WLKRAS

Superb stuff, ED

Let's try and get this going again. Might not be at the same pace as before, but things have slowed down a bit, so hopefully we can get this going on the regular again. I left the dressing room and went out to face the the press. Their mood seemed more subdued, but that suited me just fine. “A better day for you today” observed Boswell, the old BBC guy. “I think that’s fair to say. We still haven’t ironed out all the mistakes, but it was a much better performance. Topped off by a magnificent goal from Feathers” I responded before taking a question from one of the local Southend guys. “Codjovi really made a difference with his pace when he came on. Will we be seeing him getting a starting position soon?” “If he trains well, there’s every chance he’s going to get games. The schedule is busy enough and with his ability to play either side, it’s nice to has options. Although the downside is, we had to lose Hastie to injury to bring him on, so our options won’t be as expansive for a few weeks anyway” “Is it that serious? It looked like a dead leg to me?” Alice Newman piped up from the front of the gaggle. “Look, I’m no medical expert, so I’m not going to give a verdict and Danny, our physio, was still treating him when I left to come to speak to you guys. We’ll put out an update when we have one” Newman brought the questions back to Codjovi next. “Are you at all concerned with the fact that signing Codjovi is going to put you over budget wages wise? Will players have to be sold?” “It is a concern yes. Probably more for the chairman than myself, but obviously it’s not ideal, especially with the club not being in a great position financially anyway. But my job is to win games and deliver on the pitch and I need resources to do that. And as always, we’re open to fair offers for any players, but they have to be fair. We’re not selling for the sake of it.” With that, I ended the mini-press conference and the group fo journo’s were off to write their reports. I got the final verdict on Hastie on the bus home. “It looked like just a knock at first, but I think he’s pulled something as he’s collided or gone down. He’s gonna need a couple of weeks to recover” O’Connor told me leaning down from the aisle into my front row seat. He glanced down the bus where most players were lost in their phones, headphones on their ears. Despite a three-nil away win, the bus was quiet. “Was it like this in your days? When you’d won away?” O’Connor asked. “You’re making me feel old. In my days…” I chuckled. “But no, we’d have a game of two or cards on the go, everyone chatting away to each other. Game’s different now I guess”

Still following along and it's still superb. KUTGW

Made the final five, not bad

Hey everyone. Just a short message to let you know I'm going to have to put this on hold for a little while. I've got some personal stuff going on, on top of which FM is currently refusing to load up at all. Planning to get back to it at some point, but I currently don't have the mental energy to fight to get the game running again. Catch you all in a little while - WLKRAS 19th of August, 2023 Roots Hall, Southend Southend United (24th) vs Hartlepool United (19th) (Vanarama National League) The news came Friday morning, just in time to meet the registration deadline. Codjovi was joining Pools and would be on the bench for the long trek to Southend. Other than that, it was a fairly standard lineup for us. Dixon in goal, Hendrie, Lacey, Pruti and captain Ferguson made up the back line, Cooke and Crawford in midfield with Mancini on the tip of the triangle, with Hastie and Ndjoli on the wings and Mani Dieseruvwe up top. “Look, we all want the proverbial monkey off our backs. We’ve lacked a bit of luck, but we’re better than 19th” I looked around the dressing room at some determined faces, they knew I was right. ”So. We’ve got the perfect opportunity to grab that first win here today and get back into form. Southend are struggling even worse than us, both on and off the field. Let’s make sure we compound that misery. I want you to press them, harry them, don’t give them time to think” The message hit home. Southend kicked off, but our boys were all over them straight away. It was a gamble because with games coming thick and fast, the constant pressure would wear our players out. But it was worth it to break our slump. We did the pressing part well, gaining plenty of turnovers in the first few minutes, but our passing was sloppy, so it didn’t really help us. Six minutes into the game, Dieseruvwe collected a forward pass and laid it off out to the left where Ndjoli was making a run. The winger ran onto it, took it past his man and pulled it back to the edge of the area where Mancini was arriving. The attacking midfielder was presented with an easy finish and he duly obliged for an early lead. It almost seemed as if the team thought the job was done and they retreated into their shell a bit, the pressing slacking and the passing remaining sub-par. Southend immediately hit back, forcing a corner a few minutes later. It was swung into the centre of the area where Cardwell rose but headed it off the post and out of play. A warning for sure and it at least had the effect of waking the players up. Southend piled on the pressure, but the determination was back among the players, with Ferguson throwing his body into the fray to block a shot from Wood and Lacey making a key tackle to win the ball back from the resulting corner. We played it neatly out of the defence, but Hastie lost it going forward and Southend were straight back at us, ending a move with Wood firing at goal, but Dixon being equal to it. Sweeney got up on his feet and hollered some home truths about the team’s passing then sat back down rather sheepishly as if he’d forgotten who was in charge. I just grinned in response. In any case, his dressing down seemed to have worked as we tightened up our play and Cooke gathered the ball up in midfield to play a slide rule pass between the two centre-backs for Dieseruvwe to run onto. He took a touch, but it was slightly too heavy and it allowed the Southend goalkeeper enough time to dive in and gather the ball off his feet. A minute later, it was a near-carbon copy, except this time Dieseruvwe’s touch was better and he fired a shot past the goalkeeper. Unfortunately, it was also wide of the goal, but we had reasserted our superiority and Southend were subdued for the remainder of the half. “Keep your focus lads. We’re on top, but we have to cut out the mistakes, we don’t want to let these guys back into the game. Grab a second early and they’ll deflate like a balloon” I urged the players at the break. They nodded in agreement. Goodlad chipped in with some observations of his own, mainly remarking on the opposition's apparent weakness in the centre of defence. We restarted after the break, but it was Southend who got out of the blocks the best. A low cross in from the left came off Pruti, but only as far as Cardwell who hammered a shot at goal. Fortunately, Dixon was equal to it and managed to push it wide of the post, but the warning had been sent. I got up off the bench to try and focus the players with some gentle encouragement. Dixon lumped a ball forward for Mani Dieseruvwe, not my preferred method of distribution, but I let it go. Mani headed it out right for Hastie to run on to. He got to the ball first, but a defender came charging in and bundled our winger to the floor. He got away with it, but Hastie stayed down on the turf clutching his thigh. He’d taken a knee to the upper leg and was in no state to continue. I called for the young Spanish winger Codjovi to replace him. Not much after, I also brought on Featherstone for a tiring Crawford and the veteran quickly picked up on Codjovi’s pace advantage over most of the opposition. In the 63rd minute, Featherstone fed Codjovi around the halfway line and the youngster set off on a great run, dipping inside and out, beating two defenders before sending a forward pass for Dieseruvwe. Our target man smashed it into the net with ease. But it was so easy because he’d strayed beyond the defence into an offside position. It only took another minute, but we did get our second. Ferguson fed a low cross in on the overlap and Mancini was left with an easy sidefoot finish to double our margin. I brought Dolan for Pruti in defence, hoping his fresh legs would help see out the game, but it wasn’t really necessary. With twenty minutes left to go, Featherstone picked up the ball in the centre of the pitch, about twenty-five yards out. He took a look at goal, steadied himself and fired an incredible thunderbolt off the outside of his right boot. It swerved away from the goalkeeper and nestled sweetly into the top corner. The away support erupted in jubilation as did our bench. The players on the pitch were mobbing Featherstone near the corner flag. Three games worth of frustration came out from everyone and the elation was palpable. Of course, there was still twenty minutes to play and we’d given away good positions before. Just six minutes later, Cardwell put the cat among the pigeons. Their right winger skipped past a tiring Ferguson and flung in a cross. Cardwell connected and thumped it into the net, but the referee adjudged he’d pushed Lacey to get leverage and ruled it out for a foul, much to our relief. We saw the rest of the game out easily enough. Back in the dressing room, I tried to temper my enthusiasm somewhat. ”Well done everyone, that was good. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, that was a game we should have won regardless. There’s going to be a much bigger test next week when we face Fylde. So enjoy today, but I want more like this next week” Final Score Southend United 0 Hartlepool United 3 (Mancini 6, 64, Featherstone 70)

Hartlepool Mail Thursday, 17th of August, 2023 From our reporter Browne clashes with journalists as reign gets off to a shaky start New Hartlepool manager Chris Browne verbally clashed with journalists during his latest press conference on Tuesday. With only one point from three games, Browne’s reign has got off to a shaky start and the manager already seems to be feeling the heat, with nothing less than promotion expected for Pools this season. Browne took offence at questioning from one journalist suggesting his relationship with chairman Raj Singh was ‘strained’, accusing the questioner of ‘making up gossip’. Despite Browne’s protestations, the normally outspoken Singh has been remarkably quiet of late. Meanwhile, sources within the club confirm that there is a definite strife between the manager and those in charge, with Director of Football Joe Monks making appointments to the academy staff without consulting with the manager. The finances around the club remain insecure with Singh looking hard for a buyer to offload the club onto. But the issues aren’t only off the pitch for Browne. With only a point to their name after an opening day draw at Barnet, Pools have lost two home games in quick succession, giving away an early lead both times, despite being in control and having the better chances. So far, Browne has insisted on a possession-based game and while Pools have looked very good when it comes off, there have been too many chances and goals conceded for the team to be carrying on in this manner. That said, Saturday’s game against bottom-of-the-table Southend should be a good opportunity to get points on the board. Much like Pools, Southend have started with only one point from three, but having been in administration, they started the season with a ten-point deduction, leaving them rooted to the bottom for the time being. I threw the paper down onto my desk with a sigh and picked up the phone to ring Howell to find out who covered us for the local paper. None of their journalists had been at any of my press conferences, so it surprised me to find them writing about what had happened after the Maidenhead game. The paper was right about one thing though, Southend was a must-win game. According to Avins scout report, they played football in a similar manner to us, getting it down and trying to play a passing game. It would be a good opportunity for us to show what we could really do when we put our minds to it. Hopefully, we’d have a new face in the squad for that. Amilcar Djau Codjovi, the twenty-one-year-old winger without a club, was considering the offer I’d made him on Wednesday morning. We had settled on a weekly wage that was more than I’d liked, but less than he’d asked for initially, so you win some and you lose some. We just had to wait for his final answer.

Bertrand thanked groundsman O’Hagen by buying him another beer and headed into the stands for the game. It wasn’t great if you were a Bromsgrove fan, but plenty of excitement for the neutral. In a game that featured 29 attempts at goal, the visitors from Coalville walked away with a 4-1 victory. Bromsgrove’s misery was compounded by the late sending off of midfielder Billy Shaw after a crunching tackle and some subsequent argy-bargy. Bertrand approached the kid on his laptop after the game. He was furiously typing away but agreed to pause for a moment when Bertrand introduced himself and asked him what he knew about Chris Browne. The kid introduced himself as Max Banner. “In fairness, I know very little. My older brother Kevin is the one who could tell you better than me. But he always spoke highly of him” he admitted. Then, as if an idea had struck him, his face lit up and he dug out his phone. “Let’s call him!” he said excitedly. He dialled a number, put the speakerphone on and placed the phone between the pair on the table. “What’s up Bro” said the voice on the other end. “Hey Kev, I’ve got a guy here who’s investigating Chris Browne, you wanna answer some questions for him?” “Do I have to?” the voice on the other end was grumpy. “Let me assure you I’m not a journalist, Mr Banner. If that’s a concern. But I would very much appreciate your help” “Fine, shoot” Kevin said still reluctant. “What did you think of him? What was he like?” “He was determined to win and he could be a hardass. Tear strips of you if you didn’t play to the plan or weren’t what he considered professional. There was more than one occasion when I was the target, but in fairness, we were semi-pros. Even after three years of retirement, he was better than any of us in training. But he could be pleasant enough” “Did he have any trouble with anyone?” “Plenty of people. Worst kept secret in the club that him and Darren Grocutt didn’t get along, even if they tried not to show it in front of the players. Same for him and Mr Daniels. He had a beef with a few journalists too. I remember he punched one in the car park at one point, yet someone managed to make that go away. Think he had a tiff with the girl too. But they were both into each other. Didn’t need a degree to work that one out” “Is that why he hung out at the pub?” Max pitched in, much to Bertrand’s annoyance, although he was pleased after he heard the answer. “That and the fact that he liked a drink. Fairly sure he took training hungover more than once. But we all kinda turned a blind eye. Guy was the most hated man in football, but he knew what he was talking about on the pitch” “Do you think he did it?” Bertrand took over the questioning again. “Doesn’t matter what I think. Jury convicted him” Banner said, nervously. “If you had to pick one way or the other?” Bertrand insisted. “All I know is the guy was coaching here to redeem himself. And we were the bottom of the barrel at the time. He must’ve been desperate. I can’t see why someone so determined to do that would kill anyone, drunk or not. But what do I know?” Bertrand had thanked the Banner brothers and headed back to his hotel. He would have to speak to DI Rainford next.

You might want to have a read of the rules above and maybe consider moving this to say Career updates, as it doesn't really constitute a story.

“Yes, I’m sure the neutrals will have enjoyed it. Me, not so much” I growled in response to Alice Newman’s question about the game in the post-match press conference. “Where did it all go wrong today?” asked Abraham. “Too many mistakes, too many bad choices and not doing the simple things right. We had 71% of possession but ended up conceding four soft goals. That is unacceptable” I answered. I was in no mood for niceties and the players were going to know about it. “Does that mean we’re going to be seeing some changes for Southend at the weekend?” Newman put in. She didn’t seem impressed by Abraham stealing her line of questioning. “I’m not going to speculate on that just yet. A lot of that will depend on how the players apply themselves in training between now and Saturday” Newman tried another follow-up, but again, Abraham was eager to interrupt. “I understand the relationship between yourself and the chairman is already strained, do you think your slow start to the season could aggravate that?” “Robbie, I appreciate you work for a tabloid rag that insists on spreading gossip and hearsay as the gospels, but that’s not how we work around here” I fired back. I saw Newman crack a smile at that. Abraham tried a rebuttal, but Jacob Howell, the press officer, stepped in before things escalated further. He whispered in my ear as he marched me away from the microphones. “I wish you wouldn’t try to antagonise journalists. They’re only doing their job, asking the difficult questions” I looked the guy up and down. He was a good twenty years younger than me. He was trying, but failing to grow some stubble on his chin. “I don’t know what you’ve heard kid, but as far as I know, the chairman and I haven’t had a strained relationship. So maybe instead of telling me what I can and can’t do, maybe you should do your job and find out who is leaking this nonsense to Abraham” I scowled, leaving him behind. I returned to my office to find a note from Joe Monks on my desk. It told me Codjovi would be arriving for contract talks on Wednesday morning. The young winger was very interested in joining Hartlepool and was hopeful of swift negotiations. That brightened my mood somewhat. It wasn’t the only position we needed reinforcements in, but it was a start at least.

15th of August 2023 Suit Direct Stadium, Hartlepool Hartlepool United (17th) vs Maidenhead (18th) (Vanarama National League) My pre-season schedule had been tough on fitness in the hope of preparing the squad for the rigorous schedule of the National League. Unfortunately, it hadn’t quite worked out as planned just yet. We had a few players simply too tired after the Gateshead match to be starting again. Dixon kept his place in goal. Hendrie and Onariase kept their places in defence but were joined by Pruti and Paterson. Featherstone was alongside Crawford in midfield, with Mancini returning in the attacking midfielder role. Hastie moved to the left wing to replace the injured Ndjoli with Seaman taking over on the right. Umerah was the man up front. “We need to do better at home, guys. There’s no excuse really. We’ve had the chances in both our games so far, but we need to see games out and finish off the opposition. Let’s do that today” was my plea before the game. We started well after kick-off, stringing a few moves together and passing particularly well early on. The first real chance came about ten minutes in. Again it was a move full of one or two-touch passes, from Hendrie at right back, through to midfield to Hastie on the left wing. Alas, it fell to Hastie’s weaker left foot and his effort didn’t contain anywhere near enough power to trouble the Maidenhead goalkeeper. Four minutes later, we were at it again, this time down the right. Mancini found Seaman who showed a clean set of heels to the left back before pulling back a low cross for Crawford. The midfielder ghosted one way before jinking the other. All defender De Havilland could do was bring him down. The referee had no hesitation in pointing to the spot. Featherstone shouldered the responsibility and slotted home easily from twelve yards to put us 1-0 ahead.. Maidenhead tried to strike back immediately with a long ball for Zimba, their lone striker, but Dixon was alert and snuffed out the danger. He was called into action again just seconds later when Onariase immediately lost the ball he’d received and Smith fired from close range. Somehow, Dixon was equal too it, tipping it wide and also claiming the subsequent corner with ease. But the guests kept coming. On the half hour, Seaman floated a cross into the area, which was easily gathered by Ross in the Maidenhead goal. Despite Avins’ warning in the scout report I had failed to prepare properly for what was to come next. Ross booted it upfield for Mitchell-Lawson, who skipped past his defender and played in Smith. The attacking midfielder was left with an easy finish and converted without much hesitation to level the game. And it got worse. Three minutes later, Hendrie in our right-back position was caught in possession by Mitchell-Lawson around the halfway line. With another lightning counter through Zimba and Smith, the latter was left with another simple finish. I was raging on the touchline and I made my feelings known to the players. In fairness, I was probably partially to blame for not properly preparing for the possibility of such rapid counters. “Settle down boss, those outbursts aren’t going to improve matters” offered Goodlad beside me. I’m not sure if he was right or wrong, but my rant seemed to have an immediate effect with Paterson forcing a corner, which was just headed wide by Hendrie. Three minutes after Maidenhead took the lead, we were back level again. Hastie dribbled down the left with purpose, passing past one, then two defenders before drifting in a cross towards the centre. Umerah had peeled off towards the near post, taking two defenders with him and leaving an acre of space for Mancini to arrive in. He put his head through the ball and thumped it into the net. Goodlad got up and shouted some encouragement, but his shouts fell on deaf ears as Maidenhead nearly made it 2-3. It was another cross from Mitchell-Lawson, who had caused us no end of trouble, finding the head of Zimba. He put his header past Dixon, but to his agony (and our relief) saw the ball bounce back off the post and hacked away by Pruti. We made it to the break with scores still level, but there were a few tired legs and weary heads in our dressing room. Both Goodlad and Sweeney did their best to motivate the players again while physio O’Connor was busy massaging a few of the tired legs. I decided to keep it simple. “Come on lads, we need to keep at them. Tighten up at the back and make sure we keep the ball. They can’t score without it” The second half got off to a lethargic start from both sides. It appears Maidenhead were in no better shape than we were, but with thirteen minutes gone in the second period, the game kicked into life again. Zimba was driving forward down the left, but Onariase was doing a good job covering him. He even managed to knock the ball away from the striker’s feet with an assertive tackle, but he couldn’t control it and it rolled straight into the path of Kinsella. The left-back swung in a cross towards the back post where Mitchell-Lawson was completely unmarked with Paterson marking clear air in the centre of the pitch. Maidenhead’s right wigner didn’t need any more encouragement and slotted the ball past Dixon to restore the guests’ lead. I immediately went to my bench and decided to throw caution to the wind. The team got shunted about a bit, with Hendrie, Onariase and Crawford coming off for Burton, Cooke and Dieseruvwe. We gave up on having a left winger and shunted Dieseruvwe up front with Umerah, with Hastie moving to right-wing and Seaman dropping back into the right-back role abandoned by Hendrie. It didn’t do us much good. Burton struggled to meet the pace of the game and his lax pass nearly led to a Maidenhead fourth, only denied by the alertness of Dixon in our goal. With us pushing forward, there was always going to be space for Maidenhead to seal their victory and they did just that with fifteen minutes left in the game. Kinsella was allowed to freely march through midfield, Mancini only belatedly picking up a half-hearted defence. By then, Kinsella had already spotted substitute Sho-Silva approaching the back post and slid in a low ball for the winger to turn in. 2-4 for the visitors and a groan from the home crowd. We mounted a late assault and pulled one back five minutes later. Seaman took a throw and got it back again from Hastie, before floating in a cross for Mani Dieseruvwe. The big striker outmuscles his two attending defenders and nodded home. And we came again, a good passing move through the middle moving through Dieseruvwe, into Hastie and then to Umerah who’d moved into the area. The striker smashed it first time, hitting it off the frame of the goal and bulging the net. The crowd went wild at our late fortune. But then the whistle went. The flag on the far side was up, Umerah had strayed just beyond the defence and the goal wouldn’t stand. We’d had seventy-one percent of possession and five shots more than Maidenhead, but the only statistic that mattered we’d lost 3-4. Final Score Hartlepool United 3 (Featherstone (pen) 15, Mancini 36, Dieseruvwe 80) Maidenhead 4 (Smith 30, 33, Mitchell-Lawson 59, Sho-Silva 75) Attd: 4218

Victoria Ground, Bromsgrove Tuesday evening Bertrand headed to the ground, hoping to get there early and catching up with some people who may have known more about what happened at the time. He entered the clubhouse, which was still pretty empty, but there were a few people milling about. One of them was a kid in his twenties, busily typing away at a laptop. He had papers spread all around him on the table. He almost seemed like a reporter, apart from the fact that he was wearing a Bromsgrove scarf draped loosely around his neck. Bertrand was just about to walk up to him when an older man entered the room and walked up to the bar as he called out to the kid. “Gaffer’s here, Max, if you wanna do your pre-match” his voice was gravelly like he smoked twenty cigarettes a day and drank a bottle of Scotch to go with it. His hair was white and dishevelled. He asked the bartender for a pint. “All done, Dan?” asked the bartender as he put a pint down on the bar. “Pitch’s as good as it’s gonna get” he nodded. Bertrand surmised that he must be the groundsman and decided to sit down beside the guy. “Excuse me, sir” he said. “You look like you’ve been around this club a while. Were you here when Chris Browne…” The groundsman held up his hand and cut him off. “Y’ere not a reporter, are ye? Ye don’t look like one” “No sir, My name is Bertrand Nelson-Reed and I’m an investigator of sorts. I’ve been hired to do some professional background on Mr Browne’s time here, nothing for the media, I can assure you” Bertrand said, extending his hand, which the old guy took and shook. “Dan O’Hagen. I were here when Chris was, aye. Compared my pitch to a cow’s field, he did!” the latter part was said in mock outrage. “Truth be told, it wasn’t far off in those days” “What was he like to work with? What sort of person was he?” “Realistic. He was used to far better facilities, obviously, but he did what he could with what he had. He was nice enough to me, but he could be… brooding at times, I guess. Suppose he had his demons…” the latter part was spoken at almost a whisper. “What do you mean, demons?” “I think he drank. There were times he stomped about like a bear with a sore head. Suppose that’s how he met the girl in the pub” “Were you surprised he joined the club in the first place?” Bertrand asked, ignoring the latter part of the sentence for nwo. “Well, yeah, I suppose so. Everyone had expected Darren to get the job, but the chairman jumped at the chance to get a big name through the doors. I think he was expecting people to come and shout abuse at the guy, after what happened before, but there was very little of that really. And he did a grand job with the team he had” “Darren being Darren Grocutt, I take it? Presume he was none too happy about being passed over” “Both Darren and Steve Daniels, the Director of Football, were fuming at it. They were best mates, both had been at the club for ages and they took it personal. Grocutt was forever stalking about like someone had killed his cat. And I think Daniels and Browne had a big argument at one point, but I’m not sure what that was about. In any case, they got their wish eventually anyway, when you know…” he let his gravelly voice trail off. “Did you know the girl?” “Nah, she worked in the pub, but that’s about all. Although I seem to remember there was a kerfuffle with her and Daniels a few years before Browne turned up. I don’t remember the details to be honest” “This is going to be a strange question, but did you ever notice anyone hanging around the ground. Maybe wearing a hat and a raincoat?” “Bloody hell, there’s a question” he laughed. “Nothing immediately springs to mind, but it’s like fourteen years ago. Why do you ask?” “Something I came across somewhere else. I’m wondering if there may have been an accomplice.” O’Hagen laughed at that notion. “Anyone else still around who knew him?” Bertrand said hopefully. “Not really. You can try talking to Max, the kid who does the website and social media and what not. His brother played for the team when Browne was in charge. Daniels comes in now and then, but I don’t think you’ll get much from him, his mind is going. He’s got dementia I think”

We didn’t have much time to prepare for the next game as we’d be facing Maidenhead at home in midweek. Avins came to deliver the scouting report in person Monday morning. He plonked the thin folder on my desk. “All in there, boss. They tend to play on the counter, so I imagine we’ll have plenty of the ball” was his brief summary before leaving. Despite being a decent scout and coming across pretty well in his interview, his social skills seemed somewhat lacking. Fortunately, scouting was pretty solitary business. I also managed to navigate my encounter with the local press pack that I had dubbed the ‘drab four’. Jordan Knight from the Chronicle, Alice Newman from the Northern Echo, Derek Boswell from BBC Tees and of course Robbie Abraham. Their focus seemed to be less on the game we’d just played, or were about to play and more on various transfer rumours. That was easy enough, since there was still no money available, we’d have to be looking at players that were available on a free. With Pett and Aarons leaving after we couldn’t meet their demands, Monks had put me onto a young Spaniard. Amilcar Djau Codjovi was a twenty-one-year-old winger, who could play on either side of the pitch and he was quick. Like lightning quick. Monks had managed to dig up a video of the kid when he was Morecambe and it demonstrated just how fast he was. It always showed he wasn’t afraid to put himself into challenges and he worked hard. He’d drifted about various clubs, but never got his career off the ground. I asked Monks to feel him out about joining us. As it was, we would need him sooner rather than later. Our regular left winger Ndjoli had collided in training with Paterson, which left him with a nasty bruise on his thigh. O’Connor was quick with his verdict. “I mean, he could play if you really needed him too, but I’d strongly advise against it. He could aggravate it and then he’d miss the game at the weekend against Southend as well.” It would mean a start for Max Storey on the left or on-loan Charlie Seaman on the right with Hastie moving over to the left. I spent most of the evening mulling it over…

That last line feels very "Tell Cersei I want her to know it was me"

13th of August, 2023 Hop Pole Inn, Bromsgrove Bertrand Nelson-Reed nosed his Daimler into the car park outside the Hop Pole Inn. The pub was just a stone’s throw away from the Victoria Ground, formerly of Bromsgrove Rovers, now home to the Phoenix club Bromsgrove Sporting. Evelyn Scott had worked at the pub according to the files he had received from DI Rainsford and there were several mentions of Browne frequenting the pub on occasion. Considering the team he managed wasso nearby, Bertrand wasn’t surprised. He avoided the pair of potholes in the car park and found a space before going inside. It was about three o’clock just between the Sunday lunch crowd having left and the Sunday dinner ones turning up, so the bar was relatively quiet. There was a football game on the TV, which seemed to have the attention of the few patrons that remained. Bertrand made his way to the bar and ordered a pint of bitter from the typical hipster bartender in his middle thirties. He had a bushy beard, a nose ring and several rings in both ears. He was wearing one of the ‘lumberjack’ shirts with the sleeves rolled up, showing a mass of tattoos on both arms. Bertrand was appalled. Young people these days… “Thank you, good sir” he said as the bartender placed his pint in front of him and he tapped his card against the reader. “Y’er not a lowcal, arr ya” drawled the bartender with a heavy Black Country accent, while looking Bertrand up and down. “Very astute of you, my friend” Bertrand began, but the bartender cut him off. “Y’er not one of them murder tourists, arr ya?” “I beg you pardon, murder tourists?” Bertrand, feigning confusion. He had already clocked the picture tribute on the wall behind the bar. The bartender began to explain the history, while Bertrand pretended to be politely interested “So the girl who worked here was murdered by the manager of the local football team? My God, how awful. Did you know her?” “As a matt’r a fact, I did. I’d been working ‘ere since that summer. She were a lovely lass, tough but fair. I never liked tha’ manager fella. He came in ‘ere on occasion, always leering at her" “You think that’s why he killed her?” Bertrand asked off-handedly, putting his empty glass on the bar and motioning for another. The bartender shrugged as he pulled another pint. “Ah, I don’t know. Ne’er knew the bloke much” “Know anyone who would?” Bertrand asked, sliding a crisp twenty-pound note across the bar with a knowing look. The bartender stared at him for a second, then broke into a grin. “Y’ere a clever one. Only place where they might know would be the club” he said, nodding in the direction of the door. Bertrand left him the twenty and took his pint Bertrand had tried, in vain, to see someone at the club after leaving the Hop Pole Inn. The place had been shut up pretty tight and a passing dog walker eventually told him unless there was a game, he had no chance. As fortune would have it, a nearby sign announced Sporting’s next home game as Tuesday the 15th, facing a team called Coalville Town. So Bertrand booked himself into the local Premier Inn and began to learn as much as he could about the Bromsgrove Rovers team Chris Browne had managed back in the day. The chairman at the time had been a Robert Martin, who had been struggling to keep the club afloat. Because of that, Browne’s tenure had actually started with a ten-point deduction. But eventually, Martin’s building company collapsed as a result of the financial crisis and with it went Bromsgrove. There had been a brief attempt by Director of Football Steve Daniels to try and carry on, but he too was unable to keep the club afloat. Martin had moved to the US, but Daniels was still listed as living in the area. Browne’s former assistant, Darren Grocutt, had taken over after his arrest and seen out the season, even staying on for the brief period that Daniels was in charge before relocating to the Far East and now managing a team in Thaland’s lower leagues. Bertrand also managed to find information on a coach named Alex Watson, appointed by Browne in his first few weeks, who left again when Grocutt took over. But he had no further luck managing to track that guy down, the name being too common to be of much use.

I’d fallen hard against the wall and stone steps and it took me a second to get my breath back. It was the same for the person who had run into me. She was bent over, hands on her legs and breathing heavily. She shot me a sideways glance. “Sorry... I was lost… in my music…” she panted and then she stopped when we recognised each other. “Jessica?” “You’re the guy from the gym... The coach... We gotta stop meeting like this…” she righted herself and looked around for her headset which had fallen a short distance away. She walked over and picked it up as I dusted myself off and got to my feet. “I’m sorry. You ok?” she asked, returning with the headset. “I’ll be alright. Us old-timers don’t bounce as well as you young ‘uns” I chuckled. That drew a smile from her too. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I’m probably older than you think” she observed. That gave me pause. Mentally, I’d put her a couple of years older than Ellie, 33 or 34 maybe. I just stared for a second, trying to take it in, but she beat me too it. “Forty-one” she said, with a confident laugh. The look on my face told her all she needed to know. “Yeah, I get that a lot” she added. She looked out to the sea and the sky with all of its oranges and pinks. I followed her gaze. “Pretty, isn’t it? It’s why I like to run here on an evening while I can.” “Helluva view. Good for the soul” I agreed. “See, that’s what I tell people, but they never believe me” she said, “Anyway I need to get back before it gets dark. Sorry again. Hope you’re not too bruised” she added. “Find out in the morning, I guess.” I replied as she started to walk off. She was about to put her headset back on when I called out after her. “Don’t forget, those tickets are ready for you and your boy whenever” She smiled and waved by way of reply as she jogged off again.