Making Gordon Brown Proud

[irishregan]

bbc.co.uk 1997

New hope for young unemployed

The Government's new deal to help jobless 18- to 24-year-olds find work gets under way on Monday in 12 trial areas across Britain.

The Chancellor, Gordon Brown, is also understood to be considering an extra investment of up to £250m in schemes to help older and long-term unemployed people.

Ministers are also expected to announce further plans to extend elements of the new deal to those aged 25 to 35.

Writing in Scotland's Daily Record newspaper, Mr Brown says the launch of the new deal for the young marks "a new beginning in the war against poverty" but was "just the start".

Under the scheme, 18- to 24-year-olds out of work for at least six months will be offered four options.

The Government has made it clear that there will be no fifth option of doing nothing. Refusing to join the scheme will lead to loss of benefit. The options are:

A job with an employer. Private sector employers will get a £60-a-week subsidy for up to 26 weeks. The new deal also contributes £750 towards training young people for accredited qualifications.

Six months' work with the Government's environment task force.

Six months' work in the voluntary sector.

Or full-time education or training.

What does all this have to do with football management you may ask? And the answer of course is nothing, unless you happen to be me.

At the time when all this was announced, I was living the life I had been living ever since I started University. That is to say, a completely false one. It involved heavy drinking, necking drugs on a regular basis, and doing nothing which could be even remotely described as work. Each day I would crawl out of bed in the early afternoon, just in time for the One o'clock News. Or failing that, I would religiously rise for the daily episode of "Quincy", which at the time I regarded as a work of accidental genius. Added to this idyllic existence, I had always been lucky enough with the ladies, for whatever reason. Once they discovered my complete lack of prospects, they moved on in frustration. Yet at that stage of my life, I was quite happy with that.

Deep down I wanted to work and progress, but only on my own terms. When I heard about New Labour's "New Deal", I had to admit I was interested. Only on my terms of course, however I was still interested.

A couple of years later, as the scheme rolled slowly out into my depressed area of Northern Ireland (the government always tackles Northern Ireland last), I was duly summoned to a "gateway" interview at the job centre, or whatever stylish name they called it by then. The lady who interviewed me that day was a warted, grossly ugly, male looking, middle aged farm lady. She started by announcing very grandly that she could get me a job that very day, working in a notorious meat products factory in the town. I said she had to be joking. The thought of working there was bad enough, the idea that I would be slave labour in a place where I could have got a paying job any day of the week, was downright offensive.

A few weeks later I was summoned to another interview, with a very nice fellow who revelled in the title of "Enterprise Development Officer". I originally thought that meant that the job centre had given up on me, and in a way, they had. I later discovered that anyone who could string a sentence together was sent off to this guy, while the job centre dealt with the morons, presumably sending them as quickly as possible to the meat packing plant.

This guy looked at my CV and asked me what the hell I was doing wasting my life on the dole? That was the kind of man to man approach that always worked with me. For good measure, he added that I could do "whatever I wanted to do". When he asked me what it was I wanted to do, I decided to start at the top, then work my way down.

"I always wanted to be a football manager," I said shamelessly.

That stopped the conversation for a minute. He was thinking. Perhaps he was thinking, "oh good Lord, not another one". He asked me if I was sure about that, and I said I was. He had another think.

"I know I can get you into a programme to become a qualified sports coach. The IFA are included in the sports coach programme. So, if you're really serious, you can get the coaching certificates. How the hell you end up being a football manager from there is in the lap of the Gods mate."

I was serious, and slowly but surely, my life started a meandering path to where it is now.

[irishregan]

bbc.co.uk 1997

New hope for young unemployed

The Government's new deal to help jobless 18- to 24-year-olds find work gets under way on Monday in 12 trial areas across Britain.

The Chancellor, Gordon Brown, is also understood to be considering an extra investment of up to £250m in schemes to help older and long-term unemployed people.

Ministers are also expected to announce further plans to extend elements of the new deal to those aged 25 to 35.

Writing in Scotland's Daily Record newspaper, Mr Brown says the launch of the new deal for the young marks "a new beginning in the war against poverty" but was "just the start".

Under the scheme, 18- to 24-year-olds out of work for at least six months will be offered four options.

The Government has made it clear that there will be no fifth option of doing nothing. Refusing to join the scheme will lead to loss of benefit. The options are:

A job with an employer. Private sector employers will get a £60-a-week subsidy for up to 26 weeks. The new deal also contributes £750 towards training young people for accredited qualifications.

Six months' work with the Government's environment task force.

Six months' work in the voluntary sector.

Or full-time education or training.

What does all this have to do with football management you may ask? And the answer of course is nothing, unless you happen to be me.

At the time when all this was announced, I was living the life I had been living ever since I started University. That is to say, a completely false one. It involved heavy drinking, necking drugs on a regular basis, and doing nothing which could be even remotely described as work. Each day I would crawl out of bed in the early afternoon, just in time for the One o'clock News. Or failing that, I would religiously rise for the daily episode of "Quincy", which at the time I regarded as a work of accidental genius. Added to this idyllic existence, I had always been lucky enough with the ladies, for whatever reason. Once they discovered my complete lack of prospects, they moved on in frustration. Yet at that stage of my life, I was quite happy with that.

Deep down I wanted to work and progress, but only on my own terms. When I heard about New Labour's "New Deal", I had to admit I was interested. Only on my terms of course, however I was still interested.

A couple of years later, as the scheme rolled slowly out into my depressed area of Northern Ireland (the government always tackles Northern Ireland last), I was duly summoned to a "gateway" interview at the job centre, or whatever stylish name they called it by then. The lady who interviewed me that day was a warted, grossly ugly, male looking, middle aged farm lady. She started by announcing very grandly that she could get me a job that very day, working in a notorious meat products factory in the town. I said she had to be joking. The thought of working there was bad enough, the idea that I would be slave labour in a place where I could have got a paying job any day of the week, was downright offensive.

A few weeks later I was summoned to another interview, with a very nice fellow who revelled in the title of "Enterprise Development Officer". I originally thought that meant that the job centre had given up on me, and in a way, they had. I later discovered that anyone who could string a sentence together was sent off to this guy, while the job centre dealt with the morons, presumably sending them as quickly as possible to the meat packing plant.

This guy looked at my CV and asked me what the hell I was doing wasting my life on the dole? That was the kind of man to man approach that always worked with me. For good measure, he added that I could do "whatever I wanted to do". When he asked me what it was I wanted to do, I decided to start at the top, then work my way down.

"I always wanted to be a football manager," I said shamelessly.

That stopped the conversation for a minute. He was thinking. Perhaps he was thinking, "oh good Lord, not another one". He asked me if I was sure about that, and I said I was. He had another think.

"I know I can get you into a programme to become a qualified sports coach. The IFA are included in the sports coach programme. So, if you're really serious, you can get the coaching certificates. How the hell you end up being a football manager from there is in the lap of the Gods mate."

I was serious, and slowly but surely, my life started a meandering path to where it is now.

[irishregan]

A few months later, I was attending an IFA coaching course. I rubbed a few of the instructors up the wrong way, being firmly convinced that I knew more about the game than they did. It settled down soon enough though. Progress seemed tortuously slow. The IFA spun me out for the entire six monts so they could pick up the full subsidy. Not surprisingly. At the end of the day, I got what I came for, sailing through the exams. There I was, a fully qualified coach, without a coaching job or the faintest idea how to get one.

Being my arrogant self, I thought I could start at the top again. It took months of rejection, until I resigned myself to the bleeding obvious. I would have to volunteer, much as the concept repulsed me. Starting out at my hometown club, Carrick Rangers, I made a few waves. Not in the best way unfortunately. I was a young man in a hurry, surrounded by old farts who talked dogs**t about how the game was "all about running", whose programme only included ballwork in roughly one out of four training sessions. No wonder Carrick Rangers were struggling, and the Irish League was a woeful product. Dark aged troglodytes were everywhere in the local game. I knew I had to somehow mug into the professional coaching ranks. I couldn't do that without experience, so I had to suck it up and play the fool to a bunch of...well...fools.

My first "big" break came when I landed the job of football coach at the University of Ulster Jordanstown. They had hired another bloke originally, who had claimed to be a fully qualified coach, but actually turned out to be a milkman. With the season just around the corner, and my good self the only applicant, I was in. We had a strong season in the university competitions, and despite the fact that it was an unpaid, part time job, it looked great on my CV.

By happy coincidence, a couple of years had now passed, and I was once again elligible for my second tour of duty on the "New Deal". This time I really cracked it, landing a six month placement as youth team coach at Dundee, for two outstanding reasons. They were skint, and my mate George lived in Dundee. It was a magical time, despite the fact that I was still on the dole, and kipping on my mate's sofa. I was officially a full-time football coach. After the six months were up, I had obviously done a decent job. They kept me on, but to make it work financially, they had to combine my duties with other work around the club, and fib to the dole that I was only working twenty hours a week, so I could still pick up my giro.

In the next two years, we did a lot of good work at the youth level. The teams were successful, youth products were conveyed to the Dundee first team, and I was starting to get noticed. I got mentioned as a possible candidate for two management jobs, first at Elgin, then Brechin City. I was a little disappointed, but as then chairman Peter Marr told me, it was "only a matter of time before an offer came in". Marr didn't last much longer at the club after that. There was a huge ownership squabble after they racked a 20 million quid debt, and they ended up going personally bankrupt. A new duo of Bob Brannan and Dave MacKinnon took over, and a few weeks later I was summoned, I assumed to be given my pink slip, especially in view of the fact that they would have known that I was fiddling the Social Security system, something that the rather dodgy Marr brothers had turned a blind eye to.

I wandered into Bob's office, and discovered another bloke there, by the name of Andrew Jenkins, who it turned out was the relatively new chairman of Carlisle United. My heart started beating. I knew they didn't have a manager, yet hadn't considered applying. If I couldn't get Brechin or Elgin, Carlisle was well out of my league. The three of us started chatting about football in general, and I was a smart enough guy to realise that this was an interview. Once I got talking, my nerves melted away, and I really talked as though I was full of my own ideas, not knowing whether that was the sort of thing that would impress him. I reckoned it was my best chance. He talked about how he wanted fresh ideas, new thinking, clear out the dinosaurs etc etc. "Hello," I was thinking "I could be well in here". I made sure and told them the stories about my way up, and my battles with the dinosaurs of lower level football. Bob jumped in with a few "this lad will go far" comments, which I hoped would really put the seal on things. Jenkins talked about the position a little bit, and we left it at that.

"Thanks for giving me a prop or two there Bob," I said to the chairman after Jenkins had taken his leave.

"Aye I meant every word of it son. I didn't just say it because we're getting 20,000 quid compensation if he hires you. Although we don't half need the money."

[irishregan]

I spent a fitful few days waiting for an answer, then the news broke. I was to be announced the next morning as the new manager of Carlisle United. Bob had a 20,000 pound smile on his face when he summoned me to his office, and the arrangements were made for me to travel down to Carlisle. I could hardly sleep that night, partly with nerves, and partly because of the dreadful bed in the crummy travel tavern that they put me up in. It couldn't have been worse if Giant Haystacks and Big Daddy had just had sex in it. A huge dip in the middle made sure that I got up in installments the next morning, and I was in danger of appearing at the press conference looking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

On arrival at the club, Andrew got me to sign the contract, which in my haste to accept the offer I hadn't even read. Two years at 1400 quid a week was riches beyond compare for a dole lifer like me, and I couldn't wait to sign.

The press conference began, and I got the first inkling that all may not quite have been as it seemed. There were a vast retinue of journalists, way too many to have just been local. Why would nationals be interested in the appointment at Carlisle United? It would soon become clear. After a few regulation questions, some bloke asked the chairman about how it felt to have the first ever "New Deal" football manager. I noticed Andrew looking uncomfortable, and was surprised that he brushed the question off. The follow up made everything brutally plain.

"So is the fact that you've appointed the first ever New Deal football manager anything to do with you being a New Labour donor, and your strong support...and indeed personal friendship with...Gordon Brown?"

Jenkins just sat there with a glassy smile, muttered something about the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard, and then blundered on. Then another hack re-packaged the question for me. I hoped I deflected it successfully. I just said something about a lot of nonsense, but I was shaken inside. Was there something shady to this appointment? Was I being used as a pawn? When I thought about it a little more, I didn't care. I had got where I wanted to be. It pretty quickly fell to the back of my mind. Excitement at the challenge ahead overwhelmed every other feeling.

[irishregan]

Dennis Booth was a gruff Derbyshire man, who reminded me somewhat of the equally gruff former Darts champion John Lowe, being as they were from the same area of England. He had this face that looked as though he didn't like you, but after 10 minutes or so of talking, I realised that he was just old school, and was actually a decent bloke.I liked those sort of guys. Unremarkable in appearence, invaluable in the trenches. He was our part-time assistant manager, having left the club with Paul Simpson to go to Preston, then been fired along with him a season earlier. Dennis hadn't wanted to come back on a full-time basis, and that's how it was. A part time assistant was far from ideal, but I liked him, so I had to put up with it.

Dennis thought we had a decent squad, without being anything special. Good enough to secure the respectable league position the board expected. I told him we had 200 grand to spend, and 5 grand a week in the wage budget, asking him whether he thought I needed to splash any of it out.

"Keep your powder dry lad," he said sagely. "Don't make the mistake of bringing in someone who isn't better than what we've got. That's death to a lower league manager."

With his wise words buttressing what I already thought myself, I headed off to meet the office staff.

I once heard the magnificent Stuart Hall describe Stoke's Brittania stadium as being out of place "all shining new, looming out of an industrial wasteland...like finding a Portaloo on Mars!". In the grubby little offices below the tired old stands of Brunton Park, I was introduced to surely the most wonderfully out of place thing in Carlisle, my secretary, Tania Carter. A breathtaking natural blonde, with legs as long as the M6, dressed in the class of Gucci, but with eyes that suggested desire within that cool exterior, she was the last thing you expected to see in a tired northern town. I tried a weak "what's a girl like you doing in a place like this" routine when we were introduced, and she launched into her story.

Her Father was a shareholder in the club, and got her this job while she decided what to do with her life. She had dabbled in catwalk modelling, and had actually traipsed a few runways in Paris and Milan, then decided it wasn't for her. I said she was far too good looking to be a fashion model, she was more like an actress. At that point, she decided to mention her boyfriend. Drat! She had parried me straight away with the old "mention the boyfriend" routine. Being a shallow git, I ended the conversation there, and told her I had to go and meet the players and watch Dennis take training.

Authors note: FM08 with English Italian and Spanish Leagues going. I haven't done a story for a good while now. I'm going to see how long I can keep this going, but winning an award last time around seemed to drain me of all motivation to play and write about the game. Hopefully this one will enthuse me again.

[Terk]

Good to see you back with a new story, Irish Making Gordon Borwn Dead would be better though

[Peacemaker7]

Poor Gordon Borwn whats he ever done to you Terk.

Actually thought this might be a Raith Rovers story, but as Simone says, nice to see you back Mr Regan!

[macca69]

Great story mate KUTGW!!

[irishregan]

Thanks a bunch lads.

Your comment about Gordon Brown made me laugh Terk. I've been out of the UK for 4 years, and I still detest New Labour as much as I ever did, even though they finally got rid of Phony Tony

[sherm]

Nice to see your return to writing Irish. Maybe award number 2 on the horizon

[markyt]

Perhaps in addition to making him proud you can make him smile in a way that makes me not want to smash the telly in....

Good luck with the story! Liked your last couple and will follow this one.

[irishregan]

Thanks lads, good to see so many people making an early play for the new "Encouragement of the Year award"

I was expecting much worse when I made it to the training ground. Dennis had been instructed to get a full practice match going, and rather than go and meet the players first up, I tried to play it mysterious by lurking around the outskirts of the pitch. Every so often, I would get Dennis to stop the match and call him over, speaking to him as though I was imparting some great jewel of tactical wisdom. In fact, I was just asking him the name of one of the players who had caught my eye, but it was always a lot of fun to play Svengali.

Anyway, in the final analysis, the lads were all right. There weren't any real rubbish players, and some pretty good ones. As always though, I identified straight away that a few of them were for the chop. The other problem was that there weren't anywhere near enough of them. The squad lacked depth, and despite what Dennis had said, and despite the fact that I had agreed with him, we needed a few warm bodies. After my initial look at the riches at our disposal, I went for a meet and greet with the players. They seemed like a good bunch of lads, with good morale.

With that over, I called Dennis back to the office for a more detailed look at what we had, and specifically, what we didn't have and who we could do without. Dennis managed to pilfer a bottle of booze from the boardroom, which made the meeting go more pleasantly. However, at the end of it, we couldn't quite agree on a way forward. At my instigation, we decided to concentrate on bringing fresh faces in, then assessing who would be shown the door.

As I was showing my assistant out, the club captain, fellow Irishman Peter Murphy, was waiting in the office area.

"Are you here to see me mate?" I asked.

"Er...no boss," he began, then cast a look over to Tania, who was elegantly putting her coat on. "Here to pick up the girlfriend."

"Oh! So you're the lucky sod then! I joked.

Everyone laughed, including Murphy, though I got the impression he wasn't genuinely amused, in a sort of an insecure, stay away from my bird type way. In any case, I had more important stuff to think over. Once a broad was taken, I generally lost interest, so I didn't see what he had to worry about. Still, there's no accounting for some people.

Over the next few days, Dennis was up and down the motorway like a madman, looking at this and that player, and talking to his wide range of contacts in the game. He wasn't best pleased, considering he was only supposed to be part-time. I managed to persuade the chairman to bung him a few centuries of extra cash in consideration. Whilst he was doing that, I was setting up my specific training routines for each department of the team, and trying to school them in my passing style. There were grumbles about how we needed to be more direct at our level, which I dismissed as showing a lack of ambition and faith in their own abilities. Besides which, I added, I was the manager and they'd do what I bloody well told them or else be transferred out. Carrot and stick approach if you like.

On the 9th, I secured the services of former Carlisle hero Matt Jansen, who had been languishing on a free transfer after a career blighted by injury. It was at 1500 a week for 2 years, a bit of a comedown for him. However, beggars can't be choosers, and he was happy to be on familiar ground. Two days later we added Jody Morris, another unfulfilled player on an inexorable slide down the leagues, for a 2 grand a week 2 year pact. Then a day later, Scottish winger Robbie Foy rolled in, for the very reasonable terms of 250 quid a week till 2009. On the same day, veteran former Wales stopper Robert Page signed from Coventry for free, at 1400 a week for 2 years.

I was going a little mad now. The next day Finnish international hitman Juho Makela joined from Hearts for 10 grand (650 a week 2 years), closely followed by Trinidadian clogger Dennis Lawrence on a freebie from Swansea (same deal as Page).

All of my new toys were involved for the first friendly two days later, a 1-0 loss at home to Leicester, not a bad performance considering they had what I believed to be way better players than us. Prior to our next warm-up, I pedalled Welsh midfielder Kevin Gall to Cheltenham for 30k, removing 700 a week from the wage bill. Then I oversaw a rather limp 2-1 win over one of our affiliate clubs, Barrow, with two goals from young striking starlet Joe Garner, who Dennis was very high on. Four days later came a shocking 4-3 loss to one of our other affiliates, Workington, which really wasn't good enough. Another four days after that was a 5-2 hammering at home to Wolves, a match which convinced me of the need for a new goalie. Kieren Westwood was viewed with something approaching awe by everyone at the club. I just didn't see it though, and I thought my view was justified after a highly disturbing performance in this game, notable for its complete eccentricity as well as its incompetence. The pre-season ended with a rubbishy 2-1 win at Kendal, and I wasn't exactly overflowing with confidence as the season loomed into view.

[irishregan]

The 11 days before the season opener were spent trying to fine tune the side, together with building some team spirit, a hard thing to do until you actually had some competitive wins under your belt. We did what we could, then finally the 11th of August arrived, and we pitched up at the City Ground to play the team I have supported for as long as I can remember, Nottingham Forest.

Sure I was honoured to even take my team to the City Ground, yet I would be prepared to sell my Grandmother for three points that day. I named the following team: Westwood Raven Murphy Lawrence Page McDermott Bridge-Wilkinson Morris Garner Jansen Smith. Early on, Garner crossed for Jansen to tuck away my first competitive goal as a football manager. I immediately fell back into a counter attacking, defensive style, fully expecting the joy not to last. However, Forest were tepid in all departments, and we held on for a 1-0 win when a draw would have been probably a fair result. Whilst delighted, one swallow doesn't make a Summer, and on the way back I was still thinking how we could improve. There was certainly a sigh of relief from everyone at the club though, having tested ourselves against the biggest fish in the division (apart from Leeds), and come away with 3 priceless points. Unfortunately, Paul Thirlwell the defensive midfielder, who had come on as a sub, would miss 1-2 months with a broken collarbone. Just to prove that every silver lining has a cloud.

On the 15th, we visited Chesterfield in the League Cup, which I regarded as something of a distraction. Obviously the players did too. We were complacent, not finishing a myriad of chances, then defending dreadfully to go down 1-0. I was angry, but so too were the board, who made it quite clear that they were expecting a cup run. Too bad. I shook off the disappointment and turned my attention to our home opener that weekend, against Leeds.

Morris was injured, and replaced at centre midfield by Chris Lumsdon. Our illustrious visitors took the lead via a headed corner after 7 minutes. We fought hard, and in the 29th, Garner burst through to slam an incredible 25 yard top corner job into the net. We coughed up another just after the break, then with 20 minutes left, another sensational 25 yarder, this time from Lumsdon, gave us a deserved point against a decent side. The attendance was disappointing, only 8157, yet the point was very satisfactory indeed. Less so was the news that Ganrner would miss a week or two with a heel problem.

During the week's break, I flogged a couple of anonymous reserves to non league, for a combined 6k, and more importantly 800 a week off our bill. Then came a tricky trip to Orient. It was vital we keep up the momentum against a lesser light, and after 5 minutes, Makela shot in a long Lumsdon cross to put us ahead. Mcdermott added another on 17, yet by the 52nd minute, we had coughed up our lead through risible defending.

Bridge Wilkinson drove in straight after to restore our lead. This time I put up the barricades and we held on, yet it was a very frustrating performance. The win was about all it had going for it. Still, 7 points from 3 games was a hell of a good return.

Before the end of the month I strengthened the panel with the acquisition of Ipswich's Spanish right back Sito for free. He took a 50% pay cut to 1500 a week, which was nice of him.

I quite deservedly got Manager of the Month, and stepped into the monthly board meeting feeling pretty full of my own importance. Imagine my surprise when the board, mainly via the chairman, started whining about how I could do better, and griping about the 89 grand loss. I was truculent, informing them that if Manager of the Month wasn't enough, then they were up for some more disappointments. I don't think it went down too well, but I've never been one to bow to anybody. I thought it wise to establish from the start that I wasn't going to be anybody's monkey.

[fatious]

Great to see you back!

[Cougar2010]

Enjoying the story

Moreso as its about my hometown club.

[Spav]

Great start, irishregan. Good to see you back and writing.

[tenthreeleader]

Absolutely wonderful style. But then since I'm about the tenth visitor to your thread to say it, I expect you already know that.

Well done. I'll be visiting regularly.

[macca69]

KUTGW!

[irishregan]

Very satisfying compliments, thanks to all. Good to see some familiar faces, as well as new followers to the story. Glad to see Spav back around the place. High praise from tenthreeleader too. I have looked at your stuff on the board, and am impressed. Keep up your good work.

Again, thanks to all of you lads! Here's an update.

We were straight back into it on the 1st of September at home to Crewe. Sito was straight in too, making his debut at right back. Five minutes in, Makela was slipped through by McDermott, and gave us the lead with a fine finish. Eighteen minutes later, the same player smashed in a superb 20 yard top corner finish to double our advantage. Just after the break, McDermott got a reward, tapping in after a goalmouth scramble. Sito gifted them a goal 5 minutes later, to cap a pretty dreadful debut, yet the three points came our way, and I was delighted with the performance, as were the 9153 in attendance. Unfortunately, Bridge Wilkinson had taken a bang in the head. A hospital examination revealed concussion, that would see him out for about 2 months.

Midweek brought a home appointment with Tranmere, in the irrelevant paint trophy. I changed my mind and played the regulars, which was just as well, since the visitors were all over us. We stole the game through Jansen in the 87th minute, not that I was bothered one way or the other. In training two days later, Jansen tore his hamstring to add to our injury woes, and he would be on the shelf for 2-3 months.

That was part of the shuffling for the away trip to Doncaster, which saw Makela on international duty, as well as the Jansen injury. Garner and Graham subbed in. We ended up being utterly trounced 4-1. Why I'm not sure, since their lot weren't exactly Brazil of 1970. I decided not to throw a wobbler and accept one bad day at the office.

The following Saturday saw us back at home, this time against Swindon. Bridge Wilkinson had made a miracle recovery from his concussion, and after making sure with the docors that he wouldn't drop dead if he headed the ball, he was in on the right. Foy moved to the left, and Makela returned from Finland duty to lead the line. The latter bagged a 2nd minute penalty to give us the lead, and that was it until the 88th minute when he sealed the points, heading in a cross in the most emphatic fashion. We deserved it, and Makela really ran the show, receiving a hero's ovation from the near 8000 crowd.

In the week before the next game, I flogged left winger Simon Hackney to Walsall for 85k, a transaction that would occur in the next window. He was a useful player, but I felt we were strong on the left, and was money hungry to boot. In the meantime, we still had the use of the guy.

I was expecting a fighting performance at Luton on the 22nd, given our surrender in the last away game. Instead, they were all over us like a rash again. After two disallowed goals, The Hatters sealed it with a deflected strike on 68 minutes. I was livid, not with the loss, but with the limp performance. To be outclassed is fine. I would never accept being outfought.

Again I made a sale between games. Surplus to requirements forward Danny Carlton was shipped off to Hereford for 28k plus 50% of futures, which I thought was a decent deal.

On the 29th, we entertained Northampton, who scored 14 minutes in, courtesy of some woeful defending from Dennis Lawrence. Garner spared his blushes 10 minutes later, lashing in a brilliant 25 yarder, then heading in beautifully 7 minutes after that. Another handy win was clinched just before half time, via an expertly slotted Murphy penalty.

We had managed to finish both months of the competitive season on a high, and again the awards flooded in. Makela got Player of the Month, and Garner Young Player of the Month. In addition, we turned a small profit of 23k, leaving everybody at the club satisfied with life, including the board.

[mark wilson27]

Enjoying the story Irish, good quality writing as is always expected from you.......

Looking forward to further updates

[macca69]

Bit of a slump atm, but im counting on you to keep Crewe up their!!

[macca69]

Meant Carlisle**

[irishregan]

I'm afraid I binned this story this evening. I had played 2 and a bit seasons, and despite assembling a squad that was way too good for the division, it never let me get promoted, and by the end of it I was getting hammered every week by s***e teams. I didn't see any point in wasting more time on it.

This is my first experience with FM08, and whilst it entertained me, overall it didn't leave a favourable impression. I'm not one of those guys who wants to win the Champions League five years after taking over at Carlisle, but I would like some reward for doing a decent job.

I'd be interested to know what other people's impression has been. I've heard a few people say it's a stinker. I was using the latest patch too.

Apologies again for not sticking this one out, but it was going absolutely nowhere.

[tenthreeleader]

Irish, I'm really sorry to hear this ... I enjoy your style quite a bit. Any chance you'd write something else from a different game?

I'll say this about FM08 ... my Padova team was having so much trouble scoring goals from open play I had no choice but to razor-tune my set piece tactics. At times my men are holy terrors from dead ball situations and I've had matches where that's the only way I score. It is a much different match engine from FM 07 (though darned if I know why or how). I love wide-open attacking play but at a lower league club that style can get you thrashed in a hurry.

Not a stinker, just different. But to stay on topic, I hope to see you writing something new. Cheers!

[Peacemaker7]

Can't say I blame you Irish, FM08 is dire imo. Really couldn't get into and one thing that really irritated me was the mouse movement in the game window seemed slow in comparison to FM07 (perhaps a silly point, but it really made it tough for me.)

There's no need to appologize, as I've to people before if you're not enjoying it, quit. Hopefully you'll come back with something else quite soon

[irishregan]

Thanks lads. As so often PM7, you hit the nail on the head when you called it "dire". It reminds me of CM4 (I think it was CM4) which was absolutely hideous. FM08 seems to have the same problems - keepers who play crap against everyone except you, top class strikers who score about once a season etc. I don't know how you're sticking it out for so long tenthreeleader

I might dig out FM07 if I can find a data update, since I have a fixation with having to have up to date squads. If anyone knows where one is available, let me know.

[Peacemaker7]

Yeah I tried to find the weegie update after accidently deleting mine, but it seems they don't keep archives

[tenthreeleader]

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

I don't know how you're sticking it out for so long tenthreeleader </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

I think the trick is never to concede. But then that's the obvious thing, isn't it?

I have the FM 2007 7.0.1 and 7.0.2 updates on my hard drive. If those are the ones you need, let me know. I really enjoyed FM07, as it was the first (and only) game I've ever won a European Cup while playing.

[Terk]

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Peacemaker7:

Yeah I tried to find the weegie update after accidently deleting mine, but it seems they don't keep archives </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

A version of the weegie update is on their site. A user had edited to add in some Jan 08 transfers and it's been put up for download on their site. You have to register to get the link though.

[copperhorse21]

Slightly off-topic, but I'll keep it brief.

I believe that this version of the game does keep things very realistic from the team management side of things. In real-life, it doesn't appear that clubs rise up more than one league in their careers, especially with one manager. The managers, like the players, do well and then get picked off by the clubs higher up the pecking order.

This version of the game seems to capture that philosophy better than the only other version that I played (WSM v.7.02).

For me, SI's philosophy of "the most realistic sim ever" is a double-edged sword. I wish the game did allow for more fantasy, but I guess that isn't in the cards.

Back on topic, I really enjoyed the start of this story and feel bad you didn't feel you could finish it. Your story-telling was strong and my comments mirror tenthree's as well.

Hope you find a version you can enjoy.

[irishregan]

Quick update and I know we're getting slightly OT (sorry Terk) but I found a utility http://www.sortitoutsi.net/index.php?page=downloads&area=file&fileid=6066 it's a data update for FM 2007 as of 30th March 2008. I'll test it out and see what it's like.

Thanks again for the favourable comments lads.