Can’t you just tell me what the hell’s going on?
Caminero.
What about him? (BILLY makes a gesture. TONY cannot work out what he means.) What? What?
He’s not playing, dammit!
Who?
Caminero! For God’s sake! Of course you’ve not heard, you don’t seem to give a shit. I just don’t get it, kiddo. I can’t understand why you’d come all the way here just to flop down on your backside scratching your balls and not giving a shit whether we play in 4-4-2 or 4-3-3 or Catenaccio[1] or 5-1-1 or whatever it bloody is. Come on Tony, don’t mess me about, you’ve got some nerve …
Me neither.
What?
I don’t get it, either.
What you mean? The Caminero thing? It’s nothing. He says it hurts each time he kicks the ball. Inject him with something, for God’s sake! You see …
No, what I don’t get is how I managed to drag myself twelve hours on the train, hefting your bag, with all this … paraphernalia ... to get here five days before this darn game …
What’re you trying to say?
Nothing.
What do you mean ‘nothing’? What do you mean by that? Bloody hell! It’s not as if I dragged you here kicking and screaming! Did I force you to come? Did I?
I know, you’re right. But … five days?? That’s a long time, Billy.
Here we go again! Do I have to remind you of the queues there’ll be? Want me to paint you another picture of the thousands of people bellowing like crazies, fleets of ambulances, police on horseback, hooligans, ticket touts, TV crews, radio crews, press, … God knows what else!? (He checks his watch.) All in just a few hours.
The above sample taken from the translation Olé olé olé! by Gwynneth Dowling is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
And the others?
What others?
The others! What? Is there no one else on the team? No substitutes?
Ahhhh….
Billy, I asked you a question.
Get some sleep. Go on, get some sleep, champ. Save your strength.
What is it? Don’t they have a bench? Don’t they have a sixteen-man squad? Is he that great, this Conmanero of yours?
Ca-mi-ne-ro.
Alright, him. What is it about him? Can absolutely no one take his place? BILLY: Go on, get some sleep. You’re exhausted.
Who, me? If you wouldn’t mind … if you wouldn’t mind …
Sleep now, little Tony, it’s too much …
Well, that’s just fine then. And where are you off to? First I’m shaken awake and told a bunch of nonsense, then when I try and think about the thing reasonably I’m told to go back to sleep. You’re a … you’re a …
Lie down there, champ. Let’s keep the party civil.
What the hell do you mean ‘lie down there’? What the hell do you mean? Can we not have a civil conversation? Are we going to spend five nights and five days here without exchanging a civilised word to one another? Can’t we get some adult relationship going?
Jesus Christ! (Pause.) That’s all I need! Look here, Tony, kiddo – don’t be coming over all philosophical on me, coz I’ll end up thumping you. Have you no idea how much you’ve already pissed me off?
Pissed you off? (Pause.) How?
You spend the journey throwing up. And then when you get here you’re exhausted. All you want to do is sleep or visit monuments and whatever the hell else … In my heart of hearts, kiddo, I don’t think you understand the first thing about football. Not the first thing, champ!
What do you mean? (Squaring up to BILLY.) Just because you’ve decided …
Well, don’t pretend you’re any match for me.
What?
You even managed to confuse Ca-mi-ne-ro with Con-man-ero, for God’s sake, Tony!
It was a lapsus. A lapsus linguae.
Don’t you talk to me like that, I’ll give you a good drubbing.
A what?
The above sample taken from the translation Olé olé olé! by Gwynneth Dowling is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
Oggy oggy oggy!
Oi oi oi! What’s …
Oggy oggy oggy!
Oi oi oi! Christ, they’re here already, the crowd’s arrived.
Oggy oggy oggy!
Oi oi oi!
Es-pa-ña! Es-pa-ña!
Andy, big man!
Olé, olé, olé, olé! Olé, olé!
Thank God you’ve arrived. This is great!
We’re going to win the match! We’re going to win … !
And the others?
Es-pa-ña! Es-pa-ña!
That Andy’s something else! It’s great to see him.
Here we go, here we go, here we go! Here we go, here we go, here we go!
But, the others?
What others?
Where’s the gang?
The gang? Don’t talk to me about them. They’re a disgrace. A bunch of reprobates!
But … what happened? Did they pull out?
Ahhh! (Behaving as if he’s just won the lottery.) One hundred big ones! One hundred big ones!
A bet? You’re still making those bets?
Yeah, and they can go to hell. They’re all a disgrace. At the last minute they’d the nerve to bet I wouldn’t get here on my own. So here I am, five days early, staring down the barrel of the gun like a true man, like a true Spaniard, eh Billy? (Hugging him.) Here we go, here we go, here we go! They don’t know me very well, eh Billy?
The party doesn’t start until you’ve arrived, my friend.
The above sample taken from the translation Olé olé olé! by Gwynneth Dowling is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
The hell you are! You and four million other poor sods. Four million out of work! Sure this country is fucked up enough without you going around …
Without going around wasting money on football games, eh?
What?
Shut it, kiddo. Shut it.
If this country’s in such a state, isn’t it odd to be travelling the length and breadth of it to get here … unless you’ve got a healthy bank balance, a secure job … eh, Billy?
What do you mean by that?
Shut it, kiddo. He’s going to thrash you.
What do you mean by that? This is all I need, some irresponsible kid telling me …
Irresponsible? And what does that make you? What does that make you, eh?
Shut it, he’s going to go for you.
Are you proud of what you’ve done? You think Cristina doesn’t know? That she was born yesterday? That she doesn’t know where you go when you leave the house?
I’m going to thump you!
Hit me then! Beat me like you beat that other guy. If you think it makes you the big man, if you think doling out beatings is going to stop people saying to your face what they all know and what they’re all saying behind your back …
What are you talking about, kiddo?
Go on, Billy, tell him. Tell Andy why they fired you. Tell him where you got the money to come here.
You’re fired? But didn’t you take a few days’ leave?
Go on, Billy, tell him.
Who the hell are you telling to ‘go on’?
Why on earth did they fire you?
Stick it up your …!
See what I mean, Andy? It’s impossible to talk to him. He’s a lunatic, a …
A disgrace!
The above sample taken from the translation Olé olé olé! by Gwynneth Dowling is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
Entry written by Gwynneth Dowling. Last updated on 4 January 2011.