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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Inspirational
- Subject: Friends / Friendship
- Published: 08/26/2021
King George
Born 1975, M, from Norfolk, United KingdomKing 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 were only fifteen minutes left, the game went on through the awful downpour.
With seven minutes to go one player from the other squad was badly injured, causing him to scream out in pain while he writhed about on the ground.
“Get up, you pussy,” said 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 pussy. 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.
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. Now 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. Suddenly he felt dizzy. His vision became blurry. He got back into his seat breathing 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 felt 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 there 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.
Colin then replied, “My mate here has had a strange turn. I’m keeping him company until he’s ready to leave.”
The man who was overweight walked over slightly out of breath. In his left hand he held a walkie-talkie. “Are you okay, mate,?” he asked, staring at George.
George peered up at him, before answering wearily, “I’m not sure. I’m quite scared if the truth be told.”
The man seemed worried. “I’ll call you an ambulance. Just stay here and rest.”
George then saw him talking 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. The doctor took his glasses off and 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.
Not being able to watch his beloved team was a life not worth living. Bloody doctors, what do they know.
He proceeded 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.
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 play 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.
..........................
He switched the radio on and listened to the commentary of the game. Next week they were playing at home and being a season ticket holder the seat would wait 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 shouted. “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 decided. 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. Being lonely and not being able to do the things 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. George was ready to take the greatest step that any human had ever taken.
“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.
...........................
He walked into the stadium and 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.
George peered down and saw his seat, and two seats from that 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 relieved.
“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 nearer to 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 twice. 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 people cheered, celebrating the goal.
George tutted. Please, get one back, he thought.
A Spanish player from the London team 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. It took his mind off the troubles of late. Since sitting down, he felt better. 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.
George was 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 stood over him while they stared, not knowing what to do.
George tried to speak. From the many faces, one person came closer. George couldn’t believe it. It was him. The best footballer to ever play for his beloved team. 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, then everything went black.
......................
George opened his eyes. He lay 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.
Then a voice was heard.
“How do you feel, George?” It was a man’s voice that he found familiar.
To his left sat 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 named 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 George's 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?”
George looked away from him. 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.
“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that,” he replied.
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 every day, he rang the number on the card which Brian had given him.
Two weeks later George sat 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 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, then said, “The kids love you. The players I mean. They’ve given 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've told about Norwich football club through the years.”
Suddenly 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.
King George(Stephen Pearmine)
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 were only fifteen minutes left, the game went on through the awful downpour.
With seven minutes to go one player from the other squad was badly injured, causing him to scream out in pain while he writhed about on the ground.
“Get up, you pussy,” said 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 pussy. 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.
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. Now 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. Suddenly he felt dizzy. His vision became blurry. He got back into his seat breathing 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 felt 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 there 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.
Colin then replied, “My mate here has had a strange turn. I’m keeping him company until he’s ready to leave.”
The man who was overweight walked over slightly out of breath. In his left hand he held a walkie-talkie. “Are you okay, mate,?” he asked, staring at George.
George peered up at him, before answering wearily, “I’m not sure. I’m quite scared if the truth be told.”
The man seemed worried. “I’ll call you an ambulance. Just stay here and rest.”
George then saw him talking 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. The doctor took his glasses off and 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.
Not being able to watch his beloved team was a life not worth living. Bloody doctors, what do they know.
He proceeded 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.
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 play 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.
..........................
He switched the radio on and listened to the commentary of the game. Next week they were playing at home and being a season ticket holder the seat would wait 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 shouted. “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 decided. 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. Being lonely and not being able to do the things 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. George was ready to take the greatest step that any human had ever taken.
“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.
...........................
He walked into the stadium and 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.
George peered down and saw his seat, and two seats from that 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 relieved.
“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 nearer to 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 twice. 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 people cheered, celebrating the goal.
George tutted. Please, get one back, he thought.
A Spanish player from the London team 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. It took his mind off the troubles of late. Since sitting down, he felt better. 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.
George was 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 stood over him while they stared, not knowing what to do.
George tried to speak. From the many faces, one person came closer. George couldn’t believe it. It was him. The best footballer to ever play for his beloved team. 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, then everything went black.
......................
George opened his eyes. He lay 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.
Then a voice was heard.
“How do you feel, George?” It was a man’s voice that he found familiar.
To his left sat 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 named 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 George's 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?”
George looked away from him. 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.
“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that,” he replied.
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 every day, he rang the number on the card which Brian had given him.
Two weeks later George sat 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 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, then said, “The kids love you. The players I mean. They’ve given 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've told about Norwich football club through the years.”
Suddenly 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.
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