King GeorgeA Story by steve A man realises his life isn't worth living, and then something unexpected happens.  King George The stadium was full to the brim of people watching the game, and for many this was their only true passion. Every Saturday they’d come in their droves to support the team, always hoping for a win. On this day the rain fell hard causing deep puddles on the pitch. Because there was only fifteen minutes left the game went on through the terrible downpour, which amused some with their constant chanting. With seven minutes to go one of the players from the other squad was badly injured, causing him to scream out in pain while he writhed about on the ground. “Get up, you p***y,” grunted a young man who sat a couple of seats away from George. George turned his head, unimpressed with the comment. “That’s a terrible thing to say, Colin.” “I don’t care,” he replied, folding his arms. “He’s a p***y. End of.” George tutted. The younger generation, he thought. “He might be badly injured.” Colin laughed, before saying in a sarcastic sort of way, “Yeah, right.” George had known Colin since he was a nipper. He used to come to the matches with his dad. This is where he first met them, but sadly the father had died. And ever since this, Colin had grown a temper which worried George at times. Two minutes into extra time the greatest thing happened and Norwich scored another goal, meaning they had won the game. George stood up applauding them. At this moment in time he felt so happy. The player who’d scored was someone he admired immensely. He remembered in the good old days when this certain player’s dad used to play, and to him he was the greatest footballer he had ever known. “Well done,” he shouted, clapping his hands. All of a sudden his head didn’t feel right. His vision became blurry. He got back into his seat breathing quite heavily. All around him he heard people singing joyously. His left arm felt strange. Please, god, not now. George closed his eyes trying not to panic. Within a minute he started to feel a little better. He opened his eyes and everything was back to normal. “We did it,” shouted someone as they patted him on the back. He peered up and Colin stood above him with a concerned look. “Are you okay, George? You look really pale like you’ve seen a ghost.” George didn’t know what to say, and answered the best he could, “I’m not sure. I’ll sit here for a minute I think. I’ve just had a strange turn.” With worry in his eyes Colin sat down in the now empty seat which was beside George. “I’ll wait with you until you feel better, mate.” George turned his head so he faced him, and with a slight smile on his face, said, “Thank you, Colin. That means a lot.” A few seconds later the stadium was near enough empty. A man wearing a tracksuit appeared. George watched him as he made his way down to where they sat. “Come on, guys. It’s time to leave,” he said politely enough. Colin was the first one to speak. “My mate here has had a strange turn. I’m keeping him company until he’s ready to leave.” The man who was quite large waddled over slightly out of breath. In his left hand he held a walkie-talkie. “Are you all right, mate,” he said, staring at George. George peered up at him, before answering wearily, “I’m not sure. I’m quite scared if the truth be told.” Straight away the man seemed worried. “I’ll call you an ambulance. Just stay here and rest.” George then saw him talk nervously into the thing he had hold of, and a sense of dread came over him. “I hope it’s nothing, Colin. I really do.” Some minutes later a siren was heard in the far distance as it headed towards them at great speed. ...................................................................................................................................................... At the end of the bed stood a doctor and a nurse, both examining him with their educated eyes. The doctor then said in a quite serious tone, “Hello, George. It’s nice to meet you.” He looked up at them petrified, before replying, “So what’s wrong with me?” The nurse who was in her thirties made her way out of the ward heading down the corridor. The doctor took his glasses off and taking a couple of steps sat down beside the bed, then said, “I have something to tell you, but please don’t worry.” George listened patiently as the doctor explained what was wrong with him. ...................................................................................................................................................... He sat on the chair at home. The place was a mess. I’m so sorry for letting you down, he thought, looking at the photo of his wife while she smiled. Loneliness was felt. A tear ran down his cheek. He’d only got home today from spending a week in hospital. The tablets he needed to take sat on the cabinet beside the television. George still didn’t feel right. Since his heart attack he had trouble breathing and sometimes standing up he would get a dizzy spell. He needed to clean the house, as his wife who he missed with all his heart would disapprove. “I’ll get right on it, my dear,” he muttered as he slowly rose from the chair. “But the way I am at the moment, I mustn’t hurry.” In the kitchen was some polish so he could wipe round and make the place cleaner. In the doorway he thought back to what the doctor had said. He shuddered at the thought. No more football matches for a little while. It’s in your best interest, George. You must be kidding. Not being able to watch his beloved team was a life not worth living. Bloody doctors, what do they know. He made his way into the kitchen the thought still in his head. Since his wife’s death two and a half years ago the only thing that kept him going was the beautiful game. It took his mind off things you see. Sitting by the bed with his wife in agony he would never forget. The pain she went through while he watched with utter dismay still made him sad. Too sad if the truth be told. “Please come back to me,” he would say every night before closing his eyes to sleep, knowing deep down he would never see her again. George opened the cupboard and took out the polish and a rag. Making his way into the living room he was already breathing heavily, he sat down on the chair. George hated this. He felt so useless. He then realised it was Saturday tomorrow and Norwich would be playing away. Please win. The game sadly wasn’t on the television. “Bloody Sky, nicking all the good games,” he grumbled. Within seconds he’d fallen into a deep sleep. In the dream he was having he sat with his wife while watching football. Both smiled, and for only a little while he’d forgotten all the bad things of late. ...................................................................................................................................................... Switching the radio on George listened to the commentary of the game. Next week they were playing at home, and being a season ticket holder the seat would be waiting for him, calling him over. He knew he couldn’t go until the doctor gave him the all clear. It was so unfair. There was only nine games left. The season was nearly over. He bit his nails as the other team scored a goal. “Come on, Norwich,” he said raising his voice. “If Brian was there he would have scored two by now,” thinking back to the eighties when the best player he had ever known played for the side. Seventy three minutes later the game had ended. Norwich had lost. George was heartbroken. He turned the radio off. For the next few hours he sat in his chair, the curtains drawn. “I can’t live like this,” he muttered to himself. He then came to a decision. He peered over at his wife, she seemed so happy in the picture that he broke out in a smile. “I’ll see you soon, dear,” was all he said, meaning every word. ...................................................................................................................................................... He stopped taking his tablets. A life sitting in a chair was a life he didn’t want. He remembered his dad years ago. An active man who played many sports. By 56 he was dead. At the time this broke George’s heart. The one thing more important than football was being with his wife again. In a weird sort of way he felt quite proud of the decision he had made, as most people would disagree. But being lonely and not being able to do the things which you loved in life was also something to take into consideration. By Friday he started feeling giddier than normal. He knew he was being foolish, but he had nothing to live for. And tomorrow he was going to watch Norwich for the last time. And George was ready to take the greatest step that any human has ever took. “Be brave, you old fool,” he said while peering out of the window at the street ahead. On the other side of the road a woman pushed a child along in a wheelchair. A tear ran down his cheek. Life could be so cruel at times. ...................................................................................................................................................... Walking into the stadium he could hear the noise from the crowds while they talked excitedly about the match. With him was his walking stick because he had trouble keeping his balance. Not too far to go. Looking down he saw his seat and two seats from this was the youngster who he liked very much. Carefully he made his way down not wanting to stumble. Colin glanced his way and George nodded, then he sat down with relief. “Are you okay, George?” the young man asked, worry on his face. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you with a walking stick.” “I’m fine, lad,” he answered. “Hopefully we’ll win today.” Colin moved a seat so he was inches from George. “How did it go that day when you were rushed to the hospital?” he asked. I’m sorry, boy. Everyone dies. Knowing it was going to be the last time of seeing this beautiful boy who he adored very much, and knowing this poor lad lost his dad too young in life, said, “You’re a strong person. Promise me one thing, Colin. Never give up, and if you ever meet your soul mate, look after her the best you can.” Colin blinked a couple of times. He was just about to say something when a man appeared demanding his seat. Colin moved and the man sat down muttering something under his breath. Five minutes later and the game had started. Today Norwich were playing Chelsea, so it was going to be a hard game. In the first ten minutes Chelsea scored. On the other side of the stadium a thousand or so people cheered, celebrating the goal. George tutted. Please, get one back, he thought. He peered round at Colin with not much too say, but the youngster’s face said it all. A Spanish player from the London team all of a sudden fell to the ground screaming out in agony. Colin got up from his seat and began shouting obscenities at the man. The referee ran over and showed the much loved player a yellow card for wasting time. Colin then sat down with a grin on his face. An announcement was heard as someone had parked a truck across three car park spaces causing traffic to stop from a nearby road. George laughed thinking whoever had done this was a bloody idiot. More importantly it took his mind of the troubles of late. Since sitting down he felt okay. He didn’t feel so giddy which pleased him. The slight pain in his chest had subsided. The man who had the seat next to his grumbled something under his breath before getting up. As he walked away ignoring the game the most amazing thing occurred. Norwich scored and all the supporters stood up clapping their hands. The man who was easily in his fifties looked noticing Norwich’s triumph, then muttering something under his breath vanished from sight. George was absolutely over the moon, and without giving it any thought stood up to join everyone else. Then a terrible pain across his chest made him fall to the steps. He could feel himself falling down the walkway while he clutched his heart. His left arm tingled. It was time to meet his maker. His head smacked the bottom step. His vision was blurry. Many people were standing over him while they stared at him, not knowing what to do. George tried to say something, with no luck. From the many faces one came closer. George couldn’t believe it. It was him. The best footballer to ever play for his beloved team. Raising his arm he tried to touch the man’s face. He had no strength. His whole body felt weak as the life was slowly draining out of him. A light from some distance away came closer and in it stood a woman who meant so much to him. She was so beautiful. He missed her so much. The light faded, and everything went black. ...................................................................................................................................................... George opened his eyes. He found himself laying in a bed. The first thing he noticed were the white walls. Stuck to his chest were many thin tubes that measured his heart rate and blood pressure. From outside the room many people walked passed the doorway ignoring him. Then a voice was heard. “How do you feel, George?” It was a man’s voice that he found familiar. To his left sitting by the window was the man who’d scored more goals for Norwich than anyone else. George was in utter shock, and without thinking, said, “My god, it’s you.” The man whose name was Brian moved his chair closer to the bed. “I’m happy you’re okay. For a second there I didn’t think you’d pull through.” George then remembered. “Oh that,” he replied, feeling ashamed of what he’d done. “Thank you for making the effort to visit me, but why are you here if you don’t mind me asking?” Brian shuffled uncomfortably in his chair, before answering, “Because I remember you from years ago. At every home game you would be there with a woman. And every time I saw you it inspired me to play my best. That’s one thing that makes Norwich special to any other team, and that is the fans which support us, week in, week out.” A tear welled up in his eye. “That’s so kind. Thank you. But I’m a tired old man with nothing to live for. The only things which kept me going have gone, vanished from my life through some reason or another.” He glanced at his withered hand, realising his best years were far behind him. “It doesn’t have to be like that you know,” said Brian, worry on his face. “The woman, was she your wife? The lady you used to sit with I mean.” George looked away from him. For a little while he didn’t say a thing. Then he said with sadness, “She was. I miss her with all my heart.” Brian rubbed his forehead. For a few seconds there was silence. George peered up at the person he’d admired for so long, but something didn’t seem right. “Are you okay?” From his trouser pocket Brian got a tissue out and wiped his eyes. “Not really,” was all he answered. George was concerned, and asked, “Please tell me what the problem is?” Outside the room a child laughed. “Oh my god,” was all Brian said. “Please just get better, George. I need to go. Sorry for rushing away.” George didn’t understand what was going on, then replied, “Whatever the problem is, it’s best shared with people which understand you the most. For years I’ve supported the best team in the world. If there is one man who knows you better than anyone else. I’d like to think it’s me.” He looked straight into his eyes waiting for a response. A half smile came across Brian’s face. “Two floors down is my wife. She has cancer. I’m so scared that I’m going to lose her.” George thought back to his wife. Dread was felt from deep inside. The last few moments as she screamed out in agony before dying. Her eyes lifeless. “Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that.” Suddenly Brian stood up, before saying, “Once a week I manage a local team as running a big club never interested me.” He handed George a card. “My phone numbers on here. When you get out of hospital give me a ring. Help me with the team. Think about it, George. I have to go. It was very nice to meet you.” Both shook hands. For the first time in ages George felt wanted again, like he had a purpose in life. “I’ll definitely think about it. And I hope your wife gets better quick.” With that the man walked out of the room. Then George realised he had a few decisions to make. ...................................................................................................................................................... When he’d left the hospital with strict instructions to take his tablets everyday he rang the number on the card which Brian had gave him. Two weeks from this he found himself sitting in a park just out of the great city of Norwich, and by his side was the greatest player he’d ever known, while watching a team which his hero managed. Two months later Brian’s wife had recovered, and joining them one day she glanced at George, and said, “Thank you for being there for my husband, as for a little while he’d lost all hope. Through meeting you he has become a lot more stronger. To me you are worthy of a king. King George if you don’t mind me saying.” George peered at her with a slight smile on his face, before answering, “It was your husband who came to me in my darkest hour. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t of known what to do.” She laughed, before answering, “The kids love you. The players I mean. They’ve gave you a nick name. Would you like to know what it is?” She placed a hand on his hand. “A nick name. I’m not sure if I want to know,” he said embarrassed. “So what is it?” She put a hand to her mouth and giggled, “I’ve already said it. They call you King George, because of all the great stories you tell about Norwich city through the years.” All of a sudden he felt emotional. “That’s lovely,” he replied. He peered up while the youngsters made their way onto the pitch. “Then, King George it is,” he said proudly, realising how happy he was for the first time in ages. From high above the sun shone and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Today was turning out to be a very pleasant day indeed. The End Dedicated to the many fans that support Norwich City Football team.
© 2014 steveReviews
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steveNorwichAboutHi, I hope you enjoy my short stories. I've been writing for sometime now, and thoroughly enjoy it. To be honest, I find it quite addictive. Even when I'm at work I am thinking about the next story.. more..Writing
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