Hooligans Page #6

---

It's not a gang, Dad. They're my friends.

- Are you at least writing about it?

- Am I writing about it? No.

Hey, Matt, listen.

I want you to come home with me.

- What?!

- Look.

You may not trust me as your father,

but as a fellow journalist,

your reputation is all you have.

You've gotta get back to Harvard

and clear your name.

- We can fight it together.

- Forget it, Dad.

- I'm not going home.

- Jesus...

Look, if it makes you feel better,

I am keeping a journal.

It's one thing you taught me I held onto.

I knew that.

I was just making sure.

- Hey, Steve.

- How you doing?

Good to see you.

- Matt.

- Hey.

I'm gonna change.

What time's your flight?

Take your time.

My cab will be here in half an hour.

I have to say farewell to my grandson.

I gotta take off, Dad.

Oh. OK, Matt.

Look, I know things have not been...

Great to see you.

- How you doing?

- Good.

So you'll be celebrating the draw

with the lads?

The draw. Wait, who did we get?

- You don't know?

- No.

- Oh, come on, Steve. Who?

- Millwall.

At home.

Huh!

Hello.

Don't we want to play?

- Hey, gorgeous.

- Hey.

- You OK?

- Mm.

Yeah, I was just watching my dad

playing with Ben.

He's already a better grandfather

than he ever was a dad.

You know, he seems like

a decent bloke now.

For a bloody journo.

So he was an arsehole

when you were growing up.

I guess that's why neither of you

joined the old man's racket.

What do you mean?

- You know. Followed in his footsteps.

- What are you talking about? Matt did.

What do you mean?

Matt was always a little more fascinated

with our absentee father than I was.

Shannon, what do you mean, "Matt did"?

That's what Matt studied at Harvard.

He was a journalism major.

I just really hope that he gets back to it.

You know, once he gets your brother

out of his system.

[# Acarine:
Stand Your Ground]

So he's a Yank and an undercover journo.

Looks like we'll have to give him two funerals.

# My boy from the land of apple pie

Dropped in a culture of an eye for an eye

# We're up for combat and beyond that

Sky News, News at Ten, I'll be on that... #

# Hit the Wall, hit the Wall

Hit the Wall, hit the Wall

- # We are the Millwall haters #

- [all chanting] We hate Millwall!

- What are you doing here?

- I want a word with you outside.

- What happened? Is Shannon OK?

- Yeah, Shannon's fine.

Why didn't you tell me?

Steve Dunham just walked in.

- Why didn't you say you're doing journalism?

- I'm not, I quit. What's the difference?

Well, listen, mate, to some people,

it makes a huge difference.

What would you know about that?

Listen. I like you, but you have no idea

what you're getting into.

I've gotta tell my brother

that his new best mate is a journalist.

So me and you are going outside now.

[Barman rings bell] A toast.

Stevie Dunham, back in the Abbey

after all these years.

Welcome home, Major. The Major!

[All chanting] Major! Major! Major!

[All chanting] GSE! GSE! GSE!

[Knocking]

Hang on.

All right, boys. What you doing here?

- The Yank here?

- No, he's...

- A f***ing undercover journo.

- What?

- No, bollocks.

- No, it's straight, mate.

I seen him down at the Times walking out.

Shaking hands, proper pally.

What's that all about?

Think about. Drops in out of nowhere.

Never been in a scrap in his life.

Snugs in nice and tight with a top boy

at a firm.

For f***'s sake, Pete,

what else was he doing at the Times?

No, that means f*** all.

Could've been any one of a hundred reasons

he was down there.

- This time I'd like to make sure of that myself.

- You sure of this, Bov?

'Cause if you're coming in here like this,

you f***ing well better be.

Yeah, watch out, son.

- What? This his, is it?

- Yeah.

Yeah? What the f*** is this?

Here, Keith, you know about all this

computer stuff. Have a look.

What's this?

F***ing c*nt.

Here we go.

"First match:

West Ham v. Birmingham. Home.

"Pete brought me to the Brigid Abbey Pub

on Walsh Road,

"his main hangout,

and introduced me to his gang."

Oh, look, we're a f***ing gang now.

Make it go up.

"Bovver is Pete's thuggish righthand man.

"Keith is sort of Bovver's enforcer."

You happy now? We're all in there.

He didn't say nothing about me.

Wait here. I'll put some clothes on.

- So you're the Major?

- I was the Major.

I guess to some I still am.

Terry here was my righthand man

back in the glory days.

That was a long time ago, though, mate.

Why'd you get out of it?

I was a crazy bastard back then.

All I f***ing cared about was my reputation

amongst the firms of England.

You've heard all the stories

about Millwall, yeah?

Last match I went to was Millwall-West Ham.

We're talking a good ten years ago.

I mean, we'd been waiting for this match

all year.

At Millwall. Yeah, stepping into their ground.

Completely outnumbered.

We were f***ing wired from the start.

Now, Tommy Hatcher,

he was their main man back then.

He used to bring his 12-year-old boy

to the grounds, Tommy Jr.

Always banging on how he brought this kid up

to be like a little pitbull.

Well, we lost that match, three nil.

And those Millwall c*nts

started laughing at us.

And I just f***ing snapped.

I couldn't let it lie, you know?

So I assembled all our troops

and we hunted them down.

[Sombre piano music]

I saw that little lad go down.

[Tommy] Wait! No!

And I saw his skull get crushed

under the boots of the GSE.

I never went to another match after that.

And I left "The Major" behind.

And that's when I met your sister.

She was my angel. She really saved me.

Showed me a new life.

Helped me forget all this bollocks.

And she swore she'd leave me

if I ever returned to it.

And when it comes back to me, and

believe me, it f***ing does, that madness...

I mean, when I hear the roar of the stadium

on match day,

the lads calling me to get pissed

out of me f***ing tree...

When I think of that,

I think about getting back into it...

And Shannon and Ben, they remind me...

...there's more to life than all this.

Get all those juicy details, mate?

Writing it all down?

- What?

- You f***ing journo c*nt!

- You sure you know what you're doing here?

- He's f***ing undercover.

- Don't tell him nothing!

- I said, are you sure?

What? You already knew.

All I knew is that he studied journalism,

right, at Harvard. But he's dropped out.

We found his journal,

full of stories about all of us.

- It's a f***ing diary!

- Ned saw you at the Times

with a couple of journos.

That was my Dad.

He's the journalist, you knew that.

- His old man's a journo and you knew.

- That don't mean nothing yet.

He studies to be a journo,

his old man is a journo.

What's the difference?

You let one of them get in with us.

- I wasn't trying to get anything.

- You, shut the...!

I don't care who he is.

You don't do someone on the deck.

What's wrong with you? He's gonna

bury us all and you're just gonna watch?

No. Now, Steve, you're the Major.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes