“Come on – a team full of kids?”
He shrugs.
“I’m a famous sportsman.”
“Youwerea famous sportsman.”
“Stop rubbing salt into the wound.”
“Listen, I didn’t want to mention this, but seeing as we’re talking about it…”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re thirty-eight.”
Almost thirty-nine – but I don’t need to mention that.
“How much longer could you have played for?”
“I’m still in good shape.”
He stares pointedly at me.
“I mean, I’m not training at the moment, but I could easily get back to it.”
“You’re old.”
I shake my head violently.
“You should’ve quit…when? Last year?”
“You don’t know that.”
“Then what would you have done?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
“You’re not a teenager anymore: but you have one to take care of.”
“Are you trying to find a nice way to call me self-centred?”
“You said it, not me.”
“I could’ve given her a better future in Dublin.”
“I don’t think your daughter really needs the kind of future you were planning on giving her, there. She needs a father, a family; she needs stability.”
“You’re trying to convince me to take the job.”
“I just want you to think about it. It’s your decision.”
“I can’t go back and see her again; not after everything I said last time.”
“I don’t want to know.” He raises his hands and steps away, towards the fridge, and pulls out two energy drinks. He throws one in my direction before opening his own and taking a few sips.
“I was an arse.”
“I’m sure you’ll make it right. You can use your famous ‘moves’ and seduce her. I mean, it worked the other day, didn’t it?”
