Philip Kerr - False Nine

Paolo Gentile laughed. ‘I still have a bottle of that piss in my drawer. Every so often I have a sniff of it to remind me of my spotty adolescence. Like Proust. There’s even talk of a commercial with the Zaragoza Bank. One of the biggest in Europe.’

‘Did Dumas know about all this sponsorship?’

‘Of course. I called him just before he went on holiday to tell him the good news about da Varano. And I might have mentioned the bank.’

‘But is that how he took it?’

‘How do you mean, Scott?’

‘That this was good news?’

‘He’s a footballer. They have a limited shelf-life. You can be Peter Pan for only so long in this game. Unless it’s David Beckham we’re talking about these guys have got ten years at most to make their money, after which — for most of them, at any rate — it’s a trip to the bankruptcy court or running a guest house in Skegness. Often both. It’s an agent’s job to maximise the client’s earnings while he can. You know how this works. If only he’d had the sense to marry that nice girl. What’s her name? Bella something. Isn’t she great?’

‘Bella Macchina. She’s fucking gorgeous.’

‘I could have turned them into the next Brand Beckham. The salt and pepper David and Victoria. That’s what he wanted.’

‘I can’t believe you just said something like that. And to me.’ I grinned. ‘I’d forgotten what a fucking racist you are, you old wop.’

‘Don’t be so sensitive. I could probably do something very similar for you, Scott, if you’d let me. The black Mourinho. Something like that. You’re just not paying attention to who and what you are. To the value of your own brand. You’re not the cleverest man in football, Scott. I am. But you do have a brain and that’s unusual in this game. You’re a good-looking guy, too. You could be the face of something yourself.’

‘Jérôme Dumas. We’re straying from the subject. Again. What I’m trying to find out is, did he feel under pressure because of all this shit? I mean, here’s a kid who thinks he’s Russell fucking Brand, leading the French fight against capitalism, and you’re trying to turn him into the preferred tool of the big brands and the bankers, for Christ’s sake. This is a boy who went on demos, Paolo. These are the people who smash the windows of banks, not plug them on the telly.’

‘Which is precisely why this particular bank wanted him. To sell the idea that their bank listens to the people and gives them the service they want.’

‘They all say that.’

‘I know. But advertising agencies exist to help them say it more persuasively than anyone else.’

‘They all say it while paying their employees big bonuses and evicting people from their mortgaged homes. Yes, I get what’s in it for them.’

‘You don’t believe that. You’re not that naïve.’

‘No, of course I’m not. What I’m trying to point out is that even he might have started to feel like a hypocrite. Which creates its own pressure. The week after there’s an article in Libération in which he’s espousing Maoist revolution, you’re trying to sell him as the public face of a bank. The week after that article, Jérôme Dumas gives an interview to L’Equipe bemoaning the fact that he’s not loved by the fans. Small wonder. From what I’ve read online most fans wanted less politics and more goals.’

‘I didn’t see the piece in Libération .’

‘Maybe you weren’t paying attention.’

‘I’m his agent, not his nanny. I’m there to advise him, not wipe his nose. Ever since he went to Monaco I’ve been there to show him that football is a business and that it’s important to treat it as such. Because nobody is as smart as everyone, especially in retrospect. Right at the beginning I told him to find himself a role model from football and try to live up to this person’s image, model himself on them. We went through a book I have, of exemplary footballers. And he picked another former Monaco player, Thierry Henry. Sure, I was able to tell him a few home truths about how he’s perceived in the media. It was me who persuaded him to take on Alice as his PA, and to get her to start managing his social media. And to keep an eye on him generally.’

‘You mean she spied for you?’

‘Not in a bad way. We managed to avoid a lot of calamity tweets like that. Twitter is a bloody minefield.’

‘Anything else you’re not telling me, Paolo?’

‘She was supposed to tell me if he started gambling again, that’s all.’

‘Gambling?’

‘When he was playing in Monaco he got a taste for playing cards. I had to sort out some poker debts he had. Nothing that hasn’t happened to a host of other players.’

‘Debts to who?’

‘Some bookmakers.’

‘Legit bookmakers?’

‘Of course legit. It wasn’t anything heavy duty. Listen, Scott, I looked out for that boy. I went to his mother’s funeral in Marseille. Just to make the numbers up otherwise it would have been only Jérôme who was there. That’s above and beyond, you know.’

‘How did he take it?’

‘No better or worse than I took my own mother’s passing.’

‘You had a mother? I never knew.’

Paolo smiled a sarcastic smile.

‘Were they close?’

‘Not especially. In fact I gained the impression that there was some issue between them. I think he took against her for some reason. But I don’t know what that might have been. For a man who talked about himself a lot he managed to say very little. I never gained an impression of who he really was. Or thought he was.’

‘Most young blokes are like that. Especially in football. Sometimes, with all the training and the games and the media, there’s no time for introspection. Most of them think inner space is the title of a movie directed by Christopher Nolan. They start playing, make money, ten years pass — as you say — and then they wake up one morning, unemployed, with bills to pay and not the first idea of what makes them tick. That’s probably the one moment when you really do need an agent. Someone to counsel you on what to do next.’

‘We’re quite a long way from that. The boy is just twenty-two. Look, I don’t have to justify myself to you, Scott. My conscience is clear. I couldn’t have done more for him. If he’s had some sort of breakdown I shan’t hold myself to blame in the least bit. I watched his games on the telly, of course. Went to one or two when I was in Paris. Told him what I thought of his game. Believe me, Scott, I love the game. I have a season ticket at Verona. And take my word for it, you’ve got to love the fucking game to have a season ticket for the scaligeri . Tell you what — the next time you’re in Italy, I’ll take you to the Marcantonio Bentegodi to see a match. Preferably against Chievo — the other club in Verona. You know, I’ve always thought you’d be just the man to put us back where we belong. Up there with the Milans and Juventus.’

‘Let me tell you something about your client, Paolo. If he did pick Thierry Henry as his role model then it wasn’t working. Frankly he might just as well have picked Joey Barton or Mario Balotelli. The more I look into this kid’s life the more I begin to see how close to disaster he actually was.’

‘You’re exaggerating, surely.’

‘I don’t think so. Between you and me he was using drugs and prostitutes like his two middle names were Charlie Sheen. Bella dumped him because she found a sex toy under his bed. He bought a gun off some gangsters in one of the banlieues . He was clinically depressed and using happy pills. And now, on top of all that, you tell me he used to have a gambling problem. It seems to me that there are two Jérôme Dumas. Maybe three. There’s the Dumas who plays football for PSG and fancies himself as a man of the people and a bit of a street philosopher. Then there’s the guy who’s down with the gangs who likes hookers and dope and guns. And somewhere in between these two slices of bread is the advertising brand you were trying to turn him into. The black David Beckham. The face of a bank and an Italian fashion label. Talk about a false nine. This guy is the false nine to end all false nines.’