The Second Floor | Top Three (64.01)

[mragland]

8.23.2063 – Richmond upon Thames, Greater London

The black hired car glided east on Warren Road, which had been Nelson Road a couple blocks back, and would turn into Kneller Road, and then Whitton Road as they journeyed from Heathrow to the ball field. It was all the same damn road as far as Grant could tell, 'why did it change names half a dozen times?' he thought.

Grant was fighting a losing, internal battle to tamp down a sour mood that had been slowly growing pretty much since the Monarchs took the big swing and traded for Blair Peyton. Making up a seven game deficit in the wildcard standings in two months was not an impossible task, and Peyton looked like a player who had the juice to help move the club forward. Alas, it did not work out that way. Pretty much from the jump, the lineup (Peyton included) began regressing in August, and the Monarchs had all but fully faded from the playoff race. Even securing a winning record no longer seemed like the safe bet it was a couple of weeks ago. It was a bitter pill, and Grant felt that it reflected negatively on his ability to run the club. How could it not?

The task immediately in front of Grant today, however, hit even closer to home. The kids had finally arrived from the states (it was their idea to go directly from the airport to the stadium). It was the first time either had expressed an interest in what Grant did for a living (in fairness, as a writer, he mostly just stared at a computer screen). Jenny had a couple of weeks to settle in when it was just the two of them, and she was able to work out her route to work in Nine Elms (about forty minutes, door to door, on good days). And now the four of them, finally together, rode through Twickenham.

Jack (age fourteen) was the first to notice the giant stadium coming into view. “Is that really where you work?” he asked Grant.

Grant chuckled. “No, that's Twickenham Stadium. They use it mostly for international rugby and the odd NFL game, back in the day. Our park is a good deal smaller than that. We're in the Old Stoop, officially it's called London Stadium.”

The car turned off of Whitton Road a short time later and a much lower profile edifice came into view, not half so prepossessing as the one behind them.

“That's it there,” said Grant.

“Two sports stadiums that close together seems wasteful,” said Becky (age sixteen).

“Three, actually,” said Grant. “Harlequins play in the New Stoop, just the other side of those trees there.”

“Two rugby stadiums, like, a quarter of a mile apart?” said Becky, incredulous now.

“Yeah,” Grant continued. “The rugby club was building a new stadium and the Monarchs owner got a good deal on the old one. Even with the renovations he saved a bundle and a lot of potential hassle in the permit process by building on land that already had a stadium on it. We like to say that we're easily in the top three of sports complexes in Twickenham.” Grant turned to face the back seat. “Do you want to see the inside?”