Split Loyalties - Part Two: The Rivalry

An unexpected conversation

The phone call had come while Monty was receiving a massage in the Westpool Athletic treatment room. Monty, along with the rest of the players, always received a massage the day after a match, just to help loosen any tight muscles.

He’d heard his phone ringing and asked his teammate, Jacob Anderson, to answer it and take a message while the masseuse finished off his work.  

When, standing in the changing room a few minutes later, Jacob told Monty who had been on the phone, the young defender was certain that his teammate must have been joking. After all, in recent months Jacob had developed a reputation for being Westpool Athletic’s main practical joker.

This, Monty was sure, would just turn out to be another one of the team’s star striker’s ‘jokes.’

“I’m telling you the truth, Monts, I promise,” stated Jacob as earnestly as possible, while Monty continued to stare disbelievingly at him.

“Whatever you say, Jacob,” Monty replied in a voice as disbelieving in tone as Jacob’s had been earnest.

“Look, if you don’t believe me,” continued Jacob, starting to sound a tad exasperated by the conversation, “then just ring the last number that called your phone and you’ll see that I’m telling you the truth.”

Jacob held out Monty’s I-phone, imploring his younger teammate to make the call.

Instinctively, Monty went to take the phone from him, but just as it looked as though he was going to grab it, he hesitated. “Look, I’m not stupid you know. I know full well that when I dial this number it’s just going to be one of the other lads who’s in on this stupid joke of yours.”

Jacob smirked. “Well, if you don’t call the number back then you’ll never know, will you?”

Monty tutted, rolled his eyes and then reluctantly took the phone from Jacob’s outstretched hand.

He should have known better than to have asked Jacob Anderson to answer the phone for him. The person on the other end of the phone would have left a voicemail message if it was important. Now, by asking Jacob to take a message, he was certain he was just about to become the butt of a not particularly funny practical joke.

“I really don’t know why I’m doing this,” sighed Monty, as he swiped his finger across the screen of his phone and began to tap at it. “It’s just going to make me look completely stupid,” he added, holding the phone up to his right ear. “I must be a complete...” he started to say, before the person he’d been coerced into calling picked up.

Jacob watched with amusement as the expression on Monty’s face turned from one of disbelief, to shock, to excitement in a matter of moments.

“Erm, I really don’t know what to say...” Monty stuttered into his phone. “I mean, I do, obviously. Of course I know what to say. I’m available. Without a doubt. Totally. I’m just... wow, I’m in total shock... I really can’t believe it. It’s... it’s… well, shocking... but exciting. I mean, I’m really excited. Definitely. This isn’t a joke, is it? You’re not pulling my leg? Honestly?”

Jacob couldn’t stop himself from laughing as Monty continued to ramble into the phone for a good few minutes, repeatedly expressing his shock and excitement at the news he was receiving, and periodically checking that he really wasn’t being the victim of a cruel practical joke.

After babbling on for a good while longer, Monty finally finished his conversation and turned to face Jacob. He looked as white as snow. “You... you were telling the truth,” he said, sounding well and truly astonished.

Jacob nodded. “I certainly was, Monts.” He laughed out loud and then slapped his friend on the back in a congratulatory manner. “Congratulations buddy. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Jacob. I just... wow. This is amazing.” Monty puffed out his cheeks. He was trembling with a mixture of shock and excitement and struggling to keep his emotions in check. He turned to face Jacob and a huge smile started to spread across his face. “I need to tell people. I need to phone my Mum and Dad... And Hugh... And Nana and Gramps.. And.” A sudden look of horror replaced Monty’s hitherto beaming smile, “I really need to call Nonno and Nona.”

“If you want to tell them your good news, then I think you’re a bit late for that,” interrupted Jacob, gesturing towards the plasma TV screen which was mounted on the wall of the changing room.

As usual, the television was showing coverage of a 24-hour sports news channel. Along the bottom of the screen, written confirmation of the news Monty had just received was being displayed over and over again.

‘Shock announcement: Uncapped Monty Capulet called into World Cup squad.’

 To the complete surprise of everyone concerned, not least Monty himself, Hugh was not to be the only Capulet taking part in the upcoming World Cup.

Unlike Hugh, though, Monty would not be playing for Italy. He’d be playing for England.

The invitation

Hugh had been watching Lexington’s under 18s team play their final match of the season when he’d heard the news.

Even though he was still only 26, Hugh had already decided that when he retired from playing football, he wanted to become a coach... and then eventually a manager. Therefore, whenever time allowed, the skilful midfielder could often be found, come wind, rain or shine, watching Lexington teams of various ages playing matches at the club’s Middleton training complex. During these games he paid close attention to the tactics used by the different coaches and made notes on any young players who caught his eye. This kind of information could come in extremely useful one day, he reasoned.

On this particular day, though, Hugh wasn’t paying his usual high level of attention to the match being played out in front of him. The Italian national team’s coach had phoned Hugh the previous evening to guarantee him his spot in the country’s World Cup squad. Although this news had been expected – Hugh had played every minute of every match for Italy during the qualifying campaign and had been in great form for Lexington in the season just ended – the confirmation that he would be going to Brazil had further fuelled his excitement for the tournament.

Every few minutes Hugh would drift into a daydream, imagining what it would be like to play – or even better score – in the World Cup final for his beloved Italy. To do so had been a dream of his from the moment Nonno had bought him his first Italian kit when he was just four years old.

In his mind, Hugh had just single-handedly taken the ball past the entire Brazil defence and was about to shoot for goal in the last minute of the final, when his reverie was broken by the sound of someone excitedly calling his name.

“Hugh, Hugh, you’ll never guess what!”

Hugh spun round to see Old Jack – one of the few supporters who regularly turned up to the Middleton training complex to watch Lexington under 18s – hobbling over to him as fast as he could; which given that Old Jack was in his 80s, wasn’t particularly fast.

“This better be good, Jack. I was just about to score against Brazil in the World Cup final,” replied Hugh, good-naturedly.

“What?” responded Jack, looking genuinely confused and peering around just in case he’d somehow managed to miss a swarm of Brazilian defenders scattered around the near empty sidelines of the pitch. Old Jack smiled uncertainly at Hugh, scratched his head, and then remembered what he’d rushed over – at least by his slow shuffling standards – to tell the Italian international.    

“You’ll never guess what,” the old man stated again.

“I guess I won’t,” Hugh said with a chuckle. He had a real soft spot for Old Jack. “You’ll have to tell me.”

“Your brother’s been picked for the England squad! He’s going to the World Cup, too!”

At first, Hugh thought the old man must have been mistaken. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that Old Jack had gotten confused about something. Monty had never played for an international representative side at any age group and there had been no rumours in the press that he was about to be called up to the England squad. Hugh was convinced that either Old Jack had misheard or that someone was having him on.

The professional footballer pulled his smartphone from his coat pocket and began frantically tapping at the screen, bringing up a sport’s news app. To his amazement, the app confirmed what Jack had told him.

Hugh let out a yell of pure pleasure, a reaction which caused Jack to stagger backwards in shock.

Reaching out an arm to steady his elderly friend, the footballer apologised to Jack for making him jump and then thanked him for sharing his news.

“Are you happy, then?” asked Jack, without any hint of sarcasm, once the shock caused by the younger man’s sudden outburst had subsided. 

“Are you kidding me? Of course I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be? My little brother’s just been called up to his national team!”

“I know. But I thought you might have preferred it if Monty was to play for Italy. Like you.”

Hugh considered the old man’s words for a moment. The truth was that while he would have loved to play alongside his younger brother for Italy, he strongly doubted that Monty would have felt the same way. Hugh had spent so much time with Nonno and Nona when he was younger that he’d only ever dreamed of playing for Italy. As a kid, he was always wearing the blue shirt of the Azzurri rather than the three lions of England and at major tournaments he always hoped that the Italians would do better than the English. On this, he was rarely disappointed.

Monty, on the other hand, was always more of an England fan than Italy. It was the only area where the brothers ever really had any disagreements. In his heart of hearts, Hugh knew that, if Monty had been given a choice over which national team to represent, he would almost certainly have chosen to play for England.

After a short pause he looked at Jack and shook his head. “In an ideal world maybe, Jack. But I think this is what Monty would have wanted so I’m absolutely delighted for him.”

“You’re a good man, Hugh,” said Old Jack, smiling and gently patting the footballer on the back. “That lot out there could do a lot worse than follow your example,” he added, gesturing towards the under 18s players. “Just think, in a few weeks’ time you could be lining up to play against your brother in a World Cup match in Brazil. It doesn’t get much bigger than that.”

These words caused Hugh to hesitate again. While he’d obviously been aware that Italy’s first game in the World Cup was against England, and he’d been more than looking forward to playing against the country of his birth, he hadn’t once considered the possibility that he could find himself directly squaring up against his younger brother.

Before he had a time to consider how he truly felt about this, however, the phone that he was still holding in his hand started vibrating furiously. Hugh glanced at the screen, smiled, and then pressed the answer button, making sure to keep the phone well away from his ears.

“OH-MY-GOSH-HAVE-YOU-SEEN-THE-NEWS,” his mother shrieked into the phone in an alarmingly high-pitched voice.

“Yes Mum, I’ve seen it. I take it you’re slightly excited,” Hugh answered.

“JUST-SLIGHTLY,” his mum shrieked again, loudly. Hugh was just about to ask his mother if she could possibly try and tone down her excitement levels for the good of his eardrums, when he heard his father in the background make the exact same request.

“Sorry about that,” continued Juliet Capulet, once her excitement had receded to a more manageable level. “I just can’t believe it. My two boys both picked to play in the World Cup... for different teams. It’s just so exciting. I’m – I mean we’re – so proud of you both. Have you spoken to your brother yet?”

“No, Mum, I’ve only just found...”

“Well I have,” Mrs Capulet continued, not giving Hugh a chance to finish his sentence. “He’s due to meet up with the England squad next Monday, and I already know that you’re due in Italy on Sunday evening, so I’ve – I mean your father and I – have decided to hold a special family celebration on Friday night. Is that okay with you?”

“Do I really have a choice?” Hugh asked, already knowing the answer.

“Not really, no. So we’ll see you at about seven-thirty.”

Hugh finished finalising the details with his Mum and then hung up the phone.

If his mind had already been wandering towards Brazil before Old Jack had told him the news about Monty, then following the phone-call with his mother he was now unable to think of anything else. In six days’ time he’d be flying to Italy to meet up with his Italian teammates ahead of a World Cup training camp at the national team’s Coverciano complex in Florence. The time couldn’t go quickly enough.

Before that, though, he was also really looking forward to seeing his younger brother at his parent’s house on Friday evening. He found it strange to think that the next time he’d see him after that could be on a football pitch in Brazil.

“I’m sure it will be a truly memorable occasion,” said Old Jack, after Hugh had explained to him what his Mum had been calling for.

The old man could not possibly have known just how accurate his words would turn out to be.      

 

The party    

In spite of the long history of petty squabbling between Hugh and Monty’s Italian and English grandparents, Romeo and Juliet Capulet had believed that holding a family gathering to celebrate their two sons’ imminent participation at the World Cup would be the ideal time to bring both sides of the family together again.

At first, everything was fine – although it has to be said that this was mainly because Gramps and Nana Sampson stayed in the kitchen talking to Monty, while Nonno and Nona Capulet occupied the living room with Hugh. It was only when, after plenty of not-so-gentle persuasion from Juliet, Nana and Gramps eventually agreed to go and mingle with the Italian side of the family that proceedings quickly began to take a downward turn.

“Monty, my boy,” cried Nonno enthusiastically, as his youngest grandchild entered the living room. “Come here and let me offer you my warmest congratulations.” Monty walked over to his Italian grandfather, who promptly engulfed the young defender in a huge, breath-squeezing bear hug before placing a kiss on each of his grandson’s cheeks.

“Thanks Nonno. It was a real surprise when I got the phone-call from the gaffer,” replied Monty once he was able to breathe properly again. “It still is if I’m being honest. I just can’t believe I’m going to the World Cup.”

“You totally deserve it bro,” said Hugh, from across the room.

“He certainly does,” agreed Gramps. “As do you, Hugh. Let’s not forget this will be your first major international tournament, too.”

“Thanks Gramps.”

Juliet and Romeo shared a quick glance. Both sides of the family had been in a room together for at least half-a-minute and, so far, no bickering had broken out. This was an almost unheard-of occurrence.

“To be honest, I don’t really expect to play that much, if at all,” continued Monty, modestly. “I’m only there as cover. The gaffer told me as much when I spoke to him on the phone a few days ago. If a couple of the other defenders hadn’t picked up injuries during their final games of the season, then I doubt I’d be anywhere near the squad.”

“Nonsense,” laughed Nana, warmly. “And, you never know, you might get a chance to play. Even if you don’t it will still be a great experience for you just to be part of the set-up.”

The rest of the room nodded in agreement and then everyone took a sip of the drinks they were holding.

It was Nonno who broke the room’s surprisingly comfortable silence. “And, anyway,” the Italian said in what he hoped was a jocular manner, “it’ll probably do you a favour if you do miss the first game. Your boys will be working overtime in that match; I can tell you. Isn’t that right, Hugh?”

A look of concern flashed across the faces of Romeo and Juliet. Although they were both pretty sure that Nonno had been making a joke, they could tell from the expression on Gramps’ face that not everyone had received the jape in the way it had been intended.

All eyes now turned to Hugh. Everyone was eagerly awaiting his response. “Well, I certainly hope we win,” he started, nervously; fully aware that to say the wrong thing here would only serve to enflame an already potentially volatile situation. “It certainly won’t be easy, though, Nonno. England have a decent young squad right now, and...”

“Pah,” Nonno exclaimed, shrugging his shoulders in an overly-exaggerated manner. “You have to say such things in order to not hurt your baby brother’s feelings.” He turned to look at Monty. “Believe me young Monty, come the end of that game you’ll be scratching your head, wondering why you didn’t wait a few months to try and get selected for Italy, like Hugh. Now the Italian way, that’s real football!”

Juliet had kept her eyes on her Dad the entire time her father-in-law had been speaking, and could tell from the way Gramps’ face had turned as red as a poppy, that Nonno’s careless words had not been at all well received.

“Anyway…” she said, quickly moving around the room to refill everyone’s glasses with drink, whilst attempting to subtly move the subject of conversation away from the Italy verses England game. “… I’m sure we’ll all be wanting both boys to...”

 “Real football!” The words exploded from Gramps’ lips before Juliet had a chance to finish her sentence.

“Now, Dad. I’m sure Nonno was just...”

“Real football,” Gramps repeated, once again not giving his daughter a chance to finish what she was trying to say. He gave a mocking laugh. “I suppose real football is all about scoring a lucky early goal and then putting ten outfield players behind the ball to defend the lead. That’s not real football, that’s boring football.”

This time it was Monty’s turn to try and cool the situation. “I’m not sure that Italy still play like that these days, Gramps, they’re much more...”

“Jealousy,” screamed Nonno, cutting off his youngest grandson’s attempts to placate the rapidly building tension in the room. “The English have never been able to understand the Italian philosophy. It’s perfectly simple; if you can’t score past us, then you can’t beat us. It’s why we’re winners and you’re not.”

“Winners?” shouted Gramps, his face turning from poppy red to beetroot. “Winners? You lot! Don’t make me laugh. Tell him Monty... tell him just how England are going to put a three-lions size dent into Italy’s World Cup dream in a few weeks.”

“Pah,” cried Nonno again, before Monty, or anyone else for that matter, had a chance to say anything. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Ask Hugh, he’ll tell you why England don’t stand a chance of beating us in Brazil!”

Despite further attempts from Juliet, Romeo, Monty and Hugh to try and lighten the atmosphere in the room, the argument only continued to spiral out of hand, and matters got even worse a few minutes later when Nana and Nona joined in the quarrelling too.

The boys and their parents soon realised that there was no point in continuing to try and defuse the row. Instead, they decided to get up and leave the grandparents to it. These kinds of scenes had become all too familiar over the years and all four adults were fully aware that attempting to stop the bickering would now be a waste of time.

Even once they were all sitting in the kitchen with the doors firmly shut behind them, the sound of the squabbling grandparents in the other room was still clearly audible. Juliet felt truly terrible about the way the evening had turned out. Hugh and Monty continually told her that there was no need for her to keep apologising, but the constant noise of the grandparents arguing in the background only served to put a downer on what should have been an evening of celebration.

The two boys were just making their excuses to leave, and were in the process of wishing each other the best of luck for the tournament ahead, when the noise coming from the other room was all of a sudden replaced by silence.

“Sounds like they’ve finished arguing at last,” chuckled Monty.

“Either that or they’ve all just killed each other,” joked Hugh.

The two footballers and their parents all laughed heartily, although after a few more moments of silence, the laughter became increasingly nervous-sounding. “You don’t think they really have killed each other, do you?” asked Romeo, in a tone that betrayed more than a hint of concern.

Before anyone had a chance to answer, the kitchen door burst wide open and Gramps and Nonno strode purposely into the room, quickly followed by Nona and Nana.

Without so much as saying a word to anyone, the two elderly men picked up their shoes and walked out of the kitchen and headed in the direction of the front door.

“What’s going on, Mum?” enquired Romeo.

“Well, Gramps Sampson said that there’s absolutely no way the Italians can beat the English at anything so Nonno challenged him to a race. They’re going out the front now. First one to the third lamppost along wins. Come on, grab your shoes and watch your Dad thrash him. Viva Italia!”

“Oh my word,” exclaimed Juliet, who looked absolutely mortified by the latest turn of events.

“Don’t worry, Mum,” said Monty reassuringly. “At least things can’t get any worse.”

However, as it turned out Monty was wrong.

Part three released on 10th June...