Philip Kerr - False Nine

‘Oh, it’s simple enough. You see, I — my club — was about to hire two new players from English clubs to come and play for us in a few months’ time. At the end of your season. These two players — who are household names, I might add — they may have been finished in your Premier League but they would have been paid top wages and would, almost certainly, have given us the edge over all our rival teams. Not to mention some significant marketing opportunities. However, your press conference has put paid to that, I imagine. No one in their right mind is going to sign for Nine Dragons when the evening newspapers print the story about you walking out on us before you’d even started. Even for a hundred thousand pounds a week. You were very eloquent, Mr Manson. Your signing-on fee was not paid. Your accommodation arrangements were dishonoured. There were some calculated insults. Racism. Those new players who would have come are black. No, I’m afraid it all makes us look as if we’re not to be relied on for a moment. Wouldn’t you agree?’

I nodded. ‘But who would do something like that?’

‘This is Shanghai, Mr Manson. Back in the mid-nineteenth century this city gave its name to a slang word used by seamen which means to steal, borrow, kidnap and not bring back, but frankly little has changed since then. There’s a lot of sharp and underhand work that goes on here which passes for normal business practice. Ethics and business do not yet go hand in hand like they do in London’s square mile.’

‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that.’

‘Oh, I accept that things are not perfect in London. But however imperfect they might seem to you, Mr Manson, by comparison this place is the wild west. There are regulations but they are not enforced and if they are, a bribe can easily fix things. Being a wealthy man — one of the wealthiest in Shanghai — it’s fair to assume I have my share of enemies, not just in business, but also in the world of football. Sportsmanship is not something that we have yet learned to appreciate here in China. There is winning and not much else. A top four finish may be good enough for Arsenal but it is not good enough here. In Chinese we have a saying: second place is just a sore loser’s word for failure.

‘No, if I had to guess, I’d say it was one of my Chinese Super League footballing rivals who have tried to scupper our chances of hiring top European talent. Most likely Shanghai Taishan who are our most bitter opponents. I might almost say “Forget it, Jack, it’s Chinatown”, except that I’m afraid I can’t forget this. I’m sorry to tell you that we’ll have to call another press conference where you admit your mistake. Tomorrow. Here in this hotel. In the same conference room. You can leave the arrangements to me. There will be loss of face but this is the Chinese way. To admit you were wrong. You can tell everyone you were duped and then eat some shit. Just make sure you don’t say something like “all Chinese look alike”. That will only make things worse.’

I shook my head. ‘He didn’t look like you,’ I said. ‘Then again, we weren’t sure what you look like. There are no pictures of you on Google.’

‘As much as possible I try to remain out of the limelight, Mr Manson. My appearance on Bloomberg was a first for me. ’

I walked to the window and stared out at the awful landscape of skyscrapers and neon signs. If this was the future then they were welcome to it and, for the first time since walking out on London City in Athens, I wished I hadn’t been so principled. I missed London and I especially missed the lads in my team, which was still how I thought of them. It was the first Saturday in January. City had a derby against Arsenal and I would have been picking my first team players and preparing my pre-match talk. This was the time of year when any manager in English football came into his own — when it really mattered what you said and did. It’s the hardest job in the world to motivate players who are knackered from too much football and know they’re risking injury because of the midwinter madness that prevails in the English game. It can’t be denied that there were too many fixtures between Christmas and New Year. The Germans manage to close down for forty days, which makes a lot more sense than what we do. Even the football crazy Spaniards and Catalans manage to take thirteen days off.

Only in Britain did the clubs and more importantly the television companies treat the game like it was some kind of pantomime. The show must go on, and all that bullshit. Perhaps this had been all right back in the day when the game was played on mud at a snail’s pace — as at the Baseball Ground in 1970 — but these days the pitches were as fast as billiard tables and it’s speed that causes most of the injuries in the modern game. Of course it was the injury to me and my reputation that ought to have been occupying my thoughts now. I was going to be a laughing stock. Viktor Sokolnikov’s newspaper — his latest toy — would make sure of that.

‘And if I don’t?’

‘I’m afraid I must insist. And more importantly for you, my lawyers will insist upon this, too. A top English firm. Slaughter & May. I imagine you’ve heard of them. Mr Manson, I sincerely hope you can understand just how generous I have been already, in coming to you in person like this to explain your unfortunate mistake. I could have placed the matter in the hands of the police and alleged a criminal conspiracy to defame both me and my company. And you would almost certainly have been arrested. But a public apology will be enough for now. Afterwards, when the dust has settled, we can discuss how you can make the matter up to me. It may be that there’s some sporting service you can yet do me.’

I nodded. ‘Very well. Look, I’m sorry. I really don’t know what else to say right now. I’m not usually lost for words. Perhaps when I stop feeling like a complete idiot I’ll be able to think of something.’

‘Perhaps it would help if I had my lawyers draw up a statement for you to read tomorrow. I shouldn’t like you to say nothing at all out of sheer embarrassment.’

‘Yes. That would help. You’ve been very gracious about this, Mr Jia. I can see that now.’

‘Thank you.’ He paused. ‘You’re sure you can do this?’

I nodded. ‘Oh, I’m used to looking like a complete twat in front of the television cameras. Why did we lose? Why didn’t we play better? Why did I make such a stupid mistake? When you’re a football manager, sucking it up — it sort of comes with the territory.’

Trying to avoid the English newspapers, I spent the next two weeks staying with my parents, at their chalet in Courchevel 1850 and Skyping Louise, who was busy anyway with her police work. Thanks to the Russians Courchevel is one of the most expensive resorts on earth where a simple omelette in a restaurant can cost as much as thirty euros. I skied — badly — read a lot, drank too much and watched the telly. My dad calls it a telly; actually it’s more like your local cinema, with a high-definition screen and projector and short of standing in your technical area, it’s probably the best way to watch football that has ever been invented.

The only downside is having to listen to Gary Neville, who doesn’t seem to have a good word to say about anyone and just isn’t very personable — as you might perhaps expect of a defender. I should know. I’m not very personable myself. Sometimes I make Roy Keane look like a game show host.

‘I don’t think it’s right,’ said my dad, ‘that you can stop playing for a top team and then be allowed to comment on top team matches. There’s a clear risk of bias. One week you’re United’s most loyal player, and the next you’re Sky’s pundit and commentator? Piss off. Yes, you bring expertise to the commentary team but you can’t just put away the feelings of rivalry and animosity you have for Arsenal or Manchester City, nor the opinions you have about certain players. It’s like asking Tony Blair to take charge of Newsnight and then have him ask George Osborne about Conservative economic policy. It can’t be done fairly. To my mind there should always be a cooling-off period. At least a season before you’re allowed on the telly.’