This Sporting Life Page #2

Hallo, Charles.

- Charles.

- Gerald.

Pass the ball, Gower.

Pass the bloody ball, you nit!

Pass the ball, you git.

Go on, Gower. Get after it!

Let's have that bloody ball, you nut!

Get stuffed!

Get rid of that bloody ball!

- Come on, Gower!

- Pass the ball, man!

Bloody hell!

What are you playing at,

bloody frog?

Trainer, trainer.

What's your name?

I didn't do it.

- I never touched him.

- Tell that to League Chairman.

I swear, I never touched him.

Look, there's no blood on them.

Go on, get off!

Take some beating, bloody idiot!

He's not fit for a football field.

Aye.

They got the wrong man.

You think so, Mr. Slomer?

It's as plain as the nose on your face.

That's not football.

It's a rough game.

I like to see men play

as if they meant it.

- You played a blinder, Frank.

- You enjoyed it?

They'll be all over you. I was

right in't middle of Committee.

Don't get excited.

I'll buy you a drink.

What are you having?

I'll have a beer.

Two beers, please.

Two beers, sir.

You won't find them different.

Naturally, they won't

show it like me.

Allow me.

What?

No, allow me. I really insist.

A double, Bob.

You played a good game today.

Aye, he played a blinder.

Don't worry, he's a bit soft.

How'd you like the City?

I'm getting the hang of it.

I rather gathered that.

Pity about Gower.

What?

They took him to hospital.

I believe it was a broken nose.

Their hooker packs quite a punch.

Bad luck.

Yes, it is.

You haven't signed on yet?

They haven't made up

their minds yet.

I think they won't find that difficult.

Do you?

Goodbye, Frank.

Who was it?

You know, Frank.

Who was it, Dad?

Guess. Go on, have a guess.

Who was it?

That's mean.

That's mean.

Who was it, dad?

That's mean.

Why did you squeeze my wrist?

Don't know.

Why?

Was it Weaver?

You hurt me, you know.

Just because it's Weaver.

You get far too excited, lad.

I thought you knew it was.

I was surprised, him talking to me.

Must have been impressed.

You think there's something?

Aye.

Want me to come home with you?

It's no trouble to me.

Aye.

Come, have some tea.

Mrs. Hammond won't mind.

A coincidence, know her husband.

Yep.

Not well. Maybe a year afore he died.

Them not his boots, are they?

What she keep 'em for?

I don't know.

How long you lived here?

About five or six months.

She had kids, didn't she?

Aye.

How does she manage?

She does all right,

she does all right.

She just

put up the shutters

and stopped living.

My wife left me 10 years ago.

Can I have orange juice, Mum?

And me.

Isn't it warm, Mum?

Warm!

We can't use all that coal.

I'll fetch you a load from pit.

Mr. Johnson, Mrs. Hammond.

Lan and Lynda.

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