Snaketooth
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There we were. Two Norwergians and someone we belived to be Dutch. In an Irish Pub in Gibraltar. It was early enough that the noise from the other patrons weren't troublesome, yet late enough that we all had consumed that days speciality; 6 pints of Guinness and a squid. We were back at Venture Inn for the first time in a decade, and it had almost been a decade since we last saw each other.
My friends and I met train riding through Europe 14 years ago when we all boarded the train at the South Italian town of Brindisi. I had just come over with the ferry from Greece. Greg had been trying to hussle some local thugs in poker and Theijs - Theijs came with the train, walked out to the platform and jumped back on. He never said why.
The three of us ended ut in the same cart, watching for dark skinned, dark humoured card players. After Greg was convinced that he'd gotten away safely, we ended up talking all the way to Rome. We shared a burger at the train station, because when in Rome - you eat a poorly warmed hamburger. After that our journey went through the southern part of France, into Spain and Theijs convinced us to go to Gibraltar.
"I want to get ****** and sleep on the most southern beach in Europe. That's the dream."
And so it was - and so it became. We took the bus the last way into Gibraltar, entered the first and best looking pub we found, and quickly became obnoxiously drunk at Venture Inn.
Now 14 years later, we were sitting in the same pub. 14 years older and much less drunk. And we started swapping stories from the last decade.
Greg Greig, originally from Bergen, claimed to have Scottish ansestery and to be the nephew of the composer Edvard Grieg. He didn't have an answer to which of them was misspelling his name. He never showed any particular social skills, but had a truly amazing brain when it came to numbers - especially statistics. He'd been kicked out of University when he claimed quite publicly - and quite truthfully - that he knew more than the professors. Less truthfully he claimed to have quit the course. After that he'd made quite a name for himself playing online poker. He was known as Double-G, Good Guy Greg, The original 4G.
Now he was bored. Thus seated at Venture Inn with us.
And Theijs van der Znooten, maybe Dutch, maybe not. He claims to be one or the other - and neither. Even his name seems to be in question. You can't be called Znooten, right? Yet, that was wat he demanded to be called. He was sort of a mystery, he was allways the centre of attention when drinks were around. And without them he rarely opened his mouth.
Then there was me. Ten years as a journalist in local newspapers, a couple of years as a teacher and now - just bored and divorced for the second time.
- Let us just stay here, I suggested.
The other two just stared at me.
- Come on. What can we lose? I really detest my job. Greg, I'm sure they got decent internet connection here as well. You can apply your poker schemes here, can't you? And you Theijs, I really don't know what you do, but I'm sure you can do it here as well.
Theijs looked up at me.
- I'm a football coach. I've allways been one ever since my knee messed up when I was 16 and playing with Go Ahead Eagles.
Now it was me who was staring. The guy who dragged us all around Europe to get ****** at a beach as far south as we could get, was involved in football. And not just any kind of football. Football from the Land of Cruijff. The Land of van Basten. The Land of Total Football.
- Eh, fellas. I know this sounds strange, Greg chimed in. - But last night I won the right to field a team in the Gibraltarian second division.
And now my own dream of football greatness fielded itself. Even though I've never made it past being a substitute at the local boys team, I've allways thought I knew football. I was just not able to perform it.
The night quickly spun out of control. Greg had been playing with the chairman of the Gibraltarian FA the night before. Earlier that day he had accepted the withdrawal of College '75 from the league. With him losing both a team and money, he gave Greg the right to establish a team. Greg had accepted because he knew he could brag about winning a football team. But now the chairman of the FA would once more have a full second division.
And thus Snaketooth FC was born. After 6 pints of Guinness, a squid and a late night poker game.
We only needed players.
My friends and I met train riding through Europe 14 years ago when we all boarded the train at the South Italian town of Brindisi. I had just come over with the ferry from Greece. Greg had been trying to hussle some local thugs in poker and Theijs - Theijs came with the train, walked out to the platform and jumped back on. He never said why.
The three of us ended ut in the same cart, watching for dark skinned, dark humoured card players. After Greg was convinced that he'd gotten away safely, we ended up talking all the way to Rome. We shared a burger at the train station, because when in Rome - you eat a poorly warmed hamburger. After that our journey went through the southern part of France, into Spain and Theijs convinced us to go to Gibraltar.
"I want to get ****** and sleep on the most southern beach in Europe. That's the dream."
And so it was - and so it became. We took the bus the last way into Gibraltar, entered the first and best looking pub we found, and quickly became obnoxiously drunk at Venture Inn.
Now 14 years later, we were sitting in the same pub. 14 years older and much less drunk. And we started swapping stories from the last decade.
Greg Greig, originally from Bergen, claimed to have Scottish ansestery and to be the nephew of the composer Edvard Grieg. He didn't have an answer to which of them was misspelling his name. He never showed any particular social skills, but had a truly amazing brain when it came to numbers - especially statistics. He'd been kicked out of University when he claimed quite publicly - and quite truthfully - that he knew more than the professors. Less truthfully he claimed to have quit the course. After that he'd made quite a name for himself playing online poker. He was known as Double-G, Good Guy Greg, The original 4G.
Now he was bored. Thus seated at Venture Inn with us.
And Theijs van der Znooten, maybe Dutch, maybe not. He claims to be one or the other - and neither. Even his name seems to be in question. You can't be called Znooten, right? Yet, that was wat he demanded to be called. He was sort of a mystery, he was allways the centre of attention when drinks were around. And without them he rarely opened his mouth.
Then there was me. Ten years as a journalist in local newspapers, a couple of years as a teacher and now - just bored and divorced for the second time.
- Let us just stay here, I suggested.
The other two just stared at me.
- Come on. What can we lose? I really detest my job. Greg, I'm sure they got decent internet connection here as well. You can apply your poker schemes here, can't you? And you Theijs, I really don't know what you do, but I'm sure you can do it here as well.
Theijs looked up at me.
- I'm a football coach. I've allways been one ever since my knee messed up when I was 16 and playing with Go Ahead Eagles.
Now it was me who was staring. The guy who dragged us all around Europe to get ****** at a beach as far south as we could get, was involved in football. And not just any kind of football. Football from the Land of Cruijff. The Land of van Basten. The Land of Total Football.
- Eh, fellas. I know this sounds strange, Greg chimed in. - But last night I won the right to field a team in the Gibraltarian second division.
And now my own dream of football greatness fielded itself. Even though I've never made it past being a substitute at the local boys team, I've allways thought I knew football. I was just not able to perform it.
The night quickly spun out of control. Greg had been playing with the chairman of the Gibraltarian FA the night before. Earlier that day he had accepted the withdrawal of College '75 from the league. With him losing both a team and money, he gave Greg the right to establish a team. Greg had accepted because he knew he could brag about winning a football team. But now the chairman of the FA would once more have a full second division.
And thus Snaketooth FC was born. After 6 pints of Guinness, a squid and a late night poker game.
We only needed players.
