The following satirical article (that means taking the piss for the less educated) first appeared in the second edition of DF this season As we sold 150 copies and most posts on here get around 1,000 views I thought it might be an idea to let the masses see it.
The English Patient
An extract from the autobiography of Ian Hearn
It’s hard sometimes in football when teams and managers make you do stuff you don’t wanna do. Take Chris Moyses for instance. He had this crazy idea that I was going to play against Grimsby for Lincoln.
Can you imagine that? It would be like making Allah sign copies of the bible. How would his followers react? At Grimsby I’ve got a reputation and as I don’t have to go out on the pitch and risk injury proving it. It’s better to be loved for something you once did than to have to do it all over again.
So anyway my good friend Paul Cox called me after his weight watchers session at five to three on a Saturday. I tore my thumb ligaments trying to swipe to answer the phone. I was pretty annoyed because I was using my left hand after rupturing my right thumb trying to tweet Grimsby fans so they remember who I am a few weeks earlier.
Paul told me he had a plan and that he’d get me out of the game. It was genius as well. He asked me if I’d like to go and stay at his for a bit so I really didn’t have to face Grimsby. I thought why not, and he asked Chris Moyses permission too so I don’t see what the fuss was.
The drive up was a nightmare. I burned my retinas looking at the sat nav and the girls voice gave me ear ache. Agony. Anyway I get up there and the sneaky sod only wanted me to play football as well! Here I was in a critical condition and he want me to play for him.
I didn’t know what to say. I was now suffering jet lag from the drive up and the last thing I wanted was to play football and get even more injured. I went to bed and plotted some more.
I was scrolling through my smart phone (using my little finger) trying to work out what I was going to do. I read that Bradley Wood was upset I’d bottled it and that hurt my feelings. I’d let Brad look at my hideously disfigured toe after I’d stubbed it on the skirting board one night. It was so bad at one point I thought about ringing the Paralympics to see if I was eligible. I would have as well if I wasn’t still suffering from my thumb injuries.
I didn’t really fancy going back to face Bradley. He once cracked a rib just by staring at me, and in training he actually tackled you rather than just letting you play. I hate that about football, I often think I should have just been a professional FIFA player. Mind you with my thumbs maybe not.
Anyway it’s pretty crappy weather In Barrow so I only had to pretend to try for a single game. Eventually Lincoln played Grimsby and the coast was clear. Paul promised to keep in touch and he asked how Rheady was. He said something about having him over to stay but he was saving up to put a bit more meat in the fridge first.
I went back to Lincoln but they kept making me play football again. One match I actually got a grass stain on my knee and a little bit of chafing from tight pants. I thought I’d never walk again to be honest, it was touch and go for a while. I had another worry too, they played Grimsby soon and I needed another plan…..
Other books coming soon include: “Benches” by Jonny Margetts, “Talking to Players” by Paul Cox, and “Talking shit” by Chris Sutton.
DISCLAIMER: Any likeness to real people, alive or dead, is completely unintentional. This is a work of fiction and definitely not a parody of any footballers injury record. Alive or dead.