Chapter Text
Eloise Cardinal hesitated in front of a large wall wrap of Tanisha Somers mid slide tackle.
Wearing the 24/25 home kit, Tanisha’s royal purple kit married perfectly with the sprawling green pitch, bits of mud thrown up mid-splash beneath her boots. The stadium background was blurry, but the flashes of cameras shone like stars amongst the dark crowd.
It was the defining picture of that season, perfectly encapsulating the determination and the resilience Tanisha brought to the club. Her brows furrowed, her lips tight in a severe frown, focused entirely on getting the ball out of the rival’s control and towards her teammate, who would, mere seconds later, score one of the most spectacular goals of the season.
Eloise missed that blatant determination and resilience that was synonymous with her team. She missed the constant streams of positive PR she was able to do, confidently creating the celebratory captions before the matches had even finished, beyond sure that they would win.
The latest posts had been far more commiserating.
Two losses and three draws had seen Gorthorpe plummet down the league table, and the mounting fears of relegation were doing more than just mildly worrying management.
In the last few weeks, Eloise had seen several catastrophic breakdowns in both professionality and friendships. As the club’s PR Manager, she had had to let several keen and talented social media managers go, and other clubs gobbled them up without a moment’s hesitation.
Eloise now had an incredibly small team of social media managers working far too hard, doing the jobs of multiple people, and was growing increasingly worried that if their workloads became too much, they would leave of their own volition.
Online content was crucial marketing, and with the club haemorrhaging money, social media was a lifeline under immense strain.
Eloise ran her hands over her cream blouse, straightening out non-existent creases. She knew the meeting she was about to step into was unlikely to be a pleasant one. Sighing quietly to herself, she pushed herself from the wall and turned towards the meeting room.
Pushing the door open, Eloise’s pooling dread for the meeting deepened.
Noel Perry, Gorthorpe’s Finance Manager, sat hunched over his laptop, a cup of what was undoubtedly warm water on the table in front of him.
Eloise and Perry despised one another, but due to the high-ranking positions of their jobs regularly attended meetings together to talk in tedious meetings that could very easily have been an email.
Eloise considered Perry to be a little rat of a man, whose eyes were too close together and whose nose was weirdly long and sharp.
Francesco Escoffier, the women’s first team’s manager, stood beside a monstera; his arms folded tightly across his chest. He scowled at the TV hanging on the wall, the remote clutched in his hand.
He nodded at Eloise as she pulled a chair out and took a seat opposite Perry.
“Hi, El.”
“Morning,” Eloise said, dropping her handbag on the floor. “Sorry I’m running a little behind; parking was horrendous.” She extracted a notepad and pen from her handbag. “Shall we make a start?”
Perry looked up at her without moving his head, and Eloise braced herself as he smirked.
“Oh, Francesco wouldn’t start without you, don’t you worry about that,” Perry said, almost sneering. “Though, tardiness might be something that needs to be addressed when you next apply for a raise.”
Eloise’s eyes narrowed. It was far too early in the day for Perry’s pettiness.
“I don’t make a habit of being late,” Eloise replied calmly.
Perry’s brows raised slightly.
“And yet…” he checked his watch.
“Be quiet, Perry,” Francesco said, keeping his gaze entirely on the television. “The parking is a joke, El’s right. I’ve had to park in a bush. Oh, shit.” He hastily turned the volume up on the tv. “This is it.”
Eloise followed Francisco’s gaze towards the television.
A sporting talk show was on, ‘The Sportcast’, with renown former Wales captain Arwel Morgan currently discussing the previous night’s disastrous game.
“That was a tough watch, wasn’t it?” He said to his fellow pundits. “You know I’ve never been Gorthorpe’s biggest fan, but my heart does break for them a little bit this season. They’ve had a rough time of it.”
“I agree,” Harry Frank, the former Liverpool mid-fielder, said. “It’s like watching one of those animal documentaries where a pod of killer whales bullies a penguin. You want them to do well, you want to see them win, but you know they’re no match for the tenacity of the other teams.”
“Good analogy,” Arwel agreed, and he turned to speak directly to the camera. “Although, I do believe they’re called orcas. Now, not to get caught up with the semantics of marine creatures, I’m pleased to welcome women’s football reporter Amanda Bunyan, who joins us in the studio to discuss Gorthorpe’s chances in next week’s game against Sheep Wash. So, Amanda, what do you think Gorthorpe’s biggest concern will be going into next week’s game?”
Eloise’s nose wrinkled as the camera switched to the doll-like Amanda Bunyan.
Amanda’s Mediterranean Sea-blue eyes were wide and sparkling as she beamed at her fellow pundits.
Eloise decided she didn’t want to listen to what Amanda had to say, so she pushed on with one of the main focuses of the meeting’s agenda.
“Social media engagement has decreased recently,” she began. “We believe that fans want to see training material rather than the usual upbeat leisurely content, so we’ve already started…”
“Quiet, El,” Francesco said, cutting her off.
Eloise frowned and turned to face the television, where Amanda smiled warmly at Arwel.
“Honestly, Arwel, it’s hard to choose just one major concern right now,” she said. “I can’t imagine the tension on the training pitch after so many lost points. Sheep Wash have been nothing if not brilliant this season. Escoffier has had a challenging few months with these players and, after so many successive losses, I’m just not sure this team has the gall to even compete in this league. They’ve lost the ferocity, that fierceness, that was synonymous with their club last season. We’re halfway through, and they simply look exhausted.”
Arwel sucked in a tight breath. “That’s harsh, Amanda.”
“It’s the truth,” Amanda pressed, and despite the seriousness of her words, she was still smiling. The camera zoomed out to show the other pundits nodding gravely. “Luckily, their opponents are effortless in showcasing and complimenting the women’s game. But seriously, Arwel, have you ever seen a team that is this allegedly high-ranking perform so consistently badly? It’s embarrassing to watch. I feel sorry for the poor fans who have wasted their money on tickets.”
“So, you think relegation is coming for Gorthorpe?” Arwel asked.
“Relegation is coming for Gorthorpe in the same way you know it’s terminal just by the doctor’s tone. I hope they can bring it back, and that we get to witness some of the passion of last season, but they’re incredibly painful to watch at the moment. Harry was onto something when he compared them to a penguin, but at least in those documentaries the penguin tries to escape. Gorthorpe aren’t putting up any sort of defence – literally and metaphorically. Watching their passiveness, you almost feel like their impending relegation is not only inevitable but also deserved.”
Arwel laughed uncomfortably.
“Wow. What do you think is the main cause of their terminal status?”
“Leadership, primarily,” Amanda replied, without missing a beat. “Tanisha Somers has a right foot kissed by God, but she is simply not captain standard. Don’t get me wrong, she was brilliant as the underdog, but underdogs don’t make good captains. Gorthorpe needs a leader, not a personality hire. There are some cracking players on that pitch, but they lack cohesion. They’re directionless. It’s Somers’s job to unite them, but instead they act like a thrown together team in a primary school PE class.”
A wave of frustration surged through Eloise.
“And what about Escoffier?” Arwel asked. “You said he’s had a challenging few months with these players. Do you think the team’s downfall is solely down to Somers’s leadership, or Escoffier’ as well?”
“Escoffier is used to men’s football,” Amanda said, her smile growing. “And I’m sorry to say, but these ladies require a different style of coaching. Escoffier is an incredibly competent manager, but I fear his talents are wasted on Gorthorpe.”
“But surely the mark of a good manager is that they can manage the unmanageable?” Frank asked. “If the girls’ performances are declining that dramatically, some of the blame must lie with Escoffier.”
Amanda straightened slightly.
“Tactically, the ladies are sound on paper,” she replied, “but when they get onto the pitch there seems to be a collapse in skill. The attack comes from the opposition and Gorthorpe lose their competency. It’s almost like they get stage fright.”
Francesco jabbed the power button on the remote and threw it onto the glass boardroom table. It clattered towards a small potted plant, the flowers wilting slightly.
“We’re going after Bunyan for that terminal comment, right?” He asked the room at large. “Aren’t we?”
“Already on it,” Perry replied, tapping away on his laptop.
“Terminal just by the doctor’s tone… What a disgusting thing to say…” Francesco flopped into a chair and nursed his forehead, scowling at the reflection of the lights on the table. “Is she trying to get a rise out of Tanisha, do you think?”
Eloise watched him closely, playing absentmindedly with the ring on her index finger.
“More than likely,” she replied. “You know what she’s like. She’s rage bait personified. I’ll tell Tanisha to keep off the socials.”
“That’s a bit of an overstatement.” Perry said disparagingly. “And why shouldn’t Tanisha have a pop at her? All publicity is good, you should know that.”
Eloise blinked slowly to supress her glare.
“We’re already the hot topic because of our scores. We don’t need any more bad publicity, especially not our captain having it out with Princess Pundit.”
“She’s trying to get a reaction out of Tanisha. Out of us,” Francesco said firmly, either deliberately ignoring them both, or so deep in thought he had forgotten how to listen.
“I agree.” Perry nodded quickly. “She’s bang out of order. It’s just rage bait.”
Eloise shook her head disbelievingly at Perry.
“It’s not like we’re not trying…” Francesco continued. “The girls are working hard. Really hard.”
“I know,” Perry agreed.
“And they’re so dedicated.”
“I know.”
“But as it currently stands, their best just isn’t good enough.” Escoffier sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, then he turned to look at Eloise. “She could’ve phrased it better, but that Bunyan bitch might be onto something. What do you reckon, El?”
Eloise hesitated.
“I think…” she chewed her lip. “I think the girls are trying their hardest, and Tanisha is great as captain, but I think the problems with the team lie elsewhere, and that’s largely what the fans are complaining about on the socials, too. Bunyan is right. Tactically, the girls are great on paper, but they’ve lost their determination.”
“What’re the fans saying?” Escoffier asked, scratching his beard.
“Well… Mostly, the fans’ main complaints are about the club rather than the players,” Eloise said, trying to keep her tone measured. “They’re very worried about players ditching the club altogether. Gorthorpe is lucky in that we’ve always had such a loyal fan base, but I’m worried we’re going to lose the fans altogether if the club doesn’t start respecting the players rather than treating them like an inconvenience…”
“I refute that,” Perry interrupted sharply. “We look after our players. We even brought in that counsellor when Tanisha’s mum died.”
Anger immediately flared inside Eloise.
The counsellor made one appearance, where he unhelpfully suggested that Tanisha “continue to get out onto the pitch and make your mother proud.”
Tanisha’s mum was staunchly against her daughter’s career, and their relationship was a strained one at the best of times.
In fact, their relationship became so bad at one point that Tanisha was considering filing for a restraining order against her mum. The only reason Tanisha dropped it was because of her mum’s late-stage cancer diagnosis.
The counsellor had refused to return after Tanisha exploded at him.
Eloise remained staunchly on Tanisha’s side in the resulting arguments between Tanisha and most of the management team.
“You did…” Eloise nodded slowly, “and I’m sure Tanisha found lots of benefits in that hour-long discussion, but there are other things to consider. Relocating the training ground, for instance. Oak Cottage is…”
“Oak Cottage is perfectly fine,” Perry interrupted again.
Eloise pursed her lips. “There’s not even enough car parking spaces,” she pointed out steadily. “I had to park on double-yellow lines today, and I still had to walk for twenty minutes to get here. The girls have to do that every single morning.”
Perry shrugged.
“Cycle, then,” he said. “Get the girls to cycle. You know the club is trying to lower its carbon footprint… Hey, actually,” he clapped his hands together triumphantly. “That’ll look good in your social media campaign, won’t it? Green Gorthorpe… That’s catchy. I’ll email you the bill for my copywriting skills.” He winked and went back to typing.
Eloise rolled her eyes.
“You’re too kind,” she said sweetly. “But you’re missing the main issue here. I don’t live anywhere near here and none of the players do, either. Cycling isn’t an option for me or them. The stadium is in Ealing, the original training ground is in Ealing, and you’ve moved the training ground to St Albans. The commute is fine but at least make sure that the girls have somewhere to park when they get here. It just adds unnecessary stress for them.”
“The men have to travel too,” Perry said, still typing on his laptop and entirely skating over Eloise’s central point. “Most of them live in Zone 1 and 2, or out in the countryside. We can’t relocate the training ground just to appease a couple of players.”
Eloise leaned forwards; her arms crossed on the table.
“I’m not complaining about the distance the girls have to travel. They’re used to travelling. What I’m complaining that there’s no where to park. You want the girls in the right frame of mind when they walk into training? The bare minimum you can do is make sure they’re not wasting fifteen minutes trying to find somewhere to park ten streets away. It’s entirely avoidable stress, and if we can’t even get parking right, what else are we getting wrong?”
“Why’s this on me?” Perry asked, affronted. “The club’s financial team - not just me - looked at all possible options and their solutions, and relocating the women’s team to Oak Cottage was the most viable option by far. The lack of car parking spaces was one minor con in a million pros.”
“You and I both know that there aren’t a million pros to this place,” Eloise said. “Oak Cottage might be best for the bank in the short term, but it’s definitely not best for the players, which is why we’re now seeing this decline in performance,” Eloise argued. “The facilities here are inadequate, and every single week our girls are going up against teams who have solid support, decent funding, and a management team who actually work for the betterment of the club. That’s the issue here. We won’t see progress unless we allow the girls to progress.”
“Don’t have a go at me about it,” Perry said, finally looking up at Eloise.
“I’m not having a go at you,” Eloise said, trying to maintain her composure. “It’s just frustrating to see the team work so hard and receive, what I believe is, inadequate support from the club.”
Perry leaned back in his chair. He knitted his fingers together.
“You’re very welcome to work for a different club,” he said. “If you’re so dissatisfied with the management style here.”
Eloise glared at him. However, just as she opened her mouth to argue, Francesco brought the argument to a dull close.
“Don’t be an idiot, Perry,” Francesco said. He sounded more bored than anything, though Eloise couldn’t quite understand why that irked her so much.
Perry scowled and raised an eyebrow at Eloise.
“El’s great, and she’s right. El, get the girls to send their parking fines to finance department, if they have any, so they can be reimbursed. Perry, either work on more car parking spaces or organise a shuttle bus for the girls, and that can be part of your Green Gorthorpe campaign.”
“I’m not doing a Green Gorthorpe campaign,” Eloise began to point out, but Francesco spoke over her.
“We really need to tighten up,” he said. “I’ll arrange some teambuilding exercises.”
“Good idea,” Eloise mumbled.
“Alright, I’m calling this meeting officially over. El, go and check on Tanisha. If she’s heard what the old Bunyan Bitch has said she’ll be kicking off, and we need to save that anger for the pitch.” Francisco scratched his head. “I’ll head down to the pitch in a minute.”
Eloise stood and grabbed her handbag off the floor.
“Right, I’ll see you later. Perry.” She nodded once to Perry, who responded with the same curt nod, before striding from the room.