#THE TROUSERS GAME IS STRONG???? These would do numbers if he was 25 and on Pinterest

[paulic]

why does he have insanely good style when he’s not wearing photoshoot clothes? Mary feeding us Paul candids for Father’s Day, everyone say thank you Mary!!

[sabine-leo]

A smile to remember

Chapter 25

Author: @sabine-leo

Chapter: 25 /?  

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Romance, Insecurity

Special Guests: Benedict Cumberbatch, Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth

Note: I could use a fun night out with these lot! Thought you might appreciate it too ! 

 Sophie and Elsa shared the stories of their first outings with you and said that you should avoid the internet or newspapers in the next weeks if possible. Tom had said something similar. You knew that there would be people outside that would not approve or be happy and they might say some disturbing things, but Tom also mentioned that he had some really great fans that would be happy for him and tell the nasty folks to shut it.  

 “Just try to act as normal as possible…” Sophie said. “I know this will be challenging in the first weeks but when you seclude, it will only get worse. And don´t be afraid to make mistakes…we all made them.” Evans grinned. “Hell, I still think I just fall over when walking the red carpet. Or when I leave the house to get the newspaper and hunker down that my trousers will burst or something.” That made you laugh out loud. Tom who was standing at the pool table with Ben glanced over and smiled at you. Chris leaned in a little and said quieter then usual. “He adores you, you know. Please try to cope with it. I haven´t seen him smile that much or talk so much about anybody in the last years. He is my brother, not only on screen.” He grinned and kissed his wife. “I know we can be a hand full sometimes, but we are worth it!” Elsa rolled her eyes but nodded to you.

 Everybody in this group somewhen along the night got hold of your phone and put in their numbers. There was a wall of friendship coming your way and you loved them all so much for it.

Watching Tom play pool was a bit distracting. Him leaning over the table and showing of his behind made you grin several times, and blush when Evans good naturedly teased you about it.

“Come on, let´s challenge them to a double…” Evans said and tucked you up.

“Hiddleston, You and Ben against me and your lady, the winner gets to hold her hand walking outside!” Tom arched an eyebrow but Ben grinned “I´ll double that. If Tom and I lose Chris and I will hold the hands of each other´s wife’s and give the press something more to talk about!”  

 Chris laughed and Sophie and Elsa rolled their eyes but grinned. “If you lose Ben, I´ll walk out with Elsa and you have to walk out with Chris!” Sophie teased laughing!

“Oh, Mrs Cumberbatch you are ON!” Ben said and began to arrange the table.

You took a cue and smiled at Tom.

“Show me what you got Hiddleston!” You goaded. Tom came over to give you a hard kiss.

“You know this means war, right?!”  Nodding you patted his butt to the hoots of Evans and Chris.

“I know Thomas, I know…” You leaned closer and whispered in his ear.

“Let´s up the challenge…Winner gets a naked massage later!”

 Tom grinned and his eyes lit up as he whispered back.

“You better have oil at your home, because you will massage me from head to toe darling!”

“Stop the flirting you two! Let´s play! You are in my team now (Y/N) don´t side with the enemy, distract him!!” Evans shouted out and gave the first hit.

 This was fun, Evans and you had the half balls and Tom and Ben the full ones. It was a pretty eye to eye game, until Tom dropped the chalk and bend down as it was your turn. You missed the ball…

“Oh my, I am so sorry love…did I distract you?” Tom chirped but grinned mischievous.

Chris laughed and snapped a picture as Tom grinned very handsomely but very Loki-like at you. He put it on his Instagram with the caption.

 Loki is out to play... He and Strange teamed up against Cap and a Midgardian beauty. AND Loki is cheating!!!

 Now it was Toms turn and you were not having any of his teasing without retaliation. You saw which of the 2 balls left he wanted to play and bend down to lean on your elbows on the opposite side of the table. Tom would have a pretty good view of your cleavage now.

“Not working darling!” He hissed out and took a deep breath…looked at you, the ball…you again...

“Don´t say that when your pants are getting to tight mate!” Ben grinned and Tom missed the ball.

 Evans high fived you and Tom looked exasperated at his team mate.

“Ben?! Seriously?!”

Ben just pointed at Toms pants and grinned. “Seriously…!”

Evans made quick work of the 3 left balls of yours, but missed the black one.

Ben measured up and had a pretty good, easy shot left to win the game. He looked at you and then at Tom and grinned. “It seems I do hold the future in my hands now. How very appropriate for Strange!” Everybody laughed and Ben plunged the 8 in…

 The grin on Toms face was the funniest sight. He seemed to have won the lottery. Losing his cue and walking over he tucked you against him and kissed the heck out of you.

“I won, I can´t wait! Let’s go home!” You laughed as he leaned his forehead against yours.

 Evans, Chris and Ben snapped a picture. Uploading it to social media. All with the same caption.

And another picture of them together giving a thumbs up.

 Loki finally won! #HappyLoki #HappyTom #AvengersApproved #AvengersProtected

 They all wanted to make sure that you and Tom got off to a good start and had the support from their fans as well. Tom had only asked Ben and Evans to be here tonight, but Chris being there to support him too meant the world to him. He loved all 3 men and treated them as brothers.

 Despite Tom wanting to leave all of you had a bit more fun before Chris called the driver to wait outside. Getting ready Tom looked down from the first-story window and made a face.

“Oh boy…” Ben looked outside too and made an equal distraught face.

Closing your eyes for a moment you breathed deep.

“Doesn´t matter if its 5 or 25 I had the best night with all of you and I won´t let them change that!”

“Double that love, but I am very proud how you keep up. The next weeks might get a little crazy, but I hope it will dial down when we just keep getting seen together. Can you manage that?!”

 This time you engulfed Tom in your arms and nodded. “For you….yes!”

The smile he gave you was precious and loving. “Then….let´s go!”

At the entrance Ben and Sophie went first, Chris and Elsa followed and then Tom, You and Evans.

Tom held your hand and waiting in front of the car for ben to climb in he smiled at you and kissed your hand. Flashes going of constantly and questions shouted at him. Tom ignored them and helped you in before he followed, Evans closing the door behind him.

 The next morning you woke up to find Tom already awake and watching you. It had been a pain in the ass to get home with all the tails following the limo. You had decided to get dropped of at Toms place to keep your home private a bit longer. As the door had closed behind you Tom hat crushed you against him. His heart beating a frantic rhythm. “Are you really alright?!” His voice a bit hoarse and his eyes searching yours. You gulped but nodded. The way home had been a whole different level but Tom had kept you save as he had promised. Following that experience the both of you had talked and cuddled a lot to reassure each other that you would manage that situation together.

 Now Tom smiled and kissed you softly. “Good morning love!” he murmured. You smiled sleepily and cuddled up against him. A soft laugh escaping him. “I´m glad you still want to cuddle this morning after the frenzy of getting home yesterday.” Huffing you stroked his chest. “I never DON`T want to cuddle. Please get that in this handsome head of yours!” Tom laughed slowly and kissed your hair.

“I have to show you something…” he fished for his phone.

 “Did you know they snapped pictures of us yesterday!?” He showed you the pictures and you laughed out loud at the words and the captions bellow them. “No, I never noticed!” You said and smiled at Tom. “We do look rather happy!” You said and Tom nodded. “Yes, very much so…and that is what the fans saw as well…” he showed you some comments that were heartfelt genuine and sweet. “I think they caused the frenzy of reporters, but did a good job getting the fans on board.”

There were also questions like “Why her?” but you tried your best to ignore that.

 Tom put his phone down and turned sideways so that you were facing each other.

“You are really something else…and…” he waved his hand through your hair. “… wanted to say it yesterday, but it didn´t seem right with all the people around…” Tom smiled and kissed your nose.

“I haven´t just fallen for you (Y/N)…and I am not having a slight crush either…” Your eyes focused on his and your heart stumbled a bit. Your whole body started to tingle as he gave you another sweet kiss. “…I am in love with you…I love you!” he finished quietly but strong voiced.

 There you were, laying in his bed, in his home, in his arms and he just said he loved you..in the quiet of his bedroom for just the two of you. He couldn´t have gotten it righter than this. A smile broke out of you and your eyes got very emotional. “Tom…” Your voice wasn´t that strong because all the feelings tried to get out with your next words. “…I love you too! For a while now…I can´t think of a better place to be then at your side!” Tom let out a breath he didn´t knew he was holding and smiled so bright that you both started to giggle a little before he crushed his lips on yours!

  “But don´t think I forgot about the price I won!” He teased into the kiss…

Tags for: @theoneanna @shegatsby @wabisabigrl @everything-is-awesomesauce @drakesfiance @spoopyfoxxtropical @yokaimoon @kjjazzy23 @confessionsofastrugglingteen  @shinebrightlikeafanbase @snarkalumpf @coniumalces @lisastandford95 @imjustlonelyanddepressed @inlovewithfreyamikaelson @heart-shaped-hell @marikochi @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx

[unrequitedtrash]

For TC asks, what if I asked you to do ... All of them 😜

I would thank you profusely and apologise for such a late response!long post, but worth the read :p

1. do you know of any previous jobs they had?

I have no idea whatsoever

2. are they right-handed or left-handed?

Right-handed and has one of the worst cutest handwriting ever, so many people are unable to read it - I am able to decipher his handwriting aha

3. describe their voice.

deep, I guess. gosh I am awful at describing anyone’s voice. personally, I think his voice has a soothing tone to it, or it can be quite harsh and sharp

4. if you could give them anything in the world, what would you get them?

happiness in all forms - I just really want him to be happy

5. if they were a drink, what would they be?

a bittersweet alcohol drink? something like Cinquecento - represents how he seems frigid on the outside, but is actually really kind

6. what is something you regret doing around them?

oh wow, so much… I think the ‘milk bottle’ incident will be no. 1 - I still cringe about it to this day

7. are they optimistic or pessimistic?

pessimistic bastard, he is

8. in general, how do they treat others?

depends on who they are, he can be reserved and strict when dealing with students, but with students he is more familiar with and teachers he is friends with, he is a lot more relaxed and open

9. what made you fall for them?

his intelligence, humour, wit, sarcasm, sardonic personality and how awkward he is

10. what do they do in their free time?

he reads, watches television, keeps up with politics and I heard that he owns a Steam account so I do wonder what kind of video games he is playing…

11. if they were a candy, what would they be?

strawberry delight from quality street, only because when I offered some to him, he asked for strawberry delights 

12. describe the way they walk / their movements.

he has an ever so slightly hunched back, and is extremely tall - he walks with confidence, I think

13. is there anything you didn’t like about them at first that you love about them now?

I don’t think so… things about him that irked me still do

14. describe what you imagine they do as soon as they get home.

that’s a difficult question, since I am really unsure if he single or not (I think hope he is). I imagine he would take his blazer and tie off, unbutton his shirt a bit, make himself a drink (either making himself a cup of tea/coffee, or cracking open some alcohol), and either watch some television or do some work. I really have no idea

15. if they were furniture, what type of furniture would they be?

a chest - does not look like much on the outside, but on the inside, it is where all the special and unique things are

16. what’s their go-to hairstyle?

poor man, he is mocked amongst my friends for his receding hairline. but he, I think, uses hair gel to spike up his hair into a triangular shape

17. if they were a clothing item, what would they be?

any part of a formal suit - either a blazer or tie

18. top three favorite moments with them?

(not in any order) 1. taking selfies with him 2. every time he starts a conversation with me 3. calling him ‘amazingly beautiful’

19. top three worst moments?

(again, not in any order) 1. the ‘milk bottle’ incident and that is all I can think of

20. what do you admire most about them?

how insanely intelligent he is

21. what three words best describe their personality?

sardonic, intellectual, humorous, caring (I know there is four, but I could list more and three is so small) 

22. do they have an accent?

yea, the typical regional accent I think everyone at my school has - though, I don’t think it is very strong

23. what’s their ethnicity?

probably just British

24. are they religious?

nope, I remember him saying he read a book that completely changed his opinion on religion, I believe

25. how’s their posture?

he has a bit of a hunched back

26. what’s their hair color?

dark blonde…?

27. eye color?

the prettiest pair of blue eyes I have ever seen

28. skin tone?

pale…?

29. do they have any tattoos? if they don’t, what do you think they would have for a tattoo if they got one?

he does not have any, to my knowledge. I don’t think he is the kind of person to have a tattoo, to be honest

30. are they older or younger than your parents?

younger

31. if they were a holiday, which one would they be?

autumn

32. do you know their middle name?

I do indeed, though I will not say for obvious reasons.

33. what did you first notice about them?

he really suits suits, like damn 

34. what’s their relationship status?

I, and many others, believe he is single 

35. do they have glasses?

he does, but long-distance ones so he wears them when driving

36. do they have any moles or noticeable birthmarks?

not any that I can see

37. any distinguishing facial features?

nope, just cute

38. what kind of clothes do they wear?

s u i t s

39. what colors so they wear most often?

well, his suits are almost always a black blazer, black trousers and different coloured shirt - salmon pink, blue, white

40. what year were they born?

I have no absolutely no idea

41. what superpower would they have?

other than his intelligence, I feel like he would suit having a mind reading superpower

42. what’s one fact about them that makes you smile every time you remember it?

not really a fact about him, but anytime I think of him, I just smile - whether it be a happy or sad smile, I just do

43. have they ever given you a gift?

nope

44. have they ever hugged you?

I wish!

45. what year will you graduate and are you prepared to say “goodbye”- or at least, “see you later”?

I have graduated already, and I think the Sixth Form Prom was the last time I would see him - I don’t want to believe it because I have liked him for so long. I did shout and wave ‘bye’ to him at Prom, but I want to see him again, just one last time

46. do you have any pictures of you with them? if so, how many?

I do indeed, I’m not sure of the number but at least five of them are selfies

47. do you know what college/university they went to?

not entirely sure, but a friend of mine thinks she knows where he went as he may have went to the same university as my friend’s aunt

48. are you ashamed or embarrassed that you have a tc?

sometimes I am, and sometimes I am not - I think my friends are more ashamed and embarrassed of and by me having a TC, to be honest

49. what’s one of their favorite book series?

he liked the Jeeves Series by P.G. Wodehouse, I believe - not sure if it is his favourite 

50. what’s one of their favorite tv shoes?

no idea, I know what he watches/has watched

51. what do you think they were like when they were your age?

quiet, shy and awkward - possibly the ‘edgy kid’ lmao

52. would you have been friends with them in high school?

I can certainly see him as part of my friendship group in school - we are all just as awkward as each other

53. do they have dimples? 

he doesn’t seem to have any from what I can see from the pictures I have with him

54. do you ever draw pictures of your tc?

nope aha

55. what goes through your mind when you see them unexpectedly?

‘oh my gosh, do I look okay? why he is looking hella fine like always? quick, think of something to say. damn, he just nodded at me. quick nod and smile back…’ and other things 

56. if they were a fruit, what fruit would they be?

a dragonfruit!

57. what’s their handwriting like?

just about readable :p

58. what age did you think they were when you first met? what age are they really?

I am awful with guessing people’s ages, I thought he was 34 when we first met, apparently he is 34?! no idea how old he is 

59. are they introverted or extroverted?

bit of a mixture of both? more introverted, though 

60. when you graduate, do you plan on visiting them?

I am hoping I have moved on from him after I have graduated; but, if I am in the area, may go and say a quick hello to him

61. if you already graduated, have you seen them since?

I have graduated, and saw him at prom - best night ever.

62. do they live anywhere remotely near you?

he lives around 30 minutes away, by car

63. what three colors always remind you of them?

black, salmon pink and white

64. have you ever gotten them a birthday gift?

no, I have no idea when his birthday is

65. describe their laugh.

very deep, hearty laugh - you know when he finds something truly funny by just his laugh

66. what do you do when you’re on vacation and can’t see them?

I like to think my TC is not always on my mind - though, every now and then, there will be something that I see that reminds me of him and I just smile sadly to myself and carry on with my holiday

67. do you think they know you like them?

I would not be surprised if he knew - he already recognises that I ‘act weird around him’

68. are you good at the subject they teach?

yes, very much so

69. describe them as a person.

I feel like I have answered this so many times… he is insanely smart and intelligent, funny, witty, sarcastic, sardonic, awkward and adorable

70. what do you think they do in the summer?

meet up with friends and relatives, read a few books - who knows? aha

71. what always reminds you of them?

any time anyone says ‘bastard’, seeing suits in clothing stores

72. what would you love to see them wear?

honestly I love a man in a suit, and he has always wears a suits. I have seen him in casual clothing as well

73. if they were a musical instrument, what instrument would they be?

I automatically think of a guitar when I think of musical instruments and him - no idea why though

74. what day of the week would they be?

Sunday - it is a good day because it is a rest day, but Monday is the next day and you don’t want Sunday to end

75. what do other students think about your tc?

some think he is creepy, some think he is weird, some think he is strict, and others think he is awkward but all think he is smart and a good teacher overall

76. when’s the last time you saw them?

at my sixth form prom~

77. when will you see them again?

hopefully soon lmao…

78. what’s something they said to you that you’ll never forget?

honestly I remember everything he has said to me

79. what are they like when they’re angry?

he is quiet and does not say much, you can tell from his monotonous voice that he is angry

80. have you ever drawn a picture of them and gave it to them?

gosh, no

81. what’s your age gap and how does it make you feel?

possibly 16 years? I have no issue with it, or think it weird - I think my crush on my TC has made me see age gap relationships in a completely different light

82. generally, what mood are they in?

neutral…?

83. would you say you two are similar in many ways or drastically different?

both awkward - he is smart, I am not

84. how long did it take you to realize your feelings?

maybe a few months, really wanted to deny having a TC but hey, I am a strange person

85. have you written any poems about them? would you ever show them any?

my whole blog consists of poems (some by me) about him

86. are you talkative around them?

heck no

87. are they talkative around you?

not really, but when he is, it does surprise me

88. what’s one thing you wish was different about them?

I was thinking about him not being a teacher, but then, how would I meet him if he was not my teacher. but then again, it would be more socially acceptable if I did try to truly pursue him

89. what’s your favorite thing about them personality wise?

answered

90. what’s your favorite physical thing about them?

his height and smirk 

91. do they have any talents?

I am not aware of any…

92. do they have any siblings?

I believe he does, not sure if they are older, or younger or a brother or sister

93. any pets?

older students said he had a dog, not sure if he still does…

94. any children?

really doubt it

95. if they weren’t a teacher, what could you see them as?

I was going to say a professor, but that is the same thing. he really suits being a teacher. but I could totally see him within the legal circle…

96. what do you think their favorite holiday might be?

I would say reading, but other than that, knowing he has a Steam account, possibly playing video games aha

97. do you know anything about their childhood?

I remember a few things he told our class about his childhood

98. do they have any nicknames for you?

absolutely not - he is aware of my nickname, but does not call me with that nickname (thank goodness)

99. do you have any nicknames for them?

lanky bastard, but I don’t say it to his face, of course. 

100. do you think you’re in love with them?

I know that I am not in love with my TC, I think I just really really like him. this is the first time I have ever felt such intense and strong romantic feelings for someone, I could regard him as my ‘first love’, but who knows what the future holds.

wow, after answering all of these, I can conclude I do not know a lot about my TC, yet I have liked him for the longest time - how strange and stupid I am.thank you again anon for letting me answer all these questions about lanky bastard, it is very much appreciated - had a lot of fun with it.thank you to those who have read all the way through it and have reached here!

[allofbeercom]

From Manchester City to Oklahoma: how a rejected footballer kept the dream alive

Laurie Bell became one of the most expensive 12-year-olds in British football history when Manchester City signed him from Stockport County, but he had to wait a decade and move 4,000 miles away to make his professional debut

In the dressing room of a baseball stadium in the American South, I fiddled with orange shinpad tape, yanked my heels to my buttocks to stretch already-limber quadricep muscles, and tap-danced impatiently on plastic studded football boots. Ten more debutants in creaseless kits waited in line. A dipping Oklahoma sun peeked inside the tunnel, beckoning. When the referees eventually signalled that it was time, we marched out. First on red clay, then green grass, then across the straight white lines of a freshly painted football pitch. In the stands, 8,000 soccer rookies rose to their feet, waved homemade flags, and glugged half-price cans of Modelo beer. Up in the posh seats, the clubs hierarchy were given a first tangible taste of a team that had been two years in the making.

It was a momentous walk for all of us: the first action on the first night in Tulsa Roughnecks history. For me, it proved the last, improbable leg of a 14-year journey that had transported me 4,000 miles from my English home. At 22 years old, after a sequence of rejection and lateral footballing progress, my professional debut had finally arrived.

Men in military uniforms trumpeted out a national anthem. For a moment, a reverential hush cloaked the excitement for soccer pulsing through this old oil city. Stood by the halfway line where short stops might field on baseball-playing days I considered how we all arrived here. How had this brand new team leapt into existence? What did this crowd expect? Was our flung-together squad any good? Whats that centre-backs name again? And, of all the football clubs in all the world, how the hell had I ended up in Tulsa, Oklahoma?

This wasnt English football. This hadnt been the plan.

Tulsa Roughnecks players sign autographs for their fans. Photograph: Lori Scholl

Statistically speaking, the first match in the Roughnecks record books ended in a 1-1 draw. But as sunburned schoolteachers and hoarse local lawyers joined kids clamouring for autographs at the perimeter of the field, that balmy night in March 2015 felt decidedly like a victory. Shirts sold, fireworks crackled and fans fell in love. Giddily unpracticed, I signed programs, iPhone cases and exposed forearms. Opening night was a win for the Roughnecks and for football in the city.

There was immediate evidence of both a passion and market for soccer in Tulsa, like there is in increasing numbers of cities across North America. In the past two seasons across the top three leagues covering the US and Canada the MLS, NASL and USL 24 new professional soccer clubs have founded. Tulsa Roughnecks is one part of professional soccers recent proliferation in the US. This is one players insight into life at a brand new club.

Describing Tulsa Roughnecks FC as brand new is only partly true. In 1983 a professional outdoor team from Tulsa named the Roughnecks was crowned king of the North American Soccer League. They beat the Toronto Blizzard in Soccer Bowl 83 in front of 53,000 fans.

The glitzy NASL attracted footballing greats such as Johan Cruyff, George Best, Pel and Franz Beckenbaur. Their presence helped draw impressive attendances at stadiums nationwide, with thousands more fans tuning in on TV. Even without a bona fide superstar, the Roughnecks enjoyed a strong local following and considerable onfield success. But when the league folded and soccers grip on the imaginations of the American people loosened, the team followed suit.

Having been founded in 1978, the Roughnecks disbanded six years later, the season after they won the championship. A few upstarts tried to bring the sport back to the city but they were unsuccessful and Tulsa was largely soccer-less for the next three decades until 2013, when Mike Melega, General Manager of the Tulsa Drillers baseball franchise, picked up his newspaper.

I saw in the paper one day that Oklahoma City was getting professional soccer, said Melega, the picture of an American sports executive: khaki trousers below a club-crested polo shirt and dark brown hair cropped neatly around the back and sides. At the time time, Melegas only title was GM of the Drillers, a feeder club affiliated with a Major League Baseball team, but his staff was also tasked with managing the Drillers under-utilised ONEOK Field, a three-year-old, $40m stadium in the heart of downtown Tulsa.

Youre always keeping your eyes open for trends and opportunities, continued Melega. Professional soccer in America is growing and I thought our city needs to be at the forefront of that.

Tulsa and the state capital, Oklahoma City, are 100 miles apart: neighbours by American standards. Melega discovered that the same ownership group had already purchased expansion rights for soccer teams in both cities. An attractive new sports franchise and a lonely stadium: the GM foresaw a marriage. Melega, along with Brian Carroll, vice president of media and PR, convinced the Drillers owners brothers Jeff and Dale Hubbard to fund a wedding.

Dale Hubbard is a former professional baseball player who had never watched a game of soccer. But Melega is persuasive and, trusting his judgment, the Hubbards purchased a majority share in their citys expansion rights. A crazy, crazy year and a half of preparations followed. But on 18 December 2013, addressing a room of reporters and early self-declared supporters, Melega held a scarf above his head and announced that soccer was returning to Tulsa. In 2015, the team would compete in the United Soccer League, the third tier of US soccer.

Laurie Bell playing for Tulsa Roughnecks. Photograph: Lori Scholl

That same afternoon in Milwaukee, Wisconsin I completed a Media Law exam. I was 21 and two-and-a-half years into a university soccer scholarship. Five days earlier I had been named in college soccers team of the year (making this Mancunian an All-American), having enjoyed my finest season as a footballer. From central midfield I scored 13 goals, captaining my Division One team to league success, record home crowds and a coveted spot in the NCAA national tournament.

I finished the exam then packed a suitcase to return to my parents home in England for Christmas. On the flight, early visions of playing professionally in the US pushed law out of my mind. At the time, I couldnt point to Oklahoma on a map.

Every time I touch down at Manchester Airport, Im struck by the abundance of white rectangles painted on to patchwork grass fields below. There are football pitches everywhere. While the game gains popularity in the soccer-hungry landscape of 2016 America, there remains just one other professional team within 250 miles of Tulsa. By contrast, within 25 miles of the Manchester runway sit nine professional clubs, with almost double that number at semi-pro level. Before my 18th birthday, I had represented three of them.

I was scouted by Stockport Countys School of Excellence as an eight-year-old and excelled in their navy colours for the next four seasons, building up a reputation in the region. So when Manchester City offered me a spot in their world-renowned academy, a tribunal ruled that hefty compensation was to be paid to County, making me one of the most expensive 12-year-olds in British football history.

A lifelong City fan, I gladly committed my teenage years to the academys Platt Lane training complex, where prodigies progress and dreams come true. Every Tuesday and Wednesday I was excused from school and reported to the same fields and the same coaches that reared my City heroes: Shaun Wright-Phillips, Stephen Ireland, Micah Richards and Joey Barton. On Saturdays after my own matches I ball-boyed at the stadium. From pitch level, I watched Daniel Sturridge and Michael Johnson make Premier League debuts, convinced that one day Id be out there too.

But the fantasy of playing professionally for my boyhood club ended when I was 16, graduated from high school and deemed not fast enough to mix it with the latest crop of demi-stars scouted from across the globe.

Two years later, a second door to dreamland shut firmly in my face. I had completed a two-season youth team apprenticeship at Rochdale AFC, a club 108 years older than the current Roughnecks. Desperate to land contracts, my team-mates and I fought to impress The Gaffer by whatever means necessary. On the pitch, we scrapped to a Youth Alliance league title. Off it, we completed chores: filling wheelie-bin ice baths with freezing water, packing training equipment into The Gaffers Nissan Navara and obediently scrubbing the first teamers boots we wished to fill.

I regularly trained with the professionals, played alongside them in the reserves, and appeared in a first-team pre-season match. When I was named the clubs Youth Player of the Year in 2011, I became quietly confident about my chances. But money wasnt flowing through the grey, north Manchester town. And the first-team was stacked with experienced central midfielders. I just dont see you replacing them next season, rang The Gaffers crushing message in May 2011.

On the drive home I pulled into a Chadderton layby to call Dad. As the call connected, I turned off the wipers and watched raindrops slide slowly down the windscreen. How much of my cracking voice he made out Im not sure. But he got the message.

We knew this was a possibility, so just keep your head up, mate, he reassured me. Were going to find you a club. This is not the end. Another, maybe even a better, opportunity is going to come along for you.

It would do, not that I could see it then. I was 18 and after a decade on the English academy track thought I was finally nearing destination professional football. As it turned out, I was just setting sail on the scenic way around.

Team-mates found non-league teams and workaday employment. School friends packed for universities. My academics, which I had managed to successfully attain alongside football, earned offers from a number of prestigious British schools. But none interested me. I needed football. If not, adventure.

When the tears dried, I impressed at a showcase match in front of scouts from across the globe and was presented with an opportunity that ticked both boxes: Soccer! In America!

I agreed to play on a four-year football scholarship at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee that would cover tuition fees and provide help towards rent and textbooks.

My flight to Americas Midwest region connected at JFK. On approach to landing I looked down: baseball fields everywhere. I sneered, silently judging a sport I didnt understand, never imagining a few years later I would be playing on top of a matching red clay diamond.

By late 2014, Tulsas new club had fans, a crest and a name. A competition carried in Tulsa World, the local newspaper, allowed readers to decide what the franchise would be called. Future fans voted for a Roughnecks resurrection. The club assembled a supporters group The Roustabouts from the most enthusiastic responders to the newspaper poll and drew up diagrams of how to squeeze a football pitch on to a baseball field.

Mike Melegas vision was taking shape. The Drillers had erected a soccer club from nothing. All that remained missing was an entire squad of players and a head coach to scout then train them. But as the baseball staff believed: if you build it, they will come.

The Roustabouts show their support. Photograph: Lori Scholl

David Irving already knew Tulsa well when Melega first made contact. The 63-year-old Englishman had played for the NASL incarnation of the Roughnecks for a season in 1980, following a career scoring goals in the UK for Workington, Oldham Athletic and Everton. He also knew the USL, having coached in the league for 16 years. He led Wilmington Hammerheads to a title in 2003 and set Glenn Murray on a course to the Premier League in the process.

Irving was appointed in November 2014 and handed keys to a renovated locker room full of empty seats. The search for a squad took him and Tom Taylor, his assistant coach, across half the northern hemisphere.

For the first two months I was just travelling, trying to recruit players and set up combines and look for players, said Irving, Cumbrian tones still heavy despite a quarter-century living in America. That was my priority and everything else would just kind of fall into place. I started during Thanksgiving. I went to combines in Chicago, to Fort Lauderdale, San Diego, LA, Vegas, Orlando, all over. Tom was in Ireland, I couldnt make that one. So we went all over. Its a process, and it was challenging putting a team together for February of 2015 when we started pre-season.

On their travels, the pair realised they were recruiting for a much different USL than the league they had worked in before.

In 2015, 13 newly founded expansion teams competed in the USL. The inflated league rebranded and restructured into two conferences an east and a west instead of one. Another five clubs began USL play in 2016, making the new-look league 29 teams strong, with yet more committed to join in 2017.

The influx is a product of two factors: the demand for professional soccer in more cities across America and the leagues alliance with Major League Soccer in 2014. Twenty-one of the current 29 USL teams have MLS affiliations. The relationship allows players to be loaned between teams, imitating the Spanish model, in which La Liga clubs field second rosters in divisions below.

At its core then, this evolving league is a developmental one. Evidence is in the young squads the average age of the Roughnecks 2015 team was 23 and the five substitutes a coach can field per match. Players generally sign modest contracts (with housing usually included) lasting the duration of the seven-month season, after which theyre on their own financially. According to Irving, change is good for US soccer.

Obviously its great to have the MLS teams entering the league, he said. It brings the whole thing up to a new level. I think every team has a different philosophy, whether theyre going to use the USL for development or for senior players to get time, or a combination of both or for academy players. Whichever, the league is getting better.

Laurie Bell playing for the Tulsa Roughnecks. Photograph: Lori Scholl

Bigger and better: the USL is growing in a very American way. And with professional soccer proliferating across the nation, more opportunities are opening up for players. However, spots for non-US citizens remain limited to seven per team, driving competition high between foreigners chasing their American dreams. Last year, I realised mine in Oklahoma.

The week before Irvings official appointment, my college soccer career ended in a 1-0 loss on a bitter winter night at Cleveland State University. Rooted inside the frosty centre-circle, I looked out into the Ohio abyss and wondered where football might take me next.

My sights were set on Major League Soccer and weeks later I was invited to the MLS combine, an annual three-day showcase attended by head coaches from each team in the top US league. I spent the winter preparing: first, alone on frozen Wisconsin astroturf pitches as I finished my university semester, then in England with Blackburn Rovers first team. But while with Blackburn, I suffered a cruel recurrence of the patella tendonitis that had haunted me as a teenager. In January 2015, I arrived in Fort Lauderdale, Florida with a suitcase full of painkillers and doomed hopes for a miraculous recovery.

As a foreigner, I was already vying for one of a limited number of international MLS spots. That season, Frank Lampard, Steven Gerrard, David Villa and Andrea Pirlo would claim four of them. To land a contract, I needed to at least outshine my college-age competition. Instead, in front of American soccer royalty, I winced through three forgettable 45-minute appearances. On draft day, the MLS commissioner called 84 names. Laurie Bell wasnt one of them. Rejection stung afresh.

I returned to Milwaukee questioning. Why had no club ever taken a chance on me? Was something fundamental holding me back? How long could I continue failing at chasing a dream? And was there anywhere left to try?

Some of these USL expansion teams still need players for this season, offered my college coach Kris Kelderman. Theyre putting together whole rosters from nothing. What do you think?

Not knowing what to think, I landed in Tulsa in late February and reported for a pre-season trial. A pair of tornadoes during the week did little to reassure me I was in the right place.

If I had hesitations about the wilderness of this new USL, they evaporated upon walking into the Roughnecks upmarket ONEOK Field home. I found my name fixed to a locker in Premier League-class changing rooms, a kit printed with my chosen No4, and was given a comfortable flat to sleep in. I met a young group of players who were impatient to prove themselves and a staff that was building from the ground up. Immediately, I wanted in.

Irving was familiar with me through a recommendation from another English coach I had played under the previous summer. As long as you dont want too much fucking money, he said, half-smirking, fully serious, as I sat trembling in his underground office at the end of my trial, wed like you to join us here this season.

I squirted a response, agreeing to become the 11th signing in Tulsa Roughnecks history then floated back to my new apartment. With no Wi-Fi installed yet, I hurried a mile to the nearest Starbucks to Skype my parents. As the call boop-boop-booped into life, the clouds broke and an orange sun bounced through the windows. Two expectant faces 4,000 miles away squeezed together inside my phone screen.

They want me, I announced, as relief as much as joy plastered all our faces. Im going to be a Roughneck. In the most improbable location a baseball arena in tornado alley, USA I had finally found my first professional football home.

Upon signing for enough money to contentedly live on, but not too fucking much I became part of a unique squad. Given the clubs new status, no players had past experience in Tulsa, resulting in an utterly egalitarian dressing room. No captains, no cliques, no hierarchy. And initially, not much leadership, conversation or banter either. Far from the abusive pre-season initiation stories Id heard from English first year pros, I took a seat at my locker, one of 21 equal parts. In Tulsa, rookies might have pumped up the balls, but our own were left unharmed.

The Roustabouts. Photograph: Lori Scholl

Almost inevitably, this unfamiliarity resulted in a slow start to our season. But form steadily improved and, ultimately, playing for a brand new club proved much like playing for any other. We won as many games as we lost, the squad united through plane rides, card games and nights out on away trips to Arizona, Washington and California, and we put ourselves in contention for post-season playoff qualification. After winning our final fixture 2-0, the fate of our season hinged on Austin Aztex beating Seattle Sounders 2 our rivals for a playoff berth one week later.

When the game arrived, Melega, Irving and the rest of the organisations staff suggested we watch together. Over the course of the year, players had grown close to the creators of a club at which most of our contracts were close to complete. So, on a hot September night we gathered inside Empire Bar, where orange Roughnecks scarves entwined with more faded football memorabilia on the walls. We knew our chances of progress were slim and the whole night shimmered in end-of-term affection. One midfielder had landed after-season work at the pub and nipped behind the bar to pull me a pint. By kick-off time, a Twitter invitation lured hundreds of Roustabouts cramming through the doors.

So we watched together. The staff, who had turned a fanciful idea to fill a stadium into a real life football club. The fans: regular Tulsa townsfolk wholeheartedly embracing their new hobby. And the cluster of coaches and players parachuted into this baseball playing southern US city from all corners of the globe and tasked to get the football rolling.

We did, but there would be no fairytale finish to Tulsas first season in the USL. Seattle won 3-2 and the settled table ranked us seventh best in the Western conference. On paper then, several of the 24 North American expansion clubs were more successful than Tulsa in 2015.

But as nail-biting TV-watching evolved into a lively end of season party, there felt like plenty to celebrate for all involved in the Roughnecks organisation. League positions and trophies are important goals for a football club. But truer measures of success for a start-up sports team are surely its reception by a city and integration into local culture.

To my mind, that has been the Roughnecks chief success, one that makes the club a model for future expansion teams. Irving placed as much importance on us bonding with fans signing every autograph and sharing post-match drinks in local bars as any onfield tactics. Melegas staff appointed The Roustabouts de facto club ambassadors and organised the squads appearance at several community events.

The result was that a diverse ONEOK Field crowd produced the fifth highest average attendances in the league nationwide, a remarkable feat in the clubs first season. When jogging through downtown on cool down days, workers banged on office windows, kids hi-fived us, and pick-up truck drivers affectionately tooted horns. And one year on, now plying my trade in Sweden, I still receive regular well wishes from Tulsans via Twitter.

As the afterparty staggered to Legends the citys resiliently popular country dancing hall and players, coaches, club staff and supporters joined cowboy-booted locals on the dance floor, the assimilation felt complete. To sustain this professional soccer proliferation, each new North American club must dance to its own beat. And thats how I learned to Tulsa two-step.

This article appeared first on In Bed With Maradona Follow Laurie Bell and In Bed With Maradona on Twitter

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/from-manchester-city-to-oklahoma-how-a-rejected-footballer-kept-the-dream-alive/

[erraticwriterscanvas-blog]

The Girl on the train - Part 1

Chennai Central Railway station, the biggest of its kind that I had ever seen, welcomed me once again. Honestly it was a warm welcome because the station inside was way too hotter than the streets outside. The bustling crowd that spread over the long trench over a mile was no surprise.

Five days ago, when I began my journey to Chennai, I was really excited about travelling all alone. It was my first experience of travelling alone to a city far from mine, and I was thrilled about the feeling of responsibility I would have towards myself and my luggage, the personal space I would get for myself among the thousands of unknowns on the train, the decision making situations where I don’t have to listen to someone else’s commands to choose what I want. Travelling seemed like fun, but it eventually turned boring. I should have carried few novels to read. And what added to the disappointment of excitement turned to boredom was that there was no sign of a girl in my whole compartment. How could there be no Meenamma on ‘The Chennai Express’ ( Meenamma is the female lead character in the movie ‘Chennai Express’ in which hero meets her heroine first on train). A bunch of Tamilians were my travel companions and I had no clue what they spoke about throughout the journey. A good aged Tamilian uncle cleared my confusion about how to reach my destination in Chennai (The only reason why I felt he was good coz he understood fair bit of Hindi, and it wasn’t hard to communicate).

My purpose of visit to Chennai was something I was really proud of; so proud that I told all my friends about it. I was one among the few hundred chosen to appear for an interview at Indian Institute of Technology, Madras (my dream world). I was imagining IIT, when my thoughts were broken by the whistling of train. It had reached ‘The Grand Chennai Central Station’, that I had heard a great deal about. It didn’t look any different from other railway stations at my place, when I stepped out of the coach. I realized how vast it was, when I had to walk ten minutes to make my way through the busy crowd at 5am, and reach the exit. It had 12 stations stretched over one and half mile; and truly deserved to be called ‘MASSIVE’.

I took a breath of relief when I finally got out of that station. A fresh breeze of air felt refreshing, when I closed my eyes. When I opened my eyes, I found myself circled by a bunch of taxi drivers, some trying to grab my hand and my luggage, some cursing each other about who would carry this new boy in town. I didn’t panic because I knew my way to IIT. Firmly holding my luggage, I walked away towards the nearest subway across the road.

It looked a neat city, with clean roads, fast moving vehicles, differently shaped buses, metro rails, restaurants, and obviously busy people. I wanted to explore this city more, but for now I had to go to IIT first. A very polite bus conductor directed me to a bus to IIT. The bus raced on the smooth roads, crossed flyovers and in fifteen minutes I stood before the gate of my heaven that I had dreamt of. A day before I had read an article that said IIT, Madras is 30 cooler than rest of Chennai. I was ready to experience this chill.

The excitement grew every second as I travelled through the roads of IIT. Old rusty buildings hidden behind century-old trees, dense trench of trees where deer and monkeys could be spotted made me think if it was an engineering college or a natural habitat for animals. I told myself ‘may be this is how IITs are’. Instruction boards were at every corner that said interference in the animal’s habitat is punishable. Seriously!! Humans seemed like a worthless creature here compared to animals.

It was 8am when I got down at hostel area and was accommodated into a room, all for myself. I was tired because of last night’s sleepless journey, and my body cried for sleep. But as per timings of IIT, breakfast ended at 9. So I hurried to clean my stinking body. Nothing’s more refreshing than a cold shower in a hot summer morning. I rushed to mess for breakfast.

Unlike my expectations, North-Indian food sucked there. I just stuffed my stomach to quench my hunger, despite the disgusting taste. I stepped out to explore the surroundings. A minute later, I cursed that guy who wrote the article about IIT being cooler than Chennai. It was too humid there. Bathing everyday wasn’t a task of concern, because I got drenched in sweat every hour. I restrained myself from going out and chose to rest in my room.

My entire day was spent in my room, succumbed to my loneliness and boredom, doing nothing. I walked out of my den in the evenings when the place felt rather cooler. Interesting people flocked everywhere (People refers to strictly girls in hot dresses). Most of the students were South-Indian but only North-Indian girls caught my attention for one reason. Hearing a fair skinned girl speak Hindi fluently was captivating. But I couldn’t dare to walk to someone and spark a conversation or the least a formal HeLLO. I was neither as charming as ShahRukh, neither did I have a great physique like Hrithik, nor did I carry my style like Beckham; so there was nothing in me that would make a girl want to talk to me. I had always been bad at starting conversations with God’s favorite gender.

My expectations of this place were going way down, thinking I have to spend my evening just as I spent my morning, bored and alone. But thankfully, I saw something. FOOTBALL!! A bunch of local hostelites were playing football. I got into one of their teams and began the game. Everyone around there was resident of Godavari hostel and majority of them were from Karnataka. Damn, it was hard to communicate during the game coz the only language we both understood was English, and you know that the real emotions are best depicted by the language of my choice; Hindi. We did fairly well, trying to speak and we won the game with our marvelous (totally exaggerated) team effort by 3-1. I bid them bye and promised myself that my evenings are never going to be boring, as long as I am here.

That night, when I lay down on my bed, I felt tired of having done nothing all day. Gazing at the ceiling and the fan, I imagined how my life will be at IIT if I fortunately got in. These hostels, junky north Indian food, vast football playgrounds, world class sports facilities; I would do anything to get here. The next morning was my big day; the day of interview.

I woke up the next morning when sun rays peeking in from the window hit my face. I realized it was only 6am. I sat on my bed erect, and scanned the walls that were scribbled all over. Hand sketches of cartoons, forgettable phone numbers, poems (barely romantic), and hell lot of formulae written on one corner wall. FORMULAE!!! Damn it! I had totally forgotten to prepare for the interview. And in the baffle, before I could prepare something seriously, clock struck 7. I rushed to cleanse myself, masked myself with a strong deodorant that would last all day, stuffed my tummy with slices of bread, and off I go.

Good morning IITM. The morning sun shone bright, while many joggers were returning to their dorms. Group of friends flocked around everywhere, catching up on a morning waali chai, and phone bugs hung around with their phones and earphones on. With a bright smile on face, I got into the bus to find it all empty. Adjusting my trousers and my over sized formal shirt, I struggled to stabilize myself in the moving bus and grabbed a seat. I hated formals, coz I cannot carry them. But you see, these were mandatory for an interview.

In less than five minutes, I was at the mechanical engineering block. What a rusty old building it was, barely visible, hidden behind the trees and little deserted too. I asked myself if I was too early, but it was 8am and that’s when I was asked to appear. I found my way to seminar hall, where everyone else appearing for interview on the same day had gathered. My jaw dropped when I opened the door, seeing that there were no less than 800 students of which only 25 would be selected. For a moment I thought if I had come to the wrong place; may be this wasn’t the place for interview. The instruction plate on the door read clearly “Research interviews, Mechanical Engineering” and my doubt was answered. I looked through people there, some were of my age group and while others seemed to have graduated years ago. To my relief, I heard someone say that Ph.D candidates are also being interviewed on the same day and few of these might be appearing for that. I found a corner seat from where I could have a clear view of the entire place. Only a few were dressed in formals and were trying to not mess up their attire, and clearly they were first timers like me. Others were in shorts and casual Ts.

An hour later, instructions arrived that we had to appear for a screening test before facing the interview. Four hours later, I walked out of the exam hall, with my face doomed in mixed emotions. I flunked the written test. I had least hope of clearing it. Lunch at the cafeteria didn’t seem as bad as breakfast; or perhaps that’s what I felt. Screening test was worse than the lunch served. I ate my food in silence and walked to my dormitory. Dumped myself on the bed, and thought to myself “Was I not good enough for the interview?”. Before I could think of something, I fell asleep, out of the tiredness of the morning.

Evening was same as the day earlier, playing football, stalking at girls around, shopping in the local cloth store, and distracting my mind from the failure of today’s test. A little hope still persisted that I would do better the next day.

Three days flew away in the blink of an eye. I flunked miserably in all three interviews I attended. Actually I did fairly better in the last interview in comparison with the first two. Now it was time for me to pack my baggage and find my way out of this place. In four days, I had fallen so much in love with this place. The peaceful atmosphere here (forgetting the heavy moisture content that made me seat all day), the teaching facilities, students from every corner of the country, unforgettably beautiful and rarely seen north Indian girls; all of it was so alluring that I didn’t want to leave this place. It felt like I belonged to this place, like I always have wanted to be in a place like this. When I got down from the bus at the exit gate, I turned around to have one last glance at the top ranked college of India. That moment I told myself “promise yourself that one day you will walk in through these gates, and never have to leave again.”

Clock tick 6 when I walked into the “Chennai Central Station”. The hustle and bustle in the station added more discomfort besides my disappointment of returning home as a failure. It was peak time and everyone at the station was waiting for Chennai express to arrive. My thoughts were crashed by the announcement of the railway department that the train was delayed by 30 minutes. Karma!! Even the Railways don’t want me to leave Chennai so soon. I had to get myself out of these thoughts of dejection and failure, coz worrying now is no way going to help. And I thought to myself “what could be a better distraction than food”, when my eyes fell on the food truck stationed at a corner. Making my way through the crowd, I reached the menu board.

“Two dosas and a plate of Idlis,” I placed my order.

I was scanning through the menu, looking for something more tasty and spicy, when a girl slammed her hand on the counter.

“Six samosas and pudina chutney. Wait, also add Rasmalai to it. And please make it quick,okay?” She went back to looking at her phone and tapping her feet to the rhythm of the song playing in her ears.

“How bossy!! She could be a little polite. Hogi koi bade baap ki beti” I thought to myself.

My thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the guy at the counter”72 rupees sir. That will be 72 rupeees”

I dug into my pockets for a change, but failed and handed him a 100 rupees note. He gave me 20 back and a five star chocolate, with a smile of gratitude.

“Paise kya tere baap ke ped pe ugte hain. Mann toh karta hai iss chocolate ko tere mooh mein ghusa doon” I thought to myself, but took that chocolate from him, with a made up smile, cursing him within. When I turned, the girl was gone. I turned around but she had disappeared in the crowd. Did she just vanish in a second??

Waiting hall was completely occupied. I managed to find a seat at a corner, and looked at my watch; 6:10pm. What do I do for twenty minutes now? Observe!! Observing people around always had been my best pass time. There were many young people around, in their mid twenties, and they all looked like they knew each other. Everyone was talking to someone around, except me who watched them talking. There was a bunch of girls at the far end, and from their baggage, they looked like they were on a holiday, perhaps on a adventure trip like trekking or camping. Beautiful and rough girls!! Adventure reminded me of the photos I had clicked at IIT, some next to the grazing antelopes, some at the great lake. Never in my life had I shot so many pictures at one place. I smirked thinking “Nature can really inspire you to become a photographer. “

Whistle of the train was loud, and at once the whole waiting hall stood to move. Chennai express had arrived, ten minutes before its delayed schedule time. I picked up my baggage, pulling my trunk; I craned over the crowd to look for the S5 coach.

Coach S5, L 47- Aryan Malhotra; I spotted my name on the reservation chart. I walked in and surprisingly I was the only one in the compartment. Resting my bag, relaxing on my berth, I peeked out of the window to look for water bottle vendor. Adjacent compartments were slowly filling up, but my compartment had only me yet. People of all age group were walking in and out of the coach, and I could hear raw Hyderabadi slang; it felt soothing to my ears to hear Hyderbadi language after so long(four days precisely). But what do I do alone in this empty compartment of mine? Updated my facebook status, tagged a few friends in hilarious posts, wished happy birthday to few others, scrolled through facebook wall, but everything seemed so regular and boring.

A noisy bunch of people entered the coach from one end, perhaps they were a joint family as it had kids, aunties, uncles in their 50’s and a huge huge luggage. One of the kids yelled “45 se 52 wahan hai” and my eyes popped out. No no no,I didn’t want this noisy family in my compartment to ruin my peace. And before I could gulp this fact below my throat, they began filling my compartment. 45,46,48,49,51,52; they filled in all seats; aunties with their heavy sarees were trying to load their baggage on upper birth, while I hardly had place to move my ankle. It felt suffocated sitting amidst them as they tried to figure out seats for each other. Moving out of this family drama, I pulled my bag and sat at the other single window seat, to have my peace time.

“sabko apni jagah milgayi? Aur meri jagah kahan hai?” a girl standing at the entrance spoke.

It was the same girl I had seen at the food court, and who vanished before my eyes. Rude and bossy!! Bade baap ki beti. I turned my eyes to not look at her.

“kahan reh gayi thi itni der? Yahan toh sab baith gaye hain. Tu woh window ke paas baith ja” an elderly lady of the family told her, pointing at the seat before me.

I was moving my eyes looking at the lady and the girl, when she said “Excuse me, will you move your bag please?”

“Sure” I said in a low voice, breaking my eye contact and moved bag on to my lap. Squeezing my legs close to make way for her to sit, I wished that she doesn’t fuss now, asking for more leg space. She sat down comfortably, adjusted her clothes, gulped some water and relaxed, while I was trying to squeeze my legs, so that I don’t accidentally touch her. My bag was heavy, but there was no place to rest it. My eyes were looking for some space and she caught me.

“May I help you please? I think your bag can fit in here” she said, pointing at the berth above her. She took my bag and placed it gently there.

“Thank you” I said in a sweet voice, surprised by her sweet gesture. This wasn’t expected.

She smiled and went back to flipping the pages of the book she held.

At the food court, I had no time to look at her. And from the first impression I had of her, I didn’t even wish to look at her. But this second impression of her was different. She wore a pink top with a creamy brown night pant; a small, tight bun over her head, and moderate sized reading classes. She looked cute though. No lip gloss, no eye liner, no plastic put upon face; it seemed like she had forgotten her makeup box in a hurry. She was so immersed in reading the book that she didn’t look up even once.

“Why am I admiring her beauty? As if I have nothing important to do” said to myself and went back to Facebook.

A minute later, one of the two kids in the family moaned, finding it difficult to sit in such little space. She came weeping to her elder sister, sitting before me.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry but can she sit here? She wants to be with me” asked she, looking at me hoping I would nod at her.

“Bag rakhne ke liye jagah nahi hai,and now you want your sister here” I thought to myself. But before I could speak something, the little kid, moved my leg and found her space between us. I was gaping at her in dumb shock, thinking “Fuck, I better jump off the window than squeal here”

“Thank you, I hope you are comfortable “she spoke again, with that bloody disgustingly sweet smile on face. I nodded, having nothing else to say.

Bored of facebook, I thought of starting a conversation with her. But what do I say first? I never have spoken to a girl myself. The book in her hand was PRIDE and PREJUDICE. This seemed like good way to start things off. But at that very moment, the name of its author escaped my mind. Arthur Daniel, William Leslie; it wasn’t any of these names that passed my mind. Author’s name on the cover was so small, that I couldn’t read. I bent my head to have a better view of the cover, when she saw me.

“Pride and Prejudice, the best seller of its year” she said, showing me the book.

I leaned back, calmly and said “Of course, I know”, trying to sound confident.

“Have you read it? I bought this book a while ago at the stall” she said.

“No, I didn’t. But my friend has, and he said it’s good” I said with a shaky voice.

“Of course. That’s why I bought it” she responded, not sounding very friendly.

I leaned back to my seat and took a breath of relief. Thankfully I didn’t showcase as a fool, before her.

An hour passed and we kept quiet; I, hoping she would look at me and boost me to talk to her, and she, being deeply immersed in reading. Fuck! I hated that book in her hands so much. But I chose to break the silence myself.

“So, where do you live in Hyderabad?” I enquired, to which she raised her cheeky big eyes, hiding behind the large frame of glasses.

“Sultanpur. But we are shifting soon to Gandipet. We bought a new house there.” She grinned.

“Wow, that’s cool. And what’s with the visit to Chennai?” I questioned, desiring to know more.

“Big fat wedding. My cousin got married this week. And our entire family had attended it.” She said, showing me her mehendi.

“Is this all your family?”I blurted out, even before I knew what I had asked. That question was really offensive. I fucked up this good going conversation myself. But to my surprise, came her answer “No, the rest of my family is in the next coach. We couldn’t get our seats at one place. You see, ours is a joint family” she smirked.

That’s a GIANT family.

The conversation got better with time. She was sounding sweet to my ears, friendlier than I would expect a stranger to be (especially a girl), and preferring to talk to me over reading the book she carried. Had the sun risen in the east, or was I dreaming? Never had a girl been so nice to me to have talked to me for fifteen minutes at a stretch. Wow! Fifteen minutes of uninterrupted talk with a girl. That felt like an achievement in my life.

Rage of my expectation usually peaked in fraction of minutes. An introvert like me, had lots of things on his list that were yet to be experienced. Some of these to-do’s were talking to a girl, asking for her number, kissing someone, dancing in public with a girl and etc.

It was soon 8pm, and train halted for few minutes at a station. I peeked out of the window, and saw that more passengers were flooding the train. But our coach still seemed spacious, fairly vacant. By then, the giant family next to me had drooped over their Tiffin boxes, feeding each other, littering the entire seat like uncivilized barbarians. This girl, sat before me quietly eating her food, with her ear phones plugged in, and looking out of the window. She didn’t look like she was a part of this noisy, uncivilized family. She was different.

I was finished with the food I had bought for dinner. Stretching my arms, and yawning, I grabbed the novel in my bag. Before I opened the first page of it, the lights of the compartment were turned off. The family was done with dinner and shut the lights off to sleep in peace, unbothered of my presence there. Surprisingly, even the girl had fallen asleep in just a minute. Damn it, I wanted to talk to her, but I cannot dare to wake her for this silly desire of mine. I usually don’t sleep so early. WTF should I do now!!

Tossing around on my berth, I was looking at the dark sky, in a disgusted mood. I hadn’t caught any sleep since the lights turned down. My watch flashed 11pm and I let out a heavy breath of discomfort. The family was deep asleep, snoring heavily to their pleasures, where as I barely had space to move my legs. Cautious that I didn’t disturb the herd, I tiptoed to the door.

Silence brooded over the whole coach, as everyone was fast asleep. Finally there was some peace in the darkness of the coach. Cool breeze of air brushed my face as I stood at the door. Train had caught its full speed. Little lights glowed at a distance, and the feeble cry of cattle could be heard. I always wanted to live my life in a country side home like these, where peace wasn’t scarce. I sat down at the door, to live that moment for a little longer.

“You wouldn’t die if you jump off, instead would end up with broken limbs and disfigured face” I heard a voice from behind.

I turned around, and to my aghast it was her.

“What are you doing here?” I asked horrified.

“You surely don’t own this place. Do you?” her reply slammed on my face.

“I mean, you were asleep right? You lay motionless so long, so I thought you were fast asleep” I retorted.

“So you were stalking me!! “She probed doubtfully.

“Uhh…..” I fell silent. She caught me in the act.

“Chill…. So what are you doing here?” she enquired.

Tumhare family ne mujhe sone kahan diya. I let go off my disgust look on face and turned sweet, to answer her “I couldn’t sleep. I’m not used to sleeping so early.”

“Hmmm….” She exclaimed, sitting down next to me. She looked gorgeous as her hair flew over hair, and she pulled them across her ears.

“So what’s your story?” She asked, looking straight into my eyes. I was jolted by her question. My story!! What does she mean?

“I don’t have any story” I retorted.

“I mean, what brought you to Chennai?” she cleared.

“I was here to attend interviews at IITM”, I answered facing the fast moving trees outside.

“I thought IIT was a college, but not a company. What did you attend interviews for?” she pondered.

“It was for the post of research scholar. It’s for those who wish to do research” I explained in not more than a line, assured that she had no freaking idea of what it was.

“That’s cool” she exclaimed, but with an ironic expression. “Nerd” she whispered in silence.

With passing minutes, she made herself comfortable sitting next to me, leaning on the door for back rest, and closing her eyes now and then. Silence brooded over. I had started to feel little uncertain about how to initiate the talk, though deep within my mind wanted to spend the night talking to her.

“I didn’t catch your name”, I said timidly, trying to sound cool.

“I never told you my name” she replied in an imperious tone, with her eyes still closed. I was awed about how quickly she switches from being sweet the-girl-next-door kind of person to being bossy, egoistic brat kind of person.

I refrained from snapping back at her. Insecurity was driving me now.

“I mean, what’s your name?” I asked, not looking at her.

“Aisha….. Aisha Gujraal is my name. What’s yours?” I heard her question, while I was still gazing outside.

I turned to her, with a smile, but noticing that she still had her eyes closed, I retorted in despair “Devansh Awasthi”.

“Tum toh naam se hi nerd lagte ho”, she blurted out laughing to herself. But silenced, seeing my grave expression. Damn her senseless jokes.

“Sorry yaar, but I’m not used to talking to nerds. This is my first time” she said and giggled.

Offended to the limit, I turned, moved an inch away and went on to enjoy my own company.

“So, what do you do?” she enquired, pretending to be sweet again. I didn’t bother to respond back.

“Hello, I asked what you do” she raised her pitch to make herself audible, amidst the noise of the train.

“Graduation…. Pursuing B.Tech now.” I replied in mono-syllables. Who damn cares to answer her anyway? I dislike her already.

“Oh, I study Commerce, and I totally hate it.” She uttered in a miserable tone.

I already had heard this a million times from many. I wasn’t bothered by her reply, and kept my eyes glued to the view outside.

“I said I hate commerce” she yelled at her highest pitch, assuming that I hadn’t heard her the first time. Damn! Why does she want to be heard always? Why is she here to ruin my tranquility?

“Oh..” I muttered, not knowing what to respond. “so what do you wish to do, if not commerce”

“Fashion Designer!! I wish to be a fashion designer. This one time, I saw a movie in which the lead actress is a wedding planner, and since then, I have been obsessed about it” she said delightfully.

I had the faintest idea of this career choice. I had never heard anyone pursue it, but it surely sounded interesting.

“And how do you think of getting there?” I asked in amusement.

“I haven’t thought of it yet. But I will find a way” she said with a pleasant smile. She seemed certain about her choice of life. I turned towards her, and now she was facing me. It seemed like the perfect moment to start a conversation, now that we both had a pleasant expression.

Clock ticked 12, and I was puzzled about where to begin. The awkward silence, that crept in, amidst the pleasant smiles on our faces, had to cut down.

“Tell me about you. Where do you live in Hyderabad ?” she broke the hush.

And with that began our never ending talk. We were comfortable talking to each other, though we were complete strangers a few hours ago. I didn’t know the reason why? Perhaps it was because of the serene, tranquil night with its clear sky and dazzling star, that worked like magic.

Two hours passed, and we hadn’t stopped. I had never felt time fly so easy, and never had I talked to a girl for so long. I have to ask for her number. I don’t know how. Before I could utter the next word, I heard a voice from behind us.

“Aisha, what on earth are you doing here, at this time?” It was her aunt. She was horrified, seeing that we had been sitting for more than hour at the train door. To me, she looked nothing less than hungry lioness, ready to hunt me down. Her eyes blazed with anger, and in the flash of light that fell on her face, she looked like a blood thirsty vamp.

“ Chachi,main toh bas……” and before she could finish, she was shushed and dragged away by her aunt. I sat there baffled, thinking about what I could have said to avoid this from happening. But then, I felt Acha kiya jo kuch nahi bola, warna aur bura ho sakta tha. Perhaps we were meant to get along this far. I convinced myself that there was no coming back of her, and it was in best interest of me that I rested my eyes now. Less than two hours were left for the sun to hit the skies.

I woke up the next morning, not because of the sun rays peeking in from the adjacent window, but because of the chaos in the compartment. The GIANT family had woke up, and now I was seeing them, gravely staring at me. Instinctively I covered myself, fearing I might be in an obscene posture or was uncovered. Few seconds later, it struck me that the reason was what happened last night. I rolled my eyes around to avoid looking at them, but from the corner of my eye, I could still see Vamp Aunt explain them the scenario of last night. Embarrassed, I moved out to other compartment to avoid any further humiliation, and glued my eyes to my phone screen. A few minutes later, Aisha woke up. She seemed normal, unaffected and walked to washroom. She didn’t even notice me sitting by the window side, ready to smile at her if she looked. But she didn’t.

In less than 20 minutes, the train halted at Hyderabad station. The jostling crowd, waiting for 9am train to work, covered the entire platform. It wasn’t unusual. I grabbed my bags, and got down the train. As I was scanning through the crowd, I saw her family get down too. I stood at a distance, hoping that she would at least look for me. A minute passed, and it turned harder for me to stand there in despair. Finally, there family walked past me. I was still gazing at her, desperately hoping that she would turn around to look at that guy she spent the last night talking to. But no, it didn’t happen. Soon they disappeared in the crowd, and I was left there thinking “This was how it’s supposed to end. When did anything start in the first place? We only had a conversation for a few hours last night, in seclusion, which by no way means that we would see each other’s faces the next morning. I am a total jerk to have thought that the conversation mattered to her. She must have had thousands of such conversations with thousands of strangers…. But it certainly mattered to me, coz it was my first time.”

Soon, we parted our ways amidst the bustling crowd, and disappeared in the busy streets of Hyderabad, my home.