Luton Town : Staring into the Abyss

[bambi holt]

this story just gets better.

1 thing though, luton is in bedfordshire, not hertfordshire.

[Welwyn]

this story just gets better.

1 thing though, luton is in bedfordshire, not hertfordshire.

Agreed, that's the only thing that really gets my goat, apart from that excellent.

As a Luton fan & one that is now working on radio on all Hatters games. It's funny on a side splitting scale, particularly when so many of the characters are so different, as is the whole club:

Kevin Watson = Is now a coach & trust me, couldn't get a women with his looks for the life of him.

Kenilworth Road = 'nice London stadium' I had to pick myself off the floor! It's a dump beyond belief.

Sol Davis = Admittedly he is a lot worse than he was, but he wasn't ringing in his performances, he had a stroke in the Championship & hasn't been the same since (tbf, that annoyed me, but you weren't to know)

Dean Morgan = Most, Lazy, Big-headed player EVER!

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks as always Bambi. I'm embarrassed to learn of the Bedfordshire thing though. What makes this mistake even more unforgivable is, I've got a huge map of the UK on my bedroom wall! However, because Luton is almost on the cusp of the Bedfordshire/Hertfordshire border, I suppose it's not entirely out of the question a Hertfordshire rag might follow the fortunes of Luton, particularly as the county has no other major teams in it. I have now though changed Glynn Edwards' recent comment to "Bedfordshire and Hertfordshire public". I may need to go back and make one or two other edits too.

Welwyn, as a Luton fan your input is greatly appreciated. I'm distressed though to be reminded of the Sol Davis stroke. I'd completely forgotten about that very well documented incident at the time I began the story. On the billion to one chance he ever reads this, I hope he wouldn't get offended by my depiction. I've actually got him back in the team now, funnily enough.

I've changed "Nice London stadium" to "Nice League 2 stadium". James Martin has a non-league playing background so would definitely consider Kenilworth Road as being a nice place compared to what he's used to.

Thanks to both of you. It's good to get some sound advice

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02/12/05 - Faint George's Day

My inner turmoil was calmed by the obvious realisation that George didn't recognise me. Why would he have done? I looked a lot different at twenty six than I did at twelve.

"Sorry, I didn't realise anybody lived here".

"Was the sleeping bag not a giveaway?"

"I meant, I didn't realise until I got inside".

"Just be on your way, sunshine".

The same cynical overtone was still in every sentence he came out with, only now it was tired and ineffective. There was no bark left in his voice, no spit flying off the end of his lip. No snap, no bite, nothing. He looked and sounded a pathetic empty shell, to be honest. It suddenly dawned on me seven years too late that people don't usually serve out their entire prison sentence. George must have been given early release at some point and then ended up here when he had no home to go back to.

"I'll be on my way when I'm good and ready" I said, bravely backtracking on my initial demonstration of nerves.

"Get gone or I'll make you get gone" George said, but unconvincingly.

"Not very likely" I replied, taking a seat next to him.

I had nothing to be afraid of here. As the seconds ticked over, I was starting to realise that George was only the sort of guy who's scary when you're a little lad. When you're grown up, he just looks like an overgrown piece of lard. There was a choice to be made now; walk out of here content in the knowledge George Palazzi slept in a moth-ridden concrete hut, or walk out content that George Palazzi slept in a concrete hut AFTER giving him a quick knuckle sandwich. It would be almost poetic after the damage he'd done to my neck. Maybe I'd chew it over for a minute or two?

I'm not a violent man but I'm of the opinion that sometimes in life you can be forgiven for occasionally raising your fists, and especially when in retaliation or self-defence. Okay, so a lot of water might have passed under the bridge since George had accidentally thrown a cup at me. However, in my mind I had been too young at the time of the incident to exact my pound of flesh. I'd literally had no choice but to wait for a time I would be strong enough to take my revenge retroactively. I was definitely strong enough now.

"How come you live here?" I asked, buying myself more time to decide what to do.

"You haven't got a fag have you?" he asked by reply, completely ignoring my question.

"I don't smoke anymore".

"Fat lot of f__king good you are then".

"There's a shop just down the road".

"Do I look like I've got loads of money?"

He was too old and messed up for me to want to do any real damage to him. I wasn't the sort of bloke to do that anyway. One punch would be enough, or maybe a kick, just something to give him a bit of pain yet without causing any great damage. Then I could leg it back to the car and put Palazzi to my rudder for good.

"No I guess not" I said.

"Then get gone, laddy" George spluttered, following it up with a double cough.

A quick smack around the head. That's what I'd give him. A quick smack around the head, the force of which might knock him onto the floor.

"Don't worry, I'm going in a minute. So is that definitely your sleeping bag then?"

I pointed towards the sleeping bag over by the far wall. It was only a ruse though to get George looking the other way. Once he'd taken the bait I stood up silently and raised my right hand, intent on slapping him so hard over the back of the head that he'd possibly even topple over onto the floor. Then I would tell him who I was, point to my neck, and scarper back to the car. Job done.

Just as I was taking the swing though, George twisted his head around from where he'd been looking. The movement was too late to stop me hitting him, but it did affect the eventual point of contact for the slap. Instead of clouting him around the back of the head as intended, I ended up bringing my hand down on his neck in a sort of amatuer judo chop. George's throat muffled something unintelligible and then he fell sideways, briefly catching the bench awkwardly with one shoulder before landing on the floor in a heap. After that he didn't move a muscle.

"Oh s__t!" I mouthed silently, jumping down by his side.

I'd seen in several movies characters who check to see if someone is still alive by feeling the neck for a pulse. I did that now, my hand still shaking from the judo chop. I was no doctor but I could definitely feel a pulse. I could also - now that I thought about it - vaguely hear George breathing. He was alive then. I'd knocked him unconsious, but he was definitely alive.

"Thank f__k for that" I said much louder this time.

It was time to exit stage left. No way I was waiting around for him to wake up so I could do the whole "Remember me?" routine. If Charlotte came in at this moment she'd have a fit.

"Bye d__khead".

I wandered out into the relative sunshine and headed back to the car. Through the window I could see Charlotte smiling at me as I approached. The entrance to the changings rooms was positioned as such so that she might not actually have seen George follow me in. It depends from which angle he approached from. She didn't mention having seen anyone when I hopped back into the passenger seat.

"Have fun in there?" she asked, turning the key in the ignition.

"Oh by George I did" I replied.

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21/02/09, League Match 33 (Att - 5702)

Port Vale v Luton Town

GK - Dean Brill

DL - Sol Davis

DR - Claude Gnakpa

DC - George Pilkington

DC - Ronny Johnson

AMR - Paul McVeigh

AML - Robert Eagle

MC - Keith Keane

MC - Matthew Gill

FC - Chris Martin

FC - Vincent Pericard

It was Martin back in for Morgan. That aside I went for an unchanged team. I was hoping the good form we showed against Brentford would continue into this match, our third away trip on the trot. If we could keep that same dedication and focus, I was confident we might get a win. We can't keep playing better than the opposition and not winning. Sooner or later that coveted away win HAS to arrive. It just has to. Port Vale matched our 4.4.2 formation for this match. They were 9th in the table before kick-off.

It was our boys who started the match on top. Martin was sent clean through from a long ball in only the 3rd minute. His first touch was poor though meaning he eventually had to take a shot from the edge of the area rather than dribble it close to the goalkeeper. The shot itself wasn't bad but the keeper was equal to it to parry away. I

n the 7th minute Keith Keane had the chance to take a direct free kick from just outside the area. It was a good shooting opportunity but the shot failed to clear the wall and was deflected behind for a corner. The corner itself came to nothing.

A lull in play occurred after this but I was happy enough with how we were playing. We weren't giving the home side anything. In fact the game seemed to be being played entirely in the Port Vale half. In the 30th minute Keane again shot from the edge of the area, this time in open play, and this time it went straight wide.

In the 36th minute the home team managed their first attack, striker Luke Rodgers cutting back in from the touchline and firing a wild shot over the bar. The same player did much better in the 38th minute, this time going a mazy run from a more central position and forcing Brill to tip over the bar. The corner came to nothing.

0-0 at half time then and I was reasonaly satisfied with what I'd seen. Unlike in most away matches we hadn't given away the early goal, so I was hopeful we could go on and take advantage. I told the players they really could do it today! I hoped they'd be inspired by my words. Alas, we didn't come back out for the second half in the right frame of mind at all. Vale went straight on the attack, and from a corner there was a bullet header from somebody which went narrowly over the bar. Then a goalmouth scramble from another attack pinballed around about eight players before we finally prodded it behind for yet another corner. This time though it was met by the head of Gnakpa.

At one point in the first half we were 4-0 ahead in the shots column. Now though we were behind 4-5. Things had completely turned around and I needed to make substitutions. On came the fit again O'Connor for McVeigh and Owusu for Eagle. The fresh legs on the wings though didn't make a blind bit of difference, and in the next ten minutes alone Brill had to make saves from two one on one situations. In one last desperate throw of the dice to weather the storm, I threw on Morgan for Martin. This didn't make any difference either. We were completely buggered as an attacking threat in this match; the only winners now were going to be Vale. Where had the Luton gone which had started the match on top?

As the game began to tick towards its conclusion, I came to the realisation I was probably going to have to settle for a draw. In the 80th minute we ventured into the Vale penalty area for the first time in the second half, but Morgan got the ball stuck underneath his feet and a defender managed to hack it clear before he could get a shot away.

Then the home side had a great chance to grab a late winner - one of their strikers found himself a yard from goal at a slight angle in a crowded penalty area. It was practically an open goal but the player contrived to hit it into the side netting. In stoppage time we had the chance to hurl a long throw into their penalty area and for a second I was starting to get excited. The throw however was headed clear and an incisive breakaway gave Rodgers the chance to shoot wide when he should have done better. Game over.

We lost the match 4-9 on shots, finishing poorly when we had started so well. I can only think we possibly over-exerted ourselves too much in the early stages. Port Vale have a very long pitch and maybe they've learnt how to pace themselves on it better than most sides. Anyway, Macclesfield's 1-0 win away to Accrington means we've now slipped fifteen points behind the safety line and look even more doomed than we did this time last week. Only thirteen more games of this torture to go. Then we can plan for next season.

FINAL SCORE (Att - 5702)

Port Vale 0

Luton Town 0

(Table with 33/46 league games gone. We have 8 wins, 16 draws, 9 defeats)

Accrington (36)

Wycombe (35)

Macclesfield (25)

Chester City (25)

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Bournemouth (21)

Luton Town (10)

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24/02/09 - Theatre of dreams

After over a week of being separated from my office pals, the whole thing had started to get a little bit jarring to say the least. Sure I still sometimes see them in the canteen at lunchtimes, but I miss that over-the-monitor banter you can only get when sharing a joke on the company’s time. Hell I even miss the actual smell of the office. I had to get back in there somehow today, even if it was just for a little while.

I got my chance earlier this afternoon when I saw Oakenbridge plonk herself down in the canteen with a sandwich, a latte, and a copy of The Telegraph. She looked like she was bedding herself in for a while so I thought this would be the perfect moment to slip down to the communal offices and say hello to anyone around.

“Hello hello” I said, like an old-school policeman.

“James!” exclaimed Nicky from her desk.

“Hey James” said Alison.

These two were the only ones here at the moment. Still, it was better than nothing. As I began to walk towards them though Alison got a call on her mobile.

“How’s it going?” I asked, walking over to Nicky’s desk and propping myself up on the corner of it.

“Horrible! It’s just horrible in here”.

“How was Valentine’s Day? Did you get many cards?”

Nicky blushed and reached under the desk. Then she pulled out a cardboard box and placed it out in front of her. Inside I could see a stack full of red and pink cards, not to mention various other anomolies such as small teddy bears and red roses.

“Seven to be exact” came her delayed response. “Four of them were from players”.

“Which ones?” I asked, suppressing a laugh.

“Let me remember – Keith Keane, hmmmm Paul McVeigh, Mark Farthing, and errr Ian Roper. Keith’s was the best though. He even asked me out inside the card! Technically speaking, I know I vowed to never again date a footballer, but seeing as Keith’s card was so nice, I thought I’d make just this one exception. So basically, to cut a long story short, me and him are going out next week”.

“Cosmic” I said, doing my best to smile.

“Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed, clapping her hands together (four bangles simultaneously slipped down her forearm as she did so). “I forgot to tell you, Caroline got a card that was even better than any of mine!”

“Really? How’s that?”

“Because it was anonymous” Alison chipped in with, flicking her mobile phone shut. “Nicky is of the opinion that anonymous cards are the best type of Valentine’s cards you can get. In fact, just before you came in she was expressing how much she really wished that at least one of her SEVEN cards had been anonymous”.

“No anonymous ones eh, Nicky? That must have put a real dampener on the whole day for you”.

“It did!” she said. “Anyway, check out this poem the anonymous guy sent to Caroline. She typed it into her E-mail and sent me a copy”.

Before I could fully compute this development, Nicky clicked into her E-mails and began reading out the poem.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, in the whole of Kenilworth Road, there will only ever be you”.

Nicky brielfy paused at the end. Then she and Alison both began laughing

“Keep reading to the end!” Alison encouraged her.

“Okay, the rest goes – Lillies are whites, dandylions are yellow, you could be the girl, who makes me a fine fine fellow”.

This time they both began laughing even louder.

“No matter how times I hear it” Alison chuckled. “It never stops being funny, especially that fellow bit at the end. It sounds like something off Pride and Prejudice”.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point there” I laughed. “Obviously whoever wrote it is a real loser”.

“Completely!” Nicky said. “Not that Caroline will hear a word of such an opinion. As far as she’s concerned, the guy who wrote this is her one and only handsome prince. She’s determined to find out who wrote it”.

“She is?” I asked blankly.

“Absolutely. She’s planning to match up the handwriting to everybody’s in the entire building – office staff, players, everybody. She says it will take her a while, but she’s determined to follow this through”.

“How come you haven’t got all your cards strewn around your desk” I enquired, deciding a change of tact would be good for my heart rate.

“Oakenbridge, as you’d expect. She banned us from having Valentine cards on our desk. She even made Alison get rid of the framed picture she had next to her phone and her and Paul getting married".

"God that woman makes me mad" I said. "I think the worst thing is - ".

Before I could finish, Nicky pulled me towards her and put one finger to her lips as if telling me to shush. Then she beckoned me to slip underneath her desk and crouch down out of sight. Maybe because it was Nicky of all people doing this, I went along with it. Seconds later her reasons became clear.

"Lunchtime ends in precisely three minutes, people".

It was Oakenbridge, as you'd expect. My brain though was a little bit more pre-occupied with the fact I was sitting between Nicky's legs. I tried to be a gentleman about this and close my eyes as I listened to queen bi__h in the background (and that was presumably what Nicky wanted me to witness), but I could still smell Nicky's perfume at exceedingly close quarters and it was driving me crazy.

In the next few minutes both Darren and Brenda returned for their afternoon session. Caroline though was late, at least according to Oakenbridge.

"This is the second time you've been late in the past week" she remarked.

"I'm not late!" Caroline protested. "I'm exactly on time".

"Not according to my watch. You're thirty seconds late. I'm giving you a verbal warning for the combined offences of being late back from your lunch and answering me back".

"But - "

"Would you like to make it a written warning?"

"No".

"Well then. Back to your desk and on with your work".

It was approximately forty minutes before Oakenbridge wandered off to the toilet, therefore giving me the chance to escape. As for the looks on the faces of Darren, Brenda, and Caroline as I emerged from beneath Nicky's desk.. well I'll leave it to your imagination. I'll also leave to your imagination the daydreams I just couldn't help daydreaming when I was parked under there. It was like being hunched down in my own little theatre of dreams.

'Mind back on the football!' I screamed at myself as I walked back to my office. 'Back on the football!'

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25/02/09 - Too many cooks

I was getting really frustrated this afternoon. I had tons of things to do in my office but people kept interrupting me. I had scout reports to look at, videos of future opponents to watch, other clubs to call up about possible loan deals, and many more. People though kept bugging me with stupid things. Said people seemed to be almost exclusively the Kenilworth Road newbies too. First up it was Glynn Edwards.

"Hey James!" he said down the phone. "Listen - "

"No you listen, Glynn. I'm really busy right now. I'll call you back tomorrow when I get the chance to - "

"That's fine" he interrupted. "Let me just tell you what it is I need to go over with you though. I need to do some work with you about your press conference skills. It was a very big issue during my interview for the job and it's one I want to tackle very early doors. What I propose is for us to meet up in my office and - "

I put the phone down at this point. He was dragging the call on for far too long. He tried calling back straight away but I just let the phone ring and ring.

Twenty minutes later though I had another annoying call, this time from Margaret Oakenbridge.

"Hello?"

"James? It's Margaret. Are you the person who put a whoopee cushion on my chair earlier today when I was out getting my lunch? I know full well what you think of me and if it turns out you're behind this I won't hesitate to inform - "

Down went the phone. I really couldn't be bothered even justifying a response to that. If you're wondering, no I wasn't responsible. I imagine though it was probably Darren (If I really had to guess).

Just when I thought my patience couldn't possibly be stretched any further, physio Joe Dunbar called me up ten minutes later with some rather disturbing news.

"James, that foreign doctor is down here in the treatment room again. He's started doing some kind of local procedure on Kevin Nicholls' right thigh".

"So? He's a doctor. As much as you don't like him, just let him get on with it. I've got a lot of work to do today Joe".

"James, I don't think you're quite understanding the implications of this. The guys speaks NO ENGLISH. How could he possibly be allowed to operate on anybody? He can't communicate with me or the player during the process of what he's doing. If anything goes wrong with what he's doing to Kevin then the legal rammifications for the club could be too frightening to even comprehend".

"Christ, I'll be right down".

Now my blood pressure really was boiling, and Jorkic was going to be the one to pay for it. I left my office and hurried down to the treatment room on the ground floor. Without even saying a word to either Dunbar or Jorkic, I marched straight up behind the Serbian and brought my hand down on the back of his neck. Jorkic crumbled to the floor in a heap.

"F_k me, boss!" Nicholls shouted, sliding off the treatment table as best as he could with the state his leg was in.

In the meantime I knelt down and checked the downed man's pulse; for an unconscious man it was fine.

"Sorry Kevin but if he can't speak English he could potentially do you more harm than good. Joe, grab his legs. We're going to drop him off outside the chairman's office. He'll be fine. He's only unconscious. Grab his legs".

"What was that Bruce Lee s__t with the karate chop?" Joe asked, trying to mimick what I'd done with one of his hands.

"Never mind! Grab his legs! Kevin, you wait here for Joe to get back. He'll take a look at your leg once we're done".

"Okay".

Me and Joe then proceeded to carry Doctor Jorkic up two flights of steps. Thankfully we didn't pass anybody en route! One person I knew we definitely would have to come into contact with though was Katrina, whose secretarial desk is right outside Dilic's office. I'll spare you a written impersonation of her shock when she saw us approach her carrying what at first glance probably looked like a dead body.

"Is Mr Dilic in?" I whispered, as we propped Jorkic up against the wall to the side of the chairman's office.

"No, he is out. He is due back in about fifteen minutes".

"Good. Pass me a memo sheet and a pen. Please, Katrina".

She indulged my request and soon I was scribbling down a hurried explanation for Dilic.

Hi Mr Dilic.

Sorry to knock your doctor out but he was performing a minor operation on a player when he has no right to even be in the treatment room. He doesn't appear to be able to speak English and he is very aggressive and rude to our physio Joe Dunbar. The potential legal problems we might face if your doctor was to mess up an operation in this building are HUGE. Whatever other roles you have in mind for him at Luton FC, please keep him out of the treatment room until he can successfully overcome the language barrier. Is it ESSENTIAL he can communicate with both Joe and our patients if he is to be allowed to treat at the club.

James Martin

I passed the memo to Katrina and beckoned Joe to start heading back towards the stairs.

"Please give Mr Dilic that when he returns".

"Vill do".

Two minutes later I was back in my office with the door firmly locked. I was nervous now. Would I be in trouble for my actions? We would see. I was hopeful though Dilic would understand both my point and my methods. Only time would tell. In the meantime, I tried my best to get back to the business of the player reports.

[WelshWolf]

finally managed to catch up with this, and to say I enjoyed it is an understatement! Well done, your ability at writing is amazing.

Please keeep it up...

[Dickie12]

I'll tell you what. Im enjoying this so much that if you published it as a book I'd buy it! Lol! Theres just so many twists and turns. Brilliant! Keep it up!

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks Welshwolf and Dickie, those are very nice compliments indeed. I'm enjoying the game and story more than ever. I've no intention to quit just yet, unless my laptop explodes of course

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28/02/09 - At home with the Foxes

We were scheduled to play Bournemouth at home today but the match was called off an hour before kick off due to a waterlogged pitch. This was the first postponed game of my managerial career. In a way though I'm glad it happened. Because of our league position, every match we play brings with it a huge amount of pressure and expectation. For me to be able to dodge that pressure even for just a few days is very welcome, at least for me.

I guess it depends on your character. Some managers would want to get the game over and done because they find it hard to stand the tension of waiting around. I'm in the opposite camp; I'm happy to patiently put it off for another day and be grateful the players have extra time to rest. Having said that, if we were comfortably mid-table and thus comfortably meeting the expectations of the board, I might want the game over with just so I could get that little bit closer to my summer holidays. Anyway, the game will now be replayed in midweek.

I'd arranged to meet Brian down The Hatters Arms in the early evening. Halfway there though I got a call from Brian himself. Because it was still raining, I had to run to the nearest bus shelter before answering the phone.

"Yeah what's up, Brian?"

"James, I'm a running a little late here. Alice is being a bit longer with the tea than normal".

"That's okay, I can sit in the pub by myself for a little while. I am an adult".

"Actually, we were thinking - why don't you come over? We're having lasagne but we always make more than we need".

"I don't know Brian. I really - ".

"James, just come over. Alice is dying to meet you. Besides, I've got something to show you".

"Oh alright".

"I forgot to ask you at the ground earlier - Any news on Jorkic?"

"Nope. I haven’t had a call about it, an E-mail, or even a retaliation visit from any thugs. It seems like Dilic is letting this one ride. Jorkic hasn't been seen around the place since I knocked him out either. It's as if the big man actually has seen my point of view on this one".

"You be careful though. It wouldn't surprise me if he waited a while to get revenge just so he can catch you when you least expect it".

"No I don't think so on this one. Three things; Number one, he surely knows I'm completely 100% in the right over Jorkic. Number two, I'm the manager. He can't treat me like he did Steve Fairclough so easily. Number three, I figure him to be the sort of saddo who probably respects people who make their point through violence. I can actually imagine him sat there saying to Brute - 'Heh, this lad has big cojones! Good good!"

"Alright, I'll take your word for it on this one. Let me give you some directions to the house".

Five minutes later I was knocking on Brian's front door. He only lives a few streets away from the ground; it's the main reason why he so easily twisted my arm. Two blonde and very bubbly young girls (of primary school age) answered the door.

"Evening ladies" I said.

"James, come through" Brian said, suddenly appearing from the kitchen. "These are my daughters - Sadie and Penny".

"Pleased to meet you" I said, nodding downwards at the two grinning faces. Both had chocolate around their mouths.

I could see straight away it was a small house, but given how many times over the years Brian and his family have apparently moved from club to club, I suppose they could be forgiven for not yet putting down any firm roots. I also had to remind myself that Brian probably doesn't earn anywhere even close to the 70k per annum that I earn. Nicky would know exactly how much he earns but I'm hardly going to ask her. My guess would be 30-40k and that probably doesn't go a long way down here in the south.

Pottering around in the kitchen with an apron on was Alice, who I quickly assumed was about Brian's age. She's a plump but cheery woman and I took a mild liking to her the moment we were introduced. Finally there was Lucy and Laicey, two dogs who had been out in the back garden at the time of my arrival but now came bounding in to check me out. Laicey was a small red-coated king charles cavaliar. Lucy was a much larger dog, a crossbreed of a german Shephard and a greyhound. She had a black and grey coat and completely dwarfed Laicey in the height department. Both dogs seemed friendly enough. In fact the whole house seemed friendly and welcoming. Being Brian's house I suppose I should have expected nothing less.

Once all the introductions were taken care of, Brian steered me into the dining room. There was a large table in here where five places had already been neatly set out for dinner. Brian however wasn't leading me to the table just this minute but to the stereo system over in the corner.

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28/02/09 - 909693

"You're going to love this" he said, fiddling around with the various switches. "Last Sunday I was listening to '606' on Radio 5, you know, the phone-in talkshow? I always tape it when I listen to it just in case the club I'm working at happens to get a mention. Anyway, for the first time this season Luton got a mention. I didn't tell you before because I was waiting for when I could get you around here".

"Okay" I chuckled. "Turn it on".

Now ready to go, Brian pressed play.

"Mike, I agree with you!" came the familiar voice of Alan Green. "The trouble is, where are West Ham going to get the money to buy an Ashley Young, or a Wayne Rooney? I just can't see it. Anyway, thanks for your call. Hopefully things will pick up soon for The Hammers. Now then, we're going to go to Line Two and errrr Danny from Luton".

"Hello Alan. Hope you're well".

"Haha, I'm just fine Danny. Go ahead, what would you like to say this evening?"

"Well I'm calling about Luton Town really. I know you don't usually cover League Two much but - "

"Now let me stop you there, Danny. We do cover League Two. In fact we cover any league. It's always nice to hear from further down the divisons, and especially about a fine club like Luton. I was very distressed to hear about the thirty point penalty earlier in the season. How are things at Kenilworth Road?"

"Not so great, Alan, to be honest. We're going out of the football league unfortunately. We've tried hard to wipe out the deficit and get out of trouble but it's just not happening".

"Who's the manager down there at the moment?" Alan asked.

"A guy called James Martin. He's relatively new to the management game. He's not done too bad though I suppose".

At that moment Alice appeared in the doorway and Brian felt compelled to stop the tape.

"Can we all start sitting around the table now please? The food's ready!"

"Yeah, just a minute" Brian replied.

"Can you go and get Sadie and Penny whilst I'm serving up, too?"

"Okay".

As Alice disappeared back into the kitchen again, Brian pressed play but then began to walk out of the room.

"Finish it without me. I'm going to get the girls".

"Okay".

I turned my attention back to the tape recorder. Danny, the caller on Line Two, was explaining how he had no idea where James Martin came from before he joined Luton.

"Well" Alan interrupted. "Obviously I haven't seen Luton myself this season, but if the manager is doing reasonably okay under a difficult set of circumstances, maybe it's best to stick with him for at least the forseeable future and see what he can do on a level playing field. In my opinion, far too many clubs change their managers too early these days and it's absolutely ludicrous".

"To be honest with you Alan, I'm not actually against Martin getting another season. The thing that really gets my goat is the board. We've got this Serbian chairman now who's taken on the club but he's practically invisible. We don't get any written statements from either the chairman or the rest of the board on anything. We don't even get the chairman piece in the programme anymore. All we get is Martin's shipshoddy press conferences, and I'll be frank with you Alan, he's a better manager than he is spokesperson".

"So you want more communication between the new owners and the fans?"

"Yes! Look, we're going out of the football league. We know that. Presumably that's going to have a serious impact on the players, the way the club is run, and god knows what else. What the fans really need in order to feel better about this are some positive statements from the board about the future of the club once we are in the non-league. Because of the lack of communication, lots of fans think the club will be sold again or that some other hideous occurance might be in the pipeline".

"Well, let's just wait and see" Alan said. "I can understand your frustration but let's not jump the gun. Football league or non-league, I'm sure there will always be a place for Luton Town in English football. Thankyou for that, Danny. Let's now go over to a very patient caller on Line Three - Pete from Dover".

"Yeah, hi Alan. Man Utd fan here. Can't believe what I'm watching on TV earlier today! What was Fergie thinking by delaying the substitution like that?"

I turned it off at that point, and in the seconds before the Fox family started streaming in, I just had time to reflect that Danny on Line Two wasn't the only person worried about the lack of positive vibes coming from either chairman or board. After all, my desk (my TRUE desk) has been taken away from me by the club’s main go-to guy, and the new marketing manager has removed my image from the proposed new billboard. You do the maths here! It doesn’t bode well.

The dinner provided by Brian's wife was magnificant. We had lasagne, cabbage, and chips for the main course. Chips aside it was proper home-cooked meal too, not the microwavable crap I usually make. To go with it we had a bottle of red wine, and for desert there was apple crumble drenched in single white cream. I felt compelled to give my compliments to the chef once the after-dinner coffee came out. Quite frankly, if Brian gets fed like this every day I really need to reconsider the whole singledom thing.

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03/03/09, League Match 34

Luton Town v Bournemouth

GK – Dean Brill

DL – Sol Davis

DR – Claude Gnakpa

DC – George Pilkington

DC – Ronny Johnson

MC – Keith Keane

MC – Richard Owusu

AML – Robert Eagle

AMR – Paul McVeigh

FC – Dean Morgan

FC – Vincent Pericard

We were handed a double-blow in the week leading up to this match. Firstly, central midfielder Matthew Gill’s three month loan spell came to an end. We tried to renew it, and we had the consent of both player and parent club in doing so. Unfortunately it came to light at the twelth hour that we have now reached the limit of both small and long term loans allowed. Thus, Gill will not be playing at Kenilworth Road anymore. In his time at our club Gill made a decent contribution, playing 12 games (without scoring) and average a respectable Sun average of 7.05. His services will be missed between now and the end of the season.

Kevin Nicholls will replace Gill in the starting eleven but is having trouble returning to fitness. Physio Joe Dunbar thinks Kevin will be out for at least two more matches. Therefore, I’ve seen it fit to promote versatile 18 year old midfielder Richard Owusu into the starting eleven. Owusu has already popped in and out of the team at several points this season, usually as a substitute. He even scored a crucial equalizing goal in the 3-3 draw against Darlington at Kenilworth Road. Aside from this little problem, we were unchanged for Bournemouth’s visit. The visitors lined up with a tricky 3.5.2 formation.

Our start was shaky. Bournemouth kicked off and went straight on the attack. A minute had barely ticked by when a Cherries player found himself with space to shoot on the edge of the area. The shot was accurate and left Brill in no-mans land. Fortunately for us it cannoned back off the crossbar and we had an early let-off. I noted also during these early stages the fans singing ‘The Great Escape’ theme tune all around the ground. The song ended each time with a big booming “LU-TON!”

It took us until the 12th minute to register our first shot, Pericard shooting high and wide from a difficult angle after being released by Eagle. In the 20th minute, Keith Keane lined up a free kick from about thirty yards out, his eventual power shot being deflected out for a corner. One of these days he might just score one of those. The resulting corner came to nothing. Five minutes later a crucial passage of play began which would shape the rest of the match..

With 25 minutes gone, and Bournemouth pressing down the left wing, a cross to the near post landed perfectly on the head of striker Lee Bradbury about five yards out. He seemed destined to score, but despite there being plenty of pace on the cross, Bradbury’s header wasn’t very powerful. Brill managed to make a great reflex stop, parrying the ball out to the side where Gnakpa could collect and hoof clear. This was our second big let-off of the first half.

A minute later the ball landed at Morgan’s feet about forty yards from goal. He slipped it through to Pericard who advanced on the goalkeeper with defenders either side of him. I’ve been accustomed to our strikers not scoring from these positions this season. However, on this occasion Pericard lofted a beautifully flighted lob shot which went over the goalkeeper and landed perfectly under the crossbar. Gooooooooall!! 1-0!

Back came the Cherries looking for an instant reply, midfielder Holland unleashing a forty yard rocket which Brill had to tip over the bar for a corner. It came to nothing though and the next ten minutes turned out to be just what we needed – quiet and calm with not a lot happening. We even went close to doubling our lead in the 41st minute, Eagle’s left wing cross being headed away only to Keane on the edge of the area. The Irishman controlled the ball, took one touch inside the area, and then scuffed a low shot just wide of the post. The final action of an exciting first half went to Bournemouth, Irwin firing over a long range shot.

We led 5-4 on shots at half time and I encouraged the players to keep going and maybe look to get a second goal. Morale was reasonably good when I said all this so I was hopeful we could go on and get the points (one way or the other anyway). The first fifteen minutes of the second half went exactly to plan. The clock ticked from 45 to 60 without ANY goalmouth action whatsover, and as I made my first substitution of the proceedings, my confidence was starting to grow. It was Owusu I took off, replacing him with Asa Hall.

The first proper action of the second half didn’t arrive until the 73rd minute, when Keane had a free kick over on the left hand side. Instead of cross the ball in, he slid the ball across the edge of the penalty area to the incoming Ronny Johnson. The Norwegian though did exactly what is usually expected of a defender in these situations, blasting the hall high over the bar for a goal kick. In the 77th minute Bournemouth sprang back to life, a cross from the left hand side looping over everybody towards Bradbury at the back post. Events from the first half were almost repeated after this (only with slightly different details), Bradbury’s right foot volley being parried away by Brill. Great save!

As we headed into the final ten minutes, I made a second and third substitution. Firstly I took Morgan off for Martin to get some fresh legs on up front. I also took Pericard off for O’Connor, switching my formation to a defensive 4.4.1.1. Bournemouth had switched to 4.2.4 by this point and things were starting to get somewhat chaotic. As the clock reached the 90th minute, the referee signalled for no fewer than EIGHT minutes of added time! Was he taking the Michael or what? All of our players looked visibly stunned when the 8 minute board went up, and midfielder Holland almost took advantage for the Cherries, forcing his way through and hitting a fine shot to which Brill was equal. My keeper was having a truly great game today.

Thankfully there were no more threats on our goal, and the only remaining action was for Martin to sneak through the Bournemouth defence in the 98th minute only to get tackled before he could get a shot away. Much to mine and the crowd’s frustration, the referee didn’t blow the final whistle until we were in the 100th minute of the match. When he did finally end the game though, there was much celebration around the ground. We had kept our hopes alive with a crucial win against a fellow relegation candidate!

FINAL SCORE (Att 6770)

Luton Town 1 (Pericard 26)

Bournemouth 0

(Table after 34/46 games. We have 9 wins, 16 draws, 9 defeats)

Notts County (40)

Chesterfield (38)

Chester City (29)

Macclesfield (26)

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Bournemouth (22)

Luton Town (13)

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February round-up

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Premiership

Top - Arsenal (59), Liverpool (58), Man Utd (56), Chelsea (51), Tottenham (48), Wigan (42), Aston Villa (40), Man City (40)

Bottom - Middlesbrough (27), Fulham (26), Bolton (26), Stoke City (26), West Ham (26), Hull City (24), Portsmouth (22)

This is now turning out to be the most exciting premiership race there has ever been. As late as March there are surely three clubs still in the hunt for the title, with Arsene Wenger's young guns marginally in front of the others. Chelsea are slipping out of the race and might want to focus and guarding their champion's league spot from the ever-improving Tottenham. Curiously, Arsenal now have the top TWO leading goalscorers in the league - Robin Van Persie (16) and Emmanual Adebayor (14).

Wigan deserve a mention in this update. The unfancied Lancashire side have broken into the top six and might just fancy their chances of an assault on Europe. At the bottom the media are finding it nearly impossible to decide which three clubs will get relegated. The bottom seven clubs are separated by just five points. Portsmouth though are in a bigger mess than anybody else. After a good run in January, West Ham have once again slipped into the relegation zone on goal difference. I hope Tony Pulis can keep Stoke in the premier league; he's a good man.

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Championship

Top - Reading (68), Ipswich (64), Bristol City (63), Southampton (59), Sheff Utd (57), Cardiff City (56), Derby (56)

Bottom - Q.P.R (36), Crystal Palace (34), Swansea City (33), Watford (31), Blackpool (31)

The home stretch is firmly within Reading's sights; they lead by four points again and should hang on to at least clinch promotion. Striker Kevin Doyle is now the league's top goalscorer once again with 20 goals. Ipswich and Bristol City seem destined to fight it out for the runners up spot. You'd make Ipswich favourites but the Ashton Gate side have refused to go away all season. The playoffs meanwhile are full of big clubs for whom an assault on the automatic promotion places is starting to slip away.

Nottingham Forest have gone on good run to move away from the relegation zone, and Crystal Palace have climbed out of it too. Watford are now the big club down in the dirt, together with Swansea and relegation favourites Blackpool. It would be quite a fall from grace if the Vicarage Road outfit took the plunge; it only seems like yesterday they were in the Premiership. When was that by the way - 06/07 season?

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League One

Top - Leeds (71), Oldham (61), Millwall (60), Leicester (58), Leyton Orient (57), Scunthorpe (57), Crewe (55)

Bottom - Stockport (40), Southend (37), Yeovil (37), Bristol Rovers (35), Walsall (31), Hereford (21)

All smiles at Elland Road where Leeds have had a super February to move ten points clear of the pack. They are now completely nailed on for promotion and can boast at being the best placed side of anybody in this round-up. Oldham are clinging onto the second but will surely be pushed in the latter stages by a Leicester side desperate to make an immediate return to The Championship. Millwall may also have a big say.

Hereford strung together nine points in the month of February yet still remain an obscene distance away from the safety area. Walsall also look like joining them in League 2. Perhaps the most closely fought thing in this division at the moment is the golden boot competition. Four players are currently tied in first place - Jermaine Beckford of Leeds, Calvin Zola of Crewe, Paul Hayes of Scunthorpe, and Simon Cox of Swindon.

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League Two

Top - Shrewsbury (67), Darlington (64), Bury (63), Rochdale (62), Bradford (58), Exeter City (54), Brentford (53), Morecambe (52)

Bottom - Notts County (40), Chesterfield (38), Chester City (29), Macclesfield (26), Bournemouth (22), Luton Town (13)

We've beaten two of the sides in that top five. In fact, I think we've taken at least a point off everybody in that top list except for Exeter, whom we still have to play at home. The league's top goalscorer is still Grant Holt. The Shrewsbury striker now has an incredible 25 league goals to his name and will surely prove just as big a handful in League One next season as he has been in League Two.

The bottom of the league doesn't make for great reading but we're not out of it yet. It's not apparent on the list I've printed, but we do have one game in hand on Macclesfield. We also have to play them at home. We'd need to go on a great run to stay up but I've not given up hope just yet.

Blue Square Premier

Top - Oxford (66), Rushden (65), Torquay (61), York City (60), Cambridge United (60), Wrexham (59)

Bottom - Ebbsfleet (41), Forest Green (36), Altrincham (35), Eastbourne (33), Lewes (32), Barrow (30)

The top six clubs, all of them ex-football league, have well and truly pulled away from the rest now. Conceivably they could all win the league but it looks likely to be either Oxford or Rushden. One of the six though won't even make the playoffs. Despite York's disappointing fall from grace, they still possess the division's top goalscorer. Daniel McBreen now has 22 league goals.

Ebbsfleet have pulled away to relative safety in the relegation tussle down at the bottom. This leaves five clubs battling it out for the one remaining 'safety spot'. The excellent survival record of both Forest Green and Altrincham then, who have both dodged several relegation bullets over the past few years, probably bodes rather badly for Eastbourne, Lewes, and Barrow (all promoted clubs).

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Blue Square North

Top - Farsley Celtic (55), Tamworth (52), Stafford (51), Gateshead (51), Droylsden (49), Hinckley (49)

Bottom - Solihull Moors (32), Vauxhall Motors (31), Kings Lynn (31), Hucknall (27), Burscough (25)

Tight at the top of this one too, where Hinckley outside of the playoffs can still claim to be involved in the title race. Farsley fans would definitely be disappointed to lose it now though. Fans of Tamworth, Stafford, and Gateshead will still dream. Top goalscorer here is still Stalybridge's Nathan Joynes with 18 league goals. With the Manchester club not in contention for promotion, Joynes could be a target for Blue Square Premier clubs in the summer.

Kings Lynn are a much bigger club than those other four down the bottom, so it will be a major disappointment for them if they disappear back down to Step 7 after just one season in the Blue Square North. Vauxhall Motors though have been succeeding against the odds at this level for years. If I was a Linnet I would be hugely concerned.

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Blue Square South

Top - St Albans (57), AFC Wimbledon (54), Chelmsford (52), Havant and Waterlooville (48), Welling (47), Maidenhead (46)

Bottom - Dorchester (33), Bognor Regis (33), Bromley (32), Thurrock (32), Eastleigh (30)

Steve Fairclough followed up his debut win with a crucial 2-2 draw away to leaders St Albans. He then masterminded an equally important 2-1 home win against Chelmsford. St Albans lost that day, so despite still being ahead by three points, they've now played one game more. Wimbledon are the new bookies' favourites for the title. The golden boot race is now a tie between Sam Higgins of Chelmsford and David Gilroy of Bath City, both of whom have 17 league goals.

It's not been a good start for Simon Emery, whom I due to meet in the next week or so. His Bromley side have falled into the quagmire which is the Blue Square South relegation zone, thanks largely to a tremendous run by Bogner Regis. The south coast side seemed a certainly for relegation but maybe not now. Meanwhile, the Eastleigh manager has been sacked and that job is now available. I think I'll pass.

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Next - Grimsby v Luton

[ScottleeSV]

Note of interest - my game time has passed the 1 day mark

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06/03/09 - A dry run

I wasn't anticipating a great deal of enjoyment out of this. I was sat in my usual seat in the ground floor press conference room, only this time there was just Brenda and Glynn for company. The latter had finally got his wish to give me a practice session on how better to answer media questions. He was stood to the side of the room with a notepad and paper. Brenda was here to act as a kind of pretend newspaper columnist - she was sat facing me in the front row of chairs. I'd deliberately told her to avoid sitting in Andy Branston's usual spot in case it unnerved me.

"Okie dokie lemon yolky" Glenn said, following that up by claiming it's apparently one his little sayings.

"Right then" said Brenda, taking her cue to start reading from the piece of paper Glynn had given her. "James, you looked annoyed by the free kick awarded against you in the build up to the Barcelona's first goal. What are your thoughts?"

"Well I errr, I thought it was very harsh. I think Messi definitely made a meal of it.....".

"Stop right there" Glynn said. "Now that's your classic example of letting yourself be baited. Never comment on a bad decision that went against you. Just say you didn't see it. It works for Wenger and it'll work for you. Try it again".

"Well Brenda" I began. "To answer your question, I must admit I didn't actually see that moment. Silly me".

"Excellent" said Glynn. "Next question".

"James, you were seen coming out of Starbucks with a married blonde woman yesterday evening. Is there more to this than meets the eye?".

"I have no comment to make on this" I firmly replied, not wanting to repeat the mistake of mentioning ghosts. Glynn though was not impressed.

"No you can't pass comment on that one. Look, when it's a random moment in a football match, you've pretty much got free license to say you didn't see it, or that you're ignorant of the exact details of said random moment. When it comes to an incident from your private life though where it's blatantly obvious you know what the interviewer is talking about, playing the 'no comment' card just arouses suspicion. That isn't to say you have to tell the truth, mind. If telling the truth is out of the question, as it was with that ghost-hunting thing, you'll need to make up a small white lie. For instance, with the ghost thing you should have just said you were at the office late because you had to go over something work-related with the woman you were spotted with. Let's give it another try using my example question. Brenda, ask the question again".

As Brenda looked down at her piece of paper once more, Glynn slowly began pacing up and down near the wall looking attentive and thoughtful.

"James, you were seen coming out of Starbucks with a married blonde woman yesterday evening. Is there more to this than meets the eye?".

"Absolutely not. We were just having a pleasant coffee and a chat".

"Very good!" Glynn exclaimed. "The coffee line is a good one because you can use it pretty much anywhere, not just for coffee houses. You probably could have used it instead of the ghost thing and got away with it. Next question".

"James, rumours are afoot that Keith Keane is currently seeing one of the club's office staff, a young lady by the name of Nicky Willacy. Can you comment on this?"

Now that one stumped me. I at least wanted to give it a go though.

"Errr, well I'm not sure. Last I heard they were.....".

"No no no" said Glynn. "If you're asked a question about somebody else's personal life, just tell the interviewer to go ask them instead. Simple enough isn't it? Next question".

"James, one of your fellow managers asked me this question the other day - If a woodchuck could chuck wood, how much wood would a woodchuck chuck? I didn't know the answer though. Do you?"

"You've got to be kidding me" I replied, looking at Glynn.

"No, it's a serious question!" he retorted. "This is what I call an 'atmosphere question'. During the course of a press conference, or an interview, the interviewer will often slip in a pointless kind of lighthearted question which has absolutely no bearing on the rest of the proceedings. What it does do though is give the opportunity for the interviewer to lighten the atmosphere a little bit, or he might even just want to suck up to the person being interviewed by giving him a question with no pressure attached to it. You won't always see this though. Sometimes the interviewer will want to keep the pressure on all the way through, and not all interviewers care about their relationships with managers".

"How am I supposed to answer such a question?"

"Just do a small laugh and say anything appropriate to the type of question you've been asked. In this instance you could just say that you don't even know what a woodchuck is".

"Fair enough. Can we take a break now?"

I'll give Glynn his due; he definitely seems to know his stuff. By now though my head was swimming and I was more than a little bored. All this effort just for a sodding press conference! I reckoned I'd learnt one or two useful things but I still fancied I'd forget them once the real thing rolled around again. Brenda looked even more bored than me. At first she'd been very happy to get this gig (as my secretary she'd been offered it by default), but now she looked almost keen to get back to Oakenbridge and the 'offices of silence' as we now referred to them outside of hours.

"Oh okay" Glynn said after thinking about it for a moment or two. "In fact, let's just call it a day for now. If you have another press conference before we next practice though, think about what you've learned. Remember, this game is 90% stock answers and 10% your honest opinion. Remember that and you'll go a long way".

"Don't worry, I'll do much better next time" I replied, and with that we all evacuated the room.

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10/03/09 - Super Cassienova

The National Fishing Heritage Museum was my first port of call today. It's a museum located at Alexandra Dock in Grimsby, the town itself being our destination for the football later in the afternoon. The museum tells the tale of how fishermen used to live in the old days, from their life in the harbours to how they plied their trade on trawlers. There's a retired boat offshore called 'The Ross Tiger'. Paying visitors are allowed a guided tour on this to sample some of the conditions fishermen had to put up with in the old days. The guy who gave me (and several others) my tour was a former trawler dude himself, and he didn't hold back in his descriptions of the dangerous waters, cramped accommodation, and appalling weather conditions. I'll give the guy credit ; his gritty seadog voice injected some spark into what otherwise might have been a fairly mundane tour. I love museums but I'm not keen on guided tours. I much prefer to do the touring and exploring myself. Anyway, I only had to put up with 'Captain Mannion', as he referred to himself, on the actual boat. The dry land segments of the museum grounds are largely unnmanned.

On land there are some reconstructions of how Grimsby back alleys looked in the 1950's. There's also a old-style living room, a mock pub, dockside shops, and something known as a settling office where fishermen used to collect their pay. This week only there was a special exhibition on called 'Titanic : Honour and Glory'. As you would expect this was largely centred around the famous ship which sank after hitting an iceberg, although there were some other ships of the times featured as well. On display were artefacts, interior ship fittings, and various other bits and bobs too. It just so happens I love the film of "Titanic", so I probably spent more time in this section than the rest of the museum combined. Kate Winslet and Leo Di Caprio weren't around to give me the lowdown on everything I was looking at, but maybe the Heritage Museum just couldn't afford the appearance fees (or maybe said actors just didn't fancy Grimsby in March).

"Anything interesting" said Cassie from behind me, giving me a startle.

"As a matter of fact - yes. Do you see that watch there behind the glass? That watch is frozen at the exact time the Titanic sank. The person who wore it died in the water but the watch was recovered".

"I guess his time was up then".

I looked sideways at Cassie, who was smiling at her own cheeky joke. There was more a relaxed nature about her today. She wasn't as dressed to impress as she usually was, and even her hair was locked away in an untidy bun. To be fair though, the wind on Grimsby harbour is a downright joke. Anybody who wears their hair long, or wears a skirt out here, is going to regret it.

"How are you anyway?" I asked.

"I'm just fine. You?"

"I'm good. Where are my two best friends today?"

"They're not here so you can quit glancing around".

"I'd have thought they'd be hiding behind the nearest corner, watching to see if I make a move on you".

Cassie shrugged as if to voice the opinion that she didn't have an opinion.

"Shall we have a walk outside? I could do with a coffee".

"Okay".

We wandered outside and slowly began to pace the dock. There were a fair few people around because of the Titanic exhibition, yet thankfully not enough to make us feel crowded and uncomfortable. The only uncomfortable factor today was the wind. As Cassie kindly starting handing money over to a nearby vendor to pay for two coffees, I reflected that playing a long ball game at Blundell Park later on might not be very effective.

"So" she said, as we resumed our walking. "Am I in for another batch of questions concerning my guardian?"

"Nope, just the one today. Then after that we'll talk about other things, just like I promised we would".

"Okay, what's the question?"

I reached into my inside jacket pocket and pulled out a photograph. Then I handed it to Cassie. The picture had been taken inside a parked car. It showed a bald man walking across a car park. Given the presence of a windscreen between camera and target, the details and contours of the man's face were surprisingly clear. If they hadn't been though I wouldn't have bothered bringing it.

"A colleague of mine called Darren took this yesterday. It took him three hours to get the shot and I had to pay him top dollar for his troubles. Do you recognise this man?"

"Yeah, he's Dilic's chief of security" Cassie responded. "He's known as 'Brute', in English anyway".

"Was he one of the men who shot everyone at Twin Humps?"

"Like I told you before, I dropped down behind the table before I could see any faces. I doubt he was one of them though. Dragomir wouldn't let Brute near me so easily if he was one of the men who shot my dad. Whoever those shooters were, they probably stayed in Serbia when we came over here. I must ask again - why are you so interested in Dilic and Twin Humps? A more sensitive girl than me might get offended".

"I'm sorry" I said, sipping my coffee and looking out to sea. "I'm a curious man, always have been. I'll drop it now though. Let's talk about you instead".

"What do you want to know?" Cassie smiled.

"Well, what do you do for work, or college? Where abouts do you live, and in what kind of house? Do you have many English friends already? Do you have a boyfriend? Do you do anything else when you're not at Luton away games? What's your favourite film? That will do for now".

"That's quite a list of questions. I'm not going to answer any before you take me back inside though. I can't cope with this".

She was referring to the wind. If possible it had got even worse by this point, and we could barely hear each other speak over the wailing. We didn't even feel safe drinking our coffees for fear of the cups being blown out of our hands. To escape the wind we rushed back inside the museum and once again stood near to the Titanic exhibition.

"In answer to the college and work question, I'm doing my A-levels at the moment. I'm a year older than everyone else in the class but better late than never. What else did you ask me?"

"Where do you live?"

"We have a small mansion out in the countryside. It's not too far from the Luton football ground. I hope it doesn't sound snobbish when I use the word 'mansion".

"Not at all".

Just then Cassie's phone did a little beep beep. She wrestled it out of her pocket with her spare hand and read what I presumed to be a text message.

"They're ready to pick me up. I'd better head off. You'll have to ask the other questions another time".

"Okay" I said.

"I get to ask you one question before I go though. It's only fair".

"Shoot".

"Do you fancy me?"

She asked this in a matter-of-curiosity tone of voice, which is fair enough. I can't say I enjoyed being put on the spot though. I can't say I answered the question straight away either. In a move of sheer self-defence, I glanced over at all the Titanic memorabilia and took in the comments of a young couple eyeing up some of the ship's frocks and work uniforms.

"These clothes can't be genuine" said the male. "If they were, how could they look so new and fresh? The sinking happening a hundred years ago"

"They're costumes from the film, you dummy! Look, it says down there".

It's nice when someone attractive takes an interest in you, even more so when they just come right out and blatantly ask you if you fancy them back. This though was a girl I'd been directly warned to stay away from. It was almost poetic she would ask me the question right next to a giant cardboard cut-out of the Titanic too. I could actually picture myself sinking to the bottom of the ocean if I wasn't careful here, slipping into the murky depths with chains around my legs and rope around my wrists. I could picture Cassie leaning over the side of a yacht, flanked by two of Dilic's goons and whispering the words - 'Don't worry James, my heart will go on'.

How strange (and potentially stupid then) I eventually answered in the manner I did.

"Like you wouldn't believe".

"Good" she replied, beginning to walk away. "Six away games to go after today, James. See you another time".

"Six too many" I whispered once she was out of earshot.

On the cardboard cut-out, Leo seemed to be grinning more than he had been five minutes ago.

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10/03/09, League Match 35

Grimsby Town v Luton Town

GK - Dean Brill

DL - Sol Davis

DR - Claude Gnakpa

DC - George Pilkington

DC - Ronny Johnson

MC - Keith Keane

MC - Richard Owusu

AML - Robert Eagle

AMR - Paul McVeigh

FC - Chris Martin

FC - Vincent Pericard

Our one change from the win over Bournemouth was to reinstate Martin for Morgan. I'm undecided which of those two are the best, so until then I may continue to alternate. I wanted to bring Kevin Nicholls back from injury today but he wasn't quite ready. Thus, youngster Richard Owusu got another chance to show what he can do. Both teams today lined up with 4.4.2 on a small and windswept pitch which didn't exactly promise much in the way of entertaining football. One can dream though. Grimsby were a comfortable mid-table going into this game so we needed the win much more than they did. The corresponding fixture at Kenilworth Road earlier in the season ended in a 1-1 stalemate.

After complete stalemate in the first seven minutes here, Grimsby's veteran midfielder Dave Brammer got the day's action ball rolling with a forty yard free kick curled towards the top right hand corner. Brill comfortably palmed it over for a corner and the crowd finally showed signs of life. The corner came to nothing. In the 9th minute it was our turn, a long ball from Sol Davis sending Pericard through on goal with only the keeper to beat. It was a good chance to score but the shot wasn't ideally aimed, and the keeper managed to turn it over the bar. Again, the corner came to nothing.

In the 12th minute there was a good deal of head tennis in the centre circle, Morgan eventually winning the ball and threading it through to McVeigh. My right winger had come into a central position about thirty yards from goal. He quickly spotted the keeper off his line and attempted an audacious long range chip shot. The ball beat the keeper but also beat the crossbar, landing on the roof of the net. Then in the 17th minute Pericard once again went through on goal from a long ball. The on-loan striker though was not having a good day. His shot this time was so poor it went straight into the keeper's arms. That was two one-on-ones he'd missed already.

A lull in play occurred after this with not a lot happening. I was content though. We had been the better side and for an away team were looking very comfortable. In the 37th minute we extended our lead in the shots column with another spell of attacking play. On this occasion we had two corners in quick succession before McVeigh managed to lay the ball off for Keane just inside the area. The Irishman's shot though was just wide of the target. He should really have made the keeper work from there.

In the 45th minute a corner from Eagle curled in the ferocious wind and had to be tipped over by the keeper for yet another corner. The second one was cleared out for a throw. Once the ball was chucked once more into the mixer, the ball was hoofed clear and Grimsby managed to go on the counter-attack. They hadn't had a single shot since the seventh minute but Pilkington's slip just inside his own half allowed striker North to go clean through on Brill's goal. To my complete dismay, North blasted the ball inside Brill's near post to give the home side an undeserved lead. 1-0.

For the first ten minutes of the second half our mojo looked completely dishevelled. Grimsby didn't exactly take the game to us but our 'reaction' to my half time teamtalk was practically non-existent. Our hosts almost doubled their lead in the 52nd minute but Perry fired wide. In the 55th minute, Keane managed to poke the ball through to Martin on the right hand side. The Norwich striker's pace took him through on goal but from an angle which was probably too tight to score from. That's not to say he didn't try, and the keeper only managed to parry it away by standing firm. The ball came out to Keane who hit a quick shot towards the empty goal. The only trouble was, I wasn't sure it was going in!

But it DID go in! It hit the post and bounced across the line! Gooooooooal. 1-1. We were level! We had a way back into the match. The only thing was, our goal seemed to rejuvenate Grimsby. They produced their best spell of the match after the equalizer. I don't know why but we never seem to play well just before and just after I make my first substitution. Today that initial change was Asa Hall coming on for Owusu. The usually out-of-favour Hall though wasn't much good today. He just didn't get in enough interceptions and tackles. He's very lightweight, it has to be said.

Grimby's pressure resulted in narrow misses in both the 61st and 66th minutes, both shots from inside the area which flashed wide of the post. Best chance of the bunch came just one minute after that in the 67th minute; goalscorer North fired a firm shot across Brill and it looked to be going into the bottom left hand corner. Enter Charles Gnakpa though, who somehow managed to get back and hack the ball off the line and out for a throw. North then fired over from an angle in the 72nd minute when he probably should have done better.

The deluge prompted me to make my second and third substitutions - Martin off for Morgan and McVeigh off for O'Connor. It didn't stop the pressure though, and a long range shot in the 75th minute rattled Brill's crossbar before he even saw it coming. Just as I was beginning to think about tightening things up to try and settle for a draw, we broke away and Keane managed to free Morgan in a central position through on goal. He dribbled in on the keeper and fired a neat low shot past him and into the net. Gooooooal! 2-1. We'd come from behind to lead AWAY from home. Unbelievable.

All hands to the pump then for the final fifteen minutes. Grimsby weren't done and came at us like a wounded tiger. There were 82 minutes on the clock when the ball broke to one of their defenders in a crowded Luton penalty area. The shot was low and firm but deflected behind for a corner. Once the cross came in, Brill caught hold of it to temporarily ease the pressure. In the 89th minute, a break by O'Connor happened just at the same time the board went up for four minutes of stoppage time.

O'Connor ignored my cries to run down the clock by crossing the ball in. It went over everybody's heads and straight to Eagle on the far side. The left winger dribbled past a defender on the byline and laid the ball back to Keane on the edge of the area, who shot wide. We almost paid for straying too far forward just a minute later when the industrious North shot from the edge of the area, forcing Brill into a smart save close to his right hand post. In the 92nd minute, Barnes shot high over Brill's bar after robbing the tiring Keane in the centre circle. Thankfully, this was the last action.

In the far corner of Blundell Park, the travelling Luton barmy army began to hum The Great Escape theme ("LU-TON!").

FINAL SCORE (Att - 3735)

Grimsby Town 1 (North 45+4)

Luton Town 2 (Keane 55, Morgan 78)

(Table after 35/46 games. We have 10 wins, 16 draws, 9 defeats)

Notts County (40)

Chesterfield (39)

Chester City (30)

Macclesfield (26)

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

Bournemouth (25)

Luton Town (16)

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12/03/09 - Meeting Simon Emery

I finally went to Bromley this afternoon for my much-delayed appointment with Simon Emery, manager of Bromley FC. Despite reluctantly agreeing to meet with me, Emery has certainly laboured over the arranging of the whole thing. It feels like weeks since I first called him up to ask, and it may have been over a month. His most common excuse for putting me off was that he's new to his job and wants to put 100% into it without distractions. Unofficially though I also imagine he was simply not that taken with the idea of meeting the man who beat him to the Luton job. At least, I assume he didn't lose it voluntarily. Today I had the chance to find out what happened.

Before I even left Kenilworth Road, I bumped into Nicky out in the car park. She was stood with her back (and one black high heel) against the wall clutching a cigarette. I could see straight away she wasn't her usual self. She looked lost in space, and the cigarette wasn't even lit.

"Are you going to smoke that?" I queried.

"Nope. Caroline gave me it. I just thought I'd hold it and be a pretend smoker for five minutes".

"Oakenbridge?" I asked, reading between the lines.

"Yep. I've actually got this afternoon off as holiday. Imagine that - I've got half a day off and I'm in a bad mood".

I glanced over towards my car and then back at Nicky. I couldn't afford to hang about here ; I hadn't left myself as long to get to Bromley as I'd hoped to.

"Listen, I've got to go to Bromley on some football business. Want to come keep me company on the drive, maybe listen to some tunes? This is one moment I don't have time to stick around and be the supportive ex-boss".

"Okay" she glumly replied, throwing away the cigarette and taking her heel off the wall.

"You could have given that back to Caroline you know".

"Nah, smoking is bad for her".

It took over two hours but finally we got there. Nicky gradually cheered up throughout the journey, spending much of her time changing the CD in the player and passing many a negative comment on my music collection. On arrival I told her it would be best if she stayed in the car and she seemed happy enough to do that. Bromley's stadium is humerously called 'The Courage Stadium', and it's distinctly non-league nature (only 1300 seats in the entire ground) reminded me of my playing days. I spoke to a guy who looked like Frank Butcher just close to the side of the pitch, and he guided me into a small port-a-cabin next to the clubhouse to speak to Emery.

"You must be Simon" I said, shaking his hand and taking a seat.

"What can I do for you, Mr Martin. I'm quite busy today".

Not a postive start. Emery looked frustrated at my presence. He was a tall man with a geeky posture. He had large glasses and wore a smart brown suit. I guessed that he wore this suit to the ground every single day in an attempt to give off the impression he was a professional manager destined for big things.

"I'll be short and to the point then. I wanted to ask you about the time you were offered the Luton job. It's my understanding you were initially offered the job but didn't end up taking it. Why was that it?"

Emery glared at me across the desk as if I might be taking the p!ss out of him.

"Why are you so bothered? You got the job so why do you care?"

"It's because I'm writing the first few chapters of my autobiography".

It only occured to me a few seconds too late this might sound snobbish. Emery though only sighed heavily and answered the question, not that the answer was very helpful to me.

"A guy called Dave Wheelie interviewed me. Then a few days later he calls me up and tells me I've got the job. We arranged to meet up to sign the contract, but on the morning I was due to drive down from Newcastle where I was living at the time, Wheelie calls to tell me there's been a change of heart by the club and that they were going to go with another guy instead. Obviously that was you".

"Fair enough. I didn't know another guy had initially been offered the job until quite recently. So you have absolutely no idea what induced the change of heart?"

"Absolutely none" replied Emery, crossing his arms and sighing once again.

"Okay, thanks".

I was just about to stand up to leave when my host launched into a speech.

"You know, I found it very unprofessional of Luton to do that. If that's the way they do things in the professional leagues then maybe I'm better off managing at clubs like this. No disrespect to you, Mr Martin, but I did everything right to try and get that job. I got my badges, I got myself some experience lower down the leagues, and I even did loads of research on the history of Luton to try and wow them in the interview".

"I'm sure you would have done a fine job if you'd got it" I said.

"Damn right I would have. I spent hours reading up on Luton Town. I even looked up the story of that damn ghost you ended up chasing".

"What ghost?"

"You know what ghost! You were in the Hertfordshire Herald a while ago claiming you were going after the ghost of Tommy Wiggins. Now personally I've got no doubt at all you were using the ghost story to cover up the fact you were seeing that gorgeous blonde. That's your business though. My point is - I'd researched the story behind that ghost months before you ended up in the papers claiming you didn't even know its name. It struck me then that I'd made more effort to try and get the Luton job than you did".

"The ghost's name is Tommy Wiggins?" I asked, ignoring his implication that he'd deserved the Luton job more than me.

"Well no of course not. There's no such thing as ghosts. If there was a ghost at Kenilworth Road though, the press would probably believe it belonged to Tommy Wiggins".

"Who was Tommy Wiggins?"

"Look it up yourself" Emery said, rising to his feet and offering his hand. "It's been nice to meet you, Mr Martin. I'm really busy though. My best wishes to you and Luton for the rest of the season".

I shook his hand and moved towards the door, deciding that to press the issue would seriously pee this man off.

"Oh" he said just as I reached the door. "If you see Wheelie, tell him from me he's an a$$hole".

I didn't reply to that. Instead I hurried back to the car where Nicky was listening to Lyla by Oasis. Hastily I turned the volume down and started the car.

"Hey, I was listening to that".

"And in a minute you can listen to it again. Before then though, do me a favour. Call Caroline and tell her to look online and see if she can find anything about a guy called Tommy Wiggins".

[ScottleeSV]

12/03/09 - The voyage home

“I can’t get through to her” Nicky informed me from the passenger’s seat. “That’s five times I’ve tried. I know she would have finished work by now but she’ll probably still be on the bus home”.

“Why would that stop her picking up?”

“She probably has her phone on silent. Remember, we have to have our phones on silent during the workday now because of Oakenbridge. Caroline has probably left work without remembering to turn it back off silent. Anyway, I’ve already sent her a text asking her to look up this Tommy Wiggins man. She’ll get back to us when she’s ready. If all else fails, we’ll back in Luton by 7’o’clock anyway. We can look it up ourselves”.

“Okay” I said, as we continued to fizz back down the motorway.

In the gaps between Nicky’s five calls to Caroline thus far, I’d already described to her how the conversation with Emery had played out. We didn’t have the tunes on for the return journey which left much more room for conversation. To puncture the ensuing silence after the fifth call to Caroline, I decided to ask Nicky about Keith Keane.

“How are things going with Keith?”

“Very good” she replied. “He’s a million times better than Kevin Watson, that’s for sure”.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, Kevin was probably a bit too old for me, and Keith’s better looking anyway. Also....”.

She paused, and after glancing at her I asked her why. I also put some sunglasses on at this point because the sun was starting to catch me at a bad angle.

“Oh okay” she continued. “You know, I wouldn’t tell this to many other people apart from you, but going out with Kevin was mainly a kind of a...just-wanting-to-go-out-with-a-footballer kind of thing. I know that sounds pathetic and it probably was, but at the time I just did it without really thinking about it. In my defence, I was eighteen at the time. I’m nineteen and really mature now”.

“What’s different with Keith then?”

“Well, I fancy him in a proper way for one thing. I’d have gone for him even if he worked down the supermarket or something. He’s young, funny, good-looking, and he’s got no ties. What wouldn’t there be to like? It might seem like a coincidence that this is my second footballer in a row but you have to remember – I do work AT a football club. It stands to reason there would be a good chance I might end up meeting a footballer”.

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me” I replied, as we passed a sign welcoming us back to Bedfordshire. “I know you’re no gold digger or anything like that. The Kevin Watson thing was a bit strange but you learn from your mistakes and you move on. If you feel as though Keith is worth giving it a go with then you go for it”.

Even though my eyes were on the road, I could sense she was smiling at me just after I said this. As if then realising I wouldn’t be able to see said smile, Nicky briefly put her right hand on my left leg in a more fitting gesture for the situation. It was at precisely this moment however I screeched the car to a halt as fast I could.

“What the.....” Nicky began, highly disturbed by my sudden manoeuvre.

Behind us a car beeped its horn, and I was forced to drive on another forty yards or so before pulling into a lay-by on the side of the road. We weren’t on the motorway anymore but we were still on one hell of a big main road in the middle of nowhere.

Ignoring Nicky’s question as to what was wrong, I unbuckled my seatbelt and hopped out of the vehicle. Then I moved in front of the bonnet and looked upwards.

“Look, I’m sorry” said my companion, getting out of the passenger’s side and joining me. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. If it bothers you then I won’t put my hand on your leg ever again”.

“You can put your hand on leg anytime you want” I replied. “It’s not the reason I stopped”.

I pointed to a place about fifty feet in the air and just to the side of the road. On top of some mounted poles and stanchions was a huge billboard. It was the ‘New Luton’ poster Glynn had designed back at the offices. He’d already not only put the damn thing together but actually released it into the general population! It was the poster with the blacked out twelfth man, the one I hated.

“Son of a bitch” I said. “We’re not even relegated yet and he’s already announced the era of 'New Luton!”

“We are going to get relegated eventually though aren’t we? Keith was saying we are anyway”.

“Not necessarily. We’ve won two in a row! We’re on a roll!”

“But Keith thinks that....”.

“Look, let’s not get into it. Let’s just get back to the office. Can you drive? I want to call Caroline again”.

“Sure”.

We got back into the car only this time with me in the passenger side. I dialled Caroline’s number and remarkably got through first time.

“Hi James” she said before I could saying anything. “You’ve picked a good moment. I’m literally just in the middle of looking up this Tommy Wiggins chap online”.

“What have you found?”

“Well he was a kid, not an adult. He died in 1999 at the age of just 12. He was from Luton and was a big Luton Town fan according to this old article. He didn’t die inside Kenilworth Road though which is obviously why we couldn’t find anything on him when we looked all those months ago. He was murdered down a local park by a couple of young thugs, and that's about your lot”.

“Okay, thanks Caroline. We’re almost back in Luton. I’ll let you go”.

We said our goodbyes and hung up our respective phones. Then I repeated to Nicky what Caroline had told me.

“Obviously he still haunts Kenilworth Road because he dreams of being a player there” she said.

“Most likely” I agreed.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know. I’m not done with the subject though. I’ll tell you that much. I'm going to think about it”.

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13/03/09 - Financial hardship

I had a meeting in Erica's office this morning to go over the current state of the finances. I wasn't anticipating any great problems. I'd heard rumours of the club bank balance not looking too healthy, but I'd reduced the weekly wage expenditure considerably since our previous meeting. I fancied that if Erica wanted to tear into me today she was going to have to work hard for the pleasure.

"Right then" she said, once the customary pleasantries had been observed. "Let's get down to business. I'm going to start with the good news, James. You've done reasonably well in reducing wage output over the course of the season. I sensed a bit of a problem when you had it between 35 and 38k a few months ago. Now though I see you're operating at 30.6k, which is only just over your 30k budget".

"Well, I've always been good at watching the pennies" I said lightheartedly. "My mum should be the one to get the credit though; she bought me a piggy bank when I was five and I never looked back".

"Well anyway, just because you've made improvements doesn't mean the situation is particularly commendable. You've still cost the club an awful lot of money this season by always being over budget, and despite the improvements you're still over the budget even if it's only by £600"

"Don't you accountants have to look at something known as 'the trend'? If that's the case then the trend is heading in the right direction, so that can only be good".

I'll admit I had no idea what I was talking about. Conversing with Erica though often brings out the goofy side of me. She's such a steely cold customer that you almost feel it necessary to bring a lighter approach into the room to compensate for her darker approach, almost as if the room itself is depending on you. The funny thing is, to look at she's absolutely gorgeous. On a purely technical level she would probably even oust the other three offices hotties we've got (Nicky, Katrina, Alison) if we held a beauty pagent. Erica though tends to slip under the radar of the men around here, partly because she's not based in the communal offices and partly of course because she never shows much sign of life in the personality department. People with really high up jobs can be like that though, can't they?

"Moving swiftly on" Erica said, ignoring my comment about the trend. "We now come to the bad news. The bad news is, the club is 260k in the red. We're overdrawn and leaking more and more money every month. The crowds for the matches are good, but the wage budget set at the beginning of this season has proven to be completely unsustainable at this level at football".

"So you're saying it's going to be cut for next season?"

"It would most likely be cut anyway given the fact we're going to be dropping a divison. With the bank balance being the way it is at the moment though, that cut is likely to be extra severe".

"We're not relegated yet".

"Excuse me?"

"You said we're going to be dropping a divison. Actually, at this moment in time, we're still in League 2 and we may yet remain in League 2"

"Right" said Erica, looking at me as if I was criminally insane. "Let's go on the assumption for now though that we'll be dropping a division. When we do, the wage budget is likely to be slashed severely".

If you've ever seen the film with Mel Gibson in it called 'Payback', you might remember the running joke whereby every character in the movie keeps telling Gibson's he's owed 140 grand when in actual fact he's only owed 70. Being a man of principal, Gibson constantly corrects everyone who makes the mistake, except right at the end when he finally gives up and just shakes his head like Andy Branston in one of my press conferences. Anyway, I feel the same thing is happening to me right now with this relegation issue. Everybody keeps talking as if we're already relegated and I refuse to accept it. It's getting boring though. Sooner rather than later I'm just going to start shaking my head like Gibson in the torture chair.

"What sort of figures are we looking at?" I asked.

"I've got no idea. Budgets are never decided until well into the close season. If you're still here for next season though I would expect little or no transfer money and I would also expect a severe reduction in available wages. Because you're currently operating over your budget, I would suggest you continue with your 'trend' of chopping people off the books. If you don't then you may well find yourself unable to sign new players for next season".

"What sort of figure do you suggest I try and get the current wages down to?"

"I can only speculate right now. However, if I were you I would certainly look to get the figure down from 30k to 25k by June, and even then you'd only be balancing the books by doing that. If you want any chance of having a good amount of money to rebuild the squad, I'd try and get it down to 20k by June. Whether you accomplish this by loans, transfers, releases, wage-cutting, or by any other means, I'll leave that up to you".

"Okay" I tamely replied.

As I stood up to leave I was almost tempted to pull a Cassie and ask Erica if she fancied me, if only to see if I could break that rock solid exterior for a second or two. I settled though for a nonchalent wave and a "see ya later alligator", to which Erica observed but didn't respond.

Boring bitch

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14/03/09, League Match 36

Luton Town v Aldershot

GK – Dean Brill

DL – Sol Davis

DR – Claude Gnakpa

DC – George Pilkington

DC – Ronny Johnson

AMR – Paul McVeigh

AML – Robert Eagle

MC – Kevin Nicholls

MC – Keith Keane

FC – Dean Morgan

FC – Vincent Pericard

Not that Richard Owusu has done particularly badly for me, but I was delighted to welcome Kevin Nicholls back to the starting line-up after a short time out through injury. Owusu would now drop to the bench and Asa Hall would drop out completely. I also once again swapped Morgan and Martin around. Initially I had been planning to keep faith with Martin. Mr Morgan though had an inspirational light training session earlier in the morning. Instincts told me to pick him, so I did. We lined up with 4.4.2 as did the 13th placed Shots. We’d lost 0-1 to them at The Recreation Ground earlier in the season so I was hoping for much better fortune here.

The first incident came after five minutes. A free kick was won down the Aldershot left close to the byline. Eagle crossed to the near post and Pericard flicked it on into the middle. The ball was met by Gnakpa but his low shot on the volley went straight to the goalkeeper. Good play though! A lull came after that, but when action resumed it was once again down the Aldershot end. This time, with Pericard off the pitch receiving treatment, a neat passing move found McVeigh over on the right hand side. He attempted a shot from here and bizarrely the ball curled into the top right hand corner of the net. Great goal! 1-0.

The only unfortunate by-product of this development was that Pericard was too injured to come back on. Thus, on came Martin a lot earlier than he’d expected. Despite the loss, Aldershot continued to look rubbish and on we pressed for the second goal. Nicholls fired over in the 23rd minute after a lay-off from Martin inside the area. It was a good chance for the returning midfielder and he knew it. He put his hands on his head in disappointment straight after the shot.

There were a number of incidents in the 36th and 37th minutes. Firstly, Nicholls had another shot from further out deflected wide for a corner. We took it short this time and Eagle laid it off for Pilkington just inside the area but from an angle. The defender shot but it predictably went wide. From the resulting goal kick, the ball broke to Aldershot’s Elvins thirty yards from goal. He stepped inside Ronny Johnson but his long range shot went straight down the throat of Brill for a comfortable save. The crowd cheered the irony of the visitors finally mustering an attack.

In the 39th minute there was some neat play down the left wing between Davis and Eagle. The net result was the left back playing a lovely reverse ball into his colleague just in front of the byline. Eagle then rolled in a delightful low cross which was met by the incoming Kevin Nicholls in full flight. The midfielder maestro smashed the ball into the net from about two yards out and it was 2-0! Get in! Nicholls savoured the moment for all it was worth, running like an aeroplane in front of the stand. The crowd were buoyed now and utterly delighted by what they were watching.

There was no further action of note in the half, so we trotted off to near enough a standing ovation. That was easily one of the best halves (if not THE best) of football we’d played all season. I told the players in the dressing room to not let their performance drop. I also praised McVeigh and Nicholls for their mammoth contributions to the scoreline so far. Only forty five minutes to go and then hopefully we would be able to celebrate a third consecutive victory.

Aldershot though had obviously been giving a dressing down at the interval. They returned for the second half looking a lot tighter at the back and a lot more adventurous going forward. We on the other hand appeared to not know whether to stick or twist. In the 49th minute there was a neat build-up from the Shots before midfielder Ben Harding smacked one over from long range. Nothing happened for a while after that, so for the time being anyway I refrained from the temptation to go all defensive. In the 60th minute I withdrew the tiring McVeigh and threw O’Connor on.

In the 62nd minute the visitors conjured their first great opening of the match. Pilkington misjudged a long ball about thirty yards out and after one or two ricochets taking the ball into the penalty area, the ball landed at Gnakpa’s feet on the left hand side. My right back should have cleared it but the ball took a bobble and fell into the path of striker John Grant. He immediately swung his boot to shoot but the shot, although accurate, was also soft. Brill managed to dive down to his right and palm it away.

Grant wasn’t to be denied though. The man who scored the winner against us earlier in the season fired Aldershot back into the game after 66 minutes. A long hoof downfield was again misjudged by Pilkington and Grant took the ball brilliantly under control just inside the penalty area. Remarkably, the touch was so good it also bamboozled the onrushing Brill, leaving Grant the simple task of prodding the ball into an empty net. 2-1 and game on. We never do things easy do we?

The whole ground became nervous after this, and with Nicholls tiring on his comeback I replaced him with Owusu. It was all about holding on now. The game was ticking into its final stages. In the 79th minute though, the equalizer almost came. A throw-in over on the left touchline was dribbled in-field by Harding, whose angled shot was well taken by Brill. For the final ten minutes I switched to counter-attacking, largely defensive football. This worked rather well. In fact, it was during this period we finally launched our first attacks of the entire second period.

First O’Connor took a free kick and blasted it high and wide. I’m not sure why Keane didn’t take it because he was still on the pitch. I can only imagine he’s simply become bored of missing so many and decided to let someone else have a go. If that’s the best O’Connor can do though, we might want to think about handing the responsibility straight back to Keane. Anyway, in the 90th minute we managed a smart passing move on the edge of the area. The ball eventually fell to Morgan who blasted it just wide with the keeper in no-man’s land. That would have sown the game up but not to worry.

With injury time ticking onwards and Aldershot seemingly long out of ideas, the ball found its way to Elvins on the left hand side. He dribbled it down the wing for a few yards and then crossed it in. The ball found its way to the excellent Harding and he hit a hopeful shot on the run. The ball hit the crossbar and bounced down behind the line for a tragic equaliser. Our players all sank to their knees and the crowd began heading for the exits. We won the match 9-7 on shots but we only got one point from it. That’s the second time in the last four home games we’ve only drawn after being two goals clear. In fact it’s the third time this season we’ve done that at Kenilworth Road.

FINAL SCORE (Att - 6282)

Luton Town 2 (McVeigh 19, Nicholls 40)

Aldershot 2 (Grant 66, Harding 90)

(Table after 36/46 games. We have 10 wins, 17 draws, 9 defeats)

Notts County (41)

Chesterfield (39)

Chester City (31)

Macclesfield (26)

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

Bournemouth (25)

Luton Town (17)

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14/03/09 - Tongue tied

I never look forward to press conferences at the best of times, and I particularly don’t look forward to them just after we’ve thrown away a two goal lead at home in the midst of a life or death relegation struggle. The press were going to rip me to shreds over this one, of that I had no doubt at all. On the bright side, I was at least going in there armed with Glynn’s practice advice.

“Now then James” said Andy Branston, a visible smirk on his face. “To say that today’s result is a minor disaster would be something of an understatement. Would you agree?”

“Admittedly it was disappointing. We have to be positive though. We’ve still amassed two wins and two draws from the last four games. We have to try and forget about the two lost points today and move on”.

"This is the third time this season you've thrown away a two goal lead at home. Do you think you're inept when it comes to defending big leads?"

"Nope, just unlucky. Aldershot only had two attacks in the final twenty four minutes today and they scored from them both".

I'd already had enough of Andy so I pointed to Johnathan Pantsil of Five Live Sport, even though Andy still had his hand up. Pantsil meanwhile was strangely dressed like a golfer today. I wondered if he’d been out on the course just prior to turning up?

“James, you were spotted the other day arriving at Kenilworth Road with a young brown haired woman in tow. Can you comment on this?”

This was where Glynn’s advice would come into its own, and not before time. I’d been struggling up until this point. Not anymore though.

(‘The coffee line is a good one because you can use it pretty much anywhere, not just for coffee houses. You probably could have used it instead of the ghost thing and got away with it’)

“Ah, now I believe you’re referring to my payroll administrator - Nicky Willacy. We’re just friends though. She’s very happy with her boyfriend Keith. At the time we were driving back, we were simply having an innocent coffee and a chat”.

“You were drinking coffee whilst driving?” journalist Victoria Thornton asked. “That breaks the motoring laws doesn’t it?”

“Errrr” I replied, searching for inspiration. “I wasn’t using my hands. I was drinking the coffee through a straw. The actual coffee cup was safely trapped between my knees”.

“Must have been one hell of a long straw. Even if drivers are allowed to do that, which I doubt, it still sounds dangerous”.

“Not really. I practice it in the office”.

“You drink coffee out of a straw with the cup between your knees in the office?” Pantsil asked in near disbelief.

“Yeah. I mean no. I mean yeah. Actually, you’re putting words in my mouth. Next question”.

Murmouring around the room inevitably followed. From the sea of raised hands I eventually opted for a man I hadn’t seen before. It seemed as good an option as any.

“Bill Tulip – The Bedfordshire Bulletin. James, this might be a little bit off-topic but what did you make of last night's episode of I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here?"

This sounded like the 'atmosphere question' Glynn had talked about. It certainly had nothing to do with football. Bill had never asked me a question before so maybe he wanted to build up a rapport with me? Wasn't that what Glynn said people often did when they were asking the atmosphere question? Fair enough, I was happy to let him do that.

“Haha” I chuckled. “Yeah, 'I'm a Celebrity', always good for a laugh isn't it?".

Silence around the room.

"James" Bill said, looking shocked. "A man died last night on live television after swallowing Kangeroo genitals. How can you laugh?"

"Errrrrr.....Why don't we move onto the next question?"

I pointed to Brad Scowcroft of The Supporters Trust.

"James, can you comment on the rumour that Keith Keane is seeing one of your office staff - Nicky Willacy".

('If you're asked a question about somebody else's personal life, just tell the interviewer to go ask them instead. Simple enough isn't it?')

"I have no idea about that. You're probably better off asking them".

"But you said earlier in the interview Nicky was seeing somebody called Keith. It's surely Keith Keane, I mean, given that the rumour going around is she's seeing Keith Keane?"

"Errr, did I say that? I can't remember".

"Yes you did" said Andy Branston rising to his feet.

"Okay!" I chuckled, hiding my confusion if not my facial sweat. "That's all for today, folks. See you on Saturday!".

And with that, I got the hell out of there.

"That could have gone better" I said to Brian.

"Yep".

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[Fluro]

A great read so far... keep up the great work

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks Fluro. I made sure to get your name right this time lol. Good to see you pop your head in

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

15/03/09 - The exorcist

This time it wasn't so much about chasing a ghost as laying one to rest. I didn't know what I was going to say when I got out there but I was hoping the words would just come to me when the time came. For now though I was still sat in the canteen near the window, staring out towards the six yard box where Nicky, Chantelle, and Fred had once claimed to have seen Wiggins in his new spiritual form. Being 8.45pm in the evening it was already very dark outside.

"Ah, there you are" said Alison, stepping into the room.

"Hi" I meekly replied.

In behind Alison came Paul, her husband. I hadn't expected him to be coming along. I'd met him only once before when I'd greeted both Alison and Paul in the crowd before a game. As they now both approached my canteen table, I stood up to get re-aquainted.

"James, you remember Paul?"

"Of course. Pleased to meet you again, Paul".

"Likewise" he replied with a smile and a firm handshake. "So then, we're here to see if we can see a ghost are we?"

"Actually, I'm not expecting to actually see anything tonight. I know who he ghost is though so I thought we'd just.....I don't know...go out there and tell him he should rest instead of haunt, I suppose".

"I won't be able to stay as long as we did last time" Alison chipped in with. "We're on our way to a friend's house for dinner. That's why Paul's here. You did say on the phone though that this would be quite quick".

"Indeed. There's no sitting around observing tonight. All I intend to do is go out there, say a few words of comfort to the ghost, and hope that's enough. Then we can all be on our merry way".

"Okay" she replied. "But when you do go out there, I think I'll stay and support you from in here. Out there is just too creepy for me, even with two big strong men beside me".

"Fine".

"There won't be much light out there, even with help from the light in here" Paul said, looking through the window. "Alison, why don't you go back to the car? There's a torch in the boot that will probably come in useful".

"There's one in our office. That will be quicker".

Without further word she slipped out through the door and was gone, leaving myself and Paul alone.

"Now then" he said, raising his finger up towards my face. "Me and you need a quick word about all this".

"Come again?"

Paul's expression had suddenly changed from placid everyday guy to raging green-eyed monster. It was quite the unlikely turnaround, a bit like our game with Aldershot actually.

"Don't play the innocent with me. This is the second time you've invited my wife out on some ridiculous ghost hunt. The first time I could sort of accept it as being a kind of friendly get-to-know-the-boss kind of thing. Now though it's getting old".

"Look, I think you're very mistaken about.....".

"DON'T try and pull the wool over my eyes. I'm not an idiot, and I swear to God, if I ever find out you've put one finger on her I'll turn you into a ghost myself".

"Believe me" I said with the faintest of smiles. "This really isn't the place you want to go throwing your weight around".

Paul lowered his aggressive finger slightly as if trying to work out what I was implying. Before he could respond, Alison returned with the torch from the office. She was dressed in white trousers and a multi-logo purple t-shirt this evening. She looked great too. With a wife like this one, I could almost forgive Paul for being over-protective. Almost.

"Here you go" she said, passing me the torch.

"I'm going to wait here too" Paul said, seating himself at the nearest table. "We'll watch from up here".

"Okay" I said cheerfully, heading out the door.

A minute later I arrived outside and began my slow walk towards the goalposts. Even though it was dark and I was on my own, I wasn't that spooked by the situation. Obviously I believe in the Kenilworth Road ghost or I wouldn't have gone through with this. I wasn't expecting to see the ghost tonight though. I'd spent roughly three hours here with Alison the previous time and seen nothing. What were the chances then I'd see something in the five minutes I was allotting myself for this visit?

Just inside the penalty area I stopped to turn the torch on. If I was going to say anything to Tommy Wiggins, now was the time. For moral support I twisted my head around and glanced up towards Alison and Paul at the window. The former had actually opened the window now so they could hear me speak. Paul meanwhile was stood motionless by her side with his arms crossed, probably thinking I was a dork.

I couldn't help wondering if Alison knew what Paul's opinion of me was? I imagine she probably did. How embarrassing. I'd really mis-judged the situation with those two. From the way Alison had been talking, she'd made out they both liked to sit and watch countless TV shows in their spare time, things like Most Haunted and Supernatural - all that jazz. She'd made out the pair of them had a mild interest in ghosts and that they found the whole Kenilworth Road thing with the haunting equal parts fascinating and irresistable. That didn't seem the case in reality though. I decided I wouldn't bother inviting Alison to anything like this again, and that was a shame.

"Oi! Get a move on!" Paul shouted through the window.

I could be wrong, but I swear I once heard that same voice berate me from behind the dugouts for not substituting McVeigh. It's a funny old world.

"Shush!" I shouted back, putting my fingers to my lips.

I turned around again and faced the goalposts. Nothing was coming out of my mouth though. What do you say to a ghost who not only may or not exist, but may or may not even be listening? It's difficult, and I'm not just talking about that sentence. In fact, this whole situation didn't feel right. I couldn't put my finger on it but I reckoned I was making the wrong play by even being here tonight. It was time to pull the plug.

Ignoring Paul's distant enquiries as to what the hell I was doing, I clicked the torch off and began to head back towards the main building. Paul predictably (together with Alison) cornered me in the corridor long before I made it back to the canteen. That was good though; it meant I could head off for the night without going back up two flights of stairs.

"What happened?" Paul asked with a tone of suspicion. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"It just doesn't feel right" I replied, passing them along the ground floor corridor.

"What do you mean?" Alison called after me.

I stopped for a minute and turned around.

"For one thing, the story doesn't quite add up. As much as I'd like to believe the ghost is Tommy Wiggins, how did Simon Emery come to that conclusion if he hasn't personally made a positive I.D? There must be loads of kids and teenagers who die all over the local parks and hangouts around the county. What automatically makes this kid our ghost?"

Neither one of them replied, so I took my cue to leave. What a wasted trip.

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

17/03/09 - Player release and retention

Further to Erica's request, I've managed to do some trimming of the wage bill over the past week or so. Firstly I've managed to agree the free transfer of Lewis Emmanual to Gillingham, to take place on July 1st. Emmanual earns 1.3k a week on our books so his departure will be a good start. He's a decent left back at this level but had found himself behind both Davis and Byrne (himself yet to start a game!) in the pecking order and unlikely to ever play again. Emmanual played a total of 60 matches for Luton over 4 seasons, and he scored 4 goals in that time. For me though he only made 3 starts without scoring.

Second to go is striker Drew Talbot, also leaving on a free come July 1st. Talbot is currently earning a none too shabby 2.1k. To see the back of him will be very welcome indeed. Talbot has played 10 matches for me this season, scoring just 1 goal. In his overall Luton career he's played 52 matches and scored 5 goals. That's a rather poor record for a striker although I imagine that many of those appearances were as substitute. Talbot will go to Chester in the Blue Square Premier and could well be facing us next season. I'm not particularly frightened by that prospect.

Striker Ryan Charles has gone to Blue Square South strugglers Eastleigh on a free transfer. The rules of transfer between league and non-league must be different because Charles' move was able to go ahead straight away. The departure saves us another 0.4k a week. In his time with me this season Charles scored 1 goal in 19 games (many as substitute), occasionally filling in on the right wing during a time of crisis. I notice that Eastleigh are bottom of their division which means Charles could find himself playing Ryman Premier football next season. Oh well.

I've taken the bold move meanwhile of terminating the loan contract of Norwich striker Chris Martin. This has instantly reduced the wage expenditure by 0.5k. Martin scored 6 goals in 31 games for us during his time here. Despite a couple of long range screamers though, he ultimately failed to impress on a regular enough basis. How he once scored 4 goals in the Championship I will never know! For the remainder of the season, Morgan will start alongside Pericard and Talbot will be promoted to the bench.

Midfield star Keith Keane, previously earning 2k a month, has agreed to have his wage slashed to 1.7k. The side-effect of this is, I've had to extend his contract to the end of 2011. I don't see a problem with this strategy though. Assuming we do go down to the Blue Square Premier, it will then be impossible for us to operate any higher than League 2 by the end of 2011. Thus, it stands to reason we will need Keith for all of that period.

I've done the same thing with goalkeeper Dean Brill, in this instance reducing his wage from 2.3k to 2.0k. Brill though has been a very good keeper this season and is very much in my plans for the long haul. Players who did not play ball with the wage cut include George Pilkington, Dean Morgan, and Kevin Nicholls. I haven't given up on my renegotiations though.

Ronny Johnson on the other hand will simply be released during the summer when his contract expires. He's still playing very well but he's 39 and his level of performance could potentially wane a lot between now and the end of a second season. He earns 1.4k a week and I could really do with shaving that off the balance sheet and starting afresh. Johnson has forged an effective partnership with Pilkington since January and the team will be sorry to see him leave. I might have a sit down and a chat with him before he goes and find out if he has any interest in coaching.

At one time the wage bill during my tenure was 37k. I've now guaranteed that, new players withstanding, that figure will drop to 24.4k just after July 1st. Obviously there will most likely be new players coming in to replace those who have left, but I'm anticipating being able to pick up some cheaper players on cheaper wages once we're in the Blue Square Premier (yes, I've committed the cardinal sin of assuming we'll go down. I don't have to tell anyone else though).

Midfielders Asa Hall and Rossi Jarvis are both earning 1k a week and completely surplus to requirements. I plan to release them and simply pay out the remainder of their contracts if no bids are forthcoming in the next few days. Getting rid of those two would lower my projected July 1st wage bill to just 22.4k. There's also Marc Edworthy to consider; the veteran is on 3k a week and doing nothing. He's contracted until the end of next season though and might be too expensive to simply release into the wild. We'll see.

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18/03/09, League Match 37

Rotherham United v Luton Town

GK - Dean Brill

DL - Sol Davis

DR - Claude Gnakpa

DC - George Pilkington

DC - Ronny Johnson

MC - Kevin Nicholls

MC - Keith Keane

AML - Robert Eagle

AMR - Paul McVeigh

FC - Dean Morgan

FC - Vincent Pericard

I was able to name an unchanged side for this difficult fixture. Rotherham began the season on -17 but quickly wiped out the deficit to nest themselves comfortably in mid-table; they're 16th now and a long way clear of the relegation zone. When we played them earlier in the season at Kenilworth Road the match ended in a 0-0 draw on a day I was forced to field my most injury-ravaged team of the season. Today we were at full strength, so maybe we could go one better? We lined up with 4.4.2 but The Millers played a tricky 4.1.2.2.1 formation.

I always like to make a tight start away from home and for seven minutes that's exactly what my boys gave me here. What a shame then we conceded in the 8th minute from the first attack of the game - Talk about infuriating. It was a short and neat passing move which proved our undoing. However there still seemed to be no serious danger when Grogan picked up the ball on the left wing. Gnakpa dived in prematurely though and Grogan skipped around him to mount an angled assault on the penalty area. Nicholls came across to cover but took just as much of the man as he did the ball, leading the referee to point to the penalty spot. Haggerty fired a low right footed shot into the bottom right hand corner to give Rotherham the lead. 1-0.

We almost responded with a penalty of our own in the 13th minute but the referee deemed a foul on Morgan to have been just to the right of the penalty area rather than inside it; defender Nicholas was cautioned for his indiscretion. Eagle laid the free kick off to Keane just outside the penalty area. He in turn passed the ball low into Pericard on the edge of the six yard box. The on-loan striker took the ball under control but was tackled just as he prepared to shoot. The tackle looked dodgy to several of our players but once again appeals were waved away.

In the 16th minute Morgan took the ball down thirty yards out but fired over. We continued in the ascendancy however and forced a corner in the 25th minute, which was uncomfortably headed clear via a deflection. We were seeing plenty of the ball; we just weren't creating any good chances. As the half an hour mark came and went, the Millers launched themselves on another marathon passing spree similar to the one which led to the first goal. This time the ball eventually winged its way over to Grogan, now operating on the right. From here he hit a cheeky right foot shot from twenty yards out which flew into Brill's top right hand corner (via the underside of the bar). Two attacks, two goals. 2-0.

Our confidence was shot to pieces after this, and the only team which looked like scoring again up until half time was Rotherham. They didn't create much, having said that. Brogan's angled free kick over the bar in the 42nd minute briefly raised the temperature, but that was that as far as the first half action was concerned. I told the players I wanted to see more of them in the second half. I let them know they hadn't played badly, they just weren't creating enough going forward. I also told them they desperately needed to tighten up on Grogan.

My team doesn't have a great history of responding to my teamtalks, and here was a case example. Rotherham successfully consolidated their lead for the first ten minutes of the second half without being remotely troubled. They even forced a corner in the 52nd minute which Pilkington managed to head to safety. Indeed I was just about to give up on the match completely when we finally got a rub of the green in the 57th minute. Eagle threw the ball into Nicholls in a central position, and the Millers defence suddenly backed off way too far. Nicholls rolled the ball sideways to Ronny Johnson just outside the area, who took on a snappy first time shot with his left foot. The ball took a slight deflection and flew past the keeper for a goal back. 2-1.

Before this development could settle properly in my brain, a scrappy piece of play after the resumption ended with Gnakpa collecting the ball in his own half on the right hand side. There didn't seem too many options available for him so he lofted the ball high and long. I'm not quite sure how, but this resulted in Pericard and a defender chasing the ball side by side with nobody else near them. The Stoke striker shrugged off his man to gain control of the ball with just the keeper to beat. Now a yard or two from the edge of the area, he unleashed a ferocious shot which rocketed past the goalkeeper and into the net. Would you believe this? It was suddenly 2-2.

There was still half an hour to go at this point. I held off from making the first of my substitutions though because we had the momentum. I wanted to see if we could keep this good spell going and take the lead. Big mistake - back came Rotherham. In the 66th minute Yates went on a fine run down the right hand side. He cut in from the byline and charged straight for Brill's goal at a tight angle. There were players steaming into the middle but Yates went for the shot, and hit the side netting. Lucky escape.

With the 70 minute mark having ticked by on the scoreboard, I decided to be unusually bold and make all three substitutions at the same time. Off came Pericard for Talbot, McVeigh for O'Connor, and Eagle for Owusu. The fresh legs didn't stop Rotherham though, who went close again in the 75th minute. This time it was another quick player - Rueben Reid - who terrorised us down the right before cutting into the area. Davis got a firm tackle in to send the ball over the byline, but Reid appealed for the penalty and so did several of his colleagues. The referee waved play on, and the corner came to nothing.

After 83 minutes, Talbot won the ball after a hectic midfield scrap. He lumped a short ball forward and miraculously Morgan managed to beat the offside trap to go straight through on goal with not a defender for miles. This was a great chance to give us the lead! Morgan's touch into the penalty area wasn't good, and the ball drifted slightly to the right. It still left him with a shot on his right foot though and it was still an extremely presentable opportunity! Alas, Morgan panicked and thrashed the ball over the bar and into the stand behind the goal. What a waste.

Despite this, we finished the match on top. Ronny Johnson, now with a taste for goal it seemed, ventured forward again in the 87th minute and hammered a twenty five yard shot over the crossbar. Rotherham had a corner which came to nothing in the 90th minute, but just as the four minutes of injury time came to an end, we finished the match on the attack as Gnakpa pressed the Rotherham penalty area. Who knows - a few more seconds and we might have created something. As it was, the game finished 2-2 and the shot count finished 6-6. The home side won 5-3 on corners. On the whole then, the draw was probably the fair result.

FINAL SCORE

Rotherham United 2 (Haggarty 9pen, Grogan 30)

Luton Town 2 (Johnson 57, Pericard 59)

(Table after 37/46 games. We have 10 wins, 18 draws, 9 defeats)

Notts County (41)

Chesterfield (39)

Chester City (31)

Bournemouth (26)

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

Macclesfield (25)

Luton Town (18)

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

19/03/09 - Headaches and permutations

I had a lot to catch up on with Brian this afternoon down The Hatters Arms. I had stories to tell about Simon, Cassie, Nicky, Erica, Jorkic, and I mostly repeated them over a few friendly games of pool. We don't usually play pool but it doesn't hurt to mix up your drinking habits now and again. Brian wasn't a bad player but he was no match for me; I'd grown up playing this game. It was all me and University friends did back in Lancaster. There used to be a 20p-per-game table in the Student Union bar and we were hardly ever off it. Anyway, Brian had severals sceptical points to make about Cassie.

"You're letting this whole thing drift too much out of your control" he said, potting a yellow.

"I'm not letting anything out of control" I retaliated.

"Maybe not now, but soon you will. You've already told her you like her and vice versa. That can lead to other things, and before you know it your feelings will be too deep to simply throw aside because of Dilic. You'll find yourself in an impossible situation, one which can only lead to you getting hurt. I don't just mean mentally either!"

He missed his next shot but I paused before taking my turn.

"I won't let it go that far. At least, I'm going to try not to let it go that far".

"Gosh, you sound so convinced!" Brian retorted sarcastically. "Whilst we're on the subject of Cassie, her version of events concerning Twin Humps doesn't seem right to me".

"Why not?"

"Well" he began, chalking his cue as I shot and missed. "It just seems odd that she'd so easily let Dilic become her guardian when Dilic was the person whose men shot her dad".

"It was an accident. They hadn't gone in there with the intention of blowing everyone away".

"How could it have been an accident? How could they 'accidentally' shoot everyone when they were the only ones with the guns? How could Cassie's Dad 'accidentally' get shot when he was nowhere near everyone else? I'm not a copper but it doesn't quite add up to me".

The game wasn't finished but I put my cue down on the table and sat down at the nearest table where my beer was. I didn't want to hear this. It sounded to me like he was questioning Cassie's character. In fact he WAS questioning Cassie's character. It was blatant.

"The fact you just conceded the rest of the game over what I said just proves how much you're starting to care about her. You didn't want to hear that theory I just came out with did you?"

I looked him without comment. Brian meanwhile took hold of his own pint and sat down next to me. The Sunday afternoon TV match had already finished. It was quite an empty pub now.

"Look" he continued. "We've drifted away from the point I was going to make. What I was going to say was - even if the shooting was an accident and she believed it was an accident, why does that automatically mean she would forgive Dilic and go live with him? Regardless of whether it was an accident or not, his order to send those men to that pub resulted in the death of her father. Emotionally she should have had great trouble not shifting 100% of the blame onto Dilic. You know what people are like when they suffer a huge emotional trauma. There's a huge tendancy for blame".

"We don't know that" I said. "Who's to say she didn't find out about Dilic's involvement until weeks or months after the event? She might have calmed down by then".

"If that was true and I was Cassie, I'd feel even more angry!"

"Well maybe she hated Dilic for what happened but was forced to pretend otherwise because she had nowhere else to go? Once her dad was dead she would have been all alone in Serbia with absolutely nobody to look after her. The mum left years ago".

"And there would have been no other relatives back in England willing to take Cassie in? You'd have thought there would have been at least one wouldn't you? Failing that, you'd have thought MI6 or MI5 or whichever one it was, would have offered to set her up in a council flat back home or something. She must have been either sixteen or approaching sixteen at the time".

I finished my pint and rubbed my stubble with a stray hand.

"Dilic is obviously very well off though" I continued thoughtfully. "She may have decided that forgiving him in exchange for access to his wealth was a sensible short and long term way to guarantee survival. You can't knock her for looking after herself".

"Possibly" Brian sighed. "One thing's for sure though - Either Gav or Cassie has lied over what truly happened at Twin Humps".

"I don't reckon either of them lied. I think Cassie told the truth and I think Gav told what he believed to be the truth. I reckon it was that strange Serbian who Gav talked to at the bar who did the fabricated version".

"Or maybe the Serbian also told the truth and it was the person who originally told the story to him who altered the story".

"Chinese whispers"

"Exactly".

A calm silence followed as we finished our beers. We weren't on the guest ales today. According to Gav, several people had fallen ill drinking Warlock's Beard over the past few weeks (even Brian had suffered a funny turn during training one day). He'd managed to keep it quiet from both the press and the brewary, but what he had done was withdraw from sale not just the rest of the Warlock's Beard but also the rest of the guest ales too. Thus, for the time being it was commercial beer or nothing, not that I was bothered.

"That pool has put me in the sporting mood" Brian eventually said. "Game of darts?"

"Yeah, okay".

[ScottleeSV]

20/03/09 - A milestone reached

I’d been having a text conversation with Darren the previous night and apparently Oakenbridge had booked today off as holiday. Armed with this knowledge I decided to pop into the communal offices once I got into work and have a coffee with everybody. The door was ajar when I got there.

“How’s it going guys?” I asked, stepping inside

Nobody was in. Not one person. That was strange.

“Hello?”

Not a peep. Indeed I was just about to step back outside when all of a sudden everybody jumped up from behind their desks.

“SURPRISE!!!” came the accompanying cry from five different sets of vocal chords.

They were all here – Brenda, Nicky, Caroline, Alison, and Darren. What’s more, they were all smiling and looking straight at me.

“What’s going on?” I asked, smiling back.

“Well” Caroline began. “Darren kindly informed us the other day that it’s your fiftieth Luton match this Saturday, so we decided to celebrate the occasion”.

“So I haven’t actually had my fiftieth game yet?”

“No, but as far as we know, Oakenbridge won’t be taking any holiday days next week. We had to kind of take the best day that was available to us. We could have waited until after your fiftieth match but then we probably would have had to all squeeze into your office, and how would we have explained to Oakenbridge where we were going anyway? Besides, people celebrate their birthday before the actual day all the time. Why can’t we do it with this?”

“Fair enough” I said, resting my bum on the front of my old desk. “This will all look a bit silly if I get sacked before Saturday though”.

“Oh I’m sure you’ll make it until at least Saturday” Brenda chuckled. “We’ve even got a cake for you, and just wait until you see this. Nicky, take it away”.

Nicky reached down behind her desk and lifted up onto it a huge wedding cake with about five tiers worth of icy white goodness. On the top two layers going downwards were plastic lettering using the words and numbers to make the message ‘To James – Happy 50th match’.

“A wedding cake?”

“One of Sally’s friends decided at the last minute she didn’t want to get married” Nicky explained. “The long and short of it is, the cake ended up at Sally’s and I gave her a tenner for it”.

“Lovely” I said.

For the next two or three minutes we all gathered some chairs up and made a circle in the centre of the offices. We put the wedding cake on the desk closest to where we were sat and Nicky began to hand out slices on paper napkins. Brenda and Alison meanwhile made some coffee and tea and began handing that out. Alcohol would have been nice but we were on the job I suppose.

“Darren, are you sure I’ve been in charge for fifty matches? We’ve only played thirty eight in the league and I don’t remember being in the cups all that long”.

“I included the friendly matches” he responded, taking a bite of cake the amount of which made Nicky pull a face.

“And how did you know I was going to come in here today?”

“Why do you think Darren deliberately told you last night about Oakenbridge’s holiday?” Alison asked. “We figured you’d stop by to say hello if you knew she wasn’t here”.

“Well, I’m touched. I really am. The cake is lovely by the way. I’ll tell you what though, it feels weird celebrating my fiftieth game when I’ve probably only won about ten of them”.

“Well when you reach fifty wins, maybe we’ll celebrate that too” Nicky retorted.

“I think...you...should do a speech” Caroline declared, struggling to speak between mouthfuls.

I told them I didn’t want to but they complained and bitched about my decision until I relented. It was hard to be a scrooge about such a small thing when they’d gone to all this trouble for me.

“Okay then” I said, standing up with my coffee. “I’d just like to say thanks very much to all of you for doing this for me. It’s really sweet and I really appreciate it. You’re a fine bunch of people and workers, and I really miss being able to sit in here with you day after day. It’s not been plain sailing for me this season but you guys have often kept my chin up when under different circumstances I might have folded and let the pressure get to me a lot more than it has done. You’re all terrific and many thanks once again”.

Everybody cheered and clapped as I sat down. It was a nice moment, if just a shade on the embarrassing side. I mean Jesus, what would they be like if I actually won a trophy with this club? Anyway, I stayed a good half an hour or so (during which I had three slices of cake) and then made my excuses to leaves.

“Sorry guys - I’ve got a busy afternoon ahead. There’s a player coming in who I have to inform he no longer has a future here”

“Ooooh, you big meany!” Nicky said.

“Don’t worry, it’s not Keith. Right then everyone, have a good day. Many thanks again. See ya”.

With that I left to a chorus of goodbyes. What a lovely bunch they are. I’ve got this horrible feeling though I’m not going to be around for the one hundred game cake.

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21/03/09, League Match 38

Luton Town v Rochdale

GK – Dean Brill

DL – Sol Davis

DR – Claude Gnakpa

DC – George Pilkington

DC – Ronny Johnson

MC – Kevin Nicholls

MC – Keith Keane

AMR – Paul McVeigh

AML – Robert Eagle

FC – Dean Morgan

FC – Vincent Pericard

For the second consecutive match we were unchanged. We came into this one on the back of a five match unbeaten run and a fifteen game unbeaten home streak. Rochdale are playoff contenders but were missing five players through injury and suspension. We had been completely second best at Spotland earlier in the season and were very fortunate to grab a 1-1 draw on that occasion. That was the game Brinsley Sheridan played and scored on his debut before then breaking his leg in training. The big difficulty I foresaw for today was Rochdale’s 4.5.1 formation. We’ve struggled against that in the past.

We kicked off but lost the ball almost straight away, Nicholls fouling Rochdale’s lone striker Dagnell on the halfway line. From the resulting passage of play, holding midfielder Keltie blasted a thirty yard shot over the crossbar with still less than a minute on the clock. We struggled to get into the game after this. The away team’s packed midfield was making it impossible for us to play our natural game. The fact we have a small pitch just made it even harder. We kept getting caught on the break too. In the 19th minute Rochdale went on the counter attack and eventually had a penalty appeal waved away. Later in the same attack, the ball fell to Dagnell on the edge of a crowded penalty area and he hit a weak shot straight through to Brill.

With 22 minutes gone we suffered an injury blow, Nicholls picking up a knock and needing to be substituted. I brought Owusu on in his place and on we went. The switch-a-round didn’t change our fortunes though, and the visitors remained on top. In the 25th minute, Dagnell ran at my defence and let fly a thirty five yard screamer. The ball dipped and swerved and was too good for Brill. It didn’t go in though; it hit the corner of post and bar and landed back down in the penalty area where Gnakpa was able to get back and clear it.

Our luck finally ran out in the 30th minute though. After a slow passing build-up, winger Rundle skipped past Gnakpa on the left hand side. His cross was met by the head of Carrington at the near post and his sharp header easily found its way into the goal past a static Brill. 1-0. It did not escape my attention that this was the second game in a row we’ve conceded a goal because Gnakpa has dived in too readily by the touchline. I’m going to have to stop him closing people down in future matches.

I was getting angry and frustrated by this point but we did hit back in the 39th minute. Eagle fired a hard, low, angled cross into the penalty area and it was controlled perfectly by Pericard just five yards from goal at a slight angle. With the goal at his mercy, he shot across the goal and wide of the post. At least we’d mustered an attack though. Final word of the half fittingly went to Rochdale. Another incisive passing move ended with the ball being pulled back from the byline to Evans, whose low shot was tame and straight at Brill.

My halftime team-talk was negative and ratty; I expected better in the second half and they knew it. For the first time in a while I actually got something constituting a reaction. The impressive Eagle crossed from the left and again it was Pericard in the six yard box getting there before anybody else. He volleyed it first time towards the far corner. The shot was more accurate this time but slower, and the keeper was able to scramble across the line and make the save. Straight from the throw out, Rochdale counter-attacked and Johnson slipped up thirty yards from goal. Evans was able to sneak through to the right of central but his shot was high and wide. It was only a half chance.

I took the risk of making my second and third substitutions as early as the hour mark. On came Talbot for the misfiring Pericard, and O’Connor for McVeigh. It didn’t reap any instead rewards though. In the 65th minute Rochdale’s Higginbottom thrashed a shot over the bar from range and we moved into the game’s final quarter.

With the clock ticking onto 75 minutes, Keane, Davis, and Eagle passed the ball around down the Rochdale left. Eagle eventually got the ball and again crossed it in. This time it was Drew Talbot rushing in at the back post. The goalkeeper was caught completely square and Talbot managed to prod home under pressure from a defender. Goal! 1-1. How ironic Talbot should score only his second goal of the season in the same week I set the seal on his transfer to another club!

We’d now had three attacks of note in this match and all of them created from the boot of Eagle. What a shame he’s only here on-loan. The final ten minutes promised much in the way of entertainment but delivered very little. The visitors offered just one more off-target long ranger where as we offered nothing at all. A draw doesn’t do us much good but it does extend our unbeaten run to six matches. It also extends our unbeaten home record to sixteen matches.

FINAL SCORE (Att - 5925)

Luton Town 1 (Talbot 74)

Rochdale 1 (Carrington 30)

(Table after 38/46 games. We have 10 wins, 19 draws, 9 defeats)

Notts County (42)

Chesterfield (42)

Chester City (32)

Bournemouth (29)

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

Macclesfield (26)

Luton Town (19)

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21/03/09 - Anything but ecstatic

Just after I’d finished giving out my post-match interview to The Football League Show, Brian took me aside and informed me there was going to be an emergency press conference taking place within the next five minutes.

“Some lad was rushed to hospital after the match” my assistant explained. “It’s believed he took ecstasy inside the ground whilst the game was still in progress”.

“Jeez” I said softly. “Okay, let’s go”.

Three minutes later I was inside the press room feeling the flash of the cameras.

“James” said Andy Branston, almost jumping out of his seat. “What’s the club’s statement on the teenager who’s been rushed to hospital?”

“I’m being completely honest when I say this but I didn’t hear anything about this incident until just a couple of minutes ago. I probably know equal or less on the subject than anybody in this room”.

“The rumourmill is circulating that somebody is selling ectasy inside the stadium. What do you make of this rumour?”

“Again, I can’t comment on that. I’m not privy to all the facts. In fact I’m not privy to any of the facts at this time”.

Andy sat down, remarkably without shaking his head. Next up was Bill Tulip from The Bedfordshire Bulletin – he was sat as always on the back row in the far right corner.

“James, you were contacted earlier in the season by the police in connection with the possibility of ecstasy being sold inside Kenilworth Road. Was this not the case?”

I delayed my answer here, and the room began to whisper and murmour. How could Bill have known about my meeting with the police in Macclesfield? Brian meanwhile glanced at me as if to say ‘is this really true?’

“It is true the police once approached me to ask if I knew anything about ecstasy being sold at Luton matches. I replied in the negative and off they went. I didn’t for one second think it was true, and neither did I think it was my place to make further enquiries off my own back”.

“Did you not let anyone at the club know about your meeting with the police?”

“No. The police were already conducting an investigation at that time. I didn’t see any need. I figured they would either take care of the situation themselves or come back to me or someone else at the club requesting further help. They did not do the latter, to my knowledge”.

Bill sat down and I pointed to Victoria Thornton of The Mirror.

“James, do you think this occurrence could have a negative effect on the club’s image?”

“No, I think the public are sensible enough to know that Kenilworth Road isn’t a dangerous place just because one idiot might be running around with a bag of ecstasy. And anyway, once this idiot is caught, there won’t be an issue”.

That was it from Victoria already. I pointed instead to Brad Scowcroft of The Supporters Trust.

“James, not to be disrespectful to the young lad in hospital, but there was a football match today. What did you make of the performance and the result?”

“Obviously the result was poor and doesn’t help us at all. The performance was disappointing. Apart from Robert Eagle, who I thought had his best game yet in our colours, everybody else was below par. Credit to Rochdale though; they clearly did their homework on the things we do well at home and they countermanded that very effectively. I thought we were lucky to get a point, truth be told”.

Cue the sound of pens doing some scribbling. Brad sat down and I presumed he was done. Maybe because of the hospitalization thing but I thought I was getting an easier ride than usual from everyone in the room today. It just goes to show how a kid getting hurt (especially in connection with a sensitive issue like ecstasy) can put the football side of things into perspective.

“How do you think this leaves Luton positioned for the run-in?” Radio 5’s Jonathan Pantsil asked once he’d stood up and been pointed at.

“Well, we’re ten points behind Bournemouth with a game in hand. That game in hand incidentally, as most of you probably know, is next up against Gillingham. Suffice to say it is imperative we win that one and get the gap back to just seven points with seven games left”.

“You say the win is imperative. Does that mean you think it will be curtains for you if you don’t beat Gillingham?”

“It won’t completely be curtains but if Gillingham beat us our job will become a hell of a lot harder”.

Victoria Thornton was back on her feet next.

“James, going back to the ecstasy incident, do you have a special word tonight for the parents of the teenager in hospital?”

“Yes. If you’re listening, I hope your lad pulls through from the very bottom of not only my heart, but all the hearts involved with this football club. I also hope the person responsible is caught very soon, and I give you my assurance that we here at Luton will go out of our way to assist the police with any investigation”.

The press conference wrapped itself up after that. I wondered if Brad and Jonathan’s questions about the Rochdale match would mean there wouldn’t be a separate press conference for the match this week. That though was likely to be a question for either tomorrow or Monday. In the meantime, I had an appointment with a nice cold beer down the Hatters Arms

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23/03/09 - Two little angels

I managed the get the address of Tommy Wiggins’ mother from Caroline. God knows how she got it but she did. The plan was to go around to the house and try and find out anything which might link Tommy to Kenilworth Road. I’d only told Caroline about my intentions because I didn’t want loads of people telling me I was being disrespectful by reminding a mother of her pain. It had been a long time since Tommy had died though. Surely enough time had passed?

Her dogs didn’t seem to think so. The moment I unlatched the front gate I heard lots of growling and snarling coming from somewhere towards the back of the house. I paused for a moment and listened. Then I heard a distant female voice, a musky, smoky, old kind of voice, and it was talking to the dogs.

“Growler! Snapper! See him off!”

Almost before I could react, two big fat rottweilers appeared from somewhere in the vicinity of the back garden. They were tearing down the side of the house and heading straight for me (probably with intent to maim). Instinctively I jumped back over the front garden wall and ran across the street. The two dogs though only followed as far as the front gate, remaining there after my evacuation to continue their growling and general doggie dissatisfaction. Moments later the front door opened and a middle aged woman wearing hair curlers appeared.

“What do you want?”

“I’m from the Luton football club” I told her with difficulty over the barking. “I just wanted to talk to you about your son. I know it’s been a long time now, but there’s a good chance we might be giving him an honorary mention in our next programme release”.

The woman looked at me suspiciously a moment but then switched her attention to the dogs.

“Growler! Snapper! Get back in here!”

“Does this mean I can come in?” I called across the road.

“Just for a few minutes” the woman replied.

“Will I be safe?”

“So long as you leave when I tell you, yes. Growler and Snapper are my little angels. They only attack when they’re told to”.

Not entirely convinced by this assurance, I crossed back over the road and followed the woman into the house. I could see straight away it was a very rundown place. In fact the whole estate looked rundown to me. The woman’s house though was particularly mucky. The wallpaper was cracked and ripped, there was a smoky smell all over the place, and I saw one or two stains on the greying carpet I suspected were of Growler and Ripper’s doing.

On the subject of the two 'little angels', they sat staring at me once I was seated in the living room. They perched themselves on their hind-legs and watched me like two black guardian sphinxes in ancient Egypt. With security like this, I suspected Tommy Wiggins’ mother hadn’t bothered to install a burglar alarm.

“I’m James” I said, observing my host plonk herself in the armchair across the room.

“Mavis” she replied, lighting a cigarette. “Now then, what’s this about my son?”

“Well, like I said, we’re thinking of running a programme piece on him as a tribute. Better late than never. So, what can you tell me about Tommy? I’m particularly interested in how he felt about Luton and also the details concerning his death. I know this must still be painful so if that’s the case I apologise in advance”.

“Tommy was football-mad” Mavis began, puffing way like there was no tomorrow. “We couldn’t afford to send him to many Luton games – this was back when his father was still around – but he still loved the club and he always wanted to play for them. He was a good player too. He played for loads of local teams, scored loads of goals, and was a real prospect apparently”.

“Sorry to ask, but how did he die?”

“He used to play football every evening down Addington Way. He was so good though that some older lads wanted him to play with them. He did for a while and everything was fine. From what the police told me though, apparently one or two of the lads eventually took exception to always being run rings around by a younger boy. Tommy was a striker and he always scored loads of goals. One of the lads who didn’t like him called him a goal-hanger”.

“A goal-hanger?” I asked, my question for some reason inducing Growler to growl.

“Yeah, he was particularly good at scoring goals from really close to the goal. Apparently he had the skill to always be in the right place at the right time to score. It annoyed those bigger lads I was talking about though and they labelled Tommy a goal-hanger. I believe it refers to when a player hangs around close to....”.

“Yeah I know what a goal hanger is”.

“Well anyway, one night Tommy got stabbed just after they’d all finished a game. The lad who did it dragged his body over to where the goal was and left Tommy to bleed out right there in front of the goal. He told Tommy he would then be able to goal-hang permanently".

“Did he get caught?”

“Yes, thank the lord. He’s doing twenty years in prison now”.

“Do you think Tommy was good enough to eventually play for Luton?”

“I imagine so. He scored loads of goals for all the teams he played for. It was certainly his dream to play for Luton anyway”.

“Okay Mrs Wiggins; that will do. Thanks a lot”.

Mavis got hold of the dog collars and I was allowed to walk out towards the door. I deflected the inevitable question about when the programme with Tommy’s tribute would be coming out, and then said my goodbyes. Once I was back in my car I called Caroline straight away.

“Caroline, the ghost is definitely Tommy Wiggins. He was a goal-hanger according to his mum. Where did Nicky and Fred see the ghost? Hanging out by the goal! What’s more, he was a great young player apparently. He was likely to go on and potentially play for Luton. That’s why he haunts the ground! He feels he should be in that six yard box representing Luton".

“I’ve no idea what you mean by goal hanging. You’re forgetting one thing though. I realised it earlier just after I'd been on the phone giving you that address”.

“What is it?”

“Fred saw his ghost back in the 1960’s, so how could that have been Tommy Wiggins?”

I put the phone down on the passenger seat and drooped my head forward onto the wheel.

‘Son of a flaming bitch’

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[ScottleeSV]

23/03/09 - Fortitude

“Evening Gav” I said, walking up the to bar. “What's this? New guest ales?”

“Yes indeedy” smiled the big lumbering barman. “We’ve got two new ones, and I promise these ones aren’t going to make you ill! You’ve got a choice of ‘Leeches’ elbow’, or ‘Heidi’s fortitude’.

“They sound more like racehorces than beers” I stated, glancing towards my usual corner and spotting Brian there waiting for me. “I didn’t know Leeches had elbows, by the way”.

“That’s probably why the makers thought it was a clever name”.

“What does ‘fortitude’ mean?”

“I don’t know. Hang on”.

Gav went into the back and came back with a dictionary. After much faffing around with the pages, he reached the one he needed and began to read out the definition.

‘mental and emotional strength in facing difficulty, adversity, danger, or temptation courageously: Never once did her fortitude waver during that long illness’

“It means she’s very noble then” I said. “I’ll have a pint of that. Heidi sounds more pleasant than the leech”.

“Coming right up”.

“What did Brian go for?” I asked, cocking my head towards my assistant manager.

“He went for Leeches’ Elbow. He said women are leeches anyway so it wouldn’t make any difference which one he picked”.

“Lovely”.

A minute later Brian and I were sat in our favourite corner ready to once again put the world to rights. Incidentally I must stop using the phrase ‘Brian and I’. No matter what your English teacher tells you, that’s a phrase which should be used only for your lover. I’m inposing a blanket ban on ‘Brian and I’ from this moment in the diary going forward.

“I’ve got another newspaper article to show you” Brian said, pointing to a copy of The Mirror. “In fact, tell you the truth I could have picked any paper this morning. The story’s getting coverage everywhere”.

“The ecstasy thing?”

“Yep”.

“Listen” I said, sipping some Heidi and decided she tasted none too shabby. “Before you get onto that, I just wanted to tell you that I’ve been doing a bit of thinking about Cassie. In fact, I’ve been doing quite a bit of thinking about women in general. Beginning with Cassie, I’ve decided I’m going to make an extra strong effort to resist any flirting she does from now on. She hasn’t exactly ‘flirted’ with me so far, but she could do; the art of doing so is probably in her locker somewhere. If it ever rears its beautiful head, I’m going to resist it. I’m determined”.

“I’m glad to hear it” said Brian. “Remember, if Dilic ever decided he wanted to hurt you without actually hurting you directly, he could just as easily hurt one of your closest friends instead. That’s me. I’ve seen it in the movies. I’ve got a family, James. I really wouldn't mess with this Cassie girl. Anyway, what’s this other part, the bit about women in general?”

“Well, it might sound out of the blue but I’ve decided to lift my self-imposed ban on having women in my life”.

Brian almost choked on his Leeches’ Elbow. Several droplets of the stuff flew all over the table.

“Since when, and why?”

“Well, it’s partly because of how inevitable the relegation is. I’ve said throughout this season that this is my big chance to achieve something special in life, and that I don’t want women getting in the way of that. Ultimately though I’ve failed anyway – we’re going down. I’ve come to the realisation that maybe a successful professional life begins at home. Maybe I need someone else in life to inspire me once I get to work? Maybe I just need a life? I think I’ve been putting all my eggs in the one basket this season and now I feel shattered, rundown”.

“I’m glad you’ve made that choice. Don’t shoot for me intruding but I’ve always got the impresson there’s been more going on with you than the induction of a succeed-at-any-sacrifice policy. I can’t help wondering if you’ve also had bad experiences with women before coming down here, or maybe even just one woman”.

I could feel his inquisitive sideways glare on me as he said this. I didn’t respond to it though, not because I thought he was overstepping the mark but simply because I wasn’t in the mood. You see, I have to be in the right mood to talk about Charlotte Thomas. Halfway through a first pint though is not that time.

“Let’s see the newspaper thing now” I said

“Okay, sure thing”.

Brian passed me the copy of the The Mirror and I read Victoria’s article. There wasn’t anything eye-opening in the text. It was just a basic reporting of the known facts (which didn’t even include the victim’s name at this stage). At four paragraphs long it wasn’t even a long article. I suppose the fact the boy was still alive, albeit in critical condition, had partially saved our bacon in terms of negative media exposure. According to Victoria though this was the fourth known instance of somebody falling ill because of ecstasy taken at a Luton Town match.

“Apparently Andy Branston’s article in The Hertfordshire Herald is much more juicy. They were out of copies at the Newsagents I passed on the way here though”.

“Why? What does he say?”

“Apparently he calls for the F.A to take action against Luton. He says he we should have more points docked and be forced to play matches behind closed doors. He thinks your admittence at being in the know about this problem some months ago constitutes a serious failure to act”.

“What the hell could I have done?”

“Nothing. Just ignore him. I found out the other day Branston is a Watford fan, just like Dave. Before you call for his head to be chopped off though, may I remind you that Watford is in Hertfordshire where as we are not”.

I reached the halfway point of my Heidi’s Fortitude as I chewed this over. I decided that for one day only it might be a wise thing to buy up all the newsapers later on and take a butchers over what was what. It couldn’t hurt.

“I think I’ve just decided what I want my autobiography to be called” I said, changing the subject again.

“Go on”.

“Martin’s Fortitude – A tale of courage”.

“I know what Dave’s would be called” Brian chuckled. “Leeches’ Elbow – sucking from within”.

We both had a good laugh about this and decided to stay for another pint.

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24/03/09 - Internal affairs

I went to see Dave in his office this afternoon with an unusual request.

“Dave, do you remember that time I asked you if you’d heard anything about there being a ghost at Kenilworth Road?”

“I do” he replied, smiling in a bored kind of way.

I then told Dave everything which had happened since, including mine and Alison’s late night trips to the ground and also my meeting with Mrs Wiggins. Dave looked utterly nonplussed throughout the story’s many twists and turns. I suppose to some people the whole thing would sound a bit ridiculous.

“So what is it you want?” he asked, seemingly deciding not to bother admonishing me for wasting so much of the club’s time on this.

“Well, despite the fact Fred’s ghost obviously can’t have been Tommy Wiggins, I still strongly believe that Wiggins is the one Nicky and Chantelle saw. It’s the whole goal-hanging thing, it just fits perfectly. Anyway, I thought it would be nice if we could rename part of the ground in honour of Tommy. I think this might help him rest. Now before you shoot me down, I’m not talking about changing the name of the stadium, or even any of the stands. I’m realistic here; I just thought we might change the name of something innocuous, like the hotdog stand or something”.

“You want to change the name of the hotdog stand to ‘The Tommy Wiggins Hotdog Stand?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Sorry” Dave replied, reaching for his cigar box. “Can’t do it. The shareholders would make mincemeat of me. You’ve also got the fan reaction to consider. They’d see that we’d changed the name and then they’d research the origin of how said name change came about. Then they’d also find out whose idea it was, and as soon as they did find out, they’d think you’re a kook. Part of my job, and Glynn’s, is to protect your reputation. Just because you might be a ghost-chasing kook in reality, doesn’t mean we want the public to know that”.

“Thanks for the compliment, Dave”.

“You’re welcome” he replied, lighting his cigar and taking a big puff. “And before you ask, no we can’t change the name any other part of the ground either, even the corner flags”.

“Well, I guess that wraps it up then” I said, standing up to leave.

“Wait” Dave said.

I sat back down again, waving some smoke away from my face as I did so.

“What is it?”

“I had a call from the local police station this morning. They’re sending a couple of coppers around at some point during the course of the next week. They want to ask everybody in the building if they know anything about the ecstasy peddler. I know you’re going to tell me that none of your little office buddies know anything about it, and I’m sure that’s true, but the police are just following procedure with this one. As such, expect a visit yourself. They’re not going to leave you out”.

“Okay, that’s fine by me” I replied.

“Whilst they’re here” Dave continued. “I’ve decided I’m going to ask them to take a look at my safe and see if they can lift any fingerprints. I know it’s been a while since it happened but I can’t get it out of my mind. Somebody had a good fiddle with my safe and I’m still curious to know who it was”.

“I doubt any fingerprints will still be on it after all this time” I said.

“Oh they will. I saw this episode of ‘CSI : New York’ the other night. Apparently fingerprints can stay on an object for years sometimes”.

As I digested this information, my eyes caught Dave’s glare and I could have sworn he was watching my body language carefully, as if hoping (or simply wondering) if I might give myself away somehow. I don’t know why or how he had come to the conclusion, but he clearly seemed to think I was high on the list of suspects who may have messed around under his desk.

He was bluffing though with this whole police threat, I was sure of it. The last time I’d been in this office he’d mentioned shoe marks in the carpet as being the reason for his suspicion, not fingerprints. Also, why would he invite the police to dust for prints on a safe containing what was probably an illegal firearm? It would be too risky for him. No, Dave was only telling me he was thinking of going to the police to guage my reaction to the news. He wasn’t going to get a reaction from me though.

“Well, I hope you’re right. I hope they catch whoever it was who tried to break in. If it turns out to be an employee, let’s get him or her sacked on the spot”.

“Let’s hope” Dave said.

“Did you hear about Andy Branston?” I asked, deciding to turn the tables.

“Who?”

“He’s a sports journalist who works for The Hertfordshire Herald”.

“Oh yes, I’ve vaguely heard of him”.

“Well apparently I’ve just found out he’s secretly a Watford supporter. Can you believe that?”

Dave put his cigar in the ashtray and removed his glasses. Then he began to slowly clean them. His eyes were now a long way from mine.

“I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised" he said in mid-wipe. "The Herald is based in Watford, so I hear. I don’t even understand why they bother covering our matches way up here”.

“Well that’s not the point, Dave. The point is, this is a man who is supposed to be writing neutrally about Luton Town. Yet, he’s a Watford fan, and Watford are one of our biggest rivals. How could he possibly cover our games in any fair and objective way?”

“I suppose the Herald will assume that because of the gap in leagues between Watford and Luton right now, Andy Branston would have no reason to write badly of Luton”.

“That’s fine in theory” I said, going in for the kill. “But in reality, I’m sure Andy finds it very difficult indeed. In reality, I bet his natural born hatred for his team’s local rival burns deeply in his soul. In reality, I bet he knows he’s a fraud, an imposter, a man who doesn’t belong in our press room. What do you think, Dave?”

Dave put his glasses back on and now he did look deeply into my eyes. We held gazes for about four seconds and then he turned away and rose to his feet.

“You’ll have to excuse me. I have a meeting very shortly and I need to prepare. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you with the Wiggins thing”.

“Don’t worry about it, Dave” I said, getting up to leave for a second time. “Don’t worry about it”.

‘You’ll keep you slimy son of a gun’

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25/03/09, League Match 39

Luton Town v Gillingham

GK – Dean Brill

DL – Sol Davis

DR – Claude Gnakpa

DC – George Pilkington

DC – Ronny Johnson

DMC – Kevin Nicholls

AMC – Gareth O’Connor

ML – Richard Owusu

AMR – Paul McVeigh

FC – Dean Morgan

FC – Vincent Pericard

You’ll note a distinctly lopsided look to that starting eleven. Right or wrong, I left two of our best players out (Eagle and Keane) because they were under 90% fit. We’ve had a gruelling schedule over the past month or so, often being asked to play two games a week. For some people that’s starting to catch up a little. Now there’s two schools of thought here; you can either play all your best players regardless of fitness and simply take it one game at a time, or you can take a gamble with the current match in the knowledge that you’re safeguarding the welfare of your crown jewels for future matches. I went with the former philosophy, even at the risk of losing our long unbeaten home run.

In then came Owusu for Eagle and O’Connor for Keane. I had no worries about Owusu coming in because he’s a decent little player. The only problem with him is, he’s considerably more defensive than my usual player in that spot. Eagle is a penetrator, Owusu a consolidator. At home I generally prefer to try and penetrate. Anyway, I still had Eagle on the bench, the hope being to bring him on if we needed him in the second half. I also had Keane on the bench. O’Connor is not strong enough to play centre midfield in a 4.4.2 at this level. My sole hope was that the rest of the team could either keep us in the game or better until the second half whereby I would then be able to take him off.

Playing against a Gillingham side which had defeated us 1-0 at The Priestfield Stadium earlier in the season, we actually got off to a good start. With three minutes gone Pericard chased an angled long ball. If he’d taken it under control first time he would have gone clean through. As it was, the ball bounced annoyingly past him and he had to go and retrieve it at the outer left corner of the penalty area. The rest of the defence caught up with play by the time he was able to look up and decide what to do next. He had still had a half chance on his hands but smacked it over the bar.

The man who scored the late winner against us in the reverse fixture was Dennis Oli. He was again playing against us today and it was he who launched Gillingham’s first attack after 5 minutes, tearing down the left and crossing the ball long before Gnakpa could track him back. The cross landed on the head of McCammon and his header required a smart tip over from Brill. Oli was against the brains behind the visitors’ next attack, his raw pace sending him clean through on goal after a low through ball straight down the middle. The striker’s hard low shot however was saved by Brill, and nobody was on hand to pounce on the rebound.

A slightly boring spell ensued before Lewis fired over for the Gills after 22 minutes from long range. Not long after that, a long ball into the away team’s half was attacking by Pericard and the defender evidently in charge of marking him. Pericard won the header, flicking the ball on in the direction of the Gillingham penalty area. Bizarrely, the keeper and defender seemed in two minds as to whose responsibility it was to deal with it. Pericard spotted this mix-up in communication and raced onto the ball, effectively getting onto the end of his own through ball! He had clear room to fire on the keeper now but his hard shot was beaten away by the keeper. In my striker’s defence, it was from an angle.

More long range shots were the order of the day after this. First Gillingham’s McCammon practically chipped one just wide from about forty yards out with Brill scrambling to get there. Then Nicholls forced the opposition keeper to tip his rasping drive over the bar after a pass from Gnakpa. The corner came to nothing. In the 37th minute, some intricate passing in Gillingham’s final third resulted in Pericard nicking the ball through to Morgan beyond the defence and onside. Morgan though, just like his strike partner before him, found the keeper in pristine form, pushing a well struck shot around the post.

After 41 minutes a long ball from Brill caught the Gillingham defence napping, and one big bounce later, Pericard had used his chest to control it was surging through on goal. Enter defender Richards, who brought the Frenchman down from behind to concede a stonewall penalty. We were so happy to get the penalty we almost forgot about the professional foul element of the equation. So did the referee it seemed, who booked Richards instead of sending him off. Never the less, Nicholls’ low shot in the bottom left hand corner was ample consolation. Goal! 1-0.

It was great to get the lead but Gillingham almost got back on level terms straight away. A corner was floated in and King smacked a shot viciously against O’Connor on the near post. The ball hit my midfielder’s shoulder and went out for another corner before he’d even realised it has hit him. The next corner came to nothing but the visitors still found time for one more attack, McCammon and Weston working well over on the far right hand side and eventually laying the ball back for midfielder Lewis. He smacked it over the bar and the referee finally blew for half time.

I made just one substitution at half time, bringing Keane on for O’Connor. I decided to hold the fresh legs of Eagle back just a little while longer. At the start of the second half we had a good chance to add to our lead. Keane made an instant impact by threading a lovely pass through to Owusu on the Gillingham penalty spot. Because the ball was on his right foot though, he elected to tee the ball up for Nicholls instead, who was standing two yards to his right. The problem is, Nicholls collected the ball on HIS wrong foot too, and the shot was spooned over the bar.

A couple of minutes later, Miller skipped past Nichols in the centre circle and charged into our half. He passed it right to Lewis but he flashed his shot a yard wide. It was another warning shot though, a reminder of what our opponents were capable of. In the 49th minute, a free kick in Gillingham’s half was hit long to Weston out on the right. The right midfielder slipped into the penalty area like the proverbial weasel. Sol Davis brought him down with a rash challenge and the linesman immediately put his flag up for a penalty. Clohessy converted in the same corner Nicholls had previously chosen to tie up the game. 1-1.

I panicked slightly at this point, finally bringing Eagle on for Owusu. I needed a goal now and Eagle has become our star creator in recent weeks. In the 58th minute though the ball ended up on the opposite wing entirely, and at the feet of McVeigh. I thought he was fouled at this point but the referee waved play on, and Gillingham went on the counter-attack. The ball was eventually passed through to Miller who had a clear run on goal at the edge of the area. Nicholls lunged in and took the ball away from him. Or had he? Gillingham appealed for yet another penalty. The referee though decided that two penalties in one game was already more than enough, and waved play on.

From the resulting throw we charged up the pitch and won a corner. This was played back to Ronny Johnson on the edge of the penalty area. He got the ball tangled under his feet a little bit here, but eventually managed to poke a delightful little pass through to Eagle. My substitute took the ball in his stride from a tight angle and fired a shot at the keeper, who beat the ball away to safety.

A huge lull in the proceedings occurred after this, as both teams made substitutions seemingly every two or three minutes for a full ten minute spell. On my side I took McVeigh off for Beavon, switching things around so that Beavon went to centre back, Pilkington to right back, and Gnakpa onto the right wing. This might sound a complicated manoeuvre but I had to take McVeigh off because he was absolutely knackered, and I had no natural replacement. At least with the multi-reshuffle I was able to place players into positions they are accomplished if not necessarily natural.

Big incident in the 76nd minute. Sol Davis fired a long ball up the touchline and Pericard took it under control. Richards pulled him back though and was cautioned for a second time in the match. As the Luton fans celebrated and waved him off the pitch, I noticed that Pericard was waving in my direction and signalling that he couldn’t continue. Because I’d already used up all three substitutes, the rest of the match was going to played out as a ten versus ten.

Initially we adapted better to it than they did. We won a free kick on the corner angle of penalty area with 9 minutes left, Keane racing in and curling it just wide of the far posts. As Keith Keane free kicks go though, that was actually one of the betters one. In the 85th minute, and I was getting desperate for a winner now, Eagle played a clever one-two with Keane just outside the area. My left winger could have gone through on the keeper from this position but the ball took a bobble just as he was re-collecting it. He still got a shot in but it was off balance, and ultimately high and wide.

With the 89th minute seconds away, we again had possession of the football. Davis played a square ball infield to Nicholls. The Hatters veteran was well tackled though and Gillingham went on the attack for the first time in ages. Howard and McCammon interchanged passes before a pass to Pugh was just too short for him. A kind of scrum followed where two defenders and Pugh battled furiously for the ball on the same spot. I don’t quite know how but Pugh came away with the ball, and suddenly he was through on goal. He fired straight and true and the ball beat Brill all ends up for a dramatic late winner. It was timed as being inside the 89th minute. Nothing of note happened in injury time. Our long unbeaten home record had come to an end.

FINAL SCORE (Att – 7251)

Luton Town 1 (Nicholls 43pen)

Gillingham 2 (Clohessy 50pen, Johnson s/o 76, Pugh 89)

(League table after 39/46 games. We have 10 wins, 19 draws, 10 defeats)

Notts County (42)

Chesterfield (42)

Chester City (32)

Bournemouth (29)

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

Macclesfield (26)

Luton Town (19)

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26/03/09 - Police costs

“We don’t have any transfer money to buy Eagle right now” I told the Norwich manager over the phone. “And it’s highly unlikely we’ll have any in the summer either”.

“You’ll have to wait and see if we release him from his contract then. Sorry there isn’t more I can do”

Glenn Roeder is a man under pressure. His Norwich side are just two points above the relegation zone in The Championship (ironically just pipping Watford at the moment) and have a ridiculous amount of injuries. Glenn had been kind enough at the start of the call to read me the names of all his injured players. I counted ten of them. For a moment I thought he was even going to request I send Eagle back to him!

“Not to worry about Eagle. Is Chris Martin getting any games for you now you’ve got all those injuries?”

“Nope” Glenn chuckled. “He still can’t get a game. He doesn’t have a future here, and judging by your report of him I’d hazard a guess he doesn’t have a future anywhere else in the football league either”.

Suddenly I heard on the knock on my office door.

“There’s someone knocking on my door, Glenn. I think we’re just about done here. Let me know when you make a decision on Eagle’s future”.

“Will do. Bye for now”.

“Come in!” I said to the person outside the door, at the same I put the phone down

In walked not one, but two people. They were a man and a woman and they were both wearing police uniforms.

“Good afternoon, Mr Martin” said the man. “You may remember us. I’m Inspector Ridgway and this is Seargent Myers”.

“Do sit down” I replied. “There’s another chair over there in the corner if you want to grab it”.

A minute later we were all sat comfortably and Ridgway got down to business.

“You won’t be surprised to learn that we’re here about the ecstasy problem”.

“I know as little as I knew the last time you spoke to me”.

“Don’t worry, we figured as much. Nobody else in the building knows anything either. It’s a real mystery”.

“I take it your undercover exercise in Macclesfield didn’t reveal anything useful?”

“Nope. Nothing. Anyway, the good news is, if you haven’t heard, the boy in hospital is looking like he’s going to pull through. The bad news is, we believe this case has been sufficiently high profile enough to scare our perpetrator away from conducting his business inside Kenilworth Road”.

“How is that bad news?”

“Well, it’s good news for you. For us though it’s going to make it harder to catch him”.

“Is this why you didn’t make a big deal in the press about it when it first started happening?”

“No, it just so happens the first few cases weren’t as serious as this one. The first three cases were all minor illnesses ‘probably’ caused by the taking of ecstasy. This latest instance though put somebody on a life support machine and damn near killed him”.

This entire conversation was being played out here between me and Ridgway. The woman, clearly the subordinate of the duo, merely sat there staring at me like one of Mrs Wiggins’ little rottweilers. I didn’t mind talking to them about this ecstasy business though. It wasn’t as if I was involved or had anything to hide.

“Can I just ask at this juncture - where is Mr Wheelie today?” Ridgway continued.

“If he’s not in his office, I’ve no idea”.

“It’s just that we wanted to speak to everybody today, and for the most part we have done. We also though wanted to speak to somebody at the club about police control. The lady in reception told us we would be best speaking to a man called Dave Wheelie, only he appears not to be around”.

“Like I said, if he’s not in his office I’ve got no idea”.

“Well anyway, it’s clear the undercover thing didn’t reap any dividends in catching this guy. Therefore, we feel it’s time to take the alternative route of trying to squeeze his operations by putting more police inside the ground on a matchday – uniformed police that is”.

Now I was slightly confused.

“I thought you just said he’s unlikely to carry on dealing at Luton matches now”.

“That’s the sensible theory, but it won’t be good enough for the press and it won’t be good enough for the family of the boy who has just come off life support. Neither is it good enough for us. Making the assumption there won’t be any further ‘mishaps’ is all well and dandy. However, if some other poor sucker ends up in hospital a month down the line then we’re going to get crucified for not doing anything”.

“So you want an extra police pressence at Luton matches so that if someone else gets hurt, you can at least say you made an effort to stop it?”

“You’re a fast learner, Mr Martin” said Myers, her first comment of the day.

It suddenly occurred to me just how much Myers reminds me of Garry. They both seem to just sit by their partner’s side really passively before every now and again chipping in some form of patronising comment.

“And I suppose this arrangement would also make the club look like we made an effort to stop it too?”

“Wow, you’re a VERY fast learner” she said, upping her sarcasm.

“The only thing is, we would expect your club to pick up the tab” interrupted Ridgway.

“I don’t think the powers that be will be too thrilled with that notion” I said. “We’re already losing money hand over arse”.

“Not our concern. Fail to act though and you might just find some of your future home games getting cancelled. As a police force we have the power to do that”.

At this moment he produced a folder from the little laptop bag he’d brought with him.

“This document shows the costs and various other details of hiring extra bodies. You might want to pass it to whoever makes the big decisions around here and get them to get back to us”.

“I will” I assured him.

The two officers stood up at this point and moved towards the door. I was suddenly happy to see them leave. They’d grown tiresome.

“Well, until our next meeting, do take care. Good luck on Saturday”.

“Thanks. Cheerio”.

Once they were gone I went to the window and looked out at the pitch. Of all the football grounds in all the country, what were the odds we would be the ones to get the cowboy ecstasy peddler who likes to flog his product at football matches? I swear I’m cursed and so is this club.

[lutontown1991]

Loving this mate

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks, LutonTown. I hope I can do better with your club next season - if I'm given the chance lol

A quick note on future updates... I'm beginning to feel the strain of making each update so large. From now on I'm going to experiment with splitting each update into two and posting them on separate days. This doesn't mean the story will be skimped on in any way, it just means there will now only be a matchday once every two updates rather than in every single one

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27/03/09 - Vader re-mastered

One thing Luton Town do not own in the vicinity of Kenilworth Road is Cyril and Lee’s port-a-cabin. It might be stationed outside the ground only with the football club and the council’s blessing, but in the ownership stakes it belongs squarely to Cyril and Lee. It’s entirely their business. As I went around to pay them a visit this afternoon however they had some interesting news to share, or at least Cyril did. Lee was away on auction duty.

“After this season is over, we’re moving the port-a-cabin inside the gates” Cyril told me, busy using a screwdriver to fiddle around with a Darth Vader helmet. “We’re going to be taking up a space in the car park right next to the club shop where people buy their programmes and Luton shirts etcetera”.

“Why?” I asked, sat in the same chair I’d once used for my deathmatch victory.

“We feel that more fans will see us once we’re in the new spot. Where we are at the moment, people only tend to pass us if they’re using one particular side of the ground”.

“Will the club be charging you?”

“Yeah they’re going to take 10% of our earnings. It won’t make any difference though because we probably pay the council more than that at the moment. Also, this way, we get to have a prominent space on the Luton Town website. Free advertising”.

“Good stuff”.

I was glad to see that Cyril was fully recovered from his trauma suffered at the hands of Towzer and Garry. Apparently the two buffoons hadn’t been back here even once since I’d offered them that fight.

“What brings you down here anyway, James? You don’t usually come down without a reason”.

“Very true, and yes I have come for a reason”.

Not for the first time this month, I then began to explain the entire Tommy Wiggins story from the very beginning. Cyril didn’t seem overly interested, and continued to fiddle with the screwdriver and helmet throughout. He was at least paying attention enough though to know when I’d finished.

“So what are you going to do now?” he asked.

“Well, seeing as Luton don’t want to know, I wondered if you yourself fancied putting Tommy’s name on something Luton-related. I know it’s asking a lot but I wondered if you fancied renaming your port-a-cabin in his honour?”

For the first time in a good five minutes, Cyril took his eyes off the Darth Vader Helmet and looked at me. I couldn’t at first tell if it was a stare of intrigue or one of disbelief.

“You want us to rename the cabin – ‘The Tommy Wiggins Souvenir Shop?”

“Something like that, yeah”.

“I don’t know, James. Me and Lee have worked really hard on this business. It almost doesn’t seem right to just go and put this Tommy name on it instead of our own. Then again, it is a sad story. Regardless of whether or not the ghost side of things is true, it’s still worth giving this kid a tribute of some sort just because he was a die-hard Luton fan who died too young”.

“That’s exactly what I think! People like Dave Wheelie might not understand things like this, but I always thought someone like you or Lee would. That's why I came here. How about a name then which doesn’t make it sound like Tommy owns the business. How about – ‘The Luton Town Souvenir Shop, in memory of Tommy Wiggins’.

“Yeah that sounds better. I tell you want, let me talk to Lee about it when he gets back and I’ll drop you an E-mail”.

“Okay, sure”.

Just then a mechanical whirring made itself heard, and Cyril dropped his screwdriver in surprise. The noise was coming from the Darth Vader helmet.

“Ohhhhh yeah!” my host said with a big smile on his face.

“What is it?”

“This is a Darth Vader Interactive Headset 3000 Series Model. Approximately 2.5 million were produced back in the 1980’s, but they’re very hard to get a hold of now. This one we managed to get turned out to be broken when we got it, but now, thanks to the genius of yours truly, it looks like I’ve finally fixed it. Watch, I’ll give you a demonstration. It runs on batteries, and what you do is– you put it on your head like a normal helmet. Once you’ve done that, the mouthpiece says things in the voice of Darth Vader every five to ten seconds”.

Froth almost coming out of his mouth like a hungry dog, Cyril put the helmet on. I was now effectively looking at what Darth Vader would look like if he wore jeans and a t-shirt.

“Oppose me and you will perish!” Darth announced.

I had to admit the voice had a distinct likeness to the real Darth.

“I am your father, Luke!” Darth said five seconds later.

“Okay, I get the picture” I replied.

“We must send more reinforcements to that location!”

“I said I get the picture!”

“Stand against me, and you will fall!”

I was just wondering whether to get up and leave at this point when the door to the cabin opened. It was Lee, and he was carrying a bag of Mcdonalds food and what looked like two large cokes to go with it. On seeing Darth though he screamed in surprise and dropped everything on the floor, causing the cokes to split and spill everywhere. Then he turned and bolted back outside and around the corner.

“God, he’s such a wimp sometimes!” said Cyril, taking the helmet off and hurriedly tending to the mess.

“I think I’ll be off” I replied, getting out of my seat. “E-mail me once you’ve talked to Lee”.

“Don’t worry, I will”.

“Cheerio”.

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27/03/09 - Forewarning

It took over two hours to hear back from Cyril, and I couldn't help wondering if that had been the amount of time taken to catch hold of Lee and reassure him Darth Vader wasn't hiding out in the port-a-cabin. At least when he finally did reply though it was with reasonably good news.

Hi James.

Me and Lee have talked about your suggestion and we both give our approval. Please let’s wait until the summer though. We don’t want to give Luton any reason to change their mind about letting us inside the ground. I’m sure Tommy the ghost can wait another month or two.

Cyril

Two more months then? Was that satisfactory? There were other mails in my inbox but for now I left my chair and walked to the window. I’d begun to do this often when needing a moment to think about something, and the view down into the stadium from here was pristine. I reckoned some fans would pay for their ticket many times over to watch a match from here. Down on the pitch meanwhile I could see Fred busily tending to the grass, no doubt hoping to get it contour-perfect for our next home game.

As I stood there watching, the unmistakable figure of Margaret Oakenbridge wandered out of the player’s tunnel and strolled towards Fred. She reached him just a few seconds later and engaged him in conversation. What was going on here? I didn’t know Fred and Margaret knew each other. From this distance though Fred seemed unsurprised to see her.

I was fascinated by this so decided to go investigate. I left my computer on, hurried out of the room, and began heading down the stairs to get to the pitch. When I eventually got there Margaret had already gone (the journey does take a good couple of minutes for me – the stairs are on the opposite side of the second floor from where my office is). Fred was now hovering just outside the centre circle attempting to fix a divot.

“Fred!” I called out, deciding I might as well say hello now I was out here.

In response Fred rifled his pitchfork into the grass and leaned on it.

“Mr Martin sir” he said, nodding curtly.

“I didn’t know you and Margaret Oakenbridge knew each other”.

“She used to know my wife” Fred replied, sweating profusely from his work. “We all used to go to the same church group on Sunday mornings. I know what you’re thinking – you think she’s more like a servant of the devil than an angel of the lord. Well young man, Margaret she ain’t no devil, she just comes from a time when things were done a lot differently”.

“I didn’t think....”

“You didn’t think I knew that she’s unpopular? Yeah well she’s not blind to the fact. It was very different thirty years or so ago though when she first starting working. Back in those days there was a thing called respect for your elders, and respect for your boss. Not these days. These days, if you don’t like someone, you moan and whinge and put farting cushions on their chair”.

As much as his point may have been valid on some level, I wasn’t in the mood to discuss it. As he started to babble on more than was necessary, I glanced in the direction of the haunted goalmouth. It’s strange, but on a matchday I don’t even think about Tommy or the haunting or anything to do with that. At a time like this though, when the stadium is empty and I’m out on the pitch as I was here, It’s all I can do to ‘not’ look at that goalmouth and feel a touch of the creeps coming on.

“I hear what you’re saying about Margaret but I don’t even work in those offices anymore”.

“You’ve still got a job though” Fred replied. “I might not have one next season. That’s why Margaret came to see me. My wife must have told her what Dave said to me”.

“What do you mean? What did he say to you?”

“He said I might be asked to retire at the end of this season. Apparently I’ve been a bit slow doing various jobs around the stadium over the past few months – complete load of rubbish. It’s all this New Luton nonsense if you ask me. They want to refresh the whole image of the club, him and that Glynn Edwards”.

“They can’t just make you retire!”

“Aye they can laddy. I’m past retirement age. They can do what they want”.

“Look, I’ve got to get back to work. Let me see what I can do about this though, Fred. I’ll have a word with Dave for you when I’ve got a minute - see what’s what”.

“Aye okay, fat lot of good it will do though”.

Fred unearthed the tip of his pitchfork and went back to business. I meanwhile went up to my office and back to the remainder of my e-mails, intent on E-mailing Dave to set up a meeting. I was getting sick of this whole employee reshuffling now. First there had been Margaret, then Glynn, and now they wanted rid of Fred? Enough was enough. Maybe it was getting close to the time I would have to think about threatening Dave with my joker.

Before I could send any E-mails though I still had two in my inbox to check. The first one was from the FA.

Dear Mr Martin.

You’ll be pleased to know your player Paul McVeigh has been awarded third place in the February ‘Goal of the Month’ competition for League 2. A certificate is in the post. The goal in question was his strike against Aldershot.

Frank Graft

The Football Association

This is the second time this season we’ve won this. Gareth O’Connor won the prize for third place in December’s competition. Maybe one of these days we’ll win gold or silver? The ironic thing about the winning goals from both McVeigh and O’Connor is that I think it’s the only time both players have actually scored this season.

One E-mail left, and this one made me forget all about McVeigh’s certificate in rather a hurry.

Dear James

I’m trying to write this E-mail in a way which makes it hard for you to guess who I am. In any case, you should know that one of your staff members is secretly a cop. I tell you this now because their undercover operation has been scrapped for reasons I won’t go into. Very soon they will conveniently ‘resign’ from their post at Kenilworth Road and return to the force.

Consider this a forewarning for the discovery of who the cop is so that you’re not too annoyed when you find out. They’re only doing their job though, just like you. Remember that.

Anonymous

The mail was from a hotmail account I didn’t recognise. Suffice to say though its contents made my head spin for the entire remainder of the day. I was only hours away from a long trip to Morecambe too. I really didn't need this today. I had too many other things to deal with.

'What the hell is going on here?'

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Next - Morecambe v Luton

[ScottleeSV]

28/03/09, League Match 40

Morecambe v Luton Town

GK - Dean Brill

DL - Sol Davis

DR - Claude Gnakpa

DC - George Pilkington

DC - Ronny Johnson

DMC - Kevin Nicholls ©

MC - Keith Keane

AML - Robert Eagle

AMR - Paul McVeigh

FC - Drew Talbot

FC - Dean Morgan

We had Keane and Eagle back for this one but my best striker Vincent Pericard picked up a knock on the morning we were due to travel. Thus, in came Drew Talbot with Aiden Quinn promoted to the bench. Morecambe opted for a strange kind of 4.3.2.1 formation which left them absolutely nothing in terms of width. To counter this I instructed my players to play mostly through the middle in an attempt to block our opponents out. That might sound negative but we were away from home and I was only too aware of how good an attacking force Morecambe are. They're the second top scorers in the league and they greatly impressed me with their attacking play during the 2-2 draw at Kenilworth Road earlier in the season. 'The Shrimps', as they're affectionately known, have slowly embedded themselves in the playoffs throughout the course of the season and may well be hoping to earn a second promotion in three seasons.

From the first whistle Morecambe went on the attack, weaving pretty patterns all over the place with their chosen tactic of short pass-and-move. In the 4th minute we had our first warning shot of what might become of us, Twiss threading the ball through to O'Connell who smacked the outside of the upright with a first time shot. Brill didn't even move. With our defence completely pegged back, Morecambe went on the attack again just a few minutes later. This time Stanley passed the ball to Drummond on the edge of the area. The verteran controlled the ball expertly and turned onto his left foot, thrashing a shot narrowly over the crossbar with defenders scrambling to get a leg in the way. A breakthrough though was not much longer in materialising. Left back Cummings broke down the left, and after his low cross was met with a diving header away by Ronny Johnson, Bacchus picked up the loose ball and curled one into the bottom right hand corner from twenty yards out. Smart finish, and well deserved. 1-0.

As a manager you can only hope a setback like this galvanises your team into action. It didn't happen here though. After 13 minutes Twiss once again caused havoc with his accurate through balls, setting Hunter away just left of central. The midfielder's shot wasn't a bad one but Brill manage to make a smart save, deflecting it away to safety. In the 21st minute Cummings once again surged down the left with all the space in the world. This time he crossed high, and Howe rose highest to power an attacking header just over the crossbar. The siege just didn't let up, and four minutes later Twiss decided to have a pop himself - his shot was well struck from twenty five yards out but curled wide. I think part of my problem here was that we've always relied on Pericard (and in the distant past, Slusarski) to get lots of knock-downs and headers from long balls pumped into the opposition half. Talbot and Morgan though don't have an effective heading ability between them, which meant all our attacks were being swiftly gobbled up by the hungry Morecambe defence.

Just as I was tempted to do something about this, Twiss bamboozed his way into our half like a non-league Gheorghe Hagi. He played a neat one-two with Hunter and reclaimed the ball about thirty yards from goal. From here he unleashed a super swirling shot which beat Brill like a lightening bolt (a lightening bolt that swirls). 2-0 to Morecambe. Oh dear. At this point though our hosts decided they'd had enough of picking us apart, and for the rest of the half they let us have some of the ball. We didn't create anything worth describing but we did manage to earn a couple of corners. At half time I quite rightly told the team they had been an utter disgrace in the first half. I also told them to play wide instead of blocking Morecambe down the middle. The only play I could think of from here was to use the space Morecambe weren't using. It would mean leaving huge gaps down the centre but I had to take a risk.

I'm amazed to say that it worked. In fact, the opening five minutes of the second half made me lament I hadn't gone for this tactic right from the start. Before the Morecambe faithful had even properly taken their seats again after half time, Davis slid the ball up the line to Eagle. He then played a one-two with Keane before collecting the ball again close to the byline. His cross deceived the goalkeeper in the air and landed perfectly on the head of the incoming Kevin Nicholls. My skipper was left the simple task of nutting the ball in from approximately two yards out. Goal!! 2-1. We were back in the match.

There were some nervous souls in the home dugout now. In the 55th minute we came close to equalising, Morgan and Talbot passing the ball to each other one too many times in the penalty area when one of them really should have just risked taking the snapshot. McVeigh was starting to tire at this point and he'd hardly touched the ball all game anyway, so I took him off for O'Connor. It wasn't long after this Morecambe had their first serious attack of the half, the ball being played through for Hunter to charge in on goal from a tight angle. For the second time in the match though Brill got the better of the attacking midfielder, beating the eventual shot away with some strong hands.

It was not however the beginnings of another Morecambe rampage. The next chance fell to us, Nicholls firing in a shot from twenty yards out which took a deflection and went behind for a corner. It was a real match now, not that farce of a first half an hour. Nothing came from the corner, mind. Proceedings even went a bit quiet over the next ten minutes. Keane hit a long range shot over the bar in the 65th minute and the home side responded in kind, Howe doing exactly the same thing two minutes later. In the 69th minute I decided to shake the game out of its lull and bring Quinn on for Talbot. The youngster had equalised against Morecambe last time out with a twenty five yard lob shot. Maybe he could do the same today? I hoped so.

In the 71st minute we produced a lovely six-pass move in the centre of midfield. It was full of neat and precise passes and the ball eventually fell to Nicholls on the edge of the area again. His shot wasn't deflected this time but neither was it on-target. It merely sailed harmlessly wide. I took Eagle off for Owusu in the 74th minute and two minutes later the substitute was gifted a glorious opportunity. Keane played a delightful angled through ball to the youngster, freeing him in the penalty area beyond the defence. The shot though was one of those accurate-but-soft efforts, and the keeper had just enough time to react to it. I put my hands on my head after this; I couldn't help wondering if I'd just seen our best chance to equalise go begging.

Alas, so it proved. With 82 minutes on the clock, a throw-in on the right found Stanley in space. The tireless midfield workhorse slipped the ball into Howe who found himself with even more space in the area than Owusu had. The striker buried his shot with aplomb and the points were safe for the home side. 3-1. We visibly gave up after this, and in the final ten minutes or so (including injury time) Morecambe could have added more goals. Howe didn't just have one more one-on-one chance to add to his tally, he had two. The first was well saved by Brill and the second one beat my keeper but hit the inside of the post. In the end I was relieved to finally hear the whistle go. It had been a brave effort in the second half but our first half performance ultimately proved costly. Full credit to Morecambe though - they look a worthy candidate to move into League 1. They're the best team I've seen this season.

FINAL SCORE (Att - 3783)

Morecambe 3 (Bacchus 9, Twiss 31, Howe 82)

Luton Town 1 (Nicholls 47)

(Table after 40/46 games. We have 10 wins, 19 draws, 11 defeats)

Notts County (43)

Chesterfield (42)

Chester City (33)

Bournemouth (30)

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

Macclesfield (26)

Luton Town (19)

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March round-up

Premiership

Top - Arsenal (71), Liverpool (67), Man Utd (65), Chelsea (60), Tottenham (52), Wigan Athletic (48), Aston Villa (47), Man City (47)

Bottom - Bolton (30), Middlesborough (29), Fulham (27), West Ham (27), Portsmouth (25), Hull City (25)

The Gunners now have a four point lead at the top and appear to be odds on favourites to win their first title in five years. The fact they have the league's TWO leading goalscorers hasn't hurt them - Adebayor and Van Persie both have 17 league goals. Tottenham's challenge for a champion's league spot meanwhile has now fallen completely by the wayside and probably landed in a ditch somewhere.

Gianfranco Zola has been sacked by West Ham and replaced by Ruud Gullit. It's the usual circus at Upton Park then. The Hammers remain in the bottom three on goal difference. I fancy that Hull City may gradually slip further and further away over the course of the final eight games. Apart from them though it's still anybody's guess as to who will join them.

--------

Championship

Top - Reading (84), Ipswich (71), Bristol City (69), Cardiff City (67), Sheff Utd (67), Doncaster (65), Southampton (63), Charlton (63)

Bottom - Swansea (43), Norwich (41), Watford (39), Crystal Palace (37), Blackpool (35)

It was a magical March for Reading, now top by an almost certainly insurmountable thirteen points. Ipwich and Bristol City meanwhile remain the mostly likely sides to finish second. Since my last round-up, Doncaster Rovers have gone on a great little run to gatecrash the playoffs again. Can they possibly dream of successive promotions? Top goalscorer in The Championship is Reading's Kevin Doyle with 25 goals.

At the basement, everybody seems to be picking up points on a reasonably regular basis. Three teams must perish though and one of them will probably be Blackpool. After that it's anybody's guess. There are a lot of big sides down there and a lot of ego's potentially about to get dented by an unexpected relegation. Personally I really hope Dave's beloved Watford take the plunge. Now THAT would be funny.

---------

League One

Top - Leeds (84), Millwall (69), Leicester (69), Crewe (66), Oldham (65), Leyton Orient (65), Peterborough (63)

Bottom - Cheltenham (45), Southend (43), Yeovil (42), Stockport (42), Walsall (41), Hereford (30)

Leeds have emphatically moved fifteen points clear of League 1 and all that remains is to confirm them as champions. Leicester have slowly risen towards the automatic places throughout the course of the season and may pinch it at the last. The outcome of the playoffs would then be anybody's guess.

The division's leading marksman is now Swindon's Simon Cox out on his own with 23 league goals. Sadly though the Wiltshire side are not contenders.

The relegation places are still largely undecided, lest you count Hereford. It truly has been a miserable season for them

-----------

League Two

Top - Shrewsbury (73), Darlington (71), Bradford (68), Morecambe (67), Rochdale (67), Bury (64), Brentford (60), Exeter (59)

Bottom - Notts County (43), Chesterfield (42), Chester City (33), Bournemouth (30), Macclesfield (26), Luton Town (19)

Aside from mentioning that Grant Holt has now scored 27 league goals for Shrewsbury this season, let's not focus on the top much. Down at the bottom it's pretty much over for us now at Kenilworth Road. I gave it my best shot but the defeats against Gillingham and Morecambe have left us with too much to do. We can get to 37pts with six wins from our last six games, but how likely is that?

I just hope I can hang onto my job and be given another chance in the Blue Square Premier next season. Early indications are that I may be invited to stick around but you never know in football, and you certainly never know at a club like Luton. Time will tell. I certainly don't accept responsibility for the relegation though. We'd have 49pts without the thirty point deficit, and that total would have left us miles clear of the relegation zone.

----------

Blue Square Premier

Top - Rushden (72), Wrexham (69), York City (69), Oxford (69), Cambridge (68), Torquay (66)

Bottom - Forest Green (45), Altrincham (44), Ebbsfleet (42), Eastbourne (40), Lewes (38), Barrow (34)

This looks like being the tightest of all the title races. Pre-season favourites Oxford have lost their last three away games to slip down to fourth, but they still have a game in hand on surprise leaders Rushden. York have shot back into contention since the last round-up, and their striker Daniel McBreen still leads the golden boot race with 24 league goals. Even Torquay down in sixth could still realistically win the league.

I fancy it's all over for Barrow down at the bottom. I think they've left themselves too much to do now. I'd also put money on Lewes and Eastbourne joining them, which wouldn't make it a good season for the newly promoted clubs. Ebbfleet are in the thick of the mess again after a shocking month which saw them pick up just one point.

----------

Blue Square North

Top - Tamworth (62), Gateshead (61), Stafford (59), Droylsden (57), Telford (56), Gainsborough (56), Farsley Celtic (55)

Bottom - Kings Lynn (40), Alfreton (38), Solihull Moors (38), Burscough (35), Vauxhall (33), Hucknall (30)

Sad news to report here - long time leaders Farsley Celtic completely crashed and burned during the month of March. Not only have they lost their grip on the top but they've also fallen like a stone to a position outside of the playoff places. Tamworth now top the pack with Gateshead and Stafford hoping to catch them. I also wouldn't rule out Telford.

It's been a good month for Kings Lynn. Three wins have seen them rise out of the relegation zone into a reasonable place of safety. The safe money would now be on those bottom three clubs being the three to fall into the Unibond League. Top goalscorers in the Blue Square North are Nathan Joynes of Stalybridge and Matthew Osbourne of Tamworth, both with 19 league goals.

-----------

Blue Square South

Top - AFC Wimbledon (65), Chelmsford (59), St Albans (58), Maidenhead (56), Bishop Stortford (56), Hampton and Richmond (55)

Bottom - Bognor Regis (43), Team Bath (42), Dorchester (40), Bromley (39), Eastleigh (32), Thurrock (32).

For me ole' mucker Steve Fairclough, the good times just keep on rolling. Wimbledon won five and drew one of Steve's first six games in charge, roaring the Dons past the dwindling St Albans to the top of the tree. HOWEVER, the plot thickens. Since then Wimbledon have drawn 1-1 away to struggling Team Bath and been beaten 1-3 away to Welling. Is Steve beginning to feel the pressure?

Simon Emery certainly is. His Bromley side remain in the relegation zone despite a month which saw the new man pick up his first couple of wins as manager. It's effectively all over meanwhile for Eastleigh and Thurrock, both marooned together on 32pts. The league's top scorer is still Sam Higgins of Chelmsford with 18 league goals.

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

Next - A surprise sacking at Kenilworth Road.

[QweebStyle]

Next - A surprise sacking at Kenilworth Road.

Oh no

[ScottleeSV]

Not this time, Queen. Might happen sooner or later though

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

02/04/09 - Dismissal

Whilst sat in my office today I got a text from Cassie, the third in as many days asking me when we would next meet. We’d swapped phone numbers before the Rotherham game a few weeks ago after I’d bumped into her just outside the Millmoor car park; she’d come looking for me when I hadn’t turned up to any of the local sights earlier that day. I had even avoided her completely on the subsequent away trip to Morecambe.

Pretty soon I'm going to have to either let her know conclusively that I'm not interested in being more than friends, or take things further with her and potentially wind up in Steve Fairclough’s old hospital bed. I'm probably going to be sensible and opt for the former. However, telling a beautiful young eighteen year old girl you don’t want to go out with her (when you’re single!) is easier said than done. I certainly don’t find it easy anyway, even if anybody else would.

Just I was pondering what sort of reply to send back, the door to my office burst open. It was Caroline, and she was both panting and crying. At the same time.

“James!” she wailed, staggering to the nearest chair as if she’d been shot.

“Jesus, what’s up?” I asked, immediately putting my mobile phone down and circling the desk to reach her.

“Oakenbridge sacked me! I’ve been sacked. She’s sacked me!”.

“Okay, calm down” I said. “Start from the beginning and tell me what happened”.

Caroline wiped her eyes with her sleeve and tried to stop sniffling. It took her a while to accomplish this, and I managed to both close the door and dig out a tissue for her in the time it took for the tale to start.

“Well, it’s a combination of loads of things really. She’s been warning me for this, that, and the other for weeks now. It started when she took exception to my skull and bone earrings the first day she was here. She didn’t give me a warning for that but she did give me a lecture. The following week she lambasted me being late and gave me a warning. Then she found out I’d be looking up that Tommy Wiggins stuff online when I should have been working, and that was warning number two. Then she gave me a final warning for ‘answering back’ – it’s like being back at school this place – and today she sacked me when she saw me finishing off a chocolate bar at my desk just after lunch had finished”.

“That bloody woman!” I said under my breath, as Caroline continued to sob.

“I really needed this job too” she said. “I know I was only part-time but I still needed the money”.

“Don’t worry” I said, getting a sense of deja vu as I did so. “I’ll have a word with Dave and see if I can get the decision overturned”.

“Don’t bother. Even if you succeeded, she’d only sack me for something else two or three weeks down the line. I might as well look for another job once I get.....”.

Just then she paused, and for a moment I had no idea why. Then I realised she was looking at an open notepad on my desk. There was nothing exciting on it though, just a few scribbled notes about our poor performance against Morecambe and the key areas we needed to improve in.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

“Your handwriting!” she exclaimed. “It’s the same handwriting as on the Valentine’s card I got back in February. You’re the one. You’re the one who sent it. Oh my god. I never thought that... Wow”.

She looked at me in utter shock, and now the tears were magically beginning to subside. I had a tricky moment to deal with here. I’d only sent that anonymous valentine to make sure she at least got one card. I hadn’t meant this to happen.

“Never mind the Valentine’s card” I said, rising to my feet and walking back around to my chair. “Let’s talk about your undercover operation. Are you a policewoman?”

“What?” she asked.

“You heard. I got an annoymous tip-off over E-mail the other day. Apparently somebody in this building is an undercover cop. I was also forewarned that said cop would conveniently resign from their position ‘very soon’. Seeing as you’ve been sacked today, I guess that makes you prime suspect”.

“I’m no policewoman!” Caroline blurted out. “Look at me! I’m not even old enough to have left uni yet! Besides, I didn’t resign, I was sacked”.

“Sacked or resigned – They both still amount to the same end goal, i.e. leaving the job. You could have deliberately made the mistakes which forced Oakenbridge to fire you”.

“That's crazy!” she shouted, standing up and tossing her tissue aside. Sorrow had clearly given way to controlled anger now.

“James, did it ever occur to you that this E-mail you got might just have been Darren pulling your chain? Look, if you’re just making this crazy story up because you’re scared to admit that you like me, then don’t. I’m sorry I put you on the spot by pointing out it was you who wrote the Valentine’s card but that’s no reason to try and put a wedge between us”.

She was glad it was me who had sent the Valentine’s card; that much was abundantly clear. I wasn’t deflecting the issue with the police accusation purely for convenience though. I genuinely needed to find out what was going on with that whole thing. If it was just somebody playing a prank then great. If it wasn’t, I wanted to know who the mole was. The funny thing is, Caroline’s sacking today had in my eyes slightly lowered the odds of her being the mystery person.

“I haven’t made the E-mail thing up” I said. “It’s genuine, and I can’t think about dating right now until I get this sorted!”

“So you did send the card?”

“Yes” I said without a trace of emotion. “I suspect you’re the cop though, so all my feelings of attraction have somewhat subsided for now. Don’t play the uni card either. You could be older than you say for all I know”.

What else could I have said? There was no way I could admit the real reason why I’d sent the card. The only thing to do was to bite the bullet and then make a reason up for not wanting to go out with her. If in the near future it was proven beyond doubt that Caroline was definitely not a policewoman, I would probably have to create a new reason for not wanting to date her. For now though, this would do, even at the cost of severe strain in our friendship.

Anyway, after a brief pause, Caroline turned on her heels and stormed towards the door.

“Fine, be like that!” she said as she was turning the doorknob. “One day though you’ll regret what happened today. If you weren't such a chicken, maybe something could have happened. BYE FOREVER!”

With that, she was gone.

“Mother of Mary” I said under my breath, wondering what I'd done to deserve my life.

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

03/04/09 - Rodeo Rock

I met with Brian down The Haunted Cow this evening. The reason for the change in surroundings was because I didn't want to run the risk of bumping

into Caroline so soon after yesterday. Besides, our chief pre-determined topic of conversation was the E-mail I'd received about the undercover cop.

It didn't feel right being anywhere near Caroline or anybody else from the football club whilst we were discussing it. Hell the cop could be Gav for all I know.

The Haunted Cow is a nice pub but it's also full of people who would probably be more suited to drinking in a ranch house by the side of a

desert highway somewhere in Arizona. Everybody seems to know everybody else in the place (except for us), and all the wood and furnishings are really old fashioned. There's also never anyone in the Haunted Cow under the age of forty, at least on the two occasions I've visited. Last time we came there was even this naff old singer called Prairie something.

"I doubt Caroline is a policewoman” said Brian once we’d sat down together with a pint. “Fat girls aren’t usually policewomen. How would they chase any crooks?”

“So who do you think it is then?”

“I don’t know. You know everyone in that building better than me though. IF the E-mail was genuine, and it’s still a ropey ‘if’, if you ask me, you’re in a better position than I am when it comes to evaluating everybody’s percentage likelihood of it being them. Come on, tell me who your biggest candidates are? You must have already given it a fair bit of thought before coming here tonight".

“Well” I began, taking a sip of my Tetleys. “Caroline’s definitely up there just for the fact she’s lost her job. I can’t see it being anybody else in the communal offices. Nicky’s too....well, she’s Nicky. I’d be staggered if she was police. Darren comes across as too genuine to be a policeman, and I doubt it would be Alison. I’ve met her husband; how many undercover operatives do you know would bring their spouse into it? Not many. I can’t see it being Brenda either, just for the fact she’s been more than happy to let me get Rory along to games. Whoever it is will probably be someone who up until now hasn't given away much about their private life. That would rule out Alison, Brenda, and Nicky for starters".

“What about Oakenbridge?”

“I was just coming to her. She’s definitely a candidate. She’s new, for one thing. Also, if this sacking was not down to Caroline plotting her own downfall, Oakenbridge might be said to be incompetent at her job. It doesn’t make any sense to fire a good worker like Caroline over some minor infringement. It stands to reason that an undercover cop might struggle to be good at their new job, if you get me. An undercover cop might make the mistake of sacking a worker just for the want of 'trying' to act like a manager would”.

“Yeah I see what you mean. Would the police really send somebody that old on an undercover mission though?”

“Why not? It would certainly divert attention away from them. Who would suspect a woman in her sixties?”

Just then the barman piped up on his microphone with an announcement to make in front of the whole pub.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. It’s that time again here at The Haunted Cow. Back by popular demand, I give you....Prairie Dog Peterson!”

To spattered applause from about four different people, out toddled Prairie from the backrooms. Just like last time, he was dressed as a cowboy and carrying an acoustic guitar.

“Christ, not this fu_ker again” I muttered to Brian.

“Wow, what a reception” Prairie said, criminally without any trace of sarcasm. “It’s great to be back here again. Tonight I’m going to be playing some more songs from my new album – ’32 Campfire Classics”.

“Yeah, shame they’ll never be pub classics though eh, Prairie?” – this from a big fat guy near the door, the same guy funnily enough who had heckled Prairie the last time we’d been here.

“Give it time, pilgrim” Prairie calmly responded. “Give it time. Anyhoo, I’ve got a special guest joining me up on stage tonight. His name is Spike Daley, or ‘Spikey’ as he’s known on the local music scene. Spike is an accomplished musician and he’s also a terrific backing vocalist. The older ones amongst you might remember his work on the Carl Denver records back in the early nineties”.

Prairie said this as if it was a question being thrown out to the rest of the room. Over the course of the next ten seconds though, nobody responded.

“Well anyway, please welcome....Spike Daley!”

As the same four people who had clapped the first time now clapped again, I turned back to Brian in an attempt to resume our conversation.

“If you want to know who my top candidate is, it’s Dave. The man has a gun in his safe for crying out loud! Who carries guns? Policemen. The fact that Dave doesn’t support Luton might be because he’s a copper from the Hertfordshire police or something”.

“Possibly, although I wouldn’t rule out that Erica woman if the way you describe her is true. It must be tempting for any undercover operative to act really cold and not give a lot away”.

“Yeah, I'm definitely not ruling out the chances of it being Erica”.

Once Spike Daley (or ‘Spikey’, as he’s apparently known on the local music scene) had reached the stage, Prairie Dog began to drone into his microphone again and Brian’s next comment was consequently drowned out. Spike incidentally was also dressed in cowboy wear only without the hat. He was carrying two spoons in one hand bound together by elastic bands.

“We’re going to start off with a racy one tonight, just to get those Haunted Cow limbs nice and loose. This one is called ‘Rodeo Rock”.

To a distinct lack of audience enthusiasm, Prairie then began play the guitar and sing at the same time. Spike meanwhile began twiddling his two spoons together to make a weird low sound effect.

“I bought myyy spurs from a hamlet way out west, and I wake up every day next to Lilly’s sweet left breast, cos I’mmmmmmmm just, a rockin rodeo boy!”

“Yeeeeeeeee haw!” shouted Spike into the second microphone.

“I burst into town and went straight for the sa-loon, I pulled out my gun and blew away a rude young goon, cos I’mmmmmmmm just, a rockin rodeo boy!”

“Yeeeeeeeeee haw!” repeated Spike

“She caught my glare in the distant neon sun, and she made me pull out, a different kind of gun, cos sheeeeeeeeeeeeeee’s just, a rockin rodeo girl!

“Owwwwwww-weeee” (Spike again)

This was all getting in the way of the business in hand, which was to discuss who we thought might be the undercover policeman (or woman).

"I can't make my mind up between Dave, Caroline, and Erica!" I shouted over the din. "Mind you, I suppose I've still got you to consider yet!".

"Haha" laughed Brian. "It's definitely not me, mate. You're perfectly safe there. And anyway, you've met my family".

"Yeah. I'd probably rank you as being least favourite, actually".

"I'm glad to hear it".

"And before you ask, by the way, no I am not even remotely considering the possibility of Cyril being the imposter".

"Ha! I wasn't going to!"

"He trotted out the back and he warned me of attack, he glistened like a flame in the Oklahoma rain, cos heeeeeeeeee's just a rocking rodeo horse!"

"Clip clop clip clop clip clop" said Spike really quickly.

"I've had enough of this s__t already" I said, downing my pint. "Come on, I fancy a kebab".

"Me too".

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Next - Lincoln City v Luton Town

[ScottleeSV]

04/04/09, League Match 41

Lincoln City v Luton Town

GK – Dean Brill

DL – Sol Davis

DR – Claude Gnakpa

DC – George Pilkington

DC – Ronny Johnson

DMC – Kevin Nicholls

MC – Keith Keane

AML – Robert Eagle

AMR – Paul McVeigh

FC – Dean Morgan

FC – Drew Talbot

Vincent Pericard was not yet ready to come back so we were unchanged from the team which lost at Morecambe. We hadn’t applied ourselves very well in that game but I didn’t want to make wholesale changes. I know this squad like the back of my hand – changing everybody around with six games to go isn’t going to make any significant difference at this stage of the season. The best I can do is fine tune one or two small things and hope we have better luck. Lincoln lined up with the same 4.4.2 as us and were no doubt hoping to avenge their 1-0 loss at Kenilworth Road earlier in the season. From memory, Keith Keane scored the winner in that match.

This was a different kettle of fish however, and Lincoln proved that by scoring with the game’s first significant attack after nine minutes. Conceding early goals away from home has been our Achilles heel all season. In truth though, I just don’t know how to stop it happening. More often than not, the opposition will just be completely dominant until they’ve got what they want i.e. a goal. In this instance a long ball was pumped forward to Lincoln striker Wright, who controlled it forty yards out and ran at the defence. There was no imminent danger but Pilkington dived into a tackle and Wright skipped over it to go clean through. He then unleashed a lovely curling finish past Brill into the far corner. 1-0.

There was no response from us after the goal, and for a long time we sat like muppets with a big fat zero in the shots column. After 16 minutes midfielder Frecklington got the ball for Lincoln and passed it to Wright again. This time the goalscorer threaded a ball through to Graham, who luckily for us had Pilkington and Johnson in close attendance. Graham managed to get a shot away but it was a wide yard of goal.

Our first attack came five minutes later, albeit on the counter after Lincoln had slid the ball into our crowded penalty area. McVeigh hammered the ball downfield and Talbot managed to get in behind the defence. He took the ball down with one touch and was forced to shoot with the second one due to the presence of defenders on his coat-tails. The shot was low and true but the keeper palmed it away with an outstretched hand.

We had a nice little spell after that, yet created very little. We forced one or two corners which came to nothing and also had a long range shot over the bar, courtesy of Keane. Down the other end, Graham also had a speculative effort go high into the crowd behind the goal. It was a dull passage of play but one where we were mostly in control of the football. I was able to feel a small crumb of encouragement from it.

With 43 minutes on the clock, the busy Frecklington curled a long range free kick straight into the arms of Brill. From the resulting kick-out and head tennis, Keane won the ball in midfield and passed it forward to Talbot. He then slid a lovely through ball to Morgan who was in on goal. My striker elected for a delicate loft shot which floated over the keeper and just over the bar. That was the second half chance to go begging, and there were no more before half time.

In the dressing room Pilkington announced that he was struggling with a knock and had to come off, not that it stopped me giving him a ticking off for being at fault for the opening goal. It’s hard enough coming to these places without handing the away team a free goal to get the match started. Anyway, to replace Pilkington I brought on George Beaveon. I also told the team to keep applying themselves and sooner or later one of these chances we occasionally create might just end up in the net.

The home team began the second period the brightest, Bailey going on a Maradona-esque run deep into our half. Thirty yards from goal he unselfishly laid the ball off to Graham, who rifled a firm shot narrowly over the crossbar. Such was the power behind that one I think Brill might have struggled had it been a few inches lower. In the 54th minute Keane got the ball in midfield and curled a ball over the top for Morgan to chase. It was heading towards the corner flag but the goalkeeper still saw fit to race my striker to the ball. The keeper won this battle but strangely booted the ball back towards the centre circle instead of launch it into the stand. Keane was remarkably the man whose feet the ball landed at, and with the keeper a long way out of his goal, he now had the chance to take a free shot from fifty yards. Unfortunately though, he pulled it a yard wide.

I took McVeigh off for O’Connor in the 55th minute, my usual switch at this stage. A lull in play followed with nothing exciting happening for a quite a while. Of course, this suited Lincoln far more than it did us, so I was more than a little agitated we weren’t forcing the play more. After 70 minutes, Morgan was played through by a long ball from his keeper. He was sandwiched between two defenders though (despite technically being ‘clean through’), and it wasn’t much surprise to me that his eventual shot went over the bar.

Back came our hosts in the 72nd minute, Kerr firing in a direct free from just beyond the far right corner of the penalty area. I was an acute angle to shoot from but the shot was expertly struck. Brill had to make a fine save to tip it over the bar. From the resulting corner, Bailey lofted one clean over everybody towards the back post. Striker Wright went up with a defender and shamelessly won the ball at a canter, powering an angled header into the net for his second goal of the game. 2-0.

We didn’t deserve to be two down on the balance of play but that’s just the way it goes. Wright had a quality day in front of goal where as both Talbot and Morgan contrived to do nothing but blunder. They were at it again towards the end of the game. First, Morgan was played clean through from an angle only to chip the ball onto the roof of the net. Then, with seven minutes left, Talbot went through from the opposite angle only to pull a low shot wide of the upright. Brown fired a free kick just over the bar for Lincoln in the 90th minute, and soon after that the referee blew his whistle to end the game.

FINAL SCORE (Att - 4048)

Lincoln City 2 (Wright 10, 73)

Luton Town 0

(Table after 41/46 games played. We have 10 wins, 19 draws, 12 defeats)

Notts County (45)

Chesterfield (43)

Bournemouth (33)

Chester City (33)

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

Macclesfield (27)

Luton Town (19)

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06/04/09 - How much is that doggy in the window?

I’ve got a long story to tell today and it begins in the town centre. I was just passing Waterstones wondering whether to go in or not, when suddenly I noticed out of the corner of my eye young Rory Easthope. The little fellow was stood by himself looking through the windows of Waterstones perhaps considering the same dilemma.

“Hullo, Rory” I said, stopping next to him.

“Oh, hello” he said nervously.

“Thinking of buying a book?”

“Yeah, I’m going to get the last Harry Potter. I haven’t bought it yet. Mum gave me some money to come into town and get it”.

“Well you won’t get it stood out here”.

“I know. I was just looking at these”.

He pointed through the glass to a selection of non-fiction dog books. I figured it must be some kind of dog themed week because books concerning dogs were dominating an entire window ledge all to themselves.

“Are you thinking of getting a dog too?”

“Not today, but definitely sometime in the future, yeah”.

“What sort of dog would you like the most?”

“That one” he replied, pointing to a small ginger dog on the front cover of 'Puppy love : How to nurture your sweet little puppy' by Joss Kingston.

“What sort of dog is that?”

“It’s a King Charles Cavalier. They’re small dogs renowned for being cute and lazy. That gingery red one in the picture there is known as a ‘ruby’ variety, which is the colour I want. They’re expensive though; young ones cost over £400”.

“Jesus, you certainly sound like you know your stuff!”

“Yeah, I’ve already got some dog books at home”.

This was all well and good, but what I really wanted to ask him was whether he was still coming to Luton games. The last I’d heard about Rory was that his estranged father, Dennis, had returned one night and told him he couldn’t go to games anymore. Brenda though had pledged to overrule that decision the moment Dennis buggered off back to where he’d come from.

“Are you still coming to the matches, Rory?”

“Yeah, every single one – shame about the Gillingham result though”.

“Yeah it was. You know, I’ve got a confession to make. I promised your mother I’d look up towards where you sit every single game and check that you’re there. At first I did but recently I’ve been forgetting. You’re a big lad though – what are you, twelve? – you don’t need me checking up on you, do you?”

“No, and it’s okay, mum told me about the checking-up-on-me thing when I first starting going. I know you haven’t always been doing it but I tell her you did anyway”.

“Good man!”

I gently punched Rory on the arm and he smiled at me. Before either of us could speak again though, a police vehicle pulled up by the side of the road. It had barely stopped moving before Ridgway and Myers suddenly hopped out of it and started towards me.

“James, we’re going to have to ask you to come with us” said Ridgway.

Before answering I turned back to Rory to say that I’d catch up with him another time. The young lad had already slipped off though, probably into Waterstones.

“What for?” I asked.

“It’ll become clearer down at the station” Myers replied.

“Look” I said. “I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me why”.

Ridgway sighed and then briefly ducked backwards slightly to let a bystander past. It wasn’t exactly 'heaving' on the high street but the three of us we’re still getting in the way of other people. I didn’t for one second think that was the reason Ridgway and Myers wanted to continue this back at the station though.

“James” said Ridgway, considering my words carefully and no doubt how best to side-step them. “We’ve still heard nothing from your club about required extra police presence at matches, so if you want your next home match cancelled, by all means refuse to come to the station with us. Mark my words though, we do have the power to cancel your games on the fly, and we will make it known to the press that your inability to co-operate with us was the chief obstacle behind talks breaking down”.

“Is that what this is all about, the police costs thing?”

“No. James, just get in the car. We’re getting bored”.

On that note I relinquished my thinly baked streak of resistance and got into the backseat of the police car. It wasn’t worth the risk of refusing Ridgway and then having the next match called off; I’d be vilified in the press, and I was on shaky enough ground as it was. At least the cops weren’t slapping handcuffs on me and making a scene.

Off we headed then to Luton Police Station on Buxton Road. It wasn’t a long journey, and I didn’t think much about why I was in this situation en route. I actually stared out the car window and thought about that King Charles puppy on the Waterstones book. I got thinking that maybe I should get a dog, something to stop me talking to myself on those long nights in the flat by myself. Oh what a depressing piece of self-pity.

Walking into a police station wasn’t a big deal for me; I’d been in one twice before, the previous time to act as one of those look-a-like people who stand in police line-ups carrying a number on a piece of card. That had been fun – some old woman had actually said my number apparently and claimed I was a rapist, the daft old bat.

Once inside reception, Ridgway and Myers wasted no time in leading me straight to an interview room located in a corridor just off the side of the waiting area. They didn’t actually hang around to interview me though. They just shoved me in the room and then left, closing the door behind them without so much as a word to explain what would happen next.

I presumed they’d just gone to sort out some paperwork, or to fetch a jug of water, or some other unimportant crap to further waste the taxpayer’s time with. Ridgway and Myers though did not return at all. In fact, I didn’t see them again for the rest of the day. Two people may have left me in that interview room but only one person returned to get me out of it (and not before a good long chat either). I nearly had a seizure when I saw who it was.

“Oh please say you’re f_cking kidding” I said, suddenly seeing one of my own colleagues dressed in police uniform for the first time.

“I’m sorry James, it’s not a joke” came the reply. “Please let me explain though”.

[pooman2279]

Riveting stuff this! Can't wait for the next part. One of the most consistent stories I've seen in ages

[WelshWolf]

You do know that right now I really, really, really hate you....

How can you leave me hanging like this?

But seriously, well done , as Pooman said above this is consistent in everyway... keep it up, please.

[QweebStyle]

as Pooman said above this is consistent in everyway

Well thats what you want lol.

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks to all the kind comments above. It's the ideal time for some encouragement, given how crap I'm doing on the pitch. My many thanks

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06/04/09 - Goodbye, my friend

“I seriously can’t believe this” I said, pacing backwards and forwards at the back of the room.

“I know it’s a tough thing to find out” Alison replied. “Like I said though, just let me explain”.

Luton Town’s presumably ‘former’ ticket administrator now sat down in the seat closest to the door. She looked different in this environment. It wasn’t just the police uniform. She had her hair locked away in a bun where as back at the office she always let it flow freely down past her shoulders. In the brief moment I had to think about it, I almost hated myself for still thinking she was attractive.

“What were you investigating?” I asked, deciding to cut to the chase instead of slagging her off.

“Dilic” said Alison. “Before he came here he was always suspected by the Serbian authorities of being involved in terrorist projects. Our mantra here, in collaboration with a branch of the secret service I won’t name, was to investigate Dilic after his arrival in the UK and make sure he wasn’t planning to involve himself in anything untoward on our own soil”.

“That’s a bit thin isn’t it?”

“The issue of tackling home-grown terrorism has been a very sensitive subject in my world since the 7/7 bombings. How do you think we now stop further incidents like that from happening? We act on thin rumours and stamp out evil intentions before they’ve even begun. Sometimes a thin rumour leads us nowhere - it’s part and parcel of the job”.

From the way Alison was sat at the table answering questions as I paced around asking them, you could almost be forgiven for thinking I was the cop and she was a suspect. She obviously wanted to justify herself to me, at least that much was clear.

“Have you found anything out then? Was your deceiving of us all worth it in the end?”

“Sadly not. I’ve not managed to find out anything in my time at Kenilworth Road to back up the theory that Dilic might be dirty. Now the plug on my cover has been pulled. There’s only so long my superiors were going to keep me in play without producing any results”.

“I still can’t believe you fooled everybody this long”.

“Didn’t you think it was strange I only turned up to do my job around September time? Everybody else began their jobs in the early summer. Me, I began much later”.

“You were on holiday though. The Maldives wasn’t it?”

“Didn’t you think it was strange though someone would take a holiday as long as that one right at the start of their new job? Not very normal is it?”

She had a point there. I’d never considered that. I was bored of pacing up and down by this point so I sat down awkwardly in the spare chair and sighed deeply.

“It didn’t occur to me the timing of your holiday was strange” I replied. “In fact I’m surprised Dave didn’t kick up a fuss about it”.

“Dave was aware of who I was from the very beginning, not that he would admit it if asked. Originally he employed another woman to do my job, but thanks to both my department’s intervention and Dave’s co-operation, we paid off the other girl to resign before she’d even started. Then we set the Maldives story in play whilst I prepared for my assignment, and eventually I turned up for work. I do admin work as part of my police work so I didn’t envisage struggling with the whole ticketing thing”.

“Yeah it makes sense that Dave would go along with that. He welcomes any chance he can get to throw a spanner in the works and make life difficult for Dilic and the club”.

“I have no interest in ghosts, by the way” Alison continued. “I only accepted the offer to go along with you on the ghost hunt because I thought I might get the chance to do a bit of late night exploring of the offices, particularly the one belonging to Dilic. The chance might not have been forthcoming on that particular occasion, but being there with you at the time of night we were there gave me the confidence to go back on future nights all by myself”.

“What about Paul? I didn’t think undercover cops took their spouses with them on jobs, unless of course he wasn’t really your husband”.

“He’s not really my husband. I’m married to somebody else entirely. Paul is also a cop, same department as me”.

“Well” I said, standing up to leave. “I think that just about concludes the interview. I’ll be going. For the record, interview terminated at...”

“James, wait. I know that....”

“No, you know nothing!" I suddenly shouted. "I don’t want to hear about how much you wish all this could have gone down a different way, or that this experience has made you wish you really were a ticket administrator at a struggling League 2 club, or even that you think I’m a great manager destined for the Premiership, despite my atrocious record to the contrary. I don’t want to hear about any of that s__t. In fact I don’t want to hear anything from you. All I want to do is get the f__k out of here, and think about how I’m going to explain this to those poor people back at the office who actually thought you were their friend”.

I opened the door but Alison tried to block me leaving with an outstretched arm. I’ve got to admit she looked genuinely distraught at how annoyed I was.

“James....”

“Move your arm out of the way, Alison. I’m not staying any longer, and if I were you, I’d think about wearing your hair in that bun for quite a considerable period after today”.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is - If Dilic ever finds out about this, you might want to think about skipping the country”.

“I can’t see how he.....”

“Yeah well don’t rule out the possibility of Nicky and the like running off and telling him. Women scorned and all that. Goodbye Alison”.

She didn’t reply this time and I was free to wander back down the corridor towards reception. Just as I got there, two policemen marched through the front doors escorting a young Asian looking man who had handcuffs on behind his back. I could have sworn it was the same guy I’d seen beating up the blindfolded guy at Bear’s dojo a while back. It was the grin that alerted me to who he was.

Just as I reached the front doors, the handcuffed man suddenly burst free from his captors and began high kicking them to a series of “Ayeee-yah!” noises. One policeman flew backwards into the wall and crumpled down on the floor unconscious. Another policeman, after being kicked in the neck, bent double and clutched his neck as if sensing it might have had some serious damage done it; he wandered off into the corridor I’d just come from shouting and screaming. In the meantime, the handcuffed man crouched down over the crumpled copper by the wall and began blindly searching his uniform for the keys which would free him.

The escape attempt didn’t last much longer though. Just as the keys were finally found, five more policemen appeared from various corridors leading off reception and all piled onto Bear’s protégée with all their might. It was the untouched receptionist (in addition to the screaming neck guy) who had raised the alarm. Still, not bad entertainment whilst it lasted.

“I think you might have trouble with that one” I called out to Alison, who had entered reception on the tail of all the reinforcements.

Alison didn’t respond, and walked off back the way she’d come. It was definitely time for me to leave.

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08/04/09 - Battle plan

It was a rough twenty four hours for me. I elected not to tell everybody else about Alison’s betrayal (a strong word perhaps, but that’s just how I feel right now) at work, choosing instead to call them up one by one in the early evening. Predictably enough they were all highly disturbed by the revelation, and pledged never to speak to Alison again.

Twenty four hours after that I managed to arrange a meeting between me, Brenda, Darren, and Nicky. It was to take place at Nicky’s house. There was no particularly reason for that choice in destination; it just came to pass that Nicky was the first person in the canteen to clap her hands together and volunteer. Caroline was also invited to attend but chose not to. Aside from the obvious assumption that Caroline would probably still be pis_ed at me, I guess she might also have felt that to see all her former colleagues right now would be too painful for her.

Once we were all sat in the posh (and very purple) living room of Nicky and Sally, I sat forwards on the edge of my armchair near the window and prepared to address everybody. Brenda and Darren were sat together on one sofa, and our two hosts were sat on the other. Bertie the tortoise, Nicky’s pet, was roaming around on the floor meanwhile with a distinct sense of purpose. Brenda looked a touch intimidated by him.

“Right everyone” I began. “I’m glad you all came. I’ll get straight down to business. Basically, as some of you may or may not already know, I’ve been keeping to myself for quite some time now a collection of hard evidence which categorically proves that Dave Wheelie is trying to shaft Luton Town Football Club every chance he gets. I not only have photographs proving that Dave is a staunch Watford supporter, but I also have a handwritten document containing Dave’s scribbled notes as to which managerial candidates he was considering for the Luton job last summer. The notes clearly indicate that he only wanted poor candidates, people more likely to mess the club up rather than succeed with it”.

“People like you, James?” Nicky grinned.

“Yes, people like me” I smiled. “Thanks Nicky. Anyway, what I want to get you all thinking about as you leave today, is the possibility of taking any one of three options I’m about to outline to you. The first option is for me to use the evidence I have against Dave to blackmail him into letting Caroline have her old job back. I know Oakenbridge was Caroline’s superior but Dave has the power to overrule Oakenbridge and we all know it. Whilst I was at it, I could also use my hold over to Dave to get rid of Oakenbridge and restore things back to the way they used to be”.

“I like that option” Darren said, nodding his head.

“Yeah” said Nicky. “In fact, why haven’t you done it already?”

Of the Luton employees present, only Brenda said nothing. She perhaps suspected there was a ‘but’ coming on and she was right. Sally meanwhile was also silent, as you might expect. She looked completely oblivious to all this.

“As much as this course of action might sound utterly fantastic, I do have to bear in mind the permutations of what might happen in the aftermath. In the short time I’ve known him Dave Wheelie comes across to me like an extremely unpredictable and unstable character. Even if his best bet, in the event of me blackmailing him, would be to go along with it, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’d take it. Part of my job as a football manager is to read people. This is what I read when it comes to Dave Wheelie...

“Now Dave might have a good job” I continued. “He probably also gets a very healthy pay packet. I don’t think he’s a happy man though. He strikes me as a bit of a loner. There’s an outside chance he might react badly to the blackmailing and do something ridiculous, even if said action would be hugely to his detriment”.

“What do you think he might do?” Brenda asked.

“Well, the man has a gun in his safe. Heaven forbid what he might do if he ever got depressed, or completely flipped out. I sense he already dislikes me, Darren, and Brian because we haven’t invited him to any more house parties - even though we haven’t actually had any! I also think he has a low opinion of Nicky due to the time he tried it on with her and she wasn’t interested. I’m largely speculating here but I doubt he likes our communal office friendships. I think he feels left out of them, and unable to get involved. I don’t want to expose any of you to a potential sociopath if this blackmailing thing was to generate an unsavoury reaction”.

A brief silence followed, as everybody took this onboard. Nobody seemed convinced by my theory that Dave might be a danger to people though. The thought of an Oakenbridge-free office was just too much for them.

“I think you might be going a little bit too far there, James” – this from Brenda. “I’ll admit the fact he has a gun in his office is slightly creepy, but that doesn’t mean he’s about to start blowing people away should the slightest thing annoy him”.

“Perhaps not, however the existence of the gun at least justifies me pointing out the possibility, no matter how remote”.

“What are the other two options?” Nicky asked. “You said there were three. If blackmailing Dave is only one then what are the other two?”

“Well, option number two is to simply do nothing and carry on as though nothing has happened. This would leave Caroline out in the cold but it’s probable she could find another part-time job somewhere else, even at the annoyance of being separated from her friendships”.

“And option three?” Darren enquired this time.

“Option three is for you guys to try and find a new job. This club is a one big internal mess. I know those of you still left enjoy working together, but sooner or later you could all end up falling victim to another Oakenbridge tantrum. That would leave you out of work and in as big a short term jam as Caroline finds herself in”.

Another silence ensued, and after this one everybody mutually decided to go off home and have a think about everything I’d said. As we all filed through the hallway towards the front door, Sally caught up to me for a quick word.

“That was quite a speech you gave everyone” she said, as Brenda nudged past her nodding a goodbye in my direction.

“Well, it had to be said. Tough times are afoot at the club right now”.

“Why rush off so quickly? Why don’t you hang back a while and have a drink with me and Nicky?”

I suddenly noticed that Sally was curling a strand of hair idly around one of her fingers. Was that a flirtation sign I’d once read about? In any case, as much as she was attractive, I wasn’t in any mood to ‘hang back a while and have a drink’. I had too much on my mind. The pledge I’d given to Brian about making a return to the world of dating was going to have to remain on the backburner for just a few more weeks. The season might have been about to prematurely end from a football perspective, but off the pitch I sensed the drama was only just beginning.

“I will some other time” I said to Sally, zipping my coat. “But not this time”.

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Next - Bury v Luton

[ScottleeSV]

11/04/09, League Match 42

Bury v Luton Town

GK – Dean Brill

DL – Sol Davis

DR – Claude Gnakpa

DC - Ian Roper

DC – Ronny Johnson

AMR – Paul McVeigh

AML – Robert Eagle

DMC – Kevin Nicholls

MC – Keith Keane

FC – Vincent Pericard

FC – Dean Morgan

Due to the injury suffered by George Pilkington in the previous match, I was forced to recall Ian Roper in the centre of defence. Roper was a first choice player in this position earlier in the season, eventually losing his place when Ronny Johnson arrived in the new year. He will no doubt be pleased to have been given this late season chance to shine. Earlier in the season Bury shut us out at Kenilworth Road with a very defensive formation which ultimately led to a 0-0 draw. They went 4.4.2 today though so the signs were set for a much more expansive contest.

As far as the relegation issue was concerned, we needed to win and hope that both Chester and Bournemouth did not. I wasn’t thinking about that though; as far as I was concerned, we were into the second of six dead rubbers today between now and the summer. Our realistic hopes of staying up had died away to Morecambe, in my opinion. The Bury fans took great amusement in our current predicament, singing songs early on such as the famous “Going down, going down” on repeat song.

With just four minutes on the clock there was a multi-player skirmish ten yards into our half, the result being that striker Andy Bishop came away with the ball. He immediately ran at the defence and decided that Ian Roper was there for the taking. Bishop sprinted past Roper to earn the right to approach the goal from an angle, a bit like Michael Owen did for his famous wonder strike against Argentina in the 1998 world cup. Bishop’s finish was just as clinical, only in this case it was a low shot inside Brill’s near post. 1-0.

On the touchline I went absolutely apoplectic. How many times this season have we suffered early-goal-syndrome now? This must have been something like the fourth game on the trot. I’m absolutely sick and tired of it. None of my players dared look at me as they trotted back to the centre circle for the re-start. What a completely soft beginning. Four minutes gone and we were already looking down the barrel of yet another poor result away from home.

There was no reaction from our players at all. In the 14th minute Bishop went on another mazy run. I think he attempted to repeat what he’d done for the goal, only this time he took the ball on too close to the byline. His low pull-back was deflected behind for a corner, which Gnakpa managed to head away. In the 17th minute, Bishop was once again in the thick of the action, touching a free kick off to Ahmed so the midfielder could have a long range pop at goal. The strike though was not very well executed and went high and wide.

Despite being in the driver’s seat, Bury pulled back after this and showed some of the negativity they’d showed at Kenilworth Road. This at least allowed us to stay in the game even if we weren’t showing anything as an attacking unit. We finally troubled the shot column as late as the 37th minute, Nicholls squaring one for Keane thirty yards out who skied it over the bar. I dread to think how many times Keane has hit a long range shot high, wide, or both this season (over 100 times?). He’s certainly not scored one that I can think of; all his goals are from close range. Anyway, bar an Eagle corner a few minutes later, that was all the action concluded for the first half.

I told my squadron I wanted to see more in the second half, only I failed to specify what of. Bury’s manager had evidently encouraged his team to go for the second goal and for a while anyway that’s what they did. So what I inadvertantly began to see my team show ‘more of’ was last gasp defending. First the speedy striker Rouse burst through from the left touchline, cut infield, and powered a low shot at goal which was deflected wide for a corner. Then Ahmed finally got one of his long distance scorchers on target, and once Brill had made the save by palming it down into the ground, Gnakpa had to hack the ball away desperately.

It seemed obvious to me it was time to make my substitutions. I brought O’Connor on for McVeigh and Talbot on for Morgan. This at least had some effect . In the 64th minute Keane again fired wide from outside the box, only this time he was closer in after some good build-up play. Then in the 68th minute Keane (did anybody else but him fancy shooting today?) thumped a free kick in the direction of the wall only to see it deflect up in the air and behind for a corner. The floated delivery which followed evaded everybody’s heads and went out for a throw-in on the far side.

As the ‘Going down’ taunts began to get progressivly louder and more regular, I shouted wildly in the direction of Nicholls to get everyone playing further upfield. We hadn’t created what I would call a decent chance in the match yet, and at the moment we were going to be relegated on a whimper. In desperation, I took Eagle off for Owusu and whispered to Brian next to me that this would probably be my final tactical change whilst we were still a League 2 club. His reponse was to tell me we would technically remain a league 2 club until June when the new fixtures come out. Load of rubbish if you ask me.

Anyway, as we surged further forward in the final fifteen minutes, the pace of Rouse became too much for us, even after Bishop went off. Rouse burst through twice in the space of five minutes. First he raced past a leggy Ian Roper to go in on Brill from an angle, only to then blast the ball over the bar in a miss Dean Morgan would have been proud of. Then he went clean through from a more central position only to tamely hit one straight at the keeper (it didn’t even need palming away). As soon as the injury time board went up I knew we were done for. There was no way we’d score two goals in injury time. In fact, we couldn’t even get one.

FINAL SCORE (Att – 2790)

Bury 1 (Bishop 4)

Luton Town 0

(Table after 42/46 games. We have 10 wins, 19 draws, 13 defeats)

Chesterfield (45)

Notts County (45)

Chester City (36)

Bournemouth (33)

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

Macclesfield (30)

Luton Town (19)

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

13/04/09 - Relegation confirmed

Today’s press conference was a biggie. It was effectively my ‘post-relegation press conference’, and I was willing to bet Andy Branston and company had been looking forward to it all season. Just as I’d imagined, all the gang were present when I turned up with Brian by my side ; Branston, Thornton, Pantil, Tulip, Scowcroft – they were all there, most of them with smiles on their faces and brand new pencils in their hands just for the occasion.

I’d decided to wear a Luton Town shirt today, and a Luton scarf around my shoulder. I wanted to show the world I was fully committed to Luton and was even beginning to feel a few drops of Luton blood circulating around my heart. I wanted to show the press and the fans that I was as deeply saddened by their club dropping out of the league as they were, and that I would stop at nothing (if I was given the chance) to get them back up. In a brave show of defiance, I even pointed to Branston for the first question without even waiting for him to stand up.

“James” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Ignoring today’s relegation for just now, what’s with the Luton shirt and scarf?”

Excellent. He’d played right into my trap. Now I could begin proceedings by saying what I wanted to say without making it look too forced.

“Well, I wanted to wear my club shirt and scarf for this press conference just to show everyone how committed to the club I am and how determined I am to get this club back where they belong – up in the football league”.

“You’re committed to the club?” Andy asked. “Why? Who is it exactly do you think’s gonna be after you this summer – Real Madrid? Liverpool? Come on James, don’t hold out on us!”

A few chuckles around the room greeted this. I coughed nervously and tried to regain my composure.

“If you must know, I have had one or two tentative approaches recently from other clubs who are interested in securing my services. No they’re not Real Madrid or Liverpool, but they are clubs never the less”.

I was completely lying – I hadn’t been approached by anyone. Andy wasn’t to know that though.

“Which clubs?” he asked. “The Hatters Arms pub team? Luton Ladies?”

More chuckles. Andy was on a roll. Thankfully however, he sat down after this latest put-down, leaving the way clear for Jonathan Pantsil to enter the ring.

“James, no doubt there will be an exodus of players this summer. Who do you envisage both staying and leaving?”

“You know I can’t answer that yet, Jonathan. We have months of planning ahead. Nothing can be decided this week. As soon as you know though, I’ll know”.

Brad ignored my slip of the tongue and sat down again. Next up was Brad Scowcroft from The Supporters Trust.

“James, throughout the course of this season, a number of supporters on the Hatters Online forums have been playing as Luton on the latest version of the Football Manager P.C game. A recent poll showed that 92.5% of people who undertook this challenge managed to keep us in the football league, even despite the points penalty. Do you think this proves you’re incompetent by comparison?”

“Absolutely not. Real life is very different to a computer game. Any anyway, I’m the dog’s bollocks at Football Manager. I once took Aston Villa to a top ten finish in my very first season on the game”.

“Top ten? That’s....hardcore. Good stuff”.

Brad sat down and paved the way for Bill Tulip.

“James, that Luton shirt looks very tight on you. Are you sure it’s even yours?”

Cue sniggering and pointing around the room.

“Of course it’s mine” I replied, using my spare hand under the table to stretch it down over my belt. “It’s got pride of place in my wardrobe this shirt. I’d die for this shirt. If you cut me, I’d probably bleed white blood like that android guy on Aliens”.

“It’s got mud on it near the club crest” Bill observed. “And It just so happens it was a very muddy pitch on Saturday too. Come on, which player’s shirt is it?”

“Errr, next question”.

Up popped Victoria Thornton again. Bill meanwhile sat down.

“James, is there any truth to the rumour that two office members have left this week?”

“Yes, but you’ll have to speak to a lady called Margaret Oakenbridge about that. She’s the club’s office manager”.

“I already did. She said she was busy and told me to ask you. She seemed to think that you're friends of both women involved and would therefore be in the know”.

“She did?”

“Yeah”.

I looked back in the direction of Bill and hurriedly began switching my eyes between him and the shirt I was wearing.

“Where did you say the mud was, near the crest?”

“Yes!” he confirmed irritably. “It’s right there!”

"Oh yeah, so it is. I swear on my life that Daz Ultra doesn't work pr...."

Just then Kevin Nicholls popped his head around the curtain at the back of the room.

“Sorry to interrupt boss, but Joe Dunbar wants to speak to you urgently. He’s got some news about one or two of the players who took knocks at the weekend”.

“Oh, right. Thanks Kevin. Sorry everyone, duty calls. See you all at the next press conference”

In a whirlwand of sudden camera flashes and yet more questions, I simultaneously stood up with Brian and left the room as quickly as I could.

“Does he really want to see me?” I asked Kevin out in the corridor.

“No, but Brian told me you usually hate the press conferences and to come and rescue you after a few minutes had elapsed”.

I glanced sideways at Brian, who shrugged as if to telepathically say ‘well, you can get away with it once’. Then I looked back at Kevin.

“Kevin, you’re a star! When the inevitable contract terminations and wage cuts start happening this summer, I’m going to let you know about yours before anybody else. I never forget a favour”.

“...Thanks..boss” he slowly replied, and with that he walked off.

Bloody press.

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[gavrenwick]

Shame on the relegation, but it was always going to be tough. Just wanted to say well done, Scott, on what is shaping up as a fine tale.

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks Gav, that's nice of you to say. If I knew the code for thumbs-up, I'd put it right here

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14/04/09 - Dead rising

Nicky called me up in the middle of Home and Away earlier and told me to get my butt around to her house as soon as possible i.e. without even waiting for the end of the show. She wouldn’t say what for, only that what I would experience when I arrived would be very exciting and not to be missed. Was I intrigued enough to accept? Yes. Did I think it would in any shape or fashion involve me, Sally, and Nicky in the same bed? No, but I could hope.

When I got there my sworded daydreams were put to the sword by the sight of Darren and Brenda in the living room. Sally wasn’t even around. In the adjoining room, which I knew from previous visits to be the dining room, I could see through the sliding panel doors a lighted lampshade on the dining room table. Behind the light, sitting in the shadows at the back, I could just about make out the figure of a middle aged woman.

“What’s going on?” I asked, not yet taking a seat.

“Nicky wants to hold a seance” Brenda said sullenly.

“You what?” I asked.

“Oh come on it will be fun!” Nicky said, clapping her hands and springing out of her seat. “After everything depressing that’s been happening recently, I thought we could do something fun to cheer us all up. So, I thought we could have a seance and try and contact that Tommy Wiggins boy”.

I glanced into the dining room again and then back at Nicky.

“You’ve already set this up haven’t you? Who’s that in there?”

“That’s Madam Calcutta. She’s a clairvoyant. Come on, I’ve paid good money for this”.

Like a bunny rabbit chasing a carrot, Nicky did an excited skip and hop into the next room. Brenda followed suit. Darren meanwhile held back for a moment, craning his head towards mine so he could quickly speak to me without the others hearing.

“She told me on the phone she had something exciting lined up” he said. “Something not to be missed. THIS is what it is though – a seance?”.

“I know. She snared me exactly the way, little terror she is”.

“Turn the living room and hall lights off” Nicky called back through to us.

“Will do”.

Moments later we were all sat around the table being introduced to the self-proclaimed ‘Madam Calcutta’. She didn’t look that disimilar from Oakenbridge actually. She was wrinkly, old, and wore lots and lots of jewellary, and there’s not much more else to say. I couldn’t even tell you her hair colour due to the red bandana she had on.

“Right then, my children” she began. “I must now ask for complete silence. We are entering a space and time where souls rule the roost, and spirits dance to their tune. We are entering a space and time where ghosts cleanse their misfortunes, and where poltergeists search for solace”

I looked at my watch. It was 7.06pm. If Madam Calcutta could wrap this rubbish up sometime in the next half an hour, I reckoned I might just get back for the second half of tonight’s Champion’s League.

“I am searching now, searching through the lens of the all-seeing eye to see what I can hear. I ask you all to join hands around the table”.

We all joined hands and I must admit I felt a tingle of electricity in holding hands with Nicky that I didn’t think had anything to do with the spirit world. Madam Calcutta meanwhile closed her eyes and gazed at the ceiling. Now that all the house lights were turned off, the only light was coming from the lampshade in the centre of this table. Proceedings suddenly felt rather eerie.

“I am hearing something!” Madam Calcutta announced, jolting slightly in her seat. “It is the voice of a boy! A young boy of about twelve! He is speaking to me from the park where he died. He says he died playing basketball”.

“Are you sure he didn’t say ‘football”? Darren asked, grinning through his teeth.

“Why yes!” Madam Calcutta corrected herself loudly. “Indeed it is football! He’s so upset about his death he’s slurring some of his words!”

Nicky and I giggled, but our guest of honour didn’t seem to notice; she was too busy engulfed in the spirit world around us. It was clear to everyone by now that Nicky had provided our guest with background knowledge on Tommy Wiggins before we’d arrived.

“His name is Timmy. No, Tommy. Yes, Tommy it is. He says he was once a proud fan of London FC. Nope, Luton FC! That’s it. He says was a fan of Luton FC. Ah yes, the all-seeing eye hears everything!”

Just then a loud voice rang out from somewhere in the direction of the living room.

“Nicky, have you seen my fags?”

Darren jumped out of his chair in the dark (“Ahhh jesus!”). Nicky and Brenda both screamed. Hands were suddenly parted all over the place. Then the dining room light came back on – It was Sally.

“Oh, sorry” she said, spotting her cigs on the mantelpiece and picking them up. “I didn’t think you would have started yet. I was upstairs listening to music on my Ipod. Anyway, I’m off out the front for a smoke. I’ll leave you to it”.

With that she turned the light off and wandered back out. Everybody at the table took a moment to get their breath back and then re-joined hands.

“She scared the life out of me!” Brenda remarked.

“Me too, and I knew she was here!” – Nicky

“Okay then, we will now return to the other world” said Madam Calcutta, once again closing her eyes and gazing up at the ceiling. “Clearly the intervention of this woman was a sign, a guiding star, a shining light. It's obvious to the all-seeing eye this woman was instructed sub-consciously to interrupt us!”

“What for?” Darren asked.

“To act as a conduit!" Madam Calcutta sighed, as if it was obvious. "This woman was obviously intended to be a conduit between our world and the world of Tommy Wiggins!”

“He’s told you his second name too now then?” I asked.

“Yes! He is now flooding my inner senses with an overload of information. This is unusual even for an angry spirit! Tommy, speak to us! Tell us what you want us to do! Give us another sign! Show us! Tell us! Guide us! Seek us! Speak, Tommy! Speak!”

Madam Calcutta’s fists were clenched tightly now, and she was almost shouting every word. A silence followed as we all listening intently. Then a voice rang out from somewhere in the living room again, and this time it didn’t belong to Sally.

“Here I am guys, back from the dead!”

Everybody panicked and some instances screamed. The overhead light came on again and there was Caroline Smith of all people stood in the doorway. This was one interruption too many for Madam Calcutta, who stood up and went looking for her coat to leave.

“Caroline!” Nicky called out meanwhile. “Good to see you! How did you get in?”

“The front door was ajar so I just came in”.

“Oh, Sally must have left it unlocked after she’d finished her cigarette. She always makes that mistake”.

“Yeah well anyway, what were you doing in here, having a séance?”

“Well we were” answered Brenda. “Not anymore though, by the looks of it”.

“Really? You were actually having a séance? No way!”

“Yes way”.

Over the course of the next ten minutes or so Madam Calcutta left in a huff (“The spirits are most unimpressed!”), where as everybody else settled themselves down in the living room for a cuppa and a chat. More importantly, it soon became apparent that Caroline had forgiven me for the way I’d acted on the day she’d been fired.

The long E-mail I’d sent her between now and then had clearly worked its intended magic. In it I’d claimed that one of the players had approached me back in February and confidentially asked me to write a Valentine’s card for them in my handwriting. I also claimed that this player had specifically made me promise not to reveal his identity if Caroline was to ever badger me about who he was. Remarkably Caroline believed this version of events, probably because Nicky was now dating a footballer and Caroline maybe wanted to think she was also desired by the same breed. Who knows? She believed me though. That’s the main thing.

Caroline also had some choice words to say about Oakenbridge and Alison, as you might expect. Thankfully however the evening ended on a fun note, as everyone laughed and joked about the séance and how funny/scary it had been. By the time I left at a quarter to ten I had completely forgotten about the Champion’s League coverage. That’s how I know I definitely had a good time. It was also good to see Caroline back among us and no longer hiding away at her flat feeling miserable.

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

15/04/09 - Whitby job offer

“Hello” I said, not recognising the caller I.D.

“Hi son, it’s your Dad”.

I should have known. He’d called me on an unknown I.D last time, and since then I still hadn’t got around to adding his name to the phonebook tool. It was past 8pm when he called this time - I’d just got done giving Darren some GTA4 tips over MSN Messenger.

“Hey dad, how are you doing?”

“Just fine, how are you?”

“I’m just fine too Dad”.

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re fine”.

“So am I”.

You just know things are slightly awkward between two people when the hello stage of a conversation seems to just drag and drag. It was his fault though. He still hadn't given me a satisfactory explanation for why he and my mum had broken up, and then there were those silly drunken texts and e-mails he occasionally sent me too.

“I’ll get right down to business. I was sorry to hear about your relegation. You know I wanted you to do well at Luton. We both did - me and your mum I mean. Anyway, it’s been a few months since we split up now and errrr well things aren’t getting any easier”.

“Just get to the point, dad”.

“I’m moving to Whitby. Do you remember the retirement home we were working on? Well I’m moving into it. I’m moving in a month’s time. I’ve already handed my notice in down at the depot. I’ve tried my best to settle in Otley but it’s just too close to your mam. I need some bigger distance, and I was going to move to the retirement home eventually anyway”.

“Not for another ten years you weren’t! What are you going to do for money?”

“Well that’s the lucky thing. I know someone starting up a new depot not too far from Whitby. It’s definitely commutable anyway. I can work there”.

“Well that’s good, I suppose. I’ll guess I’m come up and visit sometime”.

I was away from my laptop and in the kitchen by now. My phone conversations with my dad are nearly always boring, and I’ve long got used to multi-tasking between the handset and God knows whatever else I can get away with doing using just one hand (no jokes please!). Right this minute I was boiling the kettle and doing a quick bit of washing up.

“That would be nice if you did visit. Actually, I was thinking maybe you might want to come live here”.

“Dad, why would I want to live in Whitby?”

“Well, my mate who’s opening this new depot, he needs someone to be the firm’s representative on legal matters, and I immediately thought of you. I know you’re doing this football thing but it’s not exactly going well is it? You could come up here and get back to your other career if that one’s not working out. And Whitby isn’t just a retirement town you know! There’s a good nightlife here for young people – plenty of pubs and all sorts. I was speaking to....”

“Dad, just hold on there for one second. I know it’s not going well for me here but I’m not sacked yet and I still plan on seeing it through to the bitter end. Even if I did get sacked, it’s a long shot that I’d want to join you in Whitby afterwards. No offence, but it would be a bit of a kick in the teeth for my mum if I suddenly went to live with you the moment she was out of the way. From her point of view it’s probably bad enough you’ve commandeered the retirement home, without me moving into it too! I’m not saying I’d never join you in Whitby, I’m just saying that a lot of water would have to pass under the bridge first, and by that point your depot buddy will almost certainly have filled the position already”.

“Alright, son” my dad said solemnly at the other end. “I guess I understand”.

“Good. I’m glad we’re not going to have a falling out about it”.

“How’s Chantelle?”

“You what?”

“Chantelle. Remember? Last time we spoke you said you had a new girlfriend called Chantelle. How is she?”

“Errrr, yeah she’s good. She’s actually in the shower right now or I’d let you guys say hello on the phone to each other. Maybe next time, eh?”

“Yeah, okay son. You take care now, and don’t forget to visit when you get a chance!”

“Yeah I definitely will, and I’ll bring Chantelle with me”.

“You do that”.

We said our goodbyes and then hung up. I still had Darren waiting on MSN in the other room but first I was curious about something. I went into the living room and rummaged through one of the drawers by the side of the armchair. Inside was all sorts of junk ranging from gas bills to computer games to shin pads (if you can believe that). Also though, right down the near bottom, buried under a random ‘Luton v Brentford’ programme, was something else. It was the photocopied picture of Chantelle’s bum. I’d rescued it a while back from the pile of my stuff Oakenbridge had dumped next to the door of the communal offices.

“Yep” I smiled, hoping that my retaining of this didn’t qualify me as being an amateur pervert. “Still looks as good as ever. Thanks for not chucking it out, Margaret”.

Next time he calls though I really must come up with a break-up story. It's been so long since he last called, I can't even remember why I falsely said I was going out with anyone anyway (let alone Chantelle, who I hardly know).

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Next - Luton v Macclesfield

[ScottleeSV]

16/04/09, League Match 43

Luton Town v Macclesfield Town

Gk – Dean Brill

DL – Sol Davis

DR – Claude Gnakpa

DC – Ronny Johnson

DC – George Beavon

AMR – Paul McVeigh

AML – Robert Eagle

DMC – Kevin Nicholls

MC – Keith Keane

FC – Vincent Pericard

FC – Dean Morgan

For this first ‘official’ dead rubber between now and the end of the season (unless you’re a Macclesfield fan) I made one tactical change, Beavon for Roper. I thought the latter was very sluggish and out of sorts in our last game against Bury, and maybe young Beavon would have been the better guy to come in? We’ll see – today young George had his opportunity. Other than that we were unchanged. The reverse fixture was a dismal 0-0 draw at Moss Road, so both home and away fans would be looking for better entertainment today.

After all the early goals we’ve conceded recently, I was delighted to see the boot on the other foot today. As early as just the third minute Keane slipped the ball through to Pericard in a central position thirty yards out. The Frenchman blasted one which was saved, but the ball flew out to Eagle on the left hand side. Eagle ran in towards goal from an angle and thumped a low cross-shot into the far corner of the net. Sublime finish! – Eagle’s first goal of the season. 1-0.

Just as the Luton faithful were digesting the unlikeliest of beginnings, Macclesfield launched an attack of their own in the 5th minute. They did it with some patient interplay just inside our half. At the tail end of the move, Tolley played a low pass into Hadfield some twenty five yards out. He then slid the ball through to Green who looked as though he was in an offside position. Our backline put their arms in the air but the linesman kept his flag down. Brill advanced on Green but far too late; the striker slid a low shot under his body for the equalizer. 1-1.

This was already a far better game than the one at Moss Road. In the 7th minute Gnakpa passed the ball infield to Keane who played a beautiful one-touch ball over to Eagle in space on the left wing. Eagle charged in on goal in an attempt to repeat what he’d done earlier. This time though his thundering low shot went half a yard wide of the far post. Then in the 18th minute Brill launched a long ball downfield which Morgan managed to get his head on, flicking it through to Pericard. The striker took the ball under control well but fired wide when he really should have at least hit the target.

We were clearly on top in this game and I was very much enjoying it. So were the crowd. There was nothing to lose anymore so those who had turned up were simply enjoying the spectacle without feeling the need to stress themselves out over league points or survival permutations. All that was gone now. Of course it helped greatly that we were having the bulk of the attacks. In the 33rd minute Nicholls chipped a delightful free kick over the heads of the entire defence into Pericard’s path, who met the ball six yards out and seemed for all the world destined to score. Unfortunately though his low first time volley struck the base of the post and popped back out again with the keeper nowhere to be seen.

There was another great opening two minutes later. This time Sol Davis got in on the action, playing a lovely one-two with Pericard on the left wing. Davis then passed it to Keane who was in space and only twelve yards from the goal. The shot though was a poor one and went at least a yard wide. After 39 minutes it was McVeigh’s turn. Nicholls sprayed a lovely pass out to him on the right wing and he charged towards the penalty area from an angle, eventually electing to shoot rather than cross. He’s scored from this play before but not today – the shot went half a yard over the bar.

Morgan was feeling a niggle at half time so I took him off and replaced him with Talbot. The dressing room had a generally positive vibe, most people feeling we would go on and win the game. At the start of the second half Talbot’s fresh legs went on a jinking run at the heart of three Macclesfield defenders all clustered around him. It reminded me of that run Ronaldo did for Brazil against Turkey in the semi finals of the 2002 world cup, only Talbot’s finish was poorer. He dragged it wide of the far post. We got another injury in the 54th minute meanwhile, Nicholls limping off and having to be replaced by Owusu.

The captain had been having such an effective game up until his departure that we instantly missed him, and the visitors had their best spell of the match in the period which followed. They had two good chances and both of them were direct free kicks just outside the area. Morgan took the first from twenty yards out and fired it just to the left of Brill’s goal. Hadfield took the second one from slightly further out and only achieved exactly the same result.

We took control again after this and most of the play went back to being in the away team’s half. After 65 minutes Brill’s diagonal kick towards the opposition corner flag was chased down by Talbot, who wrapped his right foot around the ball and curled in a cross. The ball bounched off a defender’s leg and landed at the feet of Gnakpa just eight yards from goal. Alas, it was on his left foot and he skied the opportunity over the bar. Sensing they were outmanned today by a considerable distance, Macclesfield switched to 5.4.1 with twenty minutes left in an attempt to walk off with at least a point.

A quiet spell followed during which the only action was yet another injury. This time it was Beavon reaching down and clutching his leg, and I can only surmise that came about purely from a lack of first team action. On came Roper to gladly earn the chance to redeem himself for his poor performance at Bury. In the 78th minute, Eagle’s corner was met by the head of Ronny Johnson but his header went agonizingly wide of the far post. The defender hugging the post though would probably claim he’d had it covered.

After 84 minutes, Gnakpa curled a right footed ball into the penalty area where Eagle took it under control and sized up his options. He obviously considered himself at too tight an angle for the shot, so instead passed it low across the box hoping someone in the crowd of bodies could force it home. Owusu got on the end of it! Surely a goal but...no! The ball got sort of stuck under his feet and in the end his shot was so slow and mis-hit that the keeper had time to scramble across the line and save it. That was a good chance. It was also our last. The final irrelevent words went to Macclesfield, who had two pot-shots from long range in injury time which both went wide.

FINAL SCORE (Att – 4717)

Luton Town 1 (Eagle 3)

Macclesfield Town 1 (Green 5)

(League table after 43/46 games. We have 10 wins, 20 draws, 13 defeats)

Notts County (46)

Chesterfield (45)

Bournemouth (36)

Chester City (36)

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

Macclesfield (31)

Luton Town (20) R

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17/04/09 - Scout meeting

We might not have beaten Macclesfield but the manner of our play restored a huge amount of my enthusiasm for the job. The day after the game I invited our two club scouts, Rob Knowles and Michael Collins, up to my office for a chat about the future of the team. Brian also attended.

“Right then guys” I said, once Katrina had provided all the necessary extra chairs and then left again. “I know the season hasn’t finished yet but I want us to have some preliminary discussion today about the squad for next season. There’s going to be huge changes once we’re down in the Blue Square Premier. Get ready to start writing. Brian, you don’t need to do this if you don’t want to”.

I stood up and walked to the window, and behind me I could hear Rob and Michael fiddling about with their notepads and pencils. They were good scouts, I thought. They were always on time with their opposition reports, and they had at least a ‘satisfactory’ track record when it came to finding me loan players in times of crisis. Rob was thirty seven years old and Michael thirty eight. They were mature, knowledgable, and reliable. I had no intention of changing them this summer. The biggest test of their careers though was almost upon them, and the future of my employment at Luton FC depended on them rising to the challenge I was about to set them and delivering some solid results.

“Ready” said Michael.

“I’m ready too” said Rob.

“Okay then” I contined, turning around to face them. “Priority number one this summer is strikers. We’re going to be in the unusual position this summer of having absolutely no strikers from this term to carry forwards into the next term. I’d take Pericard down with us if I could but let’s assume for now that he won’t come back. Talbot is obviously off to Chester. Morgan is currently considering offers from several different clubs and let’s assume he’s also on his way”.

“Whose idea was it to let Morgan go?” Brian asked. “Yours or his?”

“His, but I was happy to oblige his request. He’s not been very good really, and he’s not very popular with the fans either”.

“I just thought it might be worth giving him a shot at the lower level if we’ve got nobody else”.

“I thought that too but let’s face it – he doesn’t want to be here anymore, he’s not popular, he’s hogging £2000 per week of the wage budget, and he’s not shown he can score goals regularly. I’ve decided to get rid and start from scratch. If his deals taking him elsewhere fall through then I will probably give him one last shot next term. If not, no big deal”.

“Okay, just checking” Brian replied.

“Right then” I said, turning my attention back to Michael and Rob. “The bottom line is, I want at least three new strikers. At least! Preferably I’d like you to get four, but if you can only get three, at least we’ll have the option of getting some occasional loans etcetera etcetera. We’ll also probably still have the two young lads Quinn and Sheridan down in the reserves next season in case of emergency. So, are we absolutely positively clear then on priority number one?”

“Yes boss”.

“Aye boss”.

I walked back to the window and observed Fred digging his pitchfork down into the grass. Then I twisted around again.

“Okay, priority number two is wingers. As far as the left wing goes I’d like to get Eagle on a permanent deal if we can get him. If we can’t, we need new blood. I do not want Owusu spending time out on that left side next season if we can help it. I want at least two new wingers, and preferably I want one of those players to be an out and out winger and the other to be a more defensively minded left sider. I’m speaking in ideals here but let’s see if we can do it”.

“Are you going to be handling the situation with Eagle, boss?”

“Yes Rob, I’ll sort that side of things out. You guys concentrate on finding new players. As soon as I know either way with both Pericard and Eagle, I’ll be in touch with you to update your mandates”.

“Okay”.

“As far as the right side goes, I’m happy to play McVeigh again next season but I’d like to sign better if we can. Even if we can’t find better, we still need a back-up for McVeigh anyway, someone who is a natural out there. I do not want to end up slotting O’Connor in there anymore as a makeshift; it simply doesn’t work”.

Nods of the head greeted me, and pencils began moving at lightning speed. I suddenly had a passing thought that I was quite helpless in my job right now. If Rob and Michael return to me with some excellent players over the summer then I could potentially live well and prosper. If they turn up a load of duffers, on the other hand, I could be out of a job nine or ten games into the new season.

I therefore consider it vital that I at least do some of my own player searching once I get back from my summer holiday. I don’t want to just rely on my scouts in case it proves too much for them, especially considering the amount of players we need to bring in. There's no reason why I can't personally ring around a few clubs and see who’s available on free transfers (there isn’t likely to be money to spend). With Rob and Michael out in the field, so to speak, and me here in the office making calls, we’re bound to find a few good players interested in coming here. The trick will be to work out who is worth bringing in and who isn’t. I may be faced with a few situations in June and July where I have to decide whether to sign a guy my scouts have found, or someone I've found. That will be an interesting conundrum.

“Priority number three is split between finding a new central defender and a new goalkeeper. Dean Brill wants to leave the club so we need to monitor that situation closely. Ronny Johnson meanwhile is being released, so the upshot there is that we’re going to need a new partner for George Pilkington in the centre of defence. I’m happy to retain Beavon as back-up. Roper though can leave when he wants”.

Brian made to say something but then didn’t. Rob and Michael meanwhile were almost getting hand cramps now trying to keep up with me.

“I think that will end it for today, fellows. We’re generally strong in midfield and in the full back positions, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t let me know of any possible signings worth looking at in those areas should they crop up. Remember also that both Sol Davis and Richie Byrne are currently on the transfer list by request. We may have a massive problem at left back if both of those two get a move. Right, off you go”.

Rob and Michael stood up and said their goodbyes, slipping their notepads into various pockets of their coats. Brian hung back for a moment to arrange a pint with me down The Hatters Arms later on, and then departed also.

‘New Luton’ probably isn’t going to be too far from the truth this summer’ I reflected, sitting back down in my seat.

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Coming next - dangerous liaisons.

[ScottleeSV]

18/04/09 - Lipstick traces

Things had changed slightly with Cassie over the previous few weeks. We used to meet up before away matches in random locations such as museums, and zoo’s, and parks, and God knows where else. We hadn’t had each other's numbers back then, so it had literally been a case of find the most popular tourist spot (if one even existed!) and hope the other person got the same idea. More often than not we’d find each other too, even in unlikely places such as Valence House in Dagenham. Then we’d finally swapped numbers before a match in Rotherham and the situation between us altered slightly.

It altered because we ditched the whole meeting up thing and just began having random conversations every now and again over text. In a way I was fine with this. Cassie was off-limits as anything more than a friend, and meeting up with her in person always carried the risk of things perhaps going a shade too far. Also, as much as those telepathically determined meeting places had carried a certain romantic flavour to them, they’d also been worrisome on the one or two times I hadn’t been able to make it. I hadn’t liked the idea of Cassie zooming from place to place trying to find me when there was absolutely no chance she would. It took my mind off my match preparation and that was no good at all.

Today we had organised our first ever meeting by text message, and that meeting was to take place in a pub called The Legends Bar in High Wycombe. I don’t know why I picked a pub of all places. One reason is that I couldn’t be bothered surfing the internet trying to find a place of any other interest. Secondly, I guess part of me just wanted to keep things simple now we had each other’s phone numbers. Running around from zoo to museum to theme park is the stuff of dating, and I’d firmly told myself over the past few weeks that Cassie WAS NOT for dating. She was a friend and a friend only, and friends don’t generally tour the orchards and the castle grounds gazing at landmarks. Friends tend to sit in a bar or a cafe and a have quick catch-up, and tell each other about how they’re hoping to take somebody else on a romantic visit to an orchard or a castle.

Nothing ever works out the way you plan it though does it? For all my good intentions, Cassie turned up dressed to the eyelids (it’s too painful to even describe), and from the very first minute in our little secluded booth near the back of the bar, I was on the back foot wondering if it might be prudent to start counting elephants. Yes, she’s that attractive. Aren’t they always when you can’t have them? Anyway, in a desperate attempt to stop myself gazing over her with more wanderlust than I cared emit, I began talking about the situation with Dave and the guys back at the office.

“It sounds to me like you should take this to my guardian rather than blackmail Dave. Dragomir would soon put things right”.

“And break too many bones whilst he’s at it, no offence. No, I’m going to sit on this a while longer”.

“That would be the easy option though, don’t you think?”

She had a vodka and lemonade where as I had half a coke. It was a match day after all. The pub wasn’t that busy but it looked like the kind of place which would probably light up the town centre on a weekend evening.

“Sometimes the easy option is the sensible one”.

“Yet in this case at the cost of your friend’s job?”

“I feel sorry for Caroline but it is what it is”.

“Why don’t you just tell my guardian? He’s not as bad as you make out you know. If what you say is true he won’t be mad at you anyway, just at Dave.

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it. In the meantime, if Caroline gets a new job, the decision is made for me anyway”.

I took a sip of my drink and fidgeted uncomfortably. I wasn’t sure why I should be uncomfortable though. I’m not afraid of Cassie, per se. So why was I uncomfortable? I wasn’t sure.

“We didn’t pick a very inventive meeting spot today, did we?” Cassie asked.

“It could be worse”.

“If we’re going to meet up in a pub we might as well meet up back in Luton sometime. Then you won’t have to rush around before a match. It would also mean you won’t have to check your watch all the time to make sure you’re not late getting to a game”.

“Meeting in Luton though would mean we’d run the risk of being spotted by someone who might get the wrong idea”.

It suddenly occurred to me why I was slightly uncomfortable; I was wondering how close by Towzer and Garry might me. They’d observed me and Cassie before but not when we’d been sat so close together in a cramped up booth at the back of a seedy pub. I realised two further things in the aftermath of this realisation, firstly that maybe us meeting in open spaces such as Valence Park and Chester Zoo hadn’t been as bad as I’d first thought. At least in those situations people could see from a distance that we weren’t doing anything untoward. Here I wasn’t so sure they would get that impression (if they happened to walk by the window or something).

Secondly, and this was an even bigger alarm bell on my senses, Cassie seemed to be sat a lot closer to me now she had been back at the start of the meeting.

“Where are Towzer and Garry?” I asked without further delay. “Are they right outside, or further away?”

Cassie paused before answering.

“I told them to hang back at the car. I didn’t want them coming anywhere near us today. I thought that....”.

Another pause, as this time she chose to demonstrate rather than tell. She moved in to kiss me and I let the moment play out without remonstration or objection. It was a kiss that didn’t belong in a pub like The Legends Bar. It belonged somewhere like..well...Valence Park actually. Not that I’m complaining.

I don’t know how much time passed afterwards before I finally stood up and lied that it was time for me to depart for the match. Two minutes? Five? Ten? I’m not sure. We kissed a hell of a lot in that period though, with only the briefest of pauses in-between each time. I didn’t even notice the barmaid collect our glasses halfway through. As dear old Madam Calcutta might have phrased it, I was simply lost in time and space.

“You look worried” Cassie said, observing me glance left and right out the window as I zipped up my coat to depart.

“Just being cautious” I said.

“This is the last time I’m going to meet you for a while outside Luton. If you want to see me again, you’re going to have to be braver. You’re worried over nothing when it comes to my guardian. Trust me, I know him better than you”.

She stood up and put her own coat on. I wasn’t about to hang around and discuss the matter any further with her though. I had a match to focus on. It was time to come back down to planet earth.

“We’ll discuss it over the phone” I replied. “That’s a promise. For now though I’ve got to get going. On the off chance those two goons are hovering close by, you leave a few minutes after me. Please Cassie”.

“Okay”.

I gave her one last peck, smiled, and then left.

There was no sign of dumb and dumber out on the high street. That was a good start. I wasn’t thrilled by the prospect of my next conversation with Brian though!

'It’s okay', I told myself. ‘it’s all under control. You kissed her but nobody found out. The trick now is to not do it again. Easy

Sadly, I wasn’t convinced by own words. Not by a long shot.

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18/04/09, League Match 44

Wycombe Wanderers v Luton Town

GK – Dean Brill

DL – Sol Davis

DR – Claude Gnakpa

DC – Ian Roper

DC – Ronny Johnson

MC – Keith Keane

MC – Richard Owusu

AMC – Gareth O’Connor

FC – Vincent Pericard

FC – Drew Talbot

FC – Dean Morgan

A bit of background information regarding this fixture; we were originally scheduled to meet Macclesfield on Saturday April 11th. That match was postponed due to a waterlogged pitch though and rearranged for Thursday April 16th, two days before our match away to Wycombe. Why it wasn’t scheduled for the Wednesday I do not know. What I do know is, by the time we arrived in Wycombe half the team was either carrying an injury or too unfit to start. I was even forced to change the formation because I didn’t have enough midfielders!

Nicholls was injured so he couldn’t play. In his place I put in Drew Talbot up front, thus creating the 4.3.3 formation. I couldn’t play wingers with a shape like this so out came Eagle and McVeigh and in went Owusu and O’Connor. My two dropped wingers weren’t in the best of physical condition anyway. I’ve discovered throughout this season that when your team is struggling to stay fit, it’s often the wingers who suffer before anybody else (It’s all the running they do!). Incidentally I also reinstated Ian Roper for the tired George Beavon. We’d beaten Wycombe 1-0 at Kenilworth Road earlier in the season so no doubt they would be hoping for revenge.

Wycombe came out of the blocks with a 4.1.2.2.1 formation, and they almost caught us cold as early as the 4th minute. By rights this should have been our ‘early goal against us away from home’ moment, only today it didn’t go in. It was a great chance though. Because we were taking time to adjust to playing with no wingers, Garry had acres of space down the left wing to get his cross in. The ball was headed up the in the air by a panicking Roper and the ball landed at the feet of striker Harrold just seven yards from goal. His shot though was woeful – it went wide.

The game settled down after that, and the home side’s attacking intent was further stunted when Masinho hobbled off injured in the 11th minute. I reckoned this was God’s way of trying to level things up for us. After all, Wycombe hadn’t been made to play two days earlier like we had. Anyway, the next attack came as far down the line as the 20th minute. Lindegard dribbled down the right and passed the ball infield to Phillips. He in turn laid it off to Williamson, who took one touch to control the ball and then launched into one from twenty five yards. The ball curled safely wide for a goal kick.

We were further pegged back after 23 minutes. This time Wycombe went back down our left side, Garry sprinting towards the byline with a distinct air of self-belief. His cross was poor though, failing to clear the first man. Davis failed to control the ball properly however and became engulfed in an unnecessary struggle for possession with an oncoming Wycombe attacker. In the confusion, Garry raced in on their blind side and took a quick-fire shot from the unlikeliest of angles. He hit it well too, the ball smacking off the left hand post and bouncing back towards the touchline for a throw-in. Brill would have been beaten all ends up.

This seemed to have the opposite effect of encouraging Wycombe. In fact, this second big let-off of the match so far seemed to encourage us far more than it did them, almost as if my team started to believe it might just be their day. A lull in play followed, but when the next attack materialized it was up the other end. O’Connor drifted out to the right and whipped in a crossed ball towards the head of Pericard. The Frenchman isn’t bad in the air but he had no fewer than four defenders around him when he went to attack it on this occasion. The fact he managed to win this aerial duel at all speaks volumes for him. Alas, he wasn’t able to get enough meat on his glancing header and the ball went wide of the far post.

In the 43rd minute Talbot slipped the ball into Pericard’s path in a much more promising position. My star striker was clean through here but the finish let him down, and he spooned it over the advancing goalkeeper and over the bar. Half time duly arrived and I was quite happy considering how rag-bag our line-up was. We’d also finished the half the stronger, which was encouraging. I wouldn’t do this often but I told the players to just relax during the second half and enjoy the game. It’s not as if we’ve got anything to play for, and it’s not as if I can ‘expect’ a result from them when we’re playing such an unfamiliar formation and lacking key personnel in the bargain.

It took a while for the second half to get going, as both teams wrestled for the psychological edge in midfield. Remarkably though it was us who appeared to win it. In the 52nd minute, O’Connor ran with the ball towards the halfway line and eventually passed it forwards to Pericard. The striker laid the ball off again for O’Connor who intelligently played it first time through the heart of the backline to send Talbot away. He was clean through here with quite a bit to spare, and he didn’t disappoint. The finish was low and true and across the goalkeeper into the net. Goaal! 1-0.

Before getting carried away with matters, I took Keane off and sent defender George Beavon on. Keane was far too knackered to continue. I didn’t have any midfielders on the bench though so Ronny Johnson took Keane’s place in the centre of midfield where as Beavon replaced Johnson in defence. Ronny is also an accomplished defensive midfielder among his many other talents (he’s also a keen Darts player, didn’t you know? No you didn’t), so it wasn’t the world’s worst re-shuffle.

The expected onslaught from Wycombe took a backseat to our hunger for the second decisive goal. After 61 minutes we produced a lovely attacking move whereby Owusu passed it out to Davis, then Davis passed it infield to Johnson, and then Johnson slid it through to Pericard. My striker was technically clean through but had too many defenders closing in on him before he could get comfortable on the ball. As a result, the eventual shot was scuffed wide.

Time ticked on and still the home side didn’t threaten us. At the other end though, we were definitely threatening. We just couldn’t kill them off. Davis struck a thirty yard shot narrowly over in the 79th minute, and then a minute later we had a great chance. Owusu played a one-two with Johnson just inside the area before firing a right footed shot over the bar. In the 82nd minute, Pericard was played through by Talbot and once again the Wycombe goalkeeper was facing a one-on-one situation. Pericard’s shot was on target but too much down the throat of the man he was trying to beat, who kicked it away instinctively with his legs.

Wycombe’s boss switched to 4.2.4 for the final five minutes, and not wanting to miss a trick I made the appropriate substitutions to go 4.4.2 for the first time today. Eagle and McVeigh both came on but with orders to be defensive rather than adventurous. At first the home side still didn’t trouble us, but in the first minute of injury time Harrold beat the offside trap from a long ball. He went too wide to be a direct threat on Brill’s goal, but his chipped cross went right across the goalmouth and Gnakpa had to scramble it behind for a corner.

With even the goalkeeper coming forward for this, the crowd noise rose to a crescendo. In came the cross and the ball ricocheted down to the feet of Harrold, who struck the ball hard in the middle of a crowded box. Miraculously it went straight at Brill. The goalkeeper didn’t know anything about it but it bounced off his chest and back into play. With bodies scrambling all over the place like a scene from Dunkirk, Wycombe defender Williamson got his foot on the ball and hit it. This time the ball hit the post. Again it bounced agonizingly back into the sea of bodies. This time though Johnson of all people hacked it away. It was to be Wycombe’s first and last chance of the second half. Unbelievable climax! But we held on! Get in.

FINAL SCORE (Att – 3518)

Wycombe Wanderers 0

Luton Town 1 (Talbot 52)

(League table with 44/46 games gone. We have 11 wins, 20 draws, 13 defeats)

Notts County (47)

Chesterfield (45)

Bournemouth (37)

Chester City (37)

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

Macclesfield (31)

Luton Town (23) R

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[ScottleeSV]

22/04/09 - Stranger in town

It was drizzling slightly as I rode my horse through the centre of town. I was a bit tired from my journey but it was nothing a stiff drink wouldn’t fix. The sun was just starting to set in the east and there wasn’t another soul on the street. I had a feeling I’d been through this particular town before but I couldn’t quite remember. I knew where the saloon was though, that was the main thing right now. Maybe I had been before then?

I slowed by steed to a halt by the side of the street and dismounted. She was a beautiful horse, black all over with one patch of white near the underside of her belly. Her name was Bambi. I tied her to the nearest wooden post and gave her a quick pat on the side of her head to let her know everything was okay. Then I moved towards the saloon doors. There was a lot of noise coming from within; the place sounded lively.

Pushing the saloon doors wide open, I stepped through the entrance and surveyed the scene. There were at least thirty or forty people in here, and most of the tables were taken. Music was blaring away from somewhere and there was hustle and bustle all over the place. Men were playing cards, men were drinking, men were talking, and women were chatting on the stairs. There was what looked like a waitress running from one table to the next trying her best to carry four beer tankards at once. A barman was rushing around behind the bar, and a second waitress was also behind the bar. Busy times.

I recognised the second waitress (the one behind the bar). She had gorgeous long dark brown hair and one of the cheekiest, sexiest grins I think I'd ever seen. I ignored some of the routine glances coming my way from some of the locals and walked over to her now. I wanted a drink anyway.

“Hey” I said, getting the woman’s attention. “Nicky, right?”

“James! Good to see you! I was wondering when you’d come back again. What will it be?”

“Whisky”.

“Coming right up!”

Despite this pledge, Nicky didn’t move. I looked to my right though and suddenly saw a small shot glass with whisky in it sliding its way down the bar in my direction. I stopped it with my hand and looked back in the direction it had come from; there didn’t appear to be anybody at the end of the bar who could have thrown it. Never the less, I nodded at Nicky as if to say thanks and took a hasty sip.

“Busy night” I said, in reference to the rest of the bar.

“Always the same, James. Always the same. I expect you’ll be wanting a bed for the night?”

“Yeah, definitely”.

“Will you be wanting a whore with that too?”

“Come again?”

I felt as if I should have known what she was talking about, but I didn’t. It was strange but part of me seemed to be familiar with all this where as the other half didn’t have a clue what was going on. It felt natural to play along though. Nicky meanwhile pointed behind me and high up off the ground. I turned and spotted a balcony up the near the ceiling set against the far wall. Four or five young women in tight corsets were leaning over the balcony looking down at all the men. Two more women were stood on the stairs which ran all the way around another wall before joining the balcony close to the corner of the room.

“A whore” Nicky repeated. “Not been much call for them lately. Times are hard. You might even find the prices have come down a bit since you were last here”.

“I’ll errr go and have a look” I said, picking up my whisky and moving away from the bar.

Ignoring some more glares, I headed for the stairs and began to scale them. I walked up past the two women who were actually on the stairs and stepped onto the balcony, my spurs clunking their metallic little clinks with every step I took. The five women who had been previously looking down over the railings now turned to face me, and I stopped walking once I reached them. With the exception of one, they all seemed to be extremely attractive. Before I could say anything to anyone, an older woman appeared from the doorway of an adjoining room.

“Hello there, stranger. I’m Madam Oakenbridge. Are you interested in a room for the night? Obviously you are or you wouldn’t have come up here. Perhaps to make your stay more satisfying you would like some company too?”

With this she gestured with a bony arm towards the five women. I suspected I recognised some of them but I wasn’t sure.

“This is Erica” Oakenbridge said, pointing to a young blonde wearing a cowboy hat. “And this is Chantelle, and here we have Caroline, and this one is Sally, and finally we have Cassie”.

They all eyed me sullenly, wondering which one of them I would pick. I didn’t actually want a whore though, I’d just wanted to come up and take a look out of curiosity. I thought I recognised all of these women but still I couldn’t be sure. One of them I identified more than any other. It was the youngish one on the end, the brunette called Cassie. I sidled over to her now and stood in front of her.

“Ah yes” Oakenbridge said with a smile. “You like the look of Cassie? Well, young Cassie is one of our most desired young.....”

I held my hand up as if to say ‘hush’, and Oakenbridge complied.

“Do I know you?” I asked Cassie.

“It’ll cost you to find out” she replied. “Am I your final choice?”

“I don’t want anything like that. I only want a room, nothing more. I just thought that....”

What stopped me from finishing was the realization it had all gone quiet downstairs. I moved to Cassie’s right and peered behind her over the balcony. A stranger near the saloon doors, dressed in all black, seemed to be daring one of the men already inside the bar to get up and fight him. Or maybe he wanted a fight using pistols? I wasn’t sure.

“Ver is he?” said the man in black, a foreigner by the sounds of it.

“He’s not here!” came the reply, spoken by a shortish dark haired man of about forty. He had a receding hairline, and like most people in here, I had an inkling that I possibly knew him. His name was Brian, maybe.

The foreigner aggressively pulled his six shooter out, but somebody grabbed him from behind before he could shoot. Then two more men, presumably friends of the foreigner, made to intervene but got caught up in fights with some other guys before they could reach him. All hell was breaking loose now. People were punching each other all around the room. One guy used the chandelier above everybody’s heads to launch himself across about five tables, kicking two people in the head whilst he was at it. Elsewhere glasses were being thrown, tables were being knocked over, and women were screaming.

As the whores standing next to me all dived into the nearest room out of sight, I charged back down the stairs and made a play for the bar. I don’t know why but my first instinct here was to protect Nicky.

“Quick, come with me” I said, grabbing her arm and pulling her out from behind the bar.

She came without resisting. However, halfway to the saloon doors some guy with a white coat and a moustache tried to punch me. I just about dodged it, and my return punch was severe. The attacker went flying over a nearby table. Nicky meanwhile suddenly gasped and ducked as a beer tankard flew over her head and smacked against the chin of an old guy in a chequered shirt.

“Let’s go!” I shouted, dragging out of the doors.

Outside there were a handful of other people scuttling away, no doubt to get away from the fighting. Most people though had stayed behind to get involved. I shunted Nicky towards my horse and told her to get up on top of it.

“Why?” she asked, realising what I was doing.

“It’s not safe here” I replied, undoing the rope on the pole. “Bambi will get you clear of town. Ride to the West. I’ll catch up with you in a couple of days”.

“But how will you....”

She was cut off by the sound of me smacking Bambi’s backside with all my might. Bambi neighed and then shot off into the distance, Nicky flaying around on the back of her trying not to fall off.

“Ride like the wind, Nicky!” I called out. “Ride like the wind!”

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22/04/09 - In the doghouse

I was distressed when I woke up because my bedside clock told me it was almost twenty to one in the afternoon. I had a big appointment across town at 2pm! I immediately hopped out of bed and began to throw some clothes on. There was no time for a shower; I was just going to have to spray some anti-perspirent on for now and hope it would see me through. Once I was ready, I grabbed my car keys and house keys and rushed for the door. Thankfully the handwritten note containing the address of where I was going was still on the car dashboard where I'd left it. I think I would have gone stir crazy if I’d had to search the house looking for that right now.

I was probably going to buy a dog today. That was where I was going, to a woman’s house to buy a dog. Ever since I’d met with Rory that time in front of Waterstones, I’d begun thinking time and time again that what I really needed in my life right now was one of those cute little King Charles Caveliers he’d pointed to through the window. Hell, I needed to find a woman too but a dog wasn’t bad for starters. On the subject of women though, that had been one hell of a crazy dream I’d just had before leaving the house. Where had I been sending Nicky to on that horse? I had no idea.

“Hello there, you must be James”

“And you must be Isabelle Cochrane”.

I was now stood at the front door of a terraced house in an area that Drogamir Dilic would probably not have considered good enough for his visiting daughter (if he still needed a place for her, which I doubted). Still, I was only here to pick up a dog and then leave.

My host showed me inside the house and beckoned me into the living room. I took the seat near the main television because it was the only one not currently occupied by a doe-eyed puppy. Why incidentally does every home residence except mine have at least one seat in the living room which you can’t see the television from? Usually it’s a rogue armchair, but sometimes it’s even a two or three piece settee. Why on earth people can’t organise their living rooms better really grates me sometimes.

Isabelle was a fortyish woman, not very good looking, who seemed to me like one of those dog lovers for whom the hobby has completely taken over her life. There were at least five small dogs here in the living room with us, and judging by the yaps I could hear from elsewhere in the house, I could tell there were more of the little critters running around too. I hoped she wasn’t in the market for a boyfriend because you have to be insanely beautiful to get away with having more than ten dogs living in your house, and Isabelle isn’t insanely beautiful. Kelly Brook, for instance – she could have ten dogs and I’d probably still go for her. Isabelle on the other hand, not so much.

“Now then” she said, moving a small sleeping dog and sitting down in the armchair opposite me. “It’s a King Charles Cavelier you want, isn’t it?”.

“That’s right”.

“Preferably under three years old?”

“Yes indeedy”.

“Good. I’ve got just the dog. That will be £575, please. I accept cheque or cash. Unfortunately, if you’re paying by cheque, I must insist you return next week to collect the dog once the cheque has cleared”.

“I was intended on paying by cheque, and yes next week is fine for collection”.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a chequebook. Then I began to write one out under Isabelle’s watchful eye (not to mention the watchful eyes of those five mutts I was talking about). Once I was done I passed her the cheque and asked if I could see the dog she was intending to sell me. I didn’t have any qualms about paying before seeing the merchandise – I could always cancel the cheque if she tried to fob me off with something horrible looking with three eyes and two tails.

“Won’t be a moment” she said, disappearing from the room.

Five minutes later she returned with a gorgeous little red dog cradled in her arms. She came over to where I was sitting and allowed the dog enough breathing room to be able to leave her for me.

“Aww” I said, holding the dog like a baby and not quite knowing what to say. “She’s beautiful”.

“She’s just over a year old” Isabelle replied. “She’s fully trained, and very easy to handle. Do you want to know what her name is, or would you like to give her your own name?”

I stroked the top of the dog’s head and thought about this for a moment. I hadn’t yet considered the name. Strangely though, it didn’t take me long to pluck one out of the air.

“I’m going to call her Bambi” I said.

“Good choice” said Isabelle. “Okay, now that you’ve met....Bambi, I must now ask you a few questions about your life. It’s just to make sure that Bambi will be going to a home where I know she’s going to be safe and looked after. You seem like a pleasant enough young man though. I’m sure I won’t change my mind about the sale once the questions have all been asked and answered”.

“Okay then” I said, lowering Bambi onto the floor and thinking she looked a little bit like the smaller dog Brian owned.

Isabelle’s questions were thorough. I didn’t mind though. I understood her passion and love for the dogs she bred, and I was perfectly happy to indulge all of her queries. When I got home later on I was in the best mood I could remember being in for a long time. I didn’t have my new dog yet but it was only a week or so away. I poured myself a glass of orange and sat down in my favourite chair near the fire.

‘now then, let’s see if I can figure out what the hell was going on in that dream last night’

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[bambi holt]

A Great story just keeps going, superb!

And i love the name of your dog!!!!!!

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks Bambi! I'd love to say the dog was named after one of this story's most loyal followers. Alas, Bambi just happens to be the name my g/f wants to call our next dog in real life

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25/04/09, League Match 45

Luton Town v Exeter City

GK – Dean Brill

DL – Richie Byrne

DR – Claude Gnakpa

DC – Ronny Johnson

DC – George Beavon

AMR – Paul McVeigh

AML – Robert Eagle

MC – Keith Keane

MC – Richard Owusu

FC – Vincent Pericard

FC – Drew Talbot

My success with the 4.3.3 formation away to Wycombe has encouraged me to try it again when we play our final game of the season away to Barnet. That’s for another day though. Today I went back to the tried and trusted 4.4.2 at Kenilworth Road which has seen us lose just two games at home all season. In came Eagle, McVeigh, Beavon, and Byrne (who I fancied taking a first ever look at today since signing him yonks ago). Exeter lined up the same way, and as they were 13th in the table going into the game, this was about as dead a dead rubber as you’re ever likely to find. Our previous meeting on Boxing Day ended in a 1-3 loss, Gareth O’Connor’s wonder goal the only bright spark.

With it being the final home game of the season, I told the players to go put on a show. As early as the fifth minute, Pericard got the ball in the final third and rode the challenges of about three different opposing players. He then slid a reverse ball into Keane on the edge of the area. My midfielder’s shot wasn’t a bad one but it fizzed just wide of the far post.

“I bet he hits the target a lot more with Nicky” Brian said next to me with a big grin on his face. I gave him a look back implying that I didn’t think he was being funny.

There wasn’t much else in the way of goalmouth action early on, but it was the sort of game where you just knew lots of goalmouth action was just around the corner, if that makes sense. Both teams were taking lots of risks and piling men forward. It was only a matter of time before chances began appearing at either end. I wouldn’t have been happy about this on a normal day. However given the circumstances I’ll forgive my eleven of the twenty two players for excessive risk-taking.

In the 23rd minute, Eagle slipped the ball into Owusu’s path from the left touchline. The youngster then unleashed an absolutely rocket which Exeter keeper Jordan struggled to tip over the bar (not Jordan the brainless Z-lister, by the way). Applause rang out around the ground for that effort. Two minutes later we attacked again. This time it began with a long kick out from Brill, who found Pericard deep in enemy territory. He passed it out wide to McVeigh who then played a one-two with Pericard to go charging off down the right wing. The cross was a teasing away-swinger which the keeper palmed out only as far as Owusu, who smacked a first time volley over the bar. More applause, but no goal.

Exeter finally woke up in the 28th minute, midfielder Dean Keates rattling our crossbar from thirty yards out after a pass from Tully. It was our side who broke the deadlock though, and wouldn’t you just know it, the assist came from debutant Richie Byrne. His delicious first time cross from the left landed plum on the head of Pericard who put it back across the goalkeeper and into the far corner. Goooal! 1-0. The Frenchman then lay down on the ground Ricky-George-style and embraced the acclaim for what could turn out to be his last goal for the club (unless he grabs a goal at Barnet next week).

I’ll admit one thing to our visitors from Devon though; they didn’t have any luck at all in the first half. After 43 minutes a corner from the left by Keates was met jointly by Pericard and Edwards. The ball then landed at the feet of striker Logan twelve yards out. His shot though hit the crossbar and bounced clear, the second time in the match Exeter have suffered that fate. There was just time for one more attack. McVeigh, playing his most effective game for quite some time, burst down the right and crossed the ball beautifully just in front of the crossbar, making Jordan backpedal and flap like a headless chicken (a bit like Jordan the z-lister might do if told to add one and one). It eventually evaded said opponent and landed at the feet of Eagle, who pulled it back into the six yard box. Talbot was there but poked it wide under pressure from a defender. The referee then called time on an exhilarating half of football.

We were infected by the fear factor in the second half. Our attacking play dried up and Exeter went about their search for an equaliser as if their life depended on it. Their substitute Forbes is blessed with tremendous pace and he in particular began to cause our backline all sorts of problems. In the 53rd minute he sprinted through on goal from as far back as the halfway line. Three defenders went chasing after him but they simply couldn’t keep up. It was like watching someone getting chased towards the touchdown zone in American Football. Anyway, Forbes eventually pulled the trigger and Brill parried it away with one hand.

He was at it again a minute later though. Again we couldn’t catch him but again Forbes missed, this time with a shot that was still rising about two minutes after it cleared Brill’s crossbar. I quickly rectified the problem of Forbes by hauling our defence back a few yards, but my communication didn’t get through until Exeter had taken yet another shot. This time it was that man Keates blasting an angled drive just wide from twenty yards.

With the hour mark approaching, Byrne impressed me again by playing a lovely one-two with Keane down the left touchline. My new man’s cross was blocked but the ball fell into the path of Eagle, who laid a lovely sideways pass into the feet of Owusu. The youngster took another pot-shot and it flew inches over the crossbar. We were back in the ascendancy now, and Exeter’s early second half pressure had suddenly subsided. With 67 minutes gone, a long ball from Byrne (him again!) bounced towards the edge of the Exeter penalty area and the keeper only just got there before Talbot.

Then in the 77th minute we created our best chance since the goal. Keane floated a free kick in from the left and Gnakpa headed it back across goal only to see the keeper tip it brilliantly over the bar for a corner. Exeter had long begun to look like a beaten side by this point so for the final ten minutes they switched to 4.2.4. It didn’t do much good though, and apart from one more mazy run by Forbes towards the corner flag in the dying seconds, they failed to conjure another chance. The game ended 1-0 to us and we had a second successive victory in the bag.

After the final whistle I told the players to do a lap of honour around the ground. This wasn’t so much a chance for the fans to applaud the players as it was for the players to applaud the fans. It’s been the season from hell for all Luton fans, but in their droves they’ve still kept coming back for more punishment every single week. They’re a great set of fans I’m very fond of them. There were over 5000 people here today for a game that meant nothing. If we can keep that level of support next season then we’ll be a very good asset for non-league football. I was pleased to see our players get some affection back from the crowd too. Good to see.

FINAL SCORE (Att - 5136)

Luton Town 1 (Pericard 32)

Exeter City 0

(Table with 45/46 games played. We have 12 wins, 20 draws, 13 defeats)

Notts County (47)

Chesterfield (45)

Bournemouth (41)

Chester City (37)

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

Macclesfield (34)

Luton Town (26) R

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26/04/09 - Gladiators ready

Bambi’s first ever walk down the local park was eventful to say the least. It was Sunday evening when I took her and I’d envisaged a lovely first evening together containing not only the walk but also a selection of gorgeous dog treats back at the flat. Sadly, things didn’t quite go to plan. The truth of the matter is that Bambi will probably forget today’s events in less than a week (such is a dog’s way). I though won’t forget them for as long as I live. I’m very good at collecting memories that are impossible to forget; it’s always been one of my chief skills in life.

Not long after we’d crossed the busy road which gets us to the park entrance, I took a call on my mobile. I didn’t recognise the number which at first made me think it might be my dad. In fact, it was that balloonhead Ridgway.

“James?”

“Yeah?”

“Just a quick word about the whole police presence thing at matches. I don’t know if you know but we’ve received a payment from your guy Mr Wheelie for extra manpower to be present at your next home game in the league”.

“Okay, so what’s the problem?”

“The problem is your next home game in the league isn’t for another three months”.

My dog suddenly stopped to do a dump. I stopped too and clamped the phone between shoulder and cheek, reaching into my pocket to pull out some poo bags.

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Nothing. Just be aware that playing non-league football next season isn’t going to stop me insisting that you continue to employ the services of more men. We still haven’t caught that ecstasy dealer, and until we do, your club will be expected to cough up in the surveillance stakes”

“Fine. Look, f_ck off will you Ridgway, I’m walking my dog”.

Such is my inability to multi-task, I’d just inadvertantly got some dog poo on my fingers. I was getting annoyed by this call.

“Okay, I’ll go. Just bear what I said in mind. And tell Wheelie that one match next season isn’t going to cut it. Unless the ecstasy seller gets caught, we’ll insist on extra police security for the entire twenty-odd whatever it is amount of ma.....”

I pulled the phone out from where it was wedged and pressed the red button to end the call. Screw him. I didn’t need this today. I didn’t even know why he was calling me in the first place. If Dave was orchestrating the payments between club and police force, why was he calling me and not Dave to discuss it? It didn’t make sense. The only explanation I could think of was that Alison had asked him to continue going through me in some half-baked attempt to try and make me feel important (her way of making it up to me without me knowing, if you will). If that was the case though, why was Ridgway so antagonistic with me?

There was always the chance of course I was simply looking for something which wasn’t there. Maybe Ridgway had called me because he had my number but not Dave’s? After all, he’d said he’d received 'payment' from Dave, not a phone-call. Dave could have received some snotty letter from the police and then forwarded some money in response without giving it a second thought (or a complimentary call to Ridgway to let him know).

I didn’t want to think about this anymore today. This evening was about me and Bambi, not football. As I’ve already hinted though, things didn’t quite work out that way. Once we were fifty yards or so further on, and now heading deep towards the centre of the park grounds, I stopped to tie my lace on a wooden bench. When I looked up I got a shock the likes of which Bambi probably felt vibrate all the way down the leash. Coming towards me across the nearest patch of grass, walking approximately ten yards apart from each other, were Towzer and Garry.

“Evening, Mr Manager” said Towzer.

“Good evening” I replied.

“It’s a shame you haven’t got a pitbull instead of that fluffy little thing” Garry said, pointing at Bambi. “If you had, you might actually stand a chance of avoiding what’s about to come next”.

“And what’s coming next exactly?”

“What’s coming next is that you’re going to escort us to our car” Towzer began, reclaiming the verbal baton from his partner. “Then we’re going to take you to Mr Dilic. He would very much like a word with you”.

“About what?”

“You’ll see when you get there”.

“I’m not going anywhere with you two”.

“If you don’t come with us voluntarily, we’ll just make you come with us. With the mood Mr Dilic is in, he won’t care whether you arrive clean or bruised”.

I didn’t like the sound of this. Obviously Dilic genuinely wanted to see me or Towzer and Garry wouldn’t have been wearing the smirks they were wearing. I couldn’t think that far ahead right now though. For now I had to focus soley on surviving the attentions of these two goons. I would think about Dilic later (if indeed Dilic needed thinking about at all). For now though, it was all about Towzer and Garry.

If they came for me, I knew I could beat them. At least, I thought I could beat them. You can never be completely sure of winning a fight against someone (in this case two people) you’ve never seen fight before. Even the scrawniest bag of bones imaginable can surprise you with some Bruce Lee style chop-suey. Until you see that individual fight, you just never know. Fighting is never an exact science, even if you’ve rarely ever lost a fight in your life like me.

“One moment” I said after a brief silence, taking a step back towards the bench.

Being careful to keep one eye on my aggressors, I used Bambi’s leash to tie her to the bench. She gave me a barely audible little whine and looked me directly in the eye.

“Don’t worry little one, I’ll be back”.

“No you won’t” Towzer said, and began to walk towards me with his eyes widening.

Garry also began to close in. I quickly unzipped my coat, tossed it behind me on the bench, and turned back around to face what was coming.

“Okie-dokie” I said, swinging for Towzer as hard as I could.

My punch caught most of his chin but not all of it, because Towzer attempted a dodging motion at the last second. What he did cop though was enough to spin his head around slightly and force him off-balance. Less than a second after my punch had landed, Garry landed one for the other team. The punch, which connected against the side of my cheek on my blind side, forced me to stagger backwards towards the bench again. I coughed some blood up on the wood and glanced at Bambi. I could see two of her now, and both of them were blurry. Not a good start.

[ScottleeSV]

26/04/09 - Carslberg don't do bad dog walks, but if they did...

Instinctively I turned around and rammed my head into Garry’s stomach, trying to drive him backwards. I largely succeeded in this, despite one or two desperate swipes from my opponent down onto my exposed shoulder area. Towzer was back on his feet now; I could sense him coming out the corner of my eye. Evidently not wanting to risk catching Garry with a punch, he wrestled me away from his friend and then tried to hit me. The punch connected but it wasn’t strong. I kept my feet and punched Towzer back, this time sending him sprawling onto the ground even quicker than the first time.

I was finding it difficult however to cope with both of them at the same time. No sooner had I biffed Towzer was Garry back on my case yet again. This time he smacked me twice in succession, once in the side of the head and again on my back as I recoiled sideways from the first effort. In retaliation I swung my arm around his neck and tried to get him in a headlock. He was strong though, much stronger than Towzer. For a few seconds we growled and struggled ferociously, as I tried to seal the ‘lock’ and he tried to avoid it. Eventually I gave up and pulled my arm out of the way. Garry slipped on the grass in surprise, and after twisting my body to the side of his, I executed my tried and tested chop to the back of the neck.

Garry stumbled onto his knees and keeled over, presumably now unconscious. Towzer was a few yards to his right, still alive but his nose dripping with blood. He looked as if he was struggling to get back on his feet. I walked over to him now, one hand clutching the back of my left shoulder blade area. I put one foot on Garry’s torso and used my free hand to pull his hair.

“Arggh! What are you.....”

“Why does Dilic want to see me?”

“F_ck you” he said, spitting blood at me.

I raised my fist to smack him one but out the corner of my eye I noticed Bambi was gone from the bench.

“Sweet dreams” I said, and went through with the punch. Towzer grunted and gargled for a moment, but eventually lay still.

The Bambi situation thankfully didn’t trouble me for long. I’d barely walked ten yards in a circle before I spotted her in the distance mulling around near a big bulky tree. I rushed over to her still feeling the pain from my shoulder blades. Her lead was still on, meaning that in all probability I had simply tied a poor knot.

“Hey you!” I said, catching up to her and giving her a big stroke. “Scared you off did I? Don’t worry, life with me won’t always be this dangerous”.

I kissed the top of her head and stood back up, intent on taking her home. I was grateful she had more of less run off in the direction my home actually was – it obviously meant less distance to get there. When you’re hurting like I was at this moment in time, you tend to celebrate little bonuses like this a lot more than you normally would.

As we walked towards the park gates, I twitched my head around (painfully) to see if Towzer and Garry were up on their feet yet. From this distance I could just about make out the white coated figure of Towzer beginning to sit up and check his nose for a possible breakage. Garry meanwhile still seemed to be out cold. The details didn’t matter, merely that it was obvious they were in no condition to still come after me before I could get home and lock the door.

A minute later we were crossing the main road which would take us into the final straight. Not long to go now. I wondered, as we walked past the flashing green man on the far side, if I had much in the way of medical stuff at home. I didn’t think I did. Not to worry; I’d see what was what when I got through the door. My left shoulder blade though was killing me, not to mention about four different places on and around my cheekbones.

There were a lot of vehicles parked up my street today, including a huge black van. Keeping Bambi on a short leash now, I dodged between the van and a small mini convertible and opened the gate to the flat where I live. Stood in front of the porch was a bald man in a black leather jacket. He didn’t look like he ‘belonged’.

“Hello?” I said, approaching him from behind.

The man turned around. At first he looked me up and down. Then he smiled. Maliciously.

Before I could react I felt a thud connect with the back of my head. I dropped Bambi’s lead and collapsed down onto the grass next to the path. My world suddenly felt swirly, and I thought I was going to drift off to sleep. I didn’t though, not straight away anyway. I couldn’t see out of my eyes but I was definitely still awake. I felt a pair of arms come under my armpits and begin to carry me forwards out through the gate again. My vision was blurry but I thought I could just about make out another man slide the door to the van open. He was bald too. Or maybe he had a crew cut? I couldn’t tell, not with my vision the way it was.

As my body landed on a mostly metallic surface in the back of the van, some foreign sounding voices said some things to each other and the van roared to life. A vibration kicked in beneath my cheekbone and I instinctively lifted my head up slightly to avoid it. Behind me I could feel someone snapping my arms together to put some handcuffs on me. Once he was done doing that I felt a hood come down over my face, obscuring my vision for good. I cried out slightly but that only succeeded in alerting my closest captor to the fact I was still awake. Something hard hit me through the hood and I don’t remember much after that.

Back in the wild west, I watched Nicky disappear into the distance and then turned to face the saloon doors again. The fight noises seemed to have died down now, and Fred Pilchard had appeared, leaning against the post I’d previously tied Bambi to.

“Tough break, kid” he smiled. “Tough break”.

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

[ScottleeSV]

26/04/09 - The Warehouse Part 1

I woke up to the sound (and feel) of a bucket of water being emptied over my head. I shuddered and coughed and slowly opened my eyes. Ignoring for a moment the various pains I could feel, most notably all over my face and head, I glanced around the room at everybody watching me. I say room but it was actually some kind of warehouse place. The floor was concrete and the ceiling high. There were stacks of boxes all over the place, a forklift truck over in one corner, and what looked like a temporary office cabin acting as a mini building within a building. If I finish by mentioning the huge metal shutters no doubt meant as a giant door for vehicles to come in and out of, you surely get the picture.

From left to right in front of me, in a wide ranging semi circle, were Towzer, Garry, Dave Wheelie, two baldies in leather jackets (one of them the guy I’d seen outside my flat), Brute, Dilic, and finally Doctor Jorkic. Quite frankly I don’t think I’d have bothered trying to run even if I hadn’t been strapped to a chair. Towzer and Garry were sporting big red bruises over their faces, and Towzer was even popping what looked like a headache pill out of a small prescription bottle. Doctor Jorkic meanwhile was the only one apart from me who was seated, only in his case he was sat comfortably at a table with his box of unsavoury implements plonked in front of him. I recognised it from the limo.

“Finally you vake” Dilic said, stepping forward a couple of yards. “Now the punishment can begin”.

“What punishment?” I asked groggily.

“Ze punishment for acting inappropriately with my step-daughter. You ver seen kissing her in zer pub. Do you deny this?”

“No” I replied. “It was a one-off though. Please let me out of here. I promise I’ll never do it again. Let this be a warning to me. Obviously I’ll never do it again after this”.

I wasn’t lying; If I got out of this alive there was no way I was going to ever risk kissing Cassie again. Brian was right. I should have stayed away.

“I know you’ll never do it again, because in an hour or two you vill be dead. You already had your warning in ze car, and you ignored it. I don’t give out third chances”.

A silence followed, as Dilic paced around on the same spot for a moment. I looked at Towzer and Garry. I thought they might be smirking and enjoying all this but they actually looked completely incredulous to my predicament (Maybe they’d been given a bollocking for screwing things up in the park?). Dave Wheelie meanwhile appeared bored and largely poker-faced.

“Yes you are quite ze little fighter” Dilic continued, noticing who I was looking at. “It’s a shame you’re not on ze payroll actually. It’s not as if ze football agrees with you”.

“Can I take it I’m sacked then?” I asked.

“No you’re not sacked. Dave here vill simply issue a statement next week to say zat you have gone missing”.

“Doesn’t sound very believable”.

“Oh but it vill be!” Dilic said, whipping his finger upwards like a lion tamer trying to do his job without a whip. “With one game left of ze season, you took an early holiday. You vent to say...Brazil. Who knows? Then you disappeared and never came back. Maybe you ver ze victim of highwaymen, or ze harbour pirates, or a simply ze local thug element, who knows? Ze press, if any of zem care, will find the story very believable, especially with your globetrotting history. Vat was your girl’s name again?”

I understood the question but didn’t answer. Dave though answered for me.

“Her name was Charlotte” he said.

“Ah yes, Charlotte. Dave here did his research. Charlotte – lovely name by ze way. Ver do you think she vent to, James? I know you don’t know, but if you had to guess, ver do you think she vent?”

I looked at my knees and remained passive. I would love to be poetic and claim the mention of Charlotte was more painful than even the most painful ache on my body right now, but it wasn’t. Had they possibly hit me again even after I’d fallen unconscious? I didn’t recall feeling this stiff and achy prior to having my lights turned out, that was for sure.

“He does not vish to answer, very vell. You are no fun, James. I guess it is time to leave you to your fate”.

One of the baldies produced a coat out of thin air and held the sleeves up for Dilic to slip his arms into. As he was doing this, I noticed Jorkic beginning to stir over at the table. The good doctor suddenly seemed to think it prudent to double-check he had all the right instruments with him for the task in hand.

“What’s going on?” I asked, squirming fruitlessly beneath the ropes which held me in place. “Is he going to kill me?”

“No, Mr Martin!” Dilic chuckled, as if my question was stupid. “First he’s going to torture you, and then he’s going to kill you”.

“Just because I kissed Cassie? Come on, you can’t be serious!”

“I take my step-fatherly duties very seriously, and to be fair, you ver warned. I have vitnesses”.

As Jorkic stood up and began to put some rubber gloves on, I noticed that Towzer and Garry looked absolutely appalled by what was now transpiring. I suddenly doubted they’d had any idea this was going to happen. They looked completely out of their comfort zone. The Serbian element meanwhile was already beginning to edge its way towards the door, Dilic included.

“Wait!” I shouted, as Jorkic picked up a scalpel at the table and began to examine it under the light. “You’ll never find a manager as good as me!”

Everybody in the warehouse suddenly started laughing. Even Towzer and Garry raised a smile. I’d only made that comment in blind panic though. I hadn’t actually meant it. What was I supposed to say though? I was staring down the barrel of a bloody scalpel.

“Nobody can say you are not a comedian” Dilic eventually replied. “Goodnight, Mr Martin”.

With that he turned his attention back to the door. Jorkic meanwhile began to approach me, a gleam in his eye and the scalpel firmly in his raised right hand. The horrified trio of Towzer, Garry, and Wheelie all turned away and followed Dilic, evidently deciding they didn’t want to stay and watch the show.

“Don’t you f_cking come near me” I said to Jorkic.

He ignored me and leaned in towards my face, seemingly trying to decide where he was going to start cutting. Behind him I could see people beginning to file their way out of the building one by one. Soon it would be just me and this butcher all by ourselves

“I’m warning you” I said, breathing hard. “You put that thing near me and I swear....”.

Here it came though. Jorkic leaned in to make his first incision, and the only thing I could think to do was to try and head-butt him. Miraculously it worked. Kind of. My forehead banged into the scalpel but the momentum carried my skull firmly into Jorkic’s skull. The doctor screamed and staggered backwards, instinctively removing his glasses and tossing them aside.

I hoped he might have got shards of glass in his eye. Alas, Jorkic merely wiped some blood away from his nose and mouth and then looked at me with disdain, both his eyes appearing to be working just fine still. He’d dropped the scalpel at the moment of contact, and now bent down to retrieve it. Instead of make a second attempt though he went back to his magic box and replaced the scalpel where it had come from. Then he brought something else out – a power drill.

“F_ck this s__t!” I said, again squirming beneath the ropes and again feeling helpless that I couldn’t remove them.

It’s fair to say I was staring into a fairly large abyss.

[dechardonay]

...what, no last-minute political wheeling-dealing with Dilic??? This can't be the end! No way!

...and where's Bambi??? /me worries

[ScottleeSV]

Hi Dechardoney. Fear not, strange things are afoot

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

26/04/09 - The Warehouse Part 2

I quickly made the assumption the drill was battery-operated. I couldn’t see any plugs or leads, and Jorkic was rummaging around in the box again. I could only presume that batteries were what he was looking for.

“Just wait!” I said firmly. “I know some things Dilic might be interested in. Go out and bring him back in”.

Jorkic glanced at me (blood still dripping from his face) but didn’t respond. I wondered at this moment if he even spoke any English. If he didn’t, I was probably f_cked. I should have made this play when Dilic was still in the room. It’s hard to think clearly though when you’re in a situation like this.

“There’s this guy, you see” I continued desperately. “He works for Luton and he’s trying to screw Dilic and the club over with every chance he gets. Only I know who that guy is. If you kill me tonight, you’ll never find out”.

I looked hopefully at Jorkic but he in turn looked away in the direction of the door. Dilic himself suddenly walked back in now, Brute in close attendance. Dilic was slow-clapping as he walked.

“Finally, Mr Martin! For a moment there I didn’t vink you ver going to say anything”.

“What do you mean?”

“You just offered to give up our secret traitor, no? In exchange for release?”

“Yeah but how....”

Dilic nodded at Brute and the big man took this as his cue to come and untie me. Jorkic meanwhile put the power drill away again and began to lock the box up. I didn’t understand this. It was all a bit too easy for my liking. What was going on?

“You didn’t really vink I vud cut a man up just for the sake of a kiss, did you?”

He was chuckling. Dilic was actually chuckling. Brute meanwhile finished untying me. I stood up slowly and began to stretch my aching wrists.

“Why did you make me think I was going to get cut up then?” I asked.

“That was ze punishment, to have ze fear of God put into you. I’m not a maniac though. Torture isn’t something I indulge in. Jorkic’s intention was only to put ze knife very close to your skin wizout cutting. As for ze traitor in our possession, I found out about zis last week. Cassie told me”.

“Did she tell you who it was?” I asked.

“Yes. I looked at your phone pictures while you ver asleep. Dave is indeed a Vatford fan, it vud seem. My men also took a look at ze manager shortlist copy you made - Zey entered your flat to put ze dog back, and after searching, zer was ze note in ze drawer. You didn't hide it very well”.

“If you’ve known about Dave for a whole week, why is he still walking around in your employ?”

“Like I just said, I didn’t have all ze evidence until zis evening after you ver captured. It seemed like zis plan vos perfect for teaching you a lesson at ze same time as confirming Dave’s betrayal. How you say? - Two birds with one rock?”

“I guess”.

“Come” said Dilic theatrically, doing that lion tamer thing with his finger again. “I vill show something”.

I followed him to the door and then through it. Outside there were three cars. Two of them were parked directly in front of the building one behind the other. The third, belonging to Towzer and Garry, was forty or fifty yards over to the left. The bruised pair were leaning against the vehicle having a smoke in much the same way as they had been back in Chester. They looked surprised to see me exit the warehouse in one piece though. I got the feeling they hadn’t been in on Jorkic’s plan to abort the torture at the last possible moment.

There was much more of interest in the other two cars. In the closest one to us I could see the other two bald henchmen sitting either side of Dave on the backseat. I had to recognise Dave by his suit and tie due to the black hood he had on over his head (I imagined there was a fair chance it was the same hood I’d worn in the van). From the arched manner of Dave’s arms, it also looked like he probably had handcuffs on behind his back.

“What are you going to do with him?” I asked.

“I don’t know yet. First he needs to be questioned. Zis could take a while, I imagine. In any case, you have no need to involve yourself. Just don’t expect to see him at the club again. I vill replace him shortly”.

As I was about to reply again, Brute and Jorkic exited the warehouse behind us. Brute had turned the lights off inside and was now locking the place up.

“Where’s the van I was brought in?”

“I don’t know. Zey probably swapped it halfway here in case your neighbours took ze plate”.

Dilic, Jorkic, and Brute began to walk in various directions towards the two cars. Brute got into the first car with Dave and the two thugs. Dilic and Jorkic meanwhile carried on towards the second car, which I could just about make out to be the same Mercedez Benz I’d seen in the town centre that one time. Way over to my left, Towzer and Garry lobbed their fags away and also opened their cars doors. Everybody was leaving, everybody except me.

“Come with us” Dilic said without turning around, as if guessing my thoughts. “We vill give you a lift home. It’s the least we can do after your....fright?”.

“Thanks” I said, watching him chuckle to himself. “That’s err mighty nice of you”.

I jogged over to the Mercedez and opened the door to the backseats (Jorkic had taken the driver’s side and Dilic the passenger side). I was expecting to have the back all to myself, but I was wrong. Already sitting in the back, quiet as a mouse, smiling as if about to go on another trip to the zoo, was Cassie.

“Howdy stranger” she said, crossing one leg over the other and blowing me a kiss. “Told you it would be best to just get it out in the open, didn’t I?”

I sat down next to her and put my seat-belt on.

“I don’t whether to kiss you or kill you” I replied.

“Kissing is a lot more fun” she said, taking hold of my hand.

“I tell you vot, James” Dilic called through to us, as Jorkic noisily swung the car around in the gravel. “Get us promoted back up next season and I vill consider letting you have my step-daughter”.

I quickly let go of her hand almost as fast as it had been taken hold of.

“I shall do my best, sir” I shouted back. “I shall do my best”.

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

Coming next - Barnet v Luton (final game of the league season)

[QweebStyle]

good stuff champ good to know bambi is fine.

[ScottleeSV]

Never mind Bambi the dog! What about me? I've just been through a trauma!

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02/05/09, League Match 46

Barnet v Luton Town

GK – Dean Brill

DL – Richie Byrne

DR – Claude Gnakpa

DC – Ronny Johnson

DC – George Beavon

AMR – Paul McVeigh

AML – Robert Eagle

MC – Keith Keane

MC – Richard Owusu

FC – Vincent Pericard

FC – Drew Talbot

I’d pledged to try 4.3.3 for this final away game of the season, but when it got down to it I simply couldn’t be bothered. My experience at the warehouse had left quite the lasting effect on me. By the time Dilic dropped me off at home the night it happened, the addrenelin I’d felt at being set free had subsided and all the bruises and pains had come back. It had taken days for most of them to go away. Mentally my head was in the clouds too – I needed a holiday – I didn’t need this one more match. Trying my best to remain normal around Brian and the players, I picked my default team (minus the injured Pilkington and Nicholls) and sent them out there to play.

We started the match solidly enough but then Barnet scored after nine minutes and things started to look as downhill as Underhill itself. It was a simple goal too; Bishop slid the ball into O’Flynn’s feet inside the penalty area. O’Flynn controlled it, turned, and slid a low shot past Brill. If this happens again on the first day of next season I’ll be lived. Today though I simply rubbed my head like a man nursing a bad hangover and went on a slow prowl of the touchline.

It’s amazing how far, by the way, you can wander into your opponent’s technical area when they’re over the moon from having recently scored. It always amuses me. On the other hand, If it’s Luton who score first, there might as well be an ED-209 blocking your path to the opposition dugout for all the chance you’ve got of getting anywhere near it.

We’d lost McVeigh to injury two minutes before the goal, O’Connor coming on to replace him. I doubt it effected the scoring of the goal though. It took us 23 minutes to get into the match, Talbot going on a lovely run right through the heart of the defence. Eventually he fired over with just the keeper to beat, yet not before selling one defender a beautiful dummy to go past him. It would have been a very special goal if he’d scored.

If we were gradually improving as the match went on, the notion was punctured just over a minute later. Patten’s deep and low left wing cross was touched towards goal by O’Flynn, who would have scored again but for a brilliant reaction save by Brill to parry it wide. From the resulting corner though, a floated ball to the front edge of the six yard box was met by an unmarked and very Latin sounding ‘De Magalhaes’. He headed it firmly inside the near post and Barnet had their second goal. 2-0.

Again we tried to come back but not with much conviction. Keane blasted one over from twenty yards after a short pass from Owusu, and a short while after that Pericard headed one over after a cross from Eagle. We hadn’t played too bad. However, the score at half time was 0-2 and that’s all that counts. In the dressing room I didn’t speak. I couldn’t be bothered. I let Brian have a go at the team-talk instead. He basically told them to play with pride and end the season on a high. Secretly, I doubted we would be doing that.

At the start of the second Barnet killed the game off with their third goal. A clever chipped pass found the dangerous Patten on the left of the penalty area. He crossed one into the danger zone where Leary was able to steer a low volley into the corner. It was a well worked goal. 3-0. It got worse in the 66th minute. This time the attack went down the right where Admoah and Carew played a one-two with each other before Admoah’s cross found the head of Leary. The resulting header was bullet-like and Brill had no chance. 4-0.

It’s not like I wasn’t trying, it was just one dead rubber too far. I’d substituted Talbot for Morgan and Eagle for Emmanual between the third and fourth goals (fat lot of good it did). Like I’ve already said though, apart from the goals we weren’t playing that badly. The final score did end up 4-0 to Barnet, but the final shot count total was only 8-7 to our hosts. It was just one of those days where nothing goes right. We had two chances for Keane and Morgan near the conclusion and both of those were spooned high and wide respectively.

After the match I made the players go over and applaud our travelling fans, both for today and also the rest of the season. The Barnet fans were surprisingly reluctant to wind us up in the face of either our impending relegation or indeed our 0-4 loss. They clapped both teams off politely and then made their way to the exits without fuss. Barnet were in mid-table before this match, and for a club of their small size trying to operate in the football league, I imagine that’s more than satisfactory for them.

“I just want to say thanks to you all” I said in the dressing room. “It’s been a tough season but we gave it a shot. We amassed 56 points and that’s not bad given all the injuries and psychological barriers we had to overcome. To those of you coming back next season, I hope you come back refreshed and ready for the challenge. As things stand at the moment, I will be continuing to lead the team when that challenge begins. If anything changes though, I will contact all of you immediately. Thanks again, guys. I know I’ll probably see most of you around the club over the next couple of days, but if this is the last chance I get to speak to you as a unit, I just want say thanks again and have a nice summer”.

To my surprise they all began clapping, Brian included. I think they like me, despite how rubbish I am at this malarkey. Anyway, so comes to the end a whole season of writing depressing match reports. I hope they’ll be better next term.

FINAL SCORE (Att – 2659)

Barnet 4 (O’Flynn 10, Magalhaes 26, Leary 46, 66)

Luton Town 0

(Final league table)

[font=Courier New]| Pos                                 | Inf   | Team         |       | Pld   | Won   | Drn   | Lst   | For   | Ag    | G.D.  | Pts   | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 1st                                 | C     | Shrewsbury   |       | 46    | 24    | 12    | 10    | 98    | 61    | +37   | 84    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 2nd                                 | P     | Bradford     |       | 46    | 22    | 14    | 10    | 79    | 56    | +23   | 80    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 3rd                                 | P     | Darlington   |       | 46    | 21    | 16    | 9     | 70    | 47    | +23   | 79    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 4th                                 | Pl    | Morecambe    |       | 46    | 23    | 8     | 15    | 88    | 66    | +22   | 77    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 5th                                 | Pl    | Rochdale     |       | 46    | 19    | 20    | 7     | 69    | 49    | +20   | 77    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 6th                                 | Pl    | Bury         |       | 46    | 19    | 15    | 12    | 64    | 43    | +21   | 72    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 7th                                 | Pl    | Brentford    |       | 46    | 20    | 12    | 14    | 66    | 64    | +2    | 72    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 8th                                 |       | Grimsby      |       | 46    | 18    | 12    | 16    | 55    | 50    | +5    | 66    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 9th                                 |       | Port Vale    |       | 46    | 16    | 17    | 13    | 61    | 46    | +15   | 65    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 10th                                |       | Gillingham   |       | 46    | 17    | 14    | 15    | 55    | 65    | -10   | 65    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 11th                                |       | Barnet       |       | 46    | 17    | 12    | 17    | 60    | 57    | +3    | 63    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 12th                                |       | Exeter       |       | 46    | 18    | 9     | 19    | 53    | 57    | -4    | 63    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 13th                                |       | Lincoln      |       | 46    | 14    | 16    | 16    | 69    | 64    | +5    | 58    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 14th                                |       | Aldershot    |       | 46    | 15    | 13    | 18    | 53    | 65    | -12   | 58    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 15th                                |       | Dag & Red    |       | 46    | 11    | 21    | 14    | 43    | 51    | -8    | 54    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 16th                                |       | Rotherham    |       | 46    | 18    | 16    | 12    | 56    | 48    | +8    | 53    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 17th                                |       | Wycombe      |       | 46    | 12    | 15    | 19    | 40    | 50    | -10   | 51    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 18th                                |       | Notts Co     |       | 46    | 14    | 8     | 24    | 51    | 85    | -34   | 50    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 19th                                |       | Accrington   |       | 46    | 11    | 16    | 19    | 68    | 78    | -10   | 49    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 20th                                |       | Chesterfield |       | 46    | 12    | 9     | 25    | 58    | 74    | -16   | 45    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 21st                                |       | Bournemouth  |       | 46    | 13    | 20    | 13    | 60    | 55    | +5    | 42    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 22nd                                |       | Chester      |       | 46    | 8     | 14    | 24    | 39    | 76    | -37   | 38    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 23rd                                | R     | Macclesfield |       | 46    | 7     | 13    | 26    | 43    | 83    | -40   | 34    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 24th                                | R     | Luton        |       | 46    | 12    | 20    | 14    | 42    | 50    | -8    | 26    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|[/font]

[font=Courier New]Note...[/font]

[font=Courier New]Luton had 30pts deducted prior to season[/font]
[font=Courier New]Bournemouth had 17pts deducted prior to season[/font]
[font=Courier New]Rotherham had 17pts deducted prior to season[/font]

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05/05/09 - Fun and laughter for a week or two

Bambi seemed to know what was going on. She was looking at me and whining. I leant down and gave her a little kiss on the nose.

“Don’t worry, munchkin. Aunty Nicky is going to take good care of you whilst I’m gone, and Aunty Sally too. Don’t annoy Aunty Sally, by the way! And don’t wind Bertie up too much! You’re very lucky to have two aunties. I only had one, and she was mean. She used to tease me with hob-nobs and never actually give me one. Anyway, enough about that”.

I picked my suitcase up by the side of the front door and set it down on its wheels. Call me girly but I really can’t be bothered actually carrying a suitcase. Wheels were invented for a reason. I opened the door now and dragged the suitcase out towards the top of the stairs. I blew Bambi a kiss and locked the door up behind me. Nicky was going to pick Bambi up in a couple of hours. That was fine. Bambi would be fine until then.

My mind flashed back to a half an hour earlier, when Cassie had called me on the phone. It turned out she’d had more to say than just goodbye.

-------

“Dragomir wants to offer you something” .

“What’s that?” I asked, my phone clamped between shoulder and cheekbone as I began to pack my suitcase.

“Whatever you want. He thinks he might have gone slightly too far in trying to teach you a lesson”.

“I do too, as it happens. I was knocked out cold and then made to think I was going be slashed to pieces with a power drill. Lesser men would have had a heart attack. What would Dilic have done then?”

“Well anyway, to compensate you he says you can have anything you want. Just name it and he’ll get it for you”.

“How about a million pounds”? I asked, folding a t-shirt neatly and placing it on top of some other t-shirts.

“He thought you might say that. If it’s money you want, he says you can have five grand”.

“Actually, it isn’t money I want. I want something else. Have you got a pen handy?”

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My suitcase made quite a lot of noise as I dragged it down the stairs. Throughout the ages though, suitcases and stairs have never really been the best of friends. Out in the porch I got my house keys out and placed them in the fruit basket. That’s where I’d told Nicky they would be and that’s where she’d find them. Once that was done I stepped out into the bright sunshine and began to walk up the street, my suitcase sliding along behind me on its small little wheels.

I did have a car but I wasn’t going to leave it parked at the airport for two weeks. The plan was to walk to a taxi despatch place I knew to be a mile or two away. From there I would get a cab to the airport, and from there I would get a plane to the Americas. I could have instructed a cab to pick me up at my house but it was a lovely day and I wanted to get my fresh air fix before no doubt being locked up in that departure lounge for hours on end.

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“Okay, I’ve got a pen” Cassie said. “Shoot”.

I put my passport down and walked away from the bed for a moment.

“I’d like the employee Margaret Oakenbridge told that her services are no longer required at Luton Town Football Club. I would also like my old desk back, in addition to being able to retain my other office for private engagements. Finally, I would like the former employee Caroline Smith re-instated with immediate effect”.

“That sounds like quite a lot” Cassie said, scribbling away on the other end. “Do you think my guardian will go for that?”

“Yes I think he will” I said with honesty. “What I’m asking for there is worth a lot less than five big ones”.

“Okay, I’ll pass it to him and see what he says. If there’s any problem, I’ll call you back”.

“Thanks Cassie”.

“Oh. James. Before you go...”

The line went quiet. I read between the lines and spared her the awkwardness.

“Don’t worry about it. Quite frankly I’m just glad to be alive right now. Besides, the odds of Luton getting back up aren’t as far-fetched as you might think. If it’s meant to be for me and you then it’s meant to be. We’re not going to know though until a year from now, so let’s not even think about it”.

---------

I don’t know why, but it felt like the kind of day I should be walking slap bang down the centre of the street in some kind of weird movie-style triumph. I might have got Luton relegated, and I might have ended up without Cassie. However, I did keep my job and I did stay alive. I had also (probably) managed to get Caroline her job back whilst at the same banishing the place of Dave and Margaret. I couldn't see any reason why Dilic would refuse me anyway.

Some people don’t realise this but you never get everything in life. More often than not, God lets you have one thing whilst holding back from you something else. There will come a day I achieve something worthwhile in my professional life, just as there will also come a day I find love again. I’m sure of both. Notice how I kept my options open there though? I didn’t say that the work related item would be with Luton, or even if it would be in football. Neither I did I claim the woman I would eventually find love with would be Cassie. It’s never best to plan things too acutely.

A lot of the locals around these streets knew me by sight. Some of them were glancing at me as I walked, no doubt wondering where I was off to with this huge suitcase trailing behind me. I smiled back each time I was looked at, in some instances waving. As I passed the fish and chip on the corner, I thought back to the list of demands passed to Dilic and imagined Caroline’s face when she got her job back. Then I imagined the faces of everyone else when they found out, not only about Caroline but about the other stuff too. I was probably going to be flavour of the month when I got back in a couple of weeks, and that made me smile profusely.

---------

“As much as I agree with you” Cassie replied. “That wasn’t the subject I was going to raise”

“Go on”.

“Dragomir was telling me last night about Dave’s interrogation. Apparently they beat him up quite badly. Then they told him to leave the county and never come back. When he was still being questioned though, Dragomir asked him why he hired that other manager on the piece of note paper only to then change his mind and hire you”.

“And what did he say?” I asked, flipping the suitcase shut.

“He said that just before he was due to meet ermm.....”.

“Simon Emery?”

“Yeah that’s it. Apparently, just before he was due to meet Simon Emery, Dave got a call from some guy who offered him £250,000 if he gave you the job. So, naturally Dave accepted the offer and told Simon he was no longer needed”.

“What?” I asked. “A quarter of a million? I don’t get it. Who would do that just so I could get a job?”

“Errm, your dad apparently”.

I threw the suitcase in the direction of the door a little harder than intended, and Bambi squeaked in surprise.

----------

I’ve changed in one subtle way over the course of the past year. I used to put off the good times at the slightest hint that something bad needed fixing. That’s why I made that stupid pledge to lay off women whilst I was sorting Luton out. I’m not going to do stuff like that anymore though. From now on I’m going to live my life by my schedule and things can just sort themselves out when they get sorted out.

“Going somewhere, James?”

It was old Mr Babbage, trimming his petals in the front garden. Babbage was retired and often spoke to me as I walked this way. Usually I’d be heading to the local supermarket rather than the taxi ranch though.

“Viva Las Vegas!” I called back, raising my fist triumphantly.

“Haha” Babbage laughed. “Have fun!”

“Will do”.

I wasn’t actually going to Vegas but anyway, back to what I was saying...

I've got no doubt at all I’ll be under the microscope from game one next season. If Dilic changes his mind about letting me see Cassie though, I’ll go see her and be with her even if at the time I’m one game away from the sack. Life’s too short to always focus on the negatives. There’s ALWAYS an issue that needs dealing with in a person’s life. There isn’t always, however, an avenue to explore leading to fun and satisfaction. That's just the way of the world. As such, when those avenues sometimes present themselves, you're best off charging down them without hesitation.

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“My dad doesn’t earn that kind of money. He works in a lowly trucking depot” I told Cassie firmly. “Dave must have been bullsh!tting”.

“James......”

“What?”

I began to put my coat on and turn off all the lights. It was time to get going and say goodbye to Bambi. My holiday wasn’t going to wait for me.

“James, according to Dave, the man who paid the quarter of a million claimed not to be the same dad you’ve known your whole life”.

I looked at Bambi and shivered slightly.

“My parents they err...they split not long after I came here to Luton”.

“This might be related then. Maybe you should put off your holiday a while and try and sort this out. You could call up your....”.

I pressed the red button and cut Cassie off. Then I turned the phone off and put it away in my pocket. Call it a reaction of denial, but I didn’t want to think about this just now. Instead I leaned down to say goodbye to Bambi.

“Don’t worry, munchkin. Aunty Nicky is going to take good care of you whilst I’m gone, and Aunty Sally too. Don’t annoy Aunty Sally, by the way! And don’t wind Bertie up too much! You’re very lucky to have two aunties. I only had one, and she was mean. She used to tease me with hob-nobs and never actually give me one. Anyway, enough about that”.

I was spouting rubbish, as people often do when they get news they don't like the sound of. Time to get going.

-----

I felt sweaty a few hundred yards past Babbage’s house. It was already a hot morning and God only knew what it would be like by the afternoon. I took my shades out as I walked and slid them on over my eyes. A man and his holiday are not easily parted. Cassie obviously wasn’t aware that. She’ll be aware of it now though.

I needed to cross the road at this point so I did. Halfway across I noted there were no cars coming. So, just for a short while, I began walking down the centre of the street. A woman at the side of the road glanced at me disapprovingly. I looked back at with a grin from beneath my shades and gave her a spontaneous Ali-G inspired flick of the wrist.

“Vivaaaaaaa Las Vegas!”

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

END OF THE SEASON

[ScottleeSV]

09/05/09 - Toronto, Canada

I’m writing this from my hotel room. It feels weird writing my diary using an actual pen and paper, but it was never going to be practical taking my laptop overseas. Some people feel comfortable doing that but I’m not one of them. I usually spend quite a lot of time filling in my diary back home. Not so here. This is a holiday after all, and I don’t want to get bogged down in note-taking when I’m supposed to be out here having fun. Still, half an hour’s writing here and there can’t do any harm. I’ve even got some Luton business to make a record of.

I’ve come to Toronto primarily because I want to see the Niagara Falls. It’s always been a must for me and tomorrow I’m finally going to be able to tick it off my ‘things to do before I die’ list. I can’t really explain my desire to see the falls other than to admit I’m secretly something of a nature freak, specifically nature of great aesthetic beauty. I’ve always been like that. Beach and p!ss up holidays in places like Benidorm and Ibiza have just never interested me. Some of that might be down to a certain past experience I’ve mentioned in these pages before, the one where my parents pulled me away from that beach party. Mostly though it’s just the way I am.

Niagara Falls actually comprises of several waterfalls stretching down the absolutely massive Niagara River. This flows on both sides of the Canadian and U.S border, with roughly 90% being on the Canadian side. I didn’t come to Toronto (as opposed to New York) for that reason though. I just thought this might end up being my one and only ever trip to Canada, where as America is somewhere I could envisage myself going several times.

Despite my eagerness to see the falls and its surrounding attractions, I decided to ease myself into this trip by seeing the sights and sounds of Toronto first. That’s why I’m on day four and I still haven’t seen any foamy water. I won’t bore with you with too much of a geography lesson when it comes to Canada’s most populated city. Just take my word for it that it’s a considerably more attractive place than Luton, or indeed any other city I’ve seen in England.

The best tourist attraction I’ve visited so far is the Royal Ontario Museum. I absolutely love museums and this is probably the best one I’ve ever been to. Call me sad if you want but I walked into “The ROM”, as it’s also known, at approximately 10am in the morning and I didn’t come out again until they were shutting up for the day. They’ve got about forty galleries in the place, covering mainly things like history and art. I wish the museum was in Luton because I didn’t have nearly enough time to see everything on the day I went.

The day after that (yesterday), I went to the hockey hall of fame. I don’t have a clue about hockey but I still enjoyed the exhibits and the glitz of the whole place. Later in the afternoon I took a trip to the Ontario Art Gallery, which just happens to be one of the largest of its kind in North America. Words can’t really describe this place. It’s not as information-heavy as The Rom, but it’s certainly more inspiring on the eyes. Come the early evening I was once again disappointed to see just how fast the time was going. It’s always like that on holiday isn’t it?

On the football front I have taken the occasion call from Brian and my scouts back home. Apparently Robert Eagle has signed a new one year contract extension with Norwich City. He won’t be going on a free transfer this summer as I’d hoped then. According to Brian he’s not even currently being touted out on loan, which surprises me. Good news did come however with the news another young left winger, Tottenham’s Charlie Daniels, is set to be released by the North London club and can thus be signed for free.

It was scout Rob Knowles who found this out. He claims Daniels is just as good as Eagle if not better, and would be an excellent signing for the Blue Square Premier. He also thinks we can snare the player for wages of about 1k a week but will have to move quickly because other clubs (LEAGUE clubs, no less) are bound to snap him up once word gets out he’s available. Thus, on this information alone I immediately gave Knowles the green light to set things in motion. If we can suitably replace Eagle before even May has come and gone then that’s a huge boost for my summer.

There has been more good news this time on the retention front. All the players who requested a transfer once our relegation was confirmed have now changed their minds. The likes of Claude Gnakpa (who was voted our player of the year by supporters), George Pilkington, Sol Davis, Richie Byrne, and Keith Keane, have already given up on a move away from the club and vowed to knuckle down instead to the task of returning us to the football league. In the case of Keith Keane, I can’t help wondering how much Nicky influenced his decision to stick around. The word on the street is that those two are really starting to become serious now.

During my time at the Toronto Zoo earlier this afternoon, I got a text from Cassie indicating that Dilic has agreed to my list of demands for reform in the office. Therefore, by the time I get back Margaret Oakenbridge should be long gone. I presume the news hasn’t got around yet though because I haven’t heard from anybody thanking me etc, or simply to ask me about it. Once the news does spread, my text inbox will doubtlessly be as packed as Grand Central Station. I should probably have used the place known as ‘Golden Horseshoe’ for that analogy (a highly populated area of Ontario), but I doubt anybody reading this would have known what I was talking about. Grand Central Station is at least in North America – that’s one thing.

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

2008/09 - Season round-up

Premier League

Top - Arsenal (91), Liverpool (84), Man Utd (83), Chelsea (78), Man City (59), Tottenham (59)

Bottom - Bolton (37), West Ham (36), Stoke City (36), Fulham (35), Portsmouth (35), Hull City (31)

They're a happy lot as Ashburton Grove. This is Arsenal's first league title since moving to the new stadium, and the first they've won overall since 2002. Liverpool take the runners-up spot with Man Utd and Chelsea predictably finishing third and fourth. It's quite depressing to see a nineteen point gap between the big four and the rest, but I guess that's just what the game has become. Having said that, Man City have money behind them and should (you would think) run the big boys a lot closer next season.

West Ham managed a dramatic 2-1 home win over to Chelsea to survive at Fulham's expense. Hull were actually looking good in early April before eventually losing their final four games. The league's top goalscorer was Emmanual Adebayor with 23 league goals. His reward was a new 5 year contract.

------

Championship

Top - Reading (96), Ipswich (79), Bristol City (78), Cardiff (75), Charlton (75), Doncaster (75), Sheff Utd (74)

Bottom - Swansea (52), Nottingham Forest (51), Watford (48), Blackpool (48), Norwich (45), Crystal Palace (44)

The Royals ran away with in the end, thanks largely to 28 goal hitman Kevin Doyle, officially the division's golden boot winner. The Irishman is wanted by Stoke City, but I can't really see how The Britannia Stadium would be any better a place to play football than The Madejski. I'm betting Doyle will stay, unless a bigger club than Stoke comes in for the 25 year old. Ipswich and Charlton will join Reading back in the Premier League next season, the latter winning in a dramatic playoff final against Bristol City.

If there's one consolation for the bruised and battered Dave Wheelie right now, it's that his beloved Hornets survived relegation by virtue of goal difference. Big clubs Norwich and Crystal Palace did bite the dust though. Tough times for supporters of those two clubs.

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League One

Top - Leeds (96), Millwall (76), Leicester (76), Crewe (75), Leyton Orient (74), Oldham (72)

Bottom - Southend (54), Bristol Rovers (54), Stockport (54), Walsall (51), Cheltenham (49), Yeovil (46), Hereford (36)

Good stuff from Leeds, who ended up winning the league by an incredible twenty points. Leicester surprisingly missed out on the second promotion place to Millwall, but made up for it by beating Crewe 2-1 in the playoff final to advance anyway. The two big pre-season favourites then didn't disappoint. Will Norwich and Palace be as successful down here next season.

The golden boot winner was split in this division. There were three winners all sharing the top prize - Jermaine Beckford of Leeds, Simon Cox of Swindon, and Calvin Zola of Crewe. All three players scored 23 league goals. At the bottom I think Walsall were highly unlucky to get relegated having amassed 51 points. It's a tough league to survive in though.

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League Two

Top - Shrewsbury (84), Bradford (80), Darlington (79), Morecambe (77), Rochdale (77), Bury (72), Brentford (72)

Bottom - Accrington Stanley (49), Chesterfield (45), Bournemouth (41), Chester (38), Macclesfield (34), Luton Town (26)

Not much more to say about the relegation dogfight in this league. We never really looked like staying up, and Macclesfield were poor from start to finish. Chester's haul of 38 points from 46 games was awful, and they can count themselves ridiculously fortunate to stay up.

In the knowledge they scored no fewer than 98 league goals, I'm almost surprised Shrewsbury didn't get more points. I must once again mention the glorious fact we beat them 3-1 at Kenilworth Road during the league campaign, one of only ten defeats they suffered all season. We lost just four more games than that and finished bottom. Rochdale won the playoffs and Grant Holt the golden boot (netting an incredible 30 times).

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Blue Square Premier

Top - Torquay United (85), Rushden and Diamonds (81), Cambridge United (80), Wrexham (78), Oxford United (78), York City (74)

Bottom - Forest Green (51), Altrincham (47), Lewes (47), Eastbourne (43), Barrow (41)

Plainmoor will see league football again next season. The Devon outfit ran this race perfectly and finished narrowly ahead of Rushden and Cambridge with 85pts. The playoffs were won by Wrexham, who triumphed in the final against Oxford. The U's must console themselves by the fact their star striker James Constable finished the golden boot winner with 27 league goals.

At the foot of the table, three of the four promoted sides went straight back down again. Only Kettering, Blue Square North champions the previous season, managed to stay up. No one team disgraced themselves; it's just very hard to stay up in this league once you've come up. Forest Green did their usual Houdini act in the end, surviving at the expense of Altrincham.

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Blue Square North

Top - Tamworth (78), Gateshead (70), AFC Telford (69), Farsley Celtic (69), Droylsden (67), Hinckley (67), Stafford (66)

Bottom - Fleetwood (47), Alfreton (47), Solihull Moors (45), Burscough (42), Vauxhall Motors (41), Hucknall (32)

No spectaculars here where champions Tamworth didn't even reach the 80pt mark. Droylsden won the playoffs despite finishing fifth in the league. They will be looking to fare much better in the Blue Square Premier next season than they did in their hapless first effort back in 2007/08. The top goalscorer was Stalybridge's Nathan Joynes who finished on 23 league goals.

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Blue Square South

Top - AFC Wimbledon (80), St Albans (71), Chelmsford (69), Havant and Waterlooville (65), Welling (64), Bishops Stortford (64)

Bottom - Team Bath (52), Bognor Regis (50), Basingstoke (49), Hayes and Yeading (49), Eastleigh (43), Thurrock (43)

Only a quick sacking next season (at my end) will stop me and Steve Fairclough now going head to head in the Blue Square Premier. His AFC Wimbledon side clinched the league title with 9pts to spare to cap off a hugely successful honeymoon period in his fledgling managerial career. St Albans came through in the playoff competition, and Chelmsford's Sam Higgins finished the league's top scorer with a modest 21 strikes.

Unlucky to be relegated down to the Ryman league were Hayes and Yeading, who managed a decent enough 49pts from 42 games only to fall foul of a very evenly matched league table. Eastleigh and Thurrock also bit the dust.

[shaggy61]

only just got to the trivia/star wars bit, absolutely loving the LTFC story, as they are my team, its a great read. Couple of points, you could have made loads out of the Luton - Watford League cup game, think you were hinting towards Wheelie and his yellow glasses, but not got their yet! Secondly as a LTFC/Star Wars Loving geek of 29, any self respecting Luton fan knows that Littlewoods Cup final 3-2 win over Arsenal was in 1988, not '87.

Loving your work, gonna get back to the story now....

[ScottleeSV]

Hi Shaggy! Glad you like the story. I'll have to go back an edit that 1988 thing. If I go to Kenilworth Road in the future to see Luton v Halifax, it will probably be a very weird experience for me

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11/05/09 - Maids of the Mist

Due to bad weather it took me an extra twenty four hours to get around to my big boat trip to within a hair’s breadth of the Niagara Falls. It was worth the wait though. The tour I took today will live long in my memory and then some. In fact, if I’m reincarnated as another human being with absolutely no memory of my current life, I reckon there’s still a chance I might remember today’s outing. It was THAT memorable. The boat I went on was called “The Maid of the Mist”, which I shared with a load of other restless souls trying to get a close-up glimpse of nature at its most unblemished.

The tour cost me fifteen dollars, an absolute snip. I would have paid much more than that. We had to wear these blue overcoat things to stop our clothes getting wet from the drizzle protruding from the waterfall. Again though, I would have quite happily sacrificed my best jeans and top to the elements for the experience I received. The sight was majestic, the noise deafening, and the feeling of being in a place like no other on earth, apparent throughout. I probably sound like a travel brochure but it really was awesome.

People banded together on the boat too. Folk, who on any other public boat trip would have just sat quietly and taken snapshots in their own little tiny groups, here began turning to each other talking and laughing and jollying each other up. Constantly leaning out over the railings next to me was this big fat Mexican guy who kept shouting “hey-heyyy!” with every rise and jolt the boat took. On any other day I would found him to be an unbearable (and stinky) pain in the backside. Today though was his lucky day. I shouted things back to him like “I hear ya partner”, usually with a buddy-like high five to go with it.

Of decidedly more interest to me though, at least once I’d seen the front of them, were the two young ladies on the seats straight ahead. I quickly recognised their voices as American, and I wasn’t slow to take advantage of my surroundings.

“I don’t know about you two, but I reckon I’d have a chance of swimming off the top of there, diving down, and surviving”.

“I’d bet you 1000 dollars you couldn’t” the taller one said.

“Well, I’d take you up on that. Thing is though, by the time I swam to shore, you two would probably be long gone. I wouldn’t be able to collect my winnings!”

“Oh, well, we’d leave you a cheque at the hotel desk. Just ask the receptionist for the mail left by Paula and Emily. If we never see the money leave our accounts, we’ll just presume you’d died during your freefall”.

They both laughed, and in the moments that followed they let me know which one of them was Paula and which was Emily. I also let them know my own name, which perhaps unsurprisingly they didn’t recognise (The Football League show apparently isn’t a big hit in the state of Massachusetts just yet). Paula was the attractive one, short, bushy haired and with a mouse-like complexion. Emily was very tall and, I don’t know, just not my type.

“I once saw a man dive into the Rapids at your Alton Towers” Paula said. “He was a real crazy Brit”.

“Oh you totally know that guy was doing that just to impress you!” Emily said to Paula.

“I’ve been on that ride” I said.

“Hey” Emily said, turning to me with a sly smile. “Maybe you’re also hoping to impress her by diving! Maybe it's a Brit thing”.

“Well if I am, look on the bright side – out here she’ll find it easier to hide the body of a guy pestering her for a date than she would at Alton Towers”.

Good gag, but awkward delivery. Still, it did get a half a laugh and I reckoned I was doing alright on the whole.

“So you really think you could do the dive then?” Paula joked.

“Nah. To be honest with you I’d rather get attacked by a power drill”.

“Strange mind!” said Emily, thankfully in good spirits.

As more spray from the water took everybody on the boat by surprise, I suddenly felt two big fat Mexican hands clamp down on my shoulders.

“Hey-heyyy!” came the sudden cry in my ear drums.

“I know, Pedro” I said, shuffling free of his grip. “Big wave! Big wave!”

I quickly mouthed ‘not with me’, and the two girls giggled some more.

The three of us hung out together for quite a few hours after that, first browsing the gift shops and then having a meal. I excused myself in the early evening though because Rob Knowles called me up with some news on the transfer front. Me and the girls were having a game of table football in a bar at the time he phoned. Paula was a lot worse at the game than Emily so I'd been helping out by being goalie.

“I’ll see you girls tomorrow” I said, telling Rob to hold on a moment. “I’ve really got to take this and it could be a while. I’m going to head back to my hotel room”.

“But James, I need you!”

“So does Luton”.

I’d had a great day up until this point and Rob’s call was the icing on the cake. Not only had we clinched the signing of Charlie Daniels for a measly £975 a week contract, but we’d also signed Hull City striker Michael Bridges! If you’re in any way knowledgeable about football, you will at least know who Bridges is even if Daniels is a mystery. Bridges has played at a number of football league clubs over the years, and at the peak of his powers was a major force as high as The Championship. He suffered with injuries and fitness problems in subsequent years though and never quite fulfilled his potential. He’s still only 30 years old though, and apparently he’s fit again and raring to go.

We entered this summer period with absolutely no decent strikers on our books, so to begin the shopping spree with the free purchase of Bridges is absolutely massive. I just hope he can stay fit for us. If he can’t, the £3000 per week wages we’ve had to agree to might come in for some criticism. I really can't complain though - Daniels and Bridges! Fantastic.

In other news, Caroline Smith is apparently back at the office and working merrily way in her old job again. Oakenbridge has now gone, according to Rob. I haven’t received any texts or calls from anybody apart from him though, so I’ve got half an inkling the office lot might be playing dumb over this whole turn of events and waiting until I can get back so they can throw me a surprise welcome or something. On the other hand, they might just be being stingy over the cost of texts and calls overseas. We’ll see.

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

Other competition results from the 08/09 season

(FA Cup) - Man Utd beat Aston Villa in the final thanks to goals from Ronaldo, Hargreaves and Vidic.

(League Cup) - Man City beat Arsenal 3-2 in the final.

(Champion's League) - Barcelona beat Lyon 2-1 in the final to win their 3rd Champion's League

(UEFA Cup) - In an all British final, Arsenal beat Liverpool on penalties after a 1-1 draw over 120 minutes

(Community Shield) - Portsmouth beat Man Utd 2-1.

(Johnstone's Paint Trophy) - Leicester beat Rochdale 2-0 in the final.

(Conference League Cup) - Burton beat Torquay on penalties after a 0-0 draw.

(FA Trophy) - Histon beat Salisbury 2-0 in the final.

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

A great season for Arsenal then, winners of The Premier League, The UEFA Cup, and runners up in The League Cup

[bambi holt]

Have you actually been to toronto and niagra falls? i have and your decription is very accurate, the falls are astounding!

[ScottleeSV]

Nope, never been. I hope to go one day though

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12/05/09 - Bottom of a glass

I spent the bulk of today meandering my way up and down the Niagara River Recreational Trail. My heart wasn’t really in it though. I spent a lot of my time looking at the path in front of me instead of the river. It’s hard to enjoy something like this when you spent the previous day on The Maid of The Mist. More crucially, I think it finally caught up with me today just how significant Dave’s claims about my family might turn out to be. For that reason alone, I sneaked off to the trail without the two girls. We were supposed to be meeting up to see the Skylon Tower. Not any more. I wanted some time to think.

It’s hard to explain why I flew off to Canada in such a good mood after Cassie’s final phonecall. Some things take a while to sink in, I suppose. Or maybe I just hadn’t wanted to believe her? Either way, I was starting to crash. After all the highs of the past week or more, I was finally starting to crash. I felt sad and I felt angry. There was a good chance my dad wasn’t my real dad, and that’s enough to make even an emotional hardass like me break out in a nervous sweat. Dave probably wasn’t lying over this one, I was sure of it. He hadn’t known me or Simon Emery prior to that application process. There wasn’t any other possible explanation for his change of heart than the one given.

Who would pay a quarter of a million to get me into a management job? It could only be a relative, a close one like a father. I hadn’t given any escaped convicts bread and water out on some moor at any point during my life, as far as I was aware. Dave had to be telling the truth. I didn’t even have any doubt as to the size of the amount paid. Dave had probably been on a fair wedge at Luton Town before his sacking – nothing less than a small fortune would have enticed him to do something dirty. Not only that but he would have had nothing to gain by inventing too large a sum when telling Dilic’s goons about it. They would only have been likely to ask him to pay it back, so there was no gain by exaggerating. If anything Dave might have been tempted to ‘play down’ the amount he’d received.

I should have known there was something dodgy about the way my parents split up. They’d been together for decades and never had so much as a barney. I never would have even considered the possibility they might split before they actually did. In fact, if you’d have asked me a year ago what would be a likely minimum cause for my parents splitting up, I would have said it would have to be something massive, like say...one of them finding out I’m not their son. Something like that.

“Poor dad” I said, looking out into the river.

And of course, hadn’t it been strange that my mum had been perfectly willing to drop out of the retirement home plans, and let my Dad have the whole property accrued? What had that been all about – guilt? And wasn’t it funny that ever since the split, I keep getting random drunken messages from my dad, eventually culminating in an offer to go live with him? If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s been trying to affirm his position as my ‘proper’ father, just in case I ever find out the truth and decide to cut him loose. Silly sausage.

Nope, I hadn’t needed to cancel my holiday and go phoning people up over this one. Coming here and thinking things through had proven all the answers I needed. I’ll tell you something for neither love nor money though, if Dave’s claims are true then my real dad must be s__t-hot loaded. You don’t just chuck away a quarter of a million pounds in this day and age unless....well, unless you’re a millionaire. The mind boggles.

Later in the evening I went to the bar in the lobby of the hotel and pulled up a seat on my own. I ordered a whisky and told the bartender to leave the bottle.

“It’s a woman isn’t it?” he grinned, a tall thin man with oily slicked back hair.

“No it isn’t actually” I replied, downing my first shot.

Just then though Paula and Emily walked into the bar. They immediately saw me of course, and whilst Emily waited just a few yards away, Paula came up close to have a word.

“James! Where have you been today? We looked around for you?”

The bartender, busy wiping a mug with a cloth, looked and me now and winked. Then he walked around the other side of the bar out of the way.

“I’ve had some family trouble back home” I replied.

“Oh” she said, looking at Emily and then back towards me.

At this point she went back to Emily and told her she’d be up whenever. For now though she was going to stay and have a drink with yours truly.

“What kind of family trouble?” she eventually asked, sitting down and pouring herself a shot.

“It’s to do with my mum and dad. Basically, they’ve split up”.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No”.

“Ooookay. Want to hear about how cool the Skylon Tower was?”

“Not really” I said, trying not to sound rude.

We sat in silence, and for a few moments anyway there was a danger things could get awkward.

“How about a game of table football then? I still suck and you still need to finish teaching me”.

“You’re not going to take no for an answer tonight are you?” I asked, laughing throughout the sentence.

“Definitely not!” she giggled back. “I’m on holiday. I intend to stay up and enjoy myself!”

“Yeah” I replied, meeting her eyeline. “Okay then, lead me to the table”.

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

Luton Town best first eleven, 08/09

Dean Brill - 51 apps, 6.84

Claude Gnakpa - 49 apps, 7.10 (2 gls)

Sol Davis - 40 apps, 6.93

George Pilkington - 46 apps, 6.91

Ronny Johnson - 23 apps, 7.00 (1 gl)

Keith Keane - 44 apps, 6.75 (4 gls)

Kevin Nicholls - 27apps, 6.78 (6 gls)

Paul McVeigh - 34 apps, 6.62 (1 gl)

Robert Eagle - 38apps, 6.79 (1 gl)

Bartosz Slusarski - 28apps, 6.82 (6 gls)

Chris Martin - 32 apps, 6.69 (7 gls)

A team performance website awarded us the score of '13904'

[shaggy61]

Got to the end now Scottleesv, just a great read, cant wait to follow the next season's progresss, at some stages during the read, i thought you knew the ins and outs of kennie, with the Portacabin as shop, outside the ground, cos thats what we've got! Then the idea of building a penthouse flat next to the Kenny made me chuckle, if you can get down for the Shaymens visit, have a walk down "muggers alley," and you'll know that there is no chance of a penthouse anything being built near that ground! So many twists and turns almost didnt care about the football in the end.

Keep up the good work-up the hatters!

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks a lot Shaggy, I appreciate that. If the port-a-cabin is 'realistic' then it's a total fluke, but I'll take any fluke I can get lol

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13/05/09 - One more day before I go-go

The following morning I woke up feeling a lot more cheery about life. I’m strictly guessing here, but I reckon the fact Paula was in bed with me probably had something to do with it. We’d gone back to my room last night – Paula’s orders. She’d said in the bar it was clearly going to take more than whisky and a football game to cheer me up, and as it happened, she had just the solution. The barman had winked at me again as Paula had led me hand in hand out of the bar. I guess he’s seen this kind of thing develop before his eyes many many times.

“Morning, tiger” she said, waking up a minute or so after me and stretching an arm out over my chest.

“Good morning”.

“Hell of a night”.

“Hell of a night” I agreed.

I lifted Paula’s arm off me and sat up on the side of the bed. It was true I’d enjoyed last night, and particularly the sex. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to get all lovey-touchy-feely in the aftermath though. In fact, I kind of felt like it might be time to get out of Ontario and go someplace else. Maybe not home necessarily (pre-season was still a way away), just some place else.

“Now why didn’t I notice this last night?” Paula asked curiously, sitting up and beginning to prod the scar on my neck.

“Because you were drunk?”

“Maybe. How did you get this anyway?”

“Hang-gliding”.

“Nasty”.

Once her attention was done with that she lay back down and pulled the sheet up to her neck. She still seemed quite tired actually.

“You seem a bit distant” she remarked between yawns. “Let me guess, you’ve got a girlfriend back home?”

“I don’t actually”

“I must confess that I do – a boyfriend I mean. I don’t think Emily’s going to be too impressed with me later on”.

“That’s your business”.

She didn’t reply again, and a couple of minutes later I heard snoring. I got out of bed at this point, put my boxers on, and made a grab for the complimentary white dressing gown I’d left hanging over the corner of the bathroom door. A nice early morning smoke was in order and I noticed Paula had left her pack of cigs on the bedside table. I took one out of the pack now and quietly sneaked out to the balcony.

As I lit my cigarette and took in the early morning air, I thought for a moment about Cassie. I’d spent month after month earlier this year thinking that when my long draught with women did finally end, it would be with her. Life breeds strange bedfellows though, I guess. Suddenly here I was sleeping with some American girl instead, one I barely knew and probably wasn’t likely to continue knowing once the holiday ended. It wasn’t as if I’d never had a one night stand before, and it wasn’t as if I hadn’t slept with anybody since Charlotte. Despite those two facts, my ‘score’ with Paula still wasn't sitting entirely comfortably with me.

I guess part of me felt that if I liked Cassie that much, I should have been waiting out another year for her and not looking at other women. Who’s to say she’d do the same back though? Who’s to say I wouldn’t hang around for most of that year only to see Cassie get bored of waiting and go off with some other guy, someone her own age? Who was to say she’d still even like me after another year went by? Who’s to say Luton won’t flunk badly again next season and prompt Dilic into permnanently barring me from even laying eyes on the girl?

There’s just too many things that can go wrong, and most importantly of all, I’m not even sure I want Cassie anymore anyway. We had a good connection going at one point when we were doing all that county-hopping, but ever since she went behind my back over that Wheelie information (even if she did have good intentions) I’ve felt that connection become slightly frayed at the edges, at least on my end. I don’t know. I don’t know what’s what at all. All I do know is, my head isn’t 100% into the whole Cassie thing at the moment, just as it wasn’t into that Trail Walk thing yesterday.

After my smoke I went inside and hopped back into bed, snuggling up to Paula as close as I could. Just because I was ready to leave her and this place behind didn’t mean I was going to be an arsehole about it. When she eventually awoke for a second time, I was much nicer to her than I had been the first.

“I’m going tomorrow afternoon” I said.

“Back home?”

“No. Someplace else".

"Where?"

"I’ve got one or two ideas but it will probably depend on what flights I can get on the quick. It’ll definitely be somewhere in America though”.

“Want me to come with you? I doubt Emily will but I could. I don’t have to be back at work for another couple of weeks”.

“No, it’s alright. I don’t mean to sound rude but I could really do with a week somewhere by myself”.

“Oh”.

“Look on the bright side though. I’m not going until tomorrow. We could still hang out all day today. I quite fancy that ‘tour behind the waterfall’ thing actually - We could do that if you want. Then tonight we could get a meal somewhere, have the mother of all nights out, and then errr...finish on a high”.

Paula smiled and put both her hands on my cheeks as I looked down at her.

“So you’re going to want do this again tonight?”

“And this morning” I said.

She laughed heartily and so did I. Then I reached down to take my boxers off.

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19/05/09 - Into the wild

I made good on my word to leave the following day. I said my goodbyes to Paula in the lobby and took a very expensive cab to the airport. It actually cost me more to ride that cab than the damn Maid of the Mist. It’s not like I was short of a bob or two though, I suppose. Despite going through with my departure, I didn’t finalise where I was going next until I was sat in a cafe at the airport reading a travel brochure. I got talking to a middle-aged couple and they recommended a place called Adirondack National Park, pictures of which were in the brochure.

I’d never heard of it myself, but this couple practically swore by it. They said they’d been out there three times over the years and enjoyed themselves on every single visit. Adirondack is in the North East part of New York State. I’ve always imagined New York as being nothing more than row after row of huge tall buildings. That’s just the city you see on TV though. The actual state has quite its fair share of scenic pleasures, Adirondack being perhaps one of the main ones.

This was a nature adventure more than the sightseeing bonanza of Toronto and the Niagara Falls. I was ill-prepared for camping though so I decided to try and find a room in a local village or town somewhere and hike out in a different direction each day. It took me more than twenty four hours to get inside the general Adirondack area travelling from Toronto, and then another day after that to find a base camp. I ended up renting a place called ‘Brookside Cottage’ near Lake Everest. It’s the ideal place to come for kayaking and canoeing apparently. I wasn’t interested in any of that though. I just wanted to lose myself for a few days and have a wander around.

Six days have now passed since I left Paula. I’ve been writing a journal of my wanders around the forests on most of those days, but after careful consideration I’ve taken those pages out of this account and put them in a separate ‘holiday records binder’. After all, this diary is intended primarily to be a documentation of my football manager career, and I’ve already taken some liberties when it comes to staying off the beaten track. Take my word for it though, Brookside Cottage is amazing. Type it into Google (along with 'Adirondack National Park' for better results, maybe) and have a look for yourself.

Two days ago I got a call from Rob Knowles announcing more welcome developments in our summer recruitment drive. He gave me the option to sign five more players, and from those I ended up picking two. The first was striker Danny Cadamateri from Huddersfield, the other defender David McCracken from Wycombe Wanderers. Both are coming up to the end of their current contracts having been told they will not be retained by the clubs they play for.

Danny Cadamateri is a well travelled journeyman, well known amongst many fans because of his famous goal against Liverpool whilst playing for Everton as a teenager. He never made it in the top flight and for the majority of his career since has found himself bouncing from club to club further down the ladder. Despite dropping into the Blue Square Premier to sign for us, he’s still only 29 years old. In fact last season he scored 9 goals in 19 games for Huddersfield in League Onbe, leading me to wonder why he wasn’t retained. It’s an exciting prospect to imagine him playing up front with Michael Bridges.

The second signing I authorised, David McCracken, is a Scot who has spent much of his career to date plying his trade for Dundee United in the Scottish Premier Division. To make his CV look even more impressive (to a club like us anyway), he can boast at least one season’s worth of English league experience too, having played at Wycombe all of last season. McCracken has five international caps at Under 21 level and should be a reasonably good replacement for the departed Ronny Johnson in central defence.

When Rob phoned me I was walking up a trail near the frozen Ausable River, wearing some snow shoes I found in a cupboard back at the cottage. Assuming the paperwork for the transfers goes through okay, I shall probably always remember the signings of Cadamateri and McCracken as ‘the signings I made whilst wearing snow shoes’. Similarly, I guess Michael Bridges will always be ‘the signing I made whilst playing table football in a Toronto hotel’. Charlie Daniels is the unlucky one, as I think I received the initial call about him when I was having a boring moment sat in my hotel room doing nothing.

Tomorrow it will be two weeks since I left England. The day after that is the last day I’ve got the cottage booked for. Once my reservation expires I’m finally going to head back home. Pre-season training begins on June 10th. Until then I’m going to chill out at home and have a second holiday, the kind where you spend countless days in a row sitting around in your dressing watching films and playing on your Xbox, occasionally expending the effort required to walk the dog (if you have one), call up for takeaway, go for a dump, or put your shoes on so you can go down the pub. Sometimes those sorts of holidays can be just as satisfying in their own way as the sort I’ve been on these last two weeks.

[ScottleeSV]

31/05/09 - Homecoming

When I finally arrived back at the office it was to cheers, acclaim, and several hugs. Fancy that - this hapless manager, with his record of one season played one relegation achieved, was returning to practically a heroes welcome. Courtesy of Nicky, Brenda, Caroline, and Darren (although I doubt the latter’s contribution in the kitchen was all that significant), my first afternoon back was spent tucking into a much delayed buffet to celebrate Caroline’s reinstatement. I was the chief reason she had been reinstated though, and couple that to the fact I’d been absent for most of the past month and you had a situation where the buffet was officially in honour of Caroline but was actually centered around me.

“Did you get lucky with any Canadian girls over there?” Nicky asked, tucking into one of Brenda’s homemade hot cross buns.

“Nah. I was too busy seeing the sights” I replied.

“You were gone a long time” said Caroline. “You must have gone a whole month! I thought you said you were only going out there for a couple of weeks?”

“Well, I liked it over there. I almost couldn’t bring myself to go home at all”.

In actual fact I’d already be home since the 20th. I just hadn’t fancied being disturbed whilst I festered away in my flat undergoing a little R and R.

“Have you met Dave’s replacement yet, James, the new ‘acting chairman?” (this from Darren).

“Bob Wharton? No. I’ve got a meeting with him tomorrow though. That’s why I’ve come in today, to get all the chatty-catchy-uppy time with you lot out the way before the serious business begins. Which office is he in anyway?”

“Dave’s old one”.

“Cool. Not far to walk then”.

There had been a letter from Dilic waiting for me when I’d returned from America. In it he’d stated that a man called Bob Wharton would be assuming the newly created position of ‘acting chairman’ forthwith. Apparently this didn’t mean Dilic would be stepping down. It didn’t even mean this Wharton character would in any way be ‘chairman’. The title had been created in response to confusion last season over Dave Wheelie’s numerous roles and responsibilties, largely caused by Dilic’s tendancy to not take an active role in day to day activities.

Wharton was basically going to be the conduit between Dilic, the shareholders, and myself. In effect then he was going to be the new Dave Wheelie, as Darren’s comment would indicate. The only difference was the that Bob wasn’t going to be assuming the dual responsibility of handling the club’s legal matters as Dave had done. A solicitor was going to be hired separately for that role, and I can only presume at the time of writing these notes that he/she has yet to be hired. It’s still early in the summer though. This time last year I hadn’t been hired, for example.

“Are we getting someone new in to replace Alison?” Caroline asked.

“Probably. I’ll ask Bob when I meet him tomorrow. If we are getting someone new though, it doesn’t surprise me they’re dragging it out a while. There can’t be much work for a ticket administrator during the summer months”.

“Apart from catching criminals” Nicky said with an undertone of bitterness. “You owe me £33.48 in dog food, by the way”.

“Jesus” I said, glancing around at everybody. “When did our Nicky develop a mean streak?”

“Ever since she found out Keith’s been going to that dodgy strip club in the centre of town” Darren chuckled, taking a breadstick and dunking it in salad cream.

“He didn’t go alone!” Nicky exclaimed. “He got dragged there by some of the other players on a night out. He didn’t get any pervy private dances or anything”.

“You were still annoyed at the time you found out!”

“What strip club?” I interrupted.

“Heavenly Hatters" Darren answered. "It’s down near... never mind. It’s in the centre of town anyway”.

“They named it after the football club?”

“The original owners were Luton fans. My dad says that in the old days the girls used to come out on stage wearing Luton shirts. They’ve stopped that now though apparently. Now it’s been taken over by some other people. They’ve kept the name of the place the same though”.

“Wonders never cease” I sighed.

Brenda and Caroline were looking searchingly at Darren. I suspected that they suspected he’d paid one or two visits to Heavenly Hatters himself. Not a big deal though. I bit into a sausage roll and turned my attention back to Nicky.

“Nicky, how much did you say I owed you in dog food?”

“£33.48”.

“What the hell were you feeding her?”

“You told me to get her only the very best! Sally was there when you said it. She can testify”.

“Are you going to be using your old desk this season?” Brenda asked.

“Actually I’m going to flit between both here and my office. I prefer working in here with you lot as you know, but the office is still useful for private meetings. I’m thinking of spending my mornings in the private office being all serious and my afternoons down here in a more unwinding type of way”.

Nods of approval all round. Boy it was good to be back.

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

01/06/09 - Great expectations

The following day I knocked on Bob Wharton’s office door and was duly invited inside. I had to blink twice when I got my first glimpse of the guy though. To say he was massive would be an understatement. He was bald and fat and had about five double chins, if that's possible. He reminded me of the Doctor Robotnik character from the old Sonic the Hedgehog computer games.

“James Martin?” he asked, flashing a cheery grin.

“The one and only”.

“Excellent. Do sit down”.

I took a seat and shook his flabby hand. I couldn’t help noticing Dave’s old chair lying abandoned over by one of the walls. Bob had evidently brought his own chair to the job with him, one where the arm rests are set wider apart. Next to Dave’s old chair was Dave’s old safe. What was that still doing in here?

“Forgive me for asking, but is that safe yours?”

“No. It was under the desk when I came here. My feet kept banging into it though so I moved it over there. I can only presume it belonged to my predecessor in a past life”.

“So Dave never came back for it, or even emptied it?”

“I don’t think so. From what I gathered at my interview, Mr Wheelie departed the club rather suddenly. Anyway, never mind that. It’s great to meet you, James. I hope our association will be a successful one”.

As I momentarily considered the possibility there was still a handgun in Bob's office without him even knowing about it, Bob launched into a huge speech about his role at the club and loads of other stuff not worth repeating. Despite clearly weighing about three tonnes (conservative estimate), he did at least come across as friendly and honest. Just when I was starting to feel optimistic about the future of our ‘association’ though, he hit me with it...

“James, as far as success on the pitch this forthcoming season is concerned I’m not going to beat around the bush with you. I’m going to be as completely honest with you as I would expect you to be with me. The shareholders and Mr Dilic got together around about the time of my hiring. One of the matters they discussed was what our targets should be in the Blue Square Premier this season. Basically, you’re expected to win the league title and get us back into the football league at the first attempt. Still, no great shakes eh?”

He flashed another big grin at me. I didn’t grin back though.

“Get real! Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. James, we’re Luton Town! This is the Blue Square Premier! How hard can it be? Come on, it’s a tinpot league. I saw a match on Setanta a couple of years back between errr Stevenage and Altrincham, I think it was. The standard of play was just...well it wasn’t great”.

“Bob, no disrespect but surely this forthcoming season should be about rebuilding the squad? We can’t just come down into the non-league and expect to whip everybody five or six nil! It doesn’t work like that. Trust me I used to play for Morecambe when they were down here. I know the scene!”

“You’re just the man for the job then, eh?” smiled Bob. “Look, I’m not naive. I know the league won’t win itself, but we’re still a massive club at this level. The board and the fans will simply not tolerate failure down here. And another thing, you’ve already had a season to get your feet under the table. You didn’t quite cut it last year but here’s your chance to make things right. Don’t knock it - some clubs would have replaced you already”.

I stood up from the chair and went to the wall, the opposite one from where all the clutter was. I placed both hands on the woodchip and looked down at my feet. In my mind’s eye I was picturing a horrible scenario in the future where we were a creditable third place in the table in October only to then suffer the fate of Wharton calling me into his office to tell me it wasn’t good enough, and that my P45 would be in the post by Halloween. Awful. It seemed only too believable too.

There was another side to the coin though; I suppose it wasn’t inconceivable I could win the league with the players we had. I didn’t think it was exactly ‘probable’ (as Bob seemed to), but it was definitely ‘possible’. Even I had to admit that, and that was the eventuality I would have to keep believing in. It would be wonderful to win a league title and enjoy the adulation of thousands.

I could imagine walking around the stadium on the final day of the season showing off the trophy. I could imagine taking an open top tour around the town, crowds demanding a glimpse of James ‘The Saviour’ Martin every step of the way. I could also imagine Dilic showing me into a pearly white mansion bedroom, where Cassie would be waiting on the bed clutching a glass of champagne with ‘Luton Town : Blue Square Premier winners 09/10’ engraved on it. Cassie’s legs would then start to slowly spread, and she would beckon me forward with one finger.

“Are you okay?” Bob asked, bringing me out of my trance.

“Yeah, just errrr.... thinking about a potential signing”.

“Ah-ha! That’s what I like to see! The meeting’s not even over and your mind’s already on the job! Good stuff”.

I walked towards the door, intent on walking out without saying another word. Bob though had other ideas.

“James” he said, halting me in my tracks as I reached for the doorknob. “You’ll be fine. Just work hard and get the results. And remember, Luton is the mob. Get them results, and they will love you for it. Win the crowd, and you will win the title”.

He chuckled again behind his desk and at least two of his chins did a little wobble, Harold Bishop-style.

“What’s that from, Gladiator?” I asked, trying to keep my voice friendly (which wasn't easy the way I felt).

“Yeah, but I think it fits with our situation here, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it’s exactly the same thing” I lied, reaching for the knob again.

[ScottleeSV]

05/06/09 - A blonde bombshell

On the agenda today was a meeting with Erica. The good news about this was that it’s always nice to sit across a desk from an outrageously beautiful blonde like Erica. The bad news though was the fact the topic of the meeting as described in my E-mail inbox was ‘wage budget cuts’. Thus, I approached her office door at 11am this morning with quite a degree of trepidation.

Let me give you a bit of background info in regards to the wages at Luton Town (if your memory is a little hazy). My wage budget last season was £30,000 per week. I spent the first half of the season though operating at well over the 35k mark, and Erica wasn’t happy about it. Throughout the rest of the season I gradually managed to get that figure down to just over 30k. It still wasn’t ideal but it did at least keep the powers that be from banging on my door making fire-sale demands.

As the season came to its conclusion I trimmed the bill even further, largely courtesy of releasing players, selling players, and asking players to take wage cuts. I did this because I was anticipating having my budget slashed during the summer. I’m not stupid. With the club debt spiralling all the time coupled with us going down into the Blue Square Premier, it was my own personal inkling that the budget in time for my second season in charge would drop from 30k to say...25k. I was even slightly fearful it might go down to 20-23k. You never know with this club, quite frankly.

My wage trimming was so good throughout March and April that even with the four new signings of Daniels, Bridges, Cadamateri, and McCracken, the current expenditure is still only 20k. Therefore, if I could walk out of Erica’s office today without having had the budget taken any lower than 25k, I would not only be well inside the budget but still be in a position to money to throw around (on wages anyway) between now and the start of the season. Unbeknown to Erica, I already had contracts for more new players due to be stamped and sealed by the end of the week.

“Do have a seat” Erica told me as I walked in.

“Thanks. Did you have a nice summer holiday?”

“Not bad. You?”

“Yeah it was good”.

This was usually as friendly as it got with Erica. She was normally ice cold with me, and I couldn’t envisage that changing anytime soon. She did fascinate me though. I bet it would quite something to sit in a bar having a beer with her, if only to see her compelled to not act like such a hard-faced bitch. She was dressed like the proverbial scarlet woman today - an all red theme. She had on red high heels, a red skirt, a red shirt, and even a red business jacket. She was smoking hot though. Smoking.

“Right then, let’s get down to business. After a meeting between myself and assorted members of the shareholders committee, together with....”

“Erica” I interrupted with a smile. “Let’s just cut to the chase and work from there. What's the new wage budget?”

She looked at me carefully, and it was in this moment I knew the news was going to severely jar me. I still wasn’t prepared for the answer when it came though.

“14k”

“Fourteen thousand?!” I practically shouted back at her. “Fourteen thousand? Fourteen thousand a week?”

“You heard”.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! That’s less than half of last season!”

“James, a lot of water has passed under the bridge since last season. We’re now down in....”

“The Blue Square Premier, yes I know. And yes I know we’re in the red apparently too. But fourteen lousy thousand?! You do know I’m expected to win the league this season don’t you? You do know that, right?”

“Yes I do. What’s the problem though? From what I hear, this Black Square League is...

“BLUE Square!”

“Sorry, Blue Square. From all accounts this Blue Square League should be one we win quite easily”.

I felt like doing what I’d done in Bob’s office the other day, namely standing up, leaning against the wall, and staring down at my shoes for inspiration. I didn’t want to do that in front of Erica though. As crazy as it sounds, Erica was still an attractive woman, and your sub-conscious tends to restrain you from performing slightly off-the-wall (no pun intended) behaviour in the company of attractive women.

“Erica, football doesn’t work like that! And what about the fact the wage expenditure is already well above 14k? I’ve made four signings already this summer, and I’ve got more in the pipeline due to be completed this coming week! I’ve even had the green light given to me for those signings!”

“Then I imagine they’ll go through” she replied irritably.

“Yeah, and after they’ve gone through we’re going to be operating around about the 23k mark! How in the hell do you expect me to get that down to 14k? It’s impossible!”

“Well you shouldn’t have gone on a spending spree in the first place! And let me tell you, a lot of people I’ve spoken to in the boardroom this week nearly had kittens when they found about this Michael Bridges joining the club”.

“Well why for crying out loud wasn’t the new budget sorted out back in May before I started signing people?”

She didn’t reply, instead flexing her fingers as if to say ‘no idea and I don’t really care’. Now I really did stand up. I didn’t go over to the wall though. Instead I went around to the back of my chair and leaned down hard on it. Erica remained unmoved, her expression as stoic as it had been when I’d first come in.

“Like I’ve told you before, James” she continued. “This is a business! It’s not a charity. Now I’ll be expecting you to reign in the budget over the coming months. You made some inroads last season once I’d read you the riot act. I’m sure you can do the same this time around. If not it’s going to count very badly towards you, and the word I hear is that you’re already skating on thin ice when it comes to this job”.

“You’re all heart, Erica”

“I’m not here to be nice. And you’re conveniently forgetting the fact I let you have Caroline Smith reinstated earlier this summer, despite the fact we’ve got very little need for an Archives Administrator. Yes that’s right, I was asked for a recommendation on that situation, as much as you might think you simply bypassed me and went straight to the chairman. That’s £200 a week right there and then we’re wasting for somebody we don’t even need. It's just not just the football side of the payroll which is a mess".

“Caroline does a good job, even if it is only part-time. She doesn’t just update the archiving either. She regularly covers other people’s duties when they're off sick”.

“And people covered her role just fine when she wasn’t here. She’s an expense we don’t need, so be grateful, because I know you’re all chummy down there in the communal offices. Believe me though I could have her sacked again tomorrow if I made the appropriate recommendation, just like that”.

Erica clicked her fingers to make the point.

“Oh come off it” I said.

“Nicky Willacy is on my radar too, you might be interested to know. The amount of errors in her payroll figures are beyond a joke. There’s a role sitting right there for a good junior accountancy graduate wanting to get some office experience, not some ambition-less distraction sitting around painting her nails and dating all the players”.

I made to reply again but thought better of it. Such was my sunken heart right now at the position regarding the wage budget I didn’t even have the capacity to get annoyed at the insults aimed at Caroline and Nicky. It was time to get going. This meeting had run its course.

“Like I said before, Erica, you’re all heart”.

Erica didn’t reply. I was free to walk out of the door. As soon as it was shut behind me and I was walking away down the corridor, I got on the phone to a certain football agent from Suffolk I’d been liaising with for most of the week.

“Igor, it’s James”.

“James! I’ve been waiting vor your call all morning”.

“Sorry, I was in a meeting. I’m afraid I’ve got bad news though. Please tell Mr Kishishev we’re not going to be able to meet his demands. I’m sorry”.

[ScottleeSV]

11/06/09 - The Blueprint

For all of last season, and for the majority of this pre-season, I’ve been allowed to offer a maxiumum wage of £3000 per week to anybody joining the club. As of yesterday however that figure was dramatically reduced by Erica to just £575 per week, which will make it very hard to bring in any more good acquisitions before the season starts. Lucky for me then I managed to sneak in three more new signings just before the change took effect.

My fifth new player of the summer is 30 year old central defender Tony James, signed on a free (as they all are) from Blue Square Premier side Burton Albion. James has spent his entire career in this division, making no less than 384 appearances for not only Burton but also Weymouth and Hereford. It was at the latter he made most of those appearances, spearheading the defence of the very formidable non-league Hereford side of the earlier part of the decade. James will compete with McCracken for the right to partner George Pilkington in central defence.

I’ve also brought in defensive midfielder Derek Niven from Chestefield, in theory to act as back-up for the midfield pairing of Nicholls and Keane. The 25 year old Scot, who I’ve agreed to pay £1300 per week, has made 219 appearances in the football league at both League One and League Two level. He’s also scored 16 goals in that time. I consider this a very good signing indeed. The arrival of Niven adds strength in depth to my midfield, and perhaps spells a big blow for youngster Richard Owusu’s hopes of breaking through this season.

Signing number seven (for the summer as a whole) is striker Dean Bowditch. This is a guy who has spent several years in the football league playing for such clubs as Burnley, Wycombe, and Brighton, and most recently, Ipswich. Bowditch is still only 23 years old and should be a very good player for the Blue Square Premier. In the trio of Bridges, Cadamateri, and Bowditch, it should be interesting to see who turns out to be the best. I’m reasonably satisfied with my forward line now, and I still have the two young lads Aiden Quinn and Brinsley Sheridan down in the reserves for times of emergency.

I haven’t announced it to the rest of the squad but I already have an idea in mind as to the likely starting eleven come the first day of the season. This may change depending on who performs well in training and of course the pre-season friendlies. For now though, this is the preliminary line-up below.

-------

GK – Dean Brill

DL – Richie Byrne

DR – Claude Gnakpa

DC – Tony James (NEW)

DC – George Pilkington

DMC – Kevin Nicholls

MC – Keith Keane

AML – Charlie Daniels (NEW)

AMR – Paul McVeigh

FC – Michael Bridges (NEW)

FC – Dean Bowditch (NEW)

S1 – Aaron Fletcher

S2 – George Beavon (NEW)

S3 – Derek Niven (NEW)

S4 – Richard Owusu

S5 – Danny Cadamateri (NEW)

S6 – Sol Davis

S7 – David McCracken (NEW)

S8 – Gareth O’Connor

S9 – Aiden Quinn

S10 – Brinsley Sheridan

------

A lot of new signings there, but with only four of them in the provisional first eleven I’m gambling I haven’t made enough of an overhaul to disrupt the fluency of the team. One complication I haven’t yet got my head around is the position in the team of Charlie Daniels. Apparently he’s a quality player; that’s why I signed him. I’ve learned since then however that he’s naturally a left back, and not a left winger as I was originally led to believe. He’s still accomplished on the left wing but he’s not a natural out there. I shall have to monitor his early season form very carefully to see how he does.

Because of this development I’ve decided to put seasoned left back Sol Davis on the transfer list. Davis in theory should be absolute quality in the Blue Square Premier, but with Richie Byrne and Charlie Daniels both naturals in that position, I could save £1500 per week on the wage expenditure sheet by showing Davis the door.

Despite Erica’s butchery of my budget, I still haven’t given up hope of making one or two more signings before the friendly matches get underway (albeit cheap ones). The only cover I have for Gnakpa at right back is George Pilkington, but that could potentially leave a gap in central defence. Pilkington isn’t even a natural at right back. We’re also weak on the right wing. McVeigh is okay but he gets knackered after an hour, and Gareth O’Connor is hardly an ideal substitute at the best of times. In short, I could possibly do with some more right sided players.

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

13/06/09 - Over-confidence

Halfway through my muesli this morning I got a phone call from Darren, beckoning me to jump in my car and head out to meet him at some random location out near the motorway. Apparently he’d got wind from a friend that a brand new Luton Town billboard had gone up, so he’d gone out to investigate. What he’d seen had then prompted him to call me and get me down to see it. He’d practically point blank refused to describe the billboard to me over the phone, so I’d known it was going to be bad.

It WAS bad. If Glynn’s previous effort with the blacked out manager had been premature in its implication I might be facing the chop, this new effort was premature in assuming we’d win the championship. There were five or six Luton players in the frame this time, all of them with looks on their faces suggesting the pictures were from when they’d been celebrating various goals from times gone by. To the side of the players was a shot of the Blue Square Premier Division trophy. At the top of the billboard, in large unmistakable lettering, were the words – “New Luton : Blue Square Premier Champions 2009/2010”. Beneath that was written "Come and see the glory unfold!"

“Darren, have I walked into a time warp where it’s next May and we’ve already won the title?”

“I don’t know, boss”.

“Do me a favour. Look, I’ve got training in an hour. If you’re not doing anything this morning, whip around the town for me and check all the billboard hotspots, see if this s__t has gone up everywhere else”.

“Billboard hotspots? I don’t know where....”.

“Oh leave it out Darren” I said, walking over to my car door. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that time Cheryl Cole had that autobiography billboard up everywhere, and you and your mates went around the town signing your initials on every single pair of her boobs. Please, just do this for me”.

“Alright” he sighed. “What are you going to do?”

“Like I said, I’ve got training. If I get time today though I’m going to bang on Glynn Edward’s door and see if I grab a word with him”.

I got in my car and drove off, intent on trying to catch Glynn before training whilst it was still fresh on my mind. It’s going to be hard enough curbing the expectations of fans this season, without putting it in their heads ourselves the title is a foregone conclusion. As I rolled into the car park next to Dilic’s Mercedez, I couldn’t help wondering if I should have got rid of Glynn at the same time I ousted Margaret. It hadn’t occurred to me at the time though, and I didn’t think Dilic would be all that keen to go back and review the terms of our deal.

Disappointingly Glynn was not in his office. I cursed loudly and walked off down the corridor. There was no time to wait for him. I would have to take training and deal with Glynn later. It probably wouldn’t do much good trying to reason with him anyway. I would probably get the same rubbish Bob and Erica had given me over the past couple of weeks. And besides, the billboards were already up now. The damage was already done (not that Glynn would look on it as ‘damage’).

My mood didn’t improve once I was in the changing rooms greeting the players. As I stood near the door lacing my boots up, I couldn’t help overhearing a conversation between George Pilkington and Keith Keane..

“Man, I can’t believe we’re training on a day as hot as this one” Keith said.

“Yeah I know” George replied. “What are we going do exactly, practice defensive formations for when the mighty Forest Green come calling?”

“Yeah I know” Keith chuckled. “You’re not going to have much to do in centre defence this season are you? Don’t worry though I’ll pass the ball back to you a few times during each match, give you a few touches”.

“Make sure you do because I’ve got the feeling I might nod in half of these matches this season”.

“Okay everyone!” I announced, turning around to face everyone.

One of my boots wasn’t yet laced, but I couldn’t cope with listening to any more of Keith and George’s rubbish. It was time to get down to some good honest-to-goodness rigorous training. Brian and I would soon knock the inner prima-donna out of anyone not fully aware of the challenges ahead. I was confident of that.

“Now then” I continued. “Before we get out there and start the warm-up drills, I just want to have a few very serious words with you about the league we’re playing in this season. Contrary to what you might think, this is a very high quality league. If we don’t work hard and if we don’t apply ourselves to the absolute maximum of what we’re capable of....”

I stopped short of my next word. I’d just noticed something rather disturbing. All the players were wearing different coloured boots. Michael Bridges had red boots on, Sol Davis yellow boots, Dean Brill green boots, Paul McVeigh orange boots, Kevin Nicholls white boots, and so on. There wasn’t a single pair of black boots in the room, lest you count mine and Brian’s wear. Perhaps the worst offender was Keith Keane, who unless my eyes were deceiving me was wearing pink football boots.

'Dammit Nicky' I thought.

“What the f__k are they?” I asked him, pointing down at his feet.

“New boots”.

“And what the f__k are the rest of you wearing?”

“We all went out on a kind of team-bonding session in town” said Kevin Nicholls. “We thought we’d get different coloured boots for this season, you know, as a brotherhood type thing, a bit like when Romania all got their hair dyed blonde in the world cup”.

“Is that right?” I asked.

“I kind of lucked out with the pink ones” Keith said, smiling in a slightly embarrassed fashion. “I don’t mind though. I let my football do the talking”.

“Luck my ass! I don’t even need to ask why you ended up with the pink ones, Keith. As for the rest of you, don’t you think you’re all going to look a bit pompous playing in all these ridiculous coloured boots? It’s going to look to everyone like you’re all expecting to waltz to the top of the league like some kind of fancy dan brigade”.

“Well we are aren’t we?” spoke Charlie Daniels. “It IS the non-league. We're not exactly expecting to lose much”.

I looked back at Charlie in stunned silence. I wasn’t sure what was called for here, a loud dressing down or a gentle lecture. Before I could make my mind up though Brian jumped in and told the players to head out onto the pitch.

“Thought I’d break up the awkward silence” he said apologetically, once the last of the players had trooped out past us.

“Brian” I replied. “We’ve got a big problem here, and I’m not just talking about the players, I’m talking about the whole ruddy club”.

[FlownCanary]

just spent little over a week reading this man, good work! I love the backstage story and I your write-up style is pretty awesome! I'm totally obsessed.

Also I'm glad Caroline got her job back, I remember her dressing as a goth, and as a goth myself, that was cool.

Shame Norwich were relegated, but I guess we should focus on Luton, ey? Good luck for the upcoming season!

(Any chance of you buying a canary? )

[Welwyn]

This whole storyline got a lot more real to life!

That exact culture is the reason we've actually started so poorly this year!

[salkster2102]

I'm amazed this story hasn't got onto the second page yet. This really is one of the top stories on the forum and I don't think it gets the praise it deserves. Good luck for this season. Slightly off topic but how are Halifax doing of late?

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks FlownCanary. It's an interesting idea, as I think Bambi could be getting lonely spending countless hours in the flat by herself. I'll think about that one

Welwyn, my resident 'realism consultant' As a devout follower of non-league football, I still think real life Luton will make the playoffs if you get your act together in the new year

Thanks a lot Salk. Halifax are 4th in the league but with significant games in hand on most of the teams around us. It feels weird being 4th because we've only lost 1 in 17 league games this season. I'm fairly confident we'll go up, but you never know with Fax

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

20/06/09 - R.I.P, Archives Administrator position

“Okie dokie then” I said to the rest of the office. “After a week of interviews and deliberation, I can now introduce to you all Luton Town’s new ticket administrator”.

I’d left the door to the offices open for maximum effect. Brenda, Nicky, Darren, and Caroline all looked in that direction now as if expecting the new person to enter that very moment. Nobody did though. I had deceived them.

“Well, where are they?” Brenda asked.

“Right there” I said, pointing to Caroline.

Everybody who wasn’t Caroline twisted around to look at her. Caroline meanwhile simply smiled and shrugged.

“It’s going to be Caroline?” Darren asked in amazement.

“No way!” said Nicky with a grin.

“Yes way” I replied. “Caroline will be starting Alison’s old job forthwith. As for the archiving, that work will be passed around as occasional overtime from now on. I’ve been under a bit of pressure recently to reduce not only the playing staff but also any other staff I can cut down on. No disrespect to Caroline when I say this, but I think we coped just fine during her off period. Archiving doesn’t generate the same workload all the other posts do; that’s why it was a part-time post in the first place”.

“But ticket administrator is a full time post” Brenda said to Caroline. “I thought you needed to be part time because of your university course?”

“I’ve quit it” Caroline answered. “That’s not as bad as it sounds though. I did complete two years of the course and I think that gets me what’s known as a ‘National Diploma of Education’. I think I get the certificate in August. To get the full degree you need to do three years but what I’ve got isn’t bad”.

“What was it you were studying?”

“Contemporary Pagan studies”.

“God they’ll let you do any old s__t at uni these days won’t they?” Darren chuckled.

“At least she went to uni, Darren!" I said firmly. "Anyway guys, there’s only two more things to be said here before we all knuckle back down to work. Number one – Caroline will be keeping her old desk because she’s fond of it and doesn’t want to move”.

“Why would she want to sit at that bitch’s desk anyway?” Nicky asked gesturing towards the place Alison used to sit at.

“Number Two” I said, cracking on without comment. “Caroline has in the past had experience of covering for Alison so nobody need worry about her competency”.

“But if you do get into trouble” Darren interrupted, winking at Caroline. “Just fall back on what you learned in Pagan Studies”.

“Darren!” said Nicky and Brenda together.

“What?” he said innocently. “I was just saying...”

I didn’t stop to hear it. I trundled back to my desk and checked my E-mails. I’d received two new ones during all the malarkey over Caroline. The first was from Glynn. He had finally responded to my recent E-mail rant over the new billboards.

Afternoon James.

I’m sorry you don’t like the new billboard. However, the number crunchers within the club are concerned crowds may drop alarmingly now that we’re no longer in the football league. I’ve been given carte blanche, as it were, to pull out all the stops on the marketing front to try and keep supporters coming through the turnstiles.

In so far as your ‘false advertisement’ point is concerned, I feel the new billboard is a statement of intent rather than a premature shout from the rooftops that we’ve already won the league. It is a slightly risky gimmick but so are all marketing campaigns. Nothing is ever a sure-fire winner in this business!

Going back to that carte blanche thing, I feel I should let you know in advance that I’m planning several more advertising initiatives over the forthcoming months. In fact, with my next one I’m going to need your assistance, and Mr Wharton assures me I will have your full co-operation. I don’t want to say too much at this stage but there’s a major new store opening in the town centre and I’m currently negotiating to have you, the Luton manager, there on opening day to cut the red ribbon and greet the crowd etc.

I’ll be back in touch soon. Feel free to knock on my door at anytime for a chat.

Regards

Glynn Edwards

Luton Town Marketing Manager

Whilst reading I’d noticed Darren come over to my desk out the corner of my eye. I looked up at him now.

“Glynn wants me to be the special guest at a store opening, but he’s not saying which one. Have you heard about any new stores opening in town?”

“Actually, yeah. There’s a new Anne Summers opening up down near errr....”

“Funny! What is it you want anyway?”

“I just came to ask if there’s been any news on the scouting front?”.

Last season I’d asked Darren if he’d ever thought about becoming a scout. He’d said he was interested so I’d pledged to talk to the other scouts and see if they could take Darren under their wing on a few trips out into the field.

“Not yet, but I haven’t forgotten you. It’s just a dodgy time right now because I’m getting heat over staff budgets, particularly on the playing side of things”.

“I wouldn’t want any money though. I thought initially it would just be a work experience thing”.

“Erica wouldn’t look at it that way though. She’d look at it as me setting you up in a position where you could demand an extra pay rise once you’d been doing it a few months. It wouldn't matter if you promised not to, either. Take it from me, I know the woman. She doesn’t deal in reality, Darren, she deals in permutations. It’s the accountant’s way”.

“Alright, no worries”.

He turned around to walk back to his desk.

“Hey” I called after him. “Don’t worry, I will strike when the time is right. I’m not going to forget to sort this out for you”.

“No worries, boss”.

I turned back to my monitor. The second E-mail was from Bob Wharton. He’d received the fixture list for the forthcoming season and was choosing today as the day to let me see it.

Hi James

Here are the fixtures. I’ve written the immediate ones down below for you. The full list can be found in the attached Microsoft Word document. As you can see, as far as the friendlies are concerned I’ve managed to get us a couple of games at conference opposition so you and the team and get used to the type of stuff you’re going to be up against this season. I’ve also managed to get some games at home to bigger teams so we can make a few readies.

(friendlies)

Northwich Victoria (away) – 13/07/09

Kettering (away) – 16/07/09

Birmingham City (home) – 19/07/09

Stoke City (home) – 24/07/09

Bristol City (home) – 29/07/09

Wolves (home) – 01/08/09

(league)

Woking (home) – 08/08/09

Oxford (away) – 11/08/09

Rushden (home) – 15/08/09

Histon (away) – 18/08/09

Stevenage (home) – 22/08/09

Crawley (away) – 29/08/09

Regards

Bob Wharton

I’m fairly content with the friendly fixtures, even if the abundance of visiting 'giants' might make it hard to get victories. We didn’t win a single friendly last summer and I don’t think it did morale any good going into the league campaign. With that in mind I’m going to go hell for leather this time around to make sure we at least beat Northwich and Kettering. If we don’t win either of those two, we’ll probably end up going a second straight summer without a warm-up win.

As for the league fixtures, I’m fairly content there too. Woking at home seems on paper a fairly winnable fixture to get us started, even if Oxford away in the game after that will be a severe test. The derby match at home to Stevenage on the 22nd should be interesting too. Luton and Stevenage are very close in terms of geography but have hardly ever met on the football field (to my knowledge anyway). This forthcoming season could potentially spark something in terms of rivalries. On a closing note, I was pleased to see we’re not going to be playing Steve Fairclough’s Wimbledon until at least November. I could do without the aggro for as long as possible on that one.