Naw, take it fae me, Regi: optimism is a children’s illness. Like the measles. An’ a keeper’s summit like insurance. If yir blinded by optimism an’ countin oan hivin nuthin but guid luck, ye dont need insurance. An’ that’s how, when weans play fitba, nae cunt wants tae go in goal. An’ wance, when we’d an important game, against the Italians fae the gasworks, nae cunt wantit tae be the goalie again so we pit wee Balsiger — the poorest an’ maist-harassed wee guy roon oor way — in goal.
But ah dont want tae be in goal!
Zip it, Balsiger, an’ jist get in!
But ahm naw very guid in goal.
Yir even worse oot. Now git in goal or ye kin go straight hame!
We got hammered. Oan the way hame, someone said the goalie wis tae blame. Wi a better goalie, we’d hiv won by a few clear goals, they said. The goalie wis worse than useless, they said, the guy shid be fired intae ooter space etc. Where’d he get tae anyhoo, the damn goalie, ma friends suddenly asked. How? ah asked back. We shid teach him a lesson he’ll nivver forget, they reckoned. They got themsels aw worked up. Someone hid the idea ae sendin oot a search party. When they found him, he’d get a right guid hidin.
Ah kidnae see the sense in that at aw cos, tae me, it wisnae at aw clear we’d lost cos ae the keeper. An’ anyhow: we’d forced the wee guy tae go in goal. That’s how a sudden need fur justice came over me an’ ah started givin it: it wisnae wee Balsiger’s fault. It wis awready too late but. Wance that kinda group dynamic kicks in, there’s nae reversin it. Apart fae me, they wur aw determined tae gi’e wee Balsiger a hidin. So ah stepped forward an’ said:
Ahm yir goalie, lads. If yir hell bent on gi’in a goalie a hammerin, oan ye come. Ahm yir goalie, ya bunch ae fuckin yella-bellies!
Naw yir naw, naw yir naw, they said, an’ ah must be bloody bonkers. Ahd awready decided but ah wis takin Balsiger’s thrashin. It wis time tae speed things up. Ah lashed oot at ma team-mates, givin it: Mon then, mon then, ya fuckin yella-bellies. Yis only want tae batter Balsiger cos yir aw fuckin yella-bellies. Fuckin yella-bellies is whit yis ur. Want a goalie? Here, yis hiv a goalie. Ahm yir goalie! Ahm yir goalie! Ah went oan an’ oan at them, punchin them noo an’ knockin them over. Soon, ahd provoked them sae much, they set upon me, right enough, first wi their fists an’ then their feet. Wis that it? ah asked when ma nose started bleedin. They wur a bunch ae fuckin pansies, ah tellt them. Ahd nivver seen such a crowd ae sissies, their punches didnae even hurt. That spurred them oan even mair, of course. Me an’ aw but: ah wis aw fired up. They hit oot at me again, harder an’ harder, rougher an’ rougher, mair an’ mair brutal they wur gettin. Ah went doon on the grun. They kept goin till ah kid hardly breathe. Shortly before the lights went oot, before ah fainted, ah wis croakin, apparently: Ahm yir goalie! Ahm yir… Then ivrythin went dark an’ eftir that, aw ah know is: ah woke up at hame, in ma ain bed. Ma faither wis goin ballistic an’ ma maw wis sayin she worried aboot me: whit wid become of me.
Regula looks at me. That wonderful amazed look she his only a very rare time. Ah cannae believe it, she says.
Naw, Regula, take it fae me. Take it fae me. Aw that exists. Plenty ae other stuff an’ aw. Ye can believe it awright.
Oor two heids wur really close. She wis still lookin at me that same way. Ahd the impression, nearly, she wis lookin in ma face fur traces ae that fight twenty year ago. Ah inched closer, pit ma hauns oan her cheeks an’ kissed her oan the mooth. It wisnae lust. It wis direct but. An’ the crucial thing wis: Regula kissed me back, long an’ slow. Tenderly. Properly. Finally.
18
Ah didnae go tae work the next day. If yir as happy as ah wis that mornin ye cannae jist go tae work as if nowt his happened: matter ae self-respect, that is. So ah skipped work. Didnae even phone in. When the phone then went, mid-mornin, it hid tae be the work, ah reckoned. Ah wis oan the back foot even as ah said ma name, even. Then but, ah listen mair closely an’ it’s Uli at the ither end.
Ah wis glad ah didnae need tae make up some lie. Uli! Ah dont believe it! Whit a surprise. Ye still alive?
Whit ye up tae, Goalie?
Ahm at hame.
So ah see.
Ah shid be at work actually.
Oh yeah, true — ah didnae think ae that — that ye kid be slavin away. Noo but, noo yir oan the phone, ah assume yir naw at yir work.
Yir a genius, Uli. Joined-up thinkin, eh? Ahm amazed.
Arent ye just? Eh?
Where ur ye?
Ahm at hame an’ aw!
Whit — ye done wi the farmers?
Naw, oan holiday!
Whit dis that mean? Ye hivnae jist fucked aff, hiv ye? Ye goin back?
Course ah am. Ahm naw finished yet. It’s a longer-term thing wi this farmin family. They’re naw the worst in the world, honestly naw. Noo but, ahm on leave till the day eftir themorra.
Great. Take it ah’ll be seein ye?
That’s how ahm callin, Goalie.
We met at the station. Even if the weather wis cauld an’ ugly, Uli wantit a bit ae a walk. Lookin a loat better, he wis. Ahd nearly even say: he looked normal, like a normal person, sorta.
Life oan the farm wis clearly daein him guid. Edi came back tae mind. Edi wis a character fae oor primary school years, a character fae wan ae they readin books. We learnt tae read usin Edi stories. Edi, Mama, Papa, it said, fur example, oan wan page. Or: Edi is in bed. Edi is in the house. Edi is in the garden. Edi is at the table. Edi is quiet. Eat, Edi, eat. Run, Edi, run. Etc, etc. This Edi boy — in oor first readin book, in Primary 1, as ah say — wis a bit lanky, a bit pale. So he wis allowed tae go an visit relatives ae his oan a farm. Tae build his strength up. This gave us weans, in Primary 1, the chance tae learn the names ae aw the animals: Edi is in the barn. Edi sees a pig. Edi sees a calf. Edi sees a chicken. Edi has some soup. Edi is a good boy. Edi is cheerful. Tellin ye: Edi boy wis something else. Hale generations ae us learnt tae read an’ write wi this wee sick boy. Magine! If ye unnerstaun Edi, ye’ll unnerstaun us better an’ aw, mibbe — an’ when Edi got back fae the farm, he’d rid cheeks, even.
Ah tell Uli aw that Edi stuff his come back tae me noo ahm seein him again. Ah ask him kin he mind Edi?
Rings a bell, aye. A distant yin. But really only because you’re talkin aboot it but. Ahd forgot aw aboot it, nearly. Tell me, Goalie, how come you nivver forget stuff like that? It’s a lang, lang time ago. Jist fuckin forget it aw.
How shid ah? It disnae take up that much space in yir brain. Ah kin mind loads ae stuff. An’ sometimes ah kin take bits ae it oot an’ use them. It’s guid sometimes tae hiv stuff at the back ae yir brain. Tell me somethin else but, Uli. How well dae ye know wee Stofer?
Minute ah say that, Uli his a coughin fit. Ah wait — patiently — till he’s done coughin. Ah wait fur an answer. Ah kin see he’s lookin ill again, jist aboot.
Wee Stofer?
Aye, wee Stofer.
Hoo well ah know him?
Exactly. Hoo well ye know him.
Ah know him a bit, aye. Same as you. Know him fae the pub, fae hivin a few jars. Smokin heroin. Ivry noo an’ then, he actually sellt some. A runner, he wis, smaw fry. Naw wan ae the big boys. Ye know that yirsel. How ye askin?