TJ took a sip of wine. "What could be so bad you'd never get a job again? Go on a rant in the post-match presser? Rant about all the ills in football with hundreds of millions watching you? That wouldn't stop you getting a job if you keep winning football matches at the rate you're going. What could it possibly be...?"
Briggy was giving me a very cold look. I stared right back at her until she looked away. "You'll see, I hope, but I have to earn the right to get to that moment. That's why I'm grinding harder than ever. I've got a purpose. A mission. I'm in the middle of a training montage. I need to use every free minute of my days buffing myself up so I can compete tactically."
"It's not just the tactics, Max. You can set up a team and respond to events better than anyone I've ever met. If you're really going to a big club, your challenge will be handling the star players." He spun his finger around. "This is your world. You're the king of this castle. You can rule Chester with a rod of iron but when you get to your Man Uniteds, your Chelseas, it's the players that rule the roost. They're all gobby, they all have attitudes, they don't listen to what elite managers have to say and they certainly won't listen to a League One manager from England."
"You think it'd be better if I was called Maximus Hammer?"
TJ laughed and gestured. "Have you noticed, Briggy? He is obsessed with us Germans using the word hammer."
I put my hand on his shoulder and eased him back towards the main stand. "I'm obsessed with Timo being whatever nationality he wants as the case suits him. Suitcases, that reminds me. Briggy flew over today. She's been in planes, my mini, a cramped seat in the main stand, my tiny little manager's room. She'll probably want to get settled in her hotel. We're gonna shoot off, if that's okay?"
"Sure, Max. And listen. I mean, you're... I'll think about what you said. I know it's... Wait, he picked you up at the airport?"
"Yes," said Briggy. "Manchester."
"Max Best picked you up at Manchester airport? On a match day?"
"Yes. Why?"
TJ was frowning hard. "Who are you, again?"
I unlocked the door to my little room and shoved my laptop into its backpack. There was a brand I liked and I had five of the model that fit my shoulders perfectly. I tapped Timo on the chest. "It's not that strange, okay? I'm actually a kind and thoughtful person."
"Riiiiiight," said one of two managers in the top four leagues I could call a friend.
"Bye."
I slung the backpack over my shoulders and got my phone out.
Me: Babes, I'm taking Briggy to the hotel.
Emma: She's letting you call her that, is she?
Me: Of course. It's her name. Will I come back to the Deva?
Emma: No, you can go straight home. I'll get a lift.
Briggy and I walked to the corner flag and for the thousandth time, I admired the new stand. I wondered if I would ever get tired of looking at it.
"You built that," said Briggy. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," I said.
She swept her gaze around the walls, the roof, along the rows of seats, back up to the sponsor's boxes. "My father wanted me to become an architect."
"Oh?"
"He himself was, a, fuck I'm tired. Handwerker, how do you say that?"
"Handyman?"
"No. Ah... Craftsman. He did the work the architects told him to do. The architects and the handwerkers were not paid according to the labour that went into the buildings."
"No. He wanted you to be on the right side of the exchange."
"Yes. But if we are all architects, nothing will be built. I wanted to work with my hands." She looked up again before comparing my creation to the rest of the stadium. "This," she said, facing the old section, "is nothing." She turned again. "This is something."
It seemed like the highest praise I was ever likely to get from this particular woman, so I pointed to a steward in his high-vis jacket. "We go with him and he'll escort us to the car park. I got attacked the one time I rushed off on my own, so the Brig's set things up so I'm safe here and in the footprint."