DeliciousMaiden
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Apr 22, 2002
- Posts
- 15,258
The beautiful game … that’s what they call it and Lisa had always agreed, though the cold and the wet and the muddy mire which characterised the winter pitches of clubs at this level seemed to contradict that image. To her right sat a business colleague, Martin who though claiming an interest in football had seemed more eager when the offer of ‘pre-and-post match lunch/buffet’ together with free bar and seats in the director’s box was made. Lisa chuckled to herself as she watched the façade of civility slipping slightly as Martin conversed with the home club’s Vice-Chairman. The pre-match chilli and rice had not quite lived up to his expectations, nor the half time coffee/biscuit combination, yet for her part their warming qualities had been all that Lisa needed for indeed though partially protected by the shelters housing the home and away team ‘dug-outs’ it was bitterly cold. A factor not alleviated by perching on the flip-up plastic seats that offered no more comfort that the standard stand seating despite being designated as reserved for guests.
”You know who that is …?”
Martin hissed in her ear indicating the man to her left. Though she nodded, the gesture was most likely lost amongst the swathe of hat and scarf as her colleague continued regardless.
”That’s Ivan Thovenski … the Russian soccer star … he’s manager of … “[/I]
Lisa nodded and interrupted irritated by Martin’s assumption that she knew less about football than he.
”I know who he is … “
She told him in a pointed aside. She had seen Ivan take the seat two down from her and not only recognised him, but had actually been surreptitiously watching him throughout the uneventful first half. It was clear that he was there on ‘business’ rather than pleasure, an impression she had quickly checked by pulling out her phone and scrolling through the future fixtures confirming that Ivan’s team were indeed scheduled to play that day’s away team in just over a week’s time. And as such she was sure he would not appreciate Martin’s overt interest, any more than her own covert observations and with effort dragged her attention back to the lack lustre second half game on the pitch.
She had heard the rumours about him of course, that he had been a player of some standard back in Russia, but she had not listened to gossip as to his reasons for coming over to the UK, much less the speculation of why a man such as he would take on the management of a club at the level at which he was currently involved. Based on having watched a pre-season friendly and again an away game in the October, Lisa calculated that Ivan’s team would be looking at a mid-table team placement at the end of the season, not that she expected that their manager would be satisfied by such a placing. By reputation Ivan was known to be dogged and single minded, but those descriptions did not fully do him justice; she could not help but find him impressive in stature: A ‘great bear of a man’ was the analogy that came to mind. She suspected there was a gentle side to him and indeed she had the impression that he was not one to waste words, even in his mother tongue, yet, in contrast she doubted that he would be one to hold back his feelings when riled either and there had already been some side-of-the-pitch episodes that bore witness to this.
Ivan did not know Lisa or of her business or personal interest in football, but it had crossed her mind that her company might be persuaded to put an offer of sponsorship in his direction. The team were solid and not at risk of relegation and, like it or not, their association with Ivan was actually in their favour from a commercial point of view. She glanced to her side once more and saw him fully focused upon annotating the team sheet and making sketches into a gridded pad, which fascinated Lisa almost as much as the man himself.
A line of expletives emanating from somewhere behind her brought Lisa to the realisation that she had been caught day-dreaming. Looking about she tried to discern what had happened. It seemed the penalty had been taken … unsuccessfully. But there had been an ‘incident in front of goal’ of some sort and the home goalkeeper was on the floor and requiring treatment. She turned to Martin, though reluctant to ask him what happened.
”That doesn’t look good…”
She commented neutrally instead, trying to glean from his reply what might have led to the fact that a player for the home team was being stretchered off. The home crowd definitely weren’t impressed. On the pitch both managers were at the limit of their technical areas. Behind them another stream of ‘choice language’ was directed towards the officials. Instinctively Lisa turned towards the source of the outbursts and noted that Ivan had done the same. Shorter as she was she could not spot the individual, but Ivan she saw had made eye contact with the perpetrator no doubt trying to nip the situation in the bud. Initially the ploy worked and their joint attention returned the pitch where the goalkeeper was limping off and a substitution was waiting to be made. Though this seemed to calm the crowds marginally, behind them the situation became exacerbated by the realisation of who Ivan was. This time it seemed a group of about 3 spectators had decided to provoke Ivan by a stream of heckling personal abuse the content of which Lisa found she was actually shocked by. She was convinced that there was no way this wasn’t going to kick off as she saw Martin and the Club Vice-Chairman looking on helplessly.
To Lisa's surprise it was Ivan who got to his feet and seemed to front up to the hecklers.