Kublai conquers the world (again...sort of)

[Baby BooBoo]

Two consecutive games of the Italian Cup came next (assuming we won the first). Cagliari were out first opponents, and they were coming to Turin, so I assumed a relatively easy passage there. In the end it was a a narrow 1-0 victory with Feijao slamming home the winner from the left wing position after nice build up play by Yahi. Roma were out next opponents, and we had to go to Rome, so this should have been more difficult, on paper. As it was, they gave away a penalty in the 8th minute which Semenyuk put away, and from then onwards, were always chasing the game. We sat back and tried to hit on the break. On 47 minutes, Scholten tapped in off a deep corner from Feijao and the game was effectively over. It ended that way, and we were through to the semi-finals, where we faced Livorno, struggling in the nether reaches of Serie A and presumably easy beats.

I had hardly any time to ponder such things before our next match. The tough home game against Fiorentina. Apart from Juve, they were our Serie A nemesis, having beaten us more times than I cared to remember. They had been pursuing us all season, but were starting to fade a little, giving us a 9 point lead from their position in 2nd. So this was a huge game for both teams. Seidan had gotten himself injured training so Ellisalde came back into the starting line up. Hardly a great time to lose my best forward. I opted for Ferrandiz over Hipp, wary of their tall central striker, 8 mil Colombian striker Rodrigues. We had the edge on them over possession, but it was still a tight game overall, with only a paltry 6 shots on target for both teams. In the end it ended 0-0, a fair refection of the efforts from both defenses. I wasn't upset as we maintained our lead over Fiorentina, but it woudl have bene noce to beat them, for once.

[Baby BooBoo]

Just when I thought that the threat from the match fixers was over, Alan brought me footage of the stands at the back of the director's seats after the Fioro game.

'There's that Singh character again,' I muttered.

'What's he doing there, do you imagine ? Someone must have invited him...'

I cradled my face in my hands. 'Great, now we get the higher ups at the club assisting a known match fixer !'

'Maybe he's just a fan ?'

I raised my eyebrows. 'Didn't Pepe say he's from Singapore ? What - are we such a big name that fans overseas know about us now ?'

'Hey, the finance people tell me that we're selling replica shirts in South-East Asia.'

'Oh really - how many ?'

'Er, a couple hundred. Purple-brown isn't considered a very 'feng shui' colour....'

I sighed loudly. 'I'm still suspicious of this guy. I don't like it that he's here. Let's find out who invited him, and find out more about why he's here ....'

'Ok, I'll do some detective work. Oh, by the way, the finance guys were saying something about the replica shorts, while we're on that topic. They suggested signing a big name player to boost the sales.'

'You know that's not my style, Alan. I like them young, so they end up being homegrown.'

'Er, don't say that out loud in public, boss. People might construe it the wrong way. In a different context, and that...'

I scratched my head. Whatever did he mean ?

[Baby BooBoo]

Down to Rome for Lazio, and another 3 days break only. The boys were exhausted. Jardim had been injured in the last game, and when I found out it was for 3 months (torn hamstring) all the colour left my face. de la Mata had himself been out for a month after an under-19s game and was a week away from returning to training, let alone a match. That left 18 year old Dante Vitale, who was hugely rated by the youth team, but only just acceptable for the seniors at this stage of his development. We just had to plough on, but coupled with the loss of Seidan, things were looking serious on the injury front.

Torino vs Lazio 1-0 (away). Another 'game for the purists'. If I wa swatching this on tv I would have changed over to an Italian soap opera instead; there would have been more drama in an ad break than in this game. In the end it took a moment of brilliance from Ellisalde at 76 minutes to win us the game - he picked up an innocuous-looking ball from Feijao deep in the extreme left corner of the box and decided to lash it past the keeper's near post. Mind you, he'd done bugger all for the match till then, so he just about repaid my faith in him.

Torino vs Sampdoria 2-0 (home). Sampdoria were completely outclassed. But their keeper didn't help, having an unlucky case of butterfingers in the first half that resulted in 2 goals; the first, to Feijao, pouncing on a rebound from a partialy blocked shot from Ellisalde, and the second, allowing Meeuws a second chance after a thwarted block from Semenyuk's attempt. We were two goals to the good after only 16 minutes, and that was how it stayed.

[Baby BooBoo]

The first of the Italian Cup semi-final legs, away to Livorno, who were, to put it mildly, not in form. I decided I would rest some players who had played a lot lately. Before I could effect any of that, however, bloody Vitale gets himself injured for a week in training to leave me with the grand total of no leftbacks in the entire club. I was unwilling to summon back 17 year old Perez from loan just to play twice for the first team, so hastily cobbled together a deal for 27 year old Lluis Banos from Stade Rennais. He was barely as good as Vitale but I didn't see him playing much anyway. I was so confident I gave Lavezzi and Zahi starts for the first time in the season.

We were tremendous in Livorno, fully living up to our 'favourites' tag. Ellisalde got us going with a goal on 4o minutes, running onto a long ball from defense. Livorno did nab the equaliser before the break, but I was confident we woudlpush on after, and told the biys I expected them to. They did so emphatically, and Feijao snuck in unmarked on the left flank on 49 minutes to put us back in front. The exhausted Ellisalde was substituted after 70 minutes and Seidan decided to add to their misery by just outjumping the keeper for a lobbed cross and seeing the ball dribble in slow mo into the unguarded goal.

There was only one game between the return match at Olimpico - Udinese welcoming us to Udine to play out a dreary 0-0 draw.For some reason we just decided to play as if we wanted to eke out a draw, and that was hw it played out.

The return match for Livorno in the 2nd leg left them worse off again. This time their approach was brutal, and they walked off with 6 yellow cards by the end of it, and, I felt, deserved to cop more. Nonetheless, their approach flopped spectacularly. Ellisalde scored the first on 13 minutes, a nice lifted cross from Hanine met at the far left hand post with his head (a change for the lad, not known for his heading prowess around the club) to make it 1-0. Ferrandiz showed everyone he too could head when he met a corner from Feijao 9 minutes later to make it 2-0. When Hanine (playing to allow Meeuws to recover from the last run of games) slotted home a goal in the 35th minute from nice build up play by 17 year old Antoni, making his debut as striker, we were 3 goals to the good and cruising. We didn't add any more after that, but Livorno's 'yellow fever' had a role to play in that, I thought. Nonetheless, I felt good, and norale was sky high 5 days before the firs leg of the Champions Cup round of 16 match against Valencia in Spain.

[Baby BooBoo]

Paola had requested a meeting with me and came in incensed.

'That...that...that man-stealing German whore has to go !' she roared.

Ah, the sweet smell of a well-thought out plan succeeding. It was all fermenting, just like kumiss really. Funny how ignoring yak's milk could be a metaphor for so many things in life.

I sat back and raised both hands in the air. 'What is going on ?'

She paced the room, periodically stopping only to stab a well-manicured finger in my direction. 'Don't you dare pretend that you don't know ! That German physio of yours is casting her evil spell over my man !'

'She's the physio, what do you think she gets up to ?'

'Rubbing her hands all over his body after every match. Telling him he's tense or , or....just talking to him in that honeyed voice ! Arggh ! Its driving me mad..'

I grinned, which only seemed to make her angrier. 'Did you skip the lecture on pathological jealousy at university ?'

'She needs to go, Kublai. Things were going so well until she arrived !'

I shrugged, all innocence personified, a difficult task for someone who was pretending to look like a Mongol conqueror. 'What can I do, she hasn't done anything wrong. I can;t sack her because the Chairman's daughter is jealous of her. She's a perfectly capable physio, by all accounts.'

'If she stays on the only thing she'll be capable of massaging is the stumps where her hands used to be !'

'What do you mean ?'

'Oh,' she said, suddenly all coy, and by implication, dangerous,' don't you know ? The mafia have started moving up north and I have a, shall we say, black sheep of a cousin who is er, managing their affairs up here. The rest of the family shun him, but he and I are childhood friends. Almost my big brother, you know.....'

I did a face plant. So much for good plans. Now the bloody mafia were going to get involved....

'In fact, I may go and tell her right now... See you, boss.'

She strolled off, suddenly emboldened.

Great idea, Alan.

[Baby BooBoo]

I don't want to talk about this:

Valencia vs Torino (first leg Round of 16 Champions Cup): 3-0

They scored off 3 set pieces, 2 in the first half.

We mustered 3 shots on goal all game.

Tie effectively over.

F%^k.

[Baby BooBoo]

We had 6 days back in Italy to stew over the performance and then had to meet AC Milan in Milan. Morale had collapsed. After the dressing down in Valencia after the game, I handed over the reins at training to Alan Ass Man and avoided seeing anyone for a few days. There seemed little point. I was so disappointed in the result that I had half a thought of quitting - but it did seem irrational. This was our first season in the Champions Cup and we had gotten to the knock out stages - far better than I would have envisaged. So we just had to aim for better next season - and I knew we wousd be stronger given the quality of youngsters coming through.

The Milan game was a tight affair and we came out of it as well as I could have hoped. We scored early - Meeuws fluking a corner in the 10th minute that swung in on the breeze and beat everyone who was rushing to meet it at the near post. I expected Milan to hit back, and they did so within 14 minutes, but we held the line after that. 1-1 was a fair scoreline and started to repair some of the doubts that had crept into my mind.

Alan patted me on the back after the match and said, 'Hey, cheer up, boss. That Valencia result was only the second match we lost this season so far, you know that ?'

It made me stop. He was right. If he'd told me in pre-season that in April we'd only have lost 2 matches I would have been jumping for joy.

'Fine, I'll stop moping around. Beers are on you though, I haven't seen any football good enough to celebrate with kumiss in the last week.'

He didn't appear upset at that for some reason.

[Baby BooBoo]

The mood had lifted a little, but I still stared at the league table nervously. 9 points in front of Fioro and Inter, though it seemed Inter were coming along with a bang. I could see one light at the end of the tunnel - we faced weak opponents once again at the end of the season - our last three games.

In any event, we had Catania away, and the front four played magnificently. It was actually a relatively even match, except that we finished lethally. Semenyuk's free kick at 49 minutes gave us the lead finally. Then Meeuws found a little space in the box after some very neat one-two short passing in the box with Seidan. Four minutes after that, on 73 minutes, Feijao also found a little space at the edge of the box and sent home a longer range effort past the keeper. Catania got a goal back in the 87th minute but the game was well and truly up by that stage.

Avellino, who were holding their own in the middle of the table, as had been the case of for the last 3 seasons, were not expected to provide much challenge in Olimpico, and that was the way that the match proceeded. Feijao had a storming match, helping us 'boss the midfield'. On 10 minutes he pinched the ball off the Avellino rightback and streaked away to be one-on-one with the keeper down the left; a neatly placed shot into the far corner of the goal got us on our feet in the dug out. On 44 minutes, after a strong of close calls, Semenyuk forced a aplmed save off the keeper from a long range effort outside the box - the rebound lobbed up helplessly in the air within the six yard box - and our Brazilian winger just nodded it home with the keeper barely back on his feet after the initial save. Leroy's long range effort on 50 minutes, after the break, sealed his first appearance in the first team for nearly 6 months, but he showed that he provided more than back-up despite his age. Once again the oppo got a consolation goal at the end, essentially saving me the clean sheet bonus I would have had to pay the goalie and the defenders. OK, fine, whatever.

4 days later Empoli snatched a frustratingly close 1-1 draw at Carlo Castellani. Semenyuk got us off to a flyer at 3 minutes - a neat bit of dribbling from Feijao beat 2 defenders in the six yard box and his short pass found enough space for Semenyuk to side step his marker and slot the ball home. For once, we didn't have the run of the match against lowly ranked opponents, to Empoli's credit. They may have been flirting with relegation but found an equaliser 12 minutes after halftime to tie it. Neither team seemed capable of breaking the deadlock and that was how it ended. Despite the draw, we were still top the table, but now only 8 points to the good. This was starting to look embarrassingly good for us. Surely we couldn't pull this off, just 3 years after I had taken over ?

[Baby BooBoo]

Alan had set up the meeting with this chap Singh. Of course, it all had to be hush-hush. We hardly needed the publicity of a manager meeting a very dodgy match-fixing type in a on-public arena. I got dressed in a long grey coat and huge grey farming hat. I had even gone to the trouble of dusting my beard with talcum powder and adopting a limp. I though I looked like one of those old-fashioned sages of old. Alan informed me that I looked like a hobo just about to inspect the contents of the nearest bin for his lunch. Thanks for that, Ass Man.

We met in a discrete cafe in the industrial suburbs of Turin. I must say I admired that much about the chap, he seemed very aware of not drawing attention to himself, and greeted me quietly, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

'Thanks for meeting me, and nice to finally meet you, by the way. Your exploits here in Italy haven't gone unnoticed in south east Asia.' He sounded very confident of himself.

'Good, good..... and if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing here in Turin ?'

He seemed a little taken aback by my directness. 'Why,' he said, leaning back and absentmindedly brushing his $3000 Italian suit,'I'm just another businessman looking for opportunities.'

'Opportunities people like your buddy Cronje throw up ?'

He nodded. 'Well, Hansie and I have.... an understanding about how things should be played out when he was in charge of South Africa, a....mutually beneficial understanding. Perhaps you and I could develop something similar ?'

I hid my emotions well. Asking me to throw games for money when I had invested so much emotionally into the club ? 'Tell me more...' I said, stalling for time. What could I say to him ? And more importantly, how to get rid of this problem ?

He started prattling on about short odds and long odds and trifectas and quinellas and lost me somewhere about 5 words into his exposition. I thought gambling was a simple business. Ultimately about losing money, but simple. How wrong I was....

'How do you think we could, er, make this connection work, Kublai ?'

That sent a shiver up my spine. I watched as this slimy piece of s&^t made no attempts to hide his leering gaze drifting to a passing woman's backside, encased in a tight black skirt.

Then it struck me. Inspiration.

'Mr Singh, let's get this clear. I am not saying I am interested in doing this. I am not saying this could work. Maybe it will. But for your 'iintrest' to go any further, you will have to get the Chairman onside. In order to do that, you'll need an introduction. Now, he has a much loved daughter - an absolutely stunning woman called Paola. I could tee up a meeting with her...'

'Oh, Seidan's girlfriend ?"

'No, no, old news. They broke up a while ago. She's very single.... as far as I know. Now.................'

[Baby BooBoo]

So Valencia came to Olimpico 3-0 up. What do you expect us to have done. Yaar, mon, attack. With true Mongol spirit. But even Mongol spirit can only go so far. We kept up the pressure on their goal and had 15 shots. Sadly only 3 on target. We scored one. They didn't have to, and didn't bother. Only one shot on goal, and that not even on target, told the story. But they were 3 goals to the good, and they went through.

The mood had sunk again, even though we remained top of the league. So I had a brain stroke. Let's do what women all over the world do when they're low. Retail therapy. I had transfer money burning a hole in my pocket and it was time to spend it ! Let's go shopping....

I flung out transfer offers like an unattractive man on an internet dating site. 2 stuck. Gorko Padilla was a 16 year old rightback who could play at leftback, and was already looking as good as a 18 or 19 year old in the role. My best scouts rated him potentially a world class player. I had to shell out 11 mil for him, who no one else had ever allowed me to buy a potentially world class player at this age. He was always going to be more attacking than Khuzwalo, so Khuz would be developed in keeping with a central defender, which he was comfortable in anyway. My other signing was Juan Carlos Hernandez, a 16 year old attacking midfielder who was a better value bet at 2.9 mil, he had a little less potential, but I liked the look of him. So almost 15 mil Euro spent, and give me the loving, chaps.....except there was only a boost when they joined the club, and this was a non-transfer period. Oh well. Made me feel better anyway....

[Baby BooBoo]

6 games in Serie A, and then a first momentous Italian Cup Final for me;

Torino v Parma (home) - 1-1. We give away a goal to Parma's Peruvian international striker Luis Portal, but Seidan equalises when a defender mistimes a header at left wing, and he pounces on the ball just outside the box to go one-on-one with the keeper. We spend the next 45 minutes besieging the buggers but cannot find a winner.

Torino v Napoli (away) 2-0. Solid away win, even though Napoli have most of the possession. We are dangerous on the counterattack. Semenyuk's longe range effort on 4 minutes is only palmed by the keeper directly into Meeuw's feet to make it 1-0. We make certain of it on 81 minutes when a cleared free kick by Napoli falls at Ellisalde's feet on the halfway line; the 18 year old turns his man, and then shows him a clean pair of heels as he streaks into the box and clamly slots it pats the left hand of the oncoming keeper.

Torino v Livorno (home) 3-0. Complete domination. Semenyuk, Meeuws (for his 10th goal, and the one that costs 1.1 million for the '10 goals in a season clause') and Ellisalde put us 3 goals to the good by halftime. I'm not sure why we don't manage to score after halftime but I suppose in the grand scheme of things it hardly matters.

Torino v Roma (away) 3-0. We take our goal lust with us on the road to Rome. Khuzwalo takes a return pass off his short throw-in and lobs it long to the far post where Feijao has been forgotten about, and his sweet half-volley on only 6 minutes gives us the lead. On 25 minutes an identical Khuzwalo short throw-in is triangulated with Semenyuk, and Ellisalde takes the nice through ball from Khuzwalo and slots a placed left foot shot home to make it 2. All the fight goes out of Roma, who are a shadow of their former incarnations. They let us have one more; 17 year old Spanish striker Antoni arrives late on the left hand post from a deep Meeuws cross and puts it away. It is his first ever league goal. I am surprised that he is not in the Spanish under-21s, but who am I to complain ?

Torino v Genoa (home) 3-1. Meeuws has a party. Straight from the kick off Feijao accepts the ball deep in the left wing and lobs in a cross. At the far post Meeuws arrives late, and the keeper realises that he is there only when the ball smacks into the back of the net off Meeuw's head. 14 minutes later some lovely short interpassing between my front four results in a lovely ball by Lavezzi into Meeuws, racing free of his marker and placing his shot beautifullly into the far left hand corner of the goal. 13 minutes later, Lavezzi, playing the roaming trequartista to perfection, dinks a short arm cross from right wing onto the head of Meeuws, on the edge of the box - he cleverly diverts it over the head of the next defender to leave Seidan with the opportunity to lob it over the keeper's head from 4 yards...and he does. By this stage the keeper has his head in his hands. We are unable to extract any more from him, however, depsite a sterling effort, and Meeuws walks off a very proud man after the match. I tell him how pleased I am of him, but he still declines the kumiss....

Torino v Inter (away) 0-1. A really important game for us. Inter have kept pace with our exploits and are 11 points behind us. Winning this could have buried their hopes. We are desperately unlucky not to at least draw this one, as decent chances fell to us - just not the ability to finish. We have more shots on target, but its their goal off a corner on 77 minutes which robs us of 2 points.

[Baby BooBoo]

'Boss, look at this...' Alan barged into my office and slapped a copy of one of the tabloids on my desk.

I picked it up. The headline read : MYSTERIOUS SINGAPOREAN BOOKMAKER ASSAULTED' and lower down 'SUFFERS PUNCTURED LUNG, BROKEN LEGS.' I couldn't help but smile.

'Wonder what happened. I hadn't heard about his comings and goings after you asked me to get Paola to contact him ?'

I leaned back and sighed contentedly. 'Yaar, suppose that little d&*khead won't be bothering us again...'

Alan suddenly shot me a look. 'You mean you had something to do with this ??'

I waved a hand at him. 'Alan, do I look like a man of violence. Coime on ! I am insulted that you think so poorly of me ! It had nothing to do with me. He must have offended the wrong people.'

Alan scratched his head. 'It says here that it has all the hallmarks of a mafia "visit''" - what do you suppose that means ?'

'He dabbled with the dark side, and the dark side bit back, Al, what else ?'

[Baby BooBoo]

'What happened after you met him ? That was when you got Paola to contact him for a meet ?'

'Never you mind, I just had an idea that he would, er, shall we say...over-stretch his charm.'

'Paola did this. Jeeeesusss, remind me not to cross her path, Seidan better watch out...'

I did a faceplant. 'Alan, does Paola look like the sort of girl who could pull something like this off ?'

'No.'

'So its not her ! But just imagine if said Singaporean meeting an attractive northern Italian lass decides to pull some very unwanted charm on her..... there could be consequences, especially if he doesn't get the message that she is unavailable and needs to back off. She might, for instance, have some underworld connections and emm......'

Alan couldn't speak for a minute.

'F%^k ! The Chairman did this ?'

I groaned audibly. 'Yeah, yeah, the chairman did this.....' I mumbled, at a loss for how else to spell this out without simply telling him.

'Bugger me, that's the last time I complain to him about the state of the pitch in July. Or about anything really. What a ruthless ***** !'

I couldn't bring myself to say anything more. Alan walked off a few minutes later convinced the Chairman would eviscerate him for asking the boys to change their socks after each training session and taxing the laundrywomen.

When he had left the room I laughed so loud the receptionists buzzed to ask if I was ok. I told them I was thinking so hard it had triggered off a hiccuping fit. Oh Kublai, you cunning, cunning man.......

[Baby BooBoo]

Now for Udinese in the final of the Italian Cup. The prospect of my first award since winning Tyrnavos's way to the Greek Superleague was mouth-watering. We were as well prepared as we could be. I would have preferred a better result against Inter to set up our morale, but so be it. I went in with Ellisalde in preference to Seidan up front, because of the latter's relatively good form recently. There was also no Semenyuk courtesy a knock in the previous game, which left me to field Hanine in my central attacking midfield position. I turned Paixao into a regista to try and compensate for the loss of firepower.

Olimpico in Rome had 35,000 people in it, straining to see us finally win something for the first time in over over 40 years. The tense opening half proved my fears right - we couldn't penetrate, or not to to the extent we had when Semenyuk was pulling the strings. I replaced Ellisalde with Seidan, and Lavezzi came in for Hanine, who had disappointed. We still had the lion's share of the possession, so I was hopeful we would find a way through eventually, and Lavezzi did seem to have a a touch for goal. Udinese were meanwhile intent on committing more fouls than us, and were winning on that count handily. The referee appeared to have lost his coloured cards prior to the match and let them get away with murder. On 59 minutes our high pressing back line was caught out by a swift long ball out of their defense - with Hipp, our fastest defender miles out of position, Udinese's veteran Swedish striker Westberg streaked away and snuck one past Korolev's right hand into the goal. Though we pushed, we never got enough shots on target to threaten them, and despite some threatening sorties in the next 30 minutes, we never truly threatened to score. I was mightily disappointed but determined not to thrash the boys too much - we had a Serie A title to play for three days later.

[Baby BooBoo]

We had to go to Padova, and three points would win us the league. I told the lads very clearly before the kick-off. Padova should be easy beats, but they were playing for survival in the league at home, and anything was possible. As it turns out, my fears were unfounded. We killed them. Meeuws got us underway with 2 goals before the 15th minute, one from a lovely through ball by Lavezzi and another from lovely one-touch play at the edge of the box with Seidan. Seidan himself celebrated his return to the team with a goal on 50 minutes. Khuzwalo, Skop and an own goal only added to Padova's misery. I would given an arm for a couple of those goals to have happened three days earlier, but it was still an impressive performance. 6-0 was the largest scoreline since I had taken over and an unbelievably emphatic way to celebrate the first Serie A title for Torino since 1976. The kumiss was passed around with fervour after that, and I was barely annoyed at the lads for spilling most of it on the floor of the dressing room, thanks to their ebullient spirits.

It had been a stunning season, and the fact that we had been top for most of it was only one of the most astonishing things about it. Interviewed later, I pointed out that we were only going to get better.

With three meaningless games left, I put on the 16 and 17 year olds who had patiently waited all year to get some game time;

Torino v Cagliari 2-0 (home). Ellisalde got back on the scorer's sheet, and young Antoni, starting at left wing, sealed it with another poacher's effort running up for the left.

Torino v Juventus 3-0 (home). I was nervous about letting the young lads loose but decided a win against Juve was not as important as giving some of the young lads a run. They did not disappoint, especially 18 year old Filip Soderqvist, a sneaky 500 k signing from AIK Athens in January. I hadn't expected such great things from him, thinking him only a bargain, but he had blossomed with bit part appearances here and there and really stamped himself on this game with a goal from a set piece. Feijao scored a magical goal from a sidestep on left wing, and Marocchi, back after a 4 month absence due to a fractured pelvis (I still disbelieved the doctors when they told me the extent of his injury - how can anyone sustain a fractured pelvis playing football ? - that was the sort of thing you got from a high velocity motor vehicle accident for godsakes !) got on the score sheet with a typical steak down the right. Juve were never in this and the win threatened their place in Europe next year (they actually got there on the final day, but I liked the thought of Mrs Manager having to clean up the brown streaks in Mr Manager's y-fronts after that game).

Torino v Bari 5-3 (away). I would have been happy with a dull 1-0 win here but we didn't get that. Bari were already relegated but played liked everything hinged on this game. The game seemed up when Ellisalde and Lavezzi had us 2 goals up within the first 10 minutes. They snatched one back on 36 minutes but when Feijao restored the 2 goal lead just before the break, I was patting everyone on the back in the dressing rooms thinking that was the end of it. Unfortunately for my nerves, Bari had other ideas. The first 20 minutes after halftime belonged to Bari, and they drew level with two goals with the run of play. I was so frustrated at the defending I threw my hat at Korolev. Fortunately for his and the other defenders, we sealed it - Marocchi first with a splendid placed shot after a nice through ball from Lavezzi sent him through on the right, and then Ellisalde with the last goal of our wonderful season, when he ran onto a header from Lavezzi, direct from Korolev's foot, to run around the keeper and slot it home. Not a fair representation of his we played, but I'd shamelessly take it. For the remaining 7 minutes the players ran around patting each others back, and then the whistle went. I snatched my hat back off an attendant and went to hug Korolev. I am a forgiving b-tard, after all.....

In other news, Valencia beat Arsenal 2-0 in the Champions Cup Final. OK, so we were beaten by the eventual winners. This would not be the end of it, though..........

[Baby BooBoo]

Ah, the statutory 4 weeks off during the European high summer. Something worth civilizing your country for. Which was why the Mongols apparently adopted it when they took over China. Perhaps that was the beginning of the end, when they started getting soft and comfortable, and preferred life on the sedan to life in the saddle. I mused all of this while I sipped my pina colada in Club Med Baku. The beaches may have been rocky and the water from from blue, but at least I could console myself that the water in the ice cubes was safe. I think. What was I doing in Azerbaijan ? The official word was - scouting for talent. I would have been ecstatic if any scouts from Italy were dumb enough to follow me, but somehow, I figured I would be on my own. I'd been doing these little trips every year I'd been at Torino - tracing the Silk Road.

[Baby BooBoo]

I had started in eastern Europe at the end of the first season and was now making my way eastwards, more or less following Marco Polo's trail, getting in touch with my inner Mongol. Of course, at the end of the journey I would zip across Central Asia by air and end up in Mongolia for a few days seeing my adopted family.

I liked my adopted family. They had responded to my missive on finding a 'lost' Mongol heritage, and the original communique is still on Findingancestors.com/weird/dodgy. They really connected with my desire to balance a modern life with their nomadic roots. They had even brought me out to the desert to stay in their yurt the first time that I met them. The 'Made in China' tag on the side of the yurt was disappointing but I suppose no one has the time to go around sewing up their own yurt these days. Friends of theirs even arranged to ship kumiss over to me in Turin (I must admit having vat of fermenting milk in the corner of my bathroom was starting to be a chore, and the cleaner did not have kind words to say about the smell in there every week). Their own predilection for Bordeaux was puzzling to me, and I did have to unfortunately inform them of my failure to secure the services a first growth chateau willing to send over wine in a hip flask for personal consumption. Something about 'polluting their brand' I believe they called it. These decadent westerners just didn't know how to enjoy life, I admitted in an email to my adopted 'father'.

[Baby BooBoo]

The groundsman was once again a little perturbed by my appearance on the first morning on my return to Turin.

'What have you got now, Kubes ?' he asked curiously. It better not be anything that will kill the grass !'

I laughed off his attempt at humour. 'This is going to guarantee a good year, my friend. More than any fiddling around with the ground size and all that nonsense your line markers do every year.'

He sat back and watched as I lifted up the box and removed the glass stoppered bottle, and started sloshing its contents around.

'What the hell is that ?'

'Blood from a freshly squeezed placenta.'

'Urrgh...' he groaned, looking genuinely disgusted. 'How did you manage to get that shipped into Italy ?'

'Don't be stupid man, you can buy a lot of things over the internet, but not something like this. Pepe got it for me.'

'God, how did he.....'

I held up my hand to shut him up. 'I don't care. He said it wasn't illegal, and that's all I care about. Now shush, this is a solemn ceremony.'

'Er, this wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that Pepe is a hospital orderly, would it ?'

'Everyone has their innate talents.....' I uttered sagely to him as I walked away.

I walked into the Turin fog flinging half-clotted blood to the left and right of me. There was probably some kind of poem in this, I thought. Good thing I was no poet.

[Baby BooBoo]

A stirring pre-season, and now a pre-Italian Super Cup meeting before the game against (be still, my jealously beating heart) Udinese.

Present were Alan, loyal lieutenant and right hand Ass Man, and Matteo Forte, my most trusted scout. Alan told me that there were two camps about why I liked Forte so much. There were those who swore his beard, a magnificent thing so voluminous you could have hung Christmas lights on it (at the right time of the year, of course), was what greased his entrance to Olimpico, and then facilitated his move to the top of the scouting heap. Apparently the alternative theory was that the stack of scout reports left by my PA's was in alphabetical order, so Forte came first and hence his position on top of my personal pile. That was a very cruel theory. Especially because S. Alonso had joined us a year ago, as specialist Spanish coach. Did they think I couldn't spell......or something......

'You sold Scholten,' Alan stated very grimly.

'They offered me almost 9 mil. He'll never be worth 9 mil the rest of his life !'

'Its not like we're over-flowing with back-up there.'

'OK, we have Hipp, Khuzwalo and Ferrandiz as our rotating centerbacks. Then we signed Azcurra from River. He's 19 and a hugely promising find - ask Matteo. He'll probably be as good as Scholten by the end of the year, and has potential to burn. Soderqvist is off on loan, so if we get stretched there, Skop could provide cover, in extremis.'

'Sounds a bit thin....' muttered Alan.

I shrugged my shoulders. 'Remember what happened at the end of last season - the fourth centerback got barely any games ! We'll be fone... I hope...'

[Baby BooBoo]

'We're alright at leftback, at least,' Forte chipped in. He was right - there was Jardim, now the lynchpin of that position, and a 'leading Serie A' leftback according to the coaches. He was now 24 and the final article. Dante Vitale would hopefully surpass even him in years to come, but for now he was 18 years old and already a decent player.

'de la Mata is eventually not going to be happy being 3rd in line,' noted Alan.

'Oh well, he may want to leave by then, and that will be fine. Don't forget we have Perez, who is also 18 and just a smidge behind Vitale in terms of his development.'

'Let's hope he comes back from his loan at Vit. Guimaraes having played a bit.'

'I intend to bring him back in January and send Vitale out anyway,' I said.

[Baby BooBoo]

'Arrasate will be first choice at rightback,' I started, stabbing a finger at his position on the large board in the center of my room. 'Still only 22 too, so he wil yet improve.'

'My problem is the available cover. We have only Khuzwalo and Ferrandiz next in line, and they are supposed to be our centerbacks.' Alan looked a little worried. 'I know we brought in Gorko Padilla, but he's only 17 and not really good enough at this level yet. We couldn't possibly start with him.'

'We'll bumble through....' I replied.

'The goals are well looked after with Korolev and Moretti', said Forte, moving on.

'Yeah, I'd like to start thinking about bringing in a younger chap soon, whom those two can mentor. I just don't want to spend an arm and a leg until I know we have the right one. In any event, Korolev's only 22 so its not like there is any rush.'

[Baby BooBoo]

'Our midfield should be strong this year,' commented Alan, pointing to the board.

'Yaar, Skop and Paixao are our first line picks here at defensive midfield...'

'Diamantino is starting to worry me,' noted Forte,' his development has slowed a lot.'

'Think we played him a little too much when he was 17-18 ?'

'Maybe, but we needed him back then. Anyway, he's still one of our most consistent players whatever transpires.'

'Stephane Jean will get lots of playing time this year,' I told the other two. 'Such a shame we didn't have him till this year. This loaning back nonsense is a pain. Still - he's only 18 and already a very acceptable player at this level.'

'Don't you get him growing some kind of beard...' muttered Alan.

'What's wrong with beards ?....' replied Forte, a little defensively.

'Moving along,' I interjected forcefully. 'Guido Oviedo will turn out to be one of the transfers of the season, I think. To think he was an end of contract signing ! He's only 23 so there's a little more improvement to come, but he well and truly eclipses Semenyuk now. Olexandr is on the wane, so he may not even be second in line here now.'

'Argentina are eyeing Guido for his first cap,' noted Forte happily.

'Lavezzi will get time in this position. Consider him the 19 year old Argentine Oviedo-to-come. He'll also be playing at left wing as one of the covers for Feijao also.'

[Baby BooBoo]

Alan got up to stretch. 'Leftwing will be problematic if Feijao gets injured.'

'Yaar, mon, that's one of the disappointments with my signings this year. I really wanted someone as a strong back up here but couldn't find anyone. Still, all our forward can play in this position so at a pinch we can certainly fill the spot.'

'We're certainly ok on the other flank,' pointed out Forte.

'Terry Evans was a good buy from Crystal Palace,' agreed Alan. '21 and already almost as good as Marocchi. They will battle it out for time behind Meeuws. And,' he paused for dramatic effect,' he's an Englishman ! At last...'

Forte chortled. 'Someone to eat bad English food with and drink warm beer with then, Alan...'

Alan stuck his tongue out at him.

Meetings with this lot was sometimes like being back at kindergarten. Without girls present.

[Baby BooBoo]

'Seidan remains our figurehead for the season,' noted Forte.

'Matteo, you are our figurehead for noting the absolutely bleedin' obvious....' murmured Alan.

'Yaar.....' I quickly interjected, trying to head off the playground argument where they started throwing food at each other. Especially when said food was my painfully imported aged 12 month Mongolian Yak cheese. The Turinese cheesemakers had had the audacity to remark that there was a reason why hot countries never discovered cheese, behind pinched noses. I told them they were being prejudiced, possibly even racist. Then wrapped it thrice in cling wrap, and vacuum sealed it twice before submerging it in a container of water. No, that was not the sort of stuff one wanted thrown around my office. 'Seidan is still number one.'

'Ellisalde did score a few goals last year.'

Alan flicked both eyebrows up at Forte's contribution.'Um hmmmmhhh,' he agreed loudly. 'Seidan definitely has the edge on Ellisalde but I reckon the gap will close this year. Both would star in any other Serie A team. Behind them, thanks to the boss,' he said, nodding in my direction, ' we have ton of youngsters with potential.'

Brown-noser. 'Antoni should be named in the 12 subs, and play some time. Maybe Mehdi Zenati also, though he's a little behind Antoni, though he's also 17.' I leaned back, satisfied. 'In a couple of years lads, we'll be here arguing about who should be promoted to the first team, not who we should buy.'

They both had to agree with that.

'Excellent, we have consensus. Now, who wants kumiss to go with their cheese....' I said, leaning towards the water filled container......

[Baby BooBoo]

I initially wanted to send out my best 11 against those thieving b-tards at Udinese. Then, when Alan had held me down and my moment of mouth-foaming madness had passed, I realised just how much the Italian Super Cup meant to our team and supporters. That is, not a lot. So I relented and let Vitake start at leftback, Azcurra to pair with Khuzwalo at centerback and Zahi with 18 year old local product Andreas Betta in midfield (our one shining light of a homegrown talent, so I was going to push him along), and Lavezzi and Evans on either flank.

There were still 60,000 supporters in Rome for what I had decsribed to the local press as 'essentially a friendly.' Good thing the players obviosuly ignored my comments. We tore Udinese a new one. Oveido made his debut for the club and scored within 4 minutes. He romped into the box from a short cross from Arrasete and smacked one straight at the keeper, who could only parry it straight back, and Guido made no mistake the second time around. Not bad for a new player. 9 minutes later we got an own goal off a flukey corner kick which rebounded back into goal off a defender. I strutted around the sidelines waving my whip, I just knew it woudl be a good day... After the break, things got worse for Udi. Not another goal, but a sending off from a senseless hack from behind in midfield by one of their veterans. Only 53 minutes gone. I went for the jugular. 17 year old Maurizio Davioli (another potential homegrown talent) replaced the not-totally-fit Oviedo and after just 4 minutes on the pitch, 10 minutes after Udinese went down to 10 men, played a lovely through ball for Seidan to run onto, and he streaked past his marker to place it beyond the keeper. Another 10 minutes later and he completed his brace, picking up the ball at the halfway line and angling his run to outpace three defenders as he jinked to the edge of the box only to halt, take his measure and chip it past the keeper. A sensational goal, and evidence of his growing confidence in himself. at 4-9 I thought Udinese's humiliation complete, but hadn't counted on Lavezzi, stroming down the left in the 2nd minute of injury time and lobbing in a well-weighted pass that Davioli, left all alone to roam into the six yard box, finished with aplomb past hapless Abdel Rahman in the Udi goal. I thnk its fair to say he had a forgettable day. But a trophy to us, despite fielding a weakened side !

[Baby BooBoo]

Confidence had, its fair to say, reached started off sky high in our camp. Paola seemed to have a new lease of life, surrounded by another 10 young men of 16 or 17. I think she personally approved of my policy of only signing young talent. Whatever it was she was saying to them, it was having a great effect.

'You're doing a great job,' I told her in passing in the corridor later that week.

'Thanks Kublai, I am pleased with the outcomes so far,' she said demurely.

'Any concerns with anyone ?'

'Hmmm...not really, though I think I could do with spending more time with the new first team signings - like Evans....and Oviedo'.

I shrugged. 'Sure, sure, help them to acclimatise and all that, yaar. Tell them I said they should cooperate.'

She winked. 'Ok, whatever you say...' she said, as she walked off. I still couldn't help but allow my gaze to fall on her rather fetching bottom as it wobbled off.

Hmmm, I wondered soon afterwards as I entered my office - did I just miss something in the subtext there ?

[Baby BooBoo]

We were playing Parma to kick off Serie A. I named a full strength team, though the subs bench was littered with youngsters eager to make their mark. Well, to be honest, its not like I had anything other than youngsters to fill my bench with. iot was an away game at Ennio Tarchi so I was a tad wary. Parma had done poorly last year, but did have one dangerous player whom I had considered buying - 20 year old striker-cum-winger Emanuele Falco, whom all my scouts rated highly. I was forced to abndon hopes of signing him when they demanded no less than 23 mil Euro for him, which I rather baulked at. But I did think he was promising and was not ruling out coming back for him. He started up front for Parma, so it was great chance to look at him.

We dominated on every front, manipulating possession and shots on goal. Still, it took a 39th minute goal from a corner which Hipp buried with a tap-in at the near post, which settled it. I was far from happy about the finishing but it was a start for Stephane Jean, who looked assured for all of his 18 years.

8 days later we got to stay home as Fiorentina visited. This was a must-win, I thought, given Fioro's 3rd place last year, and obvious strengths. Unfortunately we started poorly and in the 3rd minute, having barely warmed up, Fioro's Jindrich Divecky was sent through on the right, when he rammed the ball past Korolev. It seemed to spur the chaps on, especially Oviedo, who put on a masterclass. He first struck in the 20th minute when Feijao crossed into his zone to allow a relatively simple shot from just outside the six yard box. We kept pressing, with Oviedo in everything. It took us till the 56th minute to finally wrest back the lead - a simple short pass from Meeuws from a corner smashed home from outside the box by our new Argentine star. By now, we were in total control and it was just a matter of if we would score again. We did just that 15 minutes later when a simple ball from Feijao found Jean 30 yards from goal, who sent an unstoppable shot into the top far corner. We had been mightily impressive and confidence was sky high. Could we dream about defending this title ? Could I be any more obvious about my wishes ? Could I muse about any other things related to this team at such an early stage of the season ?

[Baby BooBoo]

Now our first loss for the year, away to Napoli. I had decided to give young Azcurra a run in the first team, and we started off brightly enough, Meeuws running free down the left to slam home the lead in 52nd minute. Unfortunately there followed a brain fart of exquisite proportions, a really warm and rather wet one, at that. We just collapsed, for no reasons apparent to me, and the defence was especially woeful. There were no heroes today. In the space of 35 minutes or so we let in 4 goals. I was so furious they said they would be wiping my spittle off the windows of the away dressing room in San Paolo for years.

3 days later we faced Stuttgart at home. The bookies were telling us a 'cricket score' might be on the cards. When I quizzed Alan about this (he being the only Englishman in earshot) he said they were implying, like the current English team, the scoreline would be 1-0 or 2-0 rather quickly upon commencement of play. It seemed a long winded way to explain a leaky defence, but Alan shrugged. Englishmen were like that when it came to sports sometimes, I concluded. A rather mysterious lot. In any event I prepared the lads for a backs-to-the-wall effort, but Stuttgart had left their fighting spirit west of the Rhine (or was it the Elbe, my geography wasn't the best). Ellisalde started, as his form was currently better than Seidan's, and he started us off with a lovely bit of short passing within the box, the sort of interplay with Oviedo that I was aiming for in training. When Khuzwalo sunk in a corner just 5 minutes later, in the 39th minute, I realised that the German tiger had no teeth. So it was we finished - I was a little disappointed we didn't get more, but who was I to complain ?

1-0 victories to Roma and Sampdoria followed - away and at home respectively. On the one hand, I was pleased with the victories, but perhaps I was expecting more given the team was more settled now than it had ever been, and we had a stellar attacking midfield general calling the shots in the front third. It was a portent for things to come.

[Baby BooBoo]

Paola seemed the most content of everyone in the club, regardless of whether we were winning or losing. The volume of players wanting time with her seemed to only to grow as the weeks went by, and by now it seemed laughable that we ever thought we could do without her. Strangely enough, her popularity seemed only to grow when she hooked up with Seidan, as if her unavailability tempered everyone's obvious attraction to her. Or maybe, they just wanted to get into her pants to put one up on Seidan...

[Baby BooBoo]

We played Roma at home next, and the wall started wobbling. We leaked in 3 goals, which was bad enough, but when we were 3-2 up with 15 minutes to go, I would have out money on us lasting out the match - but it wasn't to be. Carlos Roberto, Milan's 30 mil winger, bookended the match with an own goal, and then that final equaliser that consigned us to 4th on the table. Doubt about our ability to match it with the big boys started to creep in. The board decided to compound it by refusing to consider expanding the stadium - I would have to do with our 30.000 odd capacity.

We went away to Vitesse next in the Champions Cup, needing a win, given that they were the 'whipping boys' of our group. Seidan and Meeuws put on a masterclass in the first half. Both goals provided from Meeuws right boot - the first an early cross from almost halfway, volleyed in spectacularly by Seidan in the box, the next a regulation tap-in after a steaking drive by Meeuws to the byline follwed by a wonderfully whipped in cross. Seidan had rewarded his reinstatement to the team, and how. A Moretti fumbling error which allowed the ball to squeeze into the near post off a cross gave us some heartburn with 15 minutes to go, but we left winners, and not out of our class in this group.

[Baby BooBoo]

'The wall is wobbling, gents, I can feel it...' I told the Brains Trust during our weekly meeting.

The Brains Trust was our new initiative, a meeting of the Inner Circle of the management of the team. I had read about it in some management manual somewhere. Alan, new chief scout Jorg Stock and Forte (apart from myself, of course) comprised the group. There were protests when I insisted upon sitting in a circle and consuming fried and crumbed lambs brains before we started our business, but I insisted. It would go against the spirit of the thing not to follow the manual's intent to the tee. Besides, I knew one of the mammas in the canteen had a way with crumbed brains and boy was I right. Tofu for meat-eaters, that was how I described it to Forte after he shovelled a mouthful down, unaware of what it was. He promptly turned green, and did not look much better when I passed him kumiss to wash it down with.

'You mean the wheels are wobbling, Kubes,' muttered Alan.

'Wheels, walls, whatever.... its not like us Mongols to be able to differentiate words of construction. We were primarily destroyers, after all.'

'You mean you're worried about our form ?' queried Forte.

I looked Forte fondly. Such a good scout and judge of men's abilities. Such a great summariser of the 'flipping obvious', as Alan would put it. I loved it.

'We're not cutting through like we used to !'

'Oh c'mon boss, we're a few games into the season, don't get your g-string into a twist. Things will turn...'

'We're leaking goals we didn't used to before Scholten went,' said Forte softly. 'My g-string is knotted tightly around my throat right about now.' All of us tried to picture that in our heads, and it shut us up momentarily. Huh ???

Stock ventured a word. 'Maybe we should plan on picking up an experienced centerback in the January transfer season ? Azcurra's going ok, but he's noweher near as solid as Donovan was.'

I shrugged. 'I'm not buying anyone we can't develop. That's not my style, lads.'

Alan piped up. "Losing not ours either, boss, but I have to admit I'm worried.'

'Fine, fine, let's keep that option open but in the meantime, I'm going to start stockpiling lucky charms.'

They looked at me as if I was crazy.

'Trust me !'

The looks did not change. At all.....

[Baby BooBoo]

As sure as snow turns to water inside a used gelati cup, our form went downhill after that conversation.

The game against Palermo at home comprised 5 chances at goal, 4 from us and one from them. The fans must have been rivetted by watching the cockroaches crawling up the side of the grandstand. We scored early through Oviedo but after the break, their one chance fo rthe match yeilded a goal an dthey 'did a Torino' against us, holding out for the draw.

4 days later we faced Cagliari and what I thought should have been a nice, solid victory. Instead the southerners had us chasing a lead all match, and ran out deserved 3-2 victors. I was so so resigned to our fate I didn't even rail against the team.

3 days later Manchester United came to town and I readied for the worst. I put in Ellisalde, after Seidan's non-performance for the last few games. He turned the game on its head in the first 3 minutes by latching onto a rebound from a long range Oviedo effort to put us ahead. Man U came hard at us, but our defense, for once, held up, and we looked dangerous on the break; such that a deep cross from Feijao on the left after healftime yeilded a clumsily finished goal in the 68th minute to seal United's fate. I hardly believed it at the end and asked the lads how much they had bribed the red devils. Somehow no one seemed amused by my little joke.

[Baby BooBoo]

3 days after that exhilarating victory Catabia came to Olimpico and we stuttered to a 0-0 draw against them. The doubts were back.

By this time I had amassed a kitbag full of lucky charms - four-leaf clovers, paper effigies, photos of animal sacrifices (come on, I'm not that insensitive !), mistletoe (I was getting desperate and I admitted it to Alan) - all the accoutrements one would assume when one wanted the fates acting on one's side.

The lads thought I was crazy, but I did manage to get some of them to wear lucky charms around their necks for the games. Not that it appeared to do much good.....

[Baby BooBoo]

Despite my concerns about our ability, we kept racking up the wins;

Torino v Pescara 3-1 (away) - winless Pescara were never in this after we started with 3 goals (2 to Oviedo and 1 to Feijao) within 35 minutes. They did get a consolation goal to deny Moretti and the defenders a clean sheet bonus - thanks muchly..

Torino v Udinese 4-0 (home) - the rematch of the Italian Super Cup and just as emphatic a victory. I was really starting to enjoy playing the Udis. Feijao got a hattrick and Seidan snagged another whilst the Udis managed to get 7 yellow cards and a straight red. Their coach must have been tearing his hair out by the end of the match.

Torino v Man U 1-1 (away) - Old Trafford, who would have thought we would grace it with our presence ? I expected a loss, I must admit, and sent in some youngsters to soak up the experience. 73,000 fans watched wave after wave of attacks break against our wall of defenders. They only breached it once - and early, in the 13th minute; but Azcurra got us a point at the near post from a corner immediately after halftime, and we held on for the point that guaranteed participation in the first knock out round. Even our kids were performing above expectations now.

I must admit after those stirring performances my concerns about the team were starting to dissipate. The charms were about to be out away. Besides, I had other distractions....

[Baby BooBoo]

(Dear reader(s),

This story is going into a hiatus while I am off on school holidays with the rest of the family. I will endeavour to pick up the pieces in a few weeks when life is back to it usual rhymes and rhythms -thanks to those following this, BBB)

[Gary_Parker]

(Dear reader(s),

This story is going into a hiatus while I am off on school holidays with the rest of the family. I will endeavour to pick up the pieces in a few weeks when life is back to it usual rhymes and rhythms -thanks to those following this, BBB)

I just got into this story too. Fantastic easy reading. I like it. Enjoy your holiday, can't wait for next instalment.

[Baby BooBoo]

(Back from holidays and raring to go, but work and other vaguely important RL bits will delay the continuation of this sordid tale. Thanks to Gary for his continued attention. There was progress made on the beaches of Queensland, however - finally got around to reading Foot's history of Italian football, 'Calcio', so I should be able to colour the narrative a bit better. My immediate thought is that I have definitely downplayed the dodgy aspects of Italian football so far... Also, because of the my equally dodgy political beliefs, don't be too surprised if I jump at the chance to turn hard left and take up the Livorno job, should it become available - but given it all rests upon Kublai's mood, who knows what will happen ???BBB)

[Baby BooBoo]

My left hamstring had been giving me problems for some years - ever since I had quit football myself. Despite my exploits on the field consisting of a kick-about with the lads at training or the odd, very low pressured celebrity match, it still ached. With the cold November weather setting in, it was starting to announce its presence once more.

I poked my head into the physio department. 'Hallo, physios....'

The four of them looked up. 'Oh, its you boss. We never see you down here...? What's up ?' asked Fabio, the head physio.

I looked sheepishly at my right leg. 'This damn hamstring is giving me more trouble again, what with winter setting in.'

Helga the German physio pointed to one of the treatment beds. 'OK, we will fix it. Lie down.' Well, she certainly was a no-nonsense type. I imagine that being German made one lean in that direction.

I lay down shortly after she berated me for not taking off my pants. Luckily I had bothered to search for clean undies in my flat this morning. I had taken to hiring the cleaning lady for an extra couple of hours each week just to tidy up. I mean, I was a world-famous football manager. Colour-coding my socks was low on the list of priorities, and as for washing the damnable things...

Helga got to work and her magic fingers worked away at the sore spots at the back of that leg. It felt... great. Alan's deviousness in hiring her was revealed. I wondered how he knew she would be this good.

I half-turned over at one stage and caught an eyeful of her cleavage as she leaned right over me. Hastily I rolled back onto my belly, lest the level of my arousal became evident. Now I had to make sure I was, er, not excited before I had to get up. I started to count sheep. Desperately.

Finally she smacked her hands together and declared, 'Done boss, feels better.'

I got up and gave the leg a few air kicks. 'Oh yeah, Helga. Terrific. Magic.'

'Come down later in the week - we will have to get you doing regular massages to get this sorted out.'

'Your wish is my command,' I declared. Oh it most certainly was.......

[Baby BooBoo]

Empoli away only reinforced my feeling that the worm had turned. We were 3-0 up before the break, courtesy Seidan's double and a Feijao volley from the inside left wing position again. They did pull one back but we finished off with style, with a long range effort from home grown talent Andrea Betta - we were going to see a lot more of this kid, I suspected.

The club was then deserted with the usual departures for a string of internationals, and I took advantage by jetting off to Baku for a few days. After a round of hamstring treatment, of course. Strangely enough Helga declined when I asked if she wanted to accompany me, 'on official club business' of course, to Azerbaijan for a scouting mission. Somehow my description of sifting through ruins for the remains of the Mongol horde's trek through Central Asia in the middle ages did not captivate her.

Back after the break, we entertained Genoa at home. The stadium was again at capacity. I was increasingly frustrated with The Chairman's refusal to consider an increase in the capacity of the ground, but at the end of the day, he was the man wielding the cheque book. Genoa were weak away from home, though put up a fight. I had opted to test Ellisalde after Seidan returned from international duty a little tired, and the lad rewarded me with a fine break away goal in the 37th minute. Though we threatened for the rrest of the match, we simply couldn't find the second goal to polish off the performance. Meeuws then got himself injured for a couple of weeks, which worried me given our next match.

Germany beckoned, and Stuttgart in the Champions League. Mercedes-Benz Arena roared with 51,000 fans and my eyes watered at the prospect of one day having that many Turinese roaring for us. But not to be, for now anyway. I started with Ellisalde, hoping he would carry on his good form, and Marocchi replaced Meeuws. Thos tow combined to give us the lead from a break in the 15th minute - Arrasete racing off down the right and crossing for Ellisalde to cleverly chest down onto Marocchi's left foot, which smashed the ball past the keeper. It was tight all game and perhaps I should not have been surprised when they equalised halfway through the second half - a simple cross from their right not dealt with by our defence, and veteran vice-captain David Luis nipping in to finish in the six yard box. Nonetheless, a valuable point, and we were now within reach of qualifying from the group, and possibly in first place, assuming a solid result in the last game, against Vitesse.

I took much the same team to Rome, where Lazio awaited us. The sky blues were not much of a threat this year, looking like a mid-table side at best, but at home, obviously could not be underestimated. It was comically bad game which either side could have won, but no winner would have been proud of the product. Our defense was woeful, with Dante Vitali and Juraj Hipp playing so badly I was forced to sub them at half-time, which was unprecedented. However, they weren't responsible for us being a goal down at half-time; it was Moretti's mistake - a fumbled block off a weakly struck long shot which he allowed to squeeze under his body. I raged at the lads at half-time but it took a sublime Feijao free kick to have us level. Of course we handed the lead back to them 7 minutes later when a poorly dealt with free kick allowed the loose ball to flop in front of Romanian internatinoal striker Rotaru, who placed it past the hapless Moretti. I yelled at the lads to attack, thinking that the defenders would not be any worse attacking, given how hopeless they had been performing in the supposed comfort zone. 10 sweaty-palmed minutes later we equalised, stringing a whole slew of passes and overloading their defence with our overlapping fullbaks to isolate Evans on the left (having replaced a tiring Feijao) who thundered it past the keeper. Just when I thought the game was up, Arrasete's lovely through pass in the 87th minute found Oviedo with his back to goal - his delightful first-time tap to Ellisalde found him a yard of space and the youngster did right by us, clubbing the ball into the far corner, beyond the keeper. We had got away with that, having played appallingly, but three points is three points.

[Baby BooBoo]

Into December now and it was starting to get much colder in the Turinese hills. I appreciated my massages so much that I had to cease them, as to have persisted would have caused tongues to wag. Who would have thought; K. Khan, picture of self-control. In any event, I was still ambivalent about 'fraternizing' with the staff.

Our bank balance was so healthy that I had space to move around and snare a few top class coaches for the youth team. Given our philosophy of working with our youth to get first team players, it seemed sensible.

'Hah, Man U will love you - beating them in the Champions League and then pinching their coaches !' Alan beamed. Like so many of his countrymen he had a healthy hatred of the Red Devils.

I shrugged. 'Its nothing personal, but I don't mind screwing other teams to get what I want...'

'You're burning bridges there, Kublai. You're never going to be top of the list for a candidate as the gaffer next time round !'

I shrugged again. 'I will never sign for one of the big boys, Alan. I can guarantee you that now. I played for them for enough years and got treated as just another number - well, mainly a Number 9, but you know what I mean.... No, I'm going to get a small club up to the big time, and mold it so that it still has a small club feel to it. Hopefully its Torino, but who knows - its a big footballing world we live in now...'

Alan looked at me as if I had just admitted to being an alien. Actually, he had looked at me like that quite a bit since I had hired him, to be honest. 'So that's your secret ambition ?'

'Hah hah !' I exclaimed, standing up suddenly and flinging my fake cape into the air. 'You have unmasked me. I am the Super Mongol, and I am here to help !'

Forte, who happened to be just passing by the open door to my office, snorted. 'Oh, and what super powers have you got, maestro ?'

I waved my hands absentmindedly in the air. 'This and that...'

He dismissed me with a wave and walked off.

'The power to send scouts to godforsaken places, Forte, that's f&^king what...' I muttered behind his back.

Alan sniggered. 'Congo this time ?'

'Pshaw. Guinea. They just reported an outbreak of Ebola. That'll sort the class footballers from the rest.'

'From the dead, you mean.'

I tossed the list of January transfer targets at him and pointed to it. 'Are we just going to spend all morning talking about zombies now or should our discussions turn to those that could actually help us on the football field ?'

Alan threw up his hands. 'Ok, you're the boss. But - ow ! - I think I have a hamstring strain, wonder what physio is available to help me with it today ?'

Merde.... and I thought I had been the picture of discretion.......

[Baby BooBoo]

Vitesse came to us, last group game in the Champions League. Win this and we would top the group. I was so confident that I sent in a whole host of younger lads - Zahi, Evans, Vitale, Antoni, Azcurra and Jean all got starts. Our average age would have been south of 21. Despite Alan's concerns, I was proven right. The lads did me right and romped it home. Ellisalde won us a penalty on 27 minutes, which sent us on our way. At halftime I urged the lads to press home the advantage and to their credit, they did. Antoni's goal at 50 minutes was a beauty, the 18 year old streaking away down the left and angling his run to beat two defenders before placing it beyond the keeper's grasping left hand. on 82 minutes, Evan's cross was nipped in at the near post by an incoming Lavezzi, and we were home and hosed. Top of the group and full of beans. The next day we found out our opponents were to be Barcelona, and I donated the beans to a homeless person who needed them more.

4 days later we travelled to Milan to face Inter. This was the usual, foul-tempered game which we had played with them for a few years. The yellow cards were slapped here, there, everywhere. We got away early from a headed goal to Ferrandiz from a corner, but when Arrasete nabbed his second yellow on 57 minutes, they made us pay 2 minutes later when the barely organised defence brought down striker Orsi, who converted it himself to save them a point. I was furious with the performance, and it was a great chance to change things wholescale - in any event, Catanzaro was out next opponent in the Italian Cup, and the bottom half Serie B team should not have provided anything more than target practice.

As it turns out, despite playing us at Olimpico, the little yellow team made us sweat - literally, because the game stretched to 120 minutes. We attacked and attacked but only found the net once in the first 90 minutes - 17 year old Gilles Bertholot, my record signing this year from Stade Rennais, latching onto a clearing header from Zahi to streak away from the leaden Catanzaro defence to poach his first ever professional goal. Unfortunately for us, we allowed an equaliser - a simple nod home from an unmarked oppo midfielder at the near post off a corner. That allowed them to stretch the game into extra time, but despite my young and tired players, we finished them off with 2 goals to avoid the dreaded penalty situation (which would have been disastrous with the number of youngsters I had on the pitch) - Zahi drifting free on the right hand corner of the box to slip one past the keeper at the near post and then an injury time own goal, to confirm our way into the next round, 3-1.

[Baby BooBoo]

News had leaked about my latest obsession with lucky charms. I did not have to ponder about how it had happened - I strongly suspected someone from my staff with a Birmingham accent had had one drink too many with a certain Ultra capo one night.

Soon, the ultras started waving banners with pictures of four leaf clovers and garlic. The next game they brought in rosemary twigs and at the end of the disappointing Milan game, flung them onto the pitch in disgust. Actually, I rather liked the smell of the stuff - it made a contrast to the smell of flares and the other rubbish they tended to fling onto the pitch.

Just before the next match we were going to play, the derby against the hated black-and-white ones, they had prepared a huge picture of a hunchback, but this time, we were claiming the lucky symbol for our own, rather than for Juve. The older trainers shook their heads in bewilderment - strange times since a certain Mongol manager had taken over....

[Baby BooBoo]

The first of the derbies this year was the away fixture, so a heaving Juventus stadium with 51,000 people greeted us. This season this was a top of the table clash, with Juve and us occupying first and second on the table respectively, and with Napoli 3rd, all clumped together with only 4 points between the lots of us. I wanted to at least draw and perhaps even pinch it, but it was going to be hard with our rejuvenated Turin neighbours having rediscovered their pride after a disappointing 6th place finish last season.

We were on the back foot all game. The forwards hardly got a sniff and it was not a surprise to see that we did not even gather a shot on target all game. Paixao and Jean (for the injured Skop) were terrific and busy all game, shielding the back four. The ball, needless to say, spent 90% of the time in our half. Korolev was solid, and was starting to demonstrate why I had been so excited to win his signature at the start of the season. It ended 0-0 but I was the far happier manager given the circumstances of the draw.

We had a week-long rest before facing Sassuolo at Olimpico, but I opted to bring in some fresher players anyway, expecting little contest against 3rd from the third from the bottom team. This time the forwards did most of the work, with us camped in Sass's half all match. We nabbed 3 goals without a reply, Feijao and Seidan's consecutive strikes in the first half sending us on our way, and then Antoni's second goal of the season, a delightful chip from the left hand edge of the box over the advancing keeper, sealing his wonder-sub appearance. 3-0 and morale was high.

The next game, away to cellar dwellers Avellino, should have been equally straightforward, but we made it closer than it should have been. Guido Oviedo had a rare off day and disrupted our flow going forward. Nonetheless we were solid at the back, so it was an arm wrestle until Ellisalde earned us a penalty in the 55th minute which Evans put away. 9 minutes later he had another chance to sink a penalty courtesy a tumble in the box by Feijao, but missed that. So we finished 1-0 winners, but it was closer than I would have preferred.

[Gary_Parker]

Some good results there, keep it up.

[Baby BooBoo]

(Thanks, good to have you back reading this)

The bottleneck at the top of the ladder between us, Napoli and Juve continued on. We were now into the New Year, and I was pleased about our progress, though a sneaking paranoia just could not be shaken, for some reason.

The rumours started about Arrasete. He was on a $15 mil release clause, which I had negotiated up from a paltry $5 mil, hoping to ward off suitors. He seemed content enough and had never complained to me about anything. Nonetheless I wanted someone to keep an eye on this and assigned Fernandez the scout to be my eyes and ears here.

Meanwhile Alan and I sat in my office tossing player cards at each other. Players we were half-thinking of signing anyway. Some of the money being bandied around was ludicrous, especially for untried 16 and 17 year olds.

'This is b**s**t,' muttered Alan, frustrated at the whole process.

I sighed. 'They have us by the balls, my friend. But, if we want an entire squad of homegrown talents we have no choice.'

'C'mon, boss, maybe we don't need so many youngsters. I mean, enough to get through European home grown rules, sure. But it doesn't have to be everyone ! I mean, its not like we're friggin' Ajax here...'

'Al, this is the way, my friend. This club will never afford to shell out galactico transfer fees for Real-Madrileno-esque players. We have to be willing to pay the 5 or 10 or 15 mil and nurture these chaps along.'

Alan nodded in sympathy. 'Yeah, and then we get Prevost, and them unwilling to part with him for under 40 mil !'

Alan tossed Andy Prevost's player card into the pile. The 18 year old kid was an absolute superstar in the making, everyone could see that. Just a shame that they pinched him from Stade Rennais for 4.6 mil 3 years ago and were now hanging onto him for grim life. Equally sad that he was at a club which did not exactly need for money.

'We'll get some and some we won't, my friend, that's life. Look at the ones whom we snared that we wouldn't sell for 40 mil now !'

Alan pushed the bottle of kumiss at me. 'OK boss, but let's keep half an eye on this one, just in case he ever gets antsy at Monaco'.

'Well, he's a right back anyway, and we're not exactly wanting in that department,' I said.

How wrong I was to be, shortly after that.....

[Baby BooBoo]

We now face mid-table Bologna at home and with only 2 shots on target for us and 1 for them, is it any wonder that it ends a boring 0-0 draw ? I think about tearing my hair out as I berate the lads but then I think about out barber and how he would miss out on the fortnightly work out with my locks. I just spit kumiss as I yell and shout at everyone instead. It seems to have the desired effect.

Parma come to Olimpico next. This is interesting as they feature Emmanuele Falco, a home grown 20 year old target man whom I almost signed in the pre-season, but baulked at the 20 mil asking price. He has a bad game, thereby making me feel immediately better about failing to sign on the dotted line. We are always in chareg of this hame, especially after 3 quick goals after 21 minutes. Evans gets us off to a screamer, pouncing on a rebounded free kick from Oviedo. On 9 minutes Oviedo gets into the action himself, nodding truly from the edge of the six yard box from a Jardim cross. On 21 minutes Evans turns supplier, crossing for Oviedo at the near post to slide home. The Argentine is having a terrific season, justifying my pre-season excitement at his signing, and his place in the national team. We dominate for the rest of the half, and I send the lads out with 'clear heads' to polish them off. On 50 minutes Oviedo feeds Seidan at the edge of the box - his long range effort is palmed by the keeper but lobs backwards agonisingly slowly, and just beats his backwards leap as he attempts to slap it away. At this stage someone snaps an invisible switch, and the team decide to cruise home. This allows Parma to grab two consolation goals. I am a little upset, but too pleased about the first four goals to be bothered. This proves to be a mistake.

Morale is sky high. We go into the home tie with Fiorentina in the next round of the Italian Cup with a every expectation of a positive result. I put a few youngsters in, believing the bookmakers hype about our chances in the match. However, that carelessness at the back which I failed to move on comes back to haunt me. They open scoring with a simple goal at the near post off a corner in the 19th minute. We struggle to reply but do after Evans latches on a spilled block from the keeper from an Oviedo effort - he is proving quite the poacher our young man. We then proceed to bombard the flowery ones with attack after attack but we are rewarded only with the sight of a stunning 25 yard scorcher by attacking midfielder Luciano Goncalves. And despite more forays forward, 2-1 to Fioro is how it ends. And with it our Italian Cup dreams. It is looking as if this is one competition which I am fated never to win.

[Baby BooBoo]

After the disappointment of our Italian Cup exit I spend a few days moping. Luckily there are days to mope around with as there is now a gap between this and our next match. The staff know better than to bother me. Pepe the Ultra sends us a plastic bag of chicken hearts but is himself so muddle-headed he writes in the accompanying note 'Show some guts next time'. I ask the Professor of Literature at Turin University, a known Torino fanatic, to write a half page post-modern critique of Pepe's utilisation of mixed metaphors as a vehicle of complaint. That'll take a few beers at a bar to decipher.

Then Arrasete requested a meeting, and I assume that the b%^rd just wanted a better contract, which is strange because he has never requested one before.

'I appreciate everything that you've done - you've really pushed me along,' he started.

Oh oh. Don't tell me.....

'But...' he says, leaving the word hanging in the air as he adjusts his bottom in the seat, like a kid with intestinal worms. '....I want bigger things.'

'Jorge, we won the scudetto last year and are on track for back to back wins. OK, another disappointing Italian Cup exit, but that's not exactly my main focus. In a month we play Barce in the Champions League - how much more could you expect from a team that I have transformed completely in three years ?'

Arrasete sighed. 'That's the thing, boss. I want to be on the other side of the pitch in the Champions League. I want to be in the side that is expected to win the league, and expected to challenge in the Champions Cup, not tremble at their knees facing 'big old Barce' !'

'We are going to get better and better, Jorge, look at the youngsters we have here.'

'Arrasete ignored me. 'And besides, I think I'm undervalued here, and a new club will be sure to pay what I deserve.'

I knew I had lost him at that point, so I let him air his grievances. I would let Alan make new overtures about a new contract, but some other club was clearly on the horizon.

'Who is it, Jorge, which club ?' I said, cutting him off.

He stood up. 'Monaco. They will trigger the contract clause and my agent will get me a good deal, I'm sure. After all, they have a lot more money than Torino.Sorry boss, but business is business.'

I was as dejected as I was angry as Arrasete walked to the door. Just before leaving he turned.

'Oh, I almost forgot. I have to pass on a message.'

I raised my eyebrows.

'Mr Singh sends his regards.' He turned and walked off.

My jaw hit the ground while my mind raced with the possibilities of that last comment. Was this payback to Torino from Singh ? Was it an overture from Singh to 'renew our acquaintance ? What the hell had just happened ???

2 days later Monaco bid Arrasete's release clause of 15 mil and contract negotiations were wrapped up suspiciously quickly. 4 days after that meeting he was traveling on a train to the other side of the border. Gazetto dello Sport decried my inability to keep him, but his salary at Monaco was higher than my highest paid player in Torino. Once again money talked.

Alan and I hastily met to throw up names for a replacement.

'Notice who bloody bought him ! They have Prevost as well, so I don't know what they're playing at, one of them's not going to be satisfied for long competing for that right back position.' Alan was fuming.

'Well, that's their problem now. Our problem now is having no right back besides Khuzwalo.'

'And if he gets injured.....when he gets injured, that is....' Alan shook his head ruefully. Our beloved South African rightback was fairly prone to spending time with the physios. For legitimate reasons, I hasten to add.

We sifted through the player cards. There was a few good prospects, but none good enough as a starter, and that was what young Padilla was going to be in a year or two anyway. Two other possibilites couldn't be brought in this year, being Brazilian and Ukrainian and us having exhausted our '2 foreigners signed per season' rule.

We tapped the list the scouts had provided from the transfer market. It looked grim.

'It has to be a loan,' I finally stated to Alan.

He jabbed his finger at Mark Moore, Fulham's transfer listed right back. 'He'll have to do.'

The scouts didn't paint a great picture of him, but he was better than Padilla - not a lot, but significantly so.

'This sucks,' I said, summing up the entire week.

[Baby BooBoo]

When the lads heard about the Arrasete departure the mood was dark. I considered holding a team meeting to explain the situation but Alan told me that there wasn't a good enough reason and may spark a feeling of panic anyway. I did have a quiet word to some of the older players, hoping to calm some nerves.

Besides the shock of this, we now faced Napoli at home, a 2nd vs 3rd clash. I prayed our distraction would not hurt us. Moore had not arrived so Khuzwalo took rightback and Padilla was told he was a chance at a run at some stage. I needn't have worried about the game because the lads responded quite magnificently, distractions or not. Feijao got us going in the 12th minute, an almost comical goal as he and Meeuws sent angled shots across the face of goal twice from the extreme left and right corners of the six yard box before Feijao's seond attempt finally caught the inside edge of the far post to bobble home. Napoli didn't lie down then but responded with an equaliser off a corner. At halftime we went in 1-1 and at that stage it seemed like the tight match everyone was predicting. immediately after the kick off the visitors conceded a free kick at the edge of the box and Feijao stepped up to curl it into the top right corner. That seemed to deflate the southerners and from that point on we were in control. Hipp stabbed home a corner at the near post 6 minutes later, and then Feijao completed the rout with his hattrick with yet another free kick - identical position and exactly the same free kick executed to the back of the net on the right. It sent us top of the table for the first time in the season, and things were starting to look up.

Sampdoria hosted us in Genova next, and were struggling to get their chins above the bottom third of the table this year. I sent in some of the younger lads to get some experience, and also as Moore was unfit and needed a few games with the reserves to get up to speed. Sampdoria had the idea of playing it rough to unsettle us, and it certainly brought the game down to their level. We snatched the lead from Ferrandiz, polishing off a rebound from a free kick by Evans, and then struggled to penetrate their five man defense all game - albeit that their own attempts to score at our end were few and very far between anyway. So it ended 1-0 to us, which was a little disappointing, but three points remained three points.

The next weekend we faced Fiorentina in Florence, and we had a score to settle now, of course. I sent on a full strength side, including Moore. This was tight struggle, settled entirely in the last 3rd of the game. We had sat back all game trying to nip a counterattack here and there, and Seidan's 57th minute header from a Lavezzi long bomb seemed to be enough, initially. Fiorentina pegged one back from a sublime finish by their Number 9, de Bondt, after a delightful through ball by Goncalves, who was starting to be Torino's Florentine nemesis. However, on 72 minutes Lavezzi played an equally delightful through ball for Seidan to run onto, and he finished with aplomb. That was how the scoring ended, and we had got our revenge. The whip made its reappearance again and our traveling fans roared their approval.

[Baby BooBoo]

When The Chairman asked to see me, I dreaded the worst. Being grilled about the Arrasete affair was going to be difficult, especially our failure to secure a higher re;ease clause for the transfer. But that wasn't what was on his mind at all.

'Sit down Kublai,' he indicated.

I sat down warily, ready to endure a bollocking over the whole Arrasete business and the damnable exit from the Italian Cup.

'Look boss, about Jorge...'

He shook his head at me absentmindedly. 'Arrasete ? Never mind that, that's not what I asked you here for...'

I was puzzled. "Then ..?'

'Who is this chap Singh, and why does he want to meet me ?'

I rolled my eyes heavenward. 'You don't want anything to do with the slimy bugger. He's a match-fixer from SE Asia. Even talking anout him makes me feel dirty.'

The Chairman sighed. 'I thought as much. It sounded too good that someone wanted to talk to me about how to bring the club 'to the next stage' and I had never even heard about him..'

'He's bad news, sir. I met with him just once a few months ago and came to that conclusion within minutes - that's why I didn't bother telling you at the time.'

'I'm glad you admitted that you had heard about him, Kublai, because not admitting it would be...problematic.'

'Oh, why ?'

'He's saying he has an...understanding with you.'

I shot out of the chair upright. 'That's a lie ! I wanted nothing to do with him, and there was no bloody understanding happening apart from that !'

'You did tell him to contact Paola...'

Ooops. 'Er, I was trying to deflect his attention off me. I mean, how much trouble would arise from him meeting the team psychologist ?'

'She is my daughter, of course.'

I threw my hands apart in a gesture of innocence. 'I knew she would handle him.'

He indicated to me to take a seat again. 'Ok,

[Baby BooBoo]

'Ok,' this is what we do now...' he leaned forward conspiratorially. 'But, now a word of this gets out to any other member of staff - anyone !' He jabbe dhis finger into the desk for emphasis.

I nodded enthusiastically, to reinforce this.

'Especially bloody Pepe and the Ultras, they are worse at keeping a secrte than the canteen ladies !'

I had to agree there.