Ahm ah a social worker like? Ahm ah a priest? Ahm ah a doctor? Ahm ah the very person tae bring Uli fuckin Sutter back tae the path of virtue. Naw — ahm fuck-aw, that’s whit ah am.
Ahm a stupid fuckin cunt intae the bargain. Cos last night, when ivrythin at ma place wis spinnin roon an’ roon, when moderation went oot the fuckin windae at ma private wine-tastin an’ ah ended up wettin ma whistle wi an expensive Gran Reserva (thirty francs a bottle), didnt ah go an’ phone Regula at wan in the mornin, me as pissed as a sweet-smellin fart an’ aw.
Cos that’s the kinda scatty thing ye dae when yir merry an’ think ivrythin’s fine an’ you yirsel ur mair than fine an’ the truth ae the matter is: fuck-aw’s fine. Aw ae that wis clear tae me, ah jist wish ahd realised sooner.
So ah phones her. It rings a bit. Ah wait. Buddy answers.
Hello, who is it?
Me, Goalie. Can ye get Regula fur me?
Whit dae ye want? he asks.
Regula.
Aye, but whit dae ah want her fur. At this hour.
Ah want tae tell her masel.
Dae ah naw know whit time it is?
Aye, thanks. Ah dae. Ahv a pretty guid watch, still ma auld Tissot, fifteen-year-auld it must be noo, rock solid but, an automatic Seastar, a brilliant watch, really, Tissot Seastar, really reliable, naw manufactured any mair, still a brilliant watch but. An’ that’s how he didnae need tae tell me whit time it wis. An’ anyhoo, ah wis callin tae discuss summit important wi Regula.
Regula’s sleepin.
Wake her up then.
Who did ah think ah wis like?
Who did he think he wis like?
He wis warnin me.
Oh gosh. Dont fuckin scare me now. Ma shrink tellt me naw tae be gettin worked up, whit wi ma nerves an’ that.
Wis ah oan summit or whit, he wantit tae know.
Wis he ma maw ur whit, ah wantit tae know.
It went oan like that fur aboot anither five minutes, gettin louder an’ louder, till aw ae a sudden, in the backgroon, ye kid hear her wunnerful warm voice.
She said fur him tae gi’e her the phone. Mibbe it wis important.
An’ he wis like that jist: fur her tae shoosh an’ get back tae bed. An’ tae me he went: dont even think ae cawin his hoose at this hoor ae the night again or ahd be makin his personal acquaintance.
Fur wance, ah didnt say nuthin. Then, eftir a pause, ah asked kid he finally get her tae the phone. Ahd summit tae tell her, summit urgent, summit that kidnae wait an’ needed tae be discussed by intelligent people.
He said summit totally fuckin rude an’ hung up. The line went dead — that lang cauld sound. Then: nuthin at aw. That’s where we wur at. Wisnae a guid idea, that call, really wisnae. Next week, ahm startin at the print shop but — that’s whit coonts now. They kid aw fuckin piss off, the hale lot oae them. Kid rot an’ fuckin decay — wi aw their sleepin-pill dreams ae their ain hoose wi parquet floorin an’ a patio an’ a conservatory an’ ae a private pension an’ aw they concreted-over life plans.
If ahd at least still hid the cat at least. Before they stuck me in jail, ah hid wan, a tiger. It wis guid tae hiv an animal aroon like that noo an’ then. Then ah killt it. Hidnae the heart tae pit it in a home. Ah kid get anither yin, aye. Widnae be the same but.
Oan ma first payday, ah’ll buy masel a decent coffee-maker, mibbe. Ahv awready got heartburn fae wan ae they stupit espresso pots ye screw thegither. Ye nivver know is it aw goney squirt at the ceilin or, worse still, in yir face.
Ah need tae git oot. It’s pissin it doon an’ it’s cauld an’ dork. Naw that it matters. Ah kin take ma coat. Ahv a guid coat, ye can traipse aroon fur hoors in the rain wi it. Plus: it still looks the part. Dork blue. Expensive material.
When me an’ Uli wur still at school, we used tae play fur fuckin days in the rain. He wis Netzer an’ ah wis Johann Cruyff. Some folk think ah wis aye in goal cos ivrywan caws me Goalie. That’s wrang but. Ma name his nowt tae dae wi the position ae goalie. The wans that wur guid fur fuck-aw else wur aye in goal. Ah scored mair goals oan that crappy surface than aw the ithers pit thegither. It wisnae actually a fitba pitch, mair a patch ae fuckin grass between Reitplatz an’ the main street. That wis as much as oor bit ae town hid tae offer. It wis guid enough fur us but. Back then, ivrythin wis guid enough. If things ur guid, ivrythin’s guid enough. An’ ah hid it guid as a nipper, really guid, even if ah didnae know it at the time.
Nae idea where ah shid go. Ah jist felt the need tae get oot there.
Ah walk in the direction ae Schoren. Mibbe Uli’ll be at hame an’ pit oan a cuppa or whitivver. It’s possible anyhoo. We kid then talk a bit aboot back then, when we wur kids an’ ivrythin wis great. Nearly ivrythin anyhoo. We kid talk aboot Etter, fur instance, who — when we played fitba — wis aye claimin he wis fouled an’ wantin a penalty. Course, it’s a penalty! For-fuckin-get it. Shut yir fuckin gob, Etter! In yir fuckin dreams, Etter boy. That wis nivver a foul! Naw in a million years. Ah hardly fuckin touched ye. An’ him doon on the groon, wan haun oan his shin, the ither in the air: Penalty, that’s a penalty, ref! Us jist playin oan but.
Uli stays in the groon-flair flat next-door tae a farm. Naw bad. Bit small mibbe, but it’s cheap but. An auld dear lives above him who cannae hear any mair. Which is right an’ handy when it comes tae loud music an’ that. Right at this minute but, it’s naw handy at aw. She’s lookin at me fae where she’s staunin at the open windae an’ unnerstaunin fuck aw ae whit ahm sayin. Ah point tae the door oan the groon flair. She says summit aboot the weather. Dis she know where he is an’ when he might be back? Did she see him headin oot mibbe?
Aye, she says, aw day yistirday an’ yet he said it wis goney be nice yistirday an’ theday.
Who? Who said?
That’s whit ah mean, eh, they weather guys ur gettin it aw wrang mair an’ mair oftener. Ah well, we’ll jist hiv tae take whitivver comes. That’s the wey it is, eh, whit else ye supposed tae dae? Even if we made it oorsels, it widnae be any better, the weather.
An’ Uli, the guy below ye?
Know summit? Ah dont believe a word they say any mair.
Forget it, Goalie, ah tell masel. Dont git worked up. Ye’ll be like this auld dear yirsel wan day mibbe. Probably ye’ll naw but. You’ll drap deid first.
So ah head doon intae the village tae borrow a few videos. Or mibbe naw, nae videos, they’re jist tae kill time, yir better gettin books. Books last longer an’ yir heid disnae feel so empty eftirwards, when yir done readin them. If they wur hawfway decent, that is, at least.
It wid be great tae hiv a guid natter wi Uli aboot the auld days. Wonder whit Etter’s daein these days? Guy done teacher trainin, ah think, then actually became a fuckin teacher. Started tae teach, soon as he finished his trainin, in some village. That’s aw ah know. Nae doot he’s heid ae department or summit noo. Bit ae an eager beaver, Etter. Aye wis. Bit ae a fuckin cry baby an’ aw — wi his stupit fuckin penalties.
That’s a clear-cut penalty, ref!
Shut the fuck up, Etter. That wis nivver a penalty. Naw in a million years, ya monkey.
If he got tae pick the players, he nivver picked me first. Probably wantit tae show me jist ah wisnae the best in his eyes.
An’ wee Balsiger? Wonder whit he dis these days. Guy who, when they wur pickin teams, wis aye left tae last. Then some cunt wid go: yous kin hiv him.
Naw, yous take him, we dont need him.
Naw, yous take him, we’re a man up as it is.
Disnae matter, yous kin hiv him.