Sharpening a Rusty Blade - Book II

Amaroq · November 27, 2007

Saturday, 16th August, 2008. Premier League - Game 3, at Ipswich Town.

I woke from a bad dream, one in which we'd been utterly strangled on the pitch by the Anaconda-like defense of Ipswich Town. It took me a few moments to recognize the hotel room, and realize that the disastrous match - 0-2, and we'd been utterly outplayed by a side which looked like Germany on a good day - was only a nightmare, not yet reality. I hoped it wouldn't be an omen, but the sound of rain splattering against the hotel window offered another omen: a storm of near-biblical proportions was battering the east coast.

I shook off the feeling of dread that was overtaking me, and tried to recapture the excitement I'd felt in the days leading up to the match. Its early days yet, of course, but who would have thought that two sides who battled for the Championship title last season would be meeting while occupying 3rd and 5th place in their first season in the Premier League? We'd split the honors with them last year, the home side winning by two each time we met. They did hold the series edge, though, having swept us in the 2005-06 season, and seen off our challenge to win the Championship title last year. Worse, they had two strikers in on loan from Chelsea, Carlton Cole and Daniel Fredheim-Holm, which looked to make a decent squad all the more dangerous.

My starting lineup featured Allan McGregor between the posts, with Sean Dillon, Steve Foster, Ben Hammond, and Keith McCormack in the back. Mathieu Berson was back in the defensive midfield role. Laurent Robert started on the left wing, with Victor Sikora on the right. In the attacking midfield, Robert Cousins was re-registered with the club just two hours before kickoff, and would partner Joe Newell. Big Noel Hunt was the striker. That gave me four 19-year-olds, a much younger lineup than I would prefer to send out, but condition concerns compelled me.

Despite the gale-force winds and driving rain, Ipswich put pressure on us right from the get-go, looking every bit as formidable as they had in my dream. They tried young Keith McCormack at right back repeatedly, sending ball after ball down the left wing, but the youngster was playing a masterful game. Still, that may have been on Steve Foster's mind when he drifted wide in the 7th minute, and Daniel Fredheim-Holm dribbled up the space he left in the middle, rounding the outclassed Ben Hammond only to see his shot saved by Allan McGregor.

We had chances of our own, though. In the 11th minute McGregor launched a long free kick, which Noel Hunt flicked on from 25 yards out, his header rolling past keeper Kelvin Davis only to be blown just wide as it trickled to a halt. A minute later, Hunt's low pass put Joe Newell into the area, but Davis saved the youngster's 19-yard effort. On 21 minutes, Robert Cousins tried a shot from range, but the wind blew his 25-yarder well over the bar.

Perhaps that's why Allan McGregor didn't expect Garry Redmond to shoot when he lined up a free kick from 30 yards in the 27th minute. The 24-year-old left wing, bought from Falkirk for a mere Â£80,000 three years earlier, was now valued at Â£3.6M, and he launched a curling effort over the wall through the swirling winds. The surprised McGregor got a late break on it, and the ball curled into the top corner to put us behind 0-1.

With the lead and the storm, Ipswich fell back on a more defensive outlook, and held us at bay through the halftime whistle, which was barely audible over the din of the storm. The lads were drenched through and miserable, but I told them to start ranging forward in the second half. That outlook almost cost us in the 51st minute when Carlton Cole nearly made it two, beating Hammond in the air to head on goal from 8 yards, but putting it just over.

As I asked the fourth official to allow me two substitutions in the 60th minute, Garry Redmond sent an aerial ball forward from the left wing. Holm beat Steve Foster, leaping in the air at the corner of the 6. Hammond saw the danger, and tried to cover, closing towards Holm and leaving Cole unmarked. The Norwegian striker nodded it down for his unmarked partner, and Cole buried it to the top corner from 8 yards out to make it 0-2.

This was the point where my dream had turned nightmare: the same scoreline, almost the same time elapsed, and from then on my players had played as if they were stuck in molasses. The pitch was reaching that condition. I sent Darren Gibson and Marc Bridge-Wilkinson on for Cousins and Laurent Robert, switching to a 3-5-2 to try and find our way back into the match.

It almost paid instant dividends when Bridge-Wilkinson's pass put the Scottish youngster through the Ipswich defense, but Davis was up to the task with a wonderful one-on-one save. Newell put Bridge-Wilkinson through the central defense at 66 minutes, but he tried from long range and the wind blew his shot well off target. A minute later, Sean Dillon sent Hunt through one-on-one, but he was whistled offsides as he rounded the keeper.

Darren Wrack was my final substitution, but if I was hoping the veteran would spark a comeback, it was not to be. The heavens had truly opened, and a downpour soaked the pitch as the winds howled - they seemed to be picking up, and lightning thundered in the distance. The referee looked nervously sky-ward with regularity, and when it became obvious that the Ipswich defense had our offense in perpetual check, the fourth official signaled a mere minute of time added on. In the final seconds, it was Holm who came closest to scoring, breaking our offsides trap but sailing a savage right-footed shot over the top.

My dream had been accurate, right down to the final score: with no reply in our waterlogged cannons, we suffered our first defeat of the year, 0-2.

Ipswich 2, Sheffield United 0

Redmond 27, Cole 60; ----

MoM: Davis (Ipswich GK)

Kelvin Davis had played a fine game, but in my mind Keith McCormack deserved the Man of the Match award. I was left thinking of strengthening the squad: if I didn't have to start four 19-year-olds again all season, I'd be happy.

I just hoped the result didn't crush our morale entirely. It was, after all, the same result we'd had late last year at Portman Road, so hardly a surprise.

Amaroq · November 27, 2007

Sunday, 17th August, 2008.

The Tractor Boys' victory was national headline news. Not only had they beaten us 2-0, but Arsenal had drawn with Manchester United 1-1, and Chelsea had been defeated 2-0 at Manchester City. Yes, if you're following closely, that meant that Dave Jones's Ipswich Town side were top of the table!

<pre class="ip-ubbcode-code-pre"> Pts W D L GF GA GD

1 Ipswich Town 7 2 1 0 6 1 + 5

2 Arsenal 7 2 1 0 5 1 + 4

3 Newcastle 7 2 1 0 4 2 + 2

4 Liverpool 6 2 0 1 11 5 + 6

5 Middlesbrough 6 2 0 1 5 2 + 3

6 Chelsea 6 2 0 1 4 2 + 2

. ...

13 SHEFFIELD UNITED 4 1 1 1 2 3 - 1

. ...

17 Crystal Palace 2 0 2 1 2 4 - 2

18 Portsmouth 1 0 1 2 2 6 - 4

19 Bolton 1 0 1 2 1 5 - 4

20 Tottenham 1 0 1 2 1 7 - 6</pre>

Depending who you read, either the fact that we can't beat a just-promoted side shows we're clearly going down, or the fact that we're still mid-table is a promising start which shows we're capable of staying up.

Rupert Wormwood, of course, predicted the worst, seeing in defeat to a 'weak Ipswich side' a precipitous collapse which would see us finish well shy of safety, proving that we'd been promoted too early.

Ipswich manager Dave Jones, however, said that having seen us in action, he firmly believed that we have a reasonable chance of staying up - gracious comments from a man who found himself sitting top of the table!

Victor Sikora had suffered a shoulder injury in the closing minutes of the match, which would rule him out for about six days - our next two matches - but he should be able to return by the sixth match of the season, in September.

Sunday, our Under-18s had their first match of the season, away to Mansfield U-18s. There's not much continuity of the squad at that level, and the new players had a hard time adjusting to each other. Not many were match fit, either, and Mansfield won a hard-fought match, 0-1.

robterrace · November 28, 2007

Cracking story Amaroq, I'm thinking about starting a Sheffield United story (got a cracking saved game on the go...), but I'm not sure how to write it...

Amaroq · November 28, 2007

Thanks, rob. You might take a look in the Story Ideas & Discussion Thread, and if you don't find assistance in what's already posted, ask some more detailed questions there.

Amaroq · November 28, 2007

Tuesday, 19th August, 2008.

"Outspoken Bolton manager Sam Allardyce said he felt sympathy for you, knowing the magnitude of the task of keeping the Blades up, and saying he wouldn't like to be in your position. How do you respond?"

The press were at it again, looking to me for a quote, and I suspected Allardyce of looking to play mind games with my lads while they were still unsettled from Dave Jones' comments.

"I'm pleased to know my colleagues acknowledge the difficulty of our situation," I answered after a moment's thought, "But tell Sam that I'm confident we can beat relegation. Its a long season, and I have every faith in our ability to bounce back from Saturday's loss."

The Premiership is so stressful - the way every little thing is questioned, I feel like I'm living under a microscope.

"What about the Djibril CissÃ© rumour?"

Arsenal had accepted my bid for the French striker. I'd thought we had been keeping it private, but there are no secrets in football: the description of it in today's paper had been fairly accurate, getting the 24-month terms correct and even naming the additional fee I'd offered after 50 league goals.

"I'm afraid I can't comment," I answered, trying to hide any hint of my private smile. Negotiations were going well, and I'd managed to price FC Nantes Atlantique out without bankrupting the club.

Amaroq · November 28, 2007

Wednesday, 20th August, 2008. Premier League - Game 4, vs Bolton Wanderers.

Bolton Wanderers were a great recent success story, having climbed from League Two in 1987/88 to the Premier League by 1995/96. After a brief relegation, they'd stayed up since the 2001/02 campaign. Two years ago they'd placed 8th, but slipped back to 10th last year. Manager Sam Allardyce was a local hero, but found himself under pressure, his position insecure already this season, as expectations were high.

Our lineup remained quite similar across the back five, with Allan McGregor in goal despite a poor showing over the weekend and a distinct lack of confidence during practice. Joe Keenan joined Steve Foster and the youngsters Ben Hammond and Keith McCormack in front of him, and Danny Payne was the defensive midfielder. Jonathan Forte took the left wing opposite Graham Allen, while the attack partnered John Melligan with Marc Bridge-Wilkinson. Peter Weatherson as my striker was the only man in the lineup who had scored a goal this season.

Allardyce matched our formation with a 4-5-1 of his own, though his midfielders were relatively flat across the middle. Bolton took the opening kickoff, and brought the ball up the right side, as our lads collapsed to play perimeter defense as they are instructed to. Jonathan Fote knocked the ball out for a throw. John Adams received and sent a cross over the box, which Ben Hammond headed clear. It got no further than Spanish fullback Juanfran, who played it back into the box for Henrik Pedersen. It looked like the veteran Dane was offsides, but he nodded it on from the near post, a mere six yards out. There was nothing Allan McGregor could do about it, and when the flag stayed down, the crowd groaned: Bolton were out to an early 0-1 lead.

Rather than playing our counter-attack, we began to press forward, building posession and mounting constant pressure over the first thirty minutes. None of our lads could find a telling pass, however, and by the 30th minute I was worried about Peter Weatherson, who seemed to be limping. Darren Gibson came on to replace him. We had two chances shortly thereafter, but Forte's header went wide, and Marc Bridge-Wilksinson shot from range despite having space to run into, and put it over.

At halftime, it was still scoreless, and I also put Mike Flynn on for an unconvincing John Melligan. Even my best efforts to rouse my lethargic players at halftime seemed to go for naught - the speech was quickly forgotten as they came out of the locker room just as flat. The best chance early in the second half was Michael Carrick's right-footed half-volley, and we were lucky that missed wide. By the 62nd minute, my final change was made, as Laurent Robert replaced Jonathan Forte on the left wing - I was encouraging all of my players to get involved in the attack now.

On the 65th minute, right back Danny Payne got forward, with Robert's pass setting him in a bit of space, but he shot wide from 18 yards. Robert again started the chance in the 71st minute, sending in a cross from the left side which goalkeeper Craig Gordon punched clear. Ben Hammond collected the ball outside the arc, and spotting Gordon well off of his line drove a low shot on net, but it clattered off of speedy young midfielder John Adams. Allardyce began to drop his players back, defending with ten and sometimes eleven men, and absolutely clogging any midfield linkup we tried to establish.

Nothing was working, and as the final minutes expired without a riposte, the crowd began to get edgy, and finally to boo outright each time we lost possession. A tightness began to gather in my chest - a soreness as though muscular, and it was getting tough to breathe. It was almost frightening, for a bit, but I forced myself to relax, and the feeling subsided. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for my players, who continued to struggle.

Though it was only a one-goal game, the final whistle came as a mercy to the lads, who trudged off the pitch with a dejected air that bespoke defeat.

Sheffield United 0, Bolton 1

----; Pedersen 46

MoM: Dennis (Bolton DR)

The lads were in the depths of despair in the locker room: despite the home advantage and a desperate need to find an equalizer, we hadn't even managed a shot on target. Any one of Bolton's four defenders deserved Man of the Match honours, which went to right back Tony Dennis, an 18-year-old for whom it was the first such award at the Premier level.

I didn't have anything to say to them. Frankly, their performance had frustrated and sickened me, but I was out of ideas how to get more from them.

Amaroq · November 28, 2007

Thursday, 21st August, 2008.

Ipswich had stumbled, giving up top spot to Arsenal, with Liverpool, Chelsea, and Middlesbrough all one point behind the Gunners.

The Champions League qualifying concluded with the second leg of the Third Qualifying Round matches on Wednesday. Aston Villa beat Bosnian side Siroki Brijeg 2-1, to advance on a 5-1 aggregate. Irish side Shelbourne were out despite a 2-1 home win to Panathinaikos, losing on a 3-2 aggregate score. There were no other surprises.

In the Reserves, Stewart Downing played 90 minutes and earned Man of the Match in a 1-1 draw against Nottingham Forest Reserves. Youngster Tom Baker scored a first-half equalizer after Forest had scored first, and trialist Ola Tidman did well in goal to preserve the result.

Rupert Wormwood, of course, couldn't wait to crank up the pressure, after our second consecutive failure:

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">The Honeymoon is Over

The honeymoon is ended, and cold stark reality now faces manager Ian Richards and his charges. They do not belong in the Premiership.

The team appeared stuck in molasses against Ipswich, and were unable to put a single shot on target against Bolton.

Manager and players alike appeared out of ideas, and unless something is done quickly to inject creativity into this struggling offense, it will be a long and dismal season for Blades supporters.

It is perhaps telling that the starting XI against Bolton were all members of last years' promotion-winning side: the Sheffield United board didn't offer sufficient funds for Richards to spend until halfway through the transfer window, when most players of quality had already settled their summer moves.

Needless to say, a Championship side through and through were insufficient against a team of Bolton's quality, and the American's much-vaunted tactical genius was nowehere in evidence. He seems to think the same tactics which won matches against inferior opposition in the lower leagues will suffice against solid Premiership sides. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

That wasn't even the worst bit of the day's news. Paul Preston had given an utterly unflattering interview down at Kidderminster, which was republished in the Star. Answering a question from the local media about why he'd accepted a loan all the way down the Conference, he'd answered that he was currently disillusioned with life under me at Bramall Lane. He stated that he didn't see how the situation could be resolved, and speculated that it might only be solved by one of us leaving the club. Then he made a dig about how, if the senior side didn't find a way to win, that problem might take care of itself!

It was starting to get to me, the constant expectation and sniping. I was depressed, I wasn't sleeping, and I can't tell you how stressed out I was: my wife had just about stopped speaking to me, and I was spending ever-longer hours at the office.

Even so, I was caught by surprise Thursday afternoon.

I'd had a bid for Djibril CissÃ© accepted by Arsenal, and negotiations all but concluded with his agent on Tuesday. This morning I learned that, last night, Bayern MÃ¼nchen had swept in with a late deal to snap the 27-year-old French striker out from under me. He'd been stunning at Liverpool, knocking in 43 goals in less than 3 seasons, but had only netted 9 for Arsenal the last two years. I'd hoped he would be able to recapture his form on my behalf, but obviously FC Bayern manager Felix Magath had similar aspirations.

I was left working the phones in my office, trying to complete the transfer of a striker, any striker with reasonable quality. It wasn't happening, and I knew I'd missed the start of the afternoon training session as I hustled down through the bowels of the stadium towards the training pitch.

I'd gotten most of the way there - five minutes' brisk walk, at most? - when the pain in my chest began again. This time it was sharper, almost stabbing. It still felt a bit like the soreness I get after working out my pecs, but, coupled with a discomfort anytime I inhaled, it was quite frightening.

I'd felt something similar during the Bolton match.

I sat down, breathing shallowly and rapidly, and tried to relax.

"Its just stress," I told myself. "You were able to relax during the match."

Nothing.

I was just about to decide to call a doctor, when the pain began to ease.

It had been ten scary minutes - but by the fifteenth, it was all over, and I stood up, continuing on to take over training from Stuart McCall.

I didn't tell anyone.

Wegason · November 29, 2007

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

I didn't tell anyone. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

You should

That's bad luck on the Djibril CissÃ© transfer, bloody Germans!

marchie666 · November 29, 2007

Waiting to find out, who you will sign

Amaroq · November 29, 2007

Cheers, marchie. And you're telling me, Weg...

Amaroq · November 29, 2007

Friday, 22nd August, 2008.

No such pain today. I think it was just stress.

I made a conscious effort to stay relaxed, and luckily there was no bad news in today's paper. Not that it was any easier on us:

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Tomorrow's trip to Middlesbrough may not be a 'must win' for the Blades, but a goal and a split of the points would go a long way to convincing supporters and players alike that Ian Richards' 4-5-1 system can be made to work in the Premiership. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

I took the day to travel to The Circle with our youth side to face Hull U-18s in the Under-18s Cup First Round. We'd gone all the way to the final last year, but I'd moved a lot of the youngsters out on loan, and it was almost an entirely new batch of kids who made this trip. Captain Gary Thomas scored first, banging home the rebound after Martin Hunt's shot in the 19th minute. The 1-0 scoreline stood into the 80th minute, when goalkeeper Adam Ryan made a fantastic point-blank save to maintain it. With Hull sending men forward in the final minutes, Thomas scored his second on a long breakaway. 2-0 was the final score, and Thomas was deservedly Man of the Match.

The trip yielded more signings than a full week of phone calls had - not that it resolved my need for a big-name offensive powerhouse. Instead, I added a 16-year-old schoolboy, who came to Hull to watch the Under-18s Cup match, and was impressed enough to find a Premiership manager attending that he signed on the spot.

DM C Tim Barnes, 16, England, uncapped:

Schoolboy:

This lad is reasonably fit, reasonably determined, and has a bit of leadership potential. Other than that, he may not be showing much yet, but our one scout that had seen him play thought he was quite promising.

The same evening, Juventus defeated Arsenal, 2-0, to win the European Super Cup.

Amaroq · November 29, 2007

Saturday, 23rd August, 2008. Premier League - Game 5, at Middlesbrough.

Our task would not grow any easier against Boro, who were sitting fourth in the Premier League table with three wins and one loss, that an away defeat to Chelsea. True, they'd placed 14th last year, which is where we languished now, but they had high morale, an excited home crowd, and had been in the Premier League since 1998 (among other appearances in the top flight - they'd played First Division for the first time in 1902). If we had any luck, it was that six players would miss the match for Middlesbrough, including American international Carlos Bocanegra.

Allan McGregor looked disconsolate about his recent performance in goal, and I could only hope he'd pull out of his morass. The defense in front of him would get a strong boost with the return of Hayden Foxe to partner Steve Foster centrally, with Sean Dillon and Keith McCormack the fullbacks. Mathieu Berson was the defensive midfielder, while Laurent Robert and Chris Sedgwick would roam the wings. I had Marc Bridge-Wilkinson partnered with Joe Newell in the attacking midfield, and big man Noel Hunt was the striker.

As Bolton had mid-week, Boro got off an early shot. Luckily, it was straight down the middle from 20 yards, an easy save for Allan McGregor, which looked to settle his nerves. Referee Gary Hewitt was calling a strict game, and by the 11th minute, Joe Newell, Marc Bridge-Wilkinson and Laurent Robert all had yellow cards for questionable fouls. The home side were building up pressure, and yet again we seemed to have little chance to slow them down. Steve Foster headed clear Phil Jagielka's cross, but James Morrison collected and drove a shot from range, which Hayden Foxe blocked. In the 14th minute, Morrison's cross to the near post picked out Kevin Nolan, but his header went sailing over the crossbar.

In the 18th minute, Vratislav Gresko slippe past Chris Sedgwick, and when Mathieu Berson came wide to assist, Gresko laid a low pass to Jerko Leko in the space the defensive midfielder had vacated. The midfielder launched a blistering 25-yard strike which curled to the top-right corner, and the Riverside Stadium crowd of 24,074 let out a roar as it billowed the netting out, giving them the 0-1 advantage.

As had been the case in each of our previous defeats, that seemed to take the life out of the squad. We seemed to lack sufficient creativity to work anything through the Middlesbrough midfield, and though some individuals were playing well - Keith McCormack at right back in particular looked like he belonged in the Premiership, and McGregor had a number of saves - we simply weren't playing as a team. Just before halftime, McCormack made a great tackle in the box to deny Johan Elmander, the Swedish international.

The lads looked to me at halftime, but there seemed nothing I could say: we were being outplayed in every aspect of the game. I did make two adjustments. First, I switched to our patient buildup, slowing down the tempo and encouraging a shorter passing game. Second, I brought Peter Weatherson on for Noel Hunt, who seemed to be limping a bit.

The changes hardly seemed to matter, as Boro continued to look the more dangerous side into the second half. Dean Ashton's shot from a tight angle forced yet another save from Allan McGregor, and Leko and Elmander each saw headers fly over our net two minutes apart. By the 62nd minute, I knew I needed to make other changes, and I brought on young Robert Cousins to replace the equally young Newell, and Stewart Downing on for Robert - moves that would both provide fresh legs and protection against a second yellow card.

For a few minutes, that seemed to even the run of play, but we still weren't threatening the Middlesbrough net, and by the 75th minute they were applying more pressure. The crowd was baying for blood when Foster tripped Ashton 20 yards out, right on the arc. Foster received a yellow card, and Dutch fullback Wilfred Bouma stood over the ball to take. The shot was partially deflected by the wall, but was clearly headed in but for McGregor's diving attempt to push it wide. Gresko was first to the rebound, but McGregor got his fingertips to that shot as well for an amazing double-save. McCormack cleared the immediate danger, but Middlesbrough kept posession deep in our half, and Ashton smashed one from 20 yards, which McGregor had sighted all the way, and clutched to his chest.

A minute later, the hosts came forward again, and this time it was Sean Dillon who headed Ashton's cross. It failed to clear, falling instead to Stilian Petrov a mere 16 yards from net, with nobody between him and goal but the Scotsman. Another fantastic save by McGregor denied the Bulgarian, and McGregor looked a clear candidate for Man of the Match.

Unfortunately, we needed a goal, and our on-form keeper could not provide that. Neither could I, and that familiar tightness in my chest was back. I - literally - could barely stand to watch. Even sitting on the bench, my breathing was labored and shallow. It hurt to expand my lungs beyond about fifty percent of their capacity, and I could only pray for a result, inspiration, from one of my players. Downing earned a cross in the 82nd minute, but Jagielka headed it clear. Bridge-Wilkinson collected it, but put his shot well wide.

That was only our second shot of the match, and despite my directions to throw everyone forward at this juncture, that seemed only to create more space for the Middlesbrough attack. Hayden Foxe made a great saving tackle to deny Elmander, but in injury time Boro earned another 20-yard free kick. George Boateng dispatched it goalwards, and McGregor again pushed it away. Dean Ashton pounced on the rebound, but McCormack made the crucial tackle to knock it away, and Mathieu Berson played it forward for Weatherson. Suddenly we were off on the counter, as Weatherson sent Downing down the left wing. He played it low for Bridge-Wilkinson inside, and the midfielder knocked it forward for Weatherson, but Boateng slid in to knock it to Phil Jagielka just outside the area, and the former England U-21 sent it back to the keeper.

That was our last gasp, and a minute later the final whistle blew on yet another dismal defeat. With it, the tightness in my chest relaxed.

Middlesbrough 1, Sheffield United 0

Leko 17; ----

MoM: McGregor

For the second match in a row, we'd failed to put a single shot on target, and we'd been completely outplayed, conceding 21 shots by Middlesbrough.

Allan McGregor had eleven saves, including the fantastic double in the 76th minute, and well deserved his Man of the Match award, though I had stiff words for his defense, especially Sean Dillon and Steve Foster, who seemed not to have put in the effort that Foxe and McCormack had.

Amaroq · November 29, 2007

Sunday, 24th August, 2008, early morning.

I never did get to read Rupert Wormwood's article the following day.

I woke up feeling well, and rested, if a little concerned about the recurring chest pain. My wife was already up and showering - today was her first day on the new job.

I stretched my arms wide, to the side, took a deep breath .. and felt that now-too-familiar pain in the chest. As before, it felt like a muscle soreness, in muscles I hadn't worked out for years.

My wife is a nurse, ferchrissakes, and even so I hadn't told her about it. I did so now, and she suggested that I stretch it a little bit.

I was downstairs, stretching on the living room floor, but it got worse and worse, quickly passing from sore to pain to OH FECK. OW OW OW OW OW. I was curled up, fetal; it felt like I was dying. It wasn't just the chest, now; I could feel a line of pain down the underside of each arm, all the way from the shoulder to the elbow.

"Honey, are you okay?" she called from upstairs.

"Its .. a bit worse .." I answered. I didn't want to scare her - its her first day on the job, she can't exactly call in sick, now can she?

"Why don't you take a shower, and see if that helps?"

Grimacing, I forced myself to my feet, and laboured back up the stairs. I paused, long enough to catch my breath, before walking past her, affecting that nothing was wrong.

Why do men hide pain from women?

I never thought of myself as "macho"; I never had a need to pretend to strength I didn't have. Open, honest, compassionate, those are the words I'd describe myself with .. and instead of telling her how bad it hurt, I hid it from her.

If you've read this far .. learn this one thing.

If it hurts that bad, ASK FOR HELP.

I got into the shower, ran the water on hottest, and within a few minutes I felt 100% better.

"Feeling better?" she asked, as I stepped out to towel myself off. She was fully dressed, ready to step out the door, just putting on a last touch of makeup.

"Thoroughly!"

This time, I wasn't kidding myself; I really did feel fine.

"Okay, darling. I've got to go. Call me later?"

"Okay. I love you!"

Amaroq · November 29, 2007

Sunday, 24th August, 2008, morning.

No sooner was she out the door, than the soreness began to come back.

Now I was scared.

I went to google "chest pain".

If you are experiencing a pressure, tightness, squeezing, or discomfort in your chest that has lasted for more than a few minutes, especially if the pain radiates to your back, neck, or arms, you should go to the closest emergency room immediately.

Feck.

Why didn't I dial 999?

The first time, the pain had taken me from asymptomatic to fetal on the floor in about twenty minutes. The hospital was 20 minutes away. And ten minutes had already passed.

If I'd been thinking clearly, I'd have called for help. Hell, my wife couldn't have been too far away yet. I could have called her.

No.

Those deep-seated masculine tendencies took over again: remembering how boring emergency rooms are, I grabbed two books and a change of underwear - then got in the car to drive myself.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

By the time I was halfway there, it was well beyond sore and into pain.

By fifteen minutes, I was in sight of the hospital - but about a mile away, and I seemed to hit every single traffic light. If I'd seen a cop, I'd have asked for help by then, but no. Instead, I was trapped, feeling the life slip out of me in the most intense, excruciating pain I hope ever to experience.

Oh God, I'm going to die.

At a traffic light.

In sight of the hospital.

Kairyu · November 29, 2007

I really just have one thing to say....

Richard you idiot.....

Amaroq · November 30, 2007

Man, tough crowd! But, yeah.

Amaroq · November 30, 2007

Sunday, 24th August, 2008, mid-morning.

By the time I was clear of the last traffic light, I was on the verge of tears. They say that your life flashes before your eyes?

It wasn't my life.

It was my regrets.

Every friend I'd disappointed, or lost touch with. Every cute girl I'd not had the courage to ask out. The thank-you notes I hadn't written to my grandmother. When was the last time I'd called my Mum just to say "I love you"? The neglect-in-favour-of-football that Stacy had put up with these past four years - and the daughter we hadn't had.

Yeah, I was bawling, as I pulled up to the E.R. entrance.

Incongruously, there was valet parking.

I got out, sobbing, clutching one of the books. "I don't .. I can't .. " I blubbered at the valet.

"Its okay, sir," he said, with perfect composure. "I'll take care of it. Just don't lose the ticket," he said, handing me the parking-claim.

Perhaps he sees this every day; I still wonder if he thought I was a visitor who'd received terrible news, not the patient.

Now that I was in hospital, ironically, the pain began to subside again. Even before I reached the E.R., I felt a peaceful serenity come over me: I'd made it here, they wouldn't let me die.

Amaroq · November 30, 2007

Sunday, 24th August, 2008, late morning.

"Well, Mister Richards, you're not having a heart attack."

A bustle of activity, a bed, a blood draw, blood thinners, and nitroglycerin tablets - and my symptoms were gone entirely.

Even so, I was very glad to hear the news from the doctor, though if that wasn't an attack, I can't imagine how bad one must be!

"Thank God."

Saying "I'm experiencing chest pain" gets you through the waiting room right quick, I've got to give them that.

With the serenity I'd felt at the waiting room, of course, the stress I'd been feeling abated, and the pain relented almost as quickly as it had come on.

They had had me reporting pain on a scale of one to ten - and calibrating 'enough pain to curl me up fetal in the living room' as a ten, I hadn't experienced anything more than a 'three' since I'd arrived at the E.R., and the nitroglycerin tablets had dropped it to a 'zero' almost immediately.

"There's a characteristic enzyme, which the heart emits when tissue is dying; you don't show a noticeable amount of that currently. We used to have to send that out for lab analysis, but this monitor now lets us do so in real-time.

We do want to keep you under observation, probably overnight, and if you're still feeling well tomorrow, we'll do some further tests to figure out what is going on. Please let the nurse know immediately if your pain returns, even a 'one'."

Amaroq · November 30, 2007

Sunday, 24th August, 2008, noon.

"Hi, love. I'm at the hospital. I'm okay."

" ... "

"Yes, the Emergency Room."

" ... "

"No, no, honey, its not a heart attack. They just want to keep me for observation. You stay at work, its your first day and all..."

Yes, I was still being an idiot.

Amaroq · November 30, 2007

Sunday, 24th August, 2008, shortly after noon.

"I wonder if its our tactics?" I said to Stuart McCall, whom I had finally called to inform of my predicament.

He'd told me not to worry about a thing, he'd take care of training for a day or two. Then, as was our wont, we'd fallen to discussing the side. We were down to 15th place now, and just one point clear of the relegation zone - currently occupied by Crystal Palace, Fulham, and a shocking Aston Villa side.

"No," he said, and I could just imagine his characteristic head-shake from his tone of voice.

"I think we have absolutely no chance of avoiding relegation unless the squad is strengthened in every department. If you compare us to some of the other clubs in the division, we just don't seem to have real strength in depth.

"Look at the right wing: we both know Chris Sedgwick doesn't belong at this level, but one injury and one tired player? You had to give him 90 minutes. We don't have a second attacking midfielder to partner Marc, and neither of our strikers have impressed at this level."

"True enough. Tell you what, why don't you prepare a short-list of attacking midfielders? In fact, if I'm not back tomorrow, take it to Mister Robinson and ask him to at least open negotiations."

Amaroq · November 30, 2007

Sunday, 24th August, 2008, early afternoon.

Three hours later, I'd just finished my book and was cursing myself for leaving the second book in the car, when I felt the pain return. It was just a 'one', but I pushed the call button, as instructed.

My nurse took one look at the monitor attached to me, and then things happened very quickly.

It was a heart attack, after all.

Within minutes, they had my gurney into the cath lab.

It all went so quickly! From standstill to insertion of the catheter can't have been more than ten minutes. They run it through the thigh, the femoral artery, and up into the chest. A radioactive dye, administered even before they'd started wheeling my bed around, helped them map the blockage.

As I understood it, they were going to use an angioplasty, inflating a tiny balloon to crimp the built up plaque against the arterial wall.

"How much does it hurt, now?" my surgeon asked. She was in her early thirties, and though I wouldn't notice it until much later, quite pretty.

I was still conscious, of course.

"About a two," I answered, as she receded out of view.

When I next heard her voice, it was over an intercom, from the control room adjacent.

"I want you to do one thing for me," she told me. "Just let us know that number about every ten seconds or so. Its going to hurt a lot, when I inflate the balloon, but it should recede pretty quickly thereafter."

"Okay ...

"Two ...

"Three ...

"SIX! ..."

"Balloon," she said, her reply clipped and terse in concentration.

"Okay," I whimpered.

"Six ...

"Three ...

"Two ..."

That quickly, it was over.

Amaroq · November 30, 2007

Sunday, 24th August, 2008, afternoon.

I'd thought I was out of the woods as soon as the pain dropped, but I learned from the worried look on my nurse's face that there was one last hitch.

Pump a man full of blood-thinners.

Then punch a big hole in his femoral artery.

Yeah.

My nurse, a cute brunette who couldn't have weighed more than 105 pounds dripping wet, had pressed all of her weight on my thigh for nearly twenty minutes, and it hadn't stopped hemorrhaging yet.

I was getting really sleepy.

Blood loss?

"Doctor?" she called anxiously, and that was the last thing I heard as I surrendered to the blackness.

robterrace · December 1, 2007

Cracking twist there amaroq, hope my story can be as hard hitting as yours...

Amaroq · December 1, 2007

Thanks, rob. If you craft a plot twist as well as you craft a compliment, you'll do great!

Amaroq · December 1, 2007

Monday, 25th August, 2008, wee hours of the morning.

When I woke, it was dark. The room was dimly lit, and the unmistakable sounds of a heart monitor beeped in time with my still-beating heart.

My wife, my love, Stacy, was curled up in a chair, sleeping. I could see the worry etched in her face - and from the dim light I could tell it was the middle of the night.

Visiting hours?

I pity the poor nurse who tried to throw her out. Though perhaps they'd let her stay as a favour to a fellow nurse, now that I think about it.

She stirred, shaking her head, and opening her eyes to catch mine.

"Love, my love," I whispered.

"I'm so glad you're alright," she responded, coming over to the bedside and taking my hand. Tears glistened in her eyes. "I was so scared."

"I know. I was too."

We sat in silence, gazing into each others' eyes for several minutes.

"I'm sorry I scared you, love." I broke the silence.

Her lips pressed firmly together.

"You better be!" she burst out. "I'm .. I'm so angry with you!"

I think I blinked in response.

"You knew. You knew about your cholesterol all along! You just didn't take care of it, and you almost left me here, alone.

"A ninety-nine percent blockage of the LAD? Do you know what they call that in nursing school?

"The widow-maker!"

Amaroq · December 1, 2007

Monday, 25th August, 2008, evening.

"Listen, lad, you're half my age. You're supposed to outlive me."

Mister Dooley's joke earned a weak smile.

"Yes, sir."

He smiled down at me, and I was overcome by an irrational guilt. I was letting him down. I was letting the entire team down.

"The team.. I'm sorry .. I .."

He understood me.

"Don't worry about it, lad. Stuart and Terry can take care of things for a couple weeks until you're back."

"No, the team need.."

"NO. Listen to ME, lad. You've been pushing yourself too hard. You haven't taken a holiday since you came to Bramall Lane, and you practically sleep at the office. If it took a heart attack for you to realize it, don't make it in vain.

"Learn the lesson.

"You've got to take care of yourself."

He let me sit in silence for a couple minutes while I chewed on that.

He was all too right: my single-minded focus on work had nearly cost me everything: my marriage, my health, my life. It was the same thing my wife was telling me.

"Okay, okay," I answered, at length.

"Promise me you'll take yourself on vacation."

"I will, I promise."

With that straightened out, we turned to team matters. He filled me in on Sunday's action, where Robert Cousins led the Under-18s to a 1-0 victory. The young midfielder turned in a commanding Man of the Match performance and scoring the only goal against Port Vale U-18s.

"Though that might briefly liven spirits at the club," he assured me, "Its been a dismal week otherwise. They're all worried about you."

Discussing our needs, he agreed with me that we needed another option in the attacking midfield, somebody more experienced than our two 19-year-olds for a relegation battle, and a striker. With Stuart and Terry already pursuing one possibility for each, Mister Dooley approved in advance whatever deal they could arrange.

We also decided that, if an opportunity presented itself for an experienced central defender, or goalkeeper, we'd have to consider it strongly.

Amaroq · December 1, 2007

Tuesday, 26th August, 2008.

"Rob?! Wow!"

My closest friend had flown all the way out from California, dropping everything to make his way to my side.

"I can't believe you came!"

"You know, if you wanted to see me," he told me. "You could have just called." He stepped to the bedside and took my hand in his, giving me an affectionate squeeze in lieu of the hug we'd have exchanged in better times.

"Thanks for coming."

"How are you doing?"

"I've been better.

"I've got a big stent in one of the major arteries on the heart, and a bruise the size of Idaho at my groin, where they put the catheter in.

"They had me up and taking a walk today. My heart rate when through the roof just standing up, and you know that little desk you walked past on the way in?"

"Yeah?"

"Three laps around it, and I was dead exhausted."

"Well, you did have a heart attack. What did you expect?"

I shook my head.

We spent the next two hours or so catching up, mostly him chattering cheerfully about people I'd known in the States while I nodded off. It was great, but I'm afraid I fell asleep before saying good by to him.

He left me a newspaper.

It contained one piece of interesting news: the League Cup Second Round draw. We'd drawn a home tie against Preston North End. After what we'd done to them last year, that was great news: we'd won both matches, 4-0 away and 4-1 at home. Just as I was mentally counting the morale boost we'd get for it, I glanced at the schedule: the match was September 16th, just before our first meeting with Chelsea.

Amaroq · December 1, 2007

Wednesday, 27th August, 2008.

"Stuart! I'm glad you rang!"

"I had to call, at least. How are you doing?"

"They're kicking me out today."

"Already?"

"Yeah. Something about rest, rest, rest, and NO FOOTBALL."

He laughed. "Did you tell them what you do for a living?"

"I think they know, mate. So, what's going on?"

"Its nothing but bad news, I'm afraid."

"Well?"

"I don't know .. doctor's orders."

"Out with it, man!"

"Hmm. The least of it is young Chris Holland. He twisted his knee in training, he'll be out for about two weeks."

"Okay."

"Worse, on Tuesday Middlesbrough added insult to our defeat."

"How?"

"By announcing that they'd signed Mark Whitehead."

"No!"

The 16-year-old attacking midfielder had long been a favorite of coach John Richards, my best judge of talent. I couldn't believe they'd stooped so low as to poach the promising youngster while I was incapacitated.

"Hey, don't get too excited."

"I know, I know."

I calmed myself down with an effort of will.

I thought that the apprentice player would have had a protected contract, or that Middlesbrough would have owed us some compensation of some sort, but Stuart explained that that wasn't the case. We'd file a legal challenge, of course, but the odds were that we'd be compensated with nothing. Sometimes I despair of ever understanding British labour law.

"Finally, RaÃºl Tamudo of Manchester United signed with Sevilla, rejecting our offer to return to his native Spain."

The 30-year-old striker had scored 31 goals in 3 seasons with the Red Devils, but found himself on the substitutes' bench this season and had been looking for a change. He'd been my backup to CissÃ©, and I found myself back to square one in negotiations, just about across the board.

"Should I move on SÃ¡ndor Torghelle?"

"I guess we'll have to."

Amaroq · December 1, 2007

Thursday, 28th August, 2008.

It was a bit of a full house. My Mum had flown out from California, and with her in the guest bedroom, and Rob staying in what we figured would be the nursery, someday, there wasn't an empty bed.

My discharge orders were simple: something like a half-dozen drugs, taken daily. Plenty of bed-rest. Walk as much as I could stand to - which wasn't much, ten minutes at most. And above all, no football.

I bent the rules a little, on the last point, when Stuart rang again.

"Big news today!" he told me. "We signed Juan Carlos ValerÃ³n from Chelsea!"

"Excellent!"

It was the first good news we'd had in weeks.

We'd had a bid in for a mere Â£180,000, which seemed almost scandalously low for an experienced international, even if he is on the downward slope. The Spanish midfielder made it known that at this stage in his career, when offers for older players can be hard to come by, he was only seeking regular first team action.

AM C Juan Carlos ValerÃ³n, 33, Spain, 52 caps, 5 goals:

21 games, 3 goals, 3 assists, 0 MoM, 7.14 with Chelsea:

This flamboyant midfielder still has all the flair, creativity, and technique that he possessed in his prime. His passing is crisp and precise, he can sink a beautiful corner, and he still takes a fine penalty. He still has good pace, but he's lost a step of that explosive acceleration, and his stamina isn't what it once was, especially as he's had so few matches the past year or so. He's severely lacking in match fitness at the moment, but I still want to pencil him into the starting lineup immediately!

"The fans love it," Stuart assured me, "And feel he will bring vital experience to the side and could help the development of the club's youngsters."

Personally, I hope he can provide the sort of spark the talismanic Tappa Whitmore did for me at Bootham Crescent.

He also told me that I'd delighted the crowd of 1,316 at Wednesday night's Reserve match by naming a side littered with first-team regulars and fringe players. Steve Harper played well in goal, Stewart Downing earned Man of the Match for his work on the left wing, and Irish fan favorite John Melligan scored the only goal in a 1-0 victory over Birmingham Reserves.

We also saw a mouth-watering tie in the Under-18s Cup Second Round: we'd drawn a home match against rivals Sheffield Wednesday. What better way to instill the passion of that rivalry in our youngsters than by facing them off in a single-elimination match! The date was to be September 26th, and I joked with Stuart about trying to free up some of our older players for it, just to ensure victory.

Amaroq · December 1, 2007

Friday, 29th August, 2008.

"So, doctor, when can I go back to work?" I asked, half jokingly.

"Honestly, you should be clear to return to light work on Monday."

"Really? That soon?"

"Yes. But don't push it. No more than a couple hours, and go home as soon as you're tired."

"Great! Thanks for everything, doctor."

Kairyu · December 1, 2007

Since everthing bad could've happened happened, hope things will turn for better for our poor Richard the idiot

Amaroq · December 2, 2007

It .. has been a rough week for him, hasn't it?

Amaroq · December 2, 2007

Sunday, 31st August, 2008.

I was definitely too fatigued to consider getting in to the office over the weekend, even with the transfer deadline winding to a close. I had to trust Stuart and Terry Robinson to get the deals done.

I did learn that Darren Gibson and Keith McCormack had been called up to represent their countries again at the Under-21 level, in matches on September 2nd. Honestly, the international break couldn't have come at a better time, as the extra week gave me plenty of time to recover.

On the injury front, Nicky Thomson had returned to full training, but Steve Harper twisted a knee, which would keep the elder goalkeeper out for a week, and Robert Cousins had suffered a groin strain in practice. Stuart called to ask me what I wanted to do with it. I sent the 19-year-old off to rehabilitation: he would miss the entire month of September, but I didn't want to chance reinjuring it, especially after he'd missed most of last season with injury.

That was not the big news, however - the big news was that Terry had signed Hungarian striker SÃ¡ndor Torghelle with just 36 hours remaining until the transfer deadline.

S C SÃ¡ndor Torghelle, 26, Hungary, 33 caps, 5 goals:

38 games, 11 goals, 7 assists, 1 MoM, 7.04 with Crystal Palace (Championship):

The Hungarian international was a big part of Crystal Palace's promotion drive last year, but had struggled in the Premier League the last two times that Palace were up, scoring only 7 goals in the 2 seasons combined, so management had decided to let him go on a free. On trial with us this summer, he'd only impressed enough to deserve a spot in the rotation, but pride had prevented him from signing such a contract until just now, when it became clear that he had no better options. He does combine good aerial ability with a nice first touch, good off the ball movement, and nice finishing, but in most other respects his game is more suited to the Championship level than the Premiership. Still, he'll provide some more depth and experience up front, which can't hurt, especially with our recent trouble finding the net.

He completed one more deal just before the transfer deadline, acquiring another player with international experience, and, ironically, exactly 5 goals for his country, the same tally as ValerÃ³n and Torghelle.

AM/F RC Iain Hume, 24, Canada, 23 caps, 5 goals:

52 games, 11 goals, 13 assists, 13 MoM, 7.33 with Tranmere (League One):

This Canadian attacking midfielder had played his entire career for Tranmere Rovers, coming through their youth team to make his debut in 1999, and had scored 38 goals including 11 in his breakout season last year. He has a combination of speed, natural fitness, off the ball runs and punishing long shots which will fit my system well. Though he can get well into the air, he's not very talented with his head. He's shown some poor composure and bad decisions in his time at Tranmere: he'll never be a leader, but partnered with ValerÃ³n or Bridge-Wilkinson providing the creativity, I think he'll be a solid contributor.

The Canadian cost us Â£2.3M, making him by far our most expensive transfer in of the summer, and in fact I was told later that this set a club record for transfer fee paid.

I'd also had Terry put a bid in for young Manchester City goalkeeper Kasper Schmeichel, but the agent for the 21-year-old Dane broke off contract talks around 9:00pm, and with that, our lineup was set - at least until the January transfer window.

Amaroq · December 2, 2007

Monday, 1st September, 2008.

The advances in medical technology are truly incredible. My father had suffered the same heart attack almost twenty years earlier, at almost the same age.

He was out of the office for three months, and worked part time for another three.

I was out of the office for seven days, and back at Bramall Lane on the eighth day.

Though "Worked part time" might be a bit of an exaggeration for my first day back at the office. I was there barely two hours, and, frankly, I spent most of that just reassuring my friends and co-workers that I was alive.

The day did include the board meeting, and I started with an apology for the side's 3-game losing streak.

"Don't worry about it," Terry Robinson assured me. "You still have our confidence. We're just glad you're all right."

"Seriously, lad," Derek Dooley added. "You got us to the Premiership quicker than anybody could have hoped, and you've kept us out of the relegation zone so far. What more could we ask?"

"Congratulations on those transfer-deadline moves," Director John Rodgers said. "We're all as delighted with the purchase of ValerÃ³n as the fans are. Quite a coup, from the hospital bed."

"It wasn't just me," I said. "Stuart and Terry did all the heavy lifting."

"You identified the targets," Stuart avowed loyally.

The board remained delighted with the club's financial picture, too. We'd lost Â£2.0M for the month of August, but that was entirely the transfer for Iain Hume: without that, we'd been turning a profit, and as we'd made Â£11.8M thus far this season, it was a happy time for the board.

I was less pleased, as you might imagine: for all that they were happy with any position clear of the relegation zone, I was all too conscious of how quickly those relegation places were catching up to us and our worst-in-the-league scoring record:

<pre class="ip-ubbcode-code-pre"> Pts W D L GF GA GD

1 Arsenal 13 4 1 0 10 2 + 8

2 Liverpool 12 4 0 1 17 5 +12

3 Chelsea 12 4 0 1 11 4 + 7

4 Middlesbrough 12 4 0 1 7 2 + 5

5 Manchester United 10 3 1 1 9 4 + 5

6 West Ham United 8 2 2 1 9 7 + 2

7 Ipswich Town 8 2 2 1 7 5 + 2

8 Newcastle 8 2 2 1 4 3 + 1

9 Manchester City 7 2 1 2 7 6 + 1

10 Aston Villa 6 2 0 3 4 4 0

11 Southampton 6 2 0 3 5 10 - 5

12 Portsmouth 5 1 2 2 7 8 - 1

13 Charlton Athletic 5 1 2 2 5 7 - 2

14 Crystal Palace 5 1 2 2 5 8 - 3

15 Sunderland 4 1 1 3 3 6 - 3

16 Sheffield United 4 1 1 3 2 5 - 3

17 Blackburn 4 1 1 3 7 12 - 5

---------------------------------------------------

18 Tottenham 4 1 1 3 5 11 - 6

19 Bolton 4 1 1 3 2 8 - 6

20 Fulham 3 1 0 4 5 14 - 9</pre>

Well, hopefully the upgrades to our attacking arsenal would address that, and if not, our defense has been a rock.

After a warm welcome back, followed by 45 minutes in the board room and an hour reassuring folks, I was utterly exhausted. Mister Dooley could see it, and he sent me home.

Amaroq · December 2, 2007

Tuesday, 2nd September, 2008.

The European Under-21 Championship Qualifying got under way on Tuesday.

Darren Gibson played ninety minutes but the Scotland side failed to impress as a whole. Though the 19-year-old took four of the side's seven shots, he failed to find the net, and Scotland U-21's lost to Belgium U-21's, 0-2. Keith McCormack was a late scratch from Ireland's lineup after breaking his nose during warmups. Ireland played to a 1-1 draw at Albania U-21's without him.

On the injury front, training incidents saw Danny Payne out for a week with a strained wrist, and attacking midfielder Mike Flynn knocked out for four weeks with cracked ribs. With two of my attacking midfielders out for the month, I was very glad I'd brought ValerÃ³n and Hume in: we didn't have anywhere near the depth to deal with that many injuries otherwise!

I was still letting Stuart handle training, and worked something less than three hours, mostly spent reviewing my players' training with the staff.

New midfield signing Gary Thomas had made tremendous strides. I was training the 17-year-old to play attacking midfield, to play to his natural pace and athleticism. He was quickly developing technique and mental skills to match. A few of my veterans were also training hard, with Noel Hunt and Darren Wrack coming into good form, and Steven Foster doing well as well. New signings Stewart Downing and Mike Flynn - well, before he'd cracked his ribs anyway - were also impressing with their work ethic.

On the negative side, however, Paul Preston, Steve Newton, and Joe Keenan had all lost their impressive gains from the previous month. Worse, some of my new signings were very disappointing: SÃ¡ndor Torghelle and Laurent Robert had scouted much better than they were training, and Victor Sikora was also unimpressive. Young central defender Jamie Cooper, out on loan, seemed to be suffering a drop in form - coach John Richards suggested that if he continued to dip, we might want to consider recalling him from his loan.

Amaroq · December 2, 2007

Wednesday, 3rd September, 2008.

European Qualifying action for World Cup 2010 kicked off today. Watching a match, that was about my speed, so long as I had nothing to do with it. I was still getting exhausted all too quickly - a walk of fifteen minutes or so, at a pace you might call "ambling", was still enough to leave me fatigued for half an hour or so, and a couple hours at the office did me in entirely.

England started with a comfortable home tie, hosting the Faroe Islands at Wembley. David Beckham opened the scoring with a diving header from Alan Smith's cross in the 24th minute, but at halftime it remained only 1-0 despite complete control from Gary Megson's side. I was asleep, I'm afraid, by the second goal, but Wayne Rooney added a second half brace to make it a comfortable 3-0 win for the home side.

They held the group lead, as expected - Group 4 was widely acknowledged a weak group. Switzerland beat Austria 2-0 to take second, while Serbia & Montenegro battled Cyprus to a 1-1 draw.

<pre class="ip-ubbcode-code-pre"> Pts W D L GF GA GD

1 England 3 1 0 0 3 0 + 3

2 Switzerland 3 1 0 0 2 0 + 2

3 Cyprus 1 0 1 0 1 1 0

4 Serbia & Montenegro 1 0 1 0 1 1 0

5 Austria 0 0 0 1 0 2 - 2

6 Faroe Islands 0 0 0 1 0 3 - 3</pre>

Ireland had a much tougher draw in Group 5, but started brightly with a win over Albania, 1-0, on the strength of Stephen Elliott's goal. Sweden held the lead after a 3-0 win over Andorra, and Holland beat Georgia 2-0 to step into second place.

The Tartan Army were celebrating after a 2-0 away win to Belgium put Scotland top of Group 9, with James McFadden and Craig Beattie scoring second-half goals in Brussels. Ukraine beat Kazakhstan 2-1, while Turkey stood idle.

Wales started their campaign with three goals in 34 minutes, with John Hartson's single goal splitting Robert Earnshaw's brace. They held on for a 3-1 win despite a spirited effort from hosts Moldova. It promised to be a tough group, with the Czech Republic beating Azerbaijan 3-0, and Israel topping a tough Romania side 2-0.

Northern Ireland took a shock lead in Group 3, securing a 3-0 win over Luxembourg while the more highly rated sides all battled to draws. Slovakia escaped Nurnberg with a 0-0 draw, and were unlucky not to win when Igor Demo missed a second-half penalty against European champions Germany. Poland and Denmark fought out a 1-1 draw in Copenhagen, and that left the Irish famously two points clear at the top of the group!

The other groups saw the following scores: In Group 1, Italy beat Armenia 3-0, Iceland surprised Finland 3-0, and Belarus shocked the heavily favored Russians 3-0 in Minsk.

In Group 2, France and Norway battled to a 0-0 draw, which dropped both of them behind Hungary and FYR Macedonia, who had notched a 4-0 win over Liechtenstein and a 2-0 victory over Estonia, respectively.

In Group 6, Croatia upset Spain 2-0, and San Marino notched their first World Cup victory with a 2-1 score over Lithuania. Bosnia and Slovenia tusselled to a 1-1 draw.

Finally, in Group 8, Portugal romped to a 4-1 win over Malta, while Bulgaria claimed a 2-0 win over Greece.

In the CONCACAF qualifiers, Canada beat Surinam 1-0 behind Rob Friend's goal to reach the halfway stage of the second phase unbeaten, untied, and ahead of Mexico, but my new signing Iain Hume was taken off injured at halftime. Fortunately, it was merely a strained thigh, but three weeks of physiotherapy were recommended for the newcomer, which would seriously delay his debut.

Our injury list was depressing me.

Amaroq · December 2, 2007