Текст книги "Ravages"

Автор книги: R.A. Padmos

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Daniël doesn’t say a word but just holds him a bit tighter.

“Thank you for not saying I’m able to defend myself or that you would never let me come to

harm ever again. I know, like I know few other things, you would have died defending me in that park,

and it still won’t change the truth.”

“But then you would at least have had someone fighting beside you.” Daniël presses his lips

against Steve’s forehead. “How can I live knowing you were dying alone?”

“I wasn’t alone. I was never in doubt about your love, no matter what foul language they used.”

Steve looks at Daniël. “And still the monsters are there. And the knowledge of how empty-handed we

sometimes feel is there. Hush, boy, without you I wouldn’t even be able to talk about facing the

monsters.”

He turns on his back, taking Daniël with him. Fully aware he’s only able to do that because his

lover doesn’t resist him. His tall body is now covering him, though with most of its weight not resting

on him.

“You’re shivering,” Daniël whispers.

“We both are.”

Steve looks at Daniël’s dear face and Daniël never averts his eyes from Steve. They stay as

they are for a while. Not talking, not moving. Not even kissing. Just being there: together.

“I think I’m ready to start the day,” Steve finally says.

“Then I’m ready too.” Dan kisses him as a way to say thank you and gets up.

Steve feels strangely calm while they get through what is fast becoming a treasured routine of

taking a shower, brushing teeth, shaving, getting dressed, preparing and eating breakfast.

Of course, he notices Dan’s almost erection when the boy’s taking a shower and feels excited

by it, although he doesn’t know how to initiate any kind of sex at the moment.

“When I get near you, I get hard.” Daniël continues to wash.

“If you want to ...”

“Would you like me to?”

“Yes, please.”

This time Daniël doesn’t close his eyes, isn’t transported back to the hospital shower,

frustrated and angry. He looks at Steve, nothing but happiness on his face. The blush spreading over

part of his body is clearly from excitement, not shyness.

“You look so … I’m not sure what word to use, alive I guess. It does you good, being out of the

hospital.” Steve sits on the stool, no longer able to stand without discomfort. “You’re the most

beautiful thing in my life. Second to none.”

“I am?” There’s nothing feigned in Daniël’s question.

“Utterly. And before you start, I am aware of your imperfections. In fact, I’ve kissed them so

often I know every single one of them by heart.”

“And my cock, you like my cock too?” Daniël moves his hand up and down, covering the head

with the foreskin, then baring it again.

“Like it so much. I like looking at it and touching it and smelling it and taking it in my mouth

to taste it ...”

Little puffs of air are leaving Daniël’s lips while he thrusts into his own hand.

“I remember how you felt inside me. How your cock felt inside me. But most of all, I

remember your eyes. And when I walked through the city, I knew I had to see that look in your eyes

again. You want me as much as I want you?”

“Oh yes, fuck yes ...”

Yes to all and everything, Steve thinks and he knows Daniël thinks it as well, even when

Daniël is no longer able to make any sound except for the soft moan announcing his almost silent

pleasure. As soon as his lover stumbles from the shower cabin, Steve gets up and catches him in his

arms, appreciative that Daniël doesn’t actually lean his full weight on him.

“You manage to have sex with me without even touching me.” Daniël leans into Steve, kissing

him. “Can’t wait till tonight.”

“Even if it would mean me falling asleep because I’m so tired?”

“You would fall asleep in my arms. You bet I can’t wait for that. But first, there’s a whole day

ahead of us. We could do with a bit of food. And coffee. I need coffee.”

“Makes you sleepy, huh, getting off?” Steve smiles while he watches Dan getting dressed.

“Wouldn’t mind going back to bed, cuddling up against you, sleep a bit, have sex again...But

I’ll be a good boy. So, coffee it is.”

And it is coffee and toast and Daniël with a pen in his hand, a note pad before him.

But Steve’s not quite ready to make lists and decide priorities.

“I remember how much I loved it, having you on top of me. So much of you, covering all of

me. You doing whatever you felt like when we were alone, because you knew I could take it all.

Because I wanted it as much as you did. I want it back.”

Daniël puts the pen down to take Steve’s hand.“You were shivering under me, but you didn’t

panic and you didn’t push me away.”

“I’m not pushing you away.” Steve chuckles. “I do sound indignant, don’t I?”

“A bit. I could see it when I looked into your eyes, how much more you love me than you fear

the monsters. And you fear them so much.”

“They’re as human as you and me, the ones attacking me and the ones running away to save

themselves, not even stopping to see what was happening, not realising it until they saw it on the

news. And I have to make peace with knowing what they are. Because I don’t want them looming over

our marriage.” Steve shrugs. “Time will take care of that.”

“Does it help, me saying how much I love you?”

“I know you love me, even if you would never tell me again in so many words. I don’t think it,

or hope it, or believe it, I know it. But, yeah, I love hearing it.”

Daniël smiles, takes the pen in his hand, writes something in bold, strong letters.

“Read this.”

The basics of reading have been mastered; the automatic skill is still a long way off. And he

wants to read it, not give a, most likely correct, guess.

“DANIËL ...

“LOVES ...

“STEVE ...”

Daniël carefully folds the piece of paper. “Keep it with you. And if it wears out and tears, I’ll

make another one.”

The next half hour is spent with deciding what needs to be done first, what can be delegated,

what’s for them both to do, what’s for Daniël, what’s for Steve and how to prevent themselves from

drowning.

“I’ll start making a few calls; going to ask a housing agent to make a short-list of houses that

are suitable for us. Degaré invited us for training after lunch. Just saying hi to the guys, more like. We

both start regular training later this week. Your hospital visit isn’t for another month or so, so that’s

off the list for now. And we have to get a few things like fresh bread, something for tea. Most

importantly, I think we should make some decisions about our wedding sometime this week: an

approximate date and a few rough ideas about what we want, who we want with us and where we want

it, so I can hire someone to organise it.”

Steve knows it’s not all that much, but his head has to battle to get it all in. Getting out of the

apartment, going to the Three Graces Park, meeting the others: there’s enough to make him clutch the

piece of paper in his hand to remember what it is all about.

“Too much?” Daniël asks.

Steve nods. “It doesn’t matter. I know you’ll do the calls, so I shouldn’t be worried about that

and we’ll go by car when we go anywhere but ...”

“Too much.”

“As I said, it doesn’t matter. Just because it’s difficult and scary doesn’t mean I can’t do it. As

long as you’re with me, I’m fine.”

It gets him through the day, even if it means knowing once again his photo has been taken in an

intimate moment of vulnerability, when he gets out of the car at the Three Graces Park and for a

moment stands in the circle of Daniël’s arms before he’s ready to get his crutches and walk inside the

training ground.

“Mr Gavan, care to say a few words to us?”

“Steve you believe you will return to the club?”

“Mister Gavan, what exactly happened that night?”

“Daniël, you perhaps ...?”

Then, salvation in the form of Gabrysz’ smiling face and wide open arms. “Wonderful to see

you again, Steve, Daniël. Come quickly, you’ve been missed.”

And then to the press: “Come on boys, give them a bit of privacy and breathing space. They’ll

tell their story when they’re ready, okay?”

The greetings vary from reserved politeness to overenthusiastic cries of welcome, and from a

genuinely warm embrace to a matter of fact but well-meant, “Hey, you’re back.”

Steve smiles and shakes hands and he thinks he says something, but the only thing he’s sure of

is Daniël’s hand on his shoulder. He’s glad nobody’s asking him how he feels being back, because he

honestly has no idea.

Is he back at all?

But he recognises happiness for what it is when he sees Daniël running over the turf, trying to

stop Francesco from scoring, grinning in triumph when he tackles the striker who counts as one of the

fastest runners in the English competition.

Degaré sits next to him while they both watch Daniël in a struggle for the ball with Dag and

Neil. “He’s a fighter. I wouldn’t want to lose him for the club or for the sport in general. On some

days, I still can’t believe one of the bigger clubs with a much bigger bag of money wasn’t there before

me when he was still in his teens. Although, meeting his parents when he signed the contract and later

in hospital explained a lot. The Borgharts are a very down-to-earth family with healthy ethics about

the sport and the money. They refused to have his youth taken from him. But I’m sure Daniël has

already told you that. I’m aware of my reputation for breaking players’ egos and reputations to win a

match, and I don’t regret any of that, but I still think this club, this sport, needs people like him.”

“Then give him a chance. And I’ll make sure he’s going to be there every training. I have to

pick up my own programme. There’s still so much that needs work.”

“You’re both ready for that?”

“Does it matter? We didn’t ask for any of this. None of us did. It must have been tough on the

boys too. I bet there’s some ugly chanting and singing on the stands, especially with the away games.

And what about our own fans? Don’t tell me there’s love all around.”

“Ugly has been part of the game since the first boy decided to kick a pig’s bladder. As for the

fans, a few dozen season tickets being returned to the club, an internet petition to get rid of Dan with

less than 500 signatures. A few fights before and after games. Some pub brawls. Nothing we hadn’t

anticipated.” Degaré looks at Steve and smiles. “We mustn’t forget who the real culprits here are. I

saw that passport photo the police showed me and there was only one thing I could do. I appreciate

that you two have been discreet all those months, even if it would have been wrong to expect it from

you. It made life easier for everyone, except for you, of course. But nothing would have been easier

for you, just differently hard at best, I assume. It’s high time this sport and its fans enter the twentyfirst

century.”

“You talked about it with other managers?”

“Of course I have. You and Daniël ...” Degaré waves about. “Everyone’s eager to hear your

part of the story.”

“Daniël suggested a press conference.”

Degaré nods. “You’re up to it?”

“Yes, I am.” Steve knows it’s the truth up to a certain point, but it’s all he has to offer himself

and the man next to him for the time being.

“When’s the club officially going to let me go?” The question has to be asked.

“It’s early in the season still. Hardly autumn. Let’s give Daniël some time to work on his

comeback, the two of you on all the other things. Professional football, certainly on this level, is a

ruthless business. I give Daniël a chance because of his talent and fighting spirit. If I see I can’t use

him by the time the next window opens, he will be just like any of the other players. No privileges,

other than earned by talent, hard work and usefulness for the club. As for you, sometimes doing things

the logical way is doing them the wrong way.”

“It’s more than I can ask for. Thank you.”

“The owners and the board do realise the club has a name to win or lose. Good PR is worth a

man’s soul.” Degaré pats Steve on the shoulder. “We’re a long way from paradise yet.”

Then he’s off to shout instructions to a group of the younger guys who seem to be having a bit

too much fun.

Daniël looks positively radiant after the more than hour-long training session. “I’m going to

take a shower and change back real quick.” He kisses Steve on the cheek. “You had a good talk with

the gaffer?” And he’s off.

Matthew, in his capacity as captain, takes a few minutes to talk to him. They both try their best

to strike up a conversation that at least sounds normal and meaningful, but it’s still too early for either

the mundane or the real questions and so they’re left with talk about the weather and if the paparazzi

have been much of a bother.

Steve knows he will be at the training ground several times a week for the coming months, and

nothing is going to convince him he’s still somehow part of this all. Daniël, however, is, and he’s

thankful his lover has been accepted back so readily. He’s one of them. Still one of them.

*

That night, he lies next to Daniël in bed. After tea and talk about the day, after Daniël doing the

last of the planned calls while Steve takes a much needed rest, there’s quietness and touches and

kisses.

“It was beautiful, seeing you running on the turf with the others,” Steve whispers, while Daniël

nibbles on his ear.

“And it was beautiful, seeing you sitting next to the gaffer, talking to him,” Daniël whispers

while Steve takes his fingers to his mouth and starts to slowly suck and lick. “Are you trying to ...?”

“What does it look like?” Steve glides his tongue between the fingers.

“You’re trying to make me crazy with your mouth, that’s what it looks like.”

Wrapping his fingers around Daniël’s cock, Steve teases, “I wouldn’t mind having a taste of

this too.”

Pre-come forms in thick opaque drops.

“On our sides would be the most comfortable for me until ...” Before Steve’s able to finish his

sentence, Daniël changes positions, so he’s head-to-toes with his lover, and takes a first lick of Steve’s

cock.

“I’m afraid my poor old brain doesn’t allow me to concentrate on two equally exciting things

at the same time and I hunger for your cock. Please, Danny?”

“I’m all yours.” There’s proud surrender in his lover’s voice, next to all-out need and want.

Leaning on his side, Steve takes his time to look, just look, taking in the details of nuances of

colours and veins and the dripping down of pre-come; the slit widening to a tiny circle. When his eyes

have had their fill, he uses the tip of one finger to touch, slowly following the line of a vein, the

journey of a sticky drop. He’s close enough to be fully aware of the scent: this wondrous, delicate

balance between the best and the worst.

Only then does he allow himself a first taste.

Daniël makes an almost startled sound. But he doesn’t move a muscle.

He takes the head in his mouth, sucking as gently as he’s able to.

Daniël doesn’t tell him what to do, even though the tension in his body crackles the air with

electricity, his fingers clawing the rumpled sheets. Sweet, caring boy; trying not to intimidate his

lover with the force of his sexual need.

Steve retracts, then moves down, down until he can’t go any lower even when he’s willing to.

He goes up again, his lips and his tongue savouring every slow second.

He used to do this with wild abandon; sloppy and aggressive. He used to do this with aching

tenderness. He used to do this with methodical precision. He used to do this so often the taste became

the taste of almost every day. He tried to make it the start of the day, the end of the day.

The taste of his lover and the scent of his lover. Lingering through the days.

Falling on his knees in the kitchen. “Keep doing whatever you’re doing.” Afterwards, the taste

of food and the taste of his lover on his tongue.

He brings two of his fingers in the direction of Daniël’s mouth. The boy understands and starts

to lick and suck. He even changes the position of his legs slightly to give better access without Steve

having to ask him.

Steve places the fingers against Daniël’s opening, presses them in, while at the same time he

starts sucking the head with as much force as he’s able to.

Daniël tastes like sweet memories, like salty tears, like bitter anger.

And Steve drinks it all.

Chapter 22

The morning of the press conference, right after waking up, Steve manoeuvres Daniël gently

on top of him. Daniël is more than happy to oblige and for a few minutes, they enjoy lazy kisses and

brave smiles.

They don’t feel an urgent need to talk about their nervousness of the upcoming event, but

neither do they have any reason to avoid the subject while drinking coffee and eating rolls with

strawberry jam.

“We don’t have to say anything we don’t want to say. But we can’t stop them from asking

questions that will hurt you,” Daniël says. “And to think it’s not their business anyway.”

“At least I can look them in the face, give my honest answer, and have you and the gaffer and

the skipper sitting next to me. I can’t make anyone believe me, but that’s not really my concern.”

Steve knows he sounds much calmer than he actually feels because in some way, he does want those

others to believe him. He doesn’t want anyone, not even those whose opinion he doesn’t particularly

value, to doubt or dirty his love for Daniël or his unwillingness to hurt his boy for some meaningless

pleasure.

“They will try to make you remember. To talk about the men who did this to you. About the

way you talk, about how you still can’t walk properly. About the matches you’ll never play again.

About the players who feel embarrassed by us, the managers who’ll have to deal with it. About the

fans: the many who stand by us, defending us, and about the other ones. Hell, almost any gay man in

the world thinking we can mean something for them, and to be honest, I don’t want us to be anyone’s

spokesperson. Right now, I can’t even pretend I care. It’s not our battle because we have our own to

fight.”

“I get reminded every day. I don’t even have to think about it.” Steve takes Daniël’s hand in

his own. “I just wish it could be just the two of us. But, who knows, after a while people might get less

curious about us.”

“I’m sure it will help if I’ll end my professional career,” Daniël offers sincerely.

Steve shakes his head. “Please, no. I saw you running, having fun with the others, trying to see

if you’re still good enough for a place in the first team. It made me so happy. Degaré is eager to give

you a chance. He knows a good thing when he sees it and he wants to keep it for as long as possible.”

Daniël stands up from his chair and kneels at Steve’s feet. Resting his head against his lover’s

thigh, he starts to talk. “I can’t help wanting to see how good I still am. I don’t want to walk away

without having tried. Even if I don’t care all that much any more if this club, or any club for that

matter, is still interested in me. Even though I know I’ll have to work twice as hard as the other guys

to be seen as half as good, I want to play football.”

Almost without thought, but aware of the tenderness seeping from the tips of his fingers, Steve

caresses Daniël’s hair. “Then give yourself that chance.” He sighs. “Perhaps they have a right to their

questions; all of them, in their own way. It must be important for people to hear certain things from

me, from us. The lads took some horrible flak for what happened. I bet Arnaud Degaré didn’t even tell

half of it to spare me. Nothing to do with them, but you know how these things work. As long as we

keep in mind in the end, it’s you and me. Just love. That’s the simple truth of it.”

Daniël gets up from his knees. “Can we make love before we go? We still have a few hours. I

guess enough to have sex, give you about an hour of rest, take a shower and get to the Graces in time.”

Steve agrees that all the words in the dictionary will do nothing for them at this moment.

There’s no need to agree on every single thing they’ll say at the press conference. They won’t agree on

every single thing and they’re free to do so. There are no secrets to hide, just private things they like

to keep private. But a smile and a joke should be enough for that. Painful, embarrassed silences are no

longer part of their vocabulary.

So Daniël supports Steve to the bedroom to undress him and then undress himself. For as long

as he feels like, he kisses and touches every nook and cranny of his lover’s body. Steve understands all

too well how the boy is rediscovering over and over again what is still so much a miracle to both of

them.

Steve moans when Daniël takes his cock in his mouth and swirls the head with his tongue.

“This feels so good; I’m not sure how much longer I can stop myself from coming.”

One last, lingering lick and Daniël looks up. “We could try it sideways, with you behind me.

It’s easy and gentle too. Not totally sure about having to bend one of your legs, though. We never used

this position when we still...did we?”

“Don’t think so. Any other time, I would love to try, but not right now. I need to see your face,

your eyes, when I’m inside you. I want to remember how you looked at me when they’ll be asking

their questions.”

Daniël nods his understanding, gets lube and pillows. He makes sure Steve is sitting

comfortably and prepares himself.

“Like we did on that chair.”

“Yes.” Daniël positions himself, holding Steve’s erection at the base, stabilising it enough to

be able to lower his body and breach his opening.

The first tight grip makes Steve gasp. He loves this moment of invasion, of feeling how his

lover’s body gives up its last resistance and allows him in. How close this could be to violence, and is

still such a tender, careful act. Then the head is in and a slow, smooth glide follows.

They kiss hungrily when Steve’s cock is fully inside Daniël, tasting the traces of strawberry

jam and coffee.

“God, I’m such a lucky bastard,” Daniël moans against Steve’s mouth.

“You are? I thought we had an agreement I am the lucky bastard in this relationship.” Steve

curls his fingers around Daniël’s hips to keep him from moving just a little bit longer. He grins

wickedly.

“You wish. Not only am I getting married to the sweetest, bravest and let’s not forget sexiest

man I’ve ever met, he also happens to be the owner of a fat, juicy cock and right now I can feel every

glorious centimetre inside me. I totally get off on how it stretches me and fills me. No one else could

be this perfect for me. On moments like this, it feels like I was actually made for you; like I was

intended to be with you. And yes, I know how that sounds. And you know what? I don’t care how I

sound, as long as you get to hear it.”

“I don’t know what to say. I ...”

Daniël puts a finger on Steve’s lips. “Simply accept that I love you? That I couldn’t ask for

more and don’t long for anything to be different?”

He starts to move. Small, controlled. Finally he leads Steve’s right hand to his cock. “Please

...”

There is an aching tenderness in their lovemaking, an almost disbelief this is happening to

them, this is what they are doing. This is them, together. Still together.

Steve has to look at Daniël’s face. It’s impossible to close his eyes for even a fraction of a

second. All the details get, once again, etched into his memories: the brows furrowed in concentration,

the teeth worrying the lower lip, the drops of sweat, the pupils dilating until only a small rim of the

iris is visible, the vulnerably exposed throat, the inked words on his upper arms, the freckles.

“What do you see? Tell me, what is it that you see?” Daniël asks.

“Everything.” Steve struggles to even say those few words. “You.”

Steve allows himself to reach his climax first. He sees the marvel in Daniël’s smile. A few

more strokes are enough to give his lover his own pleasure.

They both sigh in regret when Steve slips his spent cock out of Daniël.

“Please, your fingers ...” Daniël mutters when they lie side by side, close enough to breathe

each other’s breath. He smiles contently when Steve reaches around, gently touches the closed but still

very relaxed rim and slides two fingers in.

“Like this?” Steve moves the middle and index fingers a bit.

“Yeah. I missed it so much all those months. Tried it with my own a few times, but it’s just not

the same. It has to be yours.”

Minutes pass in gentle half-sleep.

“I’m perfectly happy like this, but I’m afraid I have to rest for a bit. The press conference ...”

Steve retracts his fingers again, but kisses Daniël’s lips to make up for it.

“Can’t we tell Degaré and Matthew to give that press conference without us? Hey, Matthew

might even declare his undying love for Gael. Now that would really be something for the tabloids and

it would give us a bit of peace and quiet,” Daniël half jokes.

Steve feels too drowsy to give any kind of reaction but a faint smile. He can’t even get his

thoughts in a straight line, let alone say anything that would make any sense.

Then a kiss on his forehead. “Steve? Lieverd? I let you sleep for as long as possible, but I’m

afraid you have to shower and get dressed so we get to the Graces on time. Before I forget, there’s

some letter addressed to you. It looks like it was personally delivered because it has no stamp on it.

You want me to read it to you? I haven’t opened it, of course.”

Steve nods, but soon he’s too busy to remember it. The letter simply has to wait until after the

press conference. If it’s important, it would have been sent to the Three Graces Park anyway.

*

Less than half an hour later, they’re on their way. They don’t talk much in the car. Partly

because they’re too nervous but also, what’s the use of repeating the same things over and over again?

Steve expects the journalists to be curious but not overly hostile. He knows his words, and those of

Daniël’s, will be interpreted freely and even be twisted beyond recognition, but there’s not much he

can do about that. He will be asked to consider answering questions he doesn’t want to hear, and he

will answer them in some way or form. What’s the use in him being there otherwise?

They are greeted by Arnaud Degaré and Matthew Kirkby.

“Remember, you have full freedom to speak your mind, or to refuse to answer any question

you don’t like,” Degaré says. “When it gets too much for you, we can stop. Oh, and Daniël? There are

some gentlemen from the Dutch press. They’d appreciate it if you could answer a few questions in

your own language.”

Daniël nods. “No problem.”

Then, to Steve, “You’re okay?”

Steve takes his crutches from Daniël and smiles. “I’m fine. You’re with me, the manager’s

with us and the captain. The best support anyone could hope for.”

“We have a pretty full house too. About fifty of them ...no, must be at least a dozen more. I

guess nearly half from abroad,” Matthew says. “It’s enough to make even me nervous.”

The words are an invitation, and Steve appreciates his captain’s (still his captain, mostly

because of Daniël, he knows all too well) gesture. “He sat there for me, all those months ago, when I

couldn’t defend myself. He trusted me implicitly. And you and Degaré were at his side. How can I not

do this?”

Matthew nods. Steve doesn’t miss the quiet sadness in his eyes, the almost-suggestion of

jealousy, but there is nothing he can do or say to make it better.

The press room is packed to a point that several journalists have to stand. It’s not easy to

ignore the rising panic for Steve, but Daniël touches his shoulder in a gesture of support. He doubts he

will be able to say anything coherent in the next hour. Staying on his feet until he’s ready to

manoeuvre himself on to his chair is hard enough as it is.

“Could have been at least twice as many, with the amount of requests we received,” Matthew

whispers in his ear. “But that’s not really helping you, is it?”

Steve can’t help but smile.

He hears Degaré cracking a few jokes with some familiar faces to break the ice; to distract

them. He never liked being the centre of attention, and he managed to avoid it with a certain aptitude

but this time, most eyes will be concentrated on his face, even if one of the others is actually doing the

talking.

He feels Daniël’s face very close to his own, their foreheads touching, and his lover’s hand

gently resting on his arm. And for a few blessed seconds there’s no one in the room but them.

Whatever happens over the next hour, he knows what does and doesn’t matter.

Like always, the questions are asked in polite voices. They’re professionals, doing a job.

First it’s Arnaud Degaré and Matthew Kirkby talking, giving Steve an opportunity to gather his

thoughts. The usual and well-meant words, he has to admit, are a palatable mixture of club politics

and friendship.

Mr Degaré, you’re reconsidering Daniël Borghart’s future with the club?

“Any consideration has to do with his performances during training and matches. I expect him

to be available for the first team in a few weeks. We have very strong and motivated defenders, and

he’s definitely one of them.”

What about the reactions from the stands?

“The same rules apply like always. Football is a sport with...how shall we put it...its own

unique character and we accept that, but only up to a certain point. You might have noticed the

continuous support from many Kinbridge Town supporters for Daniël and Steve. And by far, not all

fans from our opponents express themselves in an inappropriate manner regarding this subject.”

There has been a remarkable progress in the club’s performances during the past five years,

you’re not afraid that might come to a sudden halt after this?

“Why should it? KTFC has now established itself firmly at the top half of the table and we’re

hungry for more. You gentlemen and ladies might have noticed that we are part of a very strong

competition. And we play to win.”

Mr Kirkby, a word about Daniël Borghart from the captain?

“A hard worker, nice lad, too. Great talent. We’re looking forward to his full return.”

You know what we’re really asking. Now that you know, does it make a difference?

“I assume you’re referring to the dressing room? Steve has been part of our team for five

years, and none of us had any idea about him. You know him, quiet sort of guy. Sweetest bloke ever,