Renaldo (38 page)

didn’t like about being there alone. He was making up for his home cooking

experiments when Gordero popped ‘the’ question.

“Have you been in touch with Miss Carta-Aqua since your return?” The

sudden mention of her name caught the diner totally off-guard. He had trouble

clearing the frittata and croissant from his mouth, enabling him to reply.

“No, no, Señor, you are the only person I have called. I really can’t see

what possible attraction I could be to someone as famous and lovely as Señorita

Simone, but I plan to call her tonight, hopefully to find out once and for all.”

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JAMES McCREATH

“Don’t sell yourself short, my boy,” Gordero mumbled, his mouth

overflowing with Spanish omelette. “Um, she . . . one moment . . . there! Simone

told me that she found your innocence and enthusiasm very appealing. The

young lady is constantly surrounded by show business people. Most of them are

full of shit! Just ‘hangers-on,’ looking to feather their own nests.”

The look of disgust on the attorney’s face was one Renaldo could easily

imagine being put to good use in a courtroom rebuttal or scathing cross-

examination. His host’s demeanor brightened suddenly with the recollection

of one word.

“Refreshing! Yes, it was definitely ‘refreshing!’ That was the word she

used to describe her luncheon companion the other day. She was talking about

you, son. So call her, Renaldo. Don’t let this woman slip through your fingers

or you will regret it the rest of your life.”

“I will, Señor Gordero. I really plan to call her. It is, well, I guess that I am

just a little star-struck, being such a fan of hers for so many years.

“How do you think the draw will work out? Everyone is sitting on pins

and needles, waiting to see who our first round opponents will be.” A look of

enthusiastic anticipation was directed toward the knowledgeable one.

Better to shift the conversation away from Symca and the accompanying

embarrassment to a subject that Gordo can expound upon at great length
, Renaldo

thought swiftly.

“Oh, what a headache. Those crybaby Dutchmen insist that they should

be seeded fourth, ahead of Italy! The Italians have already won two World Cups

and been runners-up another time. But the Dutch feel that because they were

finalists in Germany four years ago that they should get the seeding. It is a

plum posting which allows the chosen team to play all its games in Mendoza.

Mendoza will be like paradise for any team lucky enough to be based there,

with its clean Andean air and very few distractions.”

Another pregnant pause ensued as the ‘El Hombre Gordo’ changed plates

for the fruit and cheese course. A sip of coffee, and on he pressed with further

enlightenment.

“The committee is leaning towards giving the Dutch what they want.

Then, to keep the Italians happy, we will have to put them in Group One with

us! That is their preference, playing Argentina instead of Holland, Germany,

or Brazil in the first round. Hopefully, you and your new teammates will make

them regret their decision to be grouped with Argentina!”

One could not blame the Italians
, Renaldo thought. The facts were that

Holland, Brazil, and Germany would all be heavy tournament favorites, while

Argentina and its reconstructed football program would almost certainly be

taken very lightly by the foreign competitors and press. The insult did stir

some resentment in the rookie player as the lawyer kept up his diatribe.

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RENALDO

“There is so much at stake in this draw! We would much rather have put

Italy in Mendoza to assure high attendance figures in the provincial venues, but

the consolation is that the Argentina-Italy game will be in Buenos Aires now.

That game should set both attendance and television viewer records.

“Oh, and let us not forget those other international crybabies, the

Brazilians. We have gone out of our way to make sure that they will be pleased

with their facilities. Their first choice for a location was Mar del Plata. So where

do we put them? Mar del Plata! Then last month they go whining to FIFA that

they are worried about the climate there in December. Too harsh to suit their

refined playing style. Well, screw them! Luckily, it was the only city outside

of the capital that had enough hotel rooms to meet their quota. So there they

stay!

“The organizing committee meets today at two o’clock to finalize the

seedings and select which urns the other countries’ names will be put in.

We have to mix up the strong and weak teams, as well as divide them up

geographically. At least no one will be able to accuse the person that draws the

names out of the urns of cheating. It is going to be Señor Havelange’s three-

year-old grandson that will make the draw. Let the Brazilians accuse him of

cheating! Ha! He is one of their own.”

Renaldo was, in turn, fascinated and relieved sitting at this early morning

feast and listening to Astor Gordero’s privileged information. He had no idea of

the behind-the-scenes politics that went on prior to an event such as the World

Cup. He was also happy that Symca’s name had faded from The Fat Man’s

memory. When Gordero had consumed his fill at the table, he motioned to his

desk on the opposite side of the room.

“Gentlemen, shall we discuss some business?” The two waiters helped to

pull back the oversized chair from the end of the table, allowing its occupant

to escape and waddle slowly across the room. Once seated for a second time, he

opened a folder and nodded to Herr Stoltz.

“Do you mind if I don’t dress for the formal part of our meeting, Renaldo?

I would stay in pajamas all day if I could get away with it. I find clothes so

restricting, so hard to buy the proper coordinates, for obvious reasons. That

Hefner man that started Playboy has the right idea. He never gets dressed, just

lies around, smoking his pipe in silk pajamas and servicing all those gorgeous

rabbits.”

“I do believe they are called ‘bunnies,’ Señor Gordero,” Wolfgang Stoltz

interjected in his precise German accent.

“Whatever, Wolfie, but I’ll bet you they all screw like rabbits!”

Renaldo almost broke out laughing when he heard the very proper German

being referred to as ‘Wolfie.’ The confusion about rabbits and bunnies also put

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JAMES McCREATH

a smile on his face. The multi-paged document that Herr Stoltz handed him

brought his train of thought back to more pressing matters.

“What you have been handed by Herr Stoltz is a standard player-agent

contract that I have used several times in the past. We can go over it page by

page and clause by clause, if you like, or I can give you the most pertinent

clauses to look at and mark right away. Needless to say, this agreement is only

valid if you make the final cut and stay on the team. If you succeed, then certain

bonus clauses, additional money paid to you, that is, come into effect. Up until

the final team is announced, no funds will be advanced to you, but I retain

the right to handle all your publicity, public appearances, media interviews,

etcetera.”

Gordero paused long enough to get a nod of comprehension from his

perspective client, then continued with the contract’s summary.

“Things will be primarily general image making at this point. I will

not charge you for my time in this regard, as it is unlikely that there will be

much attention focused on you as an untried rookie, at least in the early stages.

I will handle the negotiations of your final contract fee with Octavio Suarez.

As I mentioned, that sum is not payable until the final cut is made. Once it

is announced that you are on the World Cup squad, my meter starts ticking.

As your agent, I take ten percent of your gross salary. Also ten percent of any

endorsement or public appearance fee. There is no telling the financial range

that these items could fall into at this time. Play well for your country, and they

could be substantial, astronomical even!

“Now, there are also certain morals clauses that you must adhere to,

probably similar to the regulations that you found in Suarez’s bible. Again, they

are image makers, and I cannot stress these enough! I want you clean-shaven in

public at all times! That should not be a problem with your background. Also,

jacket and tie are required at all media gatherings. Thank God you went to a

private school. Some of my football clients from the provinces didn’t even own

a tie when I met them, let alone know how to make a knot properly.”

Renaldo knew this point to be true, as some of his under twenty-one club

teammates still needed his help to tie their neckties before facing the press. He

thought of those players and what they would think of him trying out for the

national team. Just as his mind started to wander from all the regulations and

legal jargon, Gordero mentioned a subject that snapped the boy back to full

attention.

“Stay away from bars, brawling, and broads. They are all off-limits until

next July. I have had this discussion with Señorita Carta-Aqua as well, so should

the two of you decide to get together for an evening out, I am afraid that it will

have to be with my approval. In any event, we are putting Symca to work as a

goodwill ambassador for the World Cup Tournament, and she will be on the

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RENALDO

road touring almost nonstop between now and the opening game. So that is

not a great concern to me.”

Gordero continued to list off clauses and restrictions concerning Renaldo’s

deportment, but the boy’s mind was now ruminating on the comment about

Symca being on the road until June. Not wanting Gordero and his assistant to

know how much that news had taken the wind out of his sails, he tried to nod

approval whenever he thought it was necessary. From that comment on though,

he really didn’t hear a word that they were saying. All that he could focus on

was one act . . . calling her right away, tonight!

“Well, those are the important clauses, Renaldo. Now, because of your

age, I would not be insulted if you wished to take this agreement to a lawyer of

your choice. Someone that you have known for a while, someone that handles

your family business matters. It is up to you. How did your mother take to the

news of you joining the team? Is there any input that you would like her to

have in this regard?”

“No, Señor Gordero, I have cut the apron strings, and I would prefer that

none of my family advisers have any knowledge of my personal matters from

this moment on.”

Renaldo paused for an instant, and Gordero thought that he saw tears

welling in the young man’s eyes.

“I believe that I told you on the train from Córdoba of my secret pledge,

my driving desire to do something in my dead father’s memory. You have

opened the door for that pledge to become reality, Señor Gordero. You see,

until I met you, I had no hope of fulfilling my pledge, certainly not at this

point in my life. It was only in my dreams and fantasies that I was able to

accomplish what I had hoped to do, to play for our National World Cup team

and help win the championship for Argentina. My father was such a fan of the

sport. It cost him his life, but he had a passion for the game that was totally out

of character for the man. My mother used to say that he was always so logical,

so controlled, until you put him in a soccer stadium. It is you that have given

me the opportunity to make my pledge a reality, Señor Gordero. For that, I will

be eternally grateful. I do not need to see another attorney before signing this

agreement. As I have said, you have opened doors for me already that I never

thought could be opened. My fate is in your hands, Señor, so if you have a pen,

I am ready to sign!”

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JAMES McCREATH

Do it now, right now! All seven digits, 555-7399. There, OK. It’s done. It’s

ringing, so take a deep breath and try to sound calm and cool. Three rings . . . no answer