The Life and Times of Michael Strang (Mk II)

[Terk]

Cheers for the compliment, bluebirds. Sorry it's been away for over a month, but once again we're back and it's time to get on with the tale.

[Terk]

“Matty’s getting ****ed off.”

“What the **** does that bitch want?” Craig hadn’t caught me on my best day. Whilst preparing for our trip to Luton, I was furiously trying to get deals done and add numbers to the squad.

“Simple. Mo’ money.”

“You so can’t pull that off.”

“I know.”

“So he wants Premier League money?”

“Eight grand a week.”

“That all?”

“And two more years on his contract.”

“He can have it, no problem.” I was almost disappointed that Matty Fryatt wasn’t asking for more, I liked the ambition, it showed he felt he belonged at the level we were aiming for and I had no problem giving him the raise.

My mood was cheered considerably later that afternoon when we finally tied up a loan deal for Liverpool’s Scott Carson. The twenty-one year old seemed to know that his days at Anfield were likely numbered behind Pepe Reina and he was only too happy to take a year of first team football elsewhere.

At the same time as we were doing the deal for Carson, we had asked about the availability of Frenchman Anthony Le Tallec. He’d spent the previous season on loan at Le Mans and had done very well, but with a permanent move failing to materialise and Rafa Benítez not considering him part of the first team set up, he was available and apparently willing. Now it was just time to wait for a decision.

[Terk]

Luton vs. Leicester, Kenilworth Road

Friendly, Saturday 7th July 2007

Scott Carson had joined the ranks in time to make the trip to Luton and was thrown into a starting line-up that once again read like a team sheet from last season. Kaebi, Traoré, Hume, Wesolowski and Fryatt all joined him in coming into the starting XI.

To be honest, the team that set forth to start the game against Luton did little to impress. Just as against Levski, neither side looked to have any sort of energy in their legs and the game was as goalless as it was lifeless when the referee’s whistle brought with it the sweet release of half time.

A few changes were made at the break and it seemed to pay off straight away, Iain Hume’s replacement Kenny Pavey swinging over a cross which Levi Porter side-footed home at the back post within a minute of the restart.

Pavey was causing the Luton defence more than his fair share of problems, Richard Jackson at left back simply couldn’t keep a close enough eye on him and the winger got his goal reward just after the hour. Ricard Stearman had avoided the half time cull and made a forward break from centre back, rolling a pass between Jackson and Spurr for Pavey to run onto, and his first time shot rasped into the top corner.

With the game won we eased up again, conserving what energy we had and Luton began to enjoy a spell of possession. They had a couple of chances which Carson did well to swat away, but with just five minutes left, veteran substitute Don Hutchinson stole in at the near post, sending Stephen McPhail’s cross in off his knee.

I would have been perfectly happy had the match ended at that score, but Pavey quickly took it upon himself to restore our two goal advantage. Having won a free kick on the right flank, he then got himself positioned for Stearman’s delivery, and when Keith Keane failed to control the cross, Pavey was on hand to hammer home unmarked from eight yards.

It had proven to be another good run out, and already I was starting to get a feeling about who would and wouldn’t be up for the season ahead.

Luton 1 – 3 Leicester

(Hutchinson 85)

(Porter 46, Pavey 64, 89)

Man of the Match: Richard Stearman (9)

[Terk]

On Monday afternoon we boarded a plane bound for Sicily, and Palermo in particular. Before we had, however, there had been yet more transfer business to deal with as Matty Fryatt happily put pen to paper on his new deal and won himself a glowing interview in The Mercury for doing so.

More pressing, however, was our decision to go back in for Aston Villa’s Craig Gardner. The versatile lad had knocked us back once, refusing even to discuss a contract, but word had reached our ears that all was not well with negotiations to take him north of the border to the Old Firm and we returned to Villa with the same £1,800,000 package they had previously accepted from us.

As we landed at Palermo International Airport and boarded a coach to take us to the city centre, a phone call from the chairman brought with it further transfer goodness. Anthony Le Tallec had mulled over our offer of a year at the Walkers Stadium and considered it better than returning to his homeland. He turned down the deal that Sochaux had put in front of him and committed himself to joining our ranks; he’d be ready and waiting for his first training session when we returned from our Italian sojourn.

[Wegason]

Good to see this back, looking forward to more already!

[Terk]

Thanks, Weg If I was able to on the new board software I might have changed your status from 'Amateur' to 'Terk's #1 fan' Good to know you still enjoy the work.

[Terk]

Palermo vs. Leicester, Renzo Barbea

Friendly, Wednesday 11th July 2007

With Patrick Kisnorbo, James Wesolowski and Hosain Kaebi all away on duty with their respective nations at the Asian Cup, there were a few changes made to the starting line up for our visit to Sicily. It may have been a friendly match, but we were playing a Serie A side and I didn’t want us to leave with our tail between our legs, so it was a pretty strong XI, including Mauro Zárate, which took to the field.

There were some twelve and a half thousand fans in the stands, but I was more impressed with the names that lined up to face us. I was well aware of the talents of players like Zaccardo, Esparza, Amauri and Miccoli and hoped simply that they’d be too early into their pre-season work to beat us like I expected them to.

Given the way the first half hour went, however, I should have been worried about them not giving us a game at all. It seemed like the pink-shirted Italians weren’t interested in the slightest as we ran rings around them, Zárate in particular causing Zaccardo and Drost in the centre of defence endless problems.

Indeed, it was Mauro who opened the scoring just after the quarter hour. Alan Maybury floated a free kick in from the right flank, and though Zaccardo won the initial header, Stephen Glass prodded the ball back into the penalty area and Zárate found himself with just enough time and space to squeeze off a shot. He did so with perfect accuracy, and Federico Agliardi in the Palermo goal could only get fingertips to it, not enough to prevent the shot sneaking in off the inside of the post.

Mauro could, perhaps should have had a hat-trick by the half hour; when he was one-on-one with Agliardi, he shot straight at the ‘keeper and then he put a header wide from six yards after Levi Porter had whipped a corner kick straight onto his forehead.

Clearly Palermo weren’t going to snooze like this for the whole game, and around the half hour mark they began to wake up. As they did so, we had no answer to the ease with which they passed the ball, and with seven minutes remaining in the half they pulled themselves level. Fabio Simplicio played a neat give-and-go with Esparza and then tucked the ball between Stearman’s legs before sliding his shot underneath Carson. It was a moment of absolute class, and something I doubted any of my players would even have the balls to try.

The second half was just as one way as most of the first had been, only this time it was in the favour of the home side. The flair with which their equaliser had come had spooked us, and even adding some fresh legs from the bench didn’t brighten us up. Instead we watched on as Simplicio was given all the time he wanted to pick his spot from twenty-five yards and arrow his shot beyond the despairing Carson.

In the end it was a useful lesson, we’d been taught just what sides at this level could do to you. All I could do now was hope it was a lesson we’d remember as we embarked upon our Premier League campaign.

Palermo 2 – 1 Leicester

(Simplicio 38, 63)

(Zárate 17)

Man of the Match: Fabio Simplicio (8)

[Terk]

“What?”

“I said Malcolm Christie’s out for three, maybe four weeks.” Every time I spoke I was having to raise my voice, the technology behind my conference call with Criag Mulholland and Milan Mandaric back in Leicester didn’t seem to be at the cutting edge.

Craig hadn’t joined us on our Italian trip, selflessly staying in dull, wet Leicester to represent me in the transfer dealings that were happening, but it meant that I spent most of my day trying to figure out what he’d said through the mess of static on the phone line.

“Craig Gardner’s ready to say yes. He’s turned down Watford, West Brom, Celtic and Rangers and he’s willing to sign the four year deal you wanted.”

“Do it.”

“And we’ve finally got an agreement with Preston. Three point two million if we want Billy Jones. He’s eager to join, by the way.”

“Do it. Try and get him in for the Anderlecht game.”

“When are you guys back?”

“Monday afternoon.”

“Do you want to move on James Beattie again?”

“We’ll talk about that when I get back.” Like with Craig Gardner, the word was that James Beattie wasn’t happy with any of the deals that had been put in front of him, and that should we return with another offer he may now be willing to speak to us. Other than Mauro, I wasn’t convinced we had the strikers to score the goals we needed in the Premier League, and someone like James would be absolute gold dust. It was just a case of could we still afford him.

[Terk]

Catania vs. Leicester, Angelo Massimino

Friendly, Sunday 15th July 2007

We moved across to the east coast of Sicily for our second and final game in Italy, and had spent the Saturday afternoon walking round the quite beautiful city centre of Catania. There were times when I wondered just why it was I had moved to Leicester, depending on how I felt that day it was either the sight of the training ground or my bank balance that provided the answer.

Catania had just survived relegation from Serie A in the last campaign, and I was certainly anticipating an easier time of it than we had against Palermo. Still, we fielded a strong side, the only change was enforced, seeing Iain Hume come in for Malcolm Christie, who had suffered a broken cheekbone when Seth Johnson went into a tackle a bit too eagerly in training.

The game was played at a traditional Italian pace; I certainly didn’t want any more than that from my players given the heat of the day, but there were still a few tasty challenges flying in. Kenny Pavey found himself on the wrong end of one after twenty-five minutes, a crunching body-check leaving him prone and clearly winded. As the doc helped him off the field, Matty Fryatt trundled on to take his place, Hume moving to the right wing to cover the hole left by Kenny’s withdrawal.

Despite the loss of Pavey, we were the better team and by quite a distance as we passed the ball well and were creating some half decent chances. The best fell to Jordan Stewart just after the half hour, racing onto a pass from Zárate and mis-hitting his shot past former Real Madrid goalkeeper Albano Bizzarri and into the corner of the net.

Early into the second half we doubled our advantage, Hume taking a pass from Biscan and cutting in from the right, continuing unchallenged by the Catania defence until he had only Bizzarri to beat and slotted his shot easily past the Argentinean ‘keeper. Konstantinos Makridis pulled one back for the home side, but when Zárate headed home from Porter’s cross on sixty-three minutes, it was game over.

Or so I thought. We flooded the field with substitutions after Mauro’s goal and it had the effect of turning us into headless chickens as we began to chase Sicilian shadows. With just five minutes remaining, Gionatha Spinesi rose at the back post to halve the gap, and two minutes later he equaliser for Catania when he broke clear of Joe Mattock and rounded Carson, walking the ball into the empty net. I wasn’t overly concerned at the capitulation; I was much more interested in the first hour of the game. It was becoming clearer all the time just how much we’d have to play to our Argentinean strength if we were to stay up.

Catania 3 – 3 Leicester

(Makridis 55, Spinesi 85, 87)

(Stewart 31, Hume 49, Zárare 63)

Man of the Match: Mauro Zárate (8)

[Terk]

When we arrived back in England on Monday afternoon, all I wanted to do was head for home and spend some time with Eileen, but there was business to be dealt with at the club.

Both Kenny Pavey and Scott Carson headed for medical assessments, and the news from Kenny’s wasn’t good; the winger would miss the start of the season with fractured ribs, but whilst Carson would miss the final two friendlies due to the cut on his face, he’d be fighting fit for our trip to face Wigan on opening day.

We debated the James Beattie issue for an hour or so, eventually coming to the conclusion that there was simply no one else with his experience and talent available to us. If there was even the slightest chance that he’d want to talk to us, we had to go for it. The club faxed a renewed bid of £3,700,000 to Sheffield United, and later that same evening we received permission from the Yorkshire outfit to talk to their striker.

Finally, just past ten at night, I stumbled through the front door of the house. I’d had one of the coaches drive me back; I was barely awake enough to think let alone drive. I dropped my bag and jacket in the hallway and saw Eileen curled up on the sofa, the TV still chuntering away whilst she slept. I pulled a blanket over her and willed my legs to carry me the final five feet before they could relinquish their responsibility and drop me into the arm chair.

[Terk]

Wednesday 18th July was an important day in the build up to our league campaign. Billy Jones signed on the dotted line to join from Preston whilst James Beattie arrived for contract talks. Most of his demands we could meet, he wanted a three year deal and various appearance and goal bonuses, but we were some £8,000 per week shy of the figure he insisted upon for his basic wage.

It was a significant stumbling block. We simply couldn’t afford to spend £22,000 per week on one player, we were stretching ourselves as it was to offer £14,000. James left with his agent, saying he had a lot to think about and would let us know as soon as possible. We were convinced he had already answered us in the negative.

We began to look at various other options, but of those with Premier League experience, only really Shola Ameobi and Marlon Harewood were within our price range, and neither was someone I had any sort of confidence in. It came down to a decision on whether to back what we already had, or take the gamble on someone like Nicky Maynard from lower down the leagues in the hope that they could make the step up.

All our problems were solved on Thursday afternoon, however, when James’ agent contacted the club to let us know he was ready to sign the deal we had put in front of him. In a decision I never thought I’d see, Sheffield United were so desperate to get the bulk of his £25,000 per week wages off the bill, they agreed to continue paying him £6,000 per week for the duration of his three year deal with us. It was wonderful news, not least for the positive reaction of the fans when James was unveiled to the press, and I quickly jotted down a thank you note for United chairman Kevin McCabe.

[Terk]

Anderlecht vs. Leicester, Stade Constant Vanden Stock

Friendly, Friday 20th July 2007

Save for two or three names, the side we fielded in Belgium was the side I expected to be named against Wigan on the opening day of the season. It was our final friendly after Racing cancelled our proposed trip to El Sardinero, and though I had wanted to field my absolute strongest team, various fitness issues hadn’t allowed that. I was excited though, to see James and Mauro link up for the first time whilst Anthony Le Tallec made his first appearance in a Leicester shirt on the right of midfield.

Obviously I was expecting Anderlecht to be a very tough opponent, more often than not they welcomed European football to their world and they had a few players that any side would pay good money to get their hands on. I wasn’t, however, ready for just how much better than us they were. By the end of the match we had conceded twice, but it could have been a whole lot more. And I couldn’t use any typical pre-season excuses; the simple fact of the matter was that they were a considerably better side than we were.

They took the lead in the eighth minute; it was already their third chance of the match to do so. French striker Cyril Théréeau got in behind our centre back pairing of Billy Jones and Sergio Hellings, controlled the ball with a superb first touch and slid his shot past Andy McNeil. We tried hard to fashion ourselves an opening of similar quality, but largely we were restricted to long shots which never really troubled Silvio Proto in the Anderlecht goal.

There were plenty of chances for Anderlecht to increase their lead, the fact that they passed so many of them up was one of the few bright spots in the game for us, though it was little to do with anything positive on our part. The Belgian side simply didn’t seem to have their shooting boots on, and it took them until past the hour mark before they doubled their advantage. It was former Southampton defender Jelle van Damme who finally did get their second, coming onto a loose ball just outside the penalty area and hammering a shot well beyond McNeil’s grasp.

I could only hope that the players had learned from having been so comprehensively outplayed. I was sure it was a situation we would face at various points during our Premier League campaign and perhaps now we were better equipped to deal with it. If that did prove to be the case then our trip to Belgium would have most certainly been worth it.

Anderlecht 2 – 0 Leicester

(Théréau 8, Van Damme 64)

Man of the Match: Jelle van Damme (9)

[Terk]

Twenty-two days had passed as slowly as a year. It was twenty-two days since we had played Anderlecht and I was sitting on the coach on a bright Saturday morning as we headed towards the JJB Stadium. There had been plenty had happened in those twenty-two days, but the wait for the season to begin had been utterly interminable.

Once again I had been awful company for Eileen as I moped around the house, playing over different formations and team-lists in my head. I barely initiated a conversation and had only a few words to say when she did. Luckily she was a very patient woman and understood perfectly why I felt as I did. The wait for the Wigan game felt bigger than anything I had done during my time in football, either as player or manager, and I just wanted it to arrive, whatever the outcome.

We had reduced the wage bill a little by moving on Mark de Vries and Gareth McAuley. Mark had had his uses in the Championship, but I couldn’t see him getting many Premier League minutes under his belt. When Bristol City came in with a £500,000 offer, I was only too happy to bring him in. When they returned five days later with an £50,000 offer for McAuley, I was even happier.

One player we had no intention of selling was Levi Porter, despite the interest the winger had been attracting. He had been reading plenty of it in the papers and the feeling around the squad was that he was interested in a move, so we decided to bring the situation to a head, offering him a take it or leave it five year deal. Thankfully, within twenty-four hours he came back and put pen to paper, happily committing himself to the club.

[Terk]

Wigan vs. Leicester, JJB Stadium

Premier League, Saturday 18th August 2007

“Aaaaarrrrrgggggggh! ****, **** ****, ****!” That was approximately the sound that James Beattie made as he went over on his ankle in the pre-match warm-up. He crumpled to the ground, having tried to make a sharp turn and felt his ankle completely give way beneath him. Straight away the stretcher was called for; there was a serious thought that it could be a break. More immediately, it threw my game preparations into chaos. It meant Matty Fryatt would start the game, but I was sure we would miss James’ physical presence against a strong Wigan side.

James had been bundled into an ambulance and sent off to hospital before the game kicked-off, and I certainly felt that our sluggish start to the game had something to do with the players wondering about the striker’s condition. The rest of our line-up I was pretty happy with, we partnered Billy Jones and Patrick Kisnorbo in central defence whilst Scott Carson, Anthony Le Tallec, Craig Gardner and Mauro Zárate all joined Billy in making their debuts.

Wigan didn’t look like the most threatening of Premier League sides, although in Georgiev, Koumas and Aghahowa, they did have a few flair players who could hurt us if we let them. However, I was confident in shutting them down, and if we did that I was certain we could take at least a point from the match.

We were sluggish though, indeed that might be a bit too kind of a way to describe our performance. We struggled to string passes together, we couldn’t create anything even approaching a clear chance and for large parts of the first half we were merely chasing the shadows of those adorned in blue and white.

The saving grace was that Wigan were failing to capitalise on their superiority; more often than not they found that Henri Camara and Julius Aghahowa were simply getting in each other’s way rather than combining effectively as a partnership. When Camara failed miserably to find Aghahowa with a cross deep in injury time and the half time whistle sounded, I was beginning to believe again that we might be able to steal the undeserved from the game.

We tried to fire the boys up at half time, by then we had got news back that James hadn’t broken his ankle – just badly twisted it – and I was relying on a renewed spirit flowing through us in the second period. Unfortunately, within four minutes of the restart, our plan of playing on the counter attack and thieving a late winner were smashed at our feet.

The move started when Armand Traoré gave away a needless free kick, thirty yards out on Wigan’s right flank. Denny Landzaat was alive to opportunity and took the kick quickly, catching us fast asleep. Jason Koumas ran into space on the edge of the penalty area, and though the Welshman had his attempted shot blocked by Patrick Kisnorbo, the ball fell kindly to Aghahowa just inside the box and he rifled a first time shot into the corner of the net with unerring accuracy.

It had been exactly the blow we knew we couldn’t afford, yet in hindsight the one that was somehow inevitable. By the end of the game the boys had abandoned our game plan entirely and were simply lumping ball after ball high into the air and as far forward as possible. Even had James been on the pitch, I wouldn’t have approved of it, but with two relatively small strikers in our line up it was the biggest waste of possession I could possibly think of. As I fell back into my seat for the coach ride home, the only thought that occupied my mind was of just how long and how hard a season this could be.

Wigan 1 – 0 Leicester

(Aghahowa 49)

Man of the Match: Paul Scharner (8)

[Terk]

“I think every manager who comes into the Premier League says it, but it was just a lesson for us that mistakes are far more readily punished at this level. Neither side really looked like they were going to create anything, then Manny gave away a stupid free kick and we didn’t react quickly enough to the loose ball.”

Sat on the sofa on Goals on Sunday, I had just listened to Chris Kamara spend two minutes ripping into our lifeless performance.

“Do you think the boys you’ve got are good enough to stay up or are there any late deals in the pipeline.”

“I’m perfectly happy with our squad. We’ve done our business for this window, we wanted everyone in by the time the season kicked off and we managed to do that. I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought we had no chance of staying in the division.”

“You’ve been handed a difficult start, Arsenal on Wednesday then Man City on Saturday, you could quickly be looking up at a lot of teams above you.”

“You’re assuming we don’t beat Arsenal.”

[Terk]

Leicester vs. Arsenal, Walkers Stadium

Premier League, Wednesday 29th August 2007

To be fair, Kamara was pretty spot on right to assume that Arsenal would breeze into town and leave with three points easily tucked in their back pocket. When you compared the teamsheets, we didn’t have anything that could even come close to the likes of Hleb, Fàbregas, Rosicky, Mutu or Van Persie, I doubt the prospect of facing Hosain Kaebi had Gaël Clichy quaking in his boots.

With James’ injury confirmed as a twisted ankle, he would be on the sidelines for the best part of a month. Mauro and Matty hadn’t gelled as a partnership at the JJB, so we had worked on a 4-4-1-1 for the visit of Wenger’s men with Levi Porter playing just behind the lone striker, Zárate. All my hopes we laid at the feet of defensive solidity and the tiny possibility that we could hold out for a clean sheet and put our first point on the board.

For thirty-eight minutes it looked like the plan could work. Of course, Arsenal were the better side and eager to show it, but their predilection for walking the ball into the net, always looking for the next pass rather than an opportunity to score, allowed us to get back in numbers, organise our defence and keep them at bay. Igor Biscan, Patrick Kisnorbo and Billy Jones were in outstanding form and it took a moment of staggering magic from Fàbregas to break us down.

The little Spaniard had been largely a peripheral player during the start of the match, happy to let his central midfield partner Tomas Rosicky do the brunt of the work. In the thirty-ninth minute, however, he had obviously had enough. Picking the ball up twenty-five yards from goal, he had Biscan and Seth Johnson for close company, but a Zidane-esque spin saw him slip from their attention before he curled a shot across Carson’s goal, leaving our ‘keeper grasping at thin air as the ball nestled in the top corner.

The goal knocked every ounce of stuffing out of us, and before the sweet release of the half time whistle, they could easily have had another three goals. As it was, they had to settle for adding just once more to Cesc’s strike. Adrian Mutu had spurned a good chance on twenty minutes when he shot wide of the post, but he worked space for himself down the right, and then turned down the chance to shoot, instead taking our defenders by surprise, drilling a ball across the six yard box for Eduardo to volley home at the back post.

It was difficult to know what to say to the lads at half time. They had worked their socks off for the entire half, and they deserved for their quality and organisation to have the comfort of walking down the tunnel with the scores still tied. To have done nothing wrong and be staring down a two goal deficit was gut wrenching.

We had to change personnel as Levi had picked up a slight knock and needed to come off. Anthony Le Tallec was sent on in his place, and we decided that with nothing more to lose, save perhaps our dignity and goal difference, we would come out with all guns blazing. The boys were sent out with Le Tallec partnering Zárate up front in a standard 4-4-2 with instructions to take the game as much to Arsenal as they could; if we were going to go down, we were going to do so fighting.

It was obviously the last thing that Arsenal had expected, for fifteen minutes we had them on the ropes, desperately searching for a defence as we looked for the killer blows we knew we had to land. One came just four minutes into the half, Seth Johnson spotting space in behind Touré and Djourou and setting Zárate free. Mauro took the ball without breaking stride and, one-on-one with Jens Lehmann, rounded the German ‘keeper and slotted the ball into the empty net.

From that point on, nearly twenty-seven thousand Leicester fans sang themselves horse in an attempt to spur us on. The boys reacted perfectly, pushing further onto Arsenal, taking advantage of an ever shakier backline. Just before the hour mark we finally got what we had been searching for, when William Gallas went to pass the ball back to Lehmann, he hadn’t spotted Le Tallec tearing up behind him. Our Frenchman pinched the ball almost as soon as it had left his countryman’s foot before being the second person to round Lehmann in eight minutes, and like Mauro before him, he slid the ball into the waiting net.

The noise was now deafening, but there was one thing sure to kill the atmosphere stone dead. We were pushing on in search of the most unlikely of winners, and with an almost depressing inevitability we were hit on the break. In very un-Arsenal style, Clichy thumped a long ball up field, and with our defensive line high, Mutu found plenty space to latch onto the pass. Carson raced out to try and cut him off, but with the ‘keeper stranded thirty yards from his goal, Mutu simply lifted a shot over him and into the empty net behind.

I couldn’t see any way back, but we went for it anyway. Hosain Kaebi was withdrawn from his right wing role and Matty Fryatt sent on as a third striker. We tried everything we could, but with Arsenal now happy to sit on what they had, we couldn’t find a way through. Well, we couldn’t until the eighty-sixth minute.

It was once again Seth Johnson who carved out the chance, a perfect slide-rule ball between Gallas and Touré finding Fryatt in space. The substitute raced onto the pass and looked likely to shoot from his tight angle, but instead he looked up and rolled a pass to Le Tallec, leaving Lehmann stranded and Anthony with the simplest of tap-ins. The referee’s final whistle couldn’t come quickly enough, the seven minutes we had to sit through felt like the passing of an ice age, but eventually it did arrive, and what he looked impossible at half time had come to pass, we had pilfered ourselves a point.

Leicester 3 – 3 Arsenal

(Zárate 49, Le Tallec 57, 86)

(Fàbregas 39, Eduardo 43, Mutu 64)

Man of the Match: Adrian Mutu (8)

[Terk]

As Michael had walked off the Tynecastle pitch, a bounce in his step after having made his debut as an eighteen year old, it would not have crossed his mind that fourteen years later he’d be able to walk down the city streets, the same ones he had done as a child, in anonymity. Back then it had felt like the world was about to change, that his life would never feel the same again, but here he was, strolling down Gorgie Road, less recognised than the owner of a local shop.

It was a strange feeling, he had moved back to Edinburgh from Preston largely due to the fact that so appreciated was he during his time at North End that he could barely buy a pint of milk without having to shake a dozen hands, but at the same time he had hoped his career would have had a greater impact on his hometown. If he were honest, the whole thing left him feeling a little empty.

What was of more pressing importance, however, was what he was going to do with his life. He had never considered a move into coaching; he was finished with football and happy to be so, but his career had not earned him the sort of nest egg that meant he would never have to lift a finger again. For the first time in his adult life he didn’t have a plan, there was nothing to do when he got up in the morning, and that was something he needed to address quickly.

[Terk]

There was plenty of self-congratulatory back-slapping when the players reported for a light training session on Thursday afternoon. Anthony Le Tallec was the subject of much attention from his teammates, and it was good to see the Frenchman was being so welcomed into the squad. The fans had dubbed him ‘Tony Le Talent’ after his performance against Arsenal and the only down side I could see if he continued at such a level was that the price Liverpool could demand for his permanent transfer would soar.

We had plenty of time to prepare for our trip to Eastlands, the first international break of the season fell at the start of September, and we focused mainly on the system we would play. I didn’t want to work the lads too hard in the days after they had put in such a power of work against Arsenal, and keeping a light spirit in the camp was something I thought could work, hopefully freeing them up to play some better football in the games to come.

[Terk]

Manchester City vs. Leicester, City of Manchester Stadium

Premier League, Saturday 15th September 2007

If there was one thing that ManCity lacked in their side, it was genuine width. They were packed with talent, from Vedran Ćorluka at right back, David Beckham in midfield to Elano and Kevin Doyle up front, they could hurt us from anywhere on the pitch. Watching video of their two opening games, however, they lined up in a 4-1-3-2 formation, playing narrowly with Beckham, Micah Riachards and Ousmane Dabo all tucked in the centre of the pitch and Rio Mavuba sitting deep behind them. If we could get the ball wide, get Le Tallec and Porter running at their full backs, I felt we could at least force a point from the game if not all three.

Of course, that gameplan involved a certain amount of seeing the ball, which was exactly what City denied us throughout the game. Arsenal had perhaps been more cutting with the possession they had against us, slicing through us with passing moves that beggared belief, but City were playing an equally brilliant game of keep-ball. Between Beckham, Mavuba and Elano I don’t think there was a misplaced pass in the entire ninety minutes, and inevitably that induced a level of panic into our play when finally we did get a touch.

Despite all their time on the ball, however, the one thingCity lacked was the killer edge to put their chances away. I was a big fan of Kevin Doyle, I was one of the few who hadn’t flinched at the price tag when City paid Reading a handsome £10,000,000 for his services in the summer, but the Irishman was having an off day against us. Twice in the first half hour he was put through one-on-one with Scott Carson but could only shoot straight at our ‘keeper.

Indeed, so wasteful were City that it was us who had the ball in the back of the net first, but Malcolm Christie’s effort was disallowed for offside. The former Middlesbrough man had found some space between centre backs Dunne and Davino, but as Zárate’s ball was floated into the penalty area, he strayed just off and the assistant on the far side was quick to raise his flag, denying Malcolm his moment as he guided a perfect, looping header past Kasper Schmeichel in the City goal.

We suffered a blow when Mauro was unable to take to the field for the second half. He had come off second best in a crunching challenge with Michael Ball just as the whistle sounded for the break, and it turned out he had quite badly stubbed his toe and was struggling to put weight on it. I didn’t want to risk making things worse with one of my star players, and so sent Matty Fryatt on for the second half to partner Malcolm.

The second forty-five played out much the same as had the first, all in all City were the better side and I could certainly understand the frustrations of their fans by the end, but both Patrick Kisnorbo and Billy Jones put in excellent defensive performances that kept us afloat.

Just as in the first half as well, it was us who came the closest to breaking the deadlock. With time ticking down towards the final whistle and City getting increasingly desperate in their attempts to carve out a goal, we broke quickly upfield and Levi Porter played in Fryatt. Just as Matty looked to square the ball to Christie, Dabo caught his heel and sent him tumbling. The referee had no hesitation in pointing to the spot and Anthony Le Tallec grabbed the ball. He looked confident as he strode back from placing the ball on the spot, but Schmeichel guessed the right way and pushed his effort round the post. The corner came to nothing and we had wasted our last and best chance to steal all three points.

Manchester City 0 – 0 Leicester

(Le Tallec m/pen 84)

Man of the Match: Micah Richards (8)

[Terk]

I raised the glass to my lips and sucked down the last few drops of orange juice - a visit to the doctor had left me with the suggestion that I should cut down on my coffee intake – and the floorboards creaked above, a signal that Eileen had risen from her sleep.

‘You’re up early again.’ There was nothing more than a nod of my head to acknowledge her statement.

‘What is it this time?’

‘Same as always.’ I was sat at the dining table, a bowl of now soggy muesli in front of me and a stack of physio and coach reports through which I was pouring.

‘It’s Sunday. You’ve no training today, you’ve no game until Wednesday, you’re going to put all this away and spend the day with me.’

I was about to argue, tell her that there was more to do as a football manager than just order people around a training pitch, but when I looked up, she was standing in front of me with her robe open and a smile on my face. My pen dropped to the floor at about the same speed as my jaw, and once I’d composed myself, she took me by the hand and led me back upstairs.

[Terk]

Ipswich vs. Leicester, Portman Road

Carling Cup 2nd Round, Wednesday 19th September 2007

‘Jordan, Iain, Billy, Ashley, Stephen. We’ll sort the rest as and when.’ After a hundred and twenty goalless minutes, I was now beginning to regret not having had the foresight to get in some penalty practice with the lads. I’d been trying to figure out during the whole of extra time who should take the spot kicks and in the end resorted to asking for volunteers.

To be honest though, we should never have let the game get to that point. Yes, we had fielded some fringe players; Andy McNeil, Joe Mattock, Sergio Hellings, Stephen Glass and Ashley Chambers were all in the starting line-up, but that was no excuse for missing the number of chances that we had. Matty Fryatt wasted the best of them, twice missing from eight yards when given the opportunity for a free header inside the first quarter hour.

Ipswich hadn’t managed even a single shot on goal in the first half, we had mustered seven attempts, five of which were on target and none of which had overly tested the hosts’ goalkeeper, Neil Alexander. Indeed, such was the lack of threat coming from Ipswich, Billy Jones was able to largely abandon his centre back position and spend his time marauding forward from midfield, and it was he who first forced a top class save from Alexander, drilling a shot from twenty-five yards early in the second half which the Scot clawed round the post when it appeared already to have been past him.

Soon afterwards we lost Kenny Pavey when he twisted his knee, landing awkwardly after challenging for a header, but with Iain Hume replacing him, we arguably had a player better suited to a tight game coming on. What should have been the killer blow for Ipswich came just after the hour mark when Danny Haynes scythed Hume down on the edge of the home side’s penalty area.

Haynes had picked up a yellow card in the first half for booting the ball halfway down the pitch after the whistle had gone, and almost as soon as he had made contact with Iain he was heading for the bench, knowing exactly what was coming as the referee flashed his yellow card and then fished in his top pocket for the red.

I think it was partly the fact that they then closed up shop even more securely than they had done before and partly a slight air of complacency amongst our players that meant the rest of the game was played out in quiet, nondescript fashion. There was barely another chance to speak of, and neither side looked like they wanted to risk making a mistake in extra time. The inevitable was inching closer, and when the whistle finally sounded, I asked who wanted to take a penalty, and it was the five who didn’t immediately look sheepishly at their feet who were given the duty.

We gathered on the halfway line and watched as Pablo Couñago strode towards the penalty area to get us underway. The Spaniard had barely touched the ball through the whole game, but he was unerringly composed as he tucked his effort to McNeil’s left whilst the ‘keeper dived right. Jordan Stewart was first up for us and struck a carbon copy of Couñago’s effort before David Wright thundered one straight down the middle and almost ripped a hole in the back of the net, restoring Ipswich’s lead.

Iain Hume was given the chance to square things up at two-all, but the sound that resonated around the ground as his head dropped into his hands was that of the ball smacking the woodwork. It was another defender who rested the ball on the spot next for Ipswich, and like Wright before him, Matt Richards put his foot through the ball, going undoubtedly for power and leaving McNeil with little chance of keeping his effort out. Billy Jones kept us in it, but only just as his shot was pushed onto the post by Alexander before it span over the line, coming to rest only a few inches behind it. Billy Clarke made it four from four for the hosts, his effort just as emphatic as those of his teammates, and it heaped pressure onto the shoulders of Ashley Chambers.

The youngster had done well in an outing meant to gauge his readiness for first team football, and it was perhaps unfair to entrust him with such an important penalty, certainly given that he fired it three feet over the crossbar, hindsight would say that it definitely was. We had lost a game that there was little doubt we should have won, and the faces of the players as they trudged off the pitch said all that was needed.

Ipswich 0 – 0 Leicester (After extra time) (Ipswich won 4 – 2 on penalties)

(Haynes s/off 64)

Man of the Match: Billy Jones (9)

[Terk]

‘You need to get yourself a life.’ Craig Mulholland had just dropped three tonnes of coaching reports on my desk, startling me from my comfortable sleep.

‘I’m a football manager. We don’t do lives.’ I kept blinking my eyes, trying to clear the fog from my mind but I couldn’t focus on anything.

‘Seriously. Friends. People away from football to talk to, spend time with, stop yourself from going completely mental.’

‘I’ve got Eileen.’

‘I mean more than just a **** buddy.’ I managed to open my eyes long enough to give him a fierce stare, letting him know that he’d crossed the line and without any further opinion he made himself scarce.

The thing that annoyed me more than anything was that I knew he was right. Falling asleep at my desk long after night had fallen outside was becoming a more and more regular occurrence; my night’s sleep interrupted only by the cleaners making their rounds in the early hours.

What little time I did spend at the house was invaded by hours of games on DVD and mountains of paperwork; the only time Eileen and I seemed to spend together was in the bedroom. I couldn’t honestly remember the last time we had gone out of the house together, and beyond her the only people I knew in the city didn’t exist outside of the context of the football club. I had convinced myself that this was what it took to be successful, and I couldn’t see myself changing any time soon.

[Terk]

Leicester vs. Middlesbrough, Walkers Stadium

Premier League, Saturday 22nd September 2007

When seen on a fixture list, this was hardly one that was ever going to warm the cockles of the neutral. Middlesbrough were the very definition of mid-table anonymity and were unlikely to be changing their lot in life any time soon. We were still in the position of doing anything we could to scramble results whilst we adapted to the step up and there was not one thing which pointed towards a classic match.

Those sorts of stereotypes are, of course, made for the exact purpose of being blown out of the water, but they exist in the first place thanks to a degree of truth. Unfortunately for the twenty-seven thousand people who had paid good money for an uncomfortable plastic seat in the Walkers Stadium on a wet Saturday afternoon, neither side showed anything like the sort of ambition that would be needed to prove the stereotype wrong.

We were already beginning to suffer from injuries, Pavey having joined Beattie and Zárate on the treatment table after the game against Ipswich. Anthony Le Tallec resumed his role on the right flank of midfield in place of Pavey, but our woes would not stop there as, by the sixty-fifth minute of the match, we had seen both Matty Fryatt and Patrick Kisnorbo forced off with knocks.

Matty lasted only four minutes before he needed to be replaced, an accidental clash of heads with Robert Huth forcing him off, Iain Hume taking his place up front. Iain was hardly given a chance to impress though, as we failed to even compete with Middlesbrough, let alone take any measure of control over the game.

It was in the eleventh minute of the game that ‘Boro scored the only goal needed to see them coast easily towards three points. Playing on the left wing, Sanli Tuncay robbed Richard Stearman as the defender hung onto the ball for too long. The Turkish international strode clear into the penalty area and quickly flashed his shot across Carson, perhaps the ‘keeper could have got a hand to the shot, but as he lay sprawled on the ground, having grasped at nothing but air, the ball nestled in the corner of the net and precipitated a deathly silence around the ground.

Really it was thanks only to the apparent toothless nature of the Middlesbrough side that we escaped from the match with only a single goal defeat. Every aspect of our performance was disappointing, from the failure of Gardner and Biscan to put pressure on their midfield to the inability of our entire defensive line to get anywhere close to a ‘Boro attack that was far from world class. The Teesside club had taken four points from their first three games, and we singularly failed to challenge them for the three on offer at our own ground.

The final blow came on sixty-five minutes when Kisnorbo took a hefty blow on his ankle. Sliding into a tackle on Lee Cattermole, our Aussie came off by far the worse and needed to be helped from the field with what our physio feared might be a break. By that time I’d sent on our final two substitutes, replacing both Levi Porter and Igor Biscan, and so for tnwety-five minutes we were reduced to playing with ten men. Middlesbrough showed no ambition to add to their lead though, comfortable in the knowledge that we could do nothing to threaten that which they already had.

Leicester 0 – 1 Middlesbrough

(Tuncay 11)

Man of the Match: Sanli Tuncay (8)

[Terk]

I was trying to take Craig’s advice and spend a little more time away from the club. Saturday night had been one spent watching video of the Middlesbrough game over and over again, but for Sunday I promised myself that I wouldn’t do a single thing connected with football.

I had hardly got to know the city during my year living there, and it was nice to spend some time just wandering the streets and sitting in cafés with Eileen. There was only the occasional person who would made their way over to bother me, wanting to shake my hand or know what I thought about the previous day’s game.

It had been a wonderful day, an excellent way to relax and when I drove into the training ground on Monday morning I felt plenty refreshed and ready to spend the week preparing for the Blackburn match. Unfortunately, that optimism lasted about as long as it took the club’s physio to get hold of me.

***

‘So it’s not a break?’

‘No. But it’s a very bad sprain. At least a month before he can train, and I’d be very surprised if he can play before December.’

‘You’re a little ray of sunshine, you know that, Dave?’

‘Matty won’t make the Blackburn match either. He’s got some pretty nasty bruising on his head.’

‘At least there’s nothing to damage inside it.’ I made to leave but Dave grabbed my arm.

‘You’re really going to hate me now.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve had to send Levi Porter home. He’s got the flu. I’ve put him on bed rest for ten days.’

‘****ing brilliant.’

[Terk]

Blackburn vs. Leicester, Ewood Park

Premier League, Sunday 30th September 2007

There had been one bit of good news later in the week, Mauro Zárate was passed fit to resume playing and he was parachuted straight back into the team to play alongside Malcolm Christie in a two-man attack. Richard Stearman, however, had failed a late fitness test on a thigh strain and had to sit out, Alan Maybury taking his place in the side whilst Sergio Hellings deputised for Kisnorbo. Jordan Stewart came in on the left wing in place of Porter and we just about managed to scrape together enough players to fill the bench.

We had tried to tie up a deal for Scotland midfielder Nigel Quashie in time for him to at least feature on the bench for the trip to Ewood Park, but despite him being eager to join us having been released by West Ham, the loose ends of the deal weren’t done in time for his to pen his two year deal and he wouldn’t be part of our squad until after the international break.

I had hoped, at best, we might be able to match Blackburn in most departments and perhaps sneak a win if we were lucky. As such, before kick-off, I’d have gladly settled for a third draw from our first five Premier League games and moved on towards Wednesday’s game against Reading.

What we got in the first half was, in terms of possession, territory and chances, just what I’d wished for; a very even game. Both teams managed four shots on target and three off course and all over the pitch it was a clichéd, blood and guts, proper English game. The stat that mattered as the players made their way in at half time, however, was greatly in our favour. We led three-nil.

It would have been easy to simply single out Mauro Zárate as the reason we led so handsomely, but in truth there had been other important performances; Anthony Le Tallec had proved a handful down the right wing whilst Craig Gardner seemed finally to be finding his feet in midfield and Scott Carson was earning his keep in goal. Malcolm Christie also had a goal to his name, but it was Mauro who was undoubtedly the star.

In just the fourth minute of the match, he shocked the twenty-odd thousand home crowd with a fierce strike. Le Tallec had crossed from the right, his ball deflected into Mauro’s path by Blackburn defender, Bruno Berner. Their defence had no time to react and close him down though, as he put his foot straight through the ball, hammering it into the net before Jason Brown had had time to even move.

The hosts had two chances to equalise before we added to our lead in the fifteenth minute. First Roque Santa Cruz volleyed straight at Scott Carson, then our English ‘keeper pushed Morten Gamst Pedersen’s freekick onto the post, before Armand Traoré hastily hacked the ball into the stands. On the quarter hour though, we doubled our advantage when, after Andre Ooijer had stopped Jordan Stewart in his tracks, Zárate picked up on the loose ball and curled an inch perfect effort beyond Brown’s grasp from fifteen yards out.

The third came in short order; in fact just one hundred and twenty seconds separated the two strikes. From the kick off Blackburn looked to attack, and they might have pulled one back had Santa Cruz’s shot not again been weak and straight at Carson. They were slow to get back into position, however, and we struck hard and fast on the counter. The ball was swept quickly to Craig Gardner and the ex-Aston Villa man took just enough time over his pass to let Christie escape the attention of Sergey Ignashevich. Gardner slid a perfectly weighted thru-ball into Malcolm’s path and he chanced a glance at the goal before lifting his shot over the advancing Brown and watching it roll over the line, despite a despairing slide from Berner.

At half time our biggest job was to make the players believe that they hadn’t yet won the game. Given how even it had been so far, I knew we could just as easily end up drawing three-three as winning six-nil. They had to keep their focus, and I was certain that just one more goal and the game would be ours.

It was a message that the players took to heart, and just three minutes into the second half, Christie burst into the penalty area, only to be tripped by left back Kevin Larsen. Referee Andre Marriner immediately pointed to the spot, and Mauro grabbed the ball. He settled it on the spot and took his time composing himself, his shot eventually sending Brown the wrong way and completing his first hat-trick for the club.

Blackburn did finally pull one goal back just shy of the hour mark, Santa Cruz for one putting some power on his finish and beating Carson, but any slim hopes of a dramatic comeback were cut short just three minutes later when Ignashevich went in late and hard on Christie. Marriner had no hesitation in brandishing his red card, and after Benni McCarthy limped off on seventy-two minutes despite Blackburn having already used all three substitutions, they were down to nine men.

We managed one more against their depleted numbers, and again Mauro was at the heart of our good work. He took a pass from Stewart in his stride and closed in on Brown, attempting to squeeze a shot past the ‘keeper on his right. Brown got down well to push the ball away, but he pushed it only as far as Jordan Stewart, who tapped the rebound into the empty net as Brown watched on in horror.

Blackburn 1 – 5 Leicester

(Santa Cruz 59, Ignashevich s/off 62)

(Zárate 4, 15, pen 48; Christie 17; Stewart 89)

Man of the Match: Mauro Zárate (10)

[Terk]

 [font=Verdana][size=2]| Pos   | Team           | Pld   | Won   | Drn   | Lst   | For   | Ag    | G.D.  | Pts   | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 1st   | Liverpool       | 5     | 4        | 1     | 0     | 11    | 4      | +7    | 13    | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 2nd   | Newcastle    | 5     | 3        | 2     | 0     | 8      | 2      | +6    | 11    | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 3rd   | Arsenal         | 5     | 3       | 1     | 1     | 15     | 7      | +8    | 10    | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 4th   | Man Utd       | 5     | 3        | 1     | 1     | 7      | 5      | +2    | 10    | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 5th   | Chelsea        | 5     | 3        | 1     | 1     | 6      | 4      | +2    | 10    | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 6th   | Middlesbrough| 5     | 3       | 1     | 1     | 8       | 7      | +1    | 10    | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 7th   | Wigan           | 5     | 3       | 0     | 2     | 4      | 6       | -2    | 9     | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 8th   | Aston Villa     | 5     | 2       | 2     | 1     | 9      | 6       | +3    | 8     | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 9th   | Tottenham    | 5     | 2       | 2     | 1     | 6      | 5       | +1    | 8     | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 10th  | Leicester      | 5     | 1       | 2     | 2     | 8     | 6        | +2    | 5     | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 11th  | Fulham         | 5     | 1       | 2     | 2     | 5     | 6        | -1    | 5     | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 12th  | Watford        | 5     | 1       | 2     | 2     | 5     | 7        | -2    | 5     | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 13th  | West  Brom   | 5     | 1       | 2     | 2     | 8     | 11       | -3    | 5     | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 14th  | Reading        | 5     | 1       | 2     | 2     | 7     | 11       | -4    | 5     | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 15th  | Portsmouth    | 5     | 1      | 1     | 3     | 6     | 7         | -1    | 4     | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 16th  | West Ham     | 5     | 1      | 1     | 3     | 4     | 7         | -3    | 4     | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 17th  | Blackburn      | 5     | 1      | 1     | 3     | 5     | 10       | -5    | 4     | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 18th  | Everton        | 5     | 1      | 0     | 4     | 8     | 11        | -3    | 3     | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 19th  | Bolton          | 5     | 0      | 3     | 2     | 3     | 6          | -3    | 3     | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| 20th  | Man  City     | 5     | 0       | 3     | 2     | 3     | 8         | -5    | 3     | [/size][/font]
 [font=Verdana][size=2]| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------|[/size][/font]

[Terk]

The buzz after the Blackburn win was incredible. This was what I had come back to football for, I missed the elation that only it can provide on a day when everything has gone your way. We had only four days before we had to face Reading but the boys were given Sunday and Monday off, letting them enjoy what it felt like to be the toast of the town, before we came back in on Tuesday to prepare for the visit of Coppell’s men.

Wednesday morning had been spent tying up the loose ends on the deal to bring in Nigel Quashie; completing a medical, getting him to put pen to paper on the deal and lodging all the necessary papers with the F.A. The former West Ham midfielder penned a two year deal, bringing plenty of experience to the squad, but the reaction of the fans hadn’t been what I’d hoped for. Somehow they’d got it into their heads that he was a bit of a trouble-maker and thought he could upset the balance of the squad. I was just happy to have a bit more competition in the middle of the park.

[Terk]

Leicester vs. Reading, Walkers Stadium

Premier League, Wednesday 3rd October 2007

There was only one change made to the starting line-up that had done so well against Blackburn; with Richard Stearman still out, Hosain Kaebi came in at right back for Alan Maybury, the Irishman not quite up to playing to games so close to each other just yet. Young defender Joe Mattock had made his league debut at Ewood Park as a second half substitute abd he kept his place on the bench for Reading’s visit, I had wanted to keep the side as close as possible to those who had won us our first game.

Reading’s threat came largely on two fronts, from on-loan Arsenal midfielder Fran Merida and ageing Costa Rican striker Rolando Fonseca. Merida had been secured on a year-long loan from the Emirates Stadium and had impressed in the early games whilst the thirty-three year old Fonseca had netted five goals in his first five games of the season, hardly a bad return in a side that had only scored seven altogether in those games.

With that in mind, Billy Jones was told not to let even daylight pass between himself and Fonseca all day, and for his performance in keeping the striker quiet all day I’d have been tempted to give our new centre back the man of the match award. That honour, however, went once again to Mauro Zárate, and it might have been churlish to argue given that he backed up his hat-trick against Blackburn with another strike against The Royals, and he could have had more.

There was little of note that happened in the opening ten minutes of the game, save for Ivar Ingimarsson getting himself booked for a crude challenge on Jordan Stewart I honestly can’t recall anything that happened. It was pretty much out of the blue then that we took the lead in the fourteenth minute, but there was no surprise as to the scorer of the goal. Mauro seemed to be working up a worthwhile partnership with Malcolm Christie, and it was the former Middlesbrough man who played him in this time, an excellent pass in behind Ingimarsson and Sonko putting Zárate one-on-one with Marcus Hahnemann, and there was only one winner in that battle.

We thought we had doubled our lead just two minutes later; Anthony Le Tallec got free on the right and crossed for Christie to head home but the linesman’s flag cut the celebrations short. We didn’t allow the killjoy to reign for long though, from Hahnemann’s free-kick, Sergio Hellings won the ball back and played it long to Christie. The striker too long about things and invited a tackle from Nicky Shorey, but as the ball spun loose, twenty yards from goal, Le Tallec absolutely belted a shot goalwards, catching Hahnemann asleep and there was nothing the officials could do to deny us this time.

The game should have been done and dusted – to be fair it probably was – on twenty-five minutes when Ingimarsson was shown his second yellow card and we were awarded a penalty. The clumsy defender had shoved Zárate as Le Tallec floated over a corner and there was no hesitation in the referee’s whistle, nor in his brandishing of his red card. All that remained was for Mauro to stick the penalty away, but for once his talent deserted him and his effort arrowed wide of the post.

With Fran Merida hobbling off injured just four minutes later, it was hard to see how Reading were going to come back at us, and we coasted through to the half time break without so much as the slightest threat on our goal. They appeared after the break with quite a shake-up in their shape; they were clearly going to throw everything they had at us as they pressed forward in a 4-2-3 formation.

With just Emerse Faé sitting in protection of their back four, they were intent on getting the ball upfield as quickly and often as they could, and they caused us far more problems than ever they had with eleven men on the field. Carson was forced into a particularly smart save just before the hour when Glen Little played a cute ball to set up Dave Kitson and the ‘Ginger Ninja’ snapped off a quick shot, Scott having to be alert to get his fingers to the ball and push it round the post.

We began to adjust better to their threats as time passed, although it could equally have been argued that they were simply tiring from doing so much whilst a man short. In the final twenty minutes they didn’t cause any overt panic in and amongst our backline, and once they had finally run out of legs, we pounced to add to our lead.

Joe Mattock had come on in the sixty-fifth minute in place of Armand Traoré, and when Jordan Stewart won a corner, it was the young left back who grabbed the ball. Joe had developed a bit of a reputation with the reserves for his dead ball delivery, and his first chance in this level showed just why, his inswinging corner weighted to perfection for Billy Jones to rise and head home. Coming on the back of the Blackburn win, it had been another fantastic performance. Before the trip to Ewood Park, I was looking forward to the international break, but after this, it seemed like it had hit at exactly the wrong moment.

Leicester 3 – 0 Reading

(Zárate 14, m/pen 25; Le Tallec 17; Jones 82)

Man of the Match: Mauro Zárate (9)

[Terk]

Compared to the bigger clubs in the division, we had very few players tied up with international duty over the break, so the theory was that we’d have plenty of time to work on what we were doing well and come out firing when we faced Watford. We gave the lads two days off after the Reading win, and I took a little three-day break back in Edinburgh with Eileen.

Had I known that she planned to spend the trip introducing me to her parents, I don’t think I’d have bothered going in the first place. They lived on the south side of the city, a little avenue off Minto Street, heavily wooded and therefore cut-off from the world around it, but still strangely incongruous given its wider surroundings of student flats and Bed & Breakfasts.

Nevertheless, the grand, Georgian house that we pulled up outside of spoke of a serious amount of cash sloshing about in the family coffers, and the upper class manners of her parents did nothing to dispel that impression. I don’t think they thought much of me, in fact they couldn’t have looked down their noses more had I been a dog ******** on their doorstep. As soon as mention was made of my career in football, my fate was sealed with them, and no matter how eruditely I spoke on intellectual subjects, I was forever more a thug in their eyes.

[Terk]

The return to training the following week was a mixed bag; whilst Levi Porter and Kenny Pavey returned to full contact sessions and began to pick up their fitness once more, Igor Biscan suffered some damage to his foot and Malcolm Christie tried to bench press too much in the gym and strained his chest quite badly. Both would certainly miss the Watford match, and likely the visit of Newcastle ten days after that, then I would be faced with the decision of whether to throw them straight back into a team that was heading for Anfield.

We worked long and hard on tactics specifically for the Watford match. They were on a decent little run of three games unbeaten and sat just a place below us in the league, despite that, however, and the fact that the game was at Vicarage Road, I was convinced that they would sit deep and try to hit us on the counter. Anything we were going to get from the game would count on us being able to break down the most stubborn of defensive set-ups.

[Terk]

Watford vs. Leicester, Vicarage Road

Premier League, Wednesday 17th October 2007

With Malcolm and Igor missing from the side that had beaten Reading so convincingly, I was already a little bit concerned about how the game would pan out for us. Nigel Quashie came into the centre of midfield to partner Craig Gardner whilst James Beattie made his first start for the club alongside Mauro Zárate.

I’d made clear to the players the importance of a quick start, and they seemed to have taken my words to heart. Within a minute we’d had a shot at goal, although James’ effort was dragged wide of the target, and within three we had been denied an opening goal only by a truly world class save. Jordan Stewart had got clear down the left and floated a cross into the box, Zárate controlled it on his chest and fired goalwards but Michel Vorm instinctively stuck out a hand and just managed to deflect it off target.

Unfortunately that wasn’t a quick enough start, and with five minutes on the clock we were behind. As we continued to push forward, trying to make the most of our early pressure, Jay DeMerit fired a long, long ball into our half, where only Jobi McAnuff was waiting. McAnuff had both Traoré and Kisnorbo to beat, but he did so easily, cutting in from the right and bearing down on goal. He waited for Carson to commit himself, and as soon as he had, McAnuff lifted the ball over him and into the net for a perfect counter-attack goal.

As predicted, we were the only side even remotely interested in playing football, and in the twenty-eighth minute we picked apart their defence, some lovely one-touch stuff sending Zárate through on goal, but the Argentinean’s curling effort was again magnificently tipped wide by Vorm. We were desperately pressing for the equaliser, but just two minutes later, McAnuff turned provider, playing a long ball over the top of our defence for Tommy Smith to run onto, and the striker finished calmly past Carson to double their lead.

Just before the break we took one final roll of the dice, trying to play them at a bit of their own game. Hosain Kaebi launched a long ball into the Watford penalty area, James Beattie won the header, knocking the ball down into Craig Gardner’s path and the midfielder rifled home his shot, giving us at least a glimmer of hope for the second half.

It was only a glimmer, however, as Watford defended even deeper for the second forty-five minutes, and no matter what we tried we could not find an equaliser. We simply had no facility to cope with the opposition going into an ultra defensive mode, and a long, tortuous match was finally brought to a close with the home side still hanging onto their single goal lead.

Watford 2 – 1 Leicester

(McAnuff 5; Smith 30)

(Gardner 42)

Man of the Match: Michel Vorm (8)

[Terk]

Leicester vs. Newcastle, Walkers Stadium

Premier League, Saturday 27th October 2007

The ten days following our defeat at Vicarage Road had been tough. I’d forced myself to watch the game through five or six times, looking for ways in which we could have drawn Watford out and then found space in behind their defence. It began to slowly dawn on me that we had forced the chances, and it was down only to goalkeeping brilliance that we came away with nothing. Just before each of their strikes, Michel Vorm had pulled out stops of which the best goalkeepers in the world would have been proud, whereas both their efforts were ones that perhaps Scott Carson could have done better with.

Nevertheless, I was sure that defensive solidity was not something we’d have to worry about against Newcastle, although the Tyneside club were the only unbeaten team left in the league. They were sitting third in the table, much to most people’s surprise, and the Geordie faithful were beginning to hope beyond hope, especially after the performance in their previous outing, which had seen them thump six goals past a hapless West Brom side.

We made only one change to the side that fell against Watford, Levi Porter taking a starting berth on the left wing in place of Jordan Stewart, and that meant we were asking a lot of our central midfield – Gardner and Quashie – against the talented and tenacious pairing of Joey Barton and Emre.

If I was expecting a display of awe-inspiring attacking football in the mould of the Kevin Keegan days, I was mistaken. Newcastle, for the most part, didn’t look anything special; certainly we’d played better teams already this season. One thing they did have going for them, however, was a ruthless efficiency. They fashioned themselves four good chances over the course of the ninety minutes and they scored three goals, and with that kind of ratio it was easy to see why they were sitting in the upper reaches of the table.

As early as the seventh minute they were ahead, a lovely passing move ending when Michael Owen took one touch to move the ball out of his feet and then a second to power his shot past Carson. We were full of effort and endeavour, and we carved out a few decent openings of our own, though none ended in anything which unduly tested Shay Given, and the half time scoreline of 0-1 seemed about fair on the basis of play.

We were encouraged that we could, if the second half played out in a similar fashion, strike back and nick a point from the game, but any hope of that was dashed in the first fifteen minutes after the restart, when Alan Smith decided to turn on his talent. The former Leeds and Man Utd man has always been something of an enigma, and he showed just why so much was thought of him at an early age when he turned on a sixpence inside our penalty area, collecting Al-Harthi’s cross and firing low past Carson.

Less than sixty seconds later, before either ourselves or the fans had been given time to digest the fact that we were two down, Smith turned provider, taking the ball on the right wing and floating a cross to the back post where Joey Barton connected with a diving header that put the result well beyond doubt. We sent on a few subs to try and freshen things up, maybe pull back a goal or two and get some respectability from the fixture, but Newcastle just passed the ball around with ease and coasted their way to a comfortable three points.

Leicester 0 – 3 Newcastle

(Owen 7; Smith 56; Barton 57)

Man of the Match: Alan Smith (9)

[weeeman27bob]

This is good stuff!

Have a soft spot for leicester as they are the only team I've ever seen live.

This is great though.

[milanfan_apoorv]

Big wins followed by big defeat, highly unpredictable...

I'm enjoying the gratuitous swearing though

[Wegason]

This is good stuff!

Have a soft spot for leicester as they are the only team I've ever seen live.

This is great though.

The cannot have been playing on their own

[weeeman27bob]

I had to read that about four times before I realised you meant they instead of the.

I can't remember who they were playing though.

[milanfan_apoorv]

We need more gratuitous swearing!!

Where is Terkleton?!

[Terk]

He's here! \o/

[Terk]

The start of November was a busy time. A morning meeting with Milan, where he reported from the board meeting that everyone was delighted with the progress that the club was making, and that month by month we were still turning a profit, set things off on the right foot, but they soon went south from there.

I felt like releasing a volley of gratuitous expletives when I learned that Nigel Quashie would miss some two to three months with a slipped disc whilst Sergio Hellings landed awkwardly and would have to sit out a few weeks with a sprained wrist.

There was slightly better news on the injury front when Patrick Kisnorbo reported for a full session, but he got seriously ****ed off when I withdrew him from the Australian squad for their friendlies against Spain and Chile. I didn't want him flying halfway round the world when he'd just returned from injury, but Patrick felt I was jeopardising his future; footballers never were the brightest bunch.

[Terk]

Liverpool vs. Leicester, Anfield

Premier League, Sunday 4th November 2007

In the build up to our trip to Anfield, Rafa Benítez had been voicing his fear of the threat that Matty Fryatt could pose to his defence. Maybe it was a bit of a trick, trying to get me to play Matty ahead of other, better forwards, thereby giving his defenders an easier day, but I wasn’t having any of it. Matty would, as he had become accustomed to, sit amongst the substitutes.

Liverpool were sitting third at the start of play, but they knew that a win would send them back to the top of the table, and the Anfield crowd certainly seemed confident that that win would come. With Xabi Alonso and Ibon Gutiérrez patrolling the centre of the park, they would certainly have control there, but I was hopeful that Voronin and Crouch would not prove the most prolific of strike forces.

I knew that we were going to struggle if we tried to play football against a side like Liverpool, and so much as it went against my principles, I asked the guys to hold to solid banks of four, not let any space between the midfield and defence in which Liverpool’s creative players could work, and get the ball up to James and Mauro as quickly as they could. I hated asking them to play like that, but at times it is simply a case of the ends justifying the means.

For the first half hour it worked a treat. Liverpool were notorious for struggling to break down sides who sat deep against them, and we were restricting them to long shots, only one of which forced Darren Ward into a save. We even had the temerity to take the lead with twenty minutes gone, scoring a goal of which an 80s Watford or 90s Wimbledon side would have been proud.

Steven Gerrard had tried to clip a cross from the right wing into the back post where Yossi Benayoun was waiting, but it drifted out of play for a goal kick. Ward was under strict instructions to get the ball as far forward as possible from his restarts, and he performed admirably in doing so. Levi Porter went up for the ball with Jamie Carragher and just got his forehead to it, Zárate running into the space that the Liverpool centre back had vacated, controlling the ball well before drilling his shot past Pepe Reina.

The goal silenced the crowd save for one small corner of the Anfield Road end, but it was always too good to last. By half time we had fallen asleep twice on defensive duties and in doing so had handed the lead on a plate to Liverpool. A misplaced pass from Craig Gardner gave Alonso the time and space to find Voronin free in the penalty area, and the less celebrated of Ukraine’s strikers found the bottom corner of the net. Just six minutes later, a silly foul by Billy Jones on Gerrard gave the Liverpool captain the platform, and he duly delivered, curling the free kick past a static Ward.

I asked for more of the same in the second half, if we opened up when we were behind then we faced the prospect of being on the end of a hiding, and it very nearly paid dividends. To be honest, we probably deserved a point, and certainly the media were effusive in their praise afterwards, but when the linesman’s flag denied James Beattie what looked like a perfectly good goal on the hour, none of the mattered. Of course anything you get against sides like Liverpool is a bonus, but if it proved to be a vital point that we had missed out on come the end of the season, that would be neither that nor the praise that came our way would be consolation at all.

Liverpool 2 – 1 Leicester

(Voronin 36, Gerrard 42)

(Zárate 20)

Man of the Match: Xabi Alonso (8)

[Terk]

Note: For anyone even interested in the slightest, the following posts take 'Life and Times' onto page 249 of the Word document I have it in, and up to 84,030 words (excluding tables, of course).

[Terk]

“The keys are on the bar. Hope you can make more a success out of it than I could.” Michael creaked open the doors and stepped inside, a musty smell already growing despite the place only being open a couple of months. He flicked on the lights, stood and looked around what was now his, what would occupy him in his post-football days.

It had the vast majority of his savings, nearly a quarter of a million pounds, to buy the pub; despite the places failings under its previous owner, it was still prime Edinburgh real estate and that sort of thing did not come cheap. It was worth every penny though, and it felt like a new start, a chance to get his feet back on the ground and build himself a new life away from the trials and tribulations through which football had taken him.

[Terk]

“You’re joking? You’ve got to be ****ing joking?”

“I wish.”

“He’s in the air now?”

“Left about three hours ago.”

“I’m gonna ****ing throttle him.” Having pulled Patrick Kisnorbo from the Australia squad to protect him after his injury lay-off, I was pretty well furious to find out that he had then been called up as a late injury replacement for Shane Cansdell-Sheriff. Even more so given that I only found out after the sneaky bastard had got on the plane and there was bugger all I could do about it.

I considered at least benching him for a few games, perhaps letting my principles get in the way of our chances for survival, but I figured I’d pretty well burned any principles I had left in the way I’d sent the players out against Liverpool. Anything now would seem to be nothing more than cutting my nose off to spite my face, and so as long as he came back free from any further injury set backs, I knew I’d end up including him in the line-up for the Spurs match.

[Terk]

Leicester vs. Tottenham, Walkers Stadium

Premier League, Saturday 24th November 2007

Patrick did indeed return from his Australian jaunt without any further harm, though I did feel like kicking him square in the plums when he turned up back at training with a stupid grin on his face. I resisted though, and he was fit to take his place alongside Billy Jones in the centre of our defence, replacing Richard Stearman who dropped to the bench.

Spurs were having a typically mid-table season for them; their fans had surely by now become used to big expectations falling well away by Christmas and having to make do with yet another finish in obscurity. This time Martin Jol had them sitting 8th in the table and there were still a few hardy souls hoping that they could make a charge further forward, but I felt they were more likely to slip backwards than anything else. Spurs were perhaps the biggest underachievers in English football, and I for one didn’t see that changing.

Of course, that didn’t change the fact that they still had some wonderfully talented players in their squad. With Aaron Lennon and Andres Guardado playing on the flanks, getting up in support of lone striker Jermain Defoe, they were clearly going to be a potent attacking threat. I just had to hope that, as if the case more often than not, they didn’t perform to their potential.

We were pretty much at full strength, Igor Biscan replaced Seth Johnson in the centre of the park alongside Craig Gardner, and we had managed to get both Beattie and Zárate on the field together again. For much of the match, the first half in particularl, it looked like it would be another of those days for the travelling Spurs contingent as we pulled their defence limb from limb, and they had to thank the ample frame of Paul Robinson for somehow still being level when the referee blew for half time.

God knows we had tried to beat the pudgy ‘keeper, we had thrown everything we had at him, but nothing had so far worked. No one wanted to give him a good kicking more than Mauro, the diminutive Argentinean had seen no less than four good chances thwarted by Robinson, the best a curling shot which seemed destined for the top corner until Robbo’s fingertips flicked it over the bar and out for a corner.

Perhaps they had become a bit complacent over the half time break, maybve they thought that, having kept us out so effectively that our heads would drop and they could come out and steal the points for themselves, but whatever it was, the Spurs players weren’t quite as sharp in the first few minutes of the second half. We made the most of that, finally finding the goal that had proved so elusive, Biscan sliding a pass in between centre backs King and Dawson, and Zárate pinged his shot across Robinson and in off the inside of the far post.

Unfortunately, however, it seemed that our goal did nothing but wake up their talent, though perhaps that had sopmething to do with them sending Robbie Keane and Dimitar Berbatov on from the bench for Defoe and Lennon and switching to a 4-4-2. They made much better use of the ball with Jenas on the right, and just five minutes after we had taken the lead, Jenas floated over a cross which, under pressure from Keane, Billy Jones headed past Scott Carson, handing them the equaliser.

We still pressed, looking for the three points that we felt we deserved, and throughout the game we had reverted back to the style of passing football I much preferred. But it was to be to no avail. The further we pushed on in search of a winner, the more exposed we were at the back, and it seemed crushingly inevitable that Spurs would take advantage of the space. They did so through the criminally laid back Berbatov, the Bulgarian nudging a pass out from under his feet and then lashing a shot into the top corner from twenty-five yards. The crowd was stunned, silenced, and felt like they were on the verge of tears such was the cruelty of Berba’s winner, but there was nothing we could do about it and we had to trudge off the field in the knowledge that we had nothing to show for a very good performance.

Leicester 1 – 2 Tottenham

(Zárate 50)

(Jones (OG) 55, Berbatov 85)

Man of the Match: Paul Robinson (9)