We make our way to the reception for the Airdrie players, where a delicious feast of meat pies, sourced from Thomas Lipton’s of Stobcross Street, is being devoured by the hungry players, washed down by an Extra Superior Porter, known nowadays as Extra Stout.
“This is from Dublin and is excellent. Thomas recommended it.”, I said.
“This will fill our stomachs and bring welcome relief to the Airdrie players.”, said David.
“When will the letter be ready?”
“I will draft the letter this weekend. I need to wordsmith the virtues of the association game and how they must alter their course from the rugby code.”
I looked down into the swirling glass of white froth, slowly disintegrating into the black porter beneath. “You know the name ‘Porter’ originates from the men who barrowed the kegs between the quays, warehouses and inns of London. These porters became synonymous with the stout, and their name has stuck ever since.
“And?”, asked David.
“Words are not enough. We need to go and show them and provide a public demonstration of why association football is for them.”
David sat back in his chair, “We’ll show them the future and ensure they become obsessed.”
“We will become the porters of the association game.”
“The way forward.”, we both chorused in unison, thumping our tankards together.