Chapter Text
AFC Richmond’s first season after the departure of Coach Lasso was off to a good start. Or, as good of a start as could be expected. Everyone had been a little apprehensive about adjusting to the change at first, but in spite of Ted’s absence, it hadn’t taken them long to find their rhythm. A new season was always going to bring changeups across the league. They were hardly alone on that front.
“Have you heard about Man City’s new striker?” Jamie demanded as he walked into the locker room one morning, glued to his phone. Most of the team was already there.
“You’re late, Tartt.” Roy said, standing in the doorway to the coach’s office.
Jamie waved his hand dismissively at him, not looking up from what he was reading on his phone screen. “Shh-shh-shh!” He said, earning him an eyebrow raise from Roy. “Seriously, have any of you heard this shit?”
“I heard he is good,” Sam said with a shrug, glancing over at Jamie.
“Yeah, but have you heard what they’re calling him?” Jamie asked.
Isaac walked over and took Jamie’s phone from him (ignoring his protests). He looked at what he’d been reading and grinned. “Liam Walsh,” He read aloud, “The new Jamie Tartt.”
“It’s bullshit!” Jamie cried, throwing his hands up.
Isaac kept reading. “It’s impossible to ignore the similarities between Manchester City’s new rising star and their former one, current AFC Richmond player Jamie Tartt. These days, Tartt may be scoring goals for Richmond, but he made his name in Manchester, and while Manchester City’s roster has been solid for the last several seasons, no one has quite been able to fill the hole that Tartt left behind. Walsh’s record speaks for itself, however, and if his first few matches are any indication, Manchester supports soon won’t even remember the name ‘Jamie Tartt’.” Isaac whistled, looking amused. “Ouch.” He said, tossing Jamie’s phone back to him.
“That’s not even the only article like that,” Jamie said. “They’re all saying it. And now it’s taking off on social media too. It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. We can’t be that similar.”
“I don’t know.” Colin said thoughtfully. He was on his phone now too.
“Did you just google him?” Jamie demanded.
“Yeah.” Colin said without a hint of shame. “There are definitely parallels between his career and yours, but that’s not even the end of it. He grew up in Manchester, raised by divorced parents, started playing football at a young age,”
“We all started playing football at a young age!” Jamie insisted. “We’re footballers! That’s what happens!”
“Hey, did you see this interview he did?” Zoreaux spoke up, also on his phone.
“Stop googling him!” Jamie said, rounding on Zoreaux.
“They asked him about his idols in football.” Zoreaux said, like Jamie hadn’t spoken. “Check out who’s first on the list. Roy Kent.”
Roy gave a nod. “As it fucking should be.” He said.
“Look at this quote from one of his teammates about him.” Colin said, while Sam leaned over his shoulder to see his phone. “They said, ‘he can be a bit of a prick, but he’s got a heart of gold.’ I think I described you with those exact words once.”
“Okay, everybody shut up.” Jamie said. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. There’s no way he’s as good as me.”
“He is stylistically and competently comparable to you.” Roy said matter-of-factly. “Not necessarily better, mind you, but notable.” Jamie gave him a look of disbelief, and Roy said, “What, do you think I don’t keep tabs on potential threats?”
“He’s not a threat!” Jamie cried.
“He could be, if you don’t stay on top of your game.” Roy retorted. There was a pause as Jamie crossed his arms over his chest, looking deeply annoyed. “Keeley thinks he’s sexy.” Roy added.
Jamie turned to him. “Shut your stupid mouth.” He warned, pointing at Roy.
Roy smiled a little, amused. “Well, if he bothers you so much, then you better give everything you’ve got to showing him up at the Man City match next week.” He said. “Put him in his place.”
Jamie nodded slowly. “Roy’s right.” He said, turning back to the rest of the locker room.
“Nobody thought he wasn’t right.” Bumbercatch told him.
Jamie pretended not to hear him. “Come on, lads.” He said, going up to his locker. He was energized all of a sudden, the prospect of proving himself on the pitch putting a new drive in his eyes. “We’ve got work to do.”
“Shit.” Roy said. “If I’d known that this was all it took to motivate you, I would’ve started comparing you to other players ages ago.”
“Fuck off.” Jamie told him. Roy retreated into his office, and the others went back to their various conversations that they had been having before Jamie’s entrance. Jamie paused, looking at the article on his phone one last time before rolling his eyes and turning it off. “Fucking bullshit,” He mumbled under his breath, and then he got ready for practice.
For the next week, it was hard to get Jamie to talk about anything except the upcoming Man City match. When he wasn’t talking about it, or training with a determination that Dani described as “terrifying,” he was on his phone, failing to pretend like he wasn’t obsessing over the social media coverage of the perceived “rivalry” between him and Liam Walsh. It would hardly be the first time that one of them had gotten tunnel vision, but Jamie was the type who would usually mask his frustration and anxiety. He either wasn’t succeeding or wasn’t bothering this time, and that probably said more about his mental state than anything else.
By the time they were finally on their way to the Man City match, this came to a head.
Isaac was sitting towards the front of the bus, talking to Colin and Maas, when he felt his phone vibrate. He checked and was confused to see a text from Sam, who, as far as he remembered, was only a few rows behind him.
Sam: I think this is the longest he’s ever gone without talking. Not a word since we left.
Isaac twisted around in his seat and looked back through the bus. Sam was sitting next to Jamie, who was on his phone. Sam looked up, made eye contact with Isaac, and nodded to Jamie. Isaac sighed and texted back.
Isaac: Switch spots with me.
“I’ve got to deal with something.” He told the others as he got up. Sam, who had seen his text, stood up too, and they squeezed past each other in the aisle. Sam took Isaac’s place in the conversation with Colin and Maas, and Isaac settled next to Jamie.
Jamie didn’t seem to have even noticed the shuffling seating arrangements. His eyes were focused on his phone as he scrolled, a frown pulling at his face. “Jamie.” Isaac said. He got no response. Isaac narrowed his eyes and leaned closer, looking at him intently. “Jamie.” He said again. Still nothing. Then he reached over and swatted the phone out of Jamie’s hands. Jamie jumped and scrambled to catch it.
“What the hell?” He demanded, finally looking at Isaac. Then his frown morphed into confusion. “Hang on, didn’t you used to be Sam?”
“You’ve got to stop letting this Liam Walsh stuff get into your head,” Isaac said. “It’s not even him getting into your head. He hasn’t said shit. It’s other people putting him into your head.”
After a moment, Jamie sighed, hanging his head. “I know.” He said. “I know. I’m trying.”
“Look, I get it.” Isaac said. “We’ve all had to listen to people talk about how other players are better than us. It’s shit, but it’s part of the game. You can’t let it get to you. It’s not like you’ve never been compared to anyone before.”
“I know.” Jamie said again. “It’s just…I see all these pictures of him, next to pictures of me, and I just…I get this weird feeling in my stomach. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why it gets to me so much. I’m trying to ignore it.”
Isaac gave a thoughtful nod. “Is it because your old team replaced you with a newer model?” He asked.
Jamie gave him a look. “Is this still supposed to be making me feel better?”
“My point is, we’re never going to do that.” Isaac said. “I mean, we didn’t replace Roy with a newer model until he retired, and he played for ages.”
“Fuck off, McAdoo.” Roy’s voice called through the bus, making both Isaac and Jamie look up.
“Wow,” Isaac said in mild surprise, “I really didn’t think he could hear me.”
“Yeah, his hearing’s actually a bit scary.” Jamie said, craning his neck to get a look at Roy.
Isaac looked at Jamie. “No more social media, alright?” He said. “This is just like any other match. The thing about being the new Jamie Tartt is that it doesn’t mean anything without the original Jamie Tartt, right?”
Jamie smiled a little. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Isaac.”
Isaac clapped him on the shoulder. “Right. Let’s talk about something else. Get your mind off it.”
And Jamie tried. He really did. But he couldn’t get that feeling in the pit of his stomach to go away.
Richmond lost, but they didn’t go down without a fight.
As soon as the match started, Jamie was quick to locate Liam on the pitch. Liam seemed to have done the same to him, because they made eye contact almost immediately. Liam grinned and winked at him. Jamie felt something surge in his chest. He was going to annihilate this little fucker.
The thing was, the press hadn’t been lying about him being good. He was good. Really, really good. But Jamie was good too. And facing off against him on the pitch…well…it was kind of fun.
Liam was aggressive, but not without strategy. He knew when to go for it and when to concede to his teammates. His execution was masterful, and when he scored the first goal of the match, Jamie was – begrudgingly – impressed. Then Liam turned to him and stuck his tongue out. Tripping him and knocking him to the ground about thirty seconds later might have been a little personal.
As the match continued in a similar fashion, however, it started to feel less like a rivalry and more like a game. It was obvious that Liam was showing off. And, well, no one was more of a show-off than Jamie Tartt, so he started showing off right back. The final score was 2-1, and Jamie scored Richmond’s one goal. He couldn’t help but immediately turn to see Liam’s reaction and was pleased to see Liam’s looking mildly impressed too. He noticed Jamie looking and gave him a small mock bow. Jamie couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.
When the final whistle blew, Jamie was exhausted. Every match came with an adrenaline rush, but this one had been especially intense, and he could already feel the crash coming. He collapsed onto his back on the grass, taking a moment to catch his breath. A minute later, a hand was extended to him, and he looked up to see who it belonged to, expecting it to be one of his teammates, but it wasn’t. It was Liam.
“Well played.” Liam said.
Jamie hesitated, and then took his hand, letting him pull him to his feet. “Same to you.” He said.
“Thanks.” Liam said with a grin. “I thought we should meet properly, since everyone has decided we’re sworn enemies or some shit.”
Jamie snorted. “You’ve seen that too, then?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s inescapable.” Liam said. “Sorry about that, by the way. I tried not to stoke it, but you know how it is once the press has found an angle they like.”
“Eh, it’s not your fault,” Jamie, who had been consumed by this press coverage for over a week, said dismissively. “Besides, they’re not wrong about you. You’ve got some moves.”
“High praise, coming from you.” Liam said. “I’ve heard a lot about you, you know. From the lads.”
Jamie gave an uncertain scoff. “Oh, I dread to think.”
“They talk a lot of shit, but I can tell that deep down, they respect you.” Liam said. Jamie cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at him, and he amended, “Okay, really deep down. Buried under many layers of bitterness and resentment. And maybe ‘respect’ isn’t so much the word as ‘jealousy.’ The point is, I’ve heard a lot of big talk about you and how good you are.”
“Oh yeah?” Jamie asked. “And did I live up to expectations?”
Liam’s grin widened. “Oh, absolutely!” He laughed. “I feel unworthy before the king! Seriously, that goal was a thing of beauty.”
It had been years since compliments about his football had made Jamie self-conscious, but now he found himself unexpectedly flustered. “Oh, well…thanks.” He said, running his hand through his hair.
Liam reached out and clasped his hand again. “I figure if we show that we’re friends it’ll take some of the wind out of the press’s sails.” He said. “I’m sure your team isn’t going to be sticking around, but next time you’re in Manchester we should get a drink or something, yeah?”
“Oh…yeah. Sure. Great.” Jamie said, his brain needing a moment to catch up. “Count on it.”
“Great.” Liam said. He let go of Jamie’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. “See you around, Jamie.”
“Yeah!” Jamie said, turning to watch him go. “Bye.” His stomach was doing little flips, and there was a warmth in his chest. He felt…
He didn’t know how he felt, but it was weird. He was probably just tired. Yeah, that was it. He was just tired. No need to read into that.
This time, no sooner had Jamie sat down on the bus than Roy dropped into the seat next to him. “Hey,” Jamie said, looking at him expectantly.
“Hey,” Roy replied, sounding like his usual “Roy Kent” self. “I saw you talking to Walsh after the match. I just wanted to make sure that we’re not going to have a problem.”
“Problem?” Jamie asked, frowning.
“Yeah, you know, making sure that you two aren’t goading each other or some shit.” Roy said. “We can’t have you getting this lost in your head every time your names get mentioned in the same article.”
“Oh, no. No goading. We were just saying hello.” Jamie said. “Honestly, I kind of like him.”
Roy raised his eyebrows at him. “You…like him.”
“Yeah,” Jamie said. “He’s actually really nice.”
“He’s…nice.”
“Yeah. You know…I feel kinda bad. I was such a prick to him during the match. I tripped him on purpose.”
Roy gave him an incredulous look. “That’s how the fucking game is played!” He cried. “You’ve probably tripped nearly all the players in the league!”
“Yeah, but the point is, he wasn’t even mad.” Jamie insisted. “He was super nice afterwards. He didn’t have to be, but he was.” He noticed the way that Roy was looking at him and frowned. “What?”
“You’ve been complaining about this guy nonstop for over a week,” Roy said, “And now you’re going on about how nice he is?”
“Yeah, so?” Jamie said, shrugging. “I was wrong, whatever. Look, he and I talked, and he doesn’t like the whole ‘rivalry’ thing either, so we’re just going to be friends and ignore the press coverage.”
Roy contemplated this for a few seconds. “Okay,” He said, “That’s surprisingly mature of you.”
“Yeah, so?” Jamie cried defensively. “I’m a grown-up! He’s a grown-up! We’re all grown-ups, Roy! What’s the big deal?”
“Alright, alright, calm the fuck down.” Roy said, already starting to get up. “As long as there isn’t going to be a problem, I don’t care how you feel about him.”
“Why would there be a problem? You’re looking way too much into this, Roy. I feel super normal about it.” Jamie said. Roy paused to look at him again, and Jamie, who had enough self-awareness to recognize that this was a weird thing to say, curled into himself a little. “I’m tired. Can we do the whole match breakdown later?”
Roy sighed. “Sure,” He said, completing his previous move to get up. Then he paused again. “He also tripped you.” He pointed out.
“I said I’m tired!” Jamie cried, already putting his earbuds in.
“Alright, alright, whatever.” Roy grumbled, and he walked away. Jamie sunk deeper into his seat and looked out the window.
He couldn’t stop replaying his conversation with Liam in his head.