I get to the club at around five-thirty. Andy Murray is playing Andy Roddick in the Wimbledon semi-finals, he has just won the second set - he will go on to lose the next two sets on tie-breakers and fall out of the competition. There are a few people at the ground already, I recall hearing arrive at five-thirty to depart at six, but it appears the timing has been put back by a half-hour. People steadily arrive - many getting lifts, some choose to leave their cars for the weekend. The coach arrives and the increased amount of baggage is loaded aboard. I keep my travelling bag with me and board the coach, the first empty pair of seats is two rows from the back on the left-hand side. I don't usually sit that far back.
One of the players purchased a fresh supply of porn from his local corner shop, he doles the magazines out amongst those seated near him. It seems alien that anyone would spend money on pornography any more. The quarterback makes his way along the aisle handing out various varieties of doughnuts, it is a nice tradition. The coach is equipped with a DVD player and two televisions, one at the front and the second, smaller tv is about 3/8ths of the way down the coach on on the right-hand side. Someone attempts to play a DVD and there is no sound produced. A different DVD is tried with the same result. Someone suggests that the SCART lead is loose, no-one checks. We will have to entertain ourselves until the coach pulls into a service station for the drivers break, two and a half hours later.
I delve into my travelling bag and emerge with a book, Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy. I have read it before and it is an interesting, if tough read. Progress is slow due to the richness of the prose and the raucousness of the back-end of the coach. Some words I do not understand and I lack a dictionary, I try and discern their meaning from their context and carry on. Time passes and the sun slowly sinks towards the horizon. News, borne by the members of the team that own smart phones, begins to circulate that Murray has lost - missing the final on Sunday due to the return journey doesn't concern me any more. I make it through four chapters of the book and place it back in the bag.
We pull into a service station, thirty-something football players flood the terminal. Some head for the fast food stands first - KFC and Burger King, others - including myself, head for the toilets. After relieving myself, I consider the menu at KFC, the increased service station prices and the pasta which I had prepared earlier that day persuade me to abstain. I visit the store and look at the magazines, nothing leaps out and I pick up a copy of Private Eye - I have never bought it before and have always wondered what it is like. I also purchase a bottle of water and three Dime bars - my favourite type of chocolate bar and one that seems to have fallen out of mass circulation. I sit with the others in the eating area, two rookies are looking after Zippy and Bungle - the teams mascots. Bungle is now fitted out with a Keffiyeh. After a while we move outside and join the smokers, some more minutes pass before the driver exits the service station having finished his break, he is a mountain of a man. We re-board the coach at around nine-thirty, the sun has nearly set. The overhead lighting on the left-hand side of the bus refuses to work, there will be no more reading.
During the interval someone has fixed the DVD player and a film is brought from the back of the bus. It is Gangs of New York. I rummage in my bag and extract my mp3 player. Before setting off I had pruned the music packed onto the device in order to fill it with some podcasts that I had fallen behind on. I listen to one and then switch to some music, mostly Neil Young. I keep looking up and the film is still playing. The sun has set now, the coach winds it way through small roads carving their way amongst the hills - I assume there is not a motorway that leads to Edinburgh. Fields are divided in a ramshackle fashion, they either lie empty or contain sheep or cows. The livestock hunker together for the night. There are houses spread out along the road, none show signs of illumination. I recognise some of the surroundings from last years journey, we are getting close.
It is twelve-fifteen when we arrive at the hostel, we exit the coach and gather our belongings from the hold. Some take their pads and helmets into the hostel, most don't. I am in the first group to be awarded our room - we are in room D, we collect our key cards and haul our gear up four flights of stairs. There are mumblings from the front of the line - the key cards do not work, we all try our cards and none permit entry into the room. The cards are collected and taken to the reception for re-programming. Other groups file past and enter their rooms, they return past and head to the bar. Eventually the cards return and this time they are compatible with the locks. It is the same room that I stayed in last year however the beds have been rearranged. The bottom bunks are taken first and I am left with a top bunk on the left-hand side, we abandon our bags and head to the bar. A curfew of one-o'clock is placed by the senior players, this is sensible. Some of us have drinks and talk, others head to the pool tables. I have one beer and head to bed. The pillow provided may as well be non-existent and the cover is thin but overall it is perfectly adequate.
I wake up and it is early, I blindly fish around in my bag for my mobile phone - it is half past six. I lie still for a while and no-one else is moving. Eventually I get up and go for a shower in the communal bathroom. The shower is weak and cool but sufficient to wash the dank from my hair. Now clean and dressed I head to the bar which now serves as the breakfast room. Orange juice and water are on offer, a kettle of hot water with tea bags and coffee powder, some muesli and corn flakes. There is a toaster which operates using a conveyor belt, I cannot understand how to use it, luckily I do not like toast for breakfast. I pour some cornflakes and milk into a bowl and make a cup of tea, I cannot locate a bin so I leave the teabag in the cup to stew. I sit alone at a picnic bench, two backpackers are sat on the bench to my left and they discuss a group of drunken Americans they met the night before, it is an interesting tale. I finish my cereal and refill my cup with water and drink another cup of tea. I place my cup upon the area of the bar designated for dirty pots and head back to my room.
I meet a delegation from another room who are striking forth to get some breakfast. We exit the hostel and turn right, within one-hundred yards we come across a Greggs and this is decided as a suitable option. I buy a sausage and beans pasty. One of the group inadvertently steals a bottle of water. We return to the hostel bar and eat, it must be around nine o'clock now and more players trickle down and enquire about where the bakery is. We finish eating and decide to set out and explore the town. We walk down the main street which is currently scarred with a major construction project for a tram-line, I believe it was under construction when we visited the year before. We wander down the street and at an arbitrary point decided to head back, we use the small street which runs parallel to the main street - it is full of pubs with strange and crude names. We reach a T-junction and turn left which leads us back onto the main street, whilst passing McDonalds we notice a group of players in there and decide to join them. They finish their meal and decide to go for a wander, our group joins them and retraces the steps we took half-an-hour before. We walk further along the main street this time before turning back. I go into HMV with two other players, one buys an album. We head back to the hostel. It is around eleven a.m. We are due to leave the hostel for the ground at eleven-thirty. I fetch my kit bag down to the bar and settle down to watch some pool. A fellow receiver wants to go to the shop and I accompany him, we purchase pre-packed pasta salads, some bananas and bottles of water. The cashiers are unhelpful. We go back to the hostel and shortly after we leave.
It is a short journey. The ground is easily the biggest we play in during the regular season, the pitch is surrounded with a running track, hurdles litter the grass surround. A sandpit and a hammer-throwing cage stand in opposing corners of the ground. Their is a stand which looks like it could hold five thousand people, lower level seating follows the running track around the perimeter of the ground. There is a new complex at the far-end of the ground that will house the home team, we have to old changing room. To the right of our changing room is what looks like a giant television screen, however today it lies dormant. We file into the changing room and start to prepare for the match.
On the pitch outside a youth football game is concluding, it appears to be six-a-side. We gather on the sideline and start to throw the practice balls we brought with us around. My gloves reek of sweat from midweek training, I neglected to wash them. I catch most, I drop some. There is a man at a desk halfway up the stands - it has a form of PA system assembled upon it, he sporadically plays short snatches of music. When everyone has left the changing room we begin the standard warm-up and then break up into positional groups. It looks like a good passing day - there isn't much wind about and there are clear skies above, it was forecasted to be overcast and drizzling most of the day. I catch all the passes thrown at me apart from one, I am quite happy with that. The coaches call us in and talk us through the special teams personnel, the depth chart for the day and some uplifting, pre-game speeches. I am outside-contain on the right hand side of kickoff. I will get on the field at least once.
The other team wins the coin toss and chooses to defer their choice, so we get the ball first. The kickoff goes deep and our famous running-back catches the ball cleanly, he runs down the centre of the pitch and makes a cut towards the stand - away from our sideline, he disappears behind a mass of bodies and emerges on the other side, he outruns the kicker and continues to the endzone. The extra point attempt is good. It is a good start to the match. We go on to score five times from running plays in the first half - coaches game plan is to mix in passes until we get inside in the twenty-yard line and then switch to our wishbone formation and pound the ball in. The defense shut out the opposition. We are in a strong position at half-time. My kickoff duties go well on four of the five kickoffs - the returner goes to the other side or is tackled before making it to my edge. On the other kickoff the returner cuts sharply towards my sideline and the gunner has missed the tackle, instead of breaking down and letting the ball-carrier come to me, I break down and commit to the left - he cuts right and gets past me, my hand brushes his shoulder but I attain no purchase. The runner was tackled ten yards further downfield but that is no consolation. On the way off the field the special teams coach grabs my face mask and berates me, as he is right to do.
We retire to the concrete bleachers on the far side of the stadium, facing towards the main seating. I eat a banana and drink my water. Our four cheerleaders wander onto the field and we are expecting some sort of display. They keep walking and disappear into the main stand. Half-time is nearly over, we return to the field and perform some stretches to loosen us up again - I am unsure how effective this is. We kickoff and once again the opposition is pinned deep in their own territory. The second half is fairly uneventful, we fail to put any points on the board and a fumble by one of our fullbacks is returned for a touchdown - they fail the extra point attempt. With the two minute-warning having gone, myself and another rookie receiver get put onto the field. First and second down are run plays. On the first play my cornerback is looking into the backfield so I cut infront of him and block, the run doesn't get very far. On the second play the cornerback is focused on my so I outside release and run him off. The third play is a pass play - pro right four sit four. The corner is shading outside and I aim at his outside hip, at around 10 yards I break down and turn back to the quarterback. The ball is already on me, I get my hands up but only manage to knock it down. I should have gotten my head around quicker. I leave the ball on the floor and head back to the huddle, not recognising that it is fourth down. I recognise the other receivers coming in and jog off the field, it is a long way back. The coach checks that I am ok and tells me that I have to catch those ones, I agree. The opposition manage nothing with their final drive and time expires, we complete the usual after-game routine and wait to board the coach. We are now six and zero. Bottles of Coors-light start to appear, the heat sensitive label indicates that the beer is currently at a sub-optimal temperature - no one notices.
The coach heads to a sports bar where the other team has laid in on some food. The tables at the sports bar have interactive computer units upon them that allow internet surfing and the playing of a Playstation-2 soccer game. We find a unit that has two vaguely working controllers and play some games. I win the first against a fellow receiver 2-0 and lose to a running-back 4-3. By the time the second match is finished, the food upstairs is gone. We exit the sports bar and head back to the hostel, a sing-a-long of a Journey song is start, Bohemian Rhapsody is second and then some sort of call and response song is started. We return to the hostel and people begin an assault on the showers, we get dressed and convene in the bar before heading out. A majority are heading to pubs and clubs but a small group of us go to TGI Fridays, we are the hungry ones. I have some sort of bbq-chicken and an ultimate mojito, it is nice. We walk back towards the hostel and one of our number attempts to contact a fellow player, he does and we head over to meet up with him. He is in the bar section of Edinburgh - it is noisy and sweaty, outside there are cycle-powered taxis for ferrying the drunks around. Some of the group head off deeper into pub and club land, four of us return to the hostel to play some pool. I am already feeling the effects of the alcohol at this point - I have been mixing my drinks, I am becoming outgoing and talkative, yet my ability to speak is diminishing. We play pool at the hostel and I drink some more, I win one game by default, my performance otherwise is shambolic. I do not recall going to bed.
I wake up at six thirty. Construction work is underway again, the same as last year. The pneumatic ranting of drill flies through the air and through the permanently open windows of the dorm room, the clinking of thousands of bottles of alcohol being tipped into a recycling wagon accompany the rantings. I lie still for an hour or so and go for a shower, the single towel that I brought is already thoroughly damp but the shower washes the muck and stench out of my hair. I get dressed and locate my wallet, my drunken self stored it in a pocket of my kit bag, presumably to hide it from potential thieves and robbers. I go down to the breakfast area and have two glasses of orange juice, I don't bother with cereal or tea. I am about to return to the dorm and meet a scouting party about to depart in search of a substantial breakfast. We cross the street and find an upmarket eatery that is open, it faces the hostel. We all order identical meals - a full scottish breakfast and an energiser smoothie, this is due to the ease of saying 'the same as him' rather than all four of us selecting the combination individually. The food takes an age to be delivered and the drinks arrive not much sooner. We eat and then leave the money on the table for the waitress to collect, I am glad to get rid of a Scottish bank-note.
We head along the same street I traversed three times the day before. One of our number has a camera and he takes lackadaisical snapshots of the interesting features of Edinburgh, he attempts to eliminate the roadworks from the cameras focus but that task is nearly impossible. We travel further than I did yesterday, we stop at a McDonalds and all order large cokes. We continue to walk. We cross a bridge. It begins to lightly spittle and the clouds become darker. We keep walking and the rain intensifies. We take shelter in a gift shop, several other people do also. We admire the tshirts available for sale. We have taken shelter in the shop for as long as it polite to, we depart and head across the road to another gift shop. The proprietors of this establishment seem less friendly and inviting, the male behind the till seems almost confrontational. We look at the four inch tall teddy-bears, decked out in kilts and plastic bag pipes, they contain a musical electronic circuit and we push one, a terrible noise emerges from the small speaker. We push several more to see if they all contain the same tune and we create some hellish cacophony. We leave the shop. The rain continues to belt down. We make our way back to the hostel in a slightly hurried fashion.
It is eleven a.m. when we return to the hostel, I go to the room to round up my belongings and take them down to the bar. Some people are playing Wii Tennis, others playing pool. I go to the food shop and get a bottle of water and some bananas. I go back and sort out my travelling back. When everyone is assembled we head out, we hand in our key cards at the front desk. We board the coach and navigate our way out of Edinburgh, I change seats and sit slightly further forward on the right hand side. The journey back is unremarkable, I read some more of my book, some comedies are shown on the DVD player. Results from the Wimbledon mens final trickle in courtesy of those with Iphones - it has not been a Federer walkover. When we are close to Manchester I send a text message to my mother asking for a lift back home, she obliges. When we arrive back at the ground I take some of the loose footballs back to the lockup, the quarterback tosses me some passes, I drop a fair few of them - I am not concentrating very well. The lockup is locked up and we head back to the car-park. My mother pulls up in my sisters car, father must be out in her car. I put my gear into the cramped back and get into the passenger seat. We head home slowly. The Wimbledon final is still ongoing, Federer wins in the end.
