|
Harmison :
What are you doing here? Are you hurt?
Santiago : No, no, no, no. I got great news.
Harmison :
What?
Santiago : I made the reserve squad.
Harmison :
Oh, that's great.
Santiago : I've only one week left on my trial. I
mean, this game is make-or-break. If the boss
sees me do well, he'll
keep me on.
Harmison :
I'm sure he will.
Man :
Halt.
Do you play for Newcastle?
Santiago : Yeah.
Man :
Well, sign your name on that.
Santiago : OK.
Harmison :
They'll all be asking for your autograph soon.
You know.
Santiago : Will that bother you? What is your
problem with footballers?
Harmison :
I don't have a problem with football. It's fame
I have a problem with. It's my dad's fault. He
was in a rock band that got hot for five
minutes.
Santiago : No way. Would I know him?
Harmison :
I doubt it. I was only three. Anyway, the point
is, some of the players remind me of him. One
minute they're nice, uncomplicated guys and the
next they're ridiculously rich arseholes who
walk out on
their families.
Santiago : It was my mother who left mine.
Coach :
Sit down. Pay attention. The Dagger's hamstring
seems be holding up, so we’re going to give him
a half. Santiago, I want you on the right flank.
Keep track the number eight. He's a slippery
bugger.
Jamie :
I'll translate that for you later.
Coach :
Jamie. I want you toslot
in behind the two strikers.
Remember, don't let 'em panic you into playing
football.
Man :
Howay.
Coach :
Right. Come on. Let's go.
Footballers : Let'skick
some arse, fellas. Come on,
boys. Let's go. Let's do this. |
