Story Of An Aspiring Manager - From Unemployment To Glory

July 9th 2005.

Hello diary! Well I'm very excited, I don't know about you? Suppose you can only get as excited as the words I write in here eh. In which case this opening paragraph was pretty crap. What's that? Oh yeah, you're not a real person. Sorry.

Well here it is, day one of a new start. My first steps to becoming a millionaire and idolised by thousands of millions (maybe) of people around the world. I'm on the road to becoming a football club manager.

It's taken me 3 years to get my coaching badges (I finished in the top 5 out of our group, which is well good!) and I've sent off my CV to UEFA. They returned it back saying they don't deal with CV's but after some perseverance they told me where to send it. I assume they mean my CV otherwise it was rather rude.

I'm sitting here by my telephone waiting for a call now. It's almost the start of the new season so someone is bound to need a manager. And one that finished top 5 in their coaching class at that. (Side note: my mate Steve has taken on a coaching role at Clyde. Hahaha, what a muppet! We're having a race to see who earns more than the other at the end of this season. I'll obviously be higher up than him. I'll keep you posted on his progress too).

Tasks for today:<UL TYPE=SQUARE>

<LI>Send CV to UEFA (again!)

<LI>Defrost the freezer (can't shut the drawers without them making a horrible scraping noise against the ice. THIS IS URGENT!)

<LI>Catch up on EastEnders.

13th July 2005.

The Champions League qualifiers have just started. Wish I was there. Next season Dave! Looking at the teams the only one I'd realistically manage is Liverpool. The rest are pretty rubbish. Glentoran? That's a whisky isn't it?

It's been a week now. I'm assuming UEFA have faxed my CV to all it's member clubs. I checked the UEFA website and noticed that they cover 32 nations. Fook that! I've taken out a year's lease on this flat so can't move very far. Certainly not to Latvia. Ideally I'd probably look at managing Inverness Caledonian Thistle or Aberdeen. Any further afield costs a lot in petrol.

28th July 2005.

Almost a month now, so far nothing! I've looked at the clubs needing managers and a newly formed team called Inverness Metros are looking for one. I won't go for it though. Nah, you see, it's the Scottish Third Division and teams starting off their rarely have any money. I need money for my team. I'll email UEFA later on and see what's going on. The domestic season is starting very soon and I need to be in place before then to stand a chance of getting my team promoted (or winning the Premier League, depending on the team that comes for me).

Margaret next door baked me a cake to congratulate me on getting my coaching licence. It's baked in the shape of a car, but it's the thought that counts. I binned it, tasted crap. Her husband Jeff coaches the local school's under-12's. He joked that if nothing comes up soon I can always come along and put out the cones. Cheeky b****rd. I've a good mind to sh*t in his letterbox. But I won't. Not after he caught me last time.

20th August 2005.

Popped along to the under-12's training with Jeff as had nothing better to do in all honesty. In fact I haven't been out of the flat in about a week, I've started rationing food so it's lasting longer, money is getting a wee bit tight and I might need to dip into my savings soon. Was going to use it for signing-on fee's if we wanted a big name player, I've been saving for 5 years now, almost a grand in the bank.

I stood with the parents on the touchline as the training went under way. In the afternoon there was a game on so I thought I'd stay for that too. A number of fathers asked who I was as they hadn't seen me before. I told them I was a club manager and just came along to have a look at what was going on. They were impressed that a manager went along in person and not his scouts. I shrugged as if to say “it's no troubleâ€. I think they bought it. I felt quite important.

The game itself was pretty poor. It was like watching Highland League football, I made a mental note not to sign any of these lads when they get a bit older as they were p*ss-poor. Anybody that skies a ball into a neighbouring field will never make it as a professional. I felt quite proud at taking my first managerial decision since getting my licence and to celebrate I went into town with Jeff and got p*ssed.

21st August 2005.

Dear god what have I done?! Checked my emails this morning and it appears that when I got in last night I applied for a job at River in Brazil. They are in the Brazilian 3rd division!!! I can't go there, I mean, what about my flowers, they need watered every day. And not to mention Brazil is a whole other country entirely. I can't speak Brazilian!

I spoke to Jeff and he said I was so drunk that he had to write and send the email for me. I was apparently adamant that I wanted to send it that night and got quite aggressive when he wouldn't do it for me. Oh god. God, god, god, god, god, GOD!

I checked the net to find out information on River, Google is goddam awful, it kept on returning results for River Plate, the Argentinian team. Jeff said he thought that's who he sent the email to. THANKS A LOT JEFF!!!!

7th September 2005.

No world from River yet thankfully. Hopefully they've got spam filters or something to block the email. hunglikeahorse@gmail.com shouldn't have any trouble getting blocked. Hmmm... that might explain why I've had no word from any clubs yet. Maybe they think it's a joke. I'll sign up another email address and try again. Ah well, looks like every cloud has a silver lining as they say.

At the under-12's training I had a father continuously bug me about his son. He wanted to know what club I was from and if his son had any chance at the game. I told him his son had more chance of scoring when he turned 16. Don't think he understood the joke and he instead passed on his phone number to my “secretaryâ€. Who, it turns out, was a single mother standing next to me.

Ran out of soap today, don't really want to dip into my savings so had to use a double dose of Lynx to mask the odour (hot water by itself doesn't cut it, and using toothpaste was just down-right weird, not doing that again).

If things don't pick up soon I might need to sign-on! (Don't worry, that's a joke).

19th September 2005

I f***ing signed on.

26th September 2005

Had a meeting at the Job Centre. According to them, you need to be actively seeking work to collect your dole money. I told them of my attempts to gain work over the last 2 months and they did seem impressed until they found out it was a managerial post at a football club. To them, it wasn't what constitutes a “real job†so I had to lower my standards. Assistant Manager wasn't acceptable either and I have no intention of finding myself below Steve's standards (who, by the way, is doing alright, but had to get a job at Tesco to help pay for his mortgage, such a loser.)

I've got another meeting in a months time to find out how I am doing, and I've got a selection of print-outs from this program they ran with me that is meant to find out jobs that suit my strengths. It's a load of b*ll*cks as “Club Manager†wasn't amongst any of the results. Was quite impressed that “Media Work†was there though. Opportunity to become a pundit for next years World Cup a la Gordon Strachan looks closer now.

Got an email titled “Are You A Football Manager?†today. I was all excited until I found out it was about a b****rd computer game from SEGA. I replied asking if they thought that was funny? Nothing back yet but I'll let you know if they email again.

1st November 2005.

I can't take this for much longer. It's closing on to almost half a year since I left my job and still no sign of a managerial post at a club. In a panic I randomly phoned up the first club that had sacked their manager that I noticed on the BBC website. Athlone Town. Where is that? Ireland or something? Bah, I just need a job really bad. Margaret next door took over cookies and I was almost tempted to eat them. Things have never been this bad before.

The chairman of Athlone Town asked me to send in my CV. I told him UEFA should have already forwarded it on. He laughed and asked if he was on Beadle's About. I told him I didn't know what that was, but would forward on my CV as it was obviously misplaced by his secretary.

Speaking of secretaries, the single mother and that father at the under-12's finally got together. I don't think either of them knows about the misunderstanding that brought them together but they seem happy enough. His son is now on the books at Aberdeen. Ha! More fool them!

I've asked Jeff if I could take part in the training some weekends. I might as well share my talents with the kids as it's clearly obvious that they need the training and more importantly it gives me exposure as someone that can work with kids. That's a plus point on my CV straight away.

I asked UEFA if it's possible to include that I finished in the top 5 in my class when I got my coaching licence on my CV. They said they don't deal with CV's (it was a woman that answered, I think she was new) and that as far as she knew, UEFA's licencing didn't have a points system and that is was just a pass or fail type of thing. I'm going to include it anyway, because I clearly remember being called a “top†man when I got my certificate, along with 4 other blokes. The others just got told “good workâ€. Including Steve!

Late entry: I applied to become manager of a team called Angers in France. I think I'll continue the theme of applying to clubs based on my current feelings for that particular day. Sexdrega in Sweden is next on the list. It's been a year.

16th November 2005.

My application to become the new manager of Angers was unsuccessful. They hired some French guy instead. A bit racist hiring somebody because of their nationality, and I let them know what I thought. They dismissed my accusations and thanked me again for applying. Smelly French tw*ts.

20th November 2005.

Applied for a job at SpVgg Greuther Fürth in Germany. More for a laugh than anything. In my email I asked if they could phone me back regarding my application. I want to know how to pronounce the name so I sound more intellectual when talking about clubs from other parts of the world. I hope they see the funny side.

Margaret and Jeff were very kind and lent me money to get some Christmas shopping done. They'll get paid back double when I finally land a job I told them, but Jeff said that it's fine, and that he felt he owed me something for taking the kids training session when he went on holiday to Tenerife a couple of weeks back. Does this technically count as me getting paid work as a footballing coach? I've put it down as a yes. Going to see Steve tomorrow to see how he's getting on, and if he's close to matching the £50 wages that I just got from Jeff. Bet he gets paid in peanuts at Clyde. Hahaha.

21st November 2005.

Steve called to say he couldn't meet me today. He's looking at getting a new car or something. I think he means downgrading his old model to something more affordable. Anyway, it means I can catch up on some sleep. By my way of thinking if I store up on lots of sleep before getting a job then I won't be as tired taking charge of a team. Much like how a camel stores water. Began to wonder if I would develop humps if I did this long enough. Wouldn't look good for interviews would it. Decided tonight is my last night of stocking up on sleep in case I start to become deformed.

26th November 2005.

SpVgg Greuther Fürth emailed me back (yes emailed!) to say my application was unsuccessful. Guess I'll never know how to pronounce it now. Bet it pronounced “Spyergen Gyergen†or something equally as daft.

Tasks for today:<UL TYPE=SQUARE>

<LI>Email another club that has no manager to see if they require my services.

<LI>Arrange another appointment for Job Centre.

<LI>Politely ask Margaret to stop baking me cakes.

Steve got the new Mondeo. Wonder how much his loan is as there is no chance he could afford it on the pittance he gets at Clyde.

20th December 2005.

I'm in a spot of desperation now. No sign of work, so I'm going to whore myself around as many clubs as I can to see if I can get a job. Just... anything! I need work! But only as a manager, to hell with coaching, it's too much hard work for little money.

In total I put my CV to 11 clubs, most in Europe although there was that one in Brazil that Jeff did for me. Still no word on them but I'll keep them as a possibility for now. All I want is a club for Christmas. Please, please, please... anyone? Santa?

I met up for the under-12's training before the schools break for Christmas today, I've been asked to take them officially as Jeff is retiring and his back has been playing up recently. I said I'd gladly help out but if a job comes along I'll have to leave immediately. I'm not getting paid for it unfortunately but as I've said before, it's exposure. I'm hopeful that a club scout can come along and we can network. Maybe get a manager post out of it? I can dream...

1st January 2006.

Here's to a new year, and hopefully a more prosperous one than the last. My resolutions in no particular order are:<UL TYPE=SQUARE>

<LI>Get a club manager job

<LI>See if I can wangle a pundits job for the World Cup (realistically local radio)

<LI>Earn more money than Steve before the season ends

<LI>Drink less

Three of those are definitely achievable this year, although the drinking one will be tough. Especially if my team are winning trophies all the time.

I spent my Hogmanay in town with people I didn't know. I couldn't afford a ticket to get into the more “high-brow†establishments so had to make do with the bar with only one toilet and feeling like I'm in a cattle market. I wish I had tits so I could flash the barman to get served. Was a nightmare. Not even drunk which maybe is a good thing in case I send off any more silly emails.

4th January 2006.

Happy Birthday to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Got a new pair of trainers, a notebook (handy for when I'm making notes on the touchline) and a warm jacket. Oh, and a f***ing cake from Margaret.

7th January 2006.

Really depressed today. Almost exactly 6 months since I started this diary which was meant to be an account of my rise to the top. This was to make it easier to write my autobiography as I know a lot happens in football so writing it all down certainly helps.

Although it helps even more if I had a club to write about. I really don't care where I end up now. UEFA aren't replying to any of my emails, maybe because of the holidays, maybe because I've annoyed them so often. I don't know what to do with myself anymore. Should I give up and look for a job away from football? Surely anything can be better than sitting around waiting for the phone to ring.

I got a score of 218 in Solitaire this morning by the way. Not bad.

22nd January 2006.

Graham Roberts got sacked as Clyde manager today. Immediately I threw my hat into the ring, and found out Steve had done the same. Really this is no contest and I'm feeling pretty damn confident of finally landing a job. Better start looking out for some houses round the area. Clyde – here I come!

26th January 2006.

Well the Clyde job never came off for myself or Steve, but guess what? I've been offered the mangers job of Farnborough Town!!! Yeah, I know, I can't believe it either. They've offered me a 3 year deal, at £180 a week, but I'm going to try and push for a bit more. After all, I'm one of the top 5 coaches in the country. I want no less than £250 a week, and obviously a bit more transfer money. I'm all excited now!!!!

This is it diary, this is the step to glory I've been waiting for!

27th January 2006.

You're looking at the new manager of Farnborough Town, worth a staggering £220 a week. This is such a thrill, to be finally involved at a high level in football and more importantly I'm earning twice as much as Steve is at Clyde.

There wasn't a press conference which was a bit disappointing but I did chat to a reporter for the local paper in which I told him what deal I was on (being careful not to mention my wage) and what my aim for the club was.

The chairman Tony Theo seemed a nice enough chap, although I'm not sure if that was his real name as I think he had a lisp. When we chatted he explained that my job was to secure the future of the club, to basically make sure we don't go bust. We're 4 points off the bottom of Conference South so we've to ensure relegation is avoided.

I feel like Superman.

28th January 2006.

My first game in charge was against league leaders Weymouth, one helluva challenge, and this was my first chance to prove just how much I had learnt at Largs when I earned my badges.

I had a tactic all set out in my head, one that I felt would be my standard for years to come and one that I wanted my players to fit into. If they didn't work in my tactic then they were out the door. This was my system and I'm sticking to it.

We won 1-0! I couldn't believe it, I really couldn't. Considering they had umpteen-million chances to our umm.... five. And our defending was atrocious, I really needed to sort that out. Besides all that, it was a win. And it was the perfect start to my managerial career.

Beat that Steve!

13th May 2006.

It's been such a great experience this season, and I've had to deal with the jubilation of clearing away from the relegation zone and pure just.... guttedness (check that's a word?) because we came within an ants pube of getting into the play-off's. In the end it wasn't to be but it didn't stop us from celebrating at the end of the campaign. Let's be honest, it's not exactly Chelsea, but Farnborough is a good a place as any to cut your managerial cloth.

I haven't started planning for next season yet. Although I do have a few players waiting to have contracts finalised before I prepare for a push for promotion next year.

There was an interview with the local radio station earlier in which he seemed to think that the fans were putting trust in me to push the club up through the division next year, which is always nice to hear. I made a mention of my top 5 placement being of obvious benefit to Farnborough just in case there was anyone listening that was looking for a manager. I don't plan on sticking around the lower divisions for long. Not after the brilliant start I've made:<UL TYPE=SQUARE>

<LI>Started 20th. Finished 11th.

<LI>Earnings for this year: £3,300 before tax.

<LI>Played 18, Won 9, Drawn 4, Lost 5.

<LI>Gained 5 pounds in weight, 10 more grey hairs noticeable.

Planning a trip home to Inverness over the summer now that the season is over. It's going to be funny heading back there now that I'm a celebrity. I'll probably get stopped in the streets and have women all over me. I wonder how Alex Ferguson deals with it. Maybe I should phone him and get some advice, lots of other managers do it and now I'm “one of them†perhaps I should start living the life a bit more.

I officially earned more money than Steve this season too. It didn't help that he was laid off last week because Clyde got relegated. So now he's no work at all (Tesco was temporary). I told him that when I negotiate my next contract I'll send him something to get him by.

It's the World Cup soon as well. I've given up on the whole pundit idea, the local radio down here said they couldn't afford to cover it. I did suggest maybe just have me describing what was happening on the TV but they waved that idea away. I bet it's because I'm Scottish. Snooty b****rds. Hope their c**try loses now. And yes that is an intentional spelling mistake! That being said, England is a lovely country to live in.

12th June 2006.

Back in Inverness now. Got a late train so that I wouldn't get harassed by people if it was busy. Guy in the taxi had Under Pressure by Queen on (the one with David Bowie). I thought it was quite a good song to have if they ever do a documentary about me. I don't mean Queen doing a documentary of course, I mean a TV company. Although Queen would be ace to do a soundtrack for it. And the revenue generated from an album release would be huge! Anyway... the documentary could have me setting off in my Porsche to work and then do a montage of me on the touchline looking stressed with that song playing. And at the end it shows a winning goal and me celebrating winning a trophy. It was a good idea, and I'm glad I've taken a note of it here so I can use it in future. I'll tell the production staff about it when they are doing the story boards.

Edit: Would “We Are The Champions†be too much? It's another Queen song but it would go well in another part of the documentary.

Popped in to see Jeff and Margaret. Both are doing fine. Jeff still goes along to watch the kids play football although obviously doesn't take part in the training any more. I asked him how the papers up here were portraying me but he said he hadn't noticed anything in the papers here although he was sure it was all nice things. Margaret said that Jeff only reads the Financial Times and the Sunday Sport. To be fair, if I was in any of those I'd be a bit worried (or curious) as to what they were writing about me.

Had a few beers and then popped into the flat to check for any mail. There was a lot. A few from the Job Centre asking me to make another appointment and another to say that since I hadn't come in to see them they had suspended my dole money. I did think about phoning them to complain but there isn't much point as I'll be earning enough to see me by soon enough anyway. Jeff said later that blind optimism isn't necessarily a good thing. I replied saying I'm just a naturally positive person who never thinks of the glass being half empty. Quick as a flash he says that there isn't any thinking on my part before the glass gets half empty. I think he was talking about alcohol. Oh Jeff, such a character.

19th June 2006.

Checked the papers and the internet to see if there was any news about me. I did find one thing which I've printed out and kept in a scrapbook of a small “News In Brief†article on the BBC Sport site that says:

“METROS Farnborough Town boss Murchison

secures signings of three youth players

from cashless Inverness sideâ€

How cool is that!! It linked to other stories about Metros saying that officials at the SFA were investigating something to do with their chairman and something about foreign donations of some sort. All looked a bit dodgy to me, so I'm very glad I stayed clear of offering myself to become manager of that club.

Phone call from the chairman Tony Theo (Seo?) to tell me that the club accountant has said that there will be no money for transfers for next season so we should look at getting the youth players to have some first team experience. We've to try and get mid-table again. I can't wait to see his face in May when we win the league.

19th July 2006.

Getting set for the new season back in Farnborough now. Had a look at getting a flat down in the area but also took out a new lease on the one back home. Now that I'm a manager I'm really supposed to have two homes. It's quite expensive down here so at Christmas if we're doing well I'll probably ask for a new contract so I can afford something a bit better than what I can currently get.

Signed a few more Metros lads. Seems that they're the only players willing to sign for me. Not complaining though, they seem to know their stuff.

I asked Steve if he fancied coming down here to coach at the club. I took pity on him. His wife recently left him, and he's had to sell his house as he can't get any well paid work in Clyde. He said he'll think about it, and asked if there was any fit women down here. I said there was but I haven't really been looking. Just wanted to perk him up a bit. Poor lad, imagine your wife running off with a one-legged lesbian. With some difficulty I bet.

Pre-season is well under way here. It's been good weather so we've been starting quite early in the morning to get the fitness back up. As is typical, we've all been playing practical jokes on each other for team bonding. Since England lost in the semi-finals of this years world cup I smeared sh*t on every Englishman's shirt in the dressing room, just to prove a point.

Wasn't one of my better jokes if I'm honest, but the ex-Metro's lads seemed to find it funny. 5 Scots, one Italian. Although he's probably the b****rd offspring of a one night stand when his mum went on holiday as he can't speak a word of his nations language. He doesn't even know what “Pizza†translates as.

24th August 2006.

Start to the season hasn't gone quite as I had planned. We've yet to win any of our games and we're almost a month in now. I told the lads that this was unacceptable and that if this was some sort of payback for the shirt & sh*t incident then it's gone on long enough.

We lost our most recent game 4-0 and the board made it clear to me that we've to start improving results immediately. I totally agree with them, and will be having words with our club scout and ask him why he keeps recommending me sh*t players all of the time. It's not on. Especially since I trust his judgement and sign about 50% of those that he believes would be good for the club.

I can not and will not take responsibility for the way the club has performed recently. I know it's not my fault, and now I have to use my man-management skills to turn things around. I did it amazingly last year when I came in and saved the club from relegation, and it looks like I'm going to have to do it again. Earlier than I thought too.

Moved in with the club physio for a few weeks until I find a place for myself down here. He's a nice chap, but there are a lot of steps to get to where he lives in his block. The elevator is broken and has been for the last 5 years he says, but the estate is so run down that the council won't come to fix it as it just gets vandalised all the time. I asked why he didn't do something about it, but it turns out it's his two kids that are the culprits. I'll be having words with them.

Phone call from Steve earlier as well. He's coming down once I get a place sorted out. I've let him stay in my flat back home so it gets looked after. He's got a dog now and I'm a bit uncomfortable with the thought of it shagging my sofa so I asked Jeff and Margaret to pop in every so often. Maybe combine it with a baked cake so as not to add suspicion.

28th August 2006.

Interesting day today, I got contacted from the head honcho at Drøbak/Frogn asking me if I'd be interested in heading over to Norway to manage their club. Obviously word of my management skills are beginning to spread across Europe, so quick as a flash I've arranged to travel over their for talks. Wish me luck.

29th August 2006.

Talks went well and I'm now the new manager at Drøbak/Frogn! I'm on £80 a week which is fine because Norway is quite a poor country so I won't have any trouble getting a place out here. We're 10th in the league at the moment (Second Division Group 1) but I don't think I'll have any trouble improving that position between now and the end of the season.

Steve phoned asking where I was as he had popped down to Farnborough on a surprise visit to see me (ouch!). I told a little white lie saying I was out doing some shopping. In Paris. I'd be back within the day so just to have a look around the town and do some sightseeing. I'll phone him later and say there are lorries blocking the Channel Tunnel later on so I'll be stuck in Paris for a few days. It'll buy me some time to work out what to tell him. He's a bit fragile. His dog died 2 days ago.

The players at the club look fitter than the ones back in England and the quality of the training complex is far superior because when it rains we just go into the local Sports Centre to train. It's HUGE! Definitely a step up for me.

3rd September 2006.

Had a dream the night before the game about a giant turtle swimming across the ocean to see me to let me know all it's eggs had been eaten by a shark. It was crying which was impressive as turtles can't cry. I can't remember what I said to it but I ended up on a boat with that guy from Jaws, not the main one, but the bearded one and we were trying to catch the shark to get the eggs back. Then in the distance Gentle Ben came swimming towards us, climbed on the boat and threw a spear that killed the shark.

We opened the shark up and found a gold watch but no eggs. IT WAS THE WRONG SHARK!

Maybe my dream is trying to tell me that I'm going after clubs too blindly and instead should plan what club (shark) I want to go for. Maybe the turtle is God helping pointing me in the right direction.

If that's so then why tell me to go to the shark (club) with turtles eggs, and not the one with the gold watch, as the gold watch one is obviously richer. f***ing turtles.

Lost first game in charge 6-0 to Bærum and it officially becomes the worst defeat in the clubs history.

4th September 2006.

Two voicemails from Steve. He's wondering where I am. He's no money to get home and starts a new job in less than 3 days. I haven't replied yet. If I pretend he never contacted me then the problem will surely go away.

1st October 2006.

Two games of the season left and after the disappointment of losing 6-0 in my first game I've managed to turn the club around and steer us well clear of relegation. We're one victory away from sealing a top-half finish and in many ways I feel this is a bigger achievement than what I achieved at Farnborough during my 6 months. The squad is half the size and Farnborough were always vying for that mid-table position whereas here we're thankful if we stay up in all honesty.

It's also confirmed my belief that I really am a manager that can win a team results when the chips are down. At 2 clubs in succession I've shown that I can be summoned in to ensure a club can move safely away from the drop.

I'm hopeful we can go out on a high this season, which has come quite suddenly. I didn't realise that Norwegian football gets played at a different time of year to other European nations. It's just a real pity that there is only 1 promotion place available, no wonder all the teams here are part-time, it's impossible to survive otherwise. Especially with 3 relegation spots snapping at your heels. It really is an unnecessary pressure cooker in this division.

4th October 2006.

I haven't heard from Steve in about a month now, so I thought I'd call him and leave him a message. Really wasn't sure what to say so concocted a story about how whilst I was in Paris, the Farnborough chairman mentioned that perhaps I could use the cheap air-fairs to fly over to Norway to conclude contract talks with a player we had been watching.

Whilst there I got a terrible virus and it meant that I couldn't travel (back and forth to the toilet every 5 minutes, vomiting etc.) I went on sick leave but as the club are part-time they couldn't give me sick pay and for 2 weeks I had to live on the streets of Oslo fighting for the dead remains of rats with the other beggars that litter the backstreets.

To make ends meet I plucked up the courage to steal a suit from a menswear store to replace the rags that I had worn and went to a job interview for the managers job at a football club 20 miles down the road. The roads were treacherous, and at times I collapsed due to starvation and dehydration before I dragged myself through the front doors of the stadium and mouthed the name of the chairman.

He came down to meet me and was so impressed at my courage and determination that I got the job instantly. The chairman felt that if I put even half the effort into managing the club as it took me to say “thank you†to him afterwards that I was definitely the man to lead his team to glory.

I spent a few days regaining my strength in the local hospital and the first thing I asked for when I was fit enough was a telephone so I could tell Tony Theo the whole story and to apologise for leaving his club in the lurch like that.

He thanked me for what I had done to the club in the short time I was there, and hand on heart we both shed a tear or two as we knew our paths may never cross again. He said that he felt he owed me a great deal for last seasons performance and if there was anything he could do for me, I just had to say the word.

I told him of a man I know, who travelled a long way with no money, no home, no family and nothing but a drive and determination to succeed. Tony should ignore him, and instead look out for a man called Steve. He should take him on as their new manager because he needs something to keep him from jumping off the nearest bridge.

Tony said he'd grant my wishes, and we left on good terms. My phone call to Steve was to check he was settling in okay in his new job, and to wish him all the best. But wait... what's that? He never got the job? You mean Tony went back on his promise to me? Why the little scumbag!

Hehehehe. Simply brilliant.

22nd October 2006.

The season has ended and we finished 4th in the league which is absolutely fantastic and I feel over the moon right now. We might have sneaked 3rd had we not conceded a very late goal to draw 1-1 with Frigg. This is far better than anyone associated with the club could have imagined and we thoroughly deserved the p*ss up we had last night.

This has been my best run of results since being in management and although we didn't win our last game, our goal was one of the best I had seen since my time here. It was a team effort with some slick passes. I asked someone in the crowd if they knew if the game was being recorded but they laughed at me. I guess games this low down don't get the coverage that I feel they deserve.

Career statistics so far:<UL TYPE=SQUARE>

<LI>Played 29, Won 13, Drawn 7, Lost 9.

At the end of this season we were the number one team on form. Winning four and drawing one of our last 5 games. In fact, since I arrived and forgetting that 6-0 defeat, we've been unbeaten during my reign. Not bad, not bad at all.

It's too expensive to fly back home right now so I'm planing on going sightseeing whilst the team are on holiday. I haven't really explored Norway much since I came here but I'm determined to see what the place is like, and also check out what other football clubs there are around here. It's not been long but I feel more settled here than I did in England. I think it's to do with the media being less arrogant about their national team. Probably because the Norwegian team is really crap just now.

I asked the chairman how many weeks we've got until we've to start getting the lads ready for the next season. We don't start again until May! But pre-season starts again in December. Christmas day to be exact. Bit of a p*ss-poor time to start if I'm honest, but hey! We've got 4 months of training? Come next season I'm going to have a team full of super-fit athletes. Promotion here we come!

25th October 2006.

Message from Steve. He pawned his mobile off a month ago to get money for some food. He's now living off Salvation Army soup and busking every day to keep himself from starving. When I told him about the job at Farnborough he burst into tears and hung up. Poor lad. If only he had kept his mobile he may have a managers job now (joke).

19th November 2006.

Hello from Drøbak! It's nice and sunny here, if a bit cold (think my knob has fallen off, been p*ssing icicles the last fortnight).

Okay, so yeah, I didn't travel outside the town but that's down to lack of funds rather than being a lazy arse. Really need to start saving the money up as I don't fancy living the same life I did this time last year.

I've done a wee bit of networking, and I've become quite a local celebrity around here. I've yet to receive any freebies like a power-shower or a bag of coal or something but it's only a matter of time. I'm known as “Scotchman†around here. The locals seem to think that's my favourite tipple. I thought I'd play a wee joke on them and asked for some Bacardi Breezers instead. As well as been stung for the equivalent of five quid a bottle, I got hit on by some fat b****rd in a string vest. And it wasn't Rab C Nesbitt. Turns out I had been frequenting a gay bar for the last week. In fact, the amount of gay people in Drøbak averages more per hundred people than anywhere else in Norway. Did you know that? Because I f***ing didn't. Did I!

I've found the place to be very warm and welcoming, albeit there are far too many old people, a bit disappointing as I wanted to show the Norse women why Scottish beef is renowned throughout Europe. I'm telling you, once a lass gets their gums around those plums they don't go back.

There are a number of youth teams that play through the winter months, not as many as play during spring/summer of course, but the youth players that play in winter are more likely to be snapped up by clubs around these divisions because our season is just starting and these young guys are already fit and can give a great boost to the start to your season.

Unfortunately we'll never know how good these kids are as I sent my scout over to the UK over the winter break to have a look for players and I can't be arsed heading to watch them as I have to pass that gay bar to get to the fields. Getting taunted and called “Scotty Poof†whilst they all slap their arses in a bucking-bronko fashion isn't nice. I shouldn't have to deal with that, and will probably go to the police about it at some point.

21st December 2006.

Spending Christmas here isn't all that bad I suppose. There is a great sense of community about the place and I've been doing my bit with a few of the more well-known players we have on the books visiting the sick children in hospital. I feel really privileged to be a part of this, and a few photographs were taken. They were only for the local newspaper but I hear it goes out to about a dozen different towns around this area so at least my face is getting seen by more people. Oh, and the kids, I'm helping the kids too. Most important.

I'm spending Christmas dinner at the club, a kind of half corporate dinner, half dinner with the chairman and his wife. It's really nice to be a part of something like that, I just hope I don't embarrass myself as I don't know much about stocks and shares and the positions of the markets etc.

The Chairman Lennart Beijer (I call him Lenny) said I was more than welcome to bring a guest and like a fool I said to keep a spare seat at our table as I'd be more than happy to bring someone along.

She was 50, and the best I could do on such short notice. I've never met anyone that can smell of dog hairs even though they don't own a dog, it was amazing. Every so often she'd burst into a broken English version of Imagine by John Lennon. I could cope with that, but she was foot stomping and trying (badly I might add) to play the spoons. She only did this when I was getting into a conversation with other people.

I did well with the sponsors when it came to talking money. I just nodded, did the “uh huh, oh really, yeah, I had heard that mmm-hmm†kind of vague talking as well as the tut-tutting when it seemed appropriate. No raised eyebrows, no look of confusion on their faces, I pulled it off. Well done Dave!

There was a wee bit of dancing going on, which to my utter disbelief wasn't like traditional dancing like the kind you get back home at Christmas. Nah, this lot danced to reggae. REGGAE!!! They had a tape player in the corner, stuck it on and we had 2 hours of the stuff. Not wanting to look out of place, myself and the wrinkly dog-smelling wierdo got up and tried our best. I've never heard John Lennon sung in a more bizarre situation before. Freakily the drums gave it a more modern feel, and it crazily worked! It's tradition to do this every year Lenny says. Because the club was founded by a “jungle man†(his words, not mine) almost 80 years ago, we had to pay respects to him.

The closest thing I can compare this to is that Fat Boy Slim song with whatshisname from Batman Returns in it. It was that sort of dancing, in that sort of suit and tie. And these guys were no spring chickens. They made dear old b*ll*ck-breath seem like a mere teenager.

I've never had a Christmas like it.

3rd January 2007

My head feels like it's been belted over the head by a brick wall. I've very little recollection over the last fortnight after our Christmas party. Although I did wake up the next morning with a condom stuck to my face. Without thinking I threw it straight out of my bedroom window, now I'm worried if I used it on that 50 year or worse yet, someone used it on me!

I crawled out of my bed and looked down at the floor, there was empty bottles everywhere. The worrying thing was none of it was alcohol. It was Calpol. That stuff you give kids when they are ill. No wonder my head hurt. I think I must have drunk 10 bottles of the stuff.

At about 11am I made my way out of the house to get some bread and milk. On my way I had to pass that gay bar. Being early in the morning it was pretty empty but the regulars were out in force, still celebrating the new year. I bet they've not even been home yet.

Lenny, the chairman was in the shop picking up some things as well. He seemed very chirpy and greeted me with a wink and a smile. There was something not quite right about a man acknowledging another man in that way. I smiled back and shuffled over to the dairy section, trying to make sure I was hidden from his view.

I pretended to look at the calories in a fruit yoghurt whilst glancing to see if he was looking at me. I caught him looking over then giving a wave. Bugger waving back I thought.

At 2pm I crawled back into bed to try and shift my headache. It didn't pass, and it's now just going on 11pm as I'm writing this entry. I haven't tidied up yet, I'm leaving the place exactly as is to see if it can jog my memory on anything.

10th January 2007

First day back at training today. Until now I'd managed to avoid Lenny but I knew he'd be at the sports complex to greet the team as they arrived one by one. I had noticed him standing at the front door, suit and tie on, all smiles and handshakes to all the players.

I suppose it was a nice idea, to make the players feel more attached to the club, to show that the chairman cared about the place and the staff, but it kept niggling in the back of my mind – was he scouting for another victim of Calpol induces homosexual shenanigans? In a way I hoped so. It would let me off the hook. I could be one if his notches on the bedpost and nothing further.

Training went alright, there was no laughing and joking in the morning. I wanted to drill it into the lads heads that we were gunning for promotion this year. It's better to think ultra-positive in situations where you're trying to avoid relegation. Raise the bar even higher to push you to give an extra effort in games.

Most of the lads were in good shape, better than they had been when I had come in. They were definitely up for it this season. I have a good feeling that we could shock a few people if we steer clear of injuries.

24th January 2007

“Dear Dave,

Thank you very much for your letter you sent to us. As you can no doubt understand, we get lots and lots of letters from people from all over the UK and because we always try to send out a personal response letter back it takes a while for us to get through them all.

Unfortunately, Jim'll Fix It is no longer on the air, so you're request to be the manager of a football club for a day can not be fulfilled. We thank you for your letter and hope that you managed to live your dream out through other means.

Claire Gibbons

Head of Childrens Entertainment

British Broadcasting Corporationâ€

I forgive you Jim.

16th February 2007

I've had a very strange couple of days dear diary. First off, on the 14th I get a note through the door just with a big X on it. I didn't click straight away that it was Valentines Day so it puzzled me for a good while until I clicked. Then on the 15th I get ten more through the door. ONE EVERY HOUR!!!

I have no idea what's going on, but it freaked me out enough to contact Lenny on his mobile to find out where he was and what he was up to just as the eighth one popped through my door. I realised my mistake of contacting him too late as he said he was thrilled to be getting a personal call from me. I had to make an excuse to hang up on him. I fobbed him off some rubbish about a fat dog has just crashed through my roof and I needed to make sure it was okay. He sounded quite stunned about it, as you would do if someone broke that sort of news to you.

So it wasn't Lenny, I worked out. Who was it? I didn't dare ask around the town in case they all thought I was nuts, or hell, maybe it's just another of those bizarre “Jungle Man†rituals the club has every year. I'll keep you posted.

3rd March 2007

Nothing has come through for over 2 weeks now, so I'm putting it down to some kids that have nothing better to do with their time than mess around. I bet they're kids from another town, fans of one of our rival clubs. Once I find out who they were I'll hammer their team 10-0 or something pretty damn close to that.

We've completed our pre-season friendlies now. Most were against higher opposition and whilst we only won one of our four games, we played pretty well in all but one of them. Our fitness levels over 90 minutes are quite low just now, despite being in good physical shape, and I can't help but thinking we should have had a few more games before the season started.

There was sad news for me today too. Do you remember Steve? Myself and him were having a competition to find out who could earn the most money in our careers as managers. Well after losing his job, his wife, his house and eventually his car the inevitable happened. He took a job at Stenhousemuir. Their in the 3rd division in Scotland for crying out loud, and he's on LESS than he was at Clyde. HAHAHAHAHAHA, I'm actually laughing through my fingers. Watch. HAHAHAHAHAAAAA. That was a long laugh. AHA. That was me finishing my laugh.

I got in contact with him last week as he was staying in my flat. He's now living with 5 students. Yes, all in my flat. I told him that the flat was due to be vacated shortly and you got the feeling that just when he was finding his feet, I had pulled the rug out from beneath him.

Feeling sorry for him, I phoned up Stenhousemuir and asked if they'd be willing to let me have the services of Steve out here in Norway. I was told they'd gladly let him go, and that was by the secretary! Well, that was my good dead I thought, and next week, Steve should have a contract offer to join me out here. It's the least I could do for a mate really.

26th March 2007

Well it's been sorted. Steve is now a coach with us out here, and I immediately made sure he knew who was boss by making him put out the cones in the rain. He complained that it was the young lads that did this after their under-21 training was over so I gave him a big speech about how I've been here longer than him and that this was the way I do things around here. My assistant, the little swine, didn't back me up and went to help Steve out with the cones, giving a sly look back in disgust at me. I showed him the finger, smiled and went back into my office.

After setting out the cones, Steve came in to chat. We caught up with what we'd both been up to since we completed our coaching badges, me trying to skip past all his bad times, him trying to skip over all my good times in case it sent him into a deeply depressive mind-set. So for 2 hours of conversation we talked for only 10 minutes, the rest of time just standing in silence, staring out of the window oggling any nice women that happened to pass by.

Though he didn't say anything, I knew he was grateful to me for giving him a break out here. A fresh start. I felt like God.

I stayed on late at the club, just organising the training for tomorrow. It was about 10pm before I left the stadium and wandered along the road. Steve was staying at mine for the near future, and I told him to make the place his own. Boy did he make it his own.

I caught him in my bed, arse raised to the roof, going full throttle at a very happy club chairman.

July 9th 2005.

Hello diary! Well I'm very excited, I don't know about you? Suppose you can only get as excited as the words I write in here eh. In which case this opening paragraph was pretty crap. What's that? Oh yeah, you're not a real person. Sorry.

Well here it is, day one of a new start. My first steps to becoming a millionaire and idolised by thousands of millions (maybe) of people around the world. I'm on the road to becoming a football club manager.

It's taken me 3 years to get my coaching badges (I finished in the top 5 out of our group, which is well good!) and I've sent off my CV to UEFA. They returned it back saying they don't deal with CV's but after some perseverance they told me where to send it. I assume they mean my CV otherwise it was rather rude.

I'm sitting here by my telephone waiting for a call now. It's almost the start of the new season so someone is bound to need a manager. And one that finished top 5 in their coaching class at that. (Side note: my mate Steve has taken on a coaching role at Clyde. Hahaha, what a muppet! We're having a race to see who earns more than the other at the end of this season. I'll obviously be higher up than him. I'll keep you posted on his progress too).

Tasks for today:<UL TYPE=SQUARE>

<LI>Send CV to UEFA (again!)

<LI>Defrost the freezer (can't shut the drawers without them making a horrible scraping noise against the ice. THIS IS URGENT!)

<LI>Catch up on EastEnders.

13th July 2005.

The Champions League qualifiers have just started. Wish I was there. Next season Dave! Looking at the teams the only one I'd realistically manage is Liverpool. The rest are pretty rubbish. Glentoran? That's a whisky isn't it?

It's been a week now. I'm assuming UEFA have faxed my CV to all it's member clubs. I checked the UEFA website and noticed that they cover 32 nations. Fook that! I've taken out a year's lease on this flat so can't move very far. Certainly not to Latvia. Ideally I'd probably look at managing Inverness Caledonian Thistle or Aberdeen. Any further afield costs a lot in petrol.

28th July 2005.

Almost a month now, so far nothing! I've looked at the clubs needing managers and a newly formed team called Inverness Metros are looking for one. I won't go for it though. Nah, you see, it's the Scottish Third Division and teams starting off their rarely have any money. I need money for my team. I'll email UEFA later on and see what's going on. The domestic season is starting very soon and I need to be in place before then to stand a chance of getting my team promoted (or winning the Premier League, depending on the team that comes for me).

Margaret next door baked me a cake to congratulate me on getting my coaching licence. It's baked in the shape of a car, but it's the thought that counts. I binned it, tasted crap. Her husband Jeff coaches the local school's under-12's. He joked that if nothing comes up soon I can always come along and put out the cones. Cheeky b****rd. I've a good mind to sh*t in his letterbox. But I won't. Not after he caught me last time.

20th August 2005.

Popped along to the under-12's training with Jeff as had nothing better to do in all honesty. In fact I haven't been out of the flat in about a week, I've started rationing food so it's lasting longer, money is getting a wee bit tight and I might need to dip into my savings soon. Was going to use it for signing-on fee's if we wanted a big name player, I've been saving for 5 years now, almost a grand in the bank.

I stood with the parents on the touchline as the training went under way. In the afternoon there was a game on so I thought I'd stay for that too. A number of fathers asked who I was as they hadn't seen me before. I told them I was a club manager and just came along to have a look at what was going on. They were impressed that a manager went along in person and not his scouts. I shrugged as if to say “it's no troubleâ€. I think they bought it. I felt quite important.

The game itself was pretty poor. It was like watching Highland League football, I made a mental note not to sign any of these lads when they get a bit older as they were p*ss-poor. Anybody that skies a ball into a neighbouring field will never make it as a professional. I felt quite proud at taking my first managerial decision since getting my licence and to celebrate I went into town with Jeff and got p*ssed.

21st August 2005.

Dear god what have I done?! Checked my emails this morning and it appears that when I got in last night I applied for a job at River in Brazil. They are in the Brazilian 3rd division!!! I can't go there, I mean, what about my flowers, they need watered every day. And not to mention Brazil is a whole other country entirely. I can't speak Brazilian!

I spoke to Jeff and he said I was so drunk that he had to write and send the email for me. I was apparently adamant that I wanted to send it that night and got quite aggressive when he wouldn't do it for me. Oh god. God, god, god, god, god, GOD!

I checked the net to find out information on River, Google is goddam awful, it kept on returning results for River Plate, the Argentinian team. Jeff said he thought that's who he sent the email to. THANKS A LOT JEFF!!!!

7th September 2005.

No world from River yet thankfully. Hopefully they've got spam filters or something to block the email. hunglikeahorse@gmail.com shouldn't have any trouble getting blocked. Hmmm... that might explain why I've had no word from any clubs yet. Maybe they think it's a joke. I'll sign up another email address and try again. Ah well, looks like every cloud has a silver lining as they say.

At the under-12's training I had a father continuously bug me about his son. He wanted to know what club I was from and if his son had any chance at the game. I told him his son had more chance of scoring when he turned 16. Don't think he understood the joke and he instead passed on his phone number to my “secretaryâ€. Who, it turns out, was a single mother standing next to me.

Ran out of soap today, don't really want to dip into my savings so had to use a double dose of Lynx to mask the odour (hot water by itself doesn't cut it, and using toothpaste was just down-right weird, not doing that again).

If things don't pick up soon I might need to sign-on! (Don't worry, that's a joke).

19th September 2005

I f***ing signed on.

26th September 2005

Had a meeting at the Job Centre. According to them, you need to be actively seeking work to collect your dole money. I told them of my attempts to gain work over the last 2 months and they did seem impressed until they found out it was a managerial post at a football club. To them, it wasn't what constitutes a “real job†so I had to lower my standards. Assistant Manager wasn't acceptable either and I have no intention of finding myself below Steve's standards (who, by the way, is doing alright, but had to get a job at Tesco to help pay for his mortgage, such a loser.)

I've got another meeting in a months time to find out how I am doing, and I've got a selection of print-outs from this program they ran with me that is meant to find out jobs that suit my strengths. It's a load of b*ll*cks as “Club Manager†wasn't amongst any of the results. Was quite impressed that “Media Work†was there though. Opportunity to become a pundit for next years World Cup a la Gordon Strachan looks closer now.

Got an email titled “Are You A Football Manager?†today. I was all excited until I found out it was about a b****rd computer game from SEGA. I replied asking if they thought that was funny? Nothing back yet but I'll let you know if they email again.

1st November 2005.

I can't take this for much longer. It's closing on to almost half a year since I left my job and still no sign of a managerial post at a club. In a panic I randomly phoned up the first club that had sacked their manager that I noticed on the BBC website. Athlone Town. Where is that? Ireland or something? Bah, I just need a job really bad. Margaret next door took over cookies and I was almost tempted to eat them. Things have never been this bad before.

The chairman of Athlone Town asked me to send in my CV. I told him UEFA should have already forwarded it on. He laughed and asked if he was on Beadle's About. I told him I didn't know what that was, but would forward on my CV as it was obviously misplaced by his secretary.

Speaking of secretaries, the single mother and that father at the under-12's finally got together. I don't think either of them knows about the misunderstanding that brought them together but they seem happy enough. His son is now on the books at Aberdeen. Ha! More fool them!

I've asked Jeff if I could take part in the training some weekends. I might as well share my talents with the kids as it's clearly obvious that they need the training and more importantly it gives me exposure as someone that can work with kids. That's a plus point on my CV straight away.

I asked UEFA if it's possible to include that I finished in the top 5 in my class when I got my coaching licence on my CV. They said they don't deal with CV's (it was a woman that answered, I think she was new) and that as far as she knew, UEFA's licencing didn't have a points system and that is was just a pass or fail type of thing. I'm going to include it anyway, because I clearly remember being called a “top†man when I got my certificate, along with 4 other blokes. The others just got told “good workâ€. Including Steve!

Late entry: I applied to become manager of a team called Angers in France. I think I'll continue the theme of applying to clubs based on my current feelings for that particular day. Sexdrega in Sweden is next on the list. It's been a year.

16th November 2005.

My application to become the new manager of Angers was unsuccessful. They hired some French guy instead. A bit racist hiring somebody because of their nationality, and I let them know what I thought. They dismissed my accusations and thanked me again for applying. Smelly French tw*ts.

20th November 2005.

Applied for a job at SpVgg Greuther Fürth in Germany. More for a laugh than anything. In my email I asked if they could phone me back regarding my application. I want to know how to pronounce the name so I sound more intellectual when talking about clubs from other parts of the world. I hope they see the funny side.

Margaret and Jeff were very kind and lent me money to get some Christmas shopping done. They'll get paid back double when I finally land a job I told them, but Jeff said that it's fine, and that he felt he owed me something for taking the kids training session when he went on holiday to Tenerife a couple of weeks back. Does this technically count as me getting paid work as a footballing coach? I've put it down as a yes. Going to see Steve tomorrow to see how he's getting on, and if he's close to matching the £50 wages that I just got from Jeff. Bet he gets paid in peanuts at Clyde. Hahaha.

21st November 2005.

Steve called to say he couldn't meet me today. He's looking at getting a new car or something. I think he means downgrading his old model to something more affordable. Anyway, it means I can catch up on some sleep. By my way of thinking if I store up on lots of sleep before getting a job then I won't be as tired taking charge of a team. Much like how a camel stores water. Began to wonder if I would develop humps if I did this long enough. Wouldn't look good for interviews would it. Decided tonight is my last night of stocking up on sleep in case I start to become deformed.

26th November 2005.

SpVgg Greuther Fürth emailed me back (yes emailed!) to say my application was unsuccessful. Guess I'll never know how to pronounce it now. Bet it pronounced “Spyergen Gyergen†or something equally as daft.

Tasks for today:<UL TYPE=SQUARE>

<LI>Email another club that has no manager to see if they require my services.

<LI>Arrange another appointment for Job Centre.

<LI>Politely ask Margaret to stop baking me cakes.

Steve got the new Mondeo. Wonder how much his loan is as there is no chance he could afford it on the pittance he gets at Clyde.

20th December 2005.

I'm in a spot of desperation now. No sign of work, so I'm going to whore myself around as many clubs as I can to see if I can get a job. Just... anything! I need work! But only as a manager, to hell with coaching, it's too much hard work for little money.

In total I put my CV to 11 clubs, most in Europe although there was that one in Brazil that Jeff did for me. Still no word on them but I'll keep them as a possibility for now. All I want is a club for Christmas. Please, please, please... anyone? Santa?

I met up for the under-12's training before the schools break for Christmas today, I've been asked to take them officially as Jeff is retiring and his back has been playing up recently. I said I'd gladly help out but if a job comes along I'll have to leave immediately. I'm not getting paid for it unfortunately but as I've said before, it's exposure. I'm hopeful that a club scout can come along and we can network. Maybe get a manager post out of it? I can dream...

1st January 2006.

Here's to a new year, and hopefully a more prosperous one than the last. My resolutions in no particular order are:<UL TYPE=SQUARE>

<LI>Get a club manager job

<LI>See if I can wangle a pundits job for the World Cup (realistically local radio)

<LI>Earn more money than Steve before the season ends

<LI>Drink less

Three of those are definitely achievable this year, although the drinking one will be tough. Especially if my team are winning trophies all the time.

I spent my Hogmanay in town with people I didn't know. I couldn't afford a ticket to get into the more “high-brow†establishments so had to make do with the bar with only one toilet and feeling like I'm in a cattle market. I wish I had tits so I could flash the barman to get served. Was a nightmare. Not even drunk which maybe is a good thing in case I send off any more silly emails.

4th January 2006.

Happy Birthday to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Got a new pair of trainers, a notebook (handy for when I'm making notes on the touchline) and a warm jacket. Oh, and a f***ing cake from Margaret.

7th January 2006.

Really depressed today. Almost exactly 6 months since I started this diary which was meant to be an account of my rise to the top. This was to make it easier to write my autobiography as I know a lot happens in football so writing it all down certainly helps.

Although it helps even more if I had a club to write about. I really don't care where I end up now. UEFA aren't replying to any of my emails, maybe because of the holidays, maybe because I've annoyed them so often. I don't know what to do with myself anymore. Should I give up and look for a job away from football? Surely anything can be better than sitting around waiting for the phone to ring.

I got a score of 218 in Solitaire this morning by the way. Not bad.

22nd January 2006.

Graham Roberts got sacked as Clyde manager today. Immediately I threw my hat into the ring, and found out Steve had done the same. Really this is no contest and I'm feeling pretty damn confident of finally landing a job. Better start looking out for some houses round the area. Clyde – here I come!

26th January 2006.

Well the Clyde job never came off for myself or Steve, but guess what? I've been offered the mangers job of Farnborough Town!!! Yeah, I know, I can't believe it either. They've offered me a 3 year deal, at £180 a week, but I'm going to try and push for a bit more. After all, I'm one of the top 5 coaches in the country. I want no less than £250 a week, and obviously a bit more transfer money. I'm all excited now!!!!

This is it diary, this is the step to glory I've been waiting for!

27th January 2006.

You're looking at the new manager of Farnborough Town, worth a staggering £220 a week. This is such a thrill, to be finally involved at a high level in football and more importantly I'm earning twice as much as Steve is at Clyde.

There wasn't a press conference which was a bit disappointing but I did chat to a reporter for the local paper in which I told him what deal I was on (being careful not to mention my wage) and what my aim for the club was.

The chairman Tony Theo seemed a nice enough chap, although I'm not sure if that was his real name as I think he had a lisp. When we chatted he explained that my job was to secure the future of the club, to basically make sure we don't go bust. We're 4 points off the bottom of Conference South so we've to ensure relegation is avoided.

I feel like Superman.

28th January 2006.

My first game in charge was against league leaders Weymouth, one helluva challenge, and this was my first chance to prove just how much I had learnt at Largs when I earned my badges.

I had a tactic all set out in my head, one that I felt would be my standard for years to come and one that I wanted my players to fit into. If they didn't work in my tactic then they were out the door. This was my system and I'm sticking to it.

We won 1-0! I couldn't believe it, I really couldn't. Considering they had umpteen-million chances to our umm.... five. And our defending was atrocious, I really needed to sort that out. Besides all that, it was a win. And it was the perfect start to my managerial career.

Beat that Steve!

13th May 2006.

It's been such a great experience this season, and I've had to deal with the jubilation of clearing away from the relegation zone and pure just.... guttedness (check that's a word?) because we came within an ants pube of getting into the play-off's. In the end it wasn't to be but it didn't stop us from celebrating at the end of the campaign. Let's be honest, it's not exactly Chelsea, but Farnborough is a good a place as any to cut your managerial cloth.

I haven't started planning for next season yet. Although I do have a few players waiting to have contracts finalised before I prepare for a push for promotion next year.

There was an interview with the local radio station earlier in which he seemed to think that the fans were putting trust in me to push the club up through the division next year, which is always nice to hear. I made a mention of my top 5 placement being of obvious benefit to Farnborough just in case there was anyone listening that was looking for a manager. I don't plan on sticking around the lower divisions for long. Not after the brilliant start I've made:<UL TYPE=SQUARE>

<LI>Started 20th. Finished 11th.

<LI>Earnings for this year: £3,300 before tax.

<LI>Played 18, Won 9, Drawn 4, Lost 5.

<LI>Gained 5 pounds in weight, 10 more grey hairs noticeable.

Planning a trip home to Inverness over the summer now that the season is over. It's going to be funny heading back there now that I'm a celebrity. I'll probably get stopped in the streets and have women all over me. I wonder how Alex Ferguson deals with it. Maybe I should phone him and get some advice, lots of other managers do it and now I'm “one of them†perhaps I should start living the life a bit more.

I officially earned more money than Steve this season too. It didn't help that he was laid off last week because Clyde got relegated. So now he's no work at all (Tesco was temporary). I told him that when I negotiate my next contract I'll send him something to get him by.

It's the World Cup soon as well. I've given up on the whole pundit idea, the local radio down here said they couldn't afford to cover it. I did suggest maybe just have me describing what was happening on the TV but they waved that idea away. I bet it's because I'm Scottish. Snooty b****rds. Hope their c**try loses now. And yes that is an intentional spelling mistake! That being said, England is a lovely country to live in.

12th June 2006.

Back in Inverness now. Got a late train so that I wouldn't get harassed by people if it was busy. Guy in the taxi had Under Pressure by Queen on (the one with David Bowie). I thought it was quite a good song to have if they ever do a documentary about me. I don't mean Queen doing a documentary of course, I mean a TV company. Although Queen would be ace to do a soundtrack for it. And the revenue generated from an album release would be huge! Anyway... the documentary could have me setting off in my Porsche to work and then do a montage of me on the touchline looking stressed with that song playing. And at the end it shows a winning goal and me celebrating winning a trophy. It was a good idea, and I'm glad I've taken a note of it here so I can use it in future. I'll tell the production staff about it when they are doing the story boards.

Edit: Would “We Are The Champions†be too much? It's another Queen song but it would go well in another part of the documentary.

Popped in to see Jeff and Margaret. Both are doing fine. Jeff still goes along to watch the kids play football although obviously doesn't take part in the training any more. I asked him how the papers up here were portraying me but he said he hadn't noticed anything in the papers here although he was sure it was all nice things. Margaret said that Jeff only reads the Financial Times and the Sunday Sport. To be fair, if I was in any of those I'd be a bit worried (or curious) as to what they were writing about me.

Had a few beers and then popped into the flat to check for any mail. There was a lot. A few from the Job Centre asking me to make another appointment and another to say that since I hadn't come in to see them they had suspended my dole money. I did think about phoning them to complain but there isn't much point as I'll be earning enough to see me by soon enough anyway. Jeff said later that blind optimism isn't necessarily a good thing. I replied saying I'm just a naturally positive person who never thinks of the glass being half empty. Quick as a flash he says that there isn't any thinking on my part before the glass gets half empty. I think he was talking about alcohol. Oh Jeff, such a character.

19th June 2006.

Checked the papers and the internet to see if there was any news about me. I did find one thing which I've printed out and kept in a scrapbook of a small “News In Brief†article on the BBC Sport site that says:

“METROS Farnborough Town boss Murchison

secures signings of three youth players

from cashless Inverness sideâ€

How cool is that!! It linked to other stories about Metros saying that officials at the SFA were investigating something to do with their chairman and something about foreign donations of some sort. All looked a bit dodgy to me, so I'm very glad I stayed clear of offering myself to become manager of that club.

Phone call from the chairman Tony Theo (Seo?) to tell me that the club accountant has said that there will be no money for transfers for next season so we should look at getting the youth players to have some first team experience. We've to try and get mid-table again. I can't wait to see his face in May when we win the league.

19th July 2006.

Getting set for the new season back in Farnborough now. Had a look at getting a flat down in the area but also took out a new lease on the one back home. Now that I'm a manager I'm really supposed to have two homes. It's quite expensive down here so at Christmas if we're doing well I'll probably ask for a new contract so I can afford something a bit better than what I can currently get.

Signed a few more Metros lads. Seems that they're the only players willing to sign for me. Not complaining though, they seem to know their stuff.

I asked Steve if he fancied coming down here to coach at the club. I took pity on him. His wife recently left him, and he's had to sell his house as he can't get any well paid work in Clyde. He said he'll think about it, and asked if there was any fit women down here. I said there was but I haven't really been looking. Just wanted to perk him up a bit. Poor lad, imagine your wife running off with a one-legged lesbian. With some difficulty I bet.

Pre-season is well under way here. It's been good weather so we've been starting quite early in the morning to get the fitness back up. As is typical, we've all been playing practical jokes on each other for team bonding. Since England lost in the semi-finals of this years world cup I smeared sh*t on every Englishman's shirt in the dressing room, just to prove a point.

Wasn't one of my better jokes if I'm honest, but the ex-Metro's lads seemed to find it funny. 5 Scots, one Italian. Although he's probably the b****rd offspring of a one night stand when his mum went on holiday as he can't speak a word of his nations language. He doesn't even know what “Pizza†translates as.

24th August 2006.

Start to the season hasn't gone quite as I had planned. We've yet to win any of our games and we're almost a month in now. I told the lads that this was unacceptable and that if this was some sort of payback for the shirt & sh*t incident then it's gone on long enough.

We lost our most recent game 4-0 and the board made it clear to me that we've to start improving results immediately. I totally agree with them, and will be having words with our club scout and ask him why he keeps recommending me sh*t players all of the time. It's not on. Especially since I trust his judgement and sign about 50% of those that he believes would be good for the club.

I can not and will not take responsibility for the way the club has performed recently. I know it's not my fault, and now I have to use my man-management skills to turn things around. I did it amazingly last year when I came in and saved the club from relegation, and it looks like I'm going to have to do it again. Earlier than I thought too.

Moved in with the club physio for a few weeks until I find a place for myself down here. He's a nice chap, but there are a lot of steps to get to where he lives in his block. The elevator is broken and has been for the last 5 years he says, but the estate is so run down that the council won't come to fix it as it just gets vandalised all the time. I asked why he didn't do something about it, but it turns out it's his two kids that are the culprits. I'll be having words with them.

Phone call from Steve earlier as well. He's coming down once I get a place sorted out. I've let him stay in my flat back home so it gets looked after. He's got a dog now and I'm a bit uncomfortable with the thought of it shagging my sofa so I asked Jeff and Margaret to pop in every so often. Maybe combine it with a baked cake so as not to add suspicion.

28th August 2006.

Interesting day today, I got contacted from the head honcho at Drøbak/Frogn asking me if I'd be interested in heading over to Norway to manage their club. Obviously word of my management skills are beginning to spread across Europe, so quick as a flash I've arranged to travel over their for talks. Wish me luck.

29th August 2006.

Talks went well and I'm now the new manager at Drøbak/Frogn! I'm on £80 a week which is fine because Norway is quite a poor country so I won't have any trouble getting a place out here. We're 10th in the league at the moment (Second Division Group 1) but I don't think I'll have any trouble improving that position between now and the end of the season.

Steve phoned asking where I was as he had popped down to Farnborough on a surprise visit to see me (ouch!). I told a little white lie saying I was out doing some shopping. In Paris. I'd be back within the day so just to have a look around the town and do some sightseeing. I'll phone him later and say there are lorries blocking the Channel Tunnel later on so I'll be stuck in Paris for a few days. It'll buy me some time to work out what to tell him. He's a bit fragile. His dog died 2 days ago.

The players at the club look fitter than the ones back in England and the quality of the training complex is far superior because when it rains we just go into the local Sports Centre to train. It's HUGE! Definitely a step up for me.

3rd September 2006.

Had a dream the night before the game about a giant turtle swimming across the ocean to see me to let me know all it's eggs had been eaten by a shark. It was crying which was impressive as turtles can't cry. I can't remember what I said to it but I ended up on a boat with that guy from Jaws, not the main one, but the bearded one and we were trying to catch the shark to get the eggs back. Then in the distance Gentle Ben came swimming towards us, climbed on the boat and threw a spear that killed the shark.

We opened the shark up and found a gold watch but no eggs. IT WAS THE WRONG SHARK!

Maybe my dream is trying to tell me that I'm going after clubs too blindly and instead should plan what club (shark) I want to go for. Maybe the turtle is God helping pointing me in the right direction.

If that's so then why tell me to go to the shark (club) with turtles eggs, and not the one with the gold watch, as the gold watch one is obviously richer. f***ing turtles.

Lost first game in charge 6-0 to Bærum and it officially becomes the worst defeat in the clubs history.

4th September 2006.

Two voicemails from Steve. He's wondering where I am. He's no money to get home and starts a new job in less than 3 days. I haven't replied yet. If I pretend he never contacted me then the problem will surely go away.

1st October 2006.

Two games of the season left and after the disappointment of losing 6-0 in my first game I've managed to turn the club around and steer us well clear of relegation. We're one victory away from sealing a top-half finish and in many ways I feel this is a bigger achievement than what I achieved at Farnborough during my 6 months. The squad is half the size and Farnborough were always vying for that mid-table position whereas here we're thankful if we stay up in all honesty.

It's also confirmed my belief that I really am a manager that can win a team results when the chips are down. At 2 clubs in succession I've shown that I can be summoned in to ensure a club can move safely away from the drop.

I'm hopeful we can go out on a high this season, which has come quite suddenly. I didn't realise that Norwegian football gets played at a different time of year to other European nations. It's just a real pity that there is only 1 promotion place available, no wonder all the teams here are part-time, it's impossible to survive otherwise. Especially with 3 relegation spots snapping at your heels. It really is an unnecessary pressure cooker in this division.

4th October 2006.

I haven't heard from Steve in about a month now, so I thought I'd call him and leave him a message. Really wasn't sure what to say so concocted a story about how whilst I was in Paris, the Farnborough chairman mentioned that perhaps I could use the cheap air-fairs to fly over to Norway to conclude contract talks with a player we had been watching.

Whilst there I got a terrible virus and it meant that I couldn't travel (back and forth to the toilet every 5 minutes, vomiting etc.) I went on sick leave but as the club are part-time they couldn't give me sick pay and for 2 weeks I had to live on the streets of Oslo fighting for the dead remains of rats with the other beggars that litter the backstreets.

To make ends meet I plucked up the courage to steal a suit from a menswear store to replace the rags that I had worn and went to a job interview for the managers job at a football club 20 miles down the road. The roads were treacherous, and at times I collapsed due to starvation and dehydration before I dragged myself through the front doors of the stadium and mouthed the name of the chairman.

He came down to meet me and was so impressed at my courage and determination that I got the job instantly. The chairman felt that if I put even half the effort into managing the club as it took me to say “thank you†to him afterwards that I was definitely the man to lead his team to glory.

I spent a few days regaining my strength in the local hospital and the first thing I asked for when I was fit enough was a telephone so I could tell Tony Theo the whole story and to apologise for leaving his club in the lurch like that.

He thanked me for what I had done to the club in the short time I was there, and hand on heart we both shed a tear or two as we knew our paths may never cross again. He said that he felt he owed me a great deal for last seasons performance and if there was anything he could do for me, I just had to say the word.

I told him of a man I know, who travelled a long way with no money, no home, no family and nothing but a drive and determination to succeed. Tony should ignore him, and instead look out for a man called Steve. He should take him on as their new manager because he needs something to keep him from jumping off the nearest bridge.

Tony said he'd grant my wishes, and we left on good terms. My phone call to Steve was to check he was settling in okay in his new job, and to wish him all the best. But wait... what's that? He never got the job? You mean Tony went back on his promise to me? Why the little scumbag!

Hehehehe. Simply brilliant.

22nd October 2006.

The season has ended and we finished 4th in the league which is absolutely fantastic and I feel over the moon right now. We might have sneaked 3rd had we not conceded a very late goal to draw 1-1 with Frigg. This is far better than anyone associated with the club could have imagined and we thoroughly deserved the p*ss up we had last night.

This has been my best run of results since being in management and although we didn't win our last game, our goal was one of the best I had seen since my time here. It was a team effort with some slick passes. I asked someone in the crowd if they knew if the game was being recorded but they laughed at me. I guess games this low down don't get the coverage that I feel they deserve.

Career statistics so far:<UL TYPE=SQUARE>

<LI>Played 29, Won 13, Drawn 7, Lost 9.

At the end of this season we were the number one team on form. Winning four and drawing one of our last 5 games. In fact, since I arrived and forgetting that 6-0 defeat, we've been unbeaten during my reign. Not bad, not bad at all.

It's too expensive to fly back home right now so I'm planing on going sightseeing whilst the team are on holiday. I haven't really explored Norway much since I came here but I'm determined to see what the place is like, and also check out what other football clubs there are around here. It's not been long but I feel more settled here than I did in England. I think it's to do with the media being less arrogant about their national team. Probably because the Norwegian team is really crap just now.

I asked the chairman how many weeks we've got until we've to start getting the lads ready for the next season. We don't start again until May! But pre-season starts again in December. Christmas day to be exact. Bit of a p*ss-poor time to start if I'm honest, but hey! We've got 4 months of training? Come next season I'm going to have a team full of super-fit athletes. Promotion here we come!

25th October 2006.

Message from Steve. He pawned his mobile off a month ago to get money for some food. He's now living off Salvation Army soup and busking every day to keep himself from starving. When I told him about the job at Farnborough he burst into tears and hung up. Poor lad. If only he had kept his mobile he may have a managers job now (joke).

19th November 2006.

Hello from Drøbak! It's nice and sunny here, if a bit cold (think my knob has fallen off, been p*ssing icicles the last fortnight).

Okay, so yeah, I didn't travel outside the town but that's down to lack of funds rather than being a lazy arse. Really need to start saving the money up as I don't fancy living the same life I did this time last year.

I've done a wee bit of networking, and I've become quite a local celebrity around here. I've yet to receive any freebies like a power-shower or a bag of coal or something but it's only a matter of time. I'm known as “Scotchman†around here. The locals seem to think that's my favourite tipple. I thought I'd play a wee joke on them and asked for some Bacardi Breezers instead. As well as been stung for the equivalent of five quid a bottle, I got hit on by some fat b****rd in a string vest. And it wasn't Rab C Nesbitt. Turns out I had been frequenting a gay bar for the last week. In fact, the amount of gay people in Drøbak averages more per hundred people than anywhere else in Norway. Did you know that? Because I f***ing didn't. Did I!

I've found the place to be very warm and welcoming, albeit there are far too many old people, a bit disappointing as I wanted to show the Norse women why Scottish beef is renowned throughout Europe. I'm telling you, once a lass gets their gums around those plums they don't go back.

There are a number of youth teams that play through the winter months, not as many as play during spring/summer of course, but the youth players that play in winter are more likely to be snapped up by clubs around these divisions because our season is just starting and these young guys are already fit and can give a great boost to the start to your season.

Unfortunately we'll never know how good these kids are as I sent my scout over to the UK over the winter break to have a look for players and I can't be arsed heading to watch them as I have to pass that gay bar to get to the fields. Getting taunted and called “Scotty Poof†whilst they all slap their arses in a bucking-bronko fashion isn't nice. I shouldn't have to deal with that, and will probably go to the police about it at some point.

21st December 2006.

Spending Christmas here isn't all that bad I suppose. There is a great sense of community about the place and I've been doing my bit with a few of the more well-known players we have on the books visiting the sick children in hospital. I feel really privileged to be a part of this, and a few photographs were taken. They were only for the local newspaper but I hear it goes out to about a dozen different towns around this area so at least my face is getting seen by more people. Oh, and the kids, I'm helping the kids too. Most important.

I'm spending Christmas dinner at the club, a kind of half corporate dinner, half dinner with the chairman and his wife. It's really nice to be a part of something like that, I just hope I don't embarrass myself as I don't know much about stocks and shares and the positions of the markets etc.

The Chairman Lennart Beijer (I call him Lenny) said I was more than welcome to bring a guest and like a fool I said to keep a spare seat at our table as I'd be more than happy to bring someone along.

She was 50, and the best I could do on such short notice. I've never met anyone that can smell of dog hairs even though they don't own a dog, it was amazing. Every so often she'd burst into a broken English version of Imagine by John Lennon. I could cope with that, but she was foot stomping and trying (badly I might add) to play the spoons. She only did this when I was getting into a conversation with other people.

I did well with the sponsors when it came to talking money. I just nodded, did the “uh huh, oh really, yeah, I had heard that mmm-hmm†kind of vague talking as well as the tut-tutting when it seemed appropriate. No raised eyebrows, no look of confusion on their faces, I pulled it off. Well done Dave!

There was a wee bit of dancing going on, which to my utter disbelief wasn't like traditional dancing like the kind you get back home at Christmas. Nah, this lot danced to reggae. REGGAE!!! They had a tape player in the corner, stuck it on and we had 2 hours of the stuff. Not wanting to look out of place, myself and the wrinkly dog-smelling wierdo got up and tried our best. I've never heard John Lennon sung in a more bizarre situation before. Freakily the drums gave it a more modern feel, and it crazily worked! It's tradition to do this every year Lenny says. Because the club was founded by a “jungle man†(his words, not mine) almost 80 years ago, we had to pay respects to him.

The closest thing I can compare this to is that Fat Boy Slim song with whatshisname from Batman Returns in it. It was that sort of dancing, in that sort of suit and tie. And these guys were no spring chickens. They made dear old b*ll*ck-breath seem like a mere teenager.

I've never had a Christmas like it.

3rd January 2007

My head feels like it's been belted over the head by a brick wall. I've very little recollection over the last fortnight after our Christmas party. Although I did wake up the next morning with a condom stuck to my face. Without thinking I threw it straight out of my bedroom window, now I'm worried if I used it on that 50 year or worse yet, someone used it on me!

I crawled out of my bed and looked down at the floor, there was empty bottles everywhere. The worrying thing was none of it was alcohol. It was Calpol. That stuff you give kids when they are ill. No wonder my head hurt. I think I must have drunk 10 bottles of the stuff.

At about 11am I made my way out of the house to get some bread and milk. On my way I had to pass that gay bar. Being early in the morning it was pretty empty but the regulars were out in force, still celebrating the new year. I bet they've not even been home yet.

Lenny, the chairman was in the shop picking up some things as well. He seemed very chirpy and greeted me with a wink and a smile. There was something not quite right about a man acknowledging another man in that way. I smiled back and shuffled over to the dairy section, trying to make sure I was hidden from his view.

I pretended to look at the calories in a fruit yoghurt whilst glancing to see if he was looking at me. I caught him looking over then giving a wave. Bugger waving back I thought.

At 2pm I crawled back into bed to try and shift my headache. It didn't pass, and it's now just going on 11pm as I'm writing this entry. I haven't tidied up yet, I'm leaving the place exactly as is to see if it can jog my memory on anything.

10th January 2007

First day back at training today. Until now I'd managed to avoid Lenny but I knew he'd be at the sports complex to greet the team as they arrived one by one. I had noticed him standing at the front door, suit and tie on, all smiles and handshakes to all the players.

I suppose it was a nice idea, to make the players feel more attached to the club, to show that the chairman cared about the place and the staff, but it kept niggling in the back of my mind – was he scouting for another victim of Calpol induces homosexual shenanigans? In a way I hoped so. It would let me off the hook. I could be one if his notches on the bedpost and nothing further.

Training went alright, there was no laughing and joking in the morning. I wanted to drill it into the lads heads that we were gunning for promotion this year. It's better to think ultra-positive in situations where you're trying to avoid relegation. Raise the bar even higher to push you to give an extra effort in games.

Most of the lads were in good shape, better than they had been when I had come in. They were definitely up for it this season. I have a good feeling that we could shock a few people if we steer clear of injuries.

24th January 2007

“Dear Dave,

Thank you very much for your letter you sent to us. As you can no doubt understand, we get lots and lots of letters from people from all over the UK and because we always try to send out a personal response letter back it takes a while for us to get through them all.

Unfortunately, Jim'll Fix It is no longer on the air, so you're request to be the manager of a football club for a day can not be fulfilled. We thank you for your letter and hope that you managed to live your dream out through other means.

Claire Gibbons

Head of Childrens Entertainment

British Broadcasting Corporationâ€

I forgive you Jim.

16th February 2007

I've had a very strange couple of days dear diary. First off, on the 14th I get a note through the door just with a big X on it. I didn't click straight away that it was Valentines Day so it puzzled me for a good while until I clicked. Then on the 15th I get ten more through the door. ONE EVERY HOUR!!!

I have no idea what's going on, but it freaked me out enough to contact Lenny on his mobile to find out where he was and what he was up to just as the eighth one popped through my door. I realised my mistake of contacting him too late as he said he was thrilled to be getting a personal call from me. I had to make an excuse to hang up on him. I fobbed him off some rubbish about a fat dog has just crashed through my roof and I needed to make sure it was okay. He sounded quite stunned about it, as you would do if someone broke that sort of news to you.

So it wasn't Lenny, I worked out. Who was it? I didn't dare ask around the town in case they all thought I was nuts, or hell, maybe it's just another of those bizarre “Jungle Man†rituals the club has every year. I'll keep you posted.

3rd March 2007

Nothing has come through for over 2 weeks now, so I'm putting it down to some kids that have nothing better to do with their time than mess around. I bet they're kids from another town, fans of one of our rival clubs. Once I find out who they were I'll hammer their team 10-0 or something pretty damn close to that.

We've completed our pre-season friendlies now. Most were against higher opposition and whilst we only won one of our four games, we played pretty well in all but one of them. Our fitness levels over 90 minutes are quite low just now, despite being in good physical shape, and I can't help but thinking we should have had a few more games before the season started.

There was sad news for me today too. Do you remember Steve? Myself and him were having a competition to find out who could earn the most money in our careers as managers. Well after losing his job, his wife, his house and eventually his car the inevitable happened. He took a job at Stenhousemuir. Their in the 3rd division in Scotland for crying out loud, and he's on LESS than he was at Clyde. HAHAHAHAHAHA, I'm actually laughing through my fingers. Watch. HAHAHAHAHAAAAA. That was a long laugh. AHA. That was me finishing my laugh.

I got in contact with him last week as he was staying in my flat. He's now living with 5 students. Yes, all in my flat. I told him that the flat was due to be vacated shortly and you got the feeling that just when he was finding his feet, I had pulled the rug out from beneath him.

Feeling sorry for him, I phoned up Stenhousemuir and asked if they'd be willing to let me have the services of Steve out here in Norway. I was told they'd gladly let him go, and that was by the secretary! Well, that was my good dead I thought, and next week, Steve should have a contract offer to join me out here. It's the least I could do for a mate really.

26th March 2007

Well it's been sorted. Steve is now a coach with us out here, and I immediately made sure he knew who was boss by making him put out the cones in the rain. He complained that it was the young lads that did this after their under-21 training was over so I gave him a big speech about how I've been here longer than him and that this was the way I do things around here. My assistant, the little swine, didn't back me up and went to help Steve out with the cones, giving a sly look back in disgust at me. I showed him the finger, smiled and went back into my office.

After setting out the cones, Steve came in to chat. We caught up with what we'd both been up to since we completed our coaching badges, me trying to skip past all his bad times, him trying to skip over all my good times in case it sent him into a deeply depressive mind-set. So for 2 hours of conversation we talked for only 10 minutes, the rest of time just standing in silence, staring out of the window oggling any nice women that happened to pass by.

Though he didn't say anything, I knew he was grateful to me for giving him a break out here. A fresh start. I felt like God.

I stayed on late at the club, just organising the training for tomorrow. It was about 10pm before I left the stadium and wandered along the road. Steve was staying at mine for the near future, and I told him to make the place his own. Boy did he make it his own.

I caught him in my bed, arse raised to the roof, going full throttle at a very happy club chairman.

Some of you may have read this story elsewhere, but I wanted to post it here too for your enjoyment. When updating it I'll be editing my original post to keep things together, and post a note to say what dates have been added

Update: 3rd January 2007 - 26th March 2007

Check original post to view.

HAHA This is Great stuff, brilliant! really funny! it took me almost 30 minutes to read all that but it was worth it! Brilliant cant wait for an update! Well done

Glad you enjoyed it tom. I'm trying to do about a page or two of A4 as updates as any less isn't really worth reading in my opinion. I'll try and get the next update before the weekend.

cool brillaint ill look out for it

Can't wait. It's a little creepy, but funny. I'll be reading.

Creepy? In what way?

The next installment could be up tonight all going well.

7th April 2007

Lenny and Steve were quite the odd couple. Steve was a worrier. Not just a standard worrier, he always thought the worst. For example, just the other day he caught sight of a stray thread on his shoulder, instantly he took the shirt off and binned it. Reason? “By afternoon the whole sleeve will have come apartâ€. I mean, my god. He's once been known to worry about an overnight storm. He stayed up all night because he thought if it continued, he may have been drowned in his sleep. This was the tip of the iceberg. Is it any wonder he ended up the way he has done?

Lenny.. Lenny was Lenny. Nothing troubled him. He was doing the job he loved, lived in a large house just south of the town and drove to work along a private road he got built for himself. He had it easy did Lenny. If there was a nuclear war on he'd be smoking a cigar in a bunker somewhere shrugging his shoulders and checking to see if anything interesting was on the box.

I cornered Steve one night – in fact, the ONLY night – Lenny wasn't round. I asked what was going on, since when did he come out of the closet? And more importantly, did Lenny have anything to say about me and him at Christmas. Nothing it turned out, he didn't mention one thing about me. Part of me was relieved, another part of me was a bit p*ssed off. Did I really mean that little to him? Never mind if I was gay/bi or straight (I'm straight) I still felt a bit rejected.

Steve sat down and told me about how his relationship with his ex all fell apart. It was him that ran off with another man, and not his other half running off with the hop-along lesbian. When I decided to stay on at the club, Lenny invited him out for a drink just to get to know him better. One thing led to another so he says (just how does one thing lead to another within the space of a few pints???) and they ended up back in my room. Then Steve leaned back and gazed into a world that was a million miles from here, he looked so happy that I wish I was in the same place with him. He stroked the side of his face, as if to mimic an action that reminded him of the balding chairman. Lenny has a smooth face so I'm told. And then I got told of other parts of him that were smooth also. It was enough to almost bring up the peperoni pizza I had earlier in the evening.

As long as he's happy I don't suppose I've got a problem. I just hope this doesn't affect me being manager of the club. What if I had a bad run of games, would Steve be told that if he played nicely and let Lenny tie him up every so often that the job would be his within a click of the fingers? Suddenly I'm feeling a lot of extra pressure.

15th April 2007

The riddle of the crosses has been solved!!!

I was preparing breakfast in the kitchen in the morning, before I headed to the stadium for our first game of the season and I heard the letterbox creaking open. I raced to the front door and opened it to see who it was, as the postman only comes at midday, if at all.

I was ready to give this person the biggest b*ll*cking imaginable for messing about sending gibberish through my letterbox when the biggest, (and I mean big) meanest looking bloke stared right back down at me. Correction, he looked into me. He looked into my soul, and beat it to death with no more than the heavy breathing that flared his nostrels. My knees went, I couldn't get words out, and I knew if the silence continued any longer he could probably make out the faint sound of someone absolutely cacking themselves.

He handed over the bit of paper with the cross on it. Then stood. Did he want me to speak? Was I to thank him for this? Thank him for what exactly?

I looked a the cross, trying so damn hard to decipher it. I wanted to know what the hell this was all about before I surrendered to the inevitable beating I was to receive. One big X. That's all it was. Was this his signature I wondered? Ha! Good joke Dave. Unwittingly I let out a light sn***er. Oops. Big mistake!

“My mother wishes you luck this season.†He said to me with absolutely no emotion whatsoever.

“Pardon me?†I replied. Well, I say replied, I think I squeaked something out so high pitched that to a dolphin it might have sounded vaguely like an attempt at communication.

“My mother. She made you these. It is the flag of Scotland yes?â€

Of course! Oh for the love of new born babies! The friggin' Scotland flag. How could I not instantly see that with my crappy human eyes? Yes, I see now. That big pencilled shoogily letter X, drawn in a big thick purple crayon, on a white bit of paper, yes.. that's EXACTLY how the Scotland flag looks.

I thanked him and closed the door. I looked down at the bit of paper I had been handed. Jesus f***ing Christ. How dotty was this woman?

We won our first game of the season 2-1 incidentally. Now I'm not usually one for superstitions, but I really wanted to track down this woman and give her one tremendous slobbering kiss on the lips!

30th April 2007

The main European leagues are coming to the end of their seasons now, and after checking the league tables on the internet earlier on it made me a bit homesick. I wondered how everyone was doing in Inverness. How were Jeff and Margaret? My god, I haven't spoken to them in ages! I'll need to give them a call sometime.

The draw for the first round of the Norwegian Cup was made today. In the league we've played 3 and won 2, so I was confident that as long as we avoided anyone in divisions above us, we'd be well placed to progress to at least the second round.

There are close to 120 teams that take part so watching the draw (I was in the audience) was a bit of a bore. I stuck on my iPod and listened to a few of my favourite tunes whilst they got on with it.

Really, why they can't make it a randomly generated computer printout is a bit beyond me. Sure for the quarter finals onwards make it a draw with names out of the hat, but for the first round just throw teams together. We're all at the same level roughly.

With 40 teams left to draw my iPod decided to cut out. The left ear-piece wasn't working right. I had to fashion my whole upper body into some sort of shape that resembled a painting by Picasso to bend the wire in such a way that it cackled into life again.

It was most uncomfortable so I just turned it off and chucked it onto the seat next to me. b****rd contraptions. We've come a long way since gramophones and vinyl but the idiots at Sony etc still haven't worked out how to stop a wire falling out of an earpiece!

A further 20 minutes passed before we found out we had drawn FC Lyn Oslo of the first division. I'd never heard of them, and that can only be a good thing couldn't it? It's like the Champions League draws where you get some team from Latvia or Bosnia against you. This game had 5-0 written all over it.

7th May 2007

Myself, Steve and Lenny (groan) went out for a few pints today. We were keeping training light because of the upcoming game against Oslo. We didn't want too many injuries so we let the lads off at just after 1pm.

We went to this bar Lenny knew, which amazingly wasn't a gay bar as I thought it was. It was about half an hours drive from the stadium and was really nice. It had that “ye olde inn†décor that is more expected of the English pubs than what I'd expect to find out here going by previous experience around Norway.

The locals all knew Lenny, and greeted him warmly. We were introduced to them all. There was Pete, he was old. Older than anyone else I think I've met in my life. Mary – she ran the place. She was in her mid 50's I guessed, seemed nice enough. Tom – one of Pete's friends, Pete's wife Jane who was well under half Pete's age. Me thinks that Pete has himself a lot of money and that he's going to the land of eternal sleep quite shortly.

Jane was actually checking out Steve quite admiringly when he walked in. Bitch. Just my luck, not just my best mate, but my gay best mate was getting the attention of the only half decent looking female in the area. Why do I have such rotten luck with women????

We tried this beer called Bokkøl which was strong stuff. About 7% I think Lenny said it was. It tasted different to anything I've had before, but after 5 more trips to the bar had firmly established itself as my new favourite drink out here in Norway.

I got to know Lenny a lot better while we were sat around the table. He had never been married it turns out, but he had 2 kids. Both were in their late teens but he rarely saw them. Their last visit to him was 5 years ago at christmas. They don't call him "dad" anymore either which really did look as though it upset him.

He'd been in charge of the football club since his girlfriend ran off with the kids. He needed something to fill the void in his life, but you could still tell that something was missing. Steve, bless him, was fast asleep, head right back over the back of the chair, snoring his face off. He had this very bad habit of drinking slowly, which in turn made him very drowsy. We'd only had the 3 pints before he slipped into the land of nod occasionly dribbling down his top.

I managed to bring up the subject of my Calpol drinking over the New Year. Lenny couldn't stop laughing. Apparently all the staff at the club on the night out had managed to convince me that Calpol and vodka was some sort of drink that meant in the morning you'd have no hangover. I must have been that drunk that I believed them. I was about to ask about the condom on my face but by then he was up and away talking to Mary at the bar. Drat! I'll need to corner him another time.

I tried my best to wake Steve up. Light slaps across the face didn't work, holding his nose shut didn't work, I was even tempted to smack him one between the legs but I chickened out at the last minute. Wouldn't be fair on Lenny, and I didn't fancy turning up to work with a frustrated chairman eye-balling me.

I heard the bell that signalled that it was last orders and I looked into my wallet. Nothing. That wasn't a good sign. I wouldn't be getting paid until a further 5 days time. I dipped into Steve's pocket to see if he had his wallet with him but the bugger woke up. Typical.

9th May 2007

Our game in Oslo (we were playing Lyn, crap name for a team isn't it?) didn't go as well as I had hoped. We had been riding on the crest of a wave over the last wee while and had climbed to 4th in the league but we've developed a nasty habit for getting defenders sent off.

Today was no exception. And after 10 minutes, our centre-back Malmo saw red and we just couldn't cope with the Lyn attacks. We went in at the break 2-0 down and it was the first time since being there I just didn't know what to say to the team. They had tried so hard that it would have been an injustice to them if I had to tell them it wasn't good enough. I told them anyway. I'm desperate to win all of my games, and even against supposed superior opposition, I still demanded an extra 10% from my players.

We battled superbly for 20 minutes of the second half, even creating 3 or 4 chances. But they hit us on the counter to make it 3-0, and when we got another player sent off... well that was game, set and match to Lyn.

Love it...

Great! Is there some awards for the best story? if there is enter this! its brilliant

can i just ask.... when is the next installment due?

Possibly tonight, possibly wednesday depending how I get on tonight. Got to tidy my flat up a bit.

No offence or anything, but htf can someone who's been registered for about 3 weeks possibly feel they've read enough to nominate anything as best story?

Good read though, even if the whole 'gay chairman' thing is a bit of a cliche.

What do you mean you've never heard of the 'gay chairman cliche'?

haha hilarious mate had me laffin neway, well done keep it up, at sure nomination for best story

no offence taken HD just that out of about the 30 stories i have read this is the best and most enjoyable.

13th May 2007

Got an email this morning. From River! My application to become their new manager has been unsuccessful it says. Well I never! If it took any longer to send me a reply I would have been on my pension.

I'm a bit gutted they didn't call me in for an interview though. Perhaps I'm just not ready to take on a higher profile job, and if truth be told I quite like Norway.

Our last 5 league games have seen us go unbeaten, and we've been unlucky not to win 2 out of the 3 we've drawn, conceding late goals in both games. I'm not sure if it's a case of us punching above our weight or if it's actually us playing well under my management.

What was it that they say? "Judge a manager over a course of a season and not over a few games." I'm beginning to see where they are coming from.

Read on the internet that the Rangers board may be getting a bit unhappy with their manager at the moment, not producing the results I think. Was really tempted to throw my hat into the rung, but on paper I don't think I've got enough experience yet.

20th May 2007

Well diary, our fine run has come to an end. Our first defeat in 12 games, which has gone some way to confound the critics that said we'd be a side struggling at the bottom of the league. We're 6th right now, sitting in the top half.

Earlier today I made contact with Dwight Yorkes agent. We really need someone to come in and give the team some extra oomph, as I said in a previous entry that the games we were losing were just by a nat's pube and if we got someone with an added edge then results could swing our way.

I'm not sure if we can afford the lads wages but it's worth a shot. And perhaps announcing that we are in talks with such a player might just raise the morale a bit to stop us getting a wee bit down after having a run like that end.

The best thing to do in such situations is to pick yourself up immediately.

23rd May 2007

The bastard rejected the contract.

16th June 2007

My Norwegian is certainly not the best. I can get the basics out. You know, "hello" and "goodbye", but other than that it's a real struggle. I'm lucky that most of the town speak at least a broken version of English, so I'm able to get by.

Over the last 2 months I've been taking Norwegian classes. Now, there aren't actually any schools/colleges/courses out here that teach such a language as it's already spoken fluently by all the natives. So I had two choices, either spend two years in an infancts school grasping the basics, or get a private tutor. I took the tutor option.

"et øyeblikk" – that means one moment please.

"Jeg har gått meg bort" - meaning I'm Lost. I tend to use this phrase quite often.

"En, To, Tre" - that means 1,2,3.

Those three phrases took about 4 hours to master. Glad I've got a 3 year contract at this club. Might learn something useful in that time!

On my way back from my class (yeah, great private tutor eh, I have to go and see HIM!) I stopped off at the club to check my emails. I didn't intend on staying on, just a quick glance over my inbox to see if there was anything that needed my immediate attention.

There was one from a mate of mine back home. Just asking how things were.. blah, blah, blah... Rangers won the league again (I already knew this), blah, blah, blah... Jeff in hospital... blah, blah, blah... tumor....

It didn't hit me straight away. I was still in my own wee world trying to work out the correct translation of “Where can I find a healthy mule†that I brushed over it and carried on to the end of the email.

I blinked, a kind of an instinct reaction to flush my mind and get my brain to prioritise again. “Jeff... hospital.. tumorâ€. Those 3 words together didn't exactly fill me with joy. I made a note of the contact number and headed off home.

Edit: “Hvor kan jeg finner en sunn muldyr?†is the answer by the way.

24th June 2007

Jeff has a brain tumor.

I called Margaret earlier last week to find out what was going on and she filled me in on the details. He had gone to watch the under-12's at the school as normal and collapsed suddenly. It's fairly well developed now, and they are saying surgery is highly unlikely.

Steve has been really cut up about it, and he's been given leave for a few days so he can take some time out. Both Margaret and Jeff have looked after Steve when I left to Farnborough and they're like family to him now. Lenny's offered to fly us out back to Scotland as we can't afford to do it alone on the wages we're on but I've declined the offer as I feel I need to stay on here and carry on my work as I believe it's what Jeff would have wanted . Steve's still considering flying back home.

The doctors haven't given a rough date on when we can expect any developments but we've been told to prepare for the worst. Poor Margaret, she's such a fragile wee soul, and there's really no-one else around the area that she speaks to. Jeff was always the one that chatted to the neighbours and got involved with the community. Margaret on the other hand just kept herself to herself, quite content to let her husband of 40 years have enough fun for the both of them.

Our thoughts are with you Margaret, let's hope Jeff pulls through this.

Vi tror

Shorter entry than normal tonight. Had planned for a longer one but scouring Google for stuff to do with Norway took it's time

crackin story this mate, jus wondered hu wud ya say is the best team to go on footy manager

Not really the place to ask, and to be honest it all depends on what you are looking for. I like the challenges of the game so I tend to start unemployed and just see where the game takes me, much like this story.

Each league has it's own challenges, you're best asking this question in the General Discussion for Football Manager 2006 forum.

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by tom q:

no offence taken HD just that out of about the 30 stories i have read this is the best and most enjoyable. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

That's fair enough. I just tend to be cynical when stories from other boards are reproduced and people who haven't been visible on the forum much or for long show up proclaiming it the best thing ever.

It's a decent story.

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by HD:

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by tom q:

no offence taken HD just that out of about the 30 stories i have read this is the best and most enjoyable. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

That's fair enough. I just tend to be cynical when stories from other boards are reproduced and people who haven't been visible on the forum much or for long show up proclaiming it the best thing ever.

It's a decent story. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

TBF the tom guy merely stated that if there were awards for best story then this should be entered which is fine and the only problem I have with that is that as far as this forum is concerned this story is like what three posts long and to suggest it for best story is ridiculous. (I don't care if its been posted elsehwere that doesnt count here)

But anyway, it is a decent start so lets let the bloke get on with it

This is so weird.

I like it

Just read through this. I don't find it strange at all. It's just diary entries, a style we've seen before on here. Having said that, this is one of the best, and most realistic of that sub-genre. I had to chuckle at the "defrost freezer" item in the first post as I have similar trouble with my freezer.

In short, if this keeps going it might well get a nomination for an award at the least.

And Tom, do your homework, we do have awards here.

1st July 2007

It was open day here at the stadium. Since our season started at such an unusual time, open days had to be held half way through the year because doing it at any other time of year would just be too darn cold.

Lenny had managed to get his local to lay on some sandwhiches and we had a bouncy castle donated by the church (don't ask why they have a bouncy castle, they just do) so the kids had something to do if they didn't want to meet any of the players.

It was an extremely informal gathering. The players chatted freely with other families, they took part in the games we had provided, but the competitive edge was still there. In the father/son Twister game we had, our goalkeeper and his lad won it hands down. He'd been in doing an extra half hour of stretches after training at night, and here was me thinking he was putting in the extra effort in preperation for our upcoming games!

Steve had flown over to Scotland 2 days ago to see how Jeff was doing. As far as I knew there was no change in his condition. I mingled about the families, sponsors and players wondering if I had really made the right decision in staying behind. The club is going through one of it's best runs in recent history, leaving now could mean that all that work could be undone. I was stuck between a close friend and what seemed like a bid to further my career. I felt selfish.

The highlight of the open day was of course the "Beat the Goalie" competition. Each goal that we let in, we'd give the kids €10. All out of Lenny's pocket thankfully! Up stepped our goalkeeper, fresh from victory in the crab-walking race, ready to make it a hat-trick of successes.

Now, normally, from what I've seen of these types of events, the club would supply one of those kiddies goals. One that's about half the size of the original and made of plastic or perhaps even one of those blow-up ones. This was for 2 reasons. Firstly, it looked a lot more fun, and second... well half the size meant we'd let in half the amount of goals, and that in turn meant dishing out less money to the children.

For a reason best known to our goalkeeper, he had spent all of yesterday preparing some sort of wooden frame complete with fishing nets, and this morning he let his 2 kids paint it shades of freakish reds and oranges and yellows. It looked like the gateway to hell. It was in fact, the frame for our goals.

Up stepped kid number one. I can't remember his name, but I remember he had glasses. That fact isn't important, I just thought I'd throw it in to the diary.

I stood and watched as the wee 10 year old made his run up. I looked to my side and noticed there was a bloke making notes. A scout?! What does that say about the level of football here when you've been reduced to scouting fat 10 year olds at a "Beat the Goalie" comp.?

Lenny had by now already opened his wallet. To be fair, I didn't blame him really. Despite having the best goal scoring rate in the division, we also had one of the worst goals conceded figure in the division. And it was all down to this goalkeeper. Now, I wouldn't say he was rubbish, I am his manager after all. But let's say that missing a thumb on one of your hands doesn't help you to catch a ball cleanly.

Five shots, five goals. Lenny was looking worried. We had another 5 kids to go up and the goalie had changed his gloves twice. He had run out of things to blame. He would shortly have to live with the fact that even his own son had lost respect for him.

The scout on my left was now talking to a few of the childrens parents to see if he could take them to whatever club he was from. Our goalkeeper was beginning to make even the most rubbish of penalty takers look like they had the graceful footwork of Maradona. To him, these 10-15 year olds stroked the ball with such a delicate touch it was like they treated the football like a priceless Faberge egg wrapped in motion sensitive explosives, carrying a soundly sleeping newborn baby inside. If he had the time and the money, he'd turn this one kick into a theatrical play, a performance deserving of such a penalty kick. Really, our keeper was THAT bad today.

Just as kid number 8 stepped up to the penalty spot ready to claim his winnings, our man between the sticks caught sight of one of his sons out of the corner of his eye. He gave a smile and waved over. The son waved back then turned to get some candyfloss. Kid number 8 kicks the ball, our keeper is still in mid wave, the ball is thundering near towards the top left corner (it was a nice kick to be fair), and our keeper, out of pure instinct dives to save it.

Now, as it was an instinctive save, our goalie dived full stretch to save the ball. The ball was going well wide, but in his mind it was going to end up in the back of the net. The goals being half the size of normal ones meant his maths wasn't entirely correct. WHACK! His head smacked into the solid pine frame. He collapsed in a heap unconscious.

He's out of our squad for the next week with concussion.

The head injury of our keeper brought back thoughts of Jeff. I've booked a flight for tomorrow morning.

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Caleyjag:

Not really the place to ask, and to be honest it all depends on what you are looking for. I like the challenges of the game so I tend to start unemployed and just see where the game takes me, much like this story.

Each league has it's own challenges, you're best asking this question in the General Discussion for Football Manager 2006 forum. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

kk thanks mate, will do that this story is great

LOL great stuff again! well done mate keep it up!

3rd July 2007

I spent all of yesterday helping Margaret around the house. The place wasn't exactly messy, but I was doing my best to warrant my stay in her guest room for the next few days. Their house never had that funny smell that normally greets you in an old person’s house. Biscuits were always a favourite aroma of the pensioner around houses I'd visited in the past - probably down to the endless supply of the stuff that they keep for when they have guests, however this house just smelt of oranges for some reason.

Margaret was doing her best to look like everything was alright, but her attempts to mask her emotions just served to amplify how hard Jeff's condition had hit her. Her face was more drawn and paler than I remembered, she looked as ill as I imagined Jeff to be. She had very little food in the house, so I took her out to get some groceries and a few other essentials. I wanted to take her mind off it all, even just slightly, just enough to allow her mind some time off after being in overdrive for the last wee while.

Every Tuesday is the European Markets in Inverness. Traders come from around the union to give us all tastes of what life in other countries are like. I hunted out for the Norwegian stand to see if they had anything of interest that I could brag to Margaret about, but remembering the reason I was here I skipped past and didn't say anything, instead we went to Marks & Spencer to do our shopping.

Jeff's condition had improved very slightly over the last 24 hours. He was still in a lot of pain however, and was pumped full of morphine. Steve said this made communicating with him very hard, and made the doctor’s job twice as difficult to determine if his pain was getting worse or if it was still at the same level. Steve had been at the hospital overnight, allowing Margaret to go home and get some rest, as she hadn't been home in a good few days. It was a nice gesture from Steve, but I knew his reason for staying was borne from the fact that he had nowhere else to stay, and was too polite to ask Margaret for a bed for the night.

At about 5pm I got a call from Lenny. We were drawing 0-0 in our midweek game against Frigg and wanted to know if I wanted to speak to the assistant manager about making some tactical switches. I knew fine he was checking up on myself and Steve to find out when we were coming back - more so Steve - so I told him that I was sure that the assistant knew what he was doing and that we'd be back Thursday evening in Oslo and back in town early Friday morning. We lost our game 2-0 by the way. ****ing arse.

Visiting hours at the hospital were between 6pm and 8pm so myself & Margaret walked along the road seeing as it was only 5 minutes away and it was a nice evening. We met Steve outside having a cigarette. Steve doesn't smoke. Ever. With the recent result back home not going our way I was still pretty angry (I always am after losing) and took the cigarette from his hand and rammed it forcefully against his jacket, singing a nice black hole near his pocket. Throwing the cigarette to the ground I then pushed him backwards. Steve stumbled slightly, and fell onto his arse. Pointing a finger at him I told him if I ever caught him smoking again I'd slice his balls off in the middle of the night. He didn't say anything, just got up and wiped his jacket down and joined us by the entrance.

Jeff was on a heart monitor, and thankfully was conscious. The level of morphine in his blood was such that he was pretty much away with it but he recognised us all. Even if it was with a slight nod of the head to say "hi". When Margaret sat beside him you could see him try to force out a smile. It was such a touching moment, never before have I seen such a small movement mean so much to one person. Margaret smiled back before collapsing on top of Jeff and burst into tears.

Myself and Steve just didn't know what to do. We looked at one another, both waiting for the other one to say or do something but we both sat inanimate. It was probably best for Margaret to just let it all out, she'd been bottling it all up for so long now. Jeff comforted his wife, his breathing remained slow and deep throughout, it was hard to tell if this was down to the morphine slowing down his body or because he felt he needed to act strong for Margaret. I hoped it was the latter.

An hour later we left the hospital minus Margaret. She couldn't tear herself away from Jeff's bedside. I didn't want to ask for the key to her house so myself and Steve spent the rest of the night wandering around the town, most of it in silence thinking about one of the nicest and warm hearted blokes we'd both had the privilege of meeting.

Jeff passed away at 11:42pm.

its going a bit of the topic here mate, lets get back to the football, it wasa gd start tho

It's going off topic for a reason. The idea is to show that there is more to football than just the matches, there is the whole social and personal areas, things that happen behind the scenes that go some way to shaping your character and decisions you take.

Every footballing decision is taken via FM2006, so that game against Frigg we lost 2-0 in my last entry for example, well that was me on holiday mode, leaving the assistant in charge.

I'd rather have my stories peppered with characters backgrounds and events than do what other stories do - quote stats, list 50 players they signed in a day etc. That stuff bores me.

My keeper gets concussion because he got injured in training. What fun is that to write about? Creating this whole "Open Day" even was much more fun to write, and probably more entertaining to read

The football part is there, and more is coming up in my next few entries as we're approaching the end of the Norwegian season

Oh quieten down sam1001, this is a story forum, not a football forum. Stories aren't all about football you cretin.

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by sam1001:

its going a bit of the topic here mate, lets get back to the football, it wasa gd start tho </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Its not going off topic at all, you'll find there are a few writers who don't just write all about the football by try to bring in more of a story aspect, which is exactly what this forum is for.

I think its brilliant mate, well done keep it up! its better how you have wrote it because some stories get boring after 2 pages of just the manageing of the club. Its a proper story this way and more realistic.

RIP Jeff

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Mark Snellink:

RIP Jeff </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

I got quite emotional writing that entry truth be told

sorry boys

Now we're left to wonder, what will come of Margaret?

Keep up the good writing man

(Personally, I think she oughta come to Norway with you. Surely there's room for her there, somewhere. Just not in the cafeteria )

July 13th 2007

The march for promotion was on! Sitting pretty in 4th place, the club was just 6 points off acheiving the improbable and getting to first place. Not bad for odds-on favourites for the drop this year.

Going into this weekends game we had 4 suspended players, and our goalkeeper was milking his injury for all it was worth it seemed. He was sporting a rather fetching purple bruise down one side of his face but I felt his ego was more in pain than his head. He hadn't left his house for a week for fear of being ridiculed.

Steve and Lenny had nipped off for a walk, leaving the place free for myself to prepare for tomorrow afternoons game. This was now becoming a common ritual at weekends and I enjoyed it. Hearing them two slobbering over each other in the bedroom was helluva distracting when trying to sort out the team sheet for the day and a few times I had interupted them mid-...whatever to tell them to shut up and quit making such a racket.

Picking the team for the game is an art. It's not just looking at who plays the best in each position, give them each a shirt and tell them "off you go then, win 5-0 for daddy" (oh I wish!), there's a lot more skill involved. How did that player play over the last 5 games? Did our central defender get turned far too quickly when the opposition was on the break? How many shots were on target, how many off target, how many balls ended up in the sea? How are the other team lining up? Do they have someone we need to watch out for? Do they play the quick passing game? Do they lump long balls up to Giant Haystacks? How tall is Haystacks? Are our defenders to slight to cope with the presence of Haystacks? Just how many pies did our left winger eat? If he runs too much will he be sick?

Most of the team picks itself each week. Fylling up front has been phenomenal for us and I've been singing his praises for helping us get to where we are. 10 games and 8 goals. A tally many top strikers would be proud of. My only real concern was the defence. Malmo was an animal. I think he'd now had 4 red cards this season alone. Straight reds mind, not your double yellow business. I've fined him twice already this season, yet the message still hadn't got through to him. It's times like this I wished corporal punishment wasn't illegal. He needed a good whack about the head did that boy.

I text my assistant to get his opinion on it. Go with Malmo, the centre-back that is a rock in defence, but has a habit of getting into scrapes with the other teams forwards or go with Lien, who was sporadic to say the least. One day he'll play out of his skin, the other he might as well just curl up on the touchline and go to sleep he was that ineffective.

Text came back: "Tom". What a tube, both their names were Tom! I text him again but the message doesn't send. No signal. Friggin' signal! What is it with mobiles? Why does moving 5 inches suddenly make your phone think it's entered a 10 foot thick lead container?! I moved back 5 inches to my usual position. Signal still gone. I HATE PHONES! I ****ING HATE ****ING PHONES!

Signal returns, I try to send again, no credit. Typical. Ach to hell with it, Malmo gets the nod. We play half our games with 10 men anyway, why should we make an exeption this week?

I looked out of the window, it was indeed a nice day today. The thermometer was settling at 20 degrees although it says that every day I've looked at it. The barometer indicated a high chance of snow. I tapped it lightly, possibly a bit of dirt trapped by the hand. Nope. The hand was broken. Two taps had brought about it's downfall, as if I had the power to melt steel just by tapping a glass surface in front. Remarkable. This is a pet hate of mine by the way. Why do people just leave things un-mended. I've seen clocks hanging on walls with no batteries on them? Why do that? Why give guests the shitters thinking they're late for appointments when you know damn fine that that clock doesn't work! What's even more stupifying is when they ask for the time, this idiot will turn to look at the clock. Yes, the clock that DOES NOT WORK. The clock they know damn fine doesn't work!! GGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!

I took the barometer off the wall and hid it in a cupboard. Knowing Lenny, he'll blame me for breaking his barometer and get me to stump up the cash for a new one, so I took it back out of the cupboard and hid it under Steve's bed. Steve was a terrible liar, and what was even better was he looked like he was lying even when he was telling the truth. The buck had been passed firmly to him now, and glued to his face. Get out of that one. Mwahaha.

We're heading to the south of the country for our game tomorrow and need to stay overnight so I won't be taking my diary with me. Actually - we're spending the weekend there, so it'll be Monday before I update again. I'll let you know how we get on upon my return.

17th July 2007

We lost our game 1-0 unforunately. It was definately not the best of matches. One of our midfield players got send off for a rash challenge in the box, their player retaliated and ended up in an early bath also.

Two of our players came off with slight injuries, one was Tom Malmo. To be fair though, he wanted to play the full ninety despite twisting his ankle. I hooked him anyway. His ankle injury was down to trying to kick someone on the turn.

We've got 12 games left of the season, and we're doing well. That result puts us down 2 places however, and I've worked out we need a further 12 points to make sure we avoid relegation this year.

The weekend passed without incident thank God. Steve and Lenny had a small row about the barometer which ended up with Steve admitting he broke it just to keep the peace. What daggers I got off him later on though!

26th August 2007

Diary, this has been one of the worst run of results I think I've had in a while. We went 5 games without winning anything, despite scoring 6 goals. We're now slipping down the table and sit 7th. This is not on!

Although we are still looking a safe bet to stay up this year I want the players to realise that we can't just sit back once our goal has been acheived. I talked to Steve and he's putting them through a harder training session over the next month to make sure they realise what we expect off them.

23rd October 2007

"Ceeeeeeeeeeeeeelebrate good times COME ON!"

It's the end of the season and we've done it! We avoided relegation! Not only that but we finished 5th in the league, higher than anyone had predicted. Our last 7 games went almost according to plan after the debacle of last month. Played 7, won 5, drawn 1 and lost 1.

In fact, our last two games saw us run out 4-1 and 5-1 winners. It was an extra special moment to win so emphatically at home and the supporters were in full voice singing our praises. I've not been fortunate enough to experience such a response before. It was simply amazing.

The awards ceremony got under way earlier on this evening. Although there were no Manager of the Year trophies to be had (which I would have won!) there was a Top Goalgscorer award which went to our very own Per Kristian Fylling for his 22 goals in 25 games. A trully wonderful season. In his speech he paid tribute to yours trully as well. Nice touch Kris!

I tell you what though diary, despite not winning anything this season, despite only finishing 5th in the league – in fact 5th in the Second Division Group 1 which lets face it, isn't La Liga – I felt a great amount had been acheived in the space of a year.

I flicked through my diary this morning and thought about how niave I was back in 2005. I wanted the top job and I wanted it immediately. I wanted the money that goes along with it, the millions of pounds for transfers, yet here I am in Norway, on £80 a week and £254 (at last count) in the bank for player transfers wanting nothing more in the world.

It's down at this level I think you find the men that are the real managers. The ones that don't get satisfaction from signing an 18 year old for £10million just because Chelsea were sniffing about. No, these men get satisfaction from just getting through another season, by getting the best out of a team of part-timers, from integrating with the community, feeling part of a club.

Lenny's methods of getting close to all players and staff (too close at times) really does work. When you know you've got the solid backing of your chiarman, the improbable becomes the probable. This has felt like my first real break. f*** Farnborough, Drøbak/Frogn will be the name of my first club when it comes to writing my autobiography.

Yet, while I love this place and the people, there is still that nagging part of me that wants to return home to Inverness.

10th November 2007

It was the last day before the lads went off on holiday and we all decided to have a get-together in Lenny's local.

For some of the players, it would be the last time they'd be joining us as Drøbak/Frogn employees. In total we had 10 players being released on a free transfer, which alarmingly reduced our squad size to 14.

As manager, it was my job to give a speech, doing the usual thank you's and congratulations to the team on a job well done this season. My toast was interupted by cheers of "wa-hey" every time I tried to pronounce the clubs name in my best Norwegian accent. Bastards.

The fire was cackling nicely in the corner as the snow began to fall outside - the first snowfall this side of winter - giving the pub a greater sense of coziness. The jukebox cackled into life from hits of yesteryear making me feel like we were in a dress rehearsal for Whams next single.

Mary collected the glasses from our table every 20 minutes, faster than anyone could drink. It was a clever ploy to make us subconsciously drink faster so that we wouldn't feel bad when she came back over, so within 3 hours we were pretty sozzled. Steve resumed his favourite position of head back over the chair, snoaring away, with a trickle of drool working its way slowly down the corner of his mouth.

One of the more catchier songs came on the jukebox and by this point the players and their better halves were up onto whatever space was available to dance. Lenny came over and sat beside me, once again giving me a pat on the back and telling me well done.

My mind by this point was wandering and I wasn't paying attention to Lenny anymore. He could be harping on about how he was turning over his money to the club and that we'd have millions to spend next year, maybe he was giving me a huge payrise to try and scare off other clubs coming in for me. To be honest, I didn't care.

I wanted to go home. Norway is a lovely place, don't get me wrong. The people are so very friendly. And here I felt like I was part of the club, not just the manager but part of the foundations. And it was wrong, oh it was so, so wrong. Back home I would be the manager, and the players would know their place. If there was any sort of drinking involved, they'd be fined. If at the end of the season we were having a party, I'd turn up for an hour before leaving. I was their leader, I was not one of them.

Scotland was depressing, and I was a depressing person. I liked not having to say hello to random people in the street, I liked being able to get from A to B without telling 15 people how my day was and my isn't it cold today, yes that's winter coming in. I'd had enough of being all nice and happy. I wanted to be moody and miserable again.

Lenny did that annoying thing where he waved his hand in front of my face to get my attention. I hate that, I really hate that. I hate it more than clocks not working, I hate it more than people putting the heating on, then opening a window. I hate it more than blocked public toilets, I hate it more than when they do a news story about pigs that run away. THAT'S NOT NEWS!!!

I slapped his hand away, picked up my pint glass, smashed it on the table and glassed him in the face.

"Take that you annoying ****er!" I thought to myself. The dancing and music ceased simultaneously. How on earth do they do that? The dancing stopping, yes I can understand that, but the music? Just who is that person that bolts towards the jukebox and pulls the plug? You ever wondered that? And how do they get that job?

Lenny clutched his face, shaking he pulled away his hand to reveal a large cut just below his left eye. The players crowded round him, pulling him to his feet and sitting him back on his chair. Steve, through all the commotion, was still sleeping.

For a few seconds, I showed no remorse. The glass still in my hand, breathing heavily I just stared at Lenny. Then slowly my brain regained control of the primal rage that had moments ago consumed my body.

I didn't hate people waving their hand in front of my face. I just thought it was rude. The aggression that leapt out of me had been building for a while. Heavily in debt, cramped in a room with 2 other guys, the pressures of the season, Jeff's passing. It all built up into a split second moment of madness that would surely cost me my job.

And it did.

best story ive read so far,this is OFFICIALLY the best story on here, hu agrees???????

i agree, briliant mate well done keep it up

Thanks for the comments guys

I'd had enough of managing this club and the story there has kind of run its course so I felt a change of scenery would keep the story fresh.

Just read this in one sitting. Very good story so far. Long may it continue I say.

any chance of knowing when the next update is due? looking forward to it

I started on the next part before the weekend, but it won't be until the middle of the week it'll be posted I think. Gotta determine what I'll be doing next.

i read the start of this story a weeks back, when you were upto getting a job i think, or something like that. anyway i was enjoying it then but now...its bloody fantastic. well done mate.

17th November 2007

My tenure with the club has come to an end. One moment of madness has undone all the good work I've done over the last year. I was gutted, an absolute wreck.

We'd agreed to keep the incident in the pub between ourselves and make sure no-one else knew about it, but being such a small place, and with Lenny sporting a large cut that was made even more obvious by the oversized bandage strapped to his face I knew that the news would have spread like wild-fire around the town.

I had nowhere to go. My wages were so low that I couldn't afford a flight home. I took a taxi out of the town and headed 30 miles down the road. The last of my savings were going to be used staying in a B&B for the next week.

It was a very small place. A bungalow in fact. There really wasn't any privacy. As soon as I stepped out of my room I was in the kitchen, which always seemed to be full of different people. Something I didn't understand given that there was only 2 rooms in the place, and one of those was occupied by the owners.

I tried in my best Norwegian dialect to ask if there was a phone socket anywhere so that I could check my emails, just to see what jobs were about, but they couldn't understand a word I was saying. In fact, they resorted to grunts of “ugh, ugh†and waving bread in my face as if to ask “do you want something to eat Mr. Alien?â€.

**** it, I thought. I just hunted around for a socket in their living room and plugged in. 20 jobs available. I applied for 3. Lyon (obviously, given my track record so far, they'd be foolish to turn me down), Degerfors in the Swedish First Division and Krokom who were biding their time in the Swedish Second Division Middle Gotaland.

Why not a Scottish club I hear you say/think? My travel money doesn't stretch that far. Well, it doesn't stretch anywhere really, so I'm pinning my hopes on a job in Sweden. Lyon can afford to fly me over themselves if I get that one too.

5th December 2007

I'm officially homeless dear diary. I almost managed to string out 3 weeks in the B&B before they flung me out onto the street for not paying them. I did try the old “Don't you know who I am?†remark, and it turns out they did know who I was which made matters worse. They burned my socks.

My laptop now only has it's battery to live on, so I'm using it as sparingly as possible. This morning Lyon emailed me back to tell me my job application was unsuccessful. Out of desperation for a place to stay I emailed Steve but as yet I've had no reply.

This isn't how things were meant to turn out was it? God, if only Lenny had pressed charges I'd be sorted. Living it up in a concrete cell for a few weeks waiting for my trial. Maybe I could turn myself in? I could tell the police I've been responsible for paying people to pleasure others? In a way it's true, footballers are there to entertain, so I wouldn't be lying.

Sod's law was that there was no holding cells in where I was staying. It was a further 15 miles up the road and I had no energy left to go there. I'm writing this entry from a small alcove by a nightclub that has just closed for the night and I just want to cry. I want to blub myself delerious only for someone, just anyone to grab my hands and tell me “everything will be okay son, everything will be fine.â€

9th December 2007

Out of desperation I called Steve on his mobile continuously until he answered. He wasn't really in a listening mood after what had happened to his sweetheart Lenny but I told him straight what my situation was and fairs fair, he did take pity on me. He told me to meet him at the train station where I was staying and he'd be there to greet me later on in the evening.

The train station was only 5 miles down the road, but it seemed like a marathon journey away, especially after living on only the lukewarm scraps that the restaurants were tipping into the waste at the end of a customers meal.

Hours passed as I sat in the freezing cold for Steve. He said he'd be here at 7pm and it was now 9:30pm, well past the time that the fish was tossed into the bin. There goes dinner.

10pm – still no sign of the bastard. I rang his mobile but there was no answer. What the hell was going on???

10:30pm – two text messages sent to him, 5 more calls. Still no reply. Then my phone rang. It was Steve.

He had told me that he was very sorry, but he had been away in Paris for a few days, and his phone wasn't working abroad. He had decided to go along with the club scouts to run his eye over a player they were planning on signing.

Whilst there he got a terrible virus and it meant that he couldn't travel (back and forth to the toilet every 5 minutes, vomiting etc.)

I stopped him short with a plethora of English expletives mixed with some new words I had picked up from my time in Norway. It was exactly the same excuse I had used on him some months back. I ended the call and stuffed my phone back in my pocket muttering at what a bastard he was under my breath.

The phone rang again, and once again it was Steve. I let him know in no uncertain terms that what stunt he had just pulled was not funny in the slightest and he let out a small chuckle and told me to be thankful that I had only spent a few days out on the streets fending for myself and not the several weeks he himself had endured. Touché Steve.

A few seconds later a car pulled up beside the station and the car horn beeped a few times. I looked over to see who it was and there was Steve, mobile against his lug, waving over to me.

To show my gratitude that he had rescued me from certain starvation and death by hypothermia I laid into him about using a mobile when in driving. It took me the whole drive home before I dragged myself away from my stubbornness to tell him “thank youâ€.

Turns out that Lenny doesn't know I'm coming home by the way. And he's off on a business trip until Christmas Eve. If Lenny was still here, then it's highly doubtful that I'd be allowed to stay, and I'll need to be out the door before his Highness returns.

The need to get myself a post at another club now had a fast approaching deadline attached to it.

good story mate..

could i ask which leagues and countrys did you pick at the beggining of ur game