out of Marty and Dana in entering the mentor-mentee relationship. If Dana Daniels walks out of the Rumble with the X*Crown title the only question left to answer is ‘How many days until Marty forces him to lay down?’.”
Cross shuddered visibly at the possibility.
“Mind you, a lack of visible talent has never stopped people from doing well on the Network, Death Trap even admits that his reputation is of someone who somehow wins Singles titles and then loses them the next match, if he even makes it that far. The XHF Junior Heavyweight title had one of those too, Florida Man.”
He shook his head.
“Florida Man’s biggest advantage is his distinct lack of obvious skills…and I know what you’re all thinking but Chris Sanderson had nepotism and Charles at least had a cult following! On paper though, that’s where you really shine. A 7-3 record in GUNS Fight Club isn’t to be sniffed at and in the mania of the Rumble? Who wouldn’t back someone who has no regard for their own safety, no appreciation (or comprehension) of the rules, and who thrives on chaos? But when you start to look at you, the idea falls down a bit. You lost one title to Chris Sanderson and then couldn’t get it back from a stuffed toy and as for the Yamaguchi Travel Agency title?”
If one of your defenses is against Star Trekker, it’s not a real title.
“You’re a curiosity, that’s the nicest way I can put it. If I’m being blunt, you’re just a symptom of what the Rumble has been reduced to!”
*****
[ 1st April 2023]
[Las Vegas, NV]
Putting down the phone to Libby, Cross looked at his one remaining option.
Customer ID: 24601
Taking down the number, he began to dial.
*****
“That crowd in there are going to get people pulling them in every direction they can and if they take the wrong advice? Career done,it’s a constant threat throughout your career. Just ask Redmond Fury. When he made his Network debut in Ascenscion Wrestling, he came out the blocks and became a name. People use nicknames but The Buckeye Bruiser lived up his name in every way but that was a long time ago and once more, GUNS has managed to neuter him, turn him into a character in a pageant at best and at worst? Redmond, if you even make it to the Rumble and escape the Valley of the Ultra Vixens hospital that you’re currently in then what are you really going to do in the Rumble?”
Except eliminate Magnus and Beef, my thanks in advance.
I’m watching on with horror because I know if you joined Tap Out you’d start to kive up to what I thought after AWF closed, that you could become one of the very best wrestlers to ever have held the Phoenix title. But now you’re babysitting a seven-year-old orphan. You’ve gone from winning titles off someone with the humor level of a child to literally being the sidekick of one!”
A modern day ReVenant.
“You’re not alone, the Industrial Woman is his steampunk Mary Poppins allowing the least likeable child to appear in front of an audience since Gavroche. All so an orphan can steal a racing-driving woman from a man-child in a goofy costume."
That was an adjective, not a noun.
“You started out with promise! You managed to show up SWAT but how far have you fallen? At best you’re helping someone get a TLC reality series and at worst you’re just counting each day he doesn’t ask you to divide by zero as a blessing. You must cling to the fact that in CAR you’re at least able to give an interview to the press, so you’re one-up on Dana Patrick…”
*****
[ 1st April 2023][Pinedale, WY]
Bob waved to his family as they rode off on the trail.
Closing the door he grabbed the laptop and headed to his office. Opening up the computer, he plugged the day’s betting figures into the spreadsheet, if they came in, he still needed his hot streak to last another week.
He gulped as he considered the few options open to him. Outside of going to The Sands himself, he only had one - trust someone to ride their luck to pay back the house. That wasn’t going to happen, he’d have to trust their word and he couldn’t afford the downside of that decision. He could go to the Diamond Lounge or The Gambler’s Den but, much like the Bellagio or the MGM Grand, they’d likely report his appearance back to The Sands.
No, it was much better to chance his luck at the place where he sank all the money and hope his luck held out.
With a press of a few more buttons his life assurance policy was in front of him, his debt was smaller than that payout at least. He had breathing space from the nuclear option.
His phone started to ring, he didn’t recognize the number but knew the area code…702. Vegas.
“Hello?”
“Bob, Cross at the Sands. How are you? How’s Wyoming this time of year?”
He’d never met Recoba but he knew the name and reputation, this wasn’t going to be a call he’d savor.
“I’m doing well like Wyoming! I was planning to see you next week!”
“Then I hope we can address the issue of your outstanding marker.” Cross’ words weren’t cold but it was obvious the small talk was over.
“I’ll settle it up before I leave Vegas.” He heard his own confidence shine through. ”Might even make a small profit on the trip.”
“That’s not going to happen, Bob. You’re in the hole to the tune of an even mill.” Cross’ voice kept a steady neutrality to it. ”But I’m not here to call you up without some good news.”
Bob knew that the nature of the news would depend on what end of the call you were on.
“We can do this now but I’d rather discuss it in person, I can be in Pinedale by mid-morning tomorrow.”
Bob spotted a get-out.
“I would but my son’s playing in a little-league soccer match. Can we do another day?”
He heard a laugh.
“I was brought up on soccer. I’ll see you there.”
The line went dead and Bob was left wracking his brains for a way to make this disappear.
*****
“The worst scenario for anyone I just spoke to though is that they believe their own unwarranted hype. They only have to look at the von Krauss family for how that works out. Isabella? The accelerant that burnt her up may as well have been her own entitlement and what was she trying to be? A true von Krauss.”
By which I mean fifty-cents of talent topped up with twenty dollars of self-belief.
“A collection of fantasists who have no foresight for the future based on some ridiculous notion they’re immortal. How far off the reservation do you have to be to be on a team with Poena and SOMEHOW be crazier than him? That’s what Armand did and that’s before he tried to threaten me by putting a sniper scope on Dakota…on camera, to a global audience.”
A small smile briefly flickered across his face.
“If you try and find any logic in what they do or what they say, you’re going to be gone a very long time. They claim that they were there together in the early days of their Kharnival to set Rome alight in the times of Nero and yet then say they first met five-hundred years later tormenting a Germanic-Nordic God….that they’ve kept chained up in their version of a shed. They wage wars with Donzig, beat him because if it’s a company’s top title, Donzig is allergic to them and then somehow have this frenemy thing going on where they’re constantly hanging out.”
I noticed the Wrestle: UK card had to specify it was a wrestling match on their latest show between Armand and Donzig, ambiguity would only lead them to lecture an audience on the migrational patterns of the Visigoths or how the von Krauss family actually flooded Atlantis.
“Trying to work out how that dynamic works is pointless, they’re all non-entities. Esmeralda’s biggest win was topping the table in REIGN by being King of the World.”
Which would be impressive if their roster wasn’t the size of a volleyball team.
“I’m sorry, but whenever you’ve stepped into a Global event, E, your list of victories is underwhelming. Jester LeBeau from UP? Demonik? ‘D?’ Although given that Donzig never could beat him, maybe that’s why he glommed onto you.”
Maybe you invited him to look better than him by association.
“You haven’t got your clowns, you haven’t got any of your Kharnival tricks to fall back on, EVK. You might think this rich that I’m so dismissive of you without having held any titles on the Network but if you take our win-loss records, who comes out on top? If we look at the impact we’ve both had on the Network, who wins out there? And in the Patriots Stadium you’re going to find out why I’m going to turn heads!”
*****
[ 2nd April 2023]
[Pinedale, WY]
“What is this?” Bob’s words were only a reflection of what everyone was thinking.
“Soccer’s a real sport, why would Tap Out Wrestling be our new sponsor?” Tom matched the outrage.
Bob knew what it was. When he saw his son trot out from the changing rooms onto the pitch he Googled it immediately and saw the name tied to it.
“It is what it is. I’m not going to let it spoil what’s been a good morning so far.” Bob popped a smile. “I’m not sure Jordan’s overly happy seeing me today.”
“He won’t mind me, a couple of wins more like last night and my family’s vacation is paid for!”
Tom’s bet was reasonable, Bob thought. His was a necessity and Jordan was in the game, he’d probably seen worse weekends than this. On the opposite side of the pitch he saw what he was dreading.
The charcoal grey overcoat and suit would have stood him out on any other day but today there was an easy cover story. Why wouldn’t the team sponsor be there? The reaction was largely positive: the flight from Jackson, the nearest airport, was under two hours and so it was almost a perfect weekend getaway. Only one voice he’d heard was in any way negative and that was a treatise on a casino masking its advertising to kids.
As the first-half drew to a close with the visiting team leading, Bob saw the team huddle on the sideline ten yards from him.
“He’s here.” Bob’s tone was resigned.
Tom only nodded, his gaze out onto the now empty pitch.
The sponsorship of the team was modest, most of which was in a donation to a charity the former patrons nominated and claimed credit for. Cross paid out of his own pocket, the upside far outweighing the outlay.
“Do we have to do this here?” Bob marched towards him, the topic safely away from the earshot of others.
“It’s a relatively simple matter.” Cross’ voice neither rose nor fell as he spoke.
“And the sponsorship was just a coincidence?”
“It made sense, there’s only so many hardcore fans and we can offer a weekend away people wouldn’t get in Wyoming, it’s a win-win.”
“How long do you need? If Casey doesn’t hear me cheering him on he’ll know something’s wrong and the second-half starts soon.” Bob was almost pleading.
“You’ve seen me, you know I’m here. I thought you might prefer to do this in the open. No harm’s going to come to you with twenty-odd parents on the other side of the pitch.”
“Meet me at the Heart and Soul Bakery, I can be there an hour after the game. I’ll drop my kid off and be there at the top of the hour.”
“You’re probably right to not want Casey there, he’d be bored of the talk before I am.” Bob only took away the fact that he knew his kid’s name.
Bob shuffled back to where the other parents were. Cross watched the second-half and saw the team wearing his brand battle back to a draw. The final whistle blew and he watched Butler, Senior and Junior, walk away from the pitch towards their car.
Recoba waited a few minutes to avoid conversation, he wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries or idle chat. Walking with no real urgency in his step, he saw the cars file out towards their homes and reached for the keys to his rental.
“Have you got signal? My phone’s dead and my car’s refusing to start.” The voice came from behind him.
Cross turned around and caught a glimpse of a metal pipe coming his way before it all went black.
*****
