James Kelman - A Chancer

What you talking about!

You’re fucking. .! The winger shook his head and trotted off down the touchline.

Tammas trotted after him. But this time the player taking the throw in shied the ball towards the middle of the park. From the touchline Donnie called: No bother Tammas!

Tammas made no response. His breath was coming in short gulps. He coughed to clear his throat and spat while breathing out. He put his hand to his chest and coughed again. The ball was with the forwards in his team and he set off trotting as far as the halfway line where he stopped and looked on. The ball had gone for a goal kick. The opposing left back booted it out and down the middle, where it was booted straight into the path of the big left winger who raced onto it at once, arms flailing and head downwards. Tammas was across to meet him immediately. Some yards from him the winger looked up but he kept on running as though to go right over the top of him but at the last moment he flicked the ball inside and made to carry round Tammas on the outside but Tammas went in the same direction and took the full force of the winger crashing into him. They both fell heavily and Tammas lay winded for quite some time.

The referee had blown for a foul against him. The man in charge came on with Donnie and soaked Tammas’s neck and forehead with a wet sponge. Unlucky there son, he was saying.

Tammas nodded, easing his breathing as Donnie placed his hands on his chest and counted slowly. When the man had returned to the touchline Tammas gasped: I’m fucked.

Donnie shook his head. You’ll be alright man, just get your second wind.

Tammas looked at him; then he moved his head to see the big winger hobbling into position for the free kick. Donnie helped him to his feet before returning to the touchline. Tammas walked after the winger, studying his right thigh as he went; it was bruised quite noticeably and some gravel seemed to be stuck in it.

The winger had his hands on his hips, he did not look in Tammas’s direction, keeping his attention on the player taking the throw in.

The ball was shied to the rear and one of the opposition struck it high into the air, away to the far wing.

At half time he lay at the touchline with his hands clasped behind his head, a few yards away from the rest of the team. Donnie handed him the cigarette but he had no matches and Donnie had none either. He got up, he walked down to the other team; one of their supporters was smoking; Tammas received a light from him.

When he returned the guy called Paul passed him a piece of orange and asked, How’s it going?

Ah okay.

Quite a hard game.

Aye.

Paul grinned at the cigarette: Give us a drag eh?

Tammas handed him it then he lowered down to sit on his heels, he ate the orange.

Donnie came over. How you doing?

Tammas shrugged.

That winger’s no going near you now!

Naw.

See if we can keep it nothing each. .! Donnie laughed briefly. They’ll be asking you to turn professional!

Hh. Tammas turned his head, glanced at the other player who had a last puff on the fag before giving him it back.

•••

He was limping slightly when he arrived in the lounge bar that evening. Rab and Rena and Betty were sitting waiting on him. Betty smiled and pointed at Rab: That’s the two of you — he hurt his knee!

Aye, said Rab.

Tammas grinned. He remained standing, his hands on the edge of the table. I saw your result in the paper — hard lines.

You no sitting down? asked Betty.

Eh. . he frowned. We dont have that much time.

Rena laughed: I’m really excited!

So she is! chuckled Rab. Then he glanced at his wristwatch: Sure you cant have a pint?

Eh. .

Go on, said Rena. I feel like another martini. So does Betty.

Aye okay then.

Tammas had sat down on the spare seat beside Betty but when Rab rose to get the drinks he went to the bar with him. Thanks for coming, he said.

Aye, it’s a real chore.

Naw man, serious.

Dont be fucking daft.

Tammas sniffed. I’ll just have a half pint. .

Rab looked at him. The barmaid was serving someone else and he had yet to give the order. We dont have to have one at all, he said.

Ah well. .

Rab turned, strolled to the table: Okay girls, let’s go.

We no having another drink?

Tammas shrugged. We’ll get one at the track.

O! I didnt know they had a bar, said Betty.

Aye, Christ, all the mod cons!

At the large carpark outside the stand the taxi stopped and a wee boy pulled open the door. Ta son, said Tammas and tipped him 10 pence. When he had paid the driver he guided the others across to the entrance, buying two Advisers on the way, one of which he gave to Rab. He bought two pencils from the old woman at the turnstiles. She’s a millionaire, he said, but never mind!

He went through the gate after them, pushing Rab on to stop him paying the entrance money. I told you, he said, I’m getting it.

Dont be daft man.

Naw, replied Tammas. He passed the money across the counter to the man and received the four programmes in return.

In the upstairs lounge bar overlooking the track they managed to squeeze in at a table close by the tote grid. He handed £2 to Betty. This is to have a go — you and Rena.

I’ve got my own money! answered Rena. She grinned pointing at Rab: His!

Well I’m no putting two pound on a dog! Betty said, Definitely not!

Tammas smiled. It’s to last you the whole bloody night!

Heh. I thought we were only staying till the 5th race? Rab was frowning.

We are. Tammas sniffed; he brought out his cigarettes, lighted one.

I would stay later, said Rena after a moment.

Naw, said Tammas, I’m no bothering.

Rab shook his head: Christ I’m no bothering either man, whatever you like. .

Tammas grinned. Probably be skint by then anyhow!

It was not until the 4th race that he left the lounge. He had been betting in small amounts only, and doing it via the tote. But he had one he quite fancied now and he wanted to see how it figured in the ring. While he stood watching the bookmakers as they watched the punters and each other he suddenly spotted Deefy, the worker from the club; he was wearing the fedora hat, standing amongst the crowd below the row. And then he strode away to the side, to the second last bookmaker, and he handed him what looked like a thick wad. And the bookmaker accepted it without returning Deefy a receipt, and scored out the 5/1 price of the 2 dog. The other bookmakers were offering 4/1. But instead of marking up 4/1 the fellow left it blank, and then marked in 3/1. Immediately Tammas trotted up to the nearest bookmaker and backed the 2 dog at 4/1.

The dogs were being loaded into the traps as he left the betting enclosure and he started running up the stairs. In the lounge Rab was standing near to the window to see the race. Tammas joined him.

Then the hooter sounded and the lights round the stadium were extinguished, leaving the track brightly lit. When the hare flashed past the traps Tammas said, On you go the 2 dog!

Rab frowned at him. I thought you were backing 5?

Naw.

They watched the race, dog 2 just failing to catch the favourite, the dog coming out of Trap 3. Tammas shook his head and tore his ticket into pieces.

I would probably have backed that! said Rab. But I let you chat me onto the 5 dog!

Tammas shrugged.

At the table Betty was laughing and holding her tote tickets in the air. Tammas! I got it! Number 3!

So she did! laughed Rena.

Hh. . Tammas nodded. Did you back it as well?

No, tch.

What about you Tammas? What did you take?

Eh. . a mule.

A mule!

What yous wanting to drink?

The bar was busy. Once he had shouted his order to one of the barmaids he concentrated on the form given in the Adviser . His nap for the night was going in this the 5th race. He had selected it that morning, as soon as he had seen the Daily Record . When he carried the drinks to the table Betty asked for a loan of the Adviser and she read it for a few moments. Rab grinned at her. You better give Tammas your tip!