Luton Town : Staring into the Abyss

[ScottleeSV]

15/09/09 - The Red Rooms Part 2

“It sounds like you’ve had a bad run in life” Chantelle said, finishing her second pint.

“Not really. All that stuff happened a while ago now, and just how lucky was it winding up at a big club like Luton? Sometimes life goes for you and sometimes it goes against you. It just seems that for me anyway, it goes against me when it comes to women and for me when it comes to football”.

“Maybe the women bit will change” she replied, and I like to think I saw her bottom lip curl as she said it.

“Maybe. Anyway, what about you? Any recent tragedies to share?”

“Not like yours. I’ve been out with a bunch of t__ts mostly, and the last one was probably the worst”.

“How so?”

Before she could answer, the compere got back on the stage to introduce the night’s fourth act. It had taken two and a half intervals to tell my Charlotte tale, and I was glad it was over really. I reckoned I’d gone on and on about my own life far too much tonight.

“Before we move onto our next act, I have a special announcement to make. It was pointed out to me during the latest interval that we have a special guest amongst us this evening. Does anybody know who that might be?”

It quickly became clear the compere was referring to yours truly. About fifteen heads all looked in my direction the moment he posed the question; and one guy not too far away decided to actually answer it.

“James Martin!” he shouted out.

“Yes indeed! If you look over to the table by the far wall, you’ll be able to see the Luton Town manager James Martin! For all you ladies who don’t follow football, James is the dark haired guy sitting next to the young blonde”.

Amongst many mumblings and craning of necks, I waved politely to everyone and smiled. By my side Chantelle put her arm through the gap between my closest arm and my waist. She seemed happy that I’d been spotted.

“Anyway” continued the tuxedoed compere. “James will no doubt be hoping to lead the mighty Hatters back to the Football League this season, so I’m sure everyone here at The Red Rooms will give him a healthy dose of encouragement”.

A round of applause broke out. I held my hand up in shy acknowledgment and took a sip of my drink.

“Okay then, back to the comedy. We had to travel far and wide to discover our next act, so please welcome, all the way from Hemel Hempstead – Lee Winters!”

“You’ll have to tell me about those t__ts of yours in the next interval” I whispered in Chantelle’s ear.

“Don’t worry” she laughed. “I will”.

Before anybody could do anything however, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Had it been Brian or Darren or Brenda, or even Dilic, I might have ignored it. It’s not every day though I get a call from Everton manager David Moyes.

“I need to take this” I whispered in my date’s ear. “I’ll be right back”.

She nodded quickly and kept her eyes on the stage. I reckoned I’d picked a good time to take a call anyway. This latest comedian – Lee Winters – seemed to be taking an awful long time to get his first laugh.

“David” I said, once I was outside in the lobby. “Before you say anything, can I just say that I am absolutely thrilled by how Scott Spencer is performing for us at Luton? I’m very grateful you let us take him on loan. If you’re calling up to offer me another nugget like him, I might just have to add you to my Christmas card list”.

“No can do” he replied in a bleak Scottish tone. “I’m afraid it’s with bad tidings I call this evening, not good ones. I really appreciate the work you’ve done with Scott but I need to recall him back to Everton as soon as possible”.

It just couldn’t happen could it? I just couldn’t come on a night out like this without at least one major thing going wrong for me

“Why do you need him back?” I asked in disbelief. “You actually need him to play for you?”

“Not for us. We’re going to take him back off you and loan him out to a football league side, maybe someone in The Championship or League One. I’ve been impressed by his success at your lot and now I want to try him out at a higher level. I’m sorry James but I have to make this call for the good of Everton Football Club, you know that”.

“Yeah I guess” I said softly, failing miserably to hide my disappointment.

“Look, I’m not one to shaft a fellow manager. We agreed an initial period of three months for the loan so I’m going to let Scott finish that out with you, even though if I wanted to I could recall him right now. Is that fair enough of me, James?”

“Actually that’s very kind of you, David. That should at least give us a few more games with him”.

“Good man. I appreciate you being good about this. If anything comes up that I think you might be interested in, I’ll give you a call, okay?”

“Okay, David. Not a problem”.

When the call was over I elected to go and spend a few minutes in the men’s toilets before heading back. I had a face like thunder and I wanted to splash some water over it. Scott Spencer’s time as a Luton hero was evidently was all done and dusted. My date with Chantelle though still had a chance of ending as a success. There was no point ruining the second of those things just because the first had come unstuck.

The audience were all talking to each other when I walked back into the room, indicating to me that Lee Winters’ time on stage was already completed. I sat down next to my date and locked eyes with her.

“That was just some irrelevant piece of Luton business” I explained. “Where’s the comedian gone?”

“He only lasted a few minutes. He was absolutely rubbish, and nobody was laughing at all. Then a guy at the back started heckling him so he finished the joke he was on and excused himself”.

“There was a heckler, and he was at the back?” I followed up. “He didn’t happen to be really fat by any chance did he? The heckler I mean”.

“Actually yeah he was, but I think he was asked to leave by the barman at the same time the comedian left the stage”.

I glanced behind me anyway and then switched my eyes back to Chantelle. Our arms weren’t linked anymore and I reckoned I had some work to do to get things back to the way they’d been before the call. Chantelle though rescued the situation all by herself (if indeed it had ever needed rescuing in the first place).

“There’s only one more act” she said. “Do you fancy going somewhere else, maybe to a normal bar? Then we can chat normally. I think they might have reached the crap acts they leave till’ the end now anyway”.

“Yeah that sounds good”.

It’s usually a good sign if a woman wants to move on to some other place. With this in mind, I offered Chantelle my hand as we stood up and the risk bore fruit. She gladly took hold of it and we walked out of the room interlinked, the issue of Scott Spencer’s impending departure for now on ice.

[cambo]

I have to say this is an awesome story. You really have to write a book. I would buy it for sure.

Keep it up.

[Dickie12]

Me 2!!!! I'd buy this one if u published it!!!

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks Cambo, Dickie. I appreciate that guys.

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18/09/09 - The empowering philosophy

My visit to the office on Friday was brief. I’d just finished morning training and needed to nip to my desk to grab something, namely the post-it note with the address of my doctor’s surgery on it (I’d registered with them the previous day over the phone). As gross as it sounds, I had a particularly nasty scab on my foot and wanted a professional opinion. I don’t take chances these days when it comes to matters of legs and feet.

“Morning, James” said Brenda, as I walked in.

I think they all might have said good morning actually; hard to tell when several different voices speak at the same time.

“Morning everyone” I replied. “I’m not staying. I’m off to the doctors to get my leg looked at – nothing serious, just precautionary”.

“Before you go you can try one of my buns” said Nicky, approaching me from her desk.

My first thought here was that the Nickster seemed back to her imperious best. She was smiling widely and carrying a little cardboard saucer with a bun on it.

“You’ve been cooking, Nicky?” I asked, grabbing the post-it note with one hand and accepting Nicky’s bun with the other.

“Yep! Me and Sally spent all last night making buns. We got the recipe out of this book. It’s all part of our new self-empowering philosophy”.

“Your new what?”

“Our new self-empowering philosophy. We got that out of a book too. Actually, that was from a magazine. Anyway, it’s basically a state of mind where you no longer let men rule your existence”.

“So as part of this new....philosophy thing, you’re cooking buns?”

“Yeah, well, who makes the buns that they sell in supermarkets? Men! So, we decided last night to make our own”.

“Men make a lot of different foods, Nicky. Surely you’re not intending to make all your own food from now on?”

“Nope, just the buns. It’s a symbolic thing”.

I was just about to point out that MEN may have been the ones to MAKE and PROFIT from the INGREDIENTS no doubt packed into Nicky’s buns, but I decided not to bother. Instead I raised the bun to my mouth and prepared to try it.

As I was about to do this, I noticed Darren producing some strange body language from over at his desk. He was grimacing and repeatedly pretending to slice his own throat with his finger. Brenda meanwhile was subtly shaking her head from side to side. I couldn’t see if Caroline was doing anything because Nicky’s gorgeous form was blocking the way.

“Well, go on then!” she said, egging me on to put it in my mouth.

“Hmmm!” I said, doing just that and beginning to chew. “It’s very nice”.

I was lying. It wasn’t nice at all. It wasn’t quite bad enough to spit out, but I certainly wouldn’t want another one. I can’t put my finger on what was wrong with it; it just seemed weird-tasting. There was too much flour in it for one thing. Nicky annoyingly waited until I’d eaten every last mouthful and then tottered off back to her desk.

“Aren’t they lovely?” asked Caroline with a sarcastic grin. “We’ve already had ours”.

“Yes they’re very nice” I replied, standing up to leave. “My compliments to the chef”.

Nicky though wasn’t finished. Just as I was walking around the outside of my desk to get to the door, she cut me off. This time she was clutching an even bigger plate of buns.

“Here, there’s four more here. Take them with you. Maybe you can have some throughout the day? I need to get rid of them because they won’t stay fresh for much longer”.

“Why don’t you just share them out with everyone else instead?” I enquired, taking hold of the large cardboard plate anyway.

“They’ve already got extra ones. I brought about thirty in total”.

To these words Caroline lifted a hidden plate up from behind her monitor, a plate containing another four buns. Brenda merely pointed to her catchment, where as Darren just grinned and showed nothing. I guessed he had four uneaten extra buns stashed away somewhere though.

“Okay then” I said after consideration. “I guess I’m taking the buns. Thanks, Nicky. I shall eat them throughout the day and think of you when I do. Cheerio, everyone. Enjoy your buns”.

With that I opened the door, everyone mumbling decidedly unenthusiastic goodbyes as I did so. Outside, about ten yards up the corridor from the door to the communal offices, there’s a small dustbin. As I approached it I had every intention of tipping the buns into the bin without breaking stride. However, just as my left arm was veering away from my body to deploy its payload, I heard the communal door open behind me, so quickly retracted it.

It was Nicky.

“One more thing!” she said. “The Colchester manager called up before. The call bounced through to me though because Brenda was in the toilet”.

Yeah, puking the bun up probably

“Really? What did he want?”

“He wanted to talk to you about Jamie Guy. Apparently, his loan period is coming to an end and he wanted to....Oh, let me think what it was”.

“He wanted to know if I want to renew the deal?” I suggested.

“No, that wasn’t it. Oh! I remember now. Yeah, he wanted to tell you that Colchester needs him back next month and that after that he’s not going to be available for loan anymore”.

“Oh. Cosmic. Thanks, Nicky”.

“You’re welcome”.

Nicky shuffled her body back through the door and closed it behind her. Forget the art of carefully placing the buns in the bin – I now fully intended to ram the damn things inside it with as much force as I could muster. Jamie Guy had been a key player (and so had Spencer for that matter!). I couldn’t believe both parent clubs wanted them back!

Just as I was about to raise my throwing arm back as far as it would go, Nicky appeared yet again, forcing me to abort.

“Oh, one more thing” she said. “Try putting some marmalade on those if you’ve got any at home - works for me”.

“Cool, I’ll give it a go” I replied, and now I just walked off down the corridor in full abandonment of the abandonment, the plate of buns seemingly forever destined to remain in my possession.

F__king Colchester

[ScottleeSV]

18/09/09 - The art of cramming

On my way to the car I decided to stop in at the souvenir shop.

“Guys?” I said loudly, pushing the door open. “I thought I’d bring you some buns”.

In response all I got was a ‘shusssh’ from Lee. He was sat opposite Cyril at the deathmatch table, clutching a bunch of homemade question cards. Cyril meanwhile had his head placed delicately between two outstretched fingers, one from either hand. His eyes were all squinted and he almost had the pose of somebody trying to do telepathy.

“Seventeen thousand one hundred and fifty six” he eventually said.

“Correct” Lee informed him. “How about game seven?”

“Eight thousand four hundred and fifty seven”.

“Correct. Game eight?”

“Twelve thousand nine hundred and sixty six”.

“No, not that time. You’re two out. The attendance for game eight that season was actually twelve thousand nine hundred and sixty four. Close, mind!”

Close didn’t cut it with Cyril though, who responded to getting one wrong by clambering out of his chair and screaming at the ceiling.

“You!” he then shouted in my direction. “Don’t you know I’m revising for the most important match of my life? I can’t cope with these pointless interruptions!”

“Now to be fair, it’s not James’ fault” Lee said, himself now rising from his seat. “That’s three you’ve got wrong today now. You’re on edge. You need to relax”.

“How I can relax when the deathmatch is just five days away?”

“Is that right?” I asked, putting the plate of buns down on the table. “The date’s been set now?”

“Yep” Cyril confirmed, looking thoroughly miserable behind his black-rimmed spectacles. “It’s taking place next Wednesday night at that damn school hall – 7.45pm kick off. So basically, me and Lee have got five more days in business and then we’ll be forced to leave here. I can’t believe I made that stupid bet in the first place”.

“Why so negative? You can beat Albie, surely?”

“Not if you listen to logic. Think about it – you beat me and Albie beat you. That means that Albie should theoretically beat me; it’s the way of the food chain”.

“Don’t talk daft!” I exclaimed. “It just so happens that I....got lucky... when I beat you. Anything can happen in a one-off cup tie”.

“Oh I don’t buy that! I’m doomed, I’m telling you. Doooooooomed”.

“Where did you get these buns from?” Lee asked, sitting back down and rubbing his stomach.

As I twisted around to answer him, my head banged against a storm trooper helmet dangling from the ceiling. I could have sworn that wasn’t up the last time I’d been here.

“Oh, help yourself if you want. Nicky from the office made them”.

The entire mood of the room shifted dramatically after I said this. Lee gasped and lowered his head to get a better look at the buns, where as Cyril immediately returned to his seat to do much the same thing.

“Nicky made them? Really?”

“Err, yeah, as it happens. Why?”

Neither answered, instead opting to giggle under their breath for a few seconds like a real life Beavis and Butthead.

“She’s nice” Lee said with a grin.

“Yeah, really nice” agreed Cyril.

‘They’re definitely not gay then. Darren, you were way off on this one’

“Just think” Lee continued, putting his finger close to the bun nearest to him. “Nicky made these buns with her own hands”.

“I know” said Cyril with a completely straight face. “Hard to believe really”.

“I didn’t know you guys knew her” I stated.

“We don’t, but we’ve seen her walking across the car park a few times. We keep thinking she might come into the shop but she never does”.

“Fancy that. So have these buns cheered you up then Cyril?”

“No. Well, maybe a little bit. Any team news for tomorrow whilst you’re here?”

“If you can keep it to yourselves, yes. I’m going to give Taylor a game on the wing tomorrow instead of Cadamateri - I don’t want the young lad going cold. I’m also playing Keane at right back because Gnakpa’s come down with some kind of stomach bug. I know Pilkington should really be the replacement but I don’t want to break up the Pilko-James pairing at centre back when they’re looking so formidable. Gill will take Keane’s place in centre midfield”.

“Sounds like a reasonable side, I suppose”.

“Apart from Keane at right back, yes. Touch wood though we’ll still be too much for Mansfield at home”.

I hadn’t told anyone the news about Guy and Spencer yet, and I wasn’t about to make Cyril the first. He was far too on edge. Anyway, I still had a few games to go before the recalls kicked in. No need to panic yet.

“Right then” I said in a slightly louder tone. “I’ll be going then. I only came in to give you the buns. Good luck next Wednesday if I don’t see you before then. I’ll be in the audience most likely”.

Cyril waved an acknowledging hand in my direction but didn’t look at me, choosing instead to keep his eyes on the buns.

“Bye” said Lee.

I stepped outside and shut the door to. Then I checked my phone. I’d been swapping texts with Chantelle for most of the morning, but at the moment we seemed to be going through a break in the passage of play. No big deal though – we had a second date lined up for Sunday, that was the main thing. As I slowly walked away from the cabin I wondered whether it might be an idea to also invite her to the deathmatch.

‘That’s not a bad idea actually. We could have a few beers, take in the deathmatch, maybe move on to a takeaway somewhere’

From behind me I could just about make out the sound of Lee and Cyril resuming their practice.

“Okay then, same season but this time I want the referees. Game one?”

“Tim Green”.

“Correct. Game two?”

“Fred Whitehouse”.

“Correct. Game three?”

‘Then again, it would probably be dating-suicide. Nah, maybe not'.

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

Next from the Blue Square Premier - Luton (1st) v Mansfield (14th)

[ScottleeSV]

19/09/09, League Match 10

Luton Town v Mansfield Town

GK – Dean Brill (60 apps, 0 goals)

DL – Richie Byrne (7 apps, 0 goals)

DR – Keith Keane (51 apps, 4 goals)

DC – Tony James (9 apps, 0 goals)

DC – George Pilkington (55 apps, 0 goals)

DMC – Kevin Nicholls (37 apps, 10 goals)

MC – Matthew Gill (18 apps, 0 goals)

ML – Charlie Daniels (9 apps, 2 goals)

MR – Michael Taylor (5 apps, 0 goals)

FC – Scott Spencer (9 apps, 6 goals)

FC – Jamie Guy (9 apps, 4 goals)

If Mansfield had any intention of playing like every other away side has done at Kenilworth Road this season, it probably went out of the window after just five minutes. George Pilkington lofted an aimless ball forward but Spencer managed to get a timely flick-on to set Jamie Guy away. Defender D’Laryea was favourite to get the ball first but reckoned without Guy’s pace. In the battle of the shoulders which followed, Guy won and took the ball into a goal-scoring position just inside the area. He then slotted low and left past goalkeeper Tomlinson into the corner to give us the perfect start. Goal!

The Stags though are a fairly big club at this level. They’d also only lost two out of nine matches coming into this fixture. It wasn’t a great surprise then to see them charge back at us in an attempt to make a game of it. Right back Mtandari proved the architect for the next chance, bombing down the right hand side and exposing Byrne for pace. The cross was more of a sand wedge than a drive but landed perfectly on the head of Convery at the back stick. Sadly for him the header went a foot over the bar under pressure from Gnakpa.

In the 10th minute it was Mtandari again, doing exactly the same thing only this time whipping a ball in under the crossbar. Pilkington, correctly guessing that Brill wouldn’t get to it, was forced to slide in at the back post and knock the ball behind for a corner. It was nervy stuff during this period but once the corner had come to nothing, we managed to largely regain control of the game. In regards to Mtandari’s runs, Byrne quickly learnt his lesson and stayed mostly in a defensive position.

Jamie Guy is a confident player right now. He’s been getting quicker and deadlier with every match he’s started this season. After 18 minutes he almost grabbed his second goal of this particular game, firing a yard wide after an intricate build-up involving Nicholls and Pilkington. I was pleased to spot Happy Harry mooching around behind the goal in the aftermath of this attack – good to see last week’s experience against Ebbsfleet hadn’t put him off coming back and fulfilling his promise.

We were beginning to get ahead of steam now. Six minutes later Michael Taylor hit a free kick narrowly wide. Not long after that, Matthew Gill went across to the far side to take an attacking throw-in. His loopy throw into the penalty area was seized upon by a very alert Scott Spencer. Defender Hurren spotted the danger a fraction too late and comprised by yanking Spencer’s shirt, prompting the referee to whistle for a penalty before anybody from our side had even needed to appeal for it.

The Kenilworth Road faithful are so used to seeing Kevin Nicholls score penalties, they were practically celebrating even before he’d put the ball down here. That was a mistake, because Nicholls firm low shot was too close to the centre of the goal. Goalkeeper Tomlinson blocked the shot with his leg and the rebound came back towards Nicholls too quickly for him to react. The ball ricocheted off his knee and into the crowd of players behind him, from whence it was eventually cleared to safely.

This setback could have turned the game on its head. Indeed it might have done for all I know but for the lovely run of Byrne just three minutes later. He practically whizzed down the left wing like the roadrunner before slipping the ball into Daniels, who was marginally infield. Daniels crossed one in first time and there was Spencer between two defenders to power a bullet header past Tomlinson to render the penalty miss completely moot. Tellingly, the first person to congratulate Spencer was a relieved looking Kevin Nicholls.

Mansfield had it all to do now, but in the 40th minute they at least created a chance. It was simple in its concoction; a long ball over the top sent former premiership striker Akinbiyi into space, and his pace took him away from the defence. Unfortunately for him though his final touch before entering the penalty area was a poor one, taking him away from the goal instead of towards it. He did attempt to pull the ball back into the area but nobody was there, and Tony James managed to get control of the ball and puncture the attack.

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

Half time – Luton 2 Mansfield 0

Martin mood’o’meter – completely at ease with the world

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

My half-time tactic today was to remind the players of past occasions we’ve been comfortably in front only to then get battered at the start of the second half. It must have gone down well because we came out of the blocks for part two with a great deal of fire in our bellies. In the 47th minute a corner from Nicholls was headed away only as far as Charlie Daniels, who used that delicious left peg of his to thunder one just over the crossbar.

The next attempt came just as I was pondering my substitutions. A lazy ball by Kevin Nicholls might have been intercepted by Hurren, but he in turn then dawdled and lost the ball to Jamie Guy. From here Guy took the ball into the penalty area on his least favoured left foot and also from a slight angle. The eventual shot went across the goalkeeper but was just slightly too high, and cleared the crossbar by about two feet. As Tomlinson retrieved the ball for the goal kick, I brought Buckley on for Taylor.

A strange thing happened next. Around about the hour mark, I realised the Luton fans were singing a song about me! They were singing ‘James Bruce Martin’s Barmy Army’ on repeat over and over again. In all the time I’ve been at this club, today is the first time that has ever happened. I suppose it was a simple bi-product of us being on the threshold of a sixth consecutive victory. Very nice to hear though!

With Taylor now in the showers, Keith Keane went back to his free kick responsibilities after 66 minutes. His effort, though on target, was deflected wide for a corner. Three minutes later Somner had one up the other end for Mansfield. His though went nowhere near the goal or the wall, much to the derision of the home faithful. Having said that, a lot of people were still too busy singing the song about me to contribute to the jeering.

There came a big moment in the 73rd minute. I’d just finished bringing Gnakpa and Cadamateri on when Akinbiyi managed to grab hold of a long ball and race through on Brill for the second time in the match. I thought he might score this time but comically his touch took him too wide again. The move wasn’t dead though. The much travelled striker again pulled the ball back blindly and this time it paid off, as Basham was sprinting into the penalty area to offer support. Basham smacked the ball without breaking stride and Brill somehow pulled off a magnificent instinct save on the line, keeping the ball out so Pilkington could clear. That was pure class.

The missed opportunity didn’t entirely deflate the visitors but they didn’t create any other good openings. The impressive Mtundari curled a free kick just wide in the 84th minute and that was just about their bacon cooked for the day. Down the other end, Keith Keane also had a free kick opportunity four minutes after that (his second of the afternoon), but as before his effort hit the wall and went out for a corner.

Just as the linesman was signalling for five minutes of added time, a later corner was met by the head of central defender Tony James. Alas, he was just over with it and that was the final opportunity of the match. The supporters were very happy with what in essence had been yet another comfortable victory. They applauded all the players down the tunnel and so did Brian and I. The run-out song had been true to its word – things had definitely got better this season (so far anyway).

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

FINAL SCORE (Att - 5954)

Luton Town 2 (Guy 5, Nicholls m/p 34, Spencer 37)

Mansfield Town 0

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(other results)

AFC Wimbledon 6-1 Droylsden

Burton 2-1 Kidderminster

Crawley 2-0 Macclesfield

Ebbsfleet 3-1 Northwich

Histon 2-2 Grays

Kettering 2-1 Tamworth

Oxford 1-0 Cambridge

Rushden 1-0 York City

Stevenage 0-0 Salisbury

Weymouth 0-0 Forest Green

Woking 1-0 St Albans

| Pos   | Inf   | Team          |       | Pld   | Won   | Drn   | Lst   | For   | Ag    | G.D.  | Pts   | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 1st   |       | Luton         |       | 10    | 8     | 2     | 0     | 22    | 8     | +14   | 26    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 2nd   |       | Rushden       |       | 10    | 7     | 1     | 2     | 20    | 8     | +13   | 22    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 3rd   |       | Burton        |       | 10    | 6     | 1     | 3     | 17    | 14    | +3    | 19    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 4th   |       | York          |       | 10    | 5     | 3     | 2     | 13    | 5     | +9    | 18    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 5th   |       | Cambridge     |       | 10    | 5     | 3     | 2     | 14    | 8     | +6    | 18    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 6th   |       | Forest Green  |       | 10    | 5     | 3     | 2     | 12    | 6     | +6    | 18    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 7th   |       | Crawley       |       | 10    | 6     | 0     | 4     | 19    | 16    | +2    | 18    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 8th   |       | AFC Wimbledon |       | 10    | 5     | 2     | 3     | 19    | 10    | +9    | 17    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 9th   |       | Stevenage     |       | 10    | 4     | 5     | 1     | 16    | 14    | +2    | 17    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 10th  |       | Oxford        |       | 10    | 5     | 1     | 4     | 17    | 11    | +6    | 16    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 11th  |       | Grays         |       | 10    | 4     | 3     | 3     | 15    | 10    | +5    | 15    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 12th  |       | Ebbsfleet     |       | 10    | 4     | 3     | 3     | 13    | 11    | +2    | 15    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 13th  |       | Weymouth      |       | 10    | 3     | 5     | 2     | 14    | 11    | +3    | 14    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 14th  |       | Salisbury     |       | 10    | 3     | 5     | 2     | 14    | 13    | +1    | 14    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 15th  |       | Mansfield     |       | 10    | 3     | 4     | 3     | 16    | 19    | -3    | 13    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 16th  |       | Histon        |       | 10    | 2     | 6     | 2     | 14    | 12    | +2    | 12    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 17th  |       | Woking        |       | 10    | 2     | 3     | 5     | 8     | 11    | -3    | 9     | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 18th  |       | Kettering     |       | 10    | 2     | 3     | 5     | 12    | 17    | -5    | 9     | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 19th  |       | Droylsden     |       | 10    | 2     | 2     | 6     | 15    | 24    | -9    | 8     | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 20th  |       | Tamworth      |       | 10    | 2     | 2     | 6     | 7     | 16    | -9    | 8     | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 21st  |       | Northwich     |       | 10    | 2     | 1     | 7     | 7     | 22    | -15   | 7     | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 22nd  |       | St Albans     |       | 10    | 1     | 3     | 6     | 7     | 18    | -11   | 6     | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 23rd  |       | Kidderminster |       | 10    | 1     | 2     | 7     | 12    | 22    | -10   | 5     | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 24th  |       | Macclesfield  |       | 10    | 1     | 1     | 8     | 6     | 22    | -16   | 4     | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 

[pooman2279]

Really enjoying this, good work. What a result for Wimbledon! I know it was only Droylsden but still

Also as a Notts County fan great to see Mansfield get confortably beaten

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks, Pooman. I had no idea by the way Notts County and Mansfield were rivals; you learn something new every day

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

20/09/09 - Gorilla killer

Tonight was my second date with Chantelle. I took her to the cinema, although you’d think I might have taken her out for dinner or something wouldn’t you, especially on the money I earn? The truth is, I hate going out to expensive restaurants with women I don’t know very well. It’s not the expense that bothers me, more the feeling of stuffiness and having to sit with a straight back. Everything is all posh and new, and full of etiquette you don’t normally use.

If I’m in a long-lasting relationship, I’m quite happy to go to restaurants. In fact I really enjoy doing it too. By that point in the union I feel comfortable and at ease with the person sitting across from me. I feel I can relax and enjoy it without worrying that my obvious lack of experience in such places might be making me look like a dweeb. Obviously Chantelle and I are still a long way from the settled couple stage, so for now I’ll stick to comedy clubs, bars, and cinemas, places I can relax and be myself in.

We went for a quick drink before heading to Cineworld, as it was called. Chantelle once again dressed conservatively but impressively, and I once again found a sneaky excuse to buy the drinks without making it look like I was showing off. I won’t repeat every conversation we had but we did have an interesting one about the structure of our getting to know each other (for the want of a simpler expression).

“These meetings we’re having feel old-fashioned” she said. “First the comedy club and now the cinema, it just feels very old fashioned. I don’t mean those places themselves; I mean the whole thing of going on an official date and picking a place to go beforehand”.

“Yeah I was thinking something along those lines on the way here. Do you think that’s a bad thing?”

“No, just pointing it out. It actually makes a change from the way I used to meet guys. Every guy I’ve ever been out with I’ve just met them normally without thinking about it, like out clubbing, or maybe they were hanging out with a mate and I met them that way”.

“At least we’ve got mobile phones” I replied. “In the really old fashioned days, I would have had to call your landline to ask you out. Then your mum probably would have answered it and I’d have had to ask her if you were in, and that would felt really awkward”.

“I don’t live with my mum though, I rent a flat. Are you old enough to remember those days where you could only use landlines?”

She was smiling as she asked this and I instantly regretted mentioning the landline thing as a result. I don't want to provide a reminder every five minutes that I'm an old fuddy-duddy of almost thirty one years of age.

“Just about old enough, yeah. Mobiles got big around about the time I was nineteen. I had my first girlfriend at sixteen, so yeah I do have memories of having to negotiate my way past suspicious-sounding parental figures over the phone”.

-----

The film we went to see was called Death Count. It didn’t look very good on the face of it, but there wasn’t much else on. Death Count is basically a horror film about a psychopath who traps a bunch of people in a leisure complex by locking all the doors and gates. Then he goes around slaughtering them all with a variety of weapons like knives, hammers, golf clubs, and even a chainsaw. Presumably to hide his identity, the psycho wears a plastic (and very hairy) gorilla mask for the exercise.

If you’re wondering by the way how a chainsaw would find its way into a leisure complex, the writers provide a neat if unlikely explanation. You see, in the story anyway, the bushes outside the leisure centre’s swimming pool wing are undergoing an extensive trimming program. This involves the use of you guessed it, a chainsaw. Naturally, whoever was doing the trimming on the morning of the massacre was unprofessional enough to leave the chainsaw next to one of the bushes instead of pack it away in the shed. And who finds the implement before anybody else in the film? You guessed it, the gorilla killer.

By the end of the movie, there are only two good people left standing. One of them is a gorgeous looking brown haired girl called Andrea. The other is her not-quite-yet-boyfriend-but-getting-there, by the name of Andy. Unfortunately for Andy, he’s down on the ground and needing urgent medical attention after a nasty thrust from the chainsaw. It’s thus left to Andrea to kill the gorilla killer, which she does by impaling him with a javelin on one of the indoor badminton courts. My final thought on the film as I left the screening was that at least the killer’s death would mean no sequel.

“What do you think of that?” I asked, as we headed off for another drink.

“I suppose it was entertaining enough. It’s weird how it was filmed in Watford though. That’s not far from Luton. A mate of mine reckons she’s been to the leisure centre where it was filmed. She says some of the people you see die in the film were actually employees of the leisure centre who’d never acted before”.

“Well you could tell it was a cheap film. British films usually are”.

------

Writing this in my bedroom less than an hour after I said goodnight to her, I think I have a good idea now as to the type of person Chantelle is. She’s a very matter-of-fact girl, very streetwise, calm. She’s comfortable with how she looks (with admittedly good reason), comfortable around men, comfortable out and about. She’s happy to have a go at any type of conversation, and she doesn’t seem to ever get awkward or fidgety. She doesn’t change the tone of her voice very often either, although I’m not sure if I should count that as a good thing.

On the whole though I still like her and I’m still very keen to keep pursuing this. I became even keener outside the second bar we went to because for the first time ever we accomplished something important – we shared a kiss, the passionate kind. It worked well and it left me wanting more, not that I pushed my luck. Even more important than the kiss, arguably, I now feel confident enough in what’s happening between us to invite her to the deathmatch on Wednesday.

I won’t even have to use a landline to make the play. Who said modern life is rubbish?

[ScottleeSV]

22/09/09 - Are we worth our salt?

For such a small town (population 19000 approx) it was surprisingly easy to keep myself occupied in Northwich this afternoon. The first thing I did was visit the town’s salt museum, the only one of its kind in Britain. It wasn’t a very exciting place but it did at least absolve an hour of my time. I learned quite a bit about salt whilst I was there, as well as the fact Northwich has apparently been a goldmine for salt-mining ever since the Roman times. I’m surprised the football team isn’t nicknamed ‘The Saltmen’ actually.

After leaving there I grabbed some lunch from the town centre and took it to Marbury Country Park, part of the Northwich Community Woodlands. I spent a great deal of time here walking around in the peaceful surroundings gathering my thoughts. The only thing missing was Bambi, and maybe Chantelle too just for extra company. It was a hot day outside, perhaps one of the last we’ll get now that September is beginning to drift towards October.

Incidentally, I got a text from Chantelle today. I didn’t prompt her beforehand so to receive it was most satisfying..

Heya. How r u? Looking forward to 2moro night. Just wanted 2 say good luk in your match 2nite xx

Northwich Victoria Football Club has struggled greatly in recent years. They’ve moved stadiums, been in administration (twice), and also been relegated only to bounce straight back again. If that wasn’t bad enough, they’ve been involved a long running battle with a local businessman over the continued right to play at The Victoria Stadium, the ground they moved to from the old Drill Field. Last season they’ve finished 9th, perhaps indicating they were ready to move past the worst of their problems.

Unfortunately, so far this season they appear to have gone backwards again. Going into tonight’s game they sit in 21st place with just seven points from ten games, and personally I thought they looked awful when we played them in pre-season. That game might have ended 1-1 but we absolutely dominated it from start to finish. On another day it could have been 4-0 or 4-1 to us. I’m very confident of getting things right second time around.

On the subject of Luton’s opening ten games, I can’t really have asked for more. To have the record we have and sit top by four points at this stage is excellent. We’re looking strong all over the pitch, and teams who play us seem scared to death right from the first whistle. We’ve won six games in a row now and I just want to keep this momentum going for as long as possible. We’re bound to have a sticky spell at some point, so when it comes I’d like to be far enough out in front for it not to matter.

It was ironic that Guy and Spencer should get the goals at the weekend. Both players will leave us sometime next month and that presents a problem. After lengthy consultation with Brian though, I’ve decided to only bring in one player to replace them. We’ve got an excellent striker in Dean Bowditch currently sidelined through injury; he’s due back at the turn of the new year. We’ve also got Bridges, Cadamateri, and if needs be, Will Buckley. One more loan acquisition on top of that will give us four strikers (five after Dean’s return), and that should be enough.

Three changes to the starting line-up for tonight. Firstly, I’m very pleased to have Claude Gnakpa back. This means Keane can move into his preferred central midfield slot at the expense of Matthew Gill. I’m also bringing in Cadamateri for Taylor on the right wing and Bridges for Spencer up front. In regards to the latter, I’ve done this because I want to get Bridges sharp and in the goals for when Spencer and Guy go back to their parent clubs. If worst comes to the worst and Bridges pulls up injured again, or if he simply has a stinker, I’ve always got Spencer as an option on the bench.

The Victoria Stadium is small but very nice to look at. The playing surface is an absolute gem, the other facilities both new and modern looking. As the match approached kick-off, I’d say there were about 400 home fans in the ground and 600 from Luton. That’s only a guess from glancing around though. Until the official figure comes over the tannoy you just never know, and even then it doesn’t tell you how many are home fans and how many are away fans.

“Now listen up” I announced in the changing rooms, my herd listening attentively. “This is definitely a game we can win so let’s go out there and dominate from the first whistle, just like we did in the friendly. We’re practically full strength tonight so there’s no excuse for a poor showing. Don’t take them lightly but at the same time, don’t let them get settled on this their own patch. Stamp your authority and use the crowd to your advantage. I reckon there are about six hundred Luton fans out there. They’ve travelled a long way for a Tuesday night so let’s reward them for their effort. Now get going”.

Skipper Nicholls led the exodus from the changing rooms, rotating his head around his neck and bouncing up and down like a hungry bulldog. Keane was next, followed by Brill. Brian and I headed to the dugout and nervously got ourselves settled.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yep” I replied. “Time to go again”.

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

Next, BSP action >> Northwich (21st) v Luton (1st).

[ScottleeSV]

22/09/09, League Match 11

Northwich Victoria v Luton Town

GK – Dean Brill (61 apps, 0 goals)

DL – Richie Byrne (8 apps, 0 goals)

DR – Claude Gnakpa (58 apps, 2 goals)

DC – Tony James (10 apps, 0 goals)

DC – George Pilkington (56 apps, 0 goals)

DMC – Kevin Nicholls (38 apps, 10 goals)

MC – Keith Keane (52 apps, 4 goals)

ML – Charlie Daniels (10 apps, 2 goals)

MR – Danny Cadamateri (6 apps, 2 goals)

FC – Michael Bridges (4 apps, 1 goal)

FC – Jamie Guy (10 apps, 5 goals)

I kind of figured we’d be suited to playing on a lush surface like this, and that theory was quickly proven correct. Straight from the kick-off Bridges and Guy swopped a one-two on the edge of the area which resulted in Bridges getting a chance to strike a low one on goal with the outside of his foot. The keeper managed to paw it around the post for a corner, but the tone for the match had hopefully been set. Nicholls’ corner, having that said that, came to nothing.

The match then strangely descended into a long ball fest which almost threatened to derail our momentum. It was the two sets of fans who provided the entertainment during this period, trading vociferous volleys across the stadium like they were going out of fashion. The even spread of fans around the ground seemed to be making the singing match a very even and keenly contested one. It was also generally friendly and without too much needle.

Remember England’s opening goal from the 2006 world cup, the one where Beckham swung over a free kick and the ball slid off a Paraguayan defender’s head into the net? Well, the same thing happened for the opening goal here only from the opposite side. Richie Byrne whipped a free kick into the box after 12 minutes and defender Simon Grand it was who got the unlucky touch. The ball veered down into the turf and bounced past Tynan to give us an innocuous lead.

“That’s the sort of thing that only happens when you’ve won six on the bounce” Brian said, as the players strutted back to the halfway line slapping each other on the back.

“Good timing though. I was just starting to think we’d gone off the boil”.

Shell-shocked Northwich almost gifted the second goal too us within seconds. A mix-up between Aspin and Barrett allowed Keane to nip in and poke the ball through to Cadamateri out wide. Danny crossed the ball in low and it bounced out backwards off the heal of the retreating Barrett. Up followed Keane though to absolutely belt one at goal from twenty yards out, forcing the keeper into yet another firm tip around the post.

I thought we might push on from here and get more goals, but the Trickies nullified the game (probably the only thing they could do given how well we were playing). The next twenty minutes went by with barely an effort on target. From our point of view you might automatically think that’s a good thing given the scoreline, but I remember only too well what happened in the pre-season friendly. We’d been absolutely coasting at 1-0 up in that game only to concede a goal out of nothing in the final twenty minutes. I didn’t want the same thing to happen here.

Northwich tried their best to get a foothold in the game but all their efforts were either long range or simply not viable, like the soft header Johnny Allen attempted from outside the penalty area. He was never going to beat Brill with a try like that. I could also mention the thirty yard shot from Stamp which floated over the bar a good yard or so too high. There was a noticeable sigh of discontentment around the ground after that one.

With the clock drifting towards the half time whistle and there still being only one goal in it, Gnakpa overlapped with Cadamateri down the right and took the ball into the penalty area, intent on having a little dribble. He eventually over-ran the ball, leading Todd to poke it away. Unfortunately for the defender though his short clearance bounced back off a teammate and went to Gnakpa again. My right back suddenly found himself facing the goalkeeper, but the hapless Todd decided to hack him down before he could shoot. Penalty!

He might have missed one from the spot against Mansfield, but there was no stopping Kevin Nicholls getting back on the horse with this opportunity. He marched straight up to the penalty area as soon as the whistle blew, a fierce look of determination on his face ala Stuart Pearce, Euro 96. Nicholls aimed higher than he did last time out and the ball hit the net two thirds of the way up the netting and straight down the centre, the keeper long having dived low to his right. We were two up.

----------

Half time – Northwich 0 Luton 2

Martin mood’o’meter – Arrrrrre you watching, Steve Fairclough?

----------

It was a game of patches this one, and the home side probably had their best of the game just after half time. Johnny Allen played a lovely reverse pass into Benjamin in the 46th minute. The striker, who had been anonymous in the first forty five, fired low across Brill but just wide of the post. Then in the 50th minute it was Allen himself facing down Brill. A corner from the right was dropped in the wind by my normally dependable keeper and Allen somehow hacked it over from a yard out.

There might have been three men on the line but that was practically an open goal miss. The error once again deflated Northwich and aided by frantic shouts from Brian and I we slowly began to get back on top again. Charlie Daniels almost put the game to bed just shy of the hour, cutting inside and shooting from an almost impossible angle. What’s more, he got it on target. The ball cannoned into the keeper’s head and went behind for a corner. Had it gone in that would have reminded me of the one Van Nistelrooy once scored for Man United away to Basle.

Michael Bridges was starting to look a bit tired by this stage so I took him off and brought Spencer on. As tempted as I was to give some other starlets a rest whilst I was at it, I decided to retain some jokers at the back of the pack at least until we could get the third goal. Between the 60th and 70th minute, that third didn’t look long in coming. We created all manner of openings during this period, and anybody watching the match (home or away fan) could have been forgiven for thinking the contest was over, if not in the score-line then certainly from a psychological perspective.

One outstanding move deserves mention above any other. Byrne played a long ball down the line to Daniels which was so accurate it all but hugged the touchline. Instead of go on another one of his mesmerizing runs, Daniels cut inside and fed the onrushing Nicholls. From here the 'skip' sprayed it out to Cadamateri on the far right who after a poor first touch nudged it backwards to Gnakpa. Instead of cross it in, Gnakpa fired a low ball into Guy who was just inside the area. Guy then turned his man smartly before rifling in a shot which Tynan had to deflect over the crossbar. Great football!

It was a pleasant Tuesday night’s football this, but one man who wasn’t so amused was Flynn. The Northwich man villainously took out Spencer in the 72nd minute to earn his second yellow card of the evening. The home side were now down to ten men in a game they hadn’t been faring too well in even with eleven. As the Trickies manager reshuffled his troops, I reshuffled mine by bringing Gill on for Nicholls. El Skip had definitely earned his rest.

The expected avalanche of Luton attacks from here on in didn’t materialize. Instead the game died a death again (not a bad thing), as Northwich sat back deep in an attempt at damage limitation, and we started trying to be too clever for our own good. Charlie Daniels in particular earned himself a piece of my wrath for losing the ball after trying some Ronaldo style step-overs on the left touchline.

With eight minutes to go Barrett stood over a free kick on the near side and waved everybody forwards, intent on launching one into the penalty area. They say football is a funny old game but I didn’t find anything funny about the way the ball ended up in the net. Quite simply, Michael Byrne rose above everybody to glance past Brill into the corner. That must have been the home side’s first attack for about half an hour.

“You couldn’t make it up could you?” I said, nervously checking my watch.

“It was too easy for them” Brian replied, referring to our lot.

“No kidding it was”.

With the temperature around the ground up a good ten notches, the final stages of the match proved nerve shredding if not particularly high on quality. Encouraged by the goal, Northwich poured forward in search of another whilst we retreated to the edge of our own box. Despite the one man advantage we had been bitten by the fear bug here and the only cure for it was going to be the final whistle.

Thankfully however, the green shirts wasted at least five minutes trying to play it through us on the deck, before then remembering how they’d scored against us and spending the remaining time humping it long. There was one chance to equalize and it fell to Byrom. I say chance but it was more like a half chance; the guy gathered the ball in front of a crowded area and fired one a yard over the top. He wouldn’t have got that one in many times out of a hundred, that’s for sure.

Such is the long journey back from Cheshire to Bedfordshire, some of our fans were already on their way out of the ground when the final whistle went to signify our victory. After shaking hands with my opposite number, I fist-pumped the direction of Brian’s grinning face. Then I applauded from distance anybody in a white shirt who had stayed behind to clap the players off. We now had seven straight wins and life was rosy (for now that is).

-----------

FINAL SCORE (Att - 996)

Northwich Victoria 1 (Flynn s/o 72, Byrne 81)

Luton Town 2 (Grand o.g 12, Nicholls 45+1 pen)

-----------

(other scores)

AFC Wimbledon 2-0 Burton

Cambridge 3-3 Rushden

Droylsden 1-2 Weymouth

Forest Green 3-2 Kettering

Grays 5-2 Stevenage

Macclesfield 1-0 Ebbsfleet

Mansfield 2-1 Kidderminster

Salisbury 2-0 Crawley

St Albans 2-1 Oxford

Tamworth 1-2 Woking

York 4-3 Histon

-----------

Note - I'm not going to do a coded league table every single time in case it clutters up the page. Once every two league games is the current plan.

(top of the table after everybody has played 11 games)

Luton Town (29)

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

Rushden (23)

York City (21)

Forest Green (21)

AFC Wimbledon (20)

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

Burton Albion (19)

Cambridge (19)

[ScottleeSV]

23/09/09 - Thunderdome part 1

I arrived at the school hall an hour early. Darren wanted some help setting up the tables and chairs before the masses began turning up. He was expecting a crowd of over a hundred Luton fans tonight, more than some semi-professional teams get on a match day. I was tempted to turn him down but then I remembered his aches and pains in doing the Happy Harry thing for me, so I relented. The downside to this of course was that Chantelle would now have to make her own way to the school. She was going to be accompanied by Nicky and Caroline.

You almost feel like a pervert walking into a deserted school late in the evening. Furthermore, I didn’t actually know where I was going so I had to wander around aimlessly until spotting the light from the main hall. It was Lee who let me in the door; Cyril had head buried in a big thick notepad (presumably his revision notes) ten yards from the fire escape. They never seem to be far apart those two. Darren was the only other person there before me, and when I arrived he was busy fiddling around with a stereo system in the corner.

“Is that yours?” I called over, deciding it might be best leave Cyril to his own devices for now.

“Yep” said Darren. “And hi by the way”.

“What do you need a stereo system for? It’s a deathmatch isn’t it, not a disco?”

“Dude, this is for the introduction music. Once the crowd are ready and the clock hits 7.45pm, I’m going to turn the music on. Then the players are going to come out one by one from their respective changing rooms. I might put some music on before then too".

“What changing rooms?”

“Well, they’re not actually changing rooms in the traditional changing room sense. They’re just rooms I’m allocating to the players for this one-off event. Cyril is going to come out from the kitchen area over there, and Albie is going to come from the corridor. In fact, as we speak Albie is locked in a toilet cubicle doing his own spot of revising away from Cyril. I thought it might be best to keep them separated until the match starts”.

“Yeah that’s probably for the best”.

As Darren continued to mess around down on his hands and knees, I glanced around the hall and wondered what the atmosphere was going to be like come kick-off time. Cyril, Lee, and Darren were all smartly dressed in black trousers and 'going-out' shirts, as my mum would have called them. It reminded me of junior school discos actually when for one day in the calendar you’d see all your classmates dolled up for a social.

Once the big hotshot organiser had his records lined up, he and I began the undesirable task of organising all the seating arrangements. We put one table in the centre of the hall and then about eighty chairs around it in a circle, a bit like the seats get placed for a boxing match. Cyril eyed us both suspiciously throughout this process, his eyes definitely distracted from the notepad. Lee meanwhile stood supping a can and looking out the window.

“There’s not a hundred chairs here” I remarked when we were finished.

“Of course there isn’t. Some people will want to stand rather than sit, just like they would at a football match. Anyway, you don’t want to have too many rows of chairs or the people at the back won’t be able to see very well”.

“Where would you have me and Chantelle sit?”

“Well I don’t know about her but I was thinking maybe you could stand. You see, I had this idea of introducing you to the crowd before kick-off, maybe whisking you out from backstage as a special guest”.

“Oh come on I can’t be arsed with any of that ****”.

“No no, it’ll be great. Please, boss. Come on. I’ve charged people £5 for a ticket to get in! It’s only fair I give them a bit a razzmatazz for their money. That’s why I’ve got the music, just to add a little bit of professionalism to the whole thing. Now if you came out before kick-off and said a few words, I reckon that would be the icing on the cake. It’s not like you’re unpopular at the moment or anything – we’re top of the league!”

“Jesus Christ fine” I said, sighing about as loudly as I could.

“Hey” called Lee from over by the window. “Some people have arrived. I think it might be time to open the doors”.

“Oh God” said Cyril, springing up onto his feet. “I can’t do this! What am I going to do? What am I going to do?”

“Hey, calm down” Darren shouted across the hall. “Lee, get by the door and check the tickets as they come in. Cyril, you and James get into the kitchen area. When it’s time to call you out, I’ll call you out”.

I must admit, half an hour in the kitchen alone with Cyril didn’t exactly sound like my cup of tea. Begrudgingly though I went along with it. Once we were in there I whipped my phone out and pretended to be texting somebody, anything to avoid being Cyril’s personal councillor for the next thirty minutes. I needn’t have bothered though because Cyril scurried off into the far corner to start revising again, occasionally pausing to whisper something like ‘oh f__k, oh f__k, oh f__k’.

Meanwhile, a steady stream of spectators were beginning to file their way into the hall. I could see what was going by peering my eyes around the counter separating the hall from the kitchen. You know the sort of counter I mean – the type that big fat dinner ladies stand behind serving slop into plastic trays.

Darren had the stereo turned on now, and Chumbawumba was blaring out over the widespread chatter. The sound of the music was travelling quite well around the hall thanks to a couple of large speakers Darren had wired up to the stereo. For maximum effect, he’d pushed the speakers as far apart as they would go. I had to hand it to him; he’d done his best to put on a good show tonight.

When Chantelle arrived (thankfully with a smile on her face), Lee guided her to a seat near the front. Caroline though went over to where Darren was standing. After the briefest of chats over the din, Darren pointed towards the stereo and Caroline nodded. Then Caroline went over and sat down by it. From this I could only guess that she was in charge of flipping the compact discs over tonight and had probably been briefed about it beforehand, similar to Lee with his ticket task.

I was just beginning to wonder where Nicky was where the music stopped and Darren began addressing the crowd, all one hundred and something of them.

“Welcome everyone to tonight’s big occasion!”

Most people in the audience cheered and raised their cans in the air. I would say at least 90% of them were men, of which about 25% had Luton replica shirts on.

“As you know, the past few years have seen a strange phenomenon develop in the world of Luton Town fandom” Darren continued. “I refer of course to the concept of the Luton Town Trivia Deathmatch. Whether online or in the souvenir shops, there have been many a great champion since the game began. However, only two of those champions have ever kept the title for a considerable length of time. Tonight, for the first time ever, and probably for the last time ever, we will see those two champions go head to head in a bid to become the ULTIMATE Luton Town Trivia Deathmatch champion”.

Cue more cheers from the beer-swigging hoardes. Darren’s swagger and poise reminded me of Brad Pitt in Fight Club. He even had the same hairstyle as Pitt! I almost expected him to strip bare-chest and announce that the first rule of deathmatch club is that nobody talks about deathmatch club.

“Okay then, without any further delay, let’s introduce the two competitors. I’m sure you’re all going to give them a rapturous welcome”.

I could have been wrong, but somewhere behind me at the back of the kitchen, I thought I heard a gulp.

[ScottleeSV]

23/09/09 - Thunderdome part 2

“First up, tonight’s challenger. From a galaxy far far away – sorry couldn’t resist – please welcome, Cyril Denton!”

Darren nodded at Caroline and seconds later the chorus to ‘I need a hero’ by Bonnie Tyler came on. As this was happening Cyril began his walk into the hall with the look of a man heading for the gas chamber. The crowd though couldn’t have cared less. Tipsy and already up for anything, they cheered and sang Cyril’s name as if greeting their favourite tennis player onto centre court at Wimbledon.

(‘I’m holding out for a hero ‘til the morning light. He’s gotta be sure, and it’s gotta be soon, and he’s gotta be larger than life!’).

The moment the chorus ended, Caroline turned the song off. Cyril had sat down at the match-table by now and for some reason was blowing his own hands, probably out of nerves.

“Now for his opponent, who of course is the current and reigning champion. Please put your hands together for the one and only – Albie Bootle!”

Right on cue, on came the music again. This time it was The Power by Snap. Albie’s demeanour as he emerged from the corridor was much more confident. He had a noticeable strut to his walk, and he was waving and grinning as he approached the crowd. Essentially though, he was still a balding oompa-lumpa in a Star Trek costume.

(‘I’ve got the power hey yeah heh, I’ve got the power. Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh yeah’).

As the two players were finally brought face to face in the centre table, I noticed a few other costume-wearing trekkies sat on the back row. I couldn’t believe for one second they were Luton fans, so I settled for thinking they probably belonged to some Star Trek fan group Albie was a member of, and that he’d brought them along for moral support.

Having said that, it wasn’t as if Albie didn’t have supporters. Everyone in the audience seemed to have pre-picked a favourite tonight, and the distribution of cheers per player was rather evenly spread. Cyril definitely still had the edge in this regard; however I doubted it was any more than about 65-35 in his favour.

“One more thing left to do before we start” Darren continued. “We have a special guest tonight, and believe me; I had to pull quite a few strings for this one. Please welcome, the man who will potentially bring the good times back to our great football club, James Martin!”

There was no music for my entrance which I found a tad disappointing. Still, out I came. I stood next to Darren in front of the match-table and did my best to look like I was enjoying myself. Incidentally, the cheers for me as I came out were much louder than those for the two players. It seemed everybody had decided on a favourite between Cyril and Albie, but both camps were in support of me in my reign as Luton boss.

“James, as a former death match champion yourself, you probably know only too well what the players must be going through at this moment in time”.

“Err yeah” I replied, the rest of the hall now silent. “It’s always nervy just before a big game”.

“Any predictions?”

“Yeah. A late night”.

“Ha!” Darren said, as the room also indulged in a quick chuckle. “Put your hands together for the delightful James Martin, ladies and gentlemen!”

My time now up Darren beckoned me to go and stand somewhere out of the way, and accompanied by a strong round of applause that’s exactly what I did. Once I had a suitable viewing position, I glanced at Chantelle and saw she was looking back at me. Instinctively I winked. She winked back.

“Time to introduce tonight’s very neutral referee, and how much more neutral can you get than the president of the Luton Town Supporters’ Trust? Please welcome, Brad Scowcroft!”

I hadn’t known this was going to happen. Since when had Brad been invited? I hoped he wasn’t planning to mention my dalliance with the deathmatch scene at the next press conference – the likes of Branston and Thornton would have a field day! Anyway, the thirty six year old Brad looked a lot more dishevelled than he usually did. His bushy brown hair was scruffier and his shirt didn’t have a tie.

Over the next few minutes Darren and Brad went over the rules for anybody who didn’t know them. As per usual there would be five questions each and then sudden death if the scores were tied. Brad was to read the questions out and the players would have up to sixty seconds to answer each one.

“Heads or tails, Cyril?”

“Tails”.

“Tails it is. First or second?”

“I’ll go second”.

“Righty-ho, off we go!”

As Brad shuffled his question cards and turned to face Albie, there was just time for one last big ripple of encouragement for both players. Then Brad’s hand went up to silence them and the roars died down. We were officially off and running.

“Albie, how many own goals did Luton score in all of the 1970’s?”

The oompa-lumpa took all of three seconds to answer this, two to do the calculation and one to get his mouth muscles moving. In my head I felt a never-to-be-shared-with-anyone-under-any-circumstances poem coming on.

(‘Oompa, lumpa, didgeree dee! You’ll have to do better if you’re going to fool me!)

“Cyril” said Brad, once the cheers from the Trekkies had died down. “Who did Luton play on Saturday the 22nd of September, 2001?”

“Torquay”.

“Correct! One a piece!”

More cheers rang out as Cyril levelled things up. The standard had definitely been set now, and over the next hour or so there was no let-up. Albie was impeccable with every answer he gave and so was his opponent. It didn’t take long to get to sudden death (5-5), and not too much longer after that it was 10-10. Then it was 15-15. Then 20-20. Both players were matching each other blow for blow. I honestly couldn’t see where the winner was coming from!

With the clock approaching 9pm I slipped out for a bathroom break. On my way back, I saw Chantelle waiting for me next to a noticeboard with pictures of 'Class 4B’s trip to the farmhouse!’ splattered over it. One little sprog was knee-deep in cow s__t and not seeming to mind.

“Are you as bored of it as I am?” I asked.

“I wasn’t before but I am now” she admitted, putting her arms around my neck.

“Want to go for a drink?”

“Don’t you want to see who wins?”

I put my arms around her waist and pondered the question. In my heart of hearts I did want to see who won; I just didn’t want to see how they won it. The answer then was perhaps a great deal more obvious than one of Brad’s questions.

“Why don’t we go for a drink and then come back and check on things? If they’re still playing by then, we won’t have missed anything. On the other hand, if it’s finished we’ll just find out who won from someone and then trot off for another drink”.

“Okay sounds good”.

“Cool”.

We briefly kissed and then headed for the exit, my final thought on the matter being that we already seemed to feel scarily like a couple.

‘I swear to God though, they’d better not still be playing when I get back - for the sake of my sanity more than anything else'.

[ScottleeSV]

23/09/09 - Thunderdome part 3

The score was 82-82 when we got back. It wasn't yet over.

“I don’t believe this” I whispered in Chantelle’s ear, passing her a can of lager I’d manager to snag from Darren.

“Maybe we’ll just share this tinny and then go?” she suggested.

“Yeah that suits me”.

The atmosphere was a lot different on our return - quieter, tamer. Judging by the various empty seats in and amongst everyone, some folk had bailed early. Cyril and Albie hadn’t though. Their angry grimaces of earlier may have given way to tired baggy looks under their eyes, but they were still plugging away with no quarter asked or given (although apparently they’d agreed a break for the bog if it got to 100-all).

“Who is on record as the youngest player ever to play for Luton?” Brad asked, his enthusiasm for this gig clearly as long gone as mine was.

“Mike O’Hara” Cyril replied, head on elbow.

“Correct”.

There was a lot of mess around the hall now. Beer cans seemed to be all over the place, almost as if people had lobbed them wherever rather than look for a bin. I also could smell the unmistakable aroma of nicotine. Over in the corner, Caroline was yawning and playing a game on her phone.

“Albie, name all the teams Luton played in the 2003-2004 FA Cup”.

“Thurrock, Rochdale, Bradford, and Tranmere”.

“Correct”.

I let my head sink into Chantelle’s shoulder and closed my eyes. I’d had a long day and I was tired. This deathmatch just didn’t seem to ever want to end. My final thought before drifting into a brief sleep was that Darren would probably get into trouble with the school over the letting-people-smoke thing. That was an issue for tomorrow though. For now, it was time to sleep, time to dream.

----------

I’d been in this western town before. In ever so slight pain, I got up off the wooden sidewalk and surveyed the scene. People were lying around all over the place, probably with hangovers like the type I had. Or had there been a brawl of some sort? Yeah, now I remembered. There had been a brawl in the saloon. And then....And then what? I don’t know.

What I do know is that I started walking, careful to avoid treading on sleeping residents and manure patches as I did so. I recognised the saloon when I clapped eyes on it, but I didn’t bother going back in; I just carried on ambling aimlessly down the street. I walked past the barbers, the blacksmiths, and a goods store. When I got adjacent with a hotel though, I stopped and twisted my head around. I don’t know why but I needed to go in there.

“Howdy partner” said the receptionist, a bald burly man of about forty. “Same room again?”

“Do I know you?”

“No, but you will”.

“Will I?”

“I think so”.

He was cleaning a mug with a cloth as he spoke to me, sort of like a barman. I think that was just the dream screwing around with me though. It had to be because there were a load of plants behind the counter and that didn’t look normal for a hotel either. There weren’t just a few plants either, there were scores of them. It was almost like a greenhouse, maybe even a 'half hotel half greenhouse', if such a thing was possible.

“What am I here for?” I asked. “A room?”

“A room” laughed the man. “And there was me thinking you’d come to kill me”.

“What?”

---------

I was awoken by the sound of deafening cheers around the hall. It had been like the atmosphere of a long drawn out snooker match when I’d fallen asleep, but now something clearly very important had happened.

“He got one wrong!” Chantelle gasped, shaking me forcefully just to make sure I was definitely awake again.

I didn’t need to ask who; Albie had already left his seat and begun glumly heading for the exit, a bit like Luis Figo and chums did at the end of their turgid Euro 2000 semi final against France. I say that because it was obvious the contest was not officially over yet (even if it was in Albie’s mind). People were saying things like “Come on Cyril!”, and “One more, Cyril! One more!”

“Albie got one wrong and now Cyril just needs to get the next one to win” Chantelle translated for me over the noise.

“Yeah I think I gathered that for myself” I smiled, sitting up straight again.

Albie meanwhile had paused by the fire escape door with some of his Trekkie chums, just in case the unthinkable happened and Cyril botched up. Unlike the defeated Figo though he thankfully hadn’t taken his top off whilst he waited.

“Okay then, Cyril” said Brad slowly. “This is for the win – since the second world war, who is Luton Town’s fourteenth highest goal scorer in all competitions?”

Cyril’s answer wasn’t instantaneous (always a worrying sign in quizzes). His face seemed to have temporarily frozen in a position of psychedelic confusion. Around him you could practically hear a hundred bored souls telepathically screaming for him to answer the damn question already and save them all from a probable two hours of added on time. Cyril though was in turmoil. It was like he was suffering writer’s block in quiz-answering form.

But then, just as I was wondering if his minute was going to run out, the lips opened and out it came...

“Bruce Rioch?”

“Yes!” Brad screamed, throwing the rest of the cards in the air. “Correct!”

In the madness that followed, about twenty grown men all grabbed Cyril and lofted him high above their heads into a crowd-surfing position. Those not doing any lofting settled for chanting his name instead. In the corner, Caroline quickly changed discs and put on the music Darren had prepared in the event of a Denton victory. It was the Star Wars theme tune.

“Cyyyril! Cyyyril!” cried the hordes.

“Looks like the souvenir shop will be staying at Kenilworth Road for some time yet” I said, offering Chantelle my hand. “Come on, time to go”.

She smiled and accepted. As she then made to place her near-empty can on the match table, I glanced in the direction of the exit and saw that Albie had already long departed.

“And there was me thinking we’d be here all night” Darren shouted towards me, his hands still ferociously clapping away.

“What are you talking about? We WERE here all night” I replied, beginning to lead my lady-friend away from the crowd.

The last thing I saw as we reached the fire escape was Cyril being led around the hall above the heads of six people who seemed determined never to put him down. The song being sung was “There’s only one Cyril Denton”, and Cyril himself had a smile on his face the likes of which I didn’t even know he had in his locker.

I must admit, I felt delighted for the lad.

[Elrithral]

I caught up with most of this earlier in the week, very, very good.

[michael62]

im glad cyril won did u hear the luton result yesterday we beats hays and yeading 8-0 7 goals in the first half it was amazing we could of had 10 if hatch didn't miss the 2 glorious chances in the second half

Scores

Gallen Craddock Gnakpa 2 each Keane howells 1 each we going up as champions we have a game on tusday and then what could be the title decider next saturday against stevenage !!!

keep up the good work dude im looking forward to the next installemnt

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks, Elithral

Michael, yeah I follow Luton result's these days (a side effect of writing this story). That was a hell of a tonking you dished out yesterday. I think you'll go up one way or the other this season.

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

24/09/09 - Harry's retirement

Albie and a couple of his buddies were piling stock into the back of a van the following morning - he wasn’t wasting any time clearing off. I felt slightly sorry for him actually, but the bottom line is he really shouldn’t have bet his livelihood on a silly deathmatch game. At least life in the car park would be a lot quieter now with just Cyril and Lee again.

I had an appointment this morning with Glynn, marketing manager extraordinaire. If I hadn’t been running so late for it I might have stopped to say goodbye to Albie and offer him my best wishes for the future. As it was I fast-walked into the building with barely a cock of the head. Then I marched straight up the ground floor corridor and knocked on Glynn’s door, straightening my tie as I waited for the response.

“Hi James, do have a seat” said the ginger topped smile as I entered. “I’ve got something very interesting to show you today, very interesting indeed”.

“What is it?” I asked, accepting the offer to be seated.

“Well, before I get onto that, let me first congratulate you on your devilishly good idea to bring back the practice of using a mascot on match days”.

“You mean Happy Harry?”

“No, I mean just what I said, the practice of using a mascot on match days”.

Glynn had clearly installed for himself one of those seats which spin around on the spot. He was rotating on it both left and right as he spoke, his fingertips bouncing together in front of his face like that bloke used to do on the advert for The Mentalist.

“You see James, as much as the basic idea itself was perfectly sound, you did then demonstrate your lack of marketing knowledge by using Happy Harry to implement it. In fact, I’m slightly disappointed you didn’t come to me first actually. Then we could have avoided the mistake of Harry completely. Still, bygones being bygones and all that, I’m not going to get all tetchy about it. I’m a professional at the end of the day, and one of my biggest mottos has always been to never cry over spilt orange juice”.

“Hang on a second. What are you talking about? I get the not-coming-to-you-first bit, but what’s wrong with Happy Harry?”

“Well, in a word, he’s white”.

“Come again?”

“He’s white”.

Grinning awkwardly now, Glynn got out of his chair and looked through the window with his hands in his pockets.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, James, but the world out there is changing. We live in a multi-cultural society now. Things aren’t the same as they were back when I was a teenager. They’re probably not even the same as they were you were a teenager. Anyway, the bottom line here is, Happy Harry is white. It’s my feeling that as part of the New Luton regime, we should be doing more to try and get ethnic minorities through the turnstiles”.

“Christ” I said, sighing in disbelief. “What are you suggesting – we put a turban on Harry? Glynn, the only people who come to watch Luton are the people who want to watch Luton. It doesn’t matter whether they’re white, black, or anything else. If they want to come and see us, they’ll come see us. If they don’t, they won’t”.

“In a way you’re right. However, it’s my feeling that there will always be people from some ethnic groups who will be put off coming to the football because they’re worried about racism on the terraces. If we can successfully replace Harry with a more up-to-date mascot, something more appealing to those very groups I’ve just been talking about, I think that spiritually they'll feel much more safer about coming to the games. Or something like that".

“Let me guess, you want to have a black mascot?”

“Predominantly yes, but what I really wanted to do was reach out to people of all colours and races, and religions of course. Thus, I’ve gone much further than simply make the new mascot black”.

“You’re starting to talk like you’ve already had one made”.

“I have” Glynn beamed. “Why do you think I didn’t request this meeting the other week after you first brought Harry back? I wanted to go away and have the new mascot made first, impress you with it when I saw you”.

Before I could say anything else my host reached for the wardrobe in the back corner of the room. Then, with only the briefest modicum of difficulty, he pulled out the most hideous looking mascot costume I’ve ever seen. It looked a bit like one of those old golliwog toys, only in giant form and with a few modern day modifications.

For starters, the mascot seemed to have four different skin colours – black, brown, orange, and yellow. In fact, every real life skin tone seemed to have been accounted for apart from white. The colours were separated into little patches about the size of tennis balls (but not always in that exact shape) all over the mascot’s body. For example, one of the mascot’s cheeks was brown where as the other cheek was black. The forehead was dark orange where as the bulk of the chin was yellowish.

The fact a Luton Town home shirt and shorts had been painted onto the costume at least covered some places where the dodgy skin patches would have been, but as whoever had made it had forgotten the socks and boots in this endeavour, such censorship didn’t extend as far down as the shins and feet. For hair the mascot had bushy black Jamaican locks similar to a golliwog. All the aforementioned skin differentiations though made it look like a golliwog which had just been painted up to go into a warzone, and doing so wearing a Luton kit. The whole thing just looked ridiculous.

“Please excuse my French, Glynn, but what the f__king hell is that?”

“This is our new mascot” Glynn smiled. “Say hello to Multicoloured Mickey”.

“Multicoloured Mickey? That’s his name? Multicoloured Mickey? Mul..”

“Yep” he butted in, giving the torso a proud slap. “Catchy isn’t it? I’m also proud to inform you that Multicoloured Mickey will be making his debut this coming Saturday before the Macclesfield game. I’ve got a young Asian lad by the name of Abdul putting the suit on, so you can tell whoever you bribed to play Harry that he’ll be no longer needed. It wouldn’t make much commercial sense having a white man play Mickey”.

“Glynn” I said firmly, rising from my chair. “You can’t send that thing up and down the touchline throwing sweets into the stand! We’ll be laughing stocks!”

“Sweets?” he asked, sitting back down again. “I don’t think so! Nothing screams white man consumerism like a box of mini heroes. No, Multicoloured Mickey will be throwing a wide selection of spicy Indian snacks into the crowd instead. You know the sort of thing – onion bhajis, samosas, cutlets, chickpeas, things like that. I reckon a good portion of the crowd will enjoy trying something new for a change, don’t you?”

“I’m off” I replied, heading for the door.

“I'd get used to it, James” he called after me. “It’s the future. Don’t be a dinosaur”.

“Glynn” I said, spinning around just before I closed the door on him. “Just make sure you tell Multi-man over there to stay away from the dugout area, okay?”

“Look, you really need to....”

Before he could finish I closed the door. Then I headed for the canteen to grab a VERY strong coffee.

(‘Multicoloured f__king Mickey, I ask you!’)

-----------

Next, BSP action - Luton v Macclesfield.

[ScottleeSV]

26/09/09, League Match 12

Luton Town v Macclesfield Town

GK – Dean Brill (62 apps, 0 goals)

DL – Richie Byrne (9 apps, 0 goals)

DR – Keith Keane (53 apps, 4 goals)

DC – Tony James (11 apps, 0 goals)

DC – George Pilkington (57 apps, 0 goals)

DMC – Kevin Nicholls (39 apps, 11 goals)

MC – Matthew Gill (20 apps, 0 goals)

ML – Charlie Daniels (11 apps, 2 goals)

MR – Danny Cadamateri (7 apps, 2 goals)

FC – Scott Spencer (11 apps, 6 goals)

FC – Michael Bridges (5 apps, 1 goal)

In last season’s corresponding fixture, we absolutely bossed the Silkmen only to rather unfairly (I thought) finish up 1-1. A similar performance today though and I was sure our luck would be better. I made two changes from the starting eleven against Northwich. In came Gill and Spencer in place of Gnakpa and Guy. Macclesfield, who have had a woeful start to the season judging by the league table, lined up with 4.4.2 and so did we.

We helped our cause by getting off to a terrific start. In only the 5th minute of the game, Bridges collected the ball in a gaping no-mans land between Macclesfield’s midfield four and their back four. He dribbled like a snake up to the edge of the area before laying it off square to Spencer. The Everton man still had a fair bit to do from here, but with defenders approaching he unleashed a fabulous left footed half volley which was still rising even as it hit the net two thirds of the way up. What an opening!

The visitors’ response was to hack down Nicholls not long after the resumption and force him off injured. It didn’t take long for Joe Dunbar to give me the signal that Nicholls wouldn’t be able to continue. Thus, without even warming up beforehand, on went Derek Niven. I didn’t see any need to tinker with the tactics at this point. Not only did we have the early goal but Niven is a defensive midfielder just like Nicholls. I trusted him to do a good job in the skipper’s absence. Incidentally, the captain’s armband went to Keith Keane.

Speaking of Keane, it was he who set up our second chance in the 10th minute. Ever the artful dodger in the centre of the park, Keane looked left and right and eventually decided Scott Spencer was his best option. He poked a lovely ball out to the left hand side where Spencer had taken up an advanced position ahead of Charlie Daniels. After taking the ball in his stride, Spencer jinked both left and right and gradually forced the covering right back deeper and deeper. Eventually out came the trailing leg and Spencer went down, just inside the area. Penalty!

“Yes!” I cried, punching the air. “Wouldn’t you just know it – our penalty taker goes off and then a few minutes later we get a penalty!”

No answer from Brian. I looked to my left and saw him clutching the back of his head.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Someone just threw a poppadom at me!”

Brian lifted a large crusty piece of naan bread off the floor and held it up for me to see.

“That’s odd” I said, but glancing up and down the touchline after I’d said it.

(‘Multicoloured Mickey’s selection obviously isn’t going down well with everybody’)

I almost missed Keith Keane rifle the ball low into the left hand corner for our second goal. Keane had evidently decided he was the man to assume Nicholls’ penalty taking responsibilities for the time being, a decision vindicated when the net bulged. As Keane wheeled away towards the corner flag to celebrate, all the players went with him. The crowd meanwhile were on their feet applauding what they obviously thought might be the beginning of a landslide. Macclesfield didn’t look at the races so far today, and Scott Spencer was quite frankly tearing them to shreds.

Before the game could totally disappear down the plughole for them though, the away side at least partially got their act together. They began to pass the ball around and retain possession, and did so rather well. These weren’t the half-hearted attempts at keeping the ball that Ebbsfleet had tried last week either. No, this was clearly a former football league side scratching around for form. There was a clear quality in the way Macclesfield were spreading the ball around which I’d almost got used to not seeing anymore since we got relegated.

After 17 minutes, Pilkington had to be alert to stop Green reaching a through ball from Peyton. After 23 minutes, a header from Evans ten yards out forced Brill into diving low to his left to collect. The latter was Macclesfield’s best chance of a very good spell before we then rather fortunately (from our perspective) added our third goal on the break. That’s the thing about football; when you’re down you get kicked. When you’re up, you get breaks. You almost had to feel for the Macclesfield boys when the referee blew for the second spot kick of the game in the 29th minute. I personally didn’t even think it was a push!

Maybe Keith Keane took pity? His second penalty was aimed towards the same corner as the first and this time goalkeeper Brain guessed correctly, pushing it onto the post. The ball rebounded out to Spencer who, before he could tap the ball into an empty net, was pulled back by Hessey. Can you guess what happened next, I wonder? That’s right the referee blew for a THIRD penalty of the half. The blue shirts from up North didn’t even protest this time around. I reckoned they were one stroke of bad luck away from waving the white flag.

Keane didn’t fancy another go having now missed one, so instead the ball went to Spencer. Once the whistle blew, the Everton man strangely put the ball in exactly the same corner as the previous two penalties - and at the same low height too. Brain guessed correctly again but for some reason couldn’t make the save for a second consecutive time. Thus, the score ticked onto 3-0 and that was just about your lot for the day.

There were further chances in the final fifteen minutes of the half for Spencer and Daniels but neither could convert. Macclesfield by contrast looked completely shattered and no longer unable to string two passes together. After all the 2-0 wins we’ve had at home, maybe this would be the game we would rack up a cricket score and really set our stamp on the league (if we hadn’t done so already by winning seven in a row)?

----------

Half time – Luton 3 Macclesfield 0

Martin moon’o’meter – enjoying the good times

----------

A token effort to get back into the game was made by the visitors at the start of the second half. Brill even had to make another save, tipping a Green drive around the post for a corner which would eventually be headed away by James. The feeling I got however was that even if Macclesfield did pull one back, they still wouldn’t start to believe. Our lead was simply too large and our team was just too good. As such, I felt very comfortable about the whole situation and was thoroughly enjoying my afternoon. Have I even described a Luton chance yet which didn’t lead to a Luton goal? I don’t think I have, and that’s not about to change with the next paragraph!

This time the play went down the right. Cadamateri crossed the ball in and about four different players seemed to scrappily leap for it at the same time. As so often happens in a scrum like this, nobody got the ball and it rebounded out to somebody else. This being Luton’s day of incredible fortune and Macclesfield’s day of hell, that somebody was Keith Keane. Actually, let me rephrase – this was Keith Keane about to hit his one good shot from outside the box for the whole season. The ball curled around Brain into the top corner and that was four-nil.

It was party-time around the ground now. Even Multicoloured Mickey wasn’t getting booed anymore. I almost felt like taking Brian’s arm and doing a little circular jig right where we stood. As it was, I settled for some Evian and another low-key punch of the air. Not long after the fourth goal had been suitably celebrated and digested, out came the song about me again, the one where my team is referred to as a barmy army.

In the 64th minute I decided to give McCracken a run-out, taking Pilkington the other way. There was no way we were going to lose from here. I reckoned I could send Mickey on at centre back if I wanted to and still run out the victor. Our next chance came just two minutes later, Charlie Daniels unleashing a thunderbolt shot from a central position twenty five yards out. The ball swirled uncomfortably for Brain and he decided to punch rather than catch. It was a weak punch – straight to Bridges – who then whacked it lazily over the bar.

We hadn’t needed a stretcher for Nicholls earlier but we almost did for Cadamateri with just fifteen minutes left to play. Evans of Macclesfield single-handedly destroyed all the sympathy everybody around the ground had been feeling for his team by executing a horrible two footed tackle. It was so bad that for a minute I just as fearful we might get men sent off for retaliatory shoves as I was for Cadamateri’s state of being. Thankfully though he was fine, and the only man to suffer was the hastily red-carded Evans.

Just like Norway in their 1994 world cup game against Italy, our performance went down the drainpipe after gaining the man advantage. As an attacking force we seemed to close up shop for the day in the closing stages. As a defending force, we conceded a horrible goal from a corner. The ball was floated in almost in slow motion and substitute Fisher seemed as surprised as everybody when his free header zoomed low past Brill for a consolation goal. That was all it was though. The result was never in doubt.

-------

FINAL SCORE (Att - 4761)

Luton Town 4 (Spencer 5, 30pen, Keane 10pen, 57, m/p 29)

Macclesfield 1 (Evans s/o 74, Fisher 84)

-------

(other results)

Burton 4-2 Mansfield

Crawley 1-2 Grays

Ebbsfleet 1-2 Salisbury

Histon 1-2 Cambridge

Kettering 3-0 Droylsden

Kidderminster 1-0 Northwich

Oxford 3-0 Tamworth

Rushden 6-1 St Albans

Stevenage 3-2 York

Weymouth 3-1 AFC Wimbledon

Woking 1-0 Forest Green

[font=Courier New]| Pos   | Inf   | Team          |       | Pld   | Won   | Drn   | Lst   | For   | Ag    | G.D.  | Pts   | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 1st   |       | Luton         |       | 12    | 10    | 2     | 0     | 28    | 10    | +18   | 32    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 2nd   |       | Rushden       |       | 12    | 8     | 2     | 2     | 29    | 12    | +17   | 26    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 3rd   |       | Cambridge     |       | 12    | 6     | 4     | 2     | 19    | 12    | +7    | 22    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 4th   |       | Burton        |       | 12    | 7     | 1     | 4     | 21    | 18    | +9    | 22    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 5th   |       | Grays         |       | 12    | 6     | 3     | 3     | 22    | 13    | +9    | 21    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 6th   |       | York          |       | 12    | 6     | 3     | 3     | 19    | 11    | +8    | 21    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 7th   |       | Forest Green  |       | 12    | 6     | 3     | 3     | 15    | 9     | +6    | 21    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 8th   |       | AFC Wimbledon |       | 12    | 6     | 2     | 4     | 22    | 13    | +9    | 20    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 9th   |       | Weymouth      |       | 12    | 5     | 5     | 2     | 19    | 13    | +6    | 20    | [/font]
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[font=Courier New]| 10th  |       | Salisbury     |       | 12    | 5     | 5     | 2     | 18    | 14    | +4    | 20    | [/font]
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[font=Courier New]| 11th  |       | Stevenage     |       | 12    | 5     | 5     | 2     | 21    | 21    | E     | 20    | [/font]
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[font=Courier New]| 12th  |       | Oxford        |       | 12    | 6     | 1     | 5     | 21    | 13    | +8    | 19    | [/font]
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[font=Courier New]| 13th  |       | Crawley       |       | 12    | 6     | 0     | 6     | 20    | 20    | E     | 18    | [/font]
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[font=Courier New]| 14th  |       | Mansfield     |       | 12    | 4     | 4     | 4     | 20    | 24    | -4    | 16    | [/font]
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[font=Courier New]| 15th  |       | Ebbsfleet     |       | 12    | 4     | 3     | 5     | 14    | 14    | E     | 15    | [/font]
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[font=Courier New]| 16th  |       | Woking        |       | 12    | 4     | 3     | 5     | 11    | 12    | +2    | 15    | [/font]
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[font=Courier New]| 17th  |       | Histon        |       | 12    | 2     | 6     | 4     | 18    | 18    | E     | 12    | [/font]
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[font=Courier New]| 18th  |       | Kettering     |       | 12    | 3     | 3     | 6     | 18    | 21    | -3    | 12    | [/font]
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[font=Courier New]| 19th  |       | St Albans     |       | 12    | 2     | 3     | 6     | 10    | 25    | -15   | 9     | [/font]
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[font=Courier New]| 20th  |       | Kidderminster |       | 12    | 2     | 2     | 8     | 14    | 24    | -10   | 8     | [/font]
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[font=Courier New]| 21st  |       | Droylsden     |       | 12    | 2     | 2     | 8     | 16    | 29    | -13   | 8     | [/font]
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[font=Courier New]| 22nd  |       | Tamworth      |       | 12    | 2     | 2     | 8     | 8     | 21    | -13   | 8     | [/font]
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[font=Courier New]| 23rd  |       | Northwich     |       | 12    | 2     | 1     | 9     | 8     | 25    | -17   | 7     | [/font]
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[font=Courier New]| 24th  |       | Macclesfield  |       | 12    | 2     | 1     | 9     | 8     | 26    | -18   | 7     | [/font]
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[ScottleeSV]

27/09/09 - Boss for the boss.

The following evening I parked my car eighty yards up the road from Chantelle’s flat and turned the ignition off. To call these buildings ‘flats’ though didn’t feel altogether accurate. When I think of flats I think of tower blocks, or at least structures with a fair few floors to their name. All the buildings on this street were no more than two apartments high. They actually looked more like maisonettes stacked on top of each other to save room. Still, I was here and I was here early. That was the main thing.

A glance at my watch told me I was a whopping twenty five minutes early. In light of this I decided to sit still and rest my hands on the steering wheel for a short while. The radio was on but I turned this off now and thought about the evening ahead. A late night trip to a girl’s place after several very promising dates could only mean one thing – sex. I wasn’t too worried about that prospect but it did bear thinking about. Sleeping with someone for the first time is usually just as much nerve-wracking as it is exciting. I was hoping though I could somehow condition myself to feel less of the former and more of the latter.

(‘Fat chance! You're the guy who worried about Ebbsfleet!').

There was a copy of the Bedfordshire Bulletin resting on the passenger seat; I’d picked it up earlier just after leaving the pub. Inside the edition was a very interesting piece about a small-time drug dealer who had been arrested for possession of ecstasy tablets. Nothing newsworthy about that, you might think, at least until I tell you some of the finer details of the case. In fact, screw it I’ve still got the paper in the paper-rack. Read it for yourself.

Ecstasy for the old bill – one more scumbag off the streets, by Peter Auty

Local police arrested a 28 year old man on Friday night for possession of ecstasy tablets. The man, who was apprehended in the Heavenly Hatters strip club at 1.45am in the morning, was believed to have been peddling his product to both punters and dancers alike. However the revelation that he has in the past worked as a bouncer on the premises, has also cast an uneasy suspicion on the club itself.

A spokesman for Heavenly Hatters yesterday refused to get drawn on the issue, confirming the man’s past employment but at the same time denying the establishment had any knowledge of the crime being committed under its nose. Business is expected to continue as normal this coming Tuesday night followed by the standard weekend openings on both Friday and Saturday. Police say they will not investigate the company any further at this time.

In a twist which will likely be highly welcomed by top brass at Luton Town Football Club, the arrested dealer is believed to be the same man authorities could simply not catch when ecstasy consumption was a problem on the Kenilworth Road terraces during the second half of last season. Detective Inspector Ridgway of the Bedfordshire Police had the following to say...

“It’s probably the same man, yes. We found a Luton Town season ticket in his wallet, and the guy also had a coach travel pass for away games. Obviously he’s not admitting to these additional crimes at the moment because it would add to his sentence, but we hope that given time, we’ll get the truth out of him. We certainly hope it’s the same man anyway; a lot of resources went into getting to the bottom of that ugly business last season. If this is our guy, it will definitely vindicate us for the amount of taxpayer’s money spent on that operation”.

The Bedfordshire Bulletin strongly encourages its readers, should they ever be offered ecstasy tablets, to not only say no but to immediately report the incident to the nearest police station. Thousands of lives each year are claimed by this deadly drug posing as a harmless nightclub stimulant, and this week’s arrest can only be good for our community. Hip hip hooray for our Bobbies on the beat – one more scumbag off the streets.

I must admit I’d almost forgotten about our little ecstasy problem of last season. Like Ridgway, I very much hoped the right man had been caught. The only sticking point was the fact he’d been caught in (and once worked for!) Heavenly Hatters. Call me paranoid, but what if this dealer had been sent by Randy Begher to wreck havoc on the football club by spreading ecstasy around the ground? What if this was basically the same deal as when Begher had apparently, according to Chantelle’s buddy, arranged the rape-accusation trap in The Royal Hotel?

As I reached into the glove-box for my Boss aftershave and began to squirt some across the upper regions of my neck, I began to reckoning it might be time to pay The Heavenly Hatters a little visit. I wouldn’t be able to go on Tuesday because we had an away match at Salisbury. Maybe on Friday or Saturday though I’d quietly slip down there and see what was what? Maybe I’d even grab hold of Begher and have a little word with him, get to the bottom of what his beef was?

That was for next week though. Right now I was far too much of a randy beggar to think about Randy Begher. Straightening my collars one last time, I climbed out of the car and locked it with the beeper. Then I walked quietly up the pavement towards where I calculated No 136 would be. It wasn’t going to be straight into bed the minute I got there. Hell we hadn’t even actually said in words that we'd be doing it at all. You just presume certain things at this stage of the game though don’t you? In actual fact, we were going to kick off the evening with a glass of wine and some fish and chips. After that there were no firm plans.

(‘Which can surely only mean one glorious thing – bed’)

No 136 turned out to be one of the flats sitting on top of another flat. As I climbed the stone stairs leading off the front garden, my mind flashed back to earlier when Chantelle and I had been speaking on the phone. She’d seemed quite nervous during that call actually, perhaps a clue that she was thinking exactly what I was thinking in relation to how this evening was going to pan out. Well, I was hoping so anyway.

(‘Relax. There is absolutely nothing that can go wrong tonight. What you’ve basically got here is a beautiful woman, some red wine, and an isolated flat. Just get in there and make it happen’).

I paused before knocking on the door, swivelling my shoulders like a wrestler and blowing my hands in the cool night air. In a way it was kind of pathetic to still be going through these delaying rituals at almost thirty one years old. What can I say though? I liked her more than your average blonde. I didn’t want anything going wrong tonight. When I was ready I took a deep breath and rapped loudly on the wood. Approximately twenty seconds later, Chantelle answered. She looked both sheepish and nervous at the same time.

“Hey” I said with a grin.

“Hey” she replied glumly (as if the taxman had just turned up).

I was just about to ask what was wrong but she was too quick for me, sneaking away into what was probably the living room before I could get the words out of my mouth. I would have immediately followed her of course but my attention was distracted by a noise from the top of the stairs. There was a small boy up there on the fifth step from the top. He was about six years old, blonde (uncannily like his much older housemate), and at this moment in time was playing with a toy train.

(‘Gordon flaming Bennett’).

[ScottleeSV]

27/09/09 - Lukewarm reception

“Hey” I said happily, walking into the living room. “Who’s the little guy?”

“My son, obviously”.

Chantelle was sat on the far arm of the settee, looking at me as if wondering whether the tornado was going to hit. She’d pegged the wrong guy for that type of response though. In my mind I had two options for dealing with this, and neither involved getting annoyed. Option one was to politely announce I would no longer be pursuing this relationship in light of the new information which had..well, come to light. Option two on the other hand was to simply carry on as if the bombshell didn’t matter. I went for option two.

“Is that why you’re acting all weird?” I began. “Because you’re worried I’ll freak out that you’ve got a son and storm out?”

She shrugged and feigned a smile.

“Well, I’m not going to do that. Look, here I am sitting down on your nice leather settee as if everything’s completely normal”.

Huffing nonchalantly, I plonked myself down and picked up a stray copy of Hello Magazine. Then I quickly flicked through it before chucking it aside again. Chantelle stared at me incredulously. After seeming to thinking it over a moment, she took herself off the arm and sat down next to me, albeit right on the edge.

“You could just be acting like this to be polite” she said.

“Nope. It seriously doesn’t bother me. What’s his name anyway?”

“Luke”.

“Okay. Well look, you seem to be very on edge so why don’t we treat ourselves to a cigarette for five minutes and get ourselves feeling a little bit more comfortable? Have you still got that pack from the other night?”

“Yeah there’s still plenty left”.

“Okay, well why don’t you go grab those and then they’ll we’ll go outside for a puff? Then we’ll come back in and start over again, okay?”

“Sure”.

Following the briefest of kisses, off she went to get the cigarettes. From the hallway I heard her tell Luke to go play in his room and then there was silence for a minute or so. When she got back we went out the back door onto the veranda. There was an old-fashioned deckchair out here and high railings. Across the street, two guys were warming their hands over an open bin with fire it. I thought that only happened in Rocky films.

“How old is Luke then?” I asked, leaning on the railings.

Chantelle not only answered that question but also anticipated the questions yet to come.

“He’s six, nearly seven. He’s the only one I’ve got; you’ll be pleased to know. I had him just after I left school. As for the dad, he left me pretty much straight away. I didn’t see him for years and I had other boyfriends during that time. Then he came back from the army about a year ago. I didn’t even know that was where he’d gone. Anyway, we got back together when he met Luke and we were together for a quite a while last year and this year. Then suddenly things went a bit off and he left again. That was four months ago”.

“And you don’t think you’d take him back again, if he came back?”

“Probably not, and definitely not if I was with someone else”.

That was fair enough. I flicked my cigarette away only half-smoked and took hold of her around the waist, pecking her on the neck straight after.

“I’m surprised Caroline or Nicky didn’t tell me you had a son”.

“Nicky’s probably just forgotten. I don’t hang around with her as much as I used to. I still see Caroline a fair bit, but she probably just thought I’d told you about Luke the first time we went out”.

“Did you all go to the same school?” I asked after a moment’s consideration.

“No. I’m not even from around here. I grew up in Croydon, and Caroline only came here to go to uni”.

“Oh yeah I forgot she was at uni. Where did she come from originally?”

“Cambridge, I think. Or it might have been Peterborough. I can’t remember”.

“It’ll be ironic if she left Cambridge to go to uni somewhere else” I laughed. “You know, it’s funny all the little things about my colleagues I still don’t know even after all this time of working with them. You’d think I’d know where they all come from, but no, apparently not. I bet they all know I come from Leeds though. Maybe I talk too much about myself in the office and not enough about them? Anyway, what about Nicky? Where does she come from?”

“No idea. Probably somewhere tiny though. She used to talk about the size of Luton as if it was the capital city of the world. It was really funny”.

Chantelle threw away her cigarette butt, so reluctantly I released my grip from her waist and we went back inside. At this juncture she went into the kitchen and returned with two plates of fish and chips. The smell of them immediately told me they had come from a chippy. She must have gone out and fetched them just before I’d arrived.

“Excellent” I said, resting the plate on my lap. “I’m utterly starved”.

“They’re probably really cold though. Sorry about that. I thought you’d run off the moment you saw Luke, so the plan was to have fish and chips all ready so I could pig out on them to make myself feel better. If I’d known you were going to stay I would have gone and got them after you’d got here”.

“It’s okay. Fish and chips don’t taste too bad when cold”.

For the next half an hour or so we sat and ate, and talked, and drank. Chantelle was much more cheery now and the banter between us was back to how it had been on the previous nights we’d met up. I was glad to see she didn’t push for a second cigarette at any point too. She seems to be like me on that score – she likes the occasional smoke to ease the stress or make a night out more fun, but she’s not dependant on them.

By the time the conversation next came around to Luke, we were lying together on the settee as if sub-consciously practicing for the bedroom. We’d sunk a small bottle of red wine by now (two glasses each?) and felt very much at ease in each other’s arms.

“Do you think I should have told you about Luke on the first date?” she whispered, her exhausted mouth practically touching my ear.

“Not if you didn’t want to. I don’t see any reason why you can’t apply a degree of tactics to a dating scenario. Sometimes people don’t get a fair chance to show another person how good they might be for that person. When I was a teenager there was this girl called Rebecca. She was a friend of the family and I used to really fancy her, so much so that when my parents told me she was coming around for the day, I got very excited. My dad probably guessed what was on my mind because he winked at me when my mum wasn’t looking.

I paused for a moment to glance at Chantelle. She was smiling up at me, eyes half shut, listening attentively.

“Now it just so happens that when I was fifteen I had these really large ugly glasses. You don’t see people wearing them anymore, but back in the nineties they were still quite common. They looked totally sad but they were still common. I had a pair of the larger type and I hated them. I only wore them at home, never at school. My eyesight wasn’t that bad anyway. If I had my glasses on then great, they helped. If I didn’t have them on though it wasn’t that much of a big deal. Anyway...

“When Rebecca came around we spent the afternoon watching a film in my bedroom. I put my horrible glasses on for this purpose, and a day later when I called her up to ask her if she wanted to go and see The Fugitive at the cinema, she turned me down. Now, to this day I’m convinced that the reason she didn’t like me was because of those ridiculous glasses. I think I wore them though because I figured she’d have to see me in them eventually anyway if we started seeing more of each other.

“What I should have done of course was leave the glasses off until a later date when who knows, we might have been going out with each other. Then we could have had a laugh about them etcetera. As it was, I blew my chances from the off. I should have done what you did instead. Would I have been interested in you had our first ever meeting been in a supermarket with you pushing a pushchair? I don’t know. You are gorgeous though so I suppose if...”

A small snore cut me off. She was asleep. Obviously that ruled sex out but hey, always a next time. Acting on instinct I clambered over the top of her and stood up. Then I scooped her up in my arms and began to carry her upstairs. She opened her eyes halfway up but quickly closed them again once her brain cottoned on to what I was doing. Once I’d located her bedroom, I put her down under the sheets and kissed her goodnight. Then I went back downstairs. I couldn’t hear any noises from wherever Luke was; obviously he’d gone to bed.

My final activity before letting myself out was go back out onto the veranda for a second cigarette. There was a lot to reflect on from this evening and good way to start that process, I reckoned, was five minutes of fresh air and moon-gazing. One thing I didn’t think about was Salisbury. Was I getting complacent in these newfound waters of dating and loving? I hoped not.

[ScottleeSV]

29/09/09 - Investigating Salisbury

For the second week running we have an away game on a Tuesday night. This time it’s Salisbury, 10th in the league. The Whites are another of the seemingly endless list of teams who have only recently risen into the Conference National after an uneventful history much lower down. Looking around the place as I did this afternoon though, I’m surprised Salisbury took so long to get success on the football field. This is a large town with a population of over 50,000, and the nearest big club of any note (Southampton) is quite a fair distance away.

We’re going to have to be at our best this evening. Salisbury have lost only two of their twelve games so far this term, perhaps indicating they’re on their way to their best finish at this level since arriving in 2007. Team-wise I’m going to be making quite a few changes, most of them just to keep people throughout the squad fresh and interested. Kevin Nicholls is out with the injury he sustained early on against Macclesfield anyway. However because Claude Gnakpa is fit to return at right back, this frees up Keith Keane to move back into midfield and replace Nicholls (both as a midfielder and as a captain).

I haven’t stopped there. Matthew Gill and Derek Niven are practically interchangeable as defensive midfielders. Thus, even though Gill did fine on Saturday, I’m giving Niven a run-out for this one. Gill remains in the team but moves out onto the left side of midfield. Charlie Daniels therefore drops to left back so that Richie Byrne can have a night off and rest himself up. My final change is to bring Guy back in and put Spencer on the bench.

It’s a controversial line-up given the good run we’re on, but I fully believe my second eleven is almost on a par with the first eleven. The trap I want to avoid this season is winning loads of games with the same team only for them all to break down under the weight of the fixture list halfway through the winter. The second eleven could come in at that point but they wouldn’t exactly be match-hardened would they? What makes the situation more acute is the ridiculous E-mail I got from Erica the other week passing on the message the board expects me to win the FA Trophy as well as the league. They don’t ask much do they?

I was close to asking Chantelle to join me in Salisbury today but then I thought it might be pushing things too far too quickly. I was also conscious Luke might have to tag along in such a scenario, and I’m definitely not ready for that burden just yet. Instead then I went through my usual routine of driving to the destination and having a nosy around alone before meeting up with the players some time later.

As a place of general interest, Salisbury might just be the best place I’ve been to so far this season. I could say that just for the cathedral alone actually, a monumentally enormous structure I’d be more expecting to see somewhere like London, Leeds, or Cardiff (anywhere big, basically). One of four remaining copies of the Magna Carta resides at Salisbury Cathedral. That wasn’t as impressive to me as the huge towering arches inside the main building, but it still warrants a mention.

Once I was done with the cathedral I went to the Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum. This is a place bearing collections related to local archaeological interests, the most famous without a doubt being Stonehenge. As a bonus, the museum is located just in front of the cathedral. Thus I didn’t even have to get back in my car to go there. One of the curators informed me that the Wiltshire Heritage Museum is also worth a gander, should I ever get the time to go there. I didn't today unfortunately.

I write this now from the Haunch of Venison, a public house which just screamed out to be visited right back when I first did a Google search of the town. The Venison has a beautiful old fashioned building completely unspoiled by the passage of time. There’s also a mummified hand as an ‘attraction’ for people to look at. Apparently, Winston Churchill and Dwight Eisenhower met in the front room of this pub to plan the D-Day landings. It’s a shame I’m not writing this after the game or I might even have given you a description of Salisbury’s stadium. I can never be assed with this stuff anymore though once the game’s over and I’m heading back home down an ever-darkening motorway feeling tired out.

Eyes back on the present, it’s an hour and a half until kick-off and I’d better get going. The next time I write in the diary I very much hope to have a ninth straight victory to report on and an increase in our lead at the top. Some fans at Hatters Online (now they’ve got bored of talking about Cyril’s deathmatch win) are already speculating we might have the title wrapped up by the end of January. I think that might be being a little bit optimistic but you never know, I guess. I'd certainly welcome it if it came to pass.

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

Next - BSP action >> Salisbury (10th) v Luton (1st)

[shaggy61]

loving the story mate, keep up the good work, and as you keep going, town keep winning. As a self confessed statto geek, cant belive you reseached rioch was 14th top scorer, and the Torquay and Tranmere games(was at them both). In real life Money seems to have turn the corner and the team with a bit of luck could be back in the football league next term.

shaggy

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks Shaggy. Luton's form under Money is unbelievable. Can't see you not going up, I really can't.

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

29/09/09, League Match 13

Salisbury City v Luton Town

GK – Dean Brill (63 apps, 0 goals)

DL – Charlie Daniels (12 apps, 2 goals)

DR – Claude Gnakpa (59 apps, 2 goals)

DC – Tony James (12 apps, 0 goals)

DC – George Pilkington (58 apps, 0 goals)

DMC – Derek Niven (5 apps, 0 goals)

MC – Keith Keane (54 apps, 6 goals)

ML – Matthew Gill (21 apps, 0 goals)

MR – Danny Cadamateri (8 apps, 2 goals)

FC – Michael Bridges (6 apps, 1 goal)

FC – Jamie Guy (11 apps, 5 goals)

We began the game on fire, Cadamateri dancing down the right and tormenting defenders with his pace. When he eventually sold both Matthews and Robinson a dummy and cut back inside, I was convinced he was going to shoot. Instead, Danny rolled the ball across the uneven surface in front of the onrushing Matthew Gill. The midfielder decided on a placed effort to ensure getting it on target. He hit it well but the ball didn’t have enough pace on the shot, and goalkeeper Clarke was able to scramble across and push it around the post.

The corner came to nothing. However, we got enough corner in the 6th minute and this one dropped down in front of the goalkeeper. A mad scramble ensued from here, during which both Bridges and Gill had unsuccessful attempts at smacking the ball through a sea of legs. Never the less, we were well on top and the visiting Hatters fans were lapping it up over on the far side. We’d started just as I’d wanted us to start and hopefully the opening goal wouldn’t be long in arriving.

As it transpired, the first goal was indeed just around the corner. Unfortunately though it went to Salisbury. With virtually the home side’s first attack of the match, Sandell and Turk swapped passes on the left side of midfield before the former curled an ambitious ball into the centre of the penalty area. Brill came out and punched it under pressure but only into the left hip of Gill. The ball ricocheted sideways and in the air, and Griffin reacted quickest to head the ball into an empty net from about twenty yards out.

For the first time in my Luton career I didn’t immediately feel itchy at going behind. In fact, I was still confident we’d come back and win. That’s what an eight game winning streak does for you – it gives you confidence in your players. There was no need to panic here. Only 11 minutes had been played. There was plenty of time to right the wrong. Having said that, the goal seemed to bring the Salisbury ‘half’ of the crowd to life, whereas before all you could hear was noise from the away fans.

Salisbury won their first corner of the game two minutes after they scored. After that we began to take control again, Niven and Gill constantly swapping intricate little passes in midfield. In the 21st minute, it was a pass from Niven which set Cadamateri clear of the last defender from an angle on the right. Danny hit an accurate low shot but Clarke deflected it away with his legs. From the resulting throw-in on the right, Gnakpa crossed one in and Bridges headed just over the bar.

Still we probed, sometimes via the slow boat (Gill and Niven), other times by more direct methods (Gnakpa, Cadamateri, Pilkington). As the half began to wear on though, our attacks gradually began to thin out. The Whites better solidified their defence and just generally got used to our way of playing. For at least ten minutes absolutely nothing happened, save for Salisbury having their second shot of the game. It was from more than thirty yards out though and drifted harmlessly wide.

I was just starting to feel my first prangs of frustration when Charlie Daniels came to the fore, all the way from left back. Daniels played a one two with Gill before embarking on a devastating dribble down the wing which turned defence into attack in the space of seconds. There was an end product too, Daniels’ whipped cross proving the perfect fodder for Michael Bridges. The former Hull man was in just the right spot to get a firm head on the ball and send it careering towards the corner of the net. Enter goalkeeper Clarke, who somehow produced a save Gordon Banks would have been proud of to tip it around the post.

The wind was back in our sails now though. In the 39th minute Cadamateri danced and jigged on the Salisbury by-line before laying one back to Gnakpa. The right back thought about crossing it in but instead threaded a ball into Guy, who appeared to be backing into a defender in the penalty area. The referee didn’t blow his whistle so Guy laid the ball on for Gill, whose low shot hit a defender and rolled perfectly into the path of Bridges. I felt he just had to score this time but with Clarke completely oblivious to what was happening, the turn and shot from the big hit-man went straight into the goalkeeper’s knee and ricocheted over the crossbar. Unbelievable.

A goal was coming now, but so was the half time whistle if we didn’t get our act together. More huffing and puffing resulted in a throw-in over on the left. Daniels took it and threw it to Niven. The Scot dribbled infield and passed to Gill. The midfield man thought about the shot but instead rolled it into Bridges, who then sprayed the ball wide to Cadamateri. From here, Cadamateri crossed it in low. The ball missed everyone except defender Matthews, off whom it grazed slightly and almost went in for an own goal. Instead it just missed the far post and went out for a corner. The ref blew though before we could take it.

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

Half time – Salisbury 1 Luton 0

Martin mood’o’meter – Not panicking yet.

Brian mood'o'meter - Not panicking either.

Chantelle mood'o'meter - Absent presumed content.

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

At half time I was forced to take Niven off because he was struggling with a knock. In his stead came youngster Richard Owusu for a rare appearance. Owusu is naturally comfortable both in the centre of midfield and out on the left. Thus, because of this I put him where Gill had previously been playing and moved Matthew back into his favoured central area. Absolutely no lambasting of the team took place at the interval, merely small doses of encouragement and back slaps.

Disappointingly though, Salisbury almost scored their second goal straight from the whistle. Sangere supplied a lofted ball over Gnakpa for Sandell to chase down the left. The player’s cross was poor but it deflected down off Pilkington’s hand in the penalty area before then bouncing harmlessly through to Brill. It was definitely ball-to-hand but judging by the reaction of the home dugout you’d think Pilkington had reached up and punched it like Maradona. Correctly, in my opinion, the referee waved play on.

Once again, as it always seemed to do the moment Salisbury had an attack, the game swung in our favour for a considerable period afterwards. In the next ten minutes there were shots from Cadamateri, Bridges, and Owusu. Two of them went wide. One went into the midriff of Clarke. With the hour mark approaching, I decided it was time for Spencer. To great cheers from the travelling support, Spencer trotted on and Guy trotted off. I didn’t see the need to go 4.3.3 or do anything crazy. We were the better side; we just needed a break.

A fantastic chance came our way in the 64th minute. It almost went to Spencer but ended up in the lap of Cadamateri. A ball from the right was controlled by the substitute on the edge of the six yard box. Just as he swivelled to bury it, a defender poked the ball away from his toe and into Danny’s path. From here though he couldn’t seem to make his mind up whether to hit it left footed (which would have been best), or shape his body slightly to get it on his right. Ultimately, he messed up by going with his right and the ball ballooned over.

Four minutes later Bridges had another bite of the cherry, heading just wide from a corner under pressure from Turk. Then with 20 minutes left Pilkington chipped one into the area only for the ball to deflect off Spencer’s shoulder onto the post. The ball bounced back into the crowd of players only for Sandell to hack it away anywhere he could. I was starting to lose count of the chances. Silently I decided at this stage I’d settle for a draw if we could get it.

I also decided not to make any more substitutions. We were well on top and the game was heading into its closing stages; no point disrupting our momentum at this late stage. As the clock ticked onto 70 and then 75 minutes, Salisbury began to sit deeper and deeper and the local Wiltshire residents visibly began to sniff a famous victory. Was I going to be a lucky manager today? I was starting to think that I wasn’t.

In the 82nd minute, a very big moment occurred. With at least nine white shirts seemingly glued down inside their own penalty area, Gnakpa crossed one into the mixer. The ball bobbled around and eventually it found its way to Bridges in and around the penalty spot, who with one quick turn walloped the ball into the corner of the net. Get in! Brian and I were immediately off our feet, jumping and cheering. Meanwhile, all the Luton players chased after Bridges to congratulate him.

But no! Goal disallowed! The referee had blown for something, and was making a gesture suggesting that somebody had been digging into somebody else with his elbow (Christ knows who). A huge cheer rippled around the home fans once everybody cottoned on, and for at least the next sixty seconds the referee was mobbed by angry Luton players. Brian and I meanwhile flashed each other a knowing look which said it just wasn’t our day and what the hell could we do about it?

In the closing stages, as whistles began to sound out amongst the home fans, Pilkington launched a high one into the box. The pass had ‘desperation ball’ written all over it. Having said that, Clarke still had to punch rather than catch. Out it came to Keane, who chipped one back in. This time even more players went for the ball, but again Clarke punched it out. The heroic keeper got even bigger cheers this time. The ball fell to Gill, who in desperation pulled the trigger off-balance. The ball flashed four yards wide (at least), and that garnered the biggest cheer of all.

From the resulting goal kick, the ref blew for time. As seven hundred Luton fans began streaming for the exits, the rest of the ground began to celebrate as if they’d just gone through to the cup final. Two Salisbury players had even sunk to their knees with their arms in the air!

“Crying out loud” I said to Brian. “Get me out of here, quick”.

“Come on then” he said, forcing a laugh. “Off we trot”.

--------

FINAL SCORE (Att - 2487)

Salisbury City 1 (Griffin 11)

Luton Town 0

--------

(other results)

AFC Wimbledon 4-2 Kettering

Cambridge 1-1 Stevenage

Droylsden 1-2 Woking

Forest Green 2-2 Oxford Utd

Grays 4-0 Ebbsfleet

Macclesfield 1-1 Kidderminster

Northwich 2-1 Mansfield

St Albans 0-2 Histon

Tamworth 0-1 Rushden

Weymouth 1-1 Burton

York City 3-2 Crawley

---------

(top of the league after 13 games)

1 - Luton Town (32)

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

2 - Rushden (29)

3 - Grays Athletic (24)

4 - York City (24)

5 - AFC Wimbledon (23)

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

6 - Cambridge Utd (23)

7 - Burton Albion (23)

8 - Salisbury City (23)

[pooman2279]

Wow, that sounded ridiculously unlucky. Still, I suppose having a 3 point gap with only 13 played is a great start. Good luck!

[banglared]

It took me a while, but I've managed to read the whole story so far... looking forward to the next installments .

[champ 01/02]

this tory is epic mate, cant wait for the next post

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks guys, it's lovely to see some new readers

Just a quick note about the match reports; I'm going to start experimenting with splitting them into two posts each time. They've become very chunky and heavy recently

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

30/09/09 - Everybody has to start somewhere

This morning I got a call from Wally Robbins, the big cheese at Live Bunny TV. After several weeks of being on the waiting list, my chance to be a guest on one of their broadcasts had finally arrived. The timing of the invite couldn’t have been better either. I’d been due to attend the post-match press conference for the Salisbury game this afternoon. In light of my newfound television commitments though, I was able to excuse myself from that and send Brian in my stead.

The Live Bunny headquarters are based in the centre of Oxford. To cut a long story short from here on in, I arrived there at just after 5pm (I knew the way very well from when we’d played them in August) and was duly shown into an upstairs waiting room by a nerdy work placement girl. I guess you could call it the equivalent of the green room on The Jonathan Ross Show. There were nice comfortable couches abound, and a working TV in the corner. It was nice.

As I sat there on my own with my arms crossed, I wondered which game it was I’d be the pundit for later on. I suppose I should have checked the fixtures online before setting off. Still, it didn’t matter that much. Having been an experienced follower of non-league football even before joining Luton, I was sure I could make some intelligent comments and observations on whatever match I ended up watching. I’d even put one of my smartest suits on for the occasion.

(‘It’s just a shame I suppose that Chantelle isn’t subscribed to Live Bunny. I’ll have to get that set up for her for if there’s a next time’).

As I chewed this over, my mobile phone went off. It was Brian.

“Let me guess” I said. “The press conference went horribly and you totally hate me for ducking out of it?”

“Oh I wouldn’t say it was horrible, just very indicative of how depressing modern journalism is. Are you there yet?”

“Yeah I’m in a waiting room waiting to go on. How was it depressing?”

“Well, first Andy Branston asked me what I thought the reasons were for our alarming slump in form”.

“After one defeat?!” I exclaimed loudly.

“Yeah, then when I told him I didn’t think it qualified as a slump in form, he pointed out that over the last two months we’ve dropped points against minnows Woking, Histon, and now Salisbury”.

“That is a shocking way to look at it!”

“Yeah well anyway, after that he moved onto the issue of why you weren’t present. I did tell him about your TV thing but Andy seemed to think it very convenient that the first press conference of the season you’ve skipped just happens to be the first one to follow a defeat”.

“Well he’s going to look stupid tonight then when he turns on the TV at half time and sees me in the Live Bunny studios. In fact mate, if you want to do me a big favour, you could do a lot worse than let all those journalists know the time and channel that I’m going to be appearing on. This wouldn’t be a bad way of making Branston look a bit silly for doubting my integrity”.

I got up from the settee and began to pace around, my blood pressure slightly on the rise.

“You know what, Brian?” I continued, albeit with a slight change of subject. “I’ve been really looking forward to tonight. This is a great chance for me to put myself out there as a manager who really knows his stuff, a manager who’s on the pulse, a manager who’s on the ball, not only about his own team but the teams in the leagues around him too. If there are any chairmen from higher divisions watching tonight’s broadcast I’m hoping I’ll come across as just the man they might be interested in for the future. This is a good opportunity this, Brian, and I fully intend to grab it with both hands. And you know what? If I get to make Branston look a bit silly at the same time then that’s a bonus”.

My speech complete, I sat back down again and stretched my legs out. If anybody walked in here now they’d think I’d definitely made myself at home. In the corner of the room, Toadie was saying something to Karl Kennedy on Neighbours. The sound was down though so I couldn’t hear what.

“James, there’s just one thing that bugs me about this whole Live Bunny thing. I checked the fixture lists for tonight and there aren’t any games on in either the conference leagues or the Live Bunny Cup. They were all last night! And even if there was a game on, why would they make you go to the main studio headquarters to be a pundit for it? Surely you’d be meeting them at the ground where the game was being played?”

“Well, to address your first point, Wally wasn’t specific on the phone about which game it was, and I didn’t ask. I didn’t care what game it would be really. I got the address of the studios from him and the time I had to be here and that was that. I just presumed they'd be cutting back to the studio from the ground tonight. They do that sometimes don’t they?"

“Well yes, sometimes, but that doesn’t change the fact there aren’t any games on tonight”.

Before I could reply again, the far door opened and in walked Nadine Gouvell, the presenter I’d previously met just up the road from here at the Oxford game back in August. Quickly I flipped my phone shut and dropped it in my pocket, standing up in the same motion. Nadine looked just as gorgeous as the previous time I’d met her, sporting long mousy brown hair and a figure in the same ilk as Gabby Logan in her prime.

“James, good to meet you again” she said, offering her hand. “Time is short so why don’t we go through to the studio?”

“Errr right” I said, beginning to follow her down a long corridor. “I’m very happy to be here, by the way. I hope I can prove an excellent asset to the commentary team, or whichever team it’s going to be”.

She stopped in front of a doorway and turned to face me.

“Commentary team? Did Wally not tell you what you were going to be doing tonight?”

“Errr, I don’t think he did actually”.

“Okay, well let me quickly give you the lowdown. This isn’t a match you’re doing tonight. There aren’t even any matches on tonight. What we’ve brought you here for is to do a pre-recorded segment for our Saturday morning round-up show. You’re our special guest who’s going to be making the draw for the next round of the Live Bunny Cup, using our special Live Bunny lottery machine. We’re going to film you doing the draw tonight but not show it until Saturday. Didn’t you read the terms of the agreement when you signed the form downstairs?”

“No, I just signed it and let myself be shown up to that waiting room”.

“Oh. Well. Anyway, you’re not having second thoughts are you?”

“No, I suppose not”.

I must admit, privately at this point I was slightly disappointed. I’d been looking forward to getting involved in some good intense debate, and now all I was going to be doing was pulling a few balls out of a cup and reading some numbers out. Still, there was no point bleating about it.

“That’s the spirit” Nadine said.

Using the clipboard she had with her to push the door open, in we went to the studio area. I felt though as if I’d just walked into Area 51. It was all white in here – the floors, the walls, the ceiling, everything. On one half of the room were a million cameras and various other bits and bobs, not to mention at least three men in Live Bunny jackets pi$$ing about with the equipment. It was what was situated on the other half of the room which threw me.

There was a large empty tank, about the size of the crystal dome from The Crystal Maze, only this one was square. All the cameras were facing it.

“What the hell is that?” I asked, pointing.

“The Live Bunny lottery machine of course” Nadine coolly replied, bending over into a nearby box.

“Why is it that big? How many teams are going into the hat – fifty thousand?”

“No” she laughed, momentarily retracting her back. “We decided we didn’t want to make our cup draws as bland as the ones you see at Soho Square etcetera. So, what’s going to happen here is, you’re going to get into the glass cage, and then loads of balls are going to fly around and you’re going to catch them one by one, feeding them through that small tube at the side there. As you’re doing that, I’m going to tell the cameras which teams have come out to play who”.

“You want me to jump around in that cage, on TV? Please tell me this is a joke”.

“Of course not!” she retorted, bending down into the box once more. “Now like I said before, we’re running late, so if you’d quickly get changed in the next room just along the corridor, we’ll make a start on what will hopefully be the one and only take”.

With that she passed me what looked horribly like a giant bunny costume.

(‘Oh please tell me this isn't happening')

[ScottleeSV]

30/09/09 - A man without conviction

Once I was inside the bunny suit and back in the studio, I didn’t waste any time getting into the glass cage. The costume itself was easy enough to walk around in but the glass eye slits were such that 20/20 vision was difficult. The sooner this was over the better. Nadine wasn’t in the studio when I got back, so for a minute at least I stood in the cage like a lemon watching the camera technicians go about their business.

“Hey” one of them eventually called out to me. “Can you hear me in there?”

“Yeah” I yelled back through my bunny mouth.

“Good. Get ready for action. Nadine’s doing a tracking shot from the corridor into here. As soon as the door opens, it’s started”.

“Right”.

As I waited, I glanced upwards and saw a few holes in the ceiling of the cage. Presumably that was why hearing things on the outside was so easy. Next to the holes were two small boxes filled with balls. I could only imagine that once the draw began, these balls would drop into the cage and I’d have to run around after them. Lovely.

True to the technician’s word, Nadine soon manoeuvred her way into the room followed by a cameraman documenting her every word and move.

“Here we are then” she said, microphone in hand. “Here is the Live Bunny draw machine where today’s draw will be taking place. We are now only moments away from seeing who will play who in the second round of the Live Bunny Cup. It’s all very exciting”.

(‘The viewers didn’t see me get into the suit. They won’t know who I am. I might actually get out of this at the end with my anonymity still intact!’)

“Today’s bunny, if you’re wondering, is James Martin the Luton Town manager!”

(‘Oh’)

“Okay then, John, will you start the fans please!”

One of the camera crew nodded; the same guy who’d spoken to me earlier. Seconds later I felt a blustery breeze coming from through the large square holes in the grated floor.

“Now release the balls for the Blue Square North section!”

A batch of white ping-pong balls with numbers on them suddenly landed on my head and bounced all over the place. Then the breeze entered the equation and began blowing them here, there, and everywhere. I was being smacked from all sides here. Dare I say it but good job I had the protection of the bunny suit.

Much more disturbing than anything the balls could have done to me, the song Karma Chameleon by Culture Club suddenly started blaring away from somewhere, most likely from speakers on the studio ceiling I’d not previously noticed. Talk about tacky. Nadine meanwhile made a gesture with her hand for me to get on with it, so I did. I began to swing my arms around trying to catch my first ball.

‘There’s a loving in your eyes all the way! If I listened to your lies would you say! I’m a mannnn without conviction, I’m a mannnn...’

This must have been a more grounded version of what it’s supposed to feel like playing Quidditch, the magical sport from the Harry Potter world. All I was doing here was getting smacked around by a load of balls whilst trying my level best to catch balls. Similar deal to Quidditch only without the broomsticks, right? Anyway, eventually I caught one and fed it through the little tube at the side of the cage. Only thirteen more to go and I could move onto the Blue Square South section.

“And the first team out is Hyde United!” said Nadine, enthusiastically opening the ball up like a Kinder egg. “Currently having a mediocre season in the Blue Square North, but now they’ve got a home tie in the Live Bunny Cup to look forward to”.

‘Karma karma karma karma karma chameleon! You come and go, you come and go’.

“And they will play...” she continued, eventually picking up the second ball I donated to the tube. “Fleetwood Town. That’s a hefty midweek trip for the Codmen”.

‘Loving would be easy if your colours were like my dreams, red gold and green, red gold and green’.

As the draw progressed towards its halfway point, I soon got better at catching the balls in a timely manner. I did however suffer a brief accident just after depositing Southport’s ball, slipping as I did on another ball and landing practically on my back. The music didn’t stop though and Nadine merely gestured for me to get back on my feet and soldier on.

Nadine incidentally has an annoying habit of trying to make even the most boring cup ties sound like potential money spinners. When St Albans’ tie away to Barrow came out, she got excited and claimed the game would be a hell of a challenge for the St Albans fans to get to (like they would even bother!). When Forest Green and Bath became the first two teams to be drawn together in the southern section, Nadine exclaimed that such local derbies are great for the competition, and that said game might just turn out to be ‘tie of the round’.

‘Every daaaay, is like survival! You’re my lover, not my rival!’

With Karma Chameleon now on its second play, I was finally down to the last two balls. The first of those conjured up the unsung name of Chelmsford. As for the second, I’ll leave that one for Nadine to tell you...

“It’s Ebbfleet! They will go to Chelmsford then in what could be a fascinating battle between a team from south of London and a team north of London”.

As soon as the draw was finished and the music turned off, I exited stage left in a flash. Nadine though collared me as soon I stepped out of the cage, telling me to take the bunny’s head section of the costume off. Bitch.

“James” she said, still operating that damn microphone. “That was quite a draw. Plenty of interesting ties there. Which one stood out for you?”

“Errrr, probably Forest Green against Bath. Local derby, ya know?”

“Absolutely! And what about Southport?! Flying high at the top of the Blue Square North but they’ve got a tricky trip to Harrogate Town now in this competition”.

“Yeah they’ll probably find that quite tricky”.

“The big teams come in the round after this one. What are your expectations for Luton in the competition?”

“Errr, to try and win it. Definitely”.

“Thanks James. Well, we’ll go and let you get changed. Many thanks for doing the draw”.

“Thanks, Nadine”.

It was finally over. Thank god for that. Carrying the bunny head under my arm, I trundled back to the dressing room and swiftly began to put my normal clothes back on. It was only after I was fully clothed that I checked my phone and realised I had a text message. It was Brian, and judging by the time stamp on it had been sent just after our conversation in the waiting room earlier.

Did you hang up? Anyway, no point contacting any journalists cos I called Darren and he says there isn’t another Live Bunny show until Sat morning. U must be doin a pre-recording or something. Anyway. Darren’s got Live Bunny and we’re all meeting at his sat morning to watch it – Nicky, Sally, Caroline, Chantelle, Brenda, everyone. Regards

('Great').

[ScottleeSV]

September 2009 round-up of the other divisions

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Premiership

Top - Chelsea (19), Middlesbrough (15), Liverpool (14), West Brom (14), Man Utd (13), Man City (13), Aston Villa (11)

Bottom - Sunderland (7), Wigan (7), Blackburn (7), Reading (7), Tottenham (6), West Ham (6), Bolton (4), Stoke City (2)

Liverpool's hot start has crumbled already, leaving Chelsea to pull into a useful four point lead. Middlesbrough and West Brom are maintaining their strong beginnings but nobody in the media expects them to stay where they are. Top goalscorer is Didier Drogba with seven goals.

It's a woeful start for Tony Pullis down at the bottom, Stoke already well adrift of safety and wondering where the first win is going to come from. Biggest surprise here though is Tottenham, third bottom and looking pathetic for the amount of money they've spent on their squad. Long-time fans at the Lane must be tearing their hair out.

----------

Championship

Top - Swansea (19), Leeds (17), Wolves (17), Bristol City (16), Portsmouth (16), Fulham (16), Cardiff (15), Southampton (15)

Bottom - Burnley (10), QPR (10), Millwall (10), Barnsley (9), Coventry (8), Nottingham Forest (8), Doncaster (7), Leicester (5)

Do Swansea have what it takes to make it to the promised land? The nature of their start would suggest they do. Leeds have adapted to Championship life very well since their promotion, and Portsmouth continue to stay with the pace despite the firesale. Top goalscorer in The Championship is a three way tie between Castillo, Hayter, and Ebanks-Blake.

It's not good for big teams in and around the midlands, Coventry, Forest, and Leicester all flirting with the drop zone in the early stages. Watford have sadly pulled into calmer waters since I last did an update. Damn them to hell.

----------

League One

Top - Norwich (19), Brighton (16), Scunthorpe (16), Southend (16), MK Dons (15), Bradford (15), Blackpool (14), Bristol Rovers (14)

Bottom - Stockport (8), Shrewsbury (8), Hartlepool (8), Colchester (7), Darlington (5), Rochdale (4), Oldham (3)

The Canaries have continued their strong start here and hold a three point lead going into October. No great surprises amongst the top seven clubs. Bradford are pushing well for a team only just promoted from League One. As with the league above there are three top goalscorers, each with seven goals in this instance - Murray of Brighton, Hayes of Scunthorpe, and Mackail-Smith of Peterborough.

At the foot of the table Oldham continue to struggle, remarkable for a side who began the Sky TV years in the top flight. Crystal Palace have improved on a slow start to rise into mid-table. Bradford aside, the promoted clubs are really struggling to make an impression.

----------

League Two

Top - Port Vale (19), Morecambe (17), Notts County (16), Gillingham (16), Rotherham (16), Cheltenham (15), Bury (14)

Bottom - Chesterfield (8), Chester (7), Wycombe (6), Walsall (5), Dag and Red (3), Wrexham (2)

The Valients had an excellent September to move ahead of Morecambe into first place. The Shrimps though continue to defy expectation. There are three top goalscorers in this league also, all with six goals each - Chadwick of Hereford, Fleetwood of Torquay, and O'Carroll of Morecambe.

Chester have had a couple of wins since the last monthly update, leaving Dagenham and Wrexham as the most likely sides to drop out of the league this season. Walsall and Wycombe fans will also probably be extremely stressed at what they've had to endure so far.

----------

Blue Square North

Top - Southport (23), Hinckley (19), Blyth (19), Gainsborough (19), Hyde (18), Barrow (16)

Bottom - Gateshead (10), Redditch (9), Solihull (9), Boston (8), Kings Lynn (6), Leigh Genesis (6)

The Sandgrounders of Southport have now opened up a four point lead at the top of the Blue Square North, leading the way from a trio of smaller clubs on nineteen points. Relegated Barrow have recovered from a weak start to move into contention at the back end of the playoffs.

We have a clear leading goalscorer in this division, Danny Holland of Harrogate who has eight goals. In the relegation zone, Kings Lynn and Boston have had very poor starts. Leigh Genesis meanwhile prop up everybody courtesy of a poor goal difference.

----------

Blue Square South

Top -Eastbourne (24), Braintree (22), Bognor Regis (21), Chelmsford (20), Hampton and Richmond (20), Newport County (19)

Bottom - Fisher (10), Bishop's Stortford (6), Farnborough (6), Merthyr (5), Sutton (3), Ashford of Middlesex (3)

Eastbourne have a lost a game now but still the lead the way from Essex side Braintree. It's generally as you would expect with the rest of the top six, save perhaps for the presence of Bognor Regis. No sign of Simon Emery's Bromley in the promotion shake-up.

Down at the bottom, the promoted clubs all have a win to shout about now. It's still a tragic league table for the four of them though. Of the four, I think Farnborough might yet pull out. As for the rest, I think it will be a long hard season. Top goalscorer in this division is Sam Higgins of Chelmsford with 8 goals.

[ScottleeSV]

03/10/09, League Match 14

Luton Town v Grays Athletic

GK – Dean Brill (64 apps, 0 goals)

DL – George Beavon (17 apps, 0 goals)

DR – Claude Gnakpa (60 apps, 2 goals)

DC – Tony James (13 apps, 0 goals)

DC – George Pilkington (59 apps, 0 goals)

DMC – Derek Niven (6 apps, 0 goals)

MC – Matthew Gill (22 apps, 0 goals)

ML – Charlie Daniels (13 apps, 2 goals)

MR – Danny Cadamateri (9 apps, 2 goals)

FC – Michael Bridges (7 apps, 1 goal)

FC – Scott Spencer (13 apps, 6 goals)

Ideally I would have liked a full strength side to pick from after the Salisbury defeat. Alas, Nicholls wasn’t ready to return and we even had additional injured parties in Keith Keane and Richie Byrne. In light of this I handed versatile defender George Beavon a rare start at left back, moving Charlie Daniels onto the left wing and Matthew Gill into centre midfield. Up front I recalled Scott Spencer in place of Jamie Guy.

At first glance this might have looked like an easy game on paper. However, Grays Athletic have surprised everybody this so far this season, reaching third place with a number of effective performances. Despite small attendances they have some very generous directors and a very ambitious chairman. Last time out in the league they slaughtered Ebbsfleet 4-0 on their own patch. I was under no illusions as to how hard this game would be.

--------

The game kicked off to a huge roar from the home supporters, and it didn’t take us long to get them off their seats. Grays quickly looked very stretched as a defensive line and Derek Niven took advantage, first dribbling one way before whisking a ball out wide to Scott Spencer the other way. The returning striker’s first touch took him past a flat-footed defender and in on the keeper from a slight angle. Flitney was quick off his line though and blocked Spencer’s shot behind for a corner.

Danny Cadamateri has been getting better by the game in his adopted right wing position. In the 9th minute he controlled a beautiful lofted pass by Gill and raced towards the by-line. The cross was whipped in a yard before he got there and this time Flitney was much less sure of himself. Bridges got a touch on the ball but couldn’t quite stretch far enough to make it a decisive one. Ironically, if he’d left it alone, Spencer probably would have tapped in at the far post. As it was, the ball eluded him and went out for a goal kick.

Our early dominance didn’t prove to be as long-lasting as it had been on Tuesday night. After surviving the early scares, Grays gradually played their way back into the game. They’re clearly a lovely footballing side, playing as they do a short passing game with lots of intricate one-touch stuff. They also keep the ball very well. No wonder they’ve managed a few wins already this season. By the time the first twenty minutes had elapsed, the game had become very even.

That said the visitors seemed to have an aversion to shooting at goal. After 23 minutes Sloma chipped a half-volleyed pass over Pilkington and into the path of Mohammed. The striker had a chance of beating Brill to the ball here and he did. Instead of risk the shot though, Mohammed elected the difficult skill of controlling the ball AND going around Brill at the same time. He managed the latter but not the former, and the ball careered towards the by-line and out for a goal kick. The Luton fans were very amused at his poor touch.

A similar incident happened just two minutes later. This time it was Mullarkey who fed Mohammed, bypassing both James and Pilkington simultaneously with his low reverse pass. Mohammed definitely had the ball in his possession this time but once again chose to go around Brill. He successfully managed this but then went down over the keeper’s trailing leg. The referee quickly waved ‘no penalty’, and the home crowd went nuts, screaming for the referee to book or send off Mohammed for what they saw as shameless playacting. I personally couldn’t tell if it was a penalty or not. Perhaps tellingly though, not many Grays players appealed apart from the guy on the deck.

The incident spurred us into greater efforts going forward, and Gill managed to sting Flitney’s hands with a speculative thirty yarder just two minutes later. What we were really lacking since the early stages though was some width. The intelligent Derek Niven was obviously thinking the same thing, feeding Cadamateri again the very next chance he got. Danny though dribbled infield, drawing the left back out of position. Gnakpa saw the opportunity to move into space and didn’t need an invitation.

From here Gnakpa decided on the first time cross and it proved to be completely the right decision. It was a low one which went straight back to the incoming Cadamateri on the penalty spot. The striker swiped at the ball first time with his right ball and sent it spiralling low past Flitney into the far corner. We’d taken the lead after 36 minutes! I must admit, tt wasn’t the most dramatic of celebrations from either players or fans. It was more one of calm mild relief that we were back in business.

Looking back to Tuesday, I don’t think we would have done anything but win at a canter had we scored the first goal that night. Grays though are a different proposition this season. No sooner had we scored did they rampage down the other end through Ashton and Roddy. The latter tried to feed Mullarkey but it bounced off Pilkington’s leg and came back to Roddy. This time the midfielder tried his luck from twenty five yards. The ball curled and dipped and it was with great relief that Brill was able to tip it around for a corner.

“That was their first shot, believe it or not” Brian reminded me.

“They’ve better than that statistic though” I replied. “Much better”.

Sloma agreed, stretching every muscle in his neck to be the first one onto the ball from the corner. The header wasn’t bad under the circumstances but flashed two yards wide of the far post. They’d had a second attempt now though and fully underlined their intentions for the second half. Not long after Brill’s goal kick to get the ball back in play, the referee blew for half time. On the balance of play I reckoned we just about deserved to be in front. We hadn't been at our best but I had to take into account the quality of the opposition.

[ScottleeSV]

The second half began with a quiet spell, and very welcome it was too. Grays were visibly the team making the biggest effort to try and get and forward, but our defence has generally been solid this season. Even the good teams have struggled to create regular chances against us. Defence wasn’t even something we struggled with last season truth be told. It was our lack of goals which cost us the chance of staying up. Returning to the present and Ashton was booked in the 50th minute for showing his discontent at another attack broken up just beyond the halfway line.

A minute later and Beavon made his first sizable contribution from left back, picking out Gill with an ambitious thirty yard ball into the centre circle. With white shirts suddenly pouring forward, Gill made to set Cadamateri away but then changed his mind, spotting many an away shirt anticipate the play. Instead he set Daniels away down the left. The winger’s eventual cross was deflected behind for our fourth corner of the game.

We hadn’t been attacking the Grays goal nearly enough for me to expect a goal here. The cross from Daniels though went straight onto the head of George Pilkington about eight yards out. The defender powered a firm header at goal only to see Flitney instinctively get his palm in the way on the goal line. No matter though because said palm could only deflect the ball into the top left hand corner of the net. Pilkington had scored his first ever goal under my management!

It was a momentous moment for the ever reliable centre back. He should definitely score more goals from set pieces and he knows it. To celebrate this one he ran back to the halfway line with a huge smile on his face doing some kind of weird drink-to-the-mouth motion which reminded me of Paul Merson back in the day. Memo to diary; ask George Pilkington what that celebration was all about next time you see him.

The game seemingly all but in the bag, the crowd relaxed and so did the players. Minutes later we were suddenly playing champagne football. Gill, Niven, and Daniels all swapped eight or nine passes between them before Gill rolled the ball into Spencer in the penalty area. The on-loan striker is very good at taking shots first time. His effort on this occasion gave the goalkeeper no chance, whizzing past him before he even realised Spencer had hit one. The ball cracked the inside of the post and bounced back out. Argh. That would have made it safe.

On the hour mark I took both my strikers off, sending Guy and Taylor the other way. Taylor of course is a right winger so I put him on the right wing and signalled Danny Cadamateri to move back into his natural position up front. We’ve had a lot of 2-0 home wins this season. Silently, I couldn’t help wondering if this would be the day we would bag three. The crowd didn’t seem to care one way or the other, singing practically non-stop now (sometimes about Luton, sometimes about me).

Naturally then, what happened next was probably only fitting. In the 64th minute Guy and Daniels got themselves involved a terrible mix-up just past the halfway line. Both of them left the ball for each other and defender Cannoville it was who came away with it. Cannoville slid the ball down the right for Ashton to chase, and it was he who curled the ball in first time about a yard in front of Brill. Coming in at the back post was Mullarkey. The striker didn’t need an invitation to head the ball downwards for a certain goal, the ball hitting the goal-line and crashed into the netting halfway up. Oh dear oh dear.

Quick as a flash we had a tense and nervous atmosphere on our hands. Now it was our mob playing the short passing game trying to drain time. I wasn’t sure what to do from here, to be honest. I fancied we were the better side than Grays but to try for the third was risky. At the same time, sitting back was surely to invite certain trouble. I settled for not tossing my hat into the ring at all, instead letting the players take ten minutes to sort it out for themselves. The result was a rather messy period of play where not a lot happened. I suppose that was good.

Curiously, Grays also seemed at a loss as to how tactically to approach the game’s final quarter. They didn’t seem to know whether to go for broke straight away or protect what they had and go for the equaliser a bit later on. Whilst they made their minds up we had a chance in the 72nd minute, Gill teeing up Taylor only for the winger to hit a low one straight at Flitney. Not a great chance that one but definitely a half chance. The substitute looked a bit match-rusty there actually.

Mohammed and Mullarkey on the other hand were still running around up front as if it was the first minute of the match. Just inside the final fifteen minutes, Mohammed teased James for a few seconds before cutting inside and poking a ball through to Mullarkey. The pass almost sent him clean through but for the outstretched boot of Pilkington, who was surely a contender for man of the match (if we could hold out). In the realization Grays still had plenty of pace up top I made my final substitution McCracken for James. I wanted fresh legs at the back.

That said, we were entering the final ten minutes now and the visitors were no longer holding back. Nor were we being very subtle in our intention to drop deeper and deeper. After 82 minutes a cross from Grays substitute Walsh landed in a crowded penalty area and eventually bobbled outwards to Ashton in the penalty area’s semi circle. Ashton turned on a sixpence and fired through a mass of legs. Brill somehow saw the ball coming and got down to it. He fumbled it though and the predatory Mullarkey nipped in to pounce. Brill then leaped back on top of the ball just before the goal-scorer could get there.

It was all Grays now and back they came again with just six minutes left. On this occasion the ball went down the right wing with an out-of-position Upson. His ball into the penalty area was cut out by McCracken but when he tried to control it, seven yards out as he was, the ball went straight to Mullarkey a yard or so adjacent of him. Mullarkey had only a split second to shoot and when he did he practically burst the back of the net. The shot was so hard the net actually rejected the ball, bouncing it back out like the work of a vertical trampoline. I had to admit that was some finish.

The crowd seemed to go through three stages after grief after this development. First they went silent for a minute. Then they booed when we lost the ball from the kick-off. Then Gill won a crunch tackle somewhere on the far side and they got back on our side again, cheering and waving us forward. If we were going to get our lead back though we didn’t have long to do it; there were less than five minutes on the clock by my watch.

Daniels decided he was the man to be a hero, weaving his way this way and that towards the penalty area as injury time approached. With opposition defenders backing off and backing off, the winger slipped one into Guy who immediately flipped one back to him inside the penalty area. Daniels took the ball on again but was checked by Cannoville, who left his knee out to bundle Daniels over before he could shoot. Penalty!

Or not! The referee didn’t give it. As you can imagine, the crowd let him have both barrels for this ‘mistake’. So did Daniels and Niven, the former of which only managed to get himself into the book for his troubles. Two minutes of injury time later and the game was over. We had now gone a second successive match without winning. As everybody trudged off the field of play, the locals booed the referee (at least I hope that’s who they were booing).

---------

FINAL SCORE (Att - 4484)

Luton Town 2 (Cadamateri 36, Pilkington 51)

Grays Athletic 2 (Mullarkey 64, 86)

---------

(other results)

Burton 2-0 Northwich

Crawley 2-1 Cambridge

Ebbfleet 0-1 York

Histon 2-1 Tamworth

Kettering 2-2 Weymouth

Kidderminster 0-0 Salisbury

Mansfield 2-2 Macclesfield

Oxford 3-0 Droylsden

Rushden 2-0 Forest Green

Stevenage 3-2 St Albans

Woking 0-1 AFC Wimbledon

[font=Courier New]| Pos   | Inf   | Team          |       | Pld   | Won   | Drn   | Lst   | For   | Ag    | G.D.  | Pts   | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 1st   |       | Luton         |       | 14    | 10    | 3     | 1     | 30    | 13    | +17   | 33    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 2nd   |       | Rushden       |       | 14    | 10    | 2     | 2     | 32    | 12    | +20   | 32    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 3rd   |       | York City     |       | 14    | 8     | 3     | 3     | 23    | 13    | +10   | 27    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 4th   |       | AFC Wimbledon |       | 14    | 8     | 2     | 4     | 27    | 15    | +12   | 26    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 5th   |       | Burton        |       | 14    | 8     | 2     | 4     | 24    | 19    | +5    | 26    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 6th   |       | Grays         |       | 14    | 7     | 4     | 3     | 28    | 15    | +13   | 25    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 7th   |       | Salisbury     |       | 14    | 6     | 6     | 2     | 19    | 14    | +5    | 24    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 8th   |       | Stevenage     |       | 14    | 6     | 6     | 2     | 25    | 24    | +1    | 24    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 9th   |       | Oxford        |       | 14    | 7     | 2     | 5     | 26    | 15    | +11   | 23    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 10th  |       | Cambridge     |       | 14    | 6     | 5     | 3     | 21    | 15    | +6    | 23    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 11th  |       | Weymouth      |       | 14    | 5     | 7     | 2     | 22    | 16    | +6    | 22    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 12th  |       | Forest Green  |       | 14    | 6     | 4     | 4     | 17    | 13    | +4    | 22    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 13th  |       | Crawley       |       | 14    | 7     | 0     | 7     | 24    | 24    | E     | 21    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 14th  |       | Histon        |       | 14    | 4     | 6     | 4     | 22    | 19    | +3    | 18    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 15th  |       | Woking        |       | 14    | 5     | 3     | 6     | 13    | 14    | -1    | 18    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 16th  |       | Mansfield     |       | 14    | 4     | 5     | 5     | 23    | 28    | -5    | 17    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 17th  |       | Ebbsfleet     |       | 14    | 4     | 3     | 7     | 14    | 19    | -5    | 15    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 18th  |       | Kettering     |       | 14    | 3     | 4     | 7     | 21    | 26    | -5    | 13    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 19th  |       | Kidderminster |       | 14    | 2     | 4     | 8     | 15    | 25    | -10   | 10    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 20th  |       | Northwich     |       | 14    | 3     | 1     | 10    | 10    | 28    | -18   | 10    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 21st  |       | St Albans     |       | 14    | 2     | 3     | 9     | 12    | 30    | -18    | 9    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 22nd  |       | Macclesfield  |       | 14    | 2     | 3     | 9     | 11    | 29    | -18    | 9    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 23rd  |       | Tamworth      |       | 14    | 2     | 2     | 10    | 9     | 24    | -17    | 8    | [/font]
[font=Courier New]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/font]
[font=Courier New]| 24th  |       | Droylsden     |       | 14    | 2     | 2     | 10    | 18    | 36    | -18    | 8    | [/font]
[font=Courier New][size=3][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|[/size] [/size][/font]

[banglared]

Meh, it'll be tough with one automatic promotion spot.

[michael62]

great story as per usual

was in an exc box for last night game totally different prespective of the match we were right above the luton dugout intreasting to hear what the manager was saying throughout the game

[ScottleeSV]

It will be tough, Banglared, and to lose a 6 point lead so quickly is frustrating. Just got to plod on though I guess

Thanks Michael. You wouldn't have wanted to hear what I was saying in the second half of the Grays match, that's for sure

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

03/10/09 - The inside of heaven

“It’s just down there on the left, so you might as well park here”.

“Rightio”.

With much more of a juddering halt than intended, I brought the car to a standstill and gathered my thoughts. It was just past 11pm and right now I was in Heavenly Hatters country for what I hoped would be an impromptu meeting with manager/owner/proprietor Randy Begher. Originally I’d hoped to go last night, but on second thoughts had decided it wouldn’t be wise to not get an early night ahead of the game.

“I must be the most understanding girlfriend in the world” said Chantelle, adjusting the mirror to apply more lip gloss. “Not many women would let their man walk into a strip club on his own”.

“Yeah” I replied. “It’s a good job it was you who started all this really. I wouldn’t have fancied trying to explain to you blind why I needed to come here tonight”.

“Well don’t get used to it. This is a one-time allowance”.

“Don’t worry. I’ve no intention of coming back a second time”.

I wasn’t quite sure at what point we’d become official about our relationship. Looking over at her as she was right now though, dressed to the hilt in white boots, a white skirt, and a purple glittering top, I was nothing but glad we were official. The idea tonight was that once we got out of the car, Chantelle was going to walk back into town and meet her friends in a nightclub where as I was going into the strip club. Simple really.

“Come on then, let’s get going”.

The two of us got out the car and briefly embraced. Then I kissed her goodbye and waved her on her way. I was wearing a suit and tie tonight; I’d never been to a strip joint before but I reckoned you’d probably have to look prim and proper to get past the bouncers. There was no queue outside Heavenly Hatters so I politely nodded at the men on the door and wandered in.

The song Toxic by Britney Spears was playing inside. Resisting the urge to shake my head disapprovingly, I liaised with a woman sitting in a booth inside the foyer and parted with three ten pound notes. After that I looked up confidently and strolled further on into the heart of where I was. The lights were dim in here. Everywhere seemed dark yet still light enough for people to see where they were going. Once I'd shut the door to the foyer behind me, I stood nervously on the spot and looked around through the smoky gloom.

“Yeah baby, swing it baby!” were the first words I heard over the music, quickly followed by more on the same theme. “Oh yeah! Hurl them, baby! Swing them, baby! Dance like my lady, baby! That’s my baby!”

The repetitive shouting was coming from a short Asian man by the huge circular stage in the centre of the room. A stripper was bending down provocatively in her undies at the very tip of where the stage ended, and the Asian was clearly liking what he was seeing.

“That’s it baby – feel them baby! Touch them, baby! Swivel them, baby! Work them, baby! Oh yeah, swing those babies!”

This might have been annoying but for the Britney song almost drowning him out. Around the rest of the room, up to forty or fifty other men were sat supping drinks and watching the action. There were even some women in the mix too. Most of the room was content to watch in silence, although a small minority (like the Asian) couldn’t help showing how excited they were. One man in an afro was shaking wildly in his seat, and another much older man in a flat cap was tapping his leg to the music. And then were the persistent whistlers, who probably totalled five or six.

One woman, a tall brunette in black leather trousers and a white T-shirt, got off her seat when she noticed me and came to say hello.

“Hey honey, how are you?”

“Very good” I replied, clearing my throat. “Randy Begher anywhere?”

“We only have randy women in here, honey” she replied, throwing her arms around my neck. “Would you like a dance?”

“No I meant I’m looking for Randy, the guy who runs the place. Is he around?”

“I don’t think he’s here until later on. A dance or two might help pass the time until then though”.

As deftly and in as good a natured way as I could, I lifted the woman’s arms off my neck and smiled. In that moment, I remembered the names Stacy and Leanne and couldn’t help wondering if I was now looking at one of them. She was certainly hot stuff whoever she was. If this had been a month or so ago I’m not so sure I would have turned down what she was offering. Meanwhile, near the stage...

“Slide them down, baby! You know you want to baby!”

“Will you shut the f__k up?” shouted somebody from somewhere.

That second voice sounded familiar, like maybe it belonged to somebody big and fat. I made to look around but the woman in front of me quickly put her hand up to my cheek and brought my head back to face her again.

“I’m still here, now how’s about that dance? Seeing as you’ve only just arrived, I could get you a free drink to go with it if you want? What do you say?”

“Now that you mention it, a drink sounds good. I’ll do without the dance though, and I don’t mind paying for the drink. Where’s the bar?”

The woman sighed and finally gave up the ghost, stepping aside and pointing to somewhere around the other side of the stage. Without another word I strolled past her and began to make my way. There were two more nice looking women behind the small bar I soon came face to face, and the sight of one of them in particular literally made my jaw drop. It didn’t drop because of how fit she was - It dropped because I knew her.

(‘Oh you’ve got to be sh_tting me')

[pooman2279]

“Slide them down, baby! You know you want to baby!”

“Will you shut the f__k up?” shouted somebody from somewhere.

That second voice sounded familiar, like maybe it belonged to somebody big and fat.

HA, That was brilliant

Loving this story mate.

[banglared]

Hmm... it has to be someone fit I think.

Nicky, Cassie are the obvious ones. Well, maybe not Nicky, Darren would've noticed. Charlotte? :o

[Welwyn]

I think it'll be Chantelle

[doucetterj99]

I think it'll be Chantelle

Don't post at all, since I am an avid lurker, but have been following this since the start (and loving it). My vote is for Charlotte, or as I said to myself at work when I read it: "it's gotta be the old girlfriend". Got a few funny looks from the people sitting around me for that.

[bambi holt]

Just caught up with this story after a couple of weeks, glad to say it is still a fantastic read.

my guess for girl in club is either Cassie or Alison!!

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks for some very nice comments from all, and hi to Doucettrj for the first time. Glad you like the story, mate.

As for the 'guesses', the award for savviest forum detective goes to Bambi Holt. Better luck next time to the rest of you.

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

03/10/09 - Alison in wonderland

“Well well” I said, putting both hands on the bar about half a yard apart. “This is some turn up for the books”.

“Certainly is” Alison replied, glancing nervously sideways at her assistant.

She needn’t have worried though. The music provided at least a decent amount of protection from prying ears, and the assistant was about to be distracted by a customer anyway. Just to be on the safe side, Alison shuffled a bit further along the bar and leant in close. Judging by the smart red waistcoat she was wearing I quickly guessed she was exempt from having to get her clothes off. Shame really.

“Where are the pint taps?”

“Aren’t any. You’re not in The Hatters Arms now, James”.

“And you’re not in your police station, so what’s the deal?”

“Sorry, can’t talk about it. I can get you a bottled lager though, which is about as close to familiar as it’s going to get for you I’m afraid”.

“Fine”.

As she spun a hundred and eighty degrees and ducked down, I brought my wallet out and pulled a fiver from it. She looked a bit like a snooker referee in that outfit of hers – red waistcoat, white shirt, black trousers etc. All it needed was the white gloves.

“Bit old for this place aren’t you?” I asked, accepting a bottle of Becks in return for my note. “I mean I’m not saying you’re not attractive or anything. You are attractive. But don’t you think thirty three or thirty four is pushing it a bit for a Heavenly Hatters employee? A younger copper probably would have been a more convincing bet for this gig, whatever the gig is”.

“I’m the new bar manager here. Thirties is about right”.

“And you’re definitely not going to tell me what you’re up to?”

“Nope”.

“Well it must be something to do with drugs if you’ve only just started working here. It can’t be a coincidence this place was linked to a drug peddler last week and now you’re here all of a sudden”.

“I couldn’t possibly comment either way”.

“And presumably the previous bar manager is now on paid disappearance leave courtesy of the good old taxpaying public?”

“Couldn’t comment”.

Irritably I took a sip from the bottle and turned to face the stage, leaning back on the bar. The dancer who had been getting all the attention from the Asian was now waving and walking off to huge cheers. Her turn had ended.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Alison asked. "I never thought you were that interested in women. It even crossed my mind you might be gay at one point".

“I came to see Randy Begher, whoever he is. And yes, before you ask, it’s about the continued presence of my players in this club. I want to make sure this Randy guy has got their back”.

“You mean for when little dangers like Stacy Potts and Leanne Walters come calling?”

“Waving their little gold magnets. Exactly”.

Okay I hadn’t been strictly honest with Alison there about my reason for seeing Randy, but hey it’s not like she’d ever been that honest with me before. Besides, as the real reason was sort of connected to the reason she was no doubt here (even if she wouldn’t confirm it), sharing it with her would only cajole her into warning me to going home. Nope, it was better to box clever over this one.

“Randy’s not here" she replied cagily. "He was here last night but I doubt he would have talked to you. You’re best off catching him on a midweek when the place is dead. That way you might have a chance of understanding what he’s saying to you”.

“Foreigner?”

“Let’s just say you’ll understand better when you see him”.

“Okay, what day will he be in?”

The red haired assistant had finished with her customer but wasn’t showing any signs of approaching us. For the time being she seemed happy to stay put with her arms crossed, and there was no way she could hear us from where she was. Aformentioned customer meanwhile, yet another Asian man, remained at the bar sipping what looked like a whiskey and coke. He was also too many yards away to hear me and Alison over this music (now Pokerface by Lady Gaga).

“I’m not sure” she eventually replied after ample thinking time had elapsed. “I can go check though. Wait here”.

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that”.

Throwing a small towel over her shoulder, Alison disappeared into a back room and the assistant followed suit. In the meantime I risked a glance at the Asian only to see that he was also glancing at me.

“Nice night” I said glumly.

“Skunk?!” he exclaimed in surprise, his face lighting up. “Is that really you?”

(‘Oh no’).

“I errr think I might have once used that name yeah”.

“I thought so” he replied, sliding up the bar towards me. “I’m Otter. Do you remember me?”

“Otter. But of course” I lied, sipping my bottled beer at a frantic pace.

“Listen. Please don’t tell Bear you saw me here. He’d tear me a new asshole!”

“Why?”

“Bear thinks western women are all fake plastic little sl_ts. Dojo members are strictly forbidden from having sex with such women, or indulging in any pleasurable activities with them of any kind. Coming to this place would definitely fall under the second category”.

“What do you guys do for girlfriends and things then?”

“Bear gets cheap Bangkok whores flown in for us by mail order. He says our spiritual lives are much healthier and cleaner this way”.

“I’ll bet”

Suddenly a huge cheer broke out from the main stage. Another act was trotting on, a tall brown haired thing in a cheerleader outfit. Otter nearly went into a spasm when he realised. Getting copious drops of alcohol down his smart black suit, he quickly gulped his drink down and wiped his mouth.

“Stacy Potts!” he cried excitedly. “I’ve been waiting all night for this one! Are you coming to sit down?”

“No I’m alright here”.

“Suit yourself”.

“Word of advice though” I said, leaning into his ear. “Don’t let her take you back to a hotel”.

Otter yanked himself away from me and straightened his tie, even though it didn’t need straightening. He suddenly had a rather repulsed expression on his face.

“What are you – like – the worst advice guy in the world? Later!”

Two minutes later Alison returned with the information I needed. Randy Begher would apparently be back this way on Thursday, and if I wanted to catch him, that was the day to return.

“Right, I’m off” I said, passing her an empty beer bottle. “See you later, alligator”.

“Aren’t you going to wait around for your players to turn up? They usually come in for the last few dances”.

“No not this time”.

With that I began to walk out. This hadn’t been a great venture on the whole but at least I had the possibility of a second stab at the main objective. The only problem was I’d have to wait until Thursday to take it.

(‘Not to worry though. Chantelle will cheer me up for sure).

On reflection it seemed to have been a night for inadvertently bumping into people I didn’t want to bump into. Alison, Otter, even Stacy I suppose. Not only that, but when I exited through the front door and zipped my jacket up, I couldn’t help noticing that one of the bouncers was bald.

(‘Call me paranoid, but there’s bald, bald, and then there’s Serbian bald, and that looked like the very latter’).

On the other hand, maybe it had just been a long day.

[banglared]

Serbian bald... hint there?

[ScottleeSV]

You never know, banglared

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

05/10/09 - Pale imitations

I arrived at the office early afternoon with a very important phone call to make. The departures of Jamie Guy and Scott Spencer are fast approaching us now. By my calculations I’ll be able to play them in two more games and that will be it; off back to their parent clubs they will go. That leaves me with the following strikers – Michael Bridges, Danny Cadamateri, Dean Bowditch, and Aiden Quinn.

Of those players, Bowditch is long term injured, Bridges is out of form, Cadamateri has spent most of the season on the right wing, and Quinn is simply too substandard for this division. I desperately need at least one new striker on a loan deal if I can get one. I’ve admittedly been putting this task off for the last couple of weeks but now is the time for action, especially in light of our dodgy recent form.

I did make one last attempt to renew the Guy and Spencer deals last week but was turned down on both counts. Everton simply won’t talk to me about Spencer anymore. Guy’s club, Colchester, will talk to me but won’t accept our offer to pay only 10% of his wages. They want us to pay 20%, and I can’t get the authority to go over 10. Erica’s been a complete bitch over this situation.

“Hi is that Dean Glover?” I asked, curling the phone wire around my finger.

“It certainly is” the Port Vale manager replied. “Thanks for returning my call, James”.

“No problem. The message I got said you might have a striker for me”.

“Indeed I do”.

Glover wasn’t someone I had a rapport with on the same level as say, Tony Pulis. I had though met him twice before when Vale played Luton last season. The Valiants were one of only two sides to beat us at Kenilworth Road, scoring two goals in the last ten minutes to sink us. Later in the season we regained some pride by drawing 0-0 at Vale Park. I remembered Glover as being a polite if unremarkable opposite number, gracious in both the amazing comeback and the disappointing home draw.

“Good stuff. Who are you offering?”

“Heard of James Lawrie?”

“Nope”.

“Well let me sell him to you. He’s a young lad of twenty years old, striker, right footed. He’s been capped by the Northern Ireland Under 21’s. I’ve already floated the idea of Luton past him and he’s keen”.

“Has he played in your first team?” I asked, stroking my chin.

“No, but last season he went on loan to Forest Green in the Blue Square Premier. Whilst there he scored seven goals in twelve games. Now the way I figure it, if he can get that kind of ratio at a side like Forest Green, imagine what he could do at Luton with better service”.

He’d convinced me. Quickly I agreed to the offer, moving onto the terms of the deal right there and then. Thus Lawrie will be joining us for an initial three month move as soon as Spencer and Guy depart. We’ll be paying 10% of his wages and hopefully he can recapture the form he briefly showed at The Lawn last season. Ironically, the first game he might end up playing in will be away to Forest Green. You couldn’t make it up.

“I take it that went well?” Brenda asked, once I’d put the phone down.

“Very well. I’ve just secured a new loan signing, a guy called James Lawrie”.

“Excellent”.

Brenda was the only other person in the office at the moment. The others were most likely on lunch break. I must admit I was at a bit of a loss as to what to do now that call was over. I could have sworn there was something else I’d pencilled in for this afternoon but I was having a memory drain. As I tried to remember what it was, I got my phone out and thought about texting Chantelle to ask how she was doing. I’d barely typed two words though before the office door opened and Darren walked in.

“Aha! There you are” he said with a grin. “I’ve been looking forward to you coming in all morning”.

“Why?”

Darren answered in song..

“Because there’s a loving in your eyes all the waaaay!” he warbled, doing a little dance in front of my desk. “If I listen to your lies would you saaaaay?”

“Oh don’t bother, Darren”.

I’d completely forgotten about that damn Live Bunny broadcast on Saturday morning. Had everybody seen it, I wondered? Regardless, if there was one good thing to come from the boy's cheekiness, it had jogged my memory as to what the other thing was I needed to check out today.

“I’m a mannnnn” he continued meanwhile, clicking his fingers for added effect. “without convicccction! I’m a mannnnn.....”

“Enough enough enough already!” I cried, standing up. “Get back to your desk. I’ve got something interesting you can do”.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Look on the FA website and see who we’ve got in the FA Cup 4th Qualifying Round. It should be up by now”.

“Oh yeah, the cup draw! I forgot about that”.

“They’ve been laughing about you in that Live Bunny suit all morning” Brenda said.

“Yeah I’ll bet they have, the gits”.

It took Darren about two or three minutes to load up the right page on the right website. Then, after moving his eyes down the list of fixtures, he chuckled and looked up at me.

“Away to Wingate and Finchley”.

“Really? Jesus. Who the hell are they? Better them than a conference team, I suppose”.

“I’ve heard of them but I don’t where it is” Darren commented. “I’ll look it up. I need to update the website anyway”.

“Okay, you do that. I need to sort out the paperwork for the new guy. Oh! I didn’t tell you yet did I? I’ve arranged a new loan signing, a striker no less”.

“Really? Who?”

Before I could answer, the door opened again. It was Caroline and Nicky. Caroline grinned when she saw me but other than that did nothing. Nicky though immediately moved towards my desk and began to swivel her hips around doing a cheesy little dance, complete with vocals.

“Loving would be easy if your colours were like my dreeeeams! Red gold and greeeeeen! Red gold and greeeeen”.

“You know what?!” I exclaimed over the singing, my eyes on Darren. “Now I’m not going to tell you who the new player is. You can just wait until he turns up”.

“What?! Why? It’s her doing the dancing, not me!”

“Yeah but it was you who encouraged her” I replied, moving around my desk and towards the door. “Like Nicky would watch Live Bunny off her own back!”

Nicky stopped dancing and laughed. Brenda and Caroline meanwhile shook their heads and made to resume office normality.

“Oh come on, just tell me” Darren pleaded, making a gesture with his hands like a hard-done-by Italian footballer.

“No” I said firmly. “But Brenda might tell you though. She heard me on the phone. Who knows, if you’re nice to her she might just trade the answer in for a few hand-delivered coffees”.

With that I casually walked out and shut the door, my secretary smiling at me as I did so.

[michael62]

good as always its the playoffs for the town going to be hard we either face york or rushden in the semi

[hasdgfas]

Would just like to say that I'm really enjoying this story. Thank you for writing it.

Just one thing though,

Is it James Lawrie or Paul Lawrie? You have called him both.

[ScottleeSV]

The playoffs are always unpredictable, Michael, but I'm right behind you

Thanks Hasdg. The correct name is James Lawrie. I imagine I got the name Paul Lawrie from watching the golfer. Anyway, I've gone back and made the edit now. Cheers.

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

08/10/09 - Mr Lover, Mr Manager

I had a nice lie-in this morning, made ten times more satisfying because it was in Chantelle’s bed. As I lay naked under the thick black duvet, her head to the side of my cheek and her arm across my waist, I blew a few loose strands of blonde hair away from my mouth and glanced at the bedside clock. It was getting on for midday. I would have to get up soon. I had a very important errand to run today and I’m not talking about James Lawrie. First however there was a minor bit of awkwardness to deal with.

“Chantelle?” I whispered, testing the waters to see if she was awake.

“Yeah?” she replied groggily, lifting her head up and kissing my chin.

“I need to go back to Heavenly Hatters today, and I’d probably be best getting going. You do remember me telling you Randy Begher would be there today?”

“Oh. Yeah. Fine. You go for it. I need to go shopping anyway”.

It was hard to tell from that flurry of short sentences whether she was irritated or simply half asleep.

“Are you sure you’re alright about that? You don’t sound convinced”.

“I’m fine. I’m just not much of a morning person. It was hard enough getting up to drop Luke off at school this morning. It always is, if you must know”.

With that she slowly clambered out of bed and wiped her eyes. Then she picked up my boxer shorts and jeans and tossed them loosely over me.

“There” she said, walking off towards the bathroom. “You get going, it’s fine”.

For a moment I watched her leave, captivated by her naked form. She’s got a tattoo on her back, just next to one of her hips. It’s a piece of Korean writing set to the background of a tablet full of wavy lines. The translation apparently is James kiss this, but I suspect Chantelle might have had too much wine at the time of providing the answer.

She wasn’t kidding about not being a morning person. Twenty minutes later when I was sat in the living room having a coffee, she was still pottering about upstairs somewhere. On early impressions she seems to be one of those women who take an eternal age to get ready for anything, even a trip to the local corner shop. Anyway, I was eventually wrestled out of my boredom by a surprise phone call, from Dilic of all people.

“Mr Dilic” I said pleasantly, recognising the caller I.D. “How are you?”

“Let me skip ze niceties and ask you a question – are you intending to go to ze Heavenly strip club today?”

“Yeah” I said slowly. “How do you know about that?”

“You’re not ze only person who finks it coincidence zat ze drug dealer comes from there, and also ze rape problem also from there”.

“James?” boomed Chantelle’s voice from upstairs. “Have you seen my mobile?”

“I’m listening” I said to Dilic, ignoring Chantelle for the time being.

“Vell, one of my men works at ze strip club as a bouncer. He’s not ze investigating type, but I asked him recently to keep his eyes and ears open down at zat club. The other night, a rumour went around ze club staff zat ze Luton football manager was asking when Randy Begher – vat a name! – would next be in ze club. Zat day was vor today. I only know one Luton FC manager, and only one reason why he vud want to meet Randy”.

“Yeah you're on the right page. I’m going to go down there today and ask Randy what his game is. Even if he denies deliberately attacking the football club, I might at least get a read on his body language”.

“I’m not sure zis is a good idea. You’re aren’t going to gain much from it, and from what I hear of zis Randy, he is very angry man. If I ver you I vud leave this one alone vor now”.

That sounded like Dilic’s subtle way of telling me he definitely didn’t want me to go. In presumption that it was, I opened my mouth to answer back. Cue Chantelle though appearing in the living room doorway, for whom I momentarily broke off to look at.

“Oh for f__k’s sake” she said, seeing me on the phone.

And with that she ran back up the stairs again, still presumably looking for her own phone. When I eventually readdressed Dilic it was with a much more careful tone than I’d intended before the interruption.

“Just so that we’re clear with each other, are you ordering me not to go and see Begher?”

“No. Go if you must. Maybe you vill learn something after all. I insist though you take a chaperon, just in case there is any trouble. I vill arrange for somebody to meet you outside ze club. What time will you be arriving there?”

“No really, I really don’t need......”

“Yes you do” he barked, reminding me somewhat of the old Dilic. “I insist. Now I ask you again, what time vill you be there?”

“In about half an hour, at a guess”.

“Right. Half an hour. Got it. I vill send someone”.

“Thanks, Mr Dilic. That’s very kind of you”.

“It’s no problem. Now I vill say bye”.

“Bye”.

Folding my phone shut I went into the hallway and looked up the stairs.

“I’m setting off now!” I shouted.

No vocal answer was forthcoming (although I could still hear her rummaging around). Sighing depressingly I turned on my heels and made for the door. At that moment though Chantelle called my name and almost simultaneously appeared up above.

“I’ve found it” she said, hurrying down the stairs. “It had fallen behind the drawers”.

“I’m glad you found it” I replied.

On reaching me she put her arms around my neck near the door and softened her voice.

“I wasn’t trying to be a stroppy cow” she said, kissing me briefly on the lips. “I’ll see you later”.

“No worries. See you later”.

-----------

Half an hour proved something of an exaggeration. I actually reached Heavenly Hatters in less than fifteen minutes. After parking up in more or less the same spot as the other night, I exited the car and wandered down the pavement towards the entrance. There didn’t seem to be anybody in the vicinity fitting the description of bald-thug-for-hire though, and for a minute I didn’t think whoever was coming had yet come.

And then as if by magic two doors opened on a car across the road. If I’d been thinking Dilic might send me Brute though, or some other hard-as-nails gorilla, I was dead wrong. He’d sent me two buffoons instead.

“Well lookie what we have here” said one of the men. “I do believe it’s the famous Mr Manager, alive and well”.

“Yep” agreed the other man. “It’s definitely Mr Manager alright”.

[banglared]

Oh dear...

[ScottleeSV]

08/10/09 - R & B

I quickly decided against trying to persuade Towzer and Garry not to follow me into the strip club, which let’s be honest, was probably what they were expecting from me. Just like in the old days, Towzer was distinguishable by his badly trimmed moustache and Columbo-esque raincoat, Garry by his premature baldness and limited vocabulary. First Alison and now these two dumbasses - Heavenly Hatters was reacquainting me with a lot of people I would probably have preferred to leave in the past. The sooner I got this business with Randy Begher out of the way the better.

“I haven’t got time for you two” I opened with, making a point to not break my stride. “If you absolutely have to follow me into this place then fine. If not, then don’t. It doesn’t matter to me either way”.

“Touchy isn’t he?” said Towzer, crossing the street.

“Very touchy” Garry replied.

For the briefest of moments I thought they were going to ignore Dilic’s protection order and give me a good beating instead (or at least try to), revenge for five months ago when I’d taken them both on and won. Instead however they stepped either side of me by the front door and kept their fists very much in their pockets.

“Okay, let’s get this over with” I said, and with that we entered the premises.

The atmosphere inside the large stage area was far different to what it had been on Saturday. Of course it was – nobody was in here. There was also no smoke and not as much music. The tune that was playing, some kind of hip hop track, was turned down low and not making a particularly great impact. The fact there was a tune at all though told us somebody was here, somewhere. We just had to find him/her/them.

Sure enough, as we walked around to the back of the circular stage in the centre of the room, distant voices became apparent. They were several of them, and they were coming from....

“Over there” Towzer pointed, his finger aiming at a comfortable looking velvet booth over by one of the walls.

“Oh yeah” I replied. “I see them”.

There were three figures, one man and two women. The male of the trio just HAD to be Randy Begher. He was a black man, dressed in a ridiculously over-the-top pink suit from head to toe. He also wore dark shades and appeared to be chewing gum. On the table in front of him was a cocktail which practically a miniature jungle growing out of it.

The two women were sat either side of the black man with their arms wrapped around his neck and chest. I recognised one of them as Stacy Potts, the cheerleader dancer from Saturday night. This afternoon she was fitted out in a flickering silver dress. The other girl, a browner skinned dancer I’d never seen before, was wearing a black dress which did not flicker. It was however equally revealing both above the knees and below the neckline.

Leading the way in a kind of Dambusters formation with me up top and the other two slightly behind both left and right, I marched up to the booth and stopped short by about a couple of yards. Stacy and the other woman immediately looked at me and then at Randy, who in contrast to his lovelies didn't seem to be looking at any of us. He was though the first person to speak.

“Is one of these motherf_ckers the guy who was asking around on Saturday night?”

Randy appeared to be asking the question not to us but to Stacy. Meanwhile Towzer and Garry were both having a snigger, presumably at the pink suit.

“Yeah” Stacy replied. “The guy in the middle”.

“Is something funny, bitch?” Randy asked, ignoring Stacy and twisting his head to face Towzer.

“Yeah it is” Towzer replied. “That suit – is that how you let other men know you’re on the market?”

“Do I look look like a queer to you, motherf_cker?”

As he said this Randy opened and closed the palms of both hands (resting as they were on the shoulder blades of two different babes).

“Well funnily enough....”

“Okay hold on, gentlemen!” I exclaimed. “We’re getting off on the wrong foot. Now before we go any further, can you just confirm for me that you are in fact Randy Begher?”

Instead of answer the question Randy spat his chewing gum into my upper torso. After hitting its target it dropped meagrely to the floor and laid still. The two girls both giggled lamely.

“I’ll presume that’s a yes” I continued. “Anyway, I’m sure you know who I am and why I’m here. I’m the Luton Town manager, and I’ve become somewhat concerned recently that you’ve been launching some kind of misguided vendetta against our club. Now I could be wrong about this. Coincidences do happen in life after all. However, it strikes me odd that.....”

“Homey” Randy interrupted. “I ain’t got all f_cking day”.

“Hey!” Towzer shouted at him, leaning over the table. “If you don’t want that cocktail rammed up your black ass I suggest you start co-operating!”

“Oh you think I’m afraid of you, dawg?!”

“Oh you’d better be afraid!” Garry contributed.

This was hopeless. I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this. It wasn’t just the touchy personalities of my chaperons which were the problem either. Even if I’d been interviewing Begher alone I don’t think I would have coaxed much out of him. He was an idiot; that was much I’d gauged from his very first sentence. You can’t hold an intelligent conversation with somebody like that.

“Listen, dickhead!” Towzer shouted, persisting in his war of words as I continued to shrink into the background. “Were you here the night of the rape accusations?”

“F_ck you! I was out rolling with my bitches, bitch!”

“Which bitches?” Garry asked gormlessly.

“Well let me introduce you” Randy said sarcastically, pointing first at Stacy and then the other girl. “This is bitch number one, and this is bitch number two. I would tell you which one’s better at sucking my beagle, but I’m too much of a gentleman”.

I’d heard enough by now. Without even waiting for the other two I turned around and began to head back out. I really couldn't tell you what were the final words I heard before opening the door because it all just sounded like three men shouting over the top of each other. What a waste of my time. What a waste of everybody's time.

When I got outside I checked my phone and found a text from Chantelle.

Hey. Are u done yet? R u coming back straight after? I miss u. X

A light breeze began to blow against my cheeks as I clicked on the appropriate hotkey to start my reply.

Yeah, heading back now. Miss u 2 x

I’d barely finished typing before Towzer and Garry bustled past me into the street.

“Hey, what happened?” I asked, following them across the road. “You didn’t smack him one did you?”

“Well, Garry here was about to, but then he changed his mind. We both did actually”.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well” said Towzer, opening the driver’s door and leaning over the top of it. “Mr Pink in there says he doesn’t actually own the club, somebody else does”.

“Who?”

“Jack Shandy. Heard of him?”

I had actually. He’d been on the local news a few times, usually in connection with unsolved crime and the like. Before I could completely scan my memory banks for what I remembered though, Towzer broke the silence

“Well anyway, he’s not a guy you mess around with. Trust me we used to work for him. If I were you I’d just go home and hope that pr!ck in there doesn’t do anything else to annoy the football club”.

“How do you know he’s telling the truth that Shandy owns the club?”

“Best not to take any chances, believe me. Do you remember that night Dilic almost cut you up?”

“Uh-huh”.

“Yeah, well, if that had been Jack, he probably would have cut you up for real. Let this one go”.

And with that Towzer ducked his head down inside the car. As the doors then quickly slammed shut on both sides, I slipped past the bonnet and onto the pavement. How could I forget the night of the warehouse? Jorkic and his saw, Dilic and his revelations, Wheelie and his black hood.

‘Dave Wheelie!’

“Hey!” I called out, rushing back to Towzer’s side of the car and banging on the window.

The engine had been turned on by this point but in reaction to a wave of Towzer’s hand, Garry turned it off again.

“What is it?” Towzer asked, winding his window down.

“You were there that night at the warehouse. Do you know where Dave Wheelie ended up living after that night? I need to find him”.

“Why?”

“Do you know where he is or not?”

“Even if I did, it’s none of your business”.

This time I didn’t respond very sharply, and Towzer gestured for Garry to turn the engine back on. Just as his hand was reaching for the ignition key though, I made a snap decision...

“If you tell me where he’s living I’ll give you a thousand pounds.....each”.

The grubby hand fell away from the ignition again. Towzer meanwhile just stared at me gobsmacked. Then, ever so gradually, his moustache began to form a smile.

[ScottleeSV]

10/10/09 - The grand old Duke of York, he had more than eleven men

As a brief epilogue to the other day, let me reveal that Towzer and Garry did accept my offer but on the condition we agreed to a rain-check. Apparently they had somewhere else to be after leaving Heavenly Hatters. I did too actually so it worked out well for everyone. Having now swapped phone numbers with Towzer I can only presume he’ll get back to me sometime over the next few days. We’ll just have to see.

This afternoon we’re away to York City in what must surely be regarded as the pick of the afternoon fixtures. The Minstermen are just six points behind us in third place at the moment. Last season they led the Blue Square Premier for quite a while only to fall apart at the end, eventually finishing 6th. They still have their prolific marksman from that campaign however, Australian Daniel McBreen. He scored twenty six league goals last season so we’ll have to keep an eye out for him. It must also be noted York lost just two home games that entire campaign.

Since their beginnings in 1908, York have spent a large percentage of their existence in the football league, and at one time rose as high as the second tier. The past decade though has arguably been their worst. Not only have they dropped into the semi-professional ranks for the first time in seven decades, the club has also fought its way through a difficult battle to simply survive at all (Former chairman Douglas Craig all but tried to shut the club a few years back).

Now for the team news, and I’m pleased to be welcoming back Kevin Nicholls today after a two game absence. He replaces Derek Niven in the centre of midfield. Niven moves out onto the left side to hopefully give us a sturdier foothold as the away team than a free-spirited Charlie Daniels would have done. That’s not to say that I’m dropping Daniels – he falls into the left back slot today at the expense of George Beavon. Up front I’m also rotating Guy for Spencer again. The one blackspot is that it's come to my attention Keith Keane will probably be out for several more matches.

So what about York as a town? Well the first thing to say is that I wish it was Luton. The second is to point out that were I to fully describe my thoughts and feelings on the place, I’d probably be here all day. Put simply it’s a wonderful city. I could come here as the visiting manager dozens of times and not ever run out of things to do. If only the current football set-up was on a par with its 1970’s heyday; then I could aspire to actually manage here.

Operating alone as I usually do (Chantelle sadly did not fancy lugging it all this way for a football match), I started by taking in a museum late in the morning and then moved into the town centre after midday. There are several museums in York and the one I rather chose at random in the end was the Castle Museum, based inside the actual remains of an old castle. It turned out to be more a crumbling fort than a castle, having said that. Don’t for one minute imagine that huge thing you see in Braveheart. Still, I had a good time wandering through the available rooms and I didn’t at all regret my choice.

There used to be several small prisons inside this structure, one of which was known as the ‘Debtors Prison’. It’s almost hard to imagine a society where people got locked away for being in arrears on their taxes. How many people in 2010 live their lives shrouded in debt? I bet it’s in the millions. Anyway, once in the city centre later on I grabbed a pub lunch and took in some of the more populated surroundings. The meal by the way was grand, featuring both yorkshire puddings and roast beef.

The pub I went in was a little beauty, even featuring small circular barrels for tables, not to mention enough guest ales to put Gav well and truly to shame. Whilst my dinner was going down I wandered outside in the chilly autumn sunshine and explored some of York’s Snickelways, thin alleyways dotted around the shops. A lot of the buildings and streets in York are predominantly old-fashioned and made of stone, or even wood. It’s sure nothing like nearby Leeds where I grew up.

Whilst I was walking down Mad Alice Lane, an alley named so after a woman who hanged herself there after poisoning her husband, I received word from Darren. He must have been watching the latest Live Bunny show on television this morning, because apparently the draw for the next round has been made and we’re away to Grays. As evidenced last week, that will be a difficult game. Am I bothered though? Who knows, maybe a difficult game in that competition is exactly what we need so we can get ourselves out of it and focus on more important things. Darren’s text neglected to mention the date of the game. Presumably however it will be on a midweek night.

I’m writing these notes on my trusty laptop just down the road from Bootham Crescent, York’s ground. We desperately need a big result today to get ourselves back on track. The past two games have been very disappointing. We haven’t played badly necessarily; we just haven’t got the rub of the green. Maybe that will come back to us today? If it doesn’t we could find ourselves knocked off the top of the league come 5pm. Rushden and Diamonds are only one point behind us going into today’s games. They’re a team on form and today they’re away to whipping boys Droylsden, who will surely be easy pickings if the Diamonds are on their game?

Before I power down I would just like to say that Bambi won third prize in an amateur beauty contest yesterday down at a dog kennel enclosure called MyPetStop. I didn’t think that news warranted its own diary piece at the time, but it does at least deserve a mention. Brian and his family came too and although their two lovely dogs didn’t get a placing in any the categories they were entered for, they still had a good time.

Now then, on with the football. I DO NOT want to take the first steps this afternoon to creating a 'Mad Martin Lane', so come on lads! Save me from the noose!

[ScottleeSV]

10/10/09, League Match 15

York City v Luton Town

GK – Dean Brill (65 apps, 0 goals)

DL – Charlie Daniels (14 apps, 2 goals)

DR – Claude Gnakpa (61 apps, 2 goals)

DC – Tony James (14 apps, 0 goals)

DC – George Pilkington (60 apps, 1 goal)

DMC – Kevin Nicholls (40 apps, 11 goals)

MC – Matthew Gill (23 apps, 0 goals)

ML – Derek Niven (7 apps, 0 goals)

MR – Danny Cadamateri (10 apps, 3 goals)

FC – Michael Bridges (8 apps, 1 goal)

FC – Jamie Guy (13 apps, 5 goals)

To light rain and a light breeze, we kicked off with the away fans behind Brill’s goal. Immediately a lofted pass from Gill gave away a throw-in deep in the York half. Parslow and McGurk combined to get it forward for the home side but an interception from Pilkington put us back in possession again. Operating in the centre circle, Niven tried to whip one out to Cadamateri but his ball went straight to the head of Roberton.

Robertson though mis-judged the flight of the ball for his header, sending it spinning up in the air and behind him. Cadamateri nipped in to control it and storm through on goal from a slight angle. What an intriguing development this was! Goalkeeper Ingram spread himself and came out to block Cadamateri but the striker dinked one just to the side of him. The ball landed close to the penalty spot and rolled beautifully into the far corner of the netting. Great start!

Knowing it was far too early to get too excited; I grinned and stood with my arms crossed. From the kick-off York began to pass the ball patiently around the backline rather than simply hump it forward again. This resulted in a cagey passage of play as both teams took time to fully re-evaluated their game plans. The wind and rain though was making it difficult to keep possession. Kevin Nicholls appeared surprisingly passive in the early stages, shirking from several challenges he would normally go in full-blooded for. I guess he was trying to break himself back in slowly after the injury.

The Bootham faithful began to get excited in the 9th minute when their side won two successive corners. The first went straight to Gnakpa at the near post, who blocked it behind for the re-take. The second corner landed on the head of Henderson. His smart header downwards was well held by Brill a yard in front of the line. The save wasn’t difficult but he did well to hold onto it in the dodgy conditions, as McBreen had been sniffing around for any spillages.

With 15 minutes on the clock, a huge ball towards the York corner flag appeared to be going out for a throw-in or a goal kick. The wind held the ball up though and Cadamateri was the first to react, controlling the bouncing ball smartly under pressure from Parslow. From here Cadamateri seemed to take an age to actually do anything. He ran his foot over the ball a few times, turned to face Parslow, shielded it from Parslow, taunted Parslow, and then finally turned to face Parslow again. Then he made a play for the by-line (which was a couple of yards away) and crossed the ball in low.

There was little danger here because Bridges wasn’t on Cadamateri’s wavelength. York player Humphries though inexplicably let the ball bounce off his knee close to the near post. The ball spun into the goal past a helpless Ingram and we were two up. This time everybody celebrated madly, fans, players, and dugout. It had been a nothing game so far but incredibly we were two nil ahead. Cadamateri did a little dance from his position by the corner flag as his colleagues all ran to congratulate him. It wouldn’t go down as his goal but he was certainly responsible for it.

From memory I’ve let a two goal lead slip no fewer than four times in my stint as Luton boss. They’re painful experiences when they happen and last Saturday against Grays was one of the worst. With this in mind I tried to work as hard as I could over the following ten minutes. I waved my arms, shouted my opinions, kicked thin air, and I even lambasted Gill for a poor thirty yard effort when he could have kept possession. Complacency is the worst enemy of a team carrying a two goal advantage. I wanted my invasive bellowing from the sideline to have the effect of keeping said enemy well and truly at bay.

Sadly however York City are no mugs. You don’t get the consistently high league placings they do without being a good side, particularly at home. In the 27th minute, Bentley commendably managed to keep the ball under pressure from no fewer than four Luton players, eventually slipping a pass into the feet of McBreen. The striker had Tony James for company here but completely surprised the defender with quick feet and an early shot from the edge of the area. The ball careered high past Brill and clipped the crossbar, eventually landed in the arms of a relieved Luton fan behind the goal.

After 34 minutes, when York won their fourth corner, I reflected that if we could just get through to half time unscathed it would give us a good firm platform to win the game. Then I remembered the time Accrington scored twice in the final ten minutes against us to draw 2-2. Talk about peeing all over my own positive thought! York player Henderson peed all over it too. When the corner was floated in, Tinnion got a flick-on and Henderson powered a header past Brill from just three yards out. The home side were back in the game.

Now it was a case of getting through to the interval with any kind of lead! The Minstermen powered forwards again almost straight from the restart, Symes and that man Henderson exchanging passes around a lethargic Nicholls in the centre circle. McBreen was calling for the ball here but Bentley had made the more incisive run, and Symes picked him out. In the blink of an eye Bentley took the ball on with his in-step and shaped to shoot from just outside the area and from an angle. The low shot was a good one and on target, and Brill only just managed to get a hand on it. Never the less, all he could was feather it around the post for another corner.

The crowd were baying for an equaliser now but the corner was cleared by a towering George Pilkington. Thankfully we regained something of a foothold after this and woke ourselves back up. In what was becoming a frenetic end to the half, Bridges held onto a long ball and fought off an attempted tackle from behind. The striker then laid the ball on for Guy to run onto, and run he did. The recalled forward used to pace to skip past McGurk and he might have gone clean through but for a last gasp tackle from the covering Robertson.

However, Robertson could only poke the ball back out to Bridges. From here the ex-Hull man curled a low shot from twenty five yards. It was going into the corner but was too far out to beat Ingram, who got down low to it and collected. That was the shot of a fancy Dan, and I let Brian know my thoughts on the subject as Ingram booted the ball back downfield. A short while later the referee blew for half time and we had fifteen minutes to collect our thoughts.

[ScottleeSV]

Straight away in the second half York got themselves another corner. I wouldn’t call them a set piece side but they certainly love getting them. They’ve got a lot of big tall players and that helps a lot with such matters. Anyway, this first corner of the second half glanced off a red-shirt and went several yards wide. Motivated by a stern half time talk from Brian and I, we began to play a lot better once the ball was back in play. Kevin Nicholls in particular looked highly pumped up after his poor first half showing.

In the 51st minute the skipper began strolling around with the ball deep in the York half. Gill and Niven both received short passes only to soon give it straight back to Nicholls again. Next to get it was Bridges, twenty five yards out and faced with many a defender in front of him on the edge of the box. The striker shaped to fire in a long one but changed his mind just before impact, perhaps spotting the lunging Parslow about to throw himself in front of the ball. Instead he tapped it sideways to Nicholls, who rifled in a low left footed shot!

The effort didn’t have much power on it but achieved a deflection which left Ingram in no-man’s land. Having already dived in the opposite direction from where the ball was going, all he could do was lift up his trailing leg and jab at the ball in panic. The contact he got though managed to flip the ball up and over the bar for a corner. Bridges was again involved when the corner came in. The ball in fell down in and around the six yard box and Bridges turned and whacked it straight against a defender’s body. The ball then ricocheted to a position about thirty yards away from goal. Not getting much luck is Bridges.

Now shooting towards the away fans, we seemed to have a twelfth man we didn’t have in the first half. That said the same was also true for York. With the game approaching its hour mark, the home side began a probing little pass and move exchange of their own. Symes was at the heart of it, and he eventually risked sliding a little ball in towards McBreen on the edge of the area. McBreen was being shadowed by James here, who carelessly bundled him over to give away a dangerous free kick. As an estimate I’d say it was somewhere between twenty and twenty two yards from goal.

As Brill formed a wall involving at least six of our guys, McBreen and Bentley stood over the ball and began to step backwards in two different directions. I thought McBreen might be the one to take this given his goal record. The white shirts probably guessed the same thing. They all looked completely static as Bentley surprised everybody by surging his body forwards after the referee’s whistle and curling one in. The ball went around the wall and nestled in the corner of the net past a sprawling Brill. York had equalized, and there was still half an hour left. Unbelievable.

Before the game could kick-off again, I threw Owusu on for Gill. The idea was that we needed more natural width over on the left. Gill was looking more tired than Niven so I moved Niven into his natural position in the centre of midfield and sent Owusu into left midfield. The youngster isn’t a speedy winger like Daniels, but I didn’t like the idea of having two attacking wingers on the pitch away from home against a side like York. Maybe if we went behind I would consider it and not before.

Niven quickly made an impact after the reshuffle. Picking up a loose ball in midfield he threaded one through for Jamie Guy to run onto. Guy hadn’t had a great game up to this point but this was a good chance to shine. Faced with defender McGurk in front of him, Guy dribbled left and right as he forced the defender further back towards his own goal. Then, after giving himself slightly more room on his right, he hit a low shot from just inside the area and at a slight angle to the goal. Ingram was blinded somewhat due to McGurk’s presence between himself and Guy. This resulted in him diving for the ball too late. The shot rolled beautifully into the far corner and we had retaken the lead!

Shellshock seemed to grip York, and they almost went further behind two minutes later. Again it was Guy, forcing Ingram into a save after a knockdown from Bridges. This was turning into a rip-roaring encounter. I was delighted to see how we’d responded since being pegged back to 2-2. With the clock on 67 minutes, I began to warm up Spencer and McCracken on the sidelines. I reckoned I’d be making changes soon; I just wasn’t sure when and in what format. Whilst I thought about it, Cadamateri turned infield onto his left and rolled a relatively harmless left footed shot low into the arms of Ingram.

The home side were already making substitutions, bringing on Montague, Sodje, and Purkiss in one big triple swoop. Evidently their manager was worried as to where the game was now heading. His decisiveness momentarily fooled our entire line-up, wondering as they did how the new additions would affect their marking and positional responsibilities. York seem to be one of those teams who never quite have the same formation throughout the match. It’s bad enough in normal play, but when they bring umpteen subs on it just makes things even worse. In the 75th minute, they won a corner.

In essence it was the perfect time for the home side to get one. We were used to marking the players who’d gone off. Nobody seemed to notice Montague throwing himself towards the ball seven yards out. His connection with the cross was powerful and accurate. His header zoomed past Brill into the centre of the goals to send the crowd into raptures. In this incredible match, York had equalized for a second time. As the rain continued to fall, a drum began to rediscover its rhythm somewhere inside the home end. How depressing.

On trotted Spencer and McCracken, replacing Bridges and James. As we’d done in the aftermath of the first equalizer, we responded by going on the attack. With 78 minutes played, Charlie Daniels popped up from left back, overlapping with Owusu down the left. The cross was of Daniels’ typically high standard, an in-swinger which curled tantalizingly in front of retreating defenders and hungry attackers. Alas nobody got on a touch on it except for Kelly, whose faint touch carried the ball across the by-line on the far side. Judging by his reaction, he looked relieved not to have scored an own goal.

Nicholls’ corner caused mayhem, and not for the first time in the match pinged around the six yard box. Parslow tried to clear but only managed to whack it against Henderson. The ball deflected back towards goal and had to be headed by Robertson on the goal-line. Even so, he could only head it against the post, banging his own head in the follow through. The ball fell to Owusu out on the left. It was a half chance to score but he fired it high and wide. The Luton players all put hands on heads and began to trudge away. I think in that moment the will to force a winner seemed to leave us.

Late in the game it was all York, searching manically for the dramatic winner to cap a great comeback. First they almost got it when Symes dug one out from under his feet to force Brill to collect at shoulder height. Then a free kick was whipped in by Bentley onto the head of Sodje, who powered one a yard too wide and a yard too high. The designated glory moment however was to fall to Symes, a chance handed to him one minute into stoppage time...

Purkiss floated one into the area and McBreen got to the ball before Pilkington and McCracken, chesting it down and instantly finding himself being harried by Brill. McBreen took the ball around Brill but too close to the by-line. Instead of shoot then he pulled it back to the onrushing Symes. There were two men on the line here but one of them wasn’t Brill. Talk about an easy chance to score! Symes though was unlucky enough to have to take the shot on his least favoured foot. He still should have scored but didn’t, hooking it up and over the sticks. And thank God for that.

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FINAL SCORE (Att - 2606)

York City 3 (Henderson 34, Bentley 59, Montague 75)

Luton Town 3 (Cadamateri 2, Humphrey o.g 15, Guy 62)

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(other results)

AFC Wimbledon 1-4 Oxford

Cambridge 2-0 Ebbsfleet

Droylsden 0-1 Rushden

Forest Green 2-1 Histon

Grays 2-0 Kidderminster

Kettering 0-0 Burton

Macclesfield 2-1 Northwich

Salisbury 3-3 Mansfield

St Albans 2-2 Crawley

Tamworth 2-3 Stevenage

Weymouth 0-1 Woking

(top of table with everyone having played 15 games each)

1 - Rushden (35)

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2 - Luton Town (34)

3 - Grays Athletic (28)

4 - York City (28)

5 - Burton Albion (27)

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6 - Stevenage (27)

7 - Oxford United (26)

8 - AFC Wimbledon (26)

[ScottleeSV]

29/10/06 - Half the world away

We’d been trekking for two hours now and my body felt all but dead. I’m not one for thermometers and measurements, but this heat was almost insufferable. My backpack felt more weighty than normal, the ground was definitely sloping upwards, and the undergrowth made forward progress very problematic. Add all that to the fact I was retired semi-pro with only one leg that worked properly, and you had a distinctly unhappy James Martin right now. What should have been a holiday of a lifetime was fast becoming a tiresome chore.

Tell that to Charlotte, ten yards ahead of me as she usually was whenever we were negotiating difficult terrain. Swinging a giant army knife left and right, hacking away at anything in her path, she was well and truly in her element here. Inconveniences like backpacks and scorching heat didn’t put her off achieving her objectives. Oh no. To Charlotte this was party time, the stuff worth living for. Heaven only knows where she was leading us but she was having a great time doing it. It was like watching a real life Lara Croft swipe her way through the back of beyond; she even had the combat shorts and hiking boots down pat.

The destination for this our THIRD holiday of a very exhausting year was Cuba. We’d actually started off in Mexico, the intention being to do some diving in the underground rivers of the Yucatan. Yes, you read that right – underground rivers. Charlotte had been reading about them online during those times of the week normal folk are out doing day jobs. You see one side of Mexico has a vast network of underground water systems accessible via small sinkholes, or ‘cenotes’ as they’re known. Charlotte had wanted to explore some of these entry points for quite some time.

The Mexicans though had other ideas. From the moment we arrived in the small town of Chichen Itza, we had problems. Apparently you need a special open water diving qualification to go cavern diving. Charlotte though isn’t one for passes and permits. Her plan to get around not having the qualification was simple; head straight for the cenotes without telling anybody. In some countries I’m sure you could get away with this. Mexico though is very rigid in its policing. They collared me and Charlotte before we’d even left our base in the town square. Then, having already warned us once, they collared us again halfway between Playa del Carmen and Tulum.

We were meant to fly to the Bahamas for the second half of the holiday (my reward for toeing the line whilst Charlotte got her danger fix in Mexico). When that first leg was cut short with the pair of us being less than politely escorted to the airport in a police vehicle, we rearranged our initinery to accommodate Cuba. This way Charlotte wouldn’t feel short-changed when we finally settled down to catch some rays. There’s a place in Cuba called The Pico Turquino National Park, and my bride-to-be rather fancied the dangerous hike across sixty six square miles of remote wilderness to get to the centre of it. A gate with a forboding rope across it initially blocked our way, but Charlotte solved this problem with two swipes from the Crocodile Dundee knife.

Just getting to the edge of the park had been adventure enough for me. After flying in to Santiago De Cuba, we had to take a three hour bus ride to a place called Buey Arriba. The bus was a rickety little thing with half the windows missing. Flies buzzed around us constantly on the journey, and the driver inexplicably sang what sounded like the Spanish version of ‘How much is that doggy in the window?’ about a hundred times. He even shouted “Woof Woof!” between each line.

It was only after we got there Charlotte casually informed me visitors aren’t allowed into the park without a guide. She wasn’t to be denied her wants twice on the same vacation though. Our escape from the assembling tour pack at rendezvous point Bartoleme Maso was methodically clinical, something I imagined she’d been plotting ever since we left the airport. Despite once being the refuge of a certain Fidel Castro, Pico Turquino is not top-heavy with officials carrying truncheons. Our disappearance was surprisingly easy.

And so it came to pass, two days later, my feelings of despondency and tiredness. I collapsed now besides an abandoned log with all the energy of a dead duck. You couldn’t see the ground for the various low-level fauna. It wouldn't have been a good place for a picnic - I'll tell you that much.

“I’m stopping!” I shouted through the thick maze of trees and bushes.

Twenty seconds later Charlotte appeared to me, doubling back from wherever she’d vanished to up ahead. She looked at me thoughtfully for a couple of moments and then came to sit down. Before speaking she took off her backpack and brought out a flask I knew to have diluted orange juice inside it.

“Drink?” she offered.

“Yes, that and a good long rest”.

“Come on, you can make it for another half an hour. I know you can. Besides, you don’t want to stop here amongst all this thickness. You never know what might hit you, right?”

She was referring to an incident the previous day when I’d accidentally run into a little school of lizards. I’d almost bricked my pants at the time. Thankfully though the little critters had let me scurry off without leaping on me. Charlotte had expressed mild concern on hearing what had happened, professing she’d seen one or two such creatures herself over the course of the journey. This was Cuba though, and according to her, lizards were part and parcel of the package tour.

“I’m well aware of what I might not see coming” I replied. “I can’t keep going though. I’m just all done in. I can’t take much more. I’m going to collapse if we carry on”.

“Okay, time for that brochure page. Come on, get it out”.

“No, that’s not going to help this time”.

“Yes is it. Oh fine, I’ll get it out myself”.

Probably knowing I was too weak to stop her, Charlotte unzipped one of the side pockets on my backpack and pulled out the one thing she thought would get me back on my feet. It was the torn out page from a holiday brochure I’d been studying back home. It showed a huge picture of a place called The Exuma Cays in the Bahamas, in other words the place we were going next week. There was nothing but white sand and clear water in that photograph. It looked like paradise on earth.

“Okay, I’ve seen it. You can put it away now”.

“Cool. Are you ready to get going then?

“No, I seriously need a rest”.

“I’ll tell you what; seeing as I love you so much, I’ll compromise. We’ll rest for just fifteen minutes and then go on”.

“Fine” I said wearily.

“James” she then said. “I’ve changed my mind. Slowly stand up. Do it now”.

“What? I thought you just said....”

I paused mid-sentence. A glance at Charlotte’s face told me she was not looking at me but at a spot somewhere over my shoulder. Something was wrong

“What the hell is it?”

“Don’t argue with me. Just stand up slowly and then slowly put your bag on your back. Then walk slowly in the direction we were heading before we stopped”.

“Is it a lizard” I asked, rising gently to my feet.

“No not this time” Charlotte replied with a smile, but it was the kind people usually reserve for when they want to make light of a dire situation.

Resisting the temptation to keep niggling at her to tell me what it was, I gradually rose to my feet and picked my bag up. Those were the worst moments right there – feeling worried something was going to jump at me as I stood up. Once I had that backpack on though I felt a bit safer, knowing I at least had some protection between me and whatever was in my wake. As I slowly began to walk away from the danger, Charlotte joined me by my side. In her case she was walking backwards with her knife raised.

“Okay, what was it?” I asked when we were thirty yards further on.

“Snake. Biggish one. Big enough to cause concern anyway. I’ve no idea if it was dangerous or not but best not to take chances”.

Glancing back for myself to check we weren’t being followed, I took my bag off and dropped it on the ground again. My forehead had already been glistening with sweat even before I’d sat down. It was positively teeming now.

“I thought you said there no snakes or spiders in this park?”

“I said there most likely wouldn’t be, but nothing’s guaranteed in places like this. I definitely remember reading there were over thirty different types of reptile in Pico Turquino. That bears out from what we’ve seen. I didn’t read anything about any snakes though, or anything else dangerous. However, that doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be anything dangerous. This is more or less a jungle, and as a general rule, jungles are dangerous. Dangerous and occasionally unpredictable".

“Jesus H” I exclaimed, picking my bag up again. “The sooner we get finished with this the better”.

“Oh you love it really” she replied, punching my shoulder gently.

“No I don’t. You’ll get me killed out here one of these days”.

“Never” she stated, thundering on in front.

I watched her bum for a moment, hoping it would cheer me up. Then I sighed and started walking again. It’s amazing what the thought of a snake up your arse can do for your energy levels. I suddenly felt capable of walking at least another ten clicks.