Roy of the Rovers - A New Beginning - Week 24 - Football Comic Fiction

7/22/2019 Roy of the Rovers - A New Beginning - Week 24 - Football Comic Fiction

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Roy of the Rovers – A New Beginning

Week 24

“Why did you think you could cross me? I’m no mug!” Trevor Brinsden swung a big overhand right,

crashing his fist into the left cheek of Javier Acosta. The young Colombian yelped in pain and tugged

on his restraints. Brinsden had lured his employee to one of the anonymous industrial units that

housed thousands of pillow cases, sheets and such. The two men were in the basement in a disused

room filled with boxes and trolleys of soiled, unusable bed ware. Trevor was prowling around in

circles, Javier was tied to a chair at the wrists and ankles with parcel tape, surrounded by a makeshift

enclosure tall enough for no-one to see in. “Are you going to kill me?” asked the captive, sweat

dripping from his brow. Trevor did not answer, but again struck with a powerful punch.

The co-chairman of Melchester Rovers took a step back and fumbled in his trouser pocket for his

pills. “I need control. I can’t do things like this any more,” Trevor whispered under his breath,

“Mister Trevor please let me go. I have done nothing to hurt you,” Acosta was begging, that would

not impress Brinsden, “Nothing to hurt me? You idiot, I know everything that you’ve been doing;

working for John Lucas, trying to expose me! Me,

someone who gave you a job; my people who found

you a place to live! You were greedy my friend and

now I will make you pay. You see I’m insecure and if I

don’t take my medication I can do crazy things; like

this!” Trevor crouched down and opened a sports

holdall, he reached inside. Acosta screamed at the

top of his voice. Trevor stood upright holding the

terrifying object.

The metallic bit whirred as Brinsden held down the

drill’s trigger, “What are you going to do, man? No!

No!” A bloodcurdling scream filled the warehouse asTrevor pushed the drill through Acosta’s left ear and

into the plastered wall. A mixture of blood and white

flakes decorated Trevor’s dark blue shirt. As he

repeated the sick process on the right ear, he

whispered insanely, “Your man Lucas should have

told you how crazy I am. But no he just used you, and now you’ll find out for yourself.”

Acosta drifted into unconsciousness, the pain too much. Trevor slapped him across the face,

knocking the tied up body and chair over into a heap on the dusty concrete floor. He put the boot in,

three, maybe four times, perhaps more and left placing a pile of boxes across the entrance to

Acosta’s prison. He put an anorak on over his bloodied shirt and calmly haied a passing taxi. Trevor

Brinsden had lost the plot, again, and this time he knew he must flee, no notes, no telling anyone. It

would be days before anyone found Javier Acosta so he had time, he made last minute foreign trips

regularly, so his plan to get to Melchester Airport and fly out this afternoon would not be unusual.

At his apartment, Trevor gathered a suitcase of prized possessions, mostly Melchester Rovers

memorabilia, his Rocky Race World Cup ’98 shirt, a signed 1978 Johan Seegrun European Cup

winner’s jersey and a few more bits and bobs. He could buy new clothes, but he knew he would not

be returning to this house for some time, if at all.

* * *

Vernon Eliot was disappointed but not entirely surprised when he received an urgent telephone call

from David Roth, “I’m sorry Vernon, but the transfer money just hasn’t materialised. You’ve got

about seven million, from the sale of Van Den Broeck after the deduction of the loan fee for



McKaffree. I’m so sorry I really thought Trevor had secured a decent amount.” Vernon had learnt

only the week before that he would likely have fifteen million pounds to spend in the last week of

the transfer window and he had adjusted his targets accordingly. Now his scouting and inquiries

were useless and he had so little time to rethink. He had added three players to the first-team

squad, Thomas Carruthers, Kelvin Dickson and Declan McKaffree and with Fabrice N’Diaye, Steve

Daley and Richie Lyons now fully fit, he was happy with the depth of his squad. For seven million

pounds he could not add anyone who would improve his team, “Don’t worry it about it. I won’t be

spending anything, unless I can arrange a few more loans, but I doubt I’ve time.”

Vernon hung up the phone in his office and called out for Gerry Holloway, his assistant manager,

“Gerry, we’ve no money, man! Brinsden couldn’t get it sorted.” Gerry, like Vernon, was not shocked

at all, “He’s dodgy that bloke. I know his hearts in the right place and he is a real fan. But I never

expect anything when he gives us a promise. I think sometimes his passion overrules his brain and he

just tells us what he wants to hear as a supporter. I’ll get on the phone and see if there’s any good

loanees available.” Holloway trotted off to find his European player dossier, a binder that contained

detailed reports, statistics and contact details of hundreds of top European players. The next six or

seven hours would be spent trawling through his files and calling managers around the continent.

The Melchester Rovers manager was more concerned with the weekend match against WalfordRovers at Mel Park. With a full strength squad to choose from, it was now time to address the slump

in form that followed a nine match unbeaten run. Now Rovers were on an equally bad run of seven

straight defeats, that saw them drop from the top of the league after fifteen matches to seventh

after twenty-one. Big questions were once again being asked, the national press were all over

Vernon, with pages dedicated to slamming his tactics and the performances of his senior players.

Drew Powell in particular was being hammered by John Lucas, in Vernon’s opinion totally

unjustified, but he had made a number of high profile errors and his individual statistics showed that

his passing percentage was way below what it was during the winning streak. Vernon had invited

Derek Mostin for a brief meeting to discuss the

young Welsh midfielder, hoping that Mostincould find a solution to Powell’s problems.

With the help of Holloway’s special heat maps

showing areas where a player had possession

Mostin had noticed clear differences in his

positional play; “Look Vernon, against

Burndean at the weekend, the first diagram,

he was so deep, it was similar against Carford

and against all the better sides going back to

Kelburn and Melboro’. The bottom diagram

shows him against Everpool, again it was

similar for most of the games in our unbeaten

run. It’s obvious isn’t it? When Drew Powell is

disciplined, but moving to join the attack up

the left side, we play well. Against Burndean he

was following the ball towards the right. You

can see that he didn’t get forward into that

inside left position at all. I don’t think Powell is

the problem, Vern. I reckon it’s Batty, I think

Batty was overrun and Drew was covering him.

Yes he left gaps that were exploited and wasn’t

disciplined in his own position, but if Batty can improve his form then Powell will follow. We always

talk about partnerships at centre-back, up front and between wingers and full-backs, but it’s just as,

if not more important in centre-mid.” Vernon nodded his agreement, he was ready to drop Powell



and move Cheetham back into the deeper role. Now he would drop Batty and bring in Tommy Tonks

for his first Premier League start of the season.





Storky Knight

NEXT – Rovers are back to winning ways, can Declan McKaffree lead Rovers to victory at Oldfield

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Roy of the Rovers - A New Beginning - Week 24 - Football Comic Fiction