Jose Maria was kinda glad that he's leaving this town. Leaving his newly ex-wife behind. He checked like for the millionth time, if he has everything needed for his journey to England.

„C'mon guys. Help me out here. I don't want to find out that I left my toothbrush at home after spending 2 hours being sick in a plane."

„You know, you can buy one in England. English people clean their teeth too, muchacho." A tall annoying blond English guy with terrible Spanish laughed at his own joke and showed the other two his pearly whites.

The other guy, dark haired Spaniard looked slightly embarrassed for his friend and decided to move on and help Jose Maria.

"Alright. Do you have a passport?"

"Check."

"The plane ticket?"

"Check."

"So… you're good to go."

Jose Maria sat sadly on a sofa.

"I'm not sure if I am doing the right thing. Leaving my kids here. Moving to another country. What if I won't get along with the coach? And that team? They are like, what, 18th in the Premier league. That team is a joke!"

"So make it a good joke." Raul patted his friend on a back "It's gonna be alright, pal. Don't worry. Right, David?"

David stopped looking at himself in the mirror and nodded.

"Yeah. London is a helluva city."

As usually icy-glaring David gave him a bear hug, Jose Maria couldn't help it and let a single tear escape his eye. He felt like leaving a family behind. Well, he was, indeed.

As he pulled away from David and nodded for the last time towards Raul, he kept reminding himself that it's the right thing he's doing. And without one last glance back he walked through the gate and into a completely different world.

"José María Gutigoméz?"

Guti looked up to find a small fat man staring back at him.

"Yeah?"

"Welcome to London. I'll escort you to the hotel. You want some rest, I s'ppose. You'll meet your employer tomorrow. 'Till then I'm your guardian angel." Roughly laughed the man and stretched his right hand towards José.

OMG. Damn Englishmen.

"So, I can show you the stadium, if you want. We're really driving nearby. But you don't have to, of course. So, do you?" A little fatty looked to his back mirror with eyes filled with hope.

Jose Maria was bored, tired and deprived from the foggy weather but he didn't want to let the little man down.

"Yeah, sure. Why not?"

The small fat man parked the car in front of the stadium. They got off the car and Jose Maria looked up to see the big blue letters near the roof. West Ham. i Well. I'd rather be here than in Philadelphia. /i He got back to the car and put his frozen hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"So, this is what you call summer, huh?"

Small fat man gave him a cold look. OMG. Damn Spaniards.

In the morning the very next day Jose Maria woke up early. He called the small fat guy, who came to the hotel immediately and drove him to his new employer. Jose Maria had a little chat with his new boss, they took some pictures with the new jersey with number 14 and he was told that he'll join the training programme the day after tomorrow. After all these formalities he was sent to the cafeteria to have some breakfast. He was a calm guy, afraid of anything, but he found his hands shaking when he saw what he got served.

"¿Cuál el infierno es ése?" He asked in disgust, not really expecting an answer, since he was eating alone.

"Confiarme en, compañero. No deseas saber." A cheery voice answered.

Jose Maria looked up and saw a young man, probably a Mexican, sitting at the next table.

"Hi. My name is Santiago Munez. I'm from Los Angeles."

"Hey. I'm Jose María Gutigoméz, but they call me just Guti."

„Hi Guti!" Said the youngster happily. Jose Maria started to wonder, if the boy is on some drugs or something.

Jesus. This must be the lamest conversation I've ever had.

He stood up and said goodbye to the young Mexican. He wasn't really that hungry, after all. He got to the street and slowly walked across the empty street. He saw some graffiti decorations on the wall. Especially the dark one caught his attention. The painting really expressed his feelings. It started to rain. He covered his blond hair with a hood and ran for a shelter. He reached a pub at a corner of a street. He looked around the street, feeling little uncomfortable with suddenly being a foreigner, after 30 years living in the same street.Well, fuck it.

He entered the pub, which was quite empty at this daytime, only a few lads were hanging at the bar and playing pool.

"Can I 'elp you, son?" A tall, dark haired man behind the bar asked him.

"Um, yeah, a beer would be good." He answered and sit on a bar chair. The guy next to him was holding the newspaper and showing a title picture to his friend, a tall, rather skinny blond guy wearing an adidas t-shirt.

"What da fuck. How can they make up a story from one bloody picture? Know what I mean, Petey?"

"Yeah, mate. I feel ya. Usama is dead anyway, ain't 'e." Pete took a sip of his beer and laughed. "I thought yew read only The Curran' Bun anyway."

Jose Maria just sat there and didn't really care about the other customers, until he heard them mention "the Bubbles". He looked up at the nearest guy.

"…da moron didn't even know da song. He just stood there, actin' oh-so-rough.." The guy laughed and Guti observed the others. They were all well-built, young and with a beer in the hand.

He spoke up to the man sitting next to him. "Erm, excuse me, did you mention "the Bubbles"?"

Brow haired man narrowed his eyes on him. " Yeah. You 'ave some problem wiv that? Millwall, 'uh? You've discomdodulated da pubs, mate?"

Guti shifted on the seat. All of sudden they seemed to be in rage. "No, you've misunderstood me. I asked 'cause I've heard about that song, but don't know the words and all. Just thought I'd ask whether it's truth about it being sung on every match played by the West Ham. You know, I'm a new player there, and don't want to appear on the pitch with absolutely no information and…" his blabbing was stopped by the tallest man looking as the leader of their group.

He came closer and put a hand on his shoulders. " You're kiddin' me, mate, right? You wan' ter get kicked out, right, mate? You know, da Millwall fans ain't exactly on a safe ground 'ere.."

Jose Maria looked confused. Poor guy didn't even know how he got in this situation.

"Nah, i mate /i , I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE IN THE HELL MILLWALL IS. IF YOU GOT A PROBLEM, THEN IT´S YOUR FUCKIN´ PROBLEM. NOT MINE." He saw that one thuggish guy came dangerously close to him, so he calmed his voice.

"Listen. I just came here to have a beer or two, to relax a little after changing a climate and maybe, just maybe make some friends in the new country. Apparently I messed up. I'm sorry. I thought that you are some West Ham fans. I thought it would be nice to get to know my new club and his fans a little bit better but I was wrong and I'm sorry. Please, don't kick the shit out of me. I'm too pretty to fight." He snickered as he saw that rage pulsing in tall blond's eyes is already gone.

"So yew really play fer Migh'y Hammers, innit. Awright geeezzaa! What is ya name, mate?"

"My name? Jose Maria Gutigoméz."

Couple of guys started to laugh and the tension that filled the room minutes ago was gone for good.

"For bombay duck sake anuvver Mexican?" Cried out the thuggish guy and the blond started to laugh.

„Awright Josie. I'm Pete. This is my mate Bovver, that's Dave and Swill."

„Oi mate."

Jose Maria shook his hand with the guys a he could force himself not to smile while taking another sip. Looks like I will make some friends tonight.