Look Away Now

The true story of the lengths my grandad went to to avoid hearing the football score.

————

Tom was just finishing his shift at the butchers shop on Thursday afternoon, when the shop owner, Louis patted him on the arm.

‘You okay to work Saturday afternoon, Tom. We’re really short staffed.’ Louis said.

Tom felt the panic wash over him. Not Saturday afternoon. Not this Saturday. The big football game was this Saturday. 

‘Saturday afternoon? It’s the big game. If I can’t get a ticket then I’ll be at least watching the match in the pub.’ Tom said, untying his apron.

‘Come on, Tom. You’d be really helping me out.’

This was ridiculous. The butchers had lots of staff, surely one of the others could cover.

‘You’ll have to find someone else. I’m not missing the game.’ Tom insisted.

‘There is nobody else. Billy’s on holiday in Blackpool with the kids, and Jimmy’s off sick. Folks won’t want a butcher with a stomach upset serving them, anyway.’

‘What about Sarah? She’ll do you a favour. She’s a grafter.’ Tom said.

‘Sarah’s going to the game herself. She’s a season ticket holder. Never misses a game.’

‘Looks like I’m missing this one then, doesn’t it?’ Tom growled.

‘I’ll give you a day off in the week.’ Louis said.

‘And pay me double time?’ Tom said.

‘Time and a half?’ 

‘Deal.’ Tom agreed.

Tom was in his fifties and had been a Manchester United fan since he was a kid. United was his passion. He had been married to Mary for over twenty five years. They had three kids. Their youngest son, Alan, in his early twenties still lived at home, although there was talk of him and his girlfriend Josie moving in together at some point in the next couple of years.

Alan wasn’t really into football. Tom had given up years ago trying to convert Alan to the game. None of their kids were massive football fans. Alan was more into books and history and all that. The only history Tom was interested in was the history of his beloved Manchester United. He could reel off the years they had won trophies, and list the names of the players in the winning team. 

And this Saturday he would be missing the biggest game of the season. Man United were playing their neighbours Manchester City. This was the highlight of the season for Tom. He knew some United fans who hated Liverpool more than City, but for Tom, the matches against their Manchester rivals was the grudge match they just had to win. 

Tom arrived home that evening. He found his wife, Mary, in the kitchen, at the table reading the evening newspaper over a mug of tea.

As she poured him a cup of tea from the pot, Tom explained how he would be working Saturday afternoon rather than watching the match.

‘I can’t believe I’m gonna miss the game. Gutted.’ He said.

‘You could always watch the highlights on Match of the Day on Saturday night.’

‘But I’ll know the score, won’t I?’ Tom said.

‘Not necessarily. You’ll just have to avoid the score. Make a point of avoiding it. The television news always says that if you want to avoid the score, look away now. They just show the results on screen and not read them out.’

As he sipped his tea he thought it over. That just might work. While he wouldn’t catch the full ninety minutes, he would see the best part of the game, and if he could avoid finding out the result, then it would be the next best thing. It would be almost like watching it live.

And so, on Saturday Tom reported to work for the afternoon shift at the butcher shop. He was determined to tread carefully, wanting to avoid finding anything out about the game. He made sure that the radio they sometimes played in the store was switched off. He didn’t want any sports radio station broadcasting the game. 

Ten minutes after full time, and half an hour before his shift finished, two lads came into the shop. They explained that they were hosting a barbecue that evening and wanted burgers, sausages, and kebabs. As Tom sorted out their order, the lads spoke.

‘What a match! A cracking game of football.’ One of them said.

‘Lads, can we not talk about the game? I’m gonna watch it later. No spoilers.’ Tom interrupted, waving his hands in protest.

‘Sorry, mate.’ he said.

‘Keep it to yourself and I’ll chuck in an extra couple of burgers for you.’ Tom said.

As he handed over the plastic bag full of bundles of meat, the lads grinned and told him to enjoy the game.

At the end of his shift, Tom removed his apron and tossed it on the counter. He had made it. The shift completed. He hurried out to the car. When he started the engine, the radio came on. The announcer was reading the news headlines, detailing the latest lies that the government were promising the public. Then she moved on to the sports headlines.

And in sport, it was a big day for Manchester… the announcer began.

Tom snapped the radio off, breathing heavily in the silence. Phew, that was close. He drove the long way home, rather than his usual direct route. He avoided driving down the main road, by the pubs on the high street. The sight of fans cheering and celebrating, dressed in red or blue, would reveal the winners.

When he pulled up outside the house, he spotted a neighbour walking up the street. He always talked football with the neighbour, what else? This evening, though, the last thing Tom wanted was to get talking, while the well-meaning neighbour revealed the out-come of the match. 

As he locked the car, his neighbour called out, Hello Tom. Tom simply waved and dashed through the front door. He slammed the door shut behind him as though he was being chased.

Finally, he was home. It was safe. He had made it to work, through his shift and back home without anyone revealing the score. He could now relax and enjoy the match highlights. He smiled to himself. He just hoped United had won the game after all this.

Tom was finally settling down to watch the football highlights. He grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and made himself comfortable in the armchair. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

There was a knock at the door. Mary went to answer it. Tom heard her call upstairs to Alan that his girlfriend Josie was here. Mary showed Josie through to the living room.

‘Evening, love.’ Tom said. ‘Are you off out anywhere nice?’

‘We’re going to the cinema. That new Michael Caine film is out.’ Josie said.

As Alan joined them in the living room, zipping his coat up, Mary pointed to the television screen.

‘Tom’s just waiting for the United highlights.’ She said.

‘Oh yes,’ Josie said. ‘They won four-one.’

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom