Not Just Any Old Port

The 30+ years of the English Frisbee League had seen an activity which was formerly confined to parks and beaches become the number one team sport in the country, generating billions in revenue and creating an army of devoted, and often rabid, fans.

       Of course, everyone had their favourites. There were a couple of Cities, a few Towns, a multiplicity of Uniteds, but there was only one Metroport. And in terms of sheer romance, who could ask for more? The most popular club in the land, with the most domestic titles and the most European Cups as well. They played in red, they sweated red, and their supporters shouted, sang and swore in the darkest, deepest tones that red had to offer.

       Metroport’s players were heroes to young and old alike. And if you happened to be part of a gilded generation like Jake Bartholomew, handler extraordinaire, then you were practically guaranteed the status of living legend, even at the age of 25.

       Serial Championship winner, Frisbee Association Cup winner, European Cup winner, England international, Jake had ticked all the available boxes. But perhaps most pointedly, he’d done so for his childhood club. For never did the phrase ‘man and boy’ fit more aptly than in Jake’s case. He’d come through every academy that Metroport could provide. He’d been educated by them, trained by them, even accommodated by them. Not only that, but he probably had the most recognisable Metroport accent in the country!

       You could say, then, that all was rubicund in Jake’s garden. Metroport were on course to win the title for the umpteenth time and a new (and very much improved) contract was there on the table. The only problem was that he didn’t want to sign it. He wanted to move to Gimnastica Salamanca.

       His brother and agent, Kaison, wanted it too. Perhaps even more than Jake.

       Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before word ‘somehow’ got out that Jake might be willing to listen to offers. And when it did, there were ructions.

JAKE SEEKS NEW HORIZONS

BARTHOLOMEW IN TALKS WITH SPANISH GIANTS

       For whereas Metroport had won a handful of European titles, Salamanca had captured more than a dozen. And while Metroport were proposing £3 million a year, Salamanca were offering £5 million. The attraction was quite clear. Well, at least Jake thought so. Some were less convinced.

       “Wha’s that?” Jake asked Kaison as they were driving to the training ground.

       “Tha’s an effigy.”

       “An effin’ what?”

       “An effigy!”

       “Huh?”

       “A representation.” Jake still looked blank. “Of you.”

       “Why’s it got such big ears?”

       Kaison nodded towards the rear-view mirror. “Ask yourself, lad.”

       Jake put a hand towards his ear. He seemed more confused than ever.

       “JUDAS!”

       “SNAKE!”

       Something hit the Merc as Jake navigated the crowd that had gathered outside the entrance to the Metro Facility.

       “Fukkin’ hell! Wha’ was that?”

       Kaison looked round. “Fist? Rock, maybe?”

       “Rock?”

       “Rock or brick. Wha’s the difference?”

       “The difference is my bloody paintwork!”

       “Ah, just chill. This time next year you’ll be in a Lambo swannin’ it round Salamanca …”

       Jake growled. But this was only the beginning.

METROPORT FANS BURN BARTHOLOMEW SHIRTS!

METROPORT WIN DESPITE BARTHOLOMEW ERRORS

JAKE REVEALS DEATH THREATS

      Finally Jake was forced - literally, by Kaison - to address the furore around his departure. The medium was Frisbee Focus and the atmosphere was gentle and reverent.

       “Lissen, I’ve been at the club for nearly twenty years. It’s been like a second home. A second family.” Jake gazed into the distance. “But I believe the time’s right to look for a new challenge.”

       “Is there any truth in the rumour,” Jacqui Scorr asked, “that you’ve made a verbal agreement to sign for Gimnastica Salamanca?”

       “No. Nor at all. As I say, this is jus’ about me and Metroport. I’ve lived in the same city, played for the same club, all me life. I just wanna experience somethin’ different.”

       And to some, this made perfect sense. To others, however - and these were the people who encircled his car, his house, his workplace on a daily basis - he was scum. A traitor. An abomination.

       “He’s one of us,” a young and very indignant Metroport fan said on camera before a match. “We made him. An’ now he’s runnin’ his contract down an’ we’re nor even gerrin’ a penny!”

       “Salamanca! What’s Salamanca to him?” his mate chipped in. “He couldn’t even find ruddy Salamanca on a map!”

       Which was technically true. Luckily, though, the club was able to find it for him, because - twist of all twists - the two teams had been drawn against each other in the semi-final of the European Cup and the first leg was away at Salamanca.

       In the event, Jake might have been left wishing they’d taken the wrong turn.

NIGHTMARE FOR BARTHOLOMEW!

JAKE CAN’T HANDLE IT

      Undermined by the total desertion of their key man’s form, Metroport played so badly that the second leg was effectively over before it even began. All the management could do in the return fixture was to introduce some fresh blood and hope to salvage a modicum of pride.

BARTHOLOMEW DROPPED

       And yes, they lost the tie. But against a very strong Salamanca team, their youngsters put up a show that could only bode well for the future, with Jake’s replacement, Jamie Deaves, proving to be something of a revelation.

A STAR IS BORN!

      Sadly, Salamanca’s interest in Jake began to cool. So did Metroport’s, as Jamie Deaves finished the season on a high.

       Jake announced a huge U-turn in the midst of the club’s league title celebrations. Misty eyed, he told the media that he was prepared to stay. “One medal at Metroport is worth ten anywhere else,” he explained. But the club didn’t offer him a new deal.

       “What do I do now?” Jake asked Kaison.

       Kaison thought about it long and hard. “Well, you were always quite good at football …”