UnsyisaRhino wrote: Tue Aug 25, 2026 11:44 am
I can see it now.
Moyes walks into the canteen on Finch farm, obviously not happy with something. He scans the room, before finally setting his gaze on the kids table. Plastic plates, sporks, pre-cut grapes, cheese strings and empty cartons of Umbongo are scattered across the table.
"Fingers on ye fuckin' lips!" he spits as he walks over to the table, enraged that rather than doing their defensive duties, they seemed to be 'having fun'. He charges over kicking Jake's tiny plastic chair out from under him. Everyone freezes except for Rohl, who very quietly puts his camera away.
Alan Irvine is stood behind Moyes, studiously taking notes while occasionally checking a stopwatch.
"Put this on and keep yer mouth shut!" Moyes forces the words out through gritted teeth, throwing a cap in Jake's face. The letters 'RB' are crudely etched onto the front with a biro. He glares at them, his eyes bulging, hair miraculously turning ginger again through nothing but the power of Scottish rage. He reaches forward, players flinching away, picking up a pork pie from the table and swallowing it whole, before making eye contact with each of them individually as he forces it down, the ultimate power move.
"You'll get on the pitch when ye've run your 1000 miles and not a minute before!!!" He shouts before pulling out a crumpled picture of Dwight McNeil from his pocket, trying in vain to smooth it out on his leg as a small tear starts to drip down his face. Scribbled at the bottom, in what suspiciously looks like Irn-bru are the words " 10km a game, he averaged 10k!". He gently folds it this time, and places it back in his pocket, eyes returning to the youngsters who have now slowly begun to huddle around the far side of the table.
One last outburst of "DO THE FUCKING MILES!" punctuates a quick spin from Moyes, his hair almost glowing at this point, before he walks directly through the nearby wall, 3 feet from the nearest door, leaving an almost perfect Moyes shaped silhouette. The youngsters watch in stunned silence as Baines and Irvine walk over to a small cupboard, pull out a sheet of plaster board and tack it over the hole. It had obviously been pre-cut.
Tarks and Keane are the first to move, they laugh as they stand, try to high-five but awkwardly half miss, repeating the process twice before giving up and going for an even more awkward half fist bump, half handshake. "Maybe next week Jake!" Tarks says as he heads to the door, kicking a bin in Jakes direction on the way out.
Baines slowly walks over to Jake, offering him a small bowl of tangerine segments as he helps him back into his seat. "I've been there lad".
Jake picks up his phone and dials his agent.