Obligatory Warning: Do not read if you are likely to be offended by description of gay sex, or if it is illegal for you to do so.
This story is purely fictional and does not imply anything about the sexual orientation of the English football (soccer) players depicted. ---------------------------------------------------------------------
Road to World Cup by Opengoal (opengoal@excite.com)
Chapter 1g
If You're Good Enough, You're Old Enough.
1.13
"Thank God you're here." Rio said when he opened the door for Macca who came to pick Joe up.
"What?" Macca was surprised. Rio had never really approved of their relationship.
Then he saw a distraught Joey by the window. Usually Joe would be happy just to see him, but this time Joe just looked away, as if he didn't want to see Macca at this time. Macca was perplexed because Joe had been blissfully happy when he gave him a morning call earlier today.
Rio lowered his voice to a barely audible level, "He just got wind..."
Macca shot Rio a knowing glance before he finished. Macca could imagine how hard the news had hit Joe. Joe had thought he got a realistic chance this time - at least of making the bench.
"Joey, I know how bad it feels. I'm not playing, either." Macca walked towards Joe as Rio left the two of them there.
"So, you knew too, didn't you? How long have you known?"
Macca hadn't expected Joe would say that. He went on with the words he'd planned to say, "None of us is happy with the line-up..."
"And what else?! I'm still too young, I need more experience... Tell me something I haven't heard before."
"Joey..." Macca reached out to him.
"Don't!" Joe stopped him. "Alright, I'm not playing, I can handle that. But I can't stand being fooled. All that time we're together, you knew, didn't you? And you did NOT tell me."
Macca's hesitation betrayed him.
Joe fought off Macca's hand and said, "Fuck off!"
Macca tried again to hold him but Joe just gave him a right-hander.
"I said, fuck off!"
Macca had never thought Joe would be so seriously angry. He had to think of something quick. "Go on. Hit me then."
No sooner had he said it than Joe threw his punch.
Had Macca reacted a fraction of a second later, the blow would have hit his face. He felt lucky he'd just managed to block it.
"Don't hit my face. Anywhere else is fine."
'Anywhere else is fine?' Joe almost laughed. Wasting no time in thinking, he hit Macca's stomach with all his strength.
Macca clutched himself. Joe could see the pain in him. In fact, he could almost feel it. 'But this is no excuse to let him get away with it, is this? Besides, he has asked for it,' Joe told himself.
The fury in Joe's eyes didn't diminish a bit. It seemed Joe wanted Macca dead. Yet Macca didn't back off or fight back. He just stood up straight again.
Joe threw more punches at Macca. Wild, aimless punches. Macca instinctively protected himself with his arms. But the blows were no longer as hard. Somehow Joe just couldn't hit him hard.
Joe felt stupid, pointless, and he stopped.
"Happy now?" Macca asked.
Joe laughed. "Looks like you enjoy it more than I do."
"You thought I was acting?" Macca pulled up his fleece shirt.
It looked bad. Joe had wanted to turn away but he didn't. He pretended he wasn't moved at all and touched Macca's reddened skin gingerly.
Macca winced.
"Serves you right." Joe acted as if he were about to press down on his wounds.
Macca glared at him.
He laughed.
Macca also laughed, but laughing hurt. "Would you listen to me now?"
"I don't want to hear those bollocks again. I won't forgive you for not telling me."
"Those were just speculations." Macca held him close. "And, besides, I was just stupid enough to have thought that we could change Kevin's mind."
Joe knew he would melt again, although he hated to be weak like that.
Macca gave him a kiss. "Now, are we going to hear the line-up from the man himself?"
1.14
The breakfast room was throbbing with unrest - Gerrard's injury had been leaked to the Press. The lads, divided as usual into small groups, were talking about that and possible changes to the team.
James only joined in the conversation with fake interest. His eyes kept darting to the entrance, wondering why Rio hadn't yet arrived.
Finally, the tall, slender young man appeared, well-groomed as usual. He strolled into the breakfast room with his natural elegance, and a dreamy look on his face, his mind seemingly miles away. Drawn into his dreaminess, James' mind drifted away too, albeit to a different dream.
But usually Rio only looked like that on the pitch, James suddenly remembered. He wished he knew what was bothering Rio.
"Alright?" James waved his hand just in case his voice alone could not grasp Rio's attention.
Rio greeted him back, smiling, as though nothing was wrong.
"Where's lil' Joe?" James asked by way of making a conversation.
"I don't think he's coming soon." Rio said without thinking.
"What's wrong?" James was glad Rio stayed there by his side instead of moving across the room.
Rio hesitated. But James' warm, friendly smile made him feel foolish to have even wanted to conceal such a trivial thing, "... I thought he knew he won't be taking part in the match, well, I thought everybody knew."
James sympathised.
"How did I know he didn't? Sure Macca knew it for ages." Rio wondered whether he had said too much again.
James paused, thinking about what Rio had just said. "They make quite a couple, don't they?"
Rio laughed nervously.
"Got plans for tonight?"
Rio was glad at first that James had changed the subject. But after realising what James could be hinting at, Rio was a bit startled, but he decided to play it cool. "What plans can I have? We're all stuck here."
"That's not what I've heard. It's quite a well-known fact Kieron and you haven't really held those rules with much respect."
"It's just... biological needs."
James flashed him a smile that said he understood. His smile then turned a bit devilish, "Perhaps you didn't need to look that far..."
Rio pretended he didn't hear and turned to talk with other teammates.
James smiled. He seemed to have a chance.
Now that he could finally get his mind off Rio for a while, he glanced around the room, checking out the people. He didn't really expecting anything or anybody would catch his eyes. But he was wrong.
There was something about Barry today. Whereas his understating grace used to blend him into the background, today you just couldn't miss him. There seemed to be an edge to his usual confidence. A seductiveness which shone through his gentle serenity.
An amused look came into Barry's eyes when he caught James staring. Barry wondered why he had thought James was out of reach. He held James' gaze, something he had never tried before. The smile in his eyes glowed with a sensuous, flirtatious flame.
Satisfied with the surprise and lust he stirred in James, Barry glanced away. James was tasty but he could have him at the club. Now, he'd hunt for someone from a different club.
Just when Michael thought he finally succeeded in concentrating on tomorrow's game, he was unsettled by Barry's gaze.
Michael didn't fail to notice the change in Barry but he was in no mood to think about that. He'd never had a more ominous feeling about a match.
If only Stevie weren't injured...
An inexplicable feeling of emptiness surged up inside him. He cursed himself for reminding himself of a feeling like this.
A loud hello from Robbie woke Michael from his thoughts.
It was Macca and Joe that Robbie greeted. Macca had his arm draped across Joe's shoulders, brotherly like.
Michael had tried not to notice the growing affection between Macca and Joe, but now he simply couldn't pretend he didn't see it. So Joe was the one Macca dumped him for?!
Michael couldn't help but laugh inside, although laughing didn't make it hurt less.
Didn't Macca use to lecture him on how careful they should be?
Michael knew he shouldn't still care, but when he looked at them, all the fun he had with Macca just came flooding back. He felt a dull ache inside at the memory of all the games they'd played - There had never been a boring moment with him.
Thankfully, Keegan's arrival saved him from having to look at them any longer.
1.15
The announcement of Southgate in midfield was met by gasps of disbelief. Confrontation with the manager didn't bring any satisfactory answer.
The atmosphere in training couldn't have been worse. Bewildered and frustrated, Robbie only went through the motions. He couldn't bear thinking about what disastrous result they would have, although that was almost the only thing he thought about.
Robbie was only distracted when he heard a small groan escape Macca's mouth.
Obviously, he had hurt Macca, his partner in the stretching exercise. Robbie didn't know he had used that much force. He blamed Keegan's crazy lineup. Otherwise he would've paid more attention to the stretching.
Robbie wanted to stop and ask Macca what was wrong, but Macca signalled to him to act like nothing happened.
Though perplexed, Robbie trusted Macca too much to think before doing just what Macca asked. Perfect partners in pranks, they had a special connection between them.
Robbie finally got a glimpse of Macca's injury when they returned to the dressing room. There was no doubt someone had beaten Macca up. Shocked and furious, Robbie screamed in his head, 'No one fuck with my mates!' He wanted to ask Macca who did it but Macca shut him up again.
He racked his brains searching for a hint of what had happened this morning. He remembered Macca had been well all the time he was with him.
Until Macca went to pick up Joe. But Joe's just a kid. It couldn't have been him.
Yet who else could it have been? Who else would Macca cover it up for?
1.16
Patience was not one of Robbie's virtues, but he waited until they were back in their room to ask Macca again. Macca must have his reasons, if Macca hadn't want to talk about it.
"Did Joe do this to you?" Robbie gave Macca a tube of pain-killing balsam.
"It's nothing serious."
Robbie couldn't believe his ears. "I'm going to beat the shit out of that little bastard."
"Lay off him."
Robbie moved towards the door, with a clear intent to kill.
Macca quickly got up to block his way. "Lay off him, Robbie. Listen. Just listen, will you? I LET HIM hit me."
Robbie looked at Macca, trying to search for a hint that Macca had been forced or threatened, or in any way unwilling. But Macca's face only confirmed what he had feared: Macca and Joe are together.
As if Robbie needed Macca's words to confirm this, Macca said, "Joe and I, we are, like..."
"I don't want to hear it." Robbie turned away.
"Robbie!" Macca waited 'til Robbie turned his face back towards him. "Are we still friends?"
"Macca..." Even if Macca weren't looking at him with those pleading eyes, Robbie would give anything just to keep their friendship. He wouldn't let anything spoil it, least of all that little stumpy bastard. "But how could you just suddenly say you l... I just don't understand it."
Macca lit up a cigarette, and offered him one which he declined.
"I'm not asking you to like him. Just be friendly, okay?"
Robbie sat there watching rings of smoke slowly coming out of Macca's mouth.
"How about Victoria?" Robbie asked, desperate to reason with Macca.
"I don't want her to know."
Robbie's eyes almost popped out in disbelief. Covering his face in disappointment, he didn't know what else to say.
Minutes passed by. There was a knock on the door.
Macca sprung up to get it at once, almost forgetting to put out his fag.
There was no doubt it was Joe, because Macca was joined in a liplock with this person the second they closed the door.
"Fucking hell, you're smoking?!" said Joe, choking on the smoke.
"Won't give us a kiss then?" Macca asked.
Joe pouted, and then pulled Macca close to snog him.
Robbie couldn't stand this sight anymore and let out a loud cough.
Joe immediately broke off the kiss and put his hands behind his back, like a kid caught by a teacher.
"It's just Robbie." Macca turned towards Robbie, his arms still around Joe. "There's no secret between us. You can trust him."
Robbie stared at Macca. Macca stared him back.
After a whole second, Robbie surrendered. He forced a smile towards Joe. Joe nervously smiled back.
Macca gave Robbie a 'thank you' smile, and then led Joe to his bed.
Robbie's eyes followed them to their bed, enjoying Joe's discomfort in being watched. He watched Joe pulling up Macca's shirt, touching the wounds on that normally marble-white stomach, and whispering into the ears which were always ready to hear whatever he had to say.
Macca joked and laughed, just like what he always does. Always fun to be with. Always livens up the room. Robbie wished Macca would go to the bar with him.
Now he could see Joe had loosened up too. Robbie didn't know what exactly he was angry at. He announced he was leaving, to nobody in particular. And nobody in the room could spare the time to say goodbye to him.
Congratulating himself on his luck, Joe felt safe and warm lying by the side of the man he loved. He was glad Robbie was gone so that they could enjoy some time alone. But he had also been thrilled at Robbie's presence because there could be no better proof that Macca was serious about him. Their love was so pure that he didn't know why he had ever doubted it.
Joe closed his eyes, enjoying Macca's gentle caresses on his hair. Before he was aware of it, he had drifted off into sleep.
Joe blushed profusely when Macca woke him up before dinner. To make up for lost time, they finished their meal as quickly as they could and scurried back to Macca's room. Slamming the door shut, they laughed at how daft they must have looked. But they didn't really care.
They dived onto bed, both knowing that this was going to be the night. But somehow, Macca's gaze of anticipation suddenly made Joe feel shy.
"Joey, we don't really have to..." Macca said.
Taking care not to touch Macca's wounds, Joe leaned over and showered Macca's mouth with playful short kisses.
Joy beaming from his eyes, Macca stuck his tongue out to lick Joe's succulent lips. Joe's tongue reached for Macca's, but Macca drew it back. They moved their tongues around, dodging and chasing and generally fooling around.
Just when Macca thought Joe would stop this mad chase, Joe suddenly pulled his head back. Macca tried to follow but only managed to hurt his waist.
"Alright?" Joe worriedly asked.
"Only if you get your mouth back here."
Joe wished they could kiss forever. Macca sucked lightly on Joe's tongue, making Joe moan. Joe didn't think his cock could get any harder. He wanted to tell Macca how much he loved him, but he didn't think any word in this world could do it justice.
Telling Macca to stay still, he stripped off all their clothes. He gave Macca's cock a jerk before moving his hand back up, surfing over the hardness of Macca's chest, tweaking those pink buds that were now erect to their fullness because of his touch. Brimming with tenderness and passion, Macca caressed up and down Joe's arm encouraging him to go on.
Pushing Macca's legs apart, Joe positioned himself between them and gave Macca's cock a kiss. He then brushed Macca's cock over his face, feeling the velvety texture of its skin, before licking it lovingly from the root to the tip.
Elated with Joe's love, Macca gasped when his cock was enveloped in Joe's hot moist mouth. He wanted to touch Joe but Joe just told him he was in charge tonight.
After sucking Macca for a while, Joe suddenly stopped. Curious, Macca wanted to get up but Joe told him to stay still. Joe straddled across Macca's hips and positioned Macca's cock at his opening. Macca was leaking more and more precum at the anticipation.
Afraid he would bottle out if he failed at his first attempt, Joe closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. Slowly lowering himself, he felt the cockhead slid in with ease.
"Oh, yes!" Macca said in a suppressed cry.
So thrilled at having done it, Joe slid the rest quickly in. The long pole sticking in his arse made Joe gasp in sweet agony.
"Does it hurt?" Macca asked, concerned.
"Not really." Joe was grinning so widely you'd thought he'd won the cup.
Filled with an amazing sense of completeness, Joe began bobbing up and down, riding Macca like a horse. Macca's long, slim dick didn't tear him apart like Shearer did but rather filled his tight hole just right, poking deep into him, to places never touched before. Every time Joe pushed down, it seemed to hit a magic spot in him, sending waves of sensations through his body. The pleasure was so pure and explosive that he couldn't control his outcry of delight.
Macca kept on caressing Joe's thighs as the athletic boy bounced up and down on him, his young prick swinging to the motion. Macca's hands wandered over and gave Joe's cock a tug from time to time, but Macca was too engrossed in his own sensations to give Joe a good wank.
Joe looked doubly hot when he was horny. Under the friction of his tight hole, Macca didn't think he would last long. Hot tides of passion rage through both of them. Joe moved faster and faster under Macca's urging. He felt that warning spasm charging through Macca's body. Envisioning Macca's cum spraying his gut, Joe couldn't help but fired his seeds too.
Joe pulled off and slumped to Macca's right side when Macca went soft. Macca lovingly combed Joe's sweat-soaked hair with his fingers. When Joe looked into Macca's eyes, he saw the same pure and wonderful joy reflected in them. If this weren't love, he didn't know what it could be. If only every day could be like this.
Joe thought back to these magic couple of days. They had been mere acquaintances before this training camp, and even two days ago he'd thought they'd be just casual friends when the match was over. But now... What would happen now?!
Joe suddenly panicked. What would they be when Macca returned to Spain after the England game?
Joe didn't know how to ask Macca, but he knew he had to.
"You haven't talked about your plans for the break." Joe said, with his most innocent look on his face. If Macca's plan for the short break between tomorrow and the away trip to Finland didn't include him, Joe knew what it meant.
Macca hesitated. Joe knew instantly what the answer would be. He had wanted an honest reply from Macca, but now he also wished Macca would care enough about him to lie.
"I wish I could be with you. But..." Macca said.
"But what?" Joe asked, his patience clearly gone.
"Victoria is coming..."
Joe felt hurt, stupid, humiliated. He wanted to ask Macca, 'What am I to you?' but his pride wouldn't allow him. He cursed himself for the fool he was. He actually thought Macca loved him.
But why would Macca really love him anyway? Why did Macca pick him? Because he was young and Macca knew he could use him. What could he mean to Macca, if he had to make way when Victoria was back?! He was just Macca's kept boy, someone he could fuck when the missus wasn't there, someone to keep him warm when he felt lonely.
He wanted to cry, but he would just appear more foolish than he already was. He wished there were a hole somewhere that would just swallow him down.
Gathering the pieces inside him, Joe got up, got dressed and proceeded to leave.
"Where are you going?" Macca stood between Joe and the door.
"Do I need to report to you wherever I go?"
"Don't get mad. I'll make her go back to Spain as soon as I can. Just wait up for one night."
"And then what? We'll fuck some more. And then we'll just shake hands and say goodbye 'til we meet again in the next England get-together?"
"I love you, Joey."
"I thought you did."
"I do, and I've always been." Macca held him with an intense loving gaze. "You're the only guy I've ever fallen in love with.
"But Joey, I can't just... It'll ruin us. It'll ruin YOU. You're still so young. Think about what you'll get, what you'll achieve. If the press gets to know this, then we are dead. It isn't really as much a problem of mine as yours. I've earned enough and almost done enough in this game. But you, you've got a bright future, you know that? Do you want to throw it away?"
Joe's eyes were all red but he was determined not a tear would drop. He scoffed, "What? I should get a girl too?"
Joe held up his hand to stop Macca talking. He took a good look of Macca for the last time and said, "I love you, Macca, and I mean what I say."
Joe put on a brave face and left. All he wanted was love. But perhaps that was exactly what was wrong.
1.18
The drinking session that had begun after training resumed after the dinner. Everybody was down at the hotel bar... except those starting tomorrow who had been ordered to go to bed. This was bad news for Barry though, because Becks and Michael wouldn't be there.
He had thought about going to bed early. But he couldn't sleep. Yesterday Graeme had opened up a whole new world for him. Although Graeme had not named any names, he did say there were some surprises and encouraged him to try his luck. When he got so close this afternoon when he was shooting pool with Becks. If only the Neville brothers hadn't suddenly shown up and snatched him away.
Here he was, at the bar, amidst half drunk teammates, still looking to score.
His eyes were drawn to James and Rio. James was showing off his drawing skills, sketching a caricature of Rio on a piece of scrap paper the barman fetched him.
Barry had no doubt James was intent on getting into Rio's pants. With the two so absorbed in playing their little cat-and-mouse game, Barry didn't think he had much chance with either of them.
It took some effort to tear his gaze from that pair. But when he glanced away, he found Carragher ogling at him.
Carragher?
Barry returned the gaze, just to check the spark of interest he saw in his first glance was really there.
Barry felt Carragher's gaze bore into him. Carragher was no oil painting but he was sexy in a rough and aggressive sort of way. With massive shoulders, long sinewy legs and a tough-looking face, his lean, big frame exuded power and virility. After Graeme's gentleness, maybe it'd be nice to taste something different.
Carragher had made up Barry's mind for him. He sat down on the seat next to Barry, touching him not very cleverly resting his hand 'casually' on his lap,.
Carragher's clumsiness almost made Barry push his hand away but this was probably Barry's last chance to score for today.
Besides, he was also a bit interested in finding out whether Carragher was half the sex machine he claimed to be.
Carragher's hand was stroking his thigh now. He wondered what would come next.
"You're drunk." Carragher whispered into Barry's ear.
Barry gave him a look asking 'What?'
"You're drunk. You want to go back to your room."
Barry finally got what Carragher was driving at and excused himself. Carragher volunteered to help him upstairs.
"So where are we going?" Barry asked Carragher when they reached their floor.
"My room. Or do you prefer yours?" Carragher asked. But they were heading for Carragher's room already.
"No, Gareth's in... Erm, has your roommate gone out?"
Carragher laughed, as though Barry was stupid to have asked such a question. He turned the doorknob and let themselves in.
"Barmby's here." Barry nervously said.
"He's asleep."
Barry still wasn't assured, but Carragher had locked the door.
"We haven't got all day." Carragher stepped forward, now just a breath away from him, and began stripping off.
Barry took off his shirt too, albeit much more slowly. There was something in Carragher's lustful but dreamy gaze that was unnerving him.
Carragher couldn't take his eyes off Barry's smooth, milky skin. Barry would be a girl if he looked any prettier. His delicate pink buds that had now tensed up looked almost inviting. The fear he was trying to hide had unknowingly stirred up Carragher's inner savage fire.
Carragher was naked in a flash. Though still nervy, Barry allowed himself to be distracted by the sight of Carragher's impressive half- hard cock. He comforted himself, this might be a good night after all.
Impatient, Carragher pulled Barry into his arms and forced his lips on Barry's. Barry tasted like beer. So did he.
Trying to pretend he wasn't an inexperienced kid, Barry kissed him back and pulled his hips close. They were locked together, chest to chest, nipples rubbing nipples. Barry felt a stir in Carragher's groin when he sucked his tongue. Carragher grabbed Barry's butt and kneaded them through the flimsy fabric of his shorts.
Carragher brought Barry to his bed and pressed his lips on Barry's mouth again. The intensity of his kiss took Barry's breath away. Through the haze of the drug, Barry seemed to look a hundred times hotter than he already was. Carragher wanted nothing more than kissing him and fucking him like mad.
Carragher's kiss moved to Barry's nipples. His hands swooped down to Barry's crotch. Barry was as hard as he was. He rolled Barry over and kissed his back, his hands sweeping all over Barry's smooth, youthful skin.
He yanked down Barry's shorts, revealing Barry's perfectly shaped globes. Barry spread his legs as Carragher's fingers traced down the centre of his back to the trough between the big, round globes. When Carragher rubbed the wrinkled muscles of his opening, the memory of the tongue-bath Graeme gave him yesterday came back to him. He raised his butt involuntarily.
Carragher continued massaging the muscles there while fetching a condom. As soon as he put it on, he rammed into Barry unannounced.
A burning pain seared through Barry's bum. Out of reflex, his hole closed at the sudden intrusion, which made him hurt even more. But when he realised he was crying out, he bit the pillow to stifle his groan. The last thing he wanted now was to attract an audience.
Carragher didn't give him time to get used to a cock stuffing up his arse, but started plugging away already.
Barry felt like he was being split open. "Stop, Jamie, Stop!" He whimpered. He didn't dare raise his voice.
Carragher simply said, "Can't."
Barry's struggle made Carragher feel as though he were raping him, which only added to the excitement. He pinned Barry down with his powerful build until Barry gave up this futile fight.
"Don't you just want this, pretty boy?" Carragher thought aloud.
Barry hated it but he couldn't ignore the thrilling sensations that were coming through the pain. And they were coming on strong. He'd never thought Carragher could be so good. He just kept going and going. There seemed to be limitless strength in his legs. Barry didn't know when he'd started working his hips to the rhythm of the thrusting. Through the thrilling sensation, Barry thought he seemed to hear Carragher muttering something, although he couldn't make out what it was. But he couldn't care less.
Carragher mumbled a bit louder. Only now did Barry notice Carragher's uttering was really incomprehensible. He must have taken something. Barry instantly reprimanded Carragher in his head for this unprofessional and irresponsible behaviour. But come to think of it, what they were doing right now wasn't that much better. Barry laughed it off and concentrated on the more practical matter of getting off. Abandoning himself to the whirl of pleasure spiralling through him, he felt he was coming close. He wanted so badly to touch himself but Carragher's weight kept him away from it.
Carragher was thrusting faster and faster now. Barry heard himself urging him on, telling him to push harder, right till the both of them exploded in a downpour of fiery delight.
Barry extracted himself from the big man, who was now fast asleep. He shot a glance at Barmby on the other bed. He hoped Barmby was really sleeping as soundly as he appeared to be, although it seemed unlikely.
The passion now gone, emptiness, pain and sweat was all he felt. Looking at the mess he'd got himself into, he only wanted to get out of there right away. Soaked with Carragher's and his own sweat and cum, he needed a shower really badly but he only wiped himself clean with the sheets.
The moment he closed the door, he saw James staring at him with undisguised curiosity. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."
James stepped closer, amused like a cat playing with a mouse. Barry smelt like sex, which confirmed his intuitive suspicion of why he emerged from Carragher and Barmby's room. James wondered if Barry had actually done it with both of them. Noting how jaded Barry looked, James decided to give him a break.
1.19
Rio collapsed onto his bed as soon as he got back to his room. Joe was already in a sound slumber.
The joy of young love, Rio couldn't help but sighed in his head.
Maybe he should be happy for Joe. It's 21st century, for fuck's sake. It shouldn't matter if it's a bloke or...
Rio couldn't continue because the word 'bloke' conjured up the image of James, which wasn't something he was ready to think about yet. He closed his eyes and escaped to dreamland.
The tear stains on Joe's face and pillow should fade away by the next morning. No one would ever know he had cried his eyes out. No one needed to know.
Saturday came. England failed like they had all feared. With Keegan's shock resignation, Joe didn't need to explain his sudden depression to his family during his break at home. He just didn't know how he would be able to face Macca again when they gathered for the Finland trip.
End of Chapter 1
Opengoal opengoal@excite.com
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