Free Knees Up Mother Earth by Robert Rankin Page B

“of course I don’t.”
    “Oh,” said John.
    “Should I laugh at that?” asked Jim. “It was quite funny.”
    “Do so and I strike you,” said Omally.
    “Sorry,” said the professor.
    John shrugged. “It isn’t what I was going to ask you anyway. What I was going to ask you was this. It
is
possible for a team with little talent to beat a team with a lot of talent if the team with the little talent is led by a manager skilled in the art of tactics. Tactics win games. Life is all about tactics, in my humble opinion.”
    “Your life certainly is,” said Jim. “Especially when these tactics are being employed to win the affections of married women.”
    “Sssh,” said John. “Such indiscreet remarks are not worthy of you. What I’m asking you, Professor, is could you formulate a set of tactics whereby Brentford might once, for this season alone, actually
win
?”
    Professor Slocombe stroked his chin. “Hm,” went he. “An interesting challenge. And one, I have to say, not without a certain charm. I agree with you that although improbable, it is certainly
possible
for Brentford to win through. But my days are full; I would not have the time in them to manage a football team.”
    “I’m not suggesting that
you
manage the team,” said John.
    “I felt that you were about to.”
    “Yes, well, perhaps I was. Certainly your presence alone on the pitch would inspire the team. But surely you, a man of such erudite learning and with such a love for the borough—”
    “John,” said the professor, “with the possible exception of certain members of the town council, you would be hard-pressed to find a Brentonian who does
not
love the borough.”
    “
Touché
,” said John. “But if
you
could formulate the tactics, it wouldn’t really matter who the manager was. His job would simply be to pass on these tactics to the team.”
    “In principle,” said the professor, “but you mentioned the word ‘inspire’. A football manager must be able to inspire. He must have charisma.”
    Omally threw up his hands. “It was worth a try,” said he. “The salary Brentford United can afford to pay a manager is now but a pittance. No professional manager would ever take over the position anyway. The team is doomed, the ground is doomed.” Omally rose to take his leave. “I’m sorry,” said he, “but Jim was right, I
have
wasted your time.”
    Professor Slocombe nodded his head from side to side. “Not so fast, John,” he said. “And allow it to be said that I admire
your
tactics here. You know full well that if I could do anything to save the club, I would. And I agree with you that it
is
possible. And I would certainly be prepared to put my mind to the matter of tactics. In fact, to employ, shall we say, certain methods of my own to aid the team’s advancement—”
    Jim looked at John.
    And John looked at Jim.
    Then both of them looked back towards the professor.
    “Tactics,” said Professor Slocombe. “Tactics, certain other methods and a charismatic manager.” His head bobbed once more from side to side. “That would be the winning formula.”
    “It would,” Omally agreed.
    Professor Slocombe gazed thoughtfully upon his uninvited guests. “It is always a pleasure to engage the two of you in conversation,” he said. “The two of you are, how shall I put this,
alive
. Yes, that’s the word. You
live
. On your wits the two of you live and not entirely to the dictates of the establishment. But you are most certainly alive.” The professor noted well the twin expressions of bewilderment that had now appeared upon the faces of his guests.
    “I think,” he continued, “that together we might well succeed with what many would consider to be an impossible quest. To whit, to take Brentford to the very top this season, and to win the FA Cup.”
    “Right,” said John. “I’ll drink to that.”
    “Me, too,” said Jim, “but my glass is now empty.”
    “Mine, too,” said John, “but I’ll drink