Beatles Read Online Free Page A

wing this year,’ John said.
    ‘Probably have to count our blessings if we’re in the team at all,’ George thought.
    ‘If I have to play at the b-b-back, I ain’t interested,’ Ringo said. ‘I get so nervous standin’ s-s-still.’
    We went en masse into Kåre’s dark shop,
Kåres Tobakk,
and it smelt strange inside, of fruit, smoke, sweat, chocolate and liquorice. And we knew that under the counter there were copies of
Cocktail
and
Kriminaljournalen
, but it wasn’t a thrill any longer, not after Gunnar’s brother’s magazine, something had been lost, a shame in a way.
    Kåre appeared out of the dark, his good-natured boxer’s face with a harelip, and I think he recognised us from the previous year.
    ‘Sub?’ he asked.
    We nodded and each of us put ten kroner on the counter, he fetched four cards and we dictated our names.
    ‘Born in 51,’ Kåre mumbled. ‘Boys’ team then this year.’
    ‘Have lots of people signed up?’ John asked.
    ‘We’ve got good teams at all levels,’ Kåre smiled.
    ‘How’s F-Frigg d-doin’ in the t-top league then?’ Ringo wanted to know.
    ‘We’ll win,’ Kåre said with conviction.
    ‘And we beat Thailand s-s-six nil, didn’t we,’ Ringo added with enthusiasm. He couldn’t get over it.
    ‘Training starts on Tuesday,’ Kåre said. ‘Five o’clock on the Frigg ground.’
    ‘Will there be a trip to Denmark this year?’ George wondered.
    ‘Reckon so. Train hard and you can go, too.’
    We were given our membership cards, split a Coke, but didn’t dare buy cigarettes because Kåre might not have liked Frigg boys smoking, and none of us wanted to miss out on the Denmark trip.
    Back on the street, Ringo looked at John and whispered:
    ‘What did you do with the m-m-mag?’
    ‘Chucked it,’ John answered.
    ‘You’ve ch-ch-chucked it!’
    ‘Yep.’
    And in fact we all breathed a sigh of relief, but Ringo would not give up.
    ‘What’ll your b-b-brother s-s-say, eh?’
    ‘My brother thinks it’s fine that I chucked it.’
    So we jumped on our bikes and flew down Theresesgate. The warm air sang in our ears and our screams of ‘I Feel Fine’ bounced off the house walls, and George shouted that the needle of his speedo was hovering on eighty, though you couldn’t always rely on it, but we were going fast and didn’t need to pedal until we came to Bogstadveien.
    ‘Not quite a month to May 17 now,’ John said.
    ‘Not long to the exams, either,’ George added.
    ‘Or to s-s-summer!’ Ringo shouted.
    We went quiet for a few moments because it was a bit strange to think about summer. After summer there was no guarantee we would be in the same class, or even the same school. But we had sworn allegiance to each other; nothing would part us and The Beatles would never split up.
     
    First of all, we ran around the pitch, then we did a bit of heading and afterwards we were divided into two teams, eight players in each. We were allowed to use the big goals the seniors and the Police College used, and the goalkeepers felt tiny between the sticks, they could not reach the crossbar however much they jumped. They looked like herrings in an enormous fishing net. John and I were put in the same team, he was centre half, I was right back. My opponent on the left wing was Ringo. George was a central defender and he didn’t look very comfortable when John went storming through like a tank sweeping away all the opposition. I stayed in my position and whacked balls to the midfield. George managed to stop John a couple of times, but I wondered whether John wasn’t giving him the ball so that we could all be in the same team. Towards the end of the game Ringo intercepted the ball and came roaring up thetouchline. When he was close enough he whispered, so that only I could hear:
    ‘L-l-lemme past! L-l-lemme past!’
    I held my position, legs apart, didn’t move from the spot, could easily let Ringo past because I had already made a few strong tackles and reckoned my