Terry & The Daggers [5m1w: Terry Langford]

[Makonnen]

Terry Langford remains an intriguing character for me, despite an utter lack of success. Here’s the history in a nutshell: he’s an occasional drunk who is devoted to two things. One is bringing the sweeper back into modern football a la Bielsa; the other is Leticia “Leti” Netshamulivho, his girlfriend, who has seen him through thick and thin over the past few years.

Terry and Leti met in South Africa, where he managed Ajax Cape Town (interspersed, here) straight to a shocking relegation. He was hired by Rodengo Saiano in Italy, but failed to hold his position there as well. A brief stint with the now-defunct St. Louis Red River followed, and after the dissolution of the North American leagues, he found himself employed by Dagenham and Redbridge in England’s nPower League 2.

A favor from his colleague, Levi McKinnon, has also left him the coach of the Under-20’s side for the USA.

Leti is still in America, and it remains to be seen if his volatile nature, combined with an almost compulsive need to rip a club apart as he attempts (and, historically at least, fails) to build it in his image, will allow him to stay at Dag & Red long enough for her to consider moving to the UK to be with him.

# # #

“I’m telling you, Leti, he scares me.” She laughed and he felt his mood lighten. “I’m serious. He is … ****. I don’t know. Intense.”

“What’s his name again?”

“I don’t know. He told me to call him Dan, but he shows up in our, whatever, the e-mail thing, as something long. Isaac. Just a sec. Yeah, Isaac. Isaac Dan der Grimnebulin.”

“der what?”

“Grim-ne-bul-in. It’s Belgian. Or, he is. Who the hell knows where the name’s from?”

“And?”

“And he scares me.”

“Terry. You’ve worked with all sorts. Roberto. Alex. You’ll figure it out.”

Terry thought for a moment. “I guess.”

Leti knew the tone meant he remained unconvinced. “But?”

“But I think he may be better than me.”

# # #

Dagenham and Redbridge were struggling. There was no other word for it: dead last in the league with only sixteen games to go, a dispirited squad that was having as much trouble scoring as they were keeping the ball out of their own net.

But Terry had said all of what he thought were the right things in his meetings with the board, promising that he had what it took to keep the side up, and even to ascend through the pyramid in later years. They had asked about his philosophy, and he had promised not to make any drastic changes; they had hinted about his sobriety, and he had reassured them that there was nothing that could distract him from the task at hand.

The truth?

Eight players released. Six in on loan. More to come.

The truth?

Luke Wilkinson being trained as a sweeper. Femi Ilesanmi being pushed up onto the left wing, with Abu Ogogo being forced into the same role on the right.

The truth?

An empty bottle of scotch lying on its side, a spreading welter of sweat beneath the sprawled and snoring form that couldn’t have been bothered to move from the old couch into the small bedroom in the furnished one-bedroom flat.

[Makonnen]

January 1, 2013

Chesterfield @ Dagenham and Redbridge, npower League 2

Dag & Red 0 – Chesterfield 0

Dagger’s Best: Luke Wilkinson

January 5, 2013

Dagenham and Redbridge @ York, npower League 2

York 1 (Jason Walker 29) – Dag & Red 0

Dagger’s Best: Femi Ilesanmi

January 12, 2013

Bristol Rovers @ Dagenham and Redbridge, npower League 2

Dag & Red 1 (Brian Woodall 45+1) – Bristol 0

Dagger’s Best: Luke Wilkinson

January 19, 2013

Cheltenham @ Dagenham and Redbridge, npower League 2

Dag & Red 1 (Sam Williams 53) – Cheltenham 1 (Paul Benson 30)

Dagger’s Best: Sam Williams

January 26, 2013

Dagenham and Redbridge @ Fleetwood, npower League 2

Fleetwood 2 (Barry Nicholson 56p; Steven Gillespie 71) – Dag & Red 1 (Brian Woodall 47)

Dagger’s Best: Brian Woodall

League Position: 23rd of 24, 2 points from safety; 42 points behind Rochdale.

League Goals: Brian Woodall (5); Assists: Dominic Green (4); Rating: Wilkinson (6.95)

Overall Goals: Woodall (5); Assists: Green (4); Rating: Wilkinson (6.87)

# # #

“No, again! Femi! Ryan! You need to move up when we get the ball! Find the space and they’ll find you. Then you turn and get us going!”

Terry’s head hurt and the bleak winter sun wasn’t helping any, leaking through a grimy London sky and reflecting off the buildings that surrounded Dag & Red’s practice ground. That wasn’t quite right. It was field rented of a local Council, with a leaky shed for a changing room and a patch by one corner flag that was a perpetual swamp.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, insistent and annoying, but he ignored it, keeping his arms crossed across his chest, his eyes on the players. The body language was bad. Not everyone, but many. Too many. The heads were down, the movements after each repetition petulant and sharply abbreviated. He caught glances tossed his direction, but he stayed still, wishing his phone would go quiet.

He thought briefly of Leti, of how he hadn’t been able to change a single setting on the damn thing without her help, and how he had almost broke down the first week and hurled it against the wall in frustration. It hadn’t worked since he arrived in England. Something about SIM cards and European networks and other incomprehensible nonsense.

Der Grimnebulin blew his whistle and the players moved in sullen packs to the far sideline, reaching for water bottles. Usually at practice, the players naturally grouped by their positions–attackers over here, defenders huddled together there. Not today, and not for close to a week now: instead Terry noticed the team breaking into factions more or less resistant to the changes he was trying to implement.

His assistant–tall, thin, and somehow exuding an air of elegance despite being clothed in a blue track suit with a motorcar advert splashed across its front–reached his side and the two of them stared across the field in silence.

“No change, huh? Still too many not buying in,” said the Belgian.

They hadn’t talked about the breakdown in the team, but clearly he had noticed. Terry felt vaguely annoyed, and again heard Leti’s voice, heard her encouragement to take advantage of having a skilled resource by his side. He took a deep breath.

“No. No change. And too many of the ones who are, won’t be here.” That may have been Terry’s biggest concern: he had brought in a fair number of players on loan and they–Kyle de Silva, Abedeji Oshilaja, Aryn Williams, Immanuel Parry, and the rest–were all eager to please and were slotting naturally into the positions. But that’s why they had been pursued, after all.

It was the current core of the club that concerned him. Brian Woodall up front, the talented duo of Abu Ogogo and Femi Ilesanmi, young defender Luke Wilkinson. Woodall didn’t care–he was an old-school forward, and didn’t pay attention to much beyond putting the ball in the back of the net and making a cursory contribution on defense and Wilkinson was enthusiastic about playing sweeper–but unlike most defenders, whose draw to the position were merely the frustrated dreams that came from being failed midfielders, he had the skills to succeed from deep.

But Ogogo and Ilesanmi were the keys. Both had gotten by for too long on their athletic instincts, and both had been gradually reduced to the wings, where their speed and occasional aggression could be pointed to as strengths. But Terry needed discipline from his wingbacks as well as pace, he needed them to be strong in the tackle and quick to move the ball upfield. And as far as he could tell, neither player were willing to show the stomach for the job at hand.

“You know what would get them all on board?” Terry arched an inquisitive eyebrow at his assistant, who answered his own question. “Wins. Nothing builds compliance like points.”

Terry felt a flash of anger and only nodded curtly before striding away towards his players. He didn’t need to be reminded of their poor performance or their even worse position in the league. He was pretty sure that was reinforced in whatever messages were waiting on his phone, and he damn well knew that teams that won were better at pretending they liked each other.

Terry blew hard on his whistle and the players dutifully jogged out, slower than he wanted, but still they came, settling into a semi-circle in front of him.

[Makonnen]

February 2, 2013

Dagenham and Redbridge @ Morecambe, npower League 2

Morecambe 2 (Jamie Maclaren 4; Chris Holroyd 74) – Dag & Red 0

Dagger’s Best: Luke Wilkinson

February 13, 2013

Torquay @ Dagenham and Redbridge, npower League 2

Torquay 2 (Billy Bodin 8; Rene Howe 53) - Dag & Red 1 (Brian Woodall 54)

Dagger’s Best: Brian Woodall

February 26, 2013

Southend @ Dagenham and Redbridge, npower League 2

Dag & Red 2 (Sam Williams 4; Abu Ogogo 26) - Southend 0

Dagger’s Best: Scott Doe

An Uphill Battle. February 27, 2013

Terry exited the tube and looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. There was a chemist on one corner and a kebab shop on the other, beyond that he saw a long repetition of small, well-tended gardens fronted by iron gates with two-story structures behind, a series of rose-colored peaked roofs that extended into the evening sky. He stepped out of the flow of people heading home until he saw what he was looking for: there, at the next corner, a dark placard swinging in the breeze above a picnic table set on the broad sidewalk.

Moments later he was seated at a dark corner of The Dancing Turtle, a pint of dark gold liquid in front of him. He sipped it and sat, flipping a small stack of bar coasters over and over in his hands, his mind far away.

The game yesterday was good. But he knew he was fighting an uphill battle: the team was frustrated as ever, and earlier in the week he had to separate Duran Reynolds and Luke Wilkinson in training, and they were still struggling mightily to find the back of the net.

He drained the pint and a pretty young thing with her t-shirt knotted by her hip replaced it with a grin. He thanked her and refused her change, receiving an even larger smile in return.

Terry sighed and squared the pile of coasters, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He clumsily tapped at the screen for a bit and stared at it for several minutes.

You there? Can talk?

The phone was obstinately silent and after another pint it was relegated to a deep pocket of Terry’s coat on the bench by his side.

Several hours later, he leaned unsteadily against a brick wall, wiping a thick string of bile from his chin. His stomach clenched a final time and he checked his jacket, rubbing at one small stain until it disappeared into the dark weave of the wool. He wet his lips and stood another moment, gathering himself before striding, with only a slight sway to his step down, and into the tube station.

In his seat, hunched over with his head in his hands, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He clumsily fished it out and stared at the screen, where a picture of Leti appeared, a huge, white-toothed smile on her face, a bright orange cloth tied around her broad forehead. He considered answering, but just stared at her image until it disappeared.

On the train back home, he would close his eyes and see her there, her smile and her bright eyes floating beneath a swath of impossibly orange fabric, an afterimage that he could not shake. Her eyes were warm at first, but by the time he stumbled up the stairs to his flat, dropping the keys twice on the way, they were darkly disapproving, and he fell asleep on the couch, draped in an inexplicable guilt.

# # #

League Position: 24th of 24, 2 points from safety; 41 points behind Bradford.

League Goals: Brian Woodall (6); Assists: Dominic Green (4); Rating: Abu Ogogo (6.95)

Overall Goals: Woodall (6); Assists: Green (4); Rating: Luke Wilkinson (6.87)

[Makonnen]

March 2, 2013

Wycombe @ Dagenham and Redbridge, npower League 2

Dag & Red 2 (Brian Woodall 68, 90+2) – Wycombe 2 (Matt McCLure 73; Bruno Andrade 86)

Dagger’s Best: Brian Woodall

March 9, 2013

Dagenham and Redbridge @ Gillingham, npower League 2

Gillingham 2 (Danny Kedwell 76, 87p) - Dag & Red 1 (Brian Woodall 6)

Dagger’s Best: Brian Woodall & Scott Doe

March 12, 2013

Dagenham and Redbridge @ Port Vale, npower League 2

Port Vale 1 (Daniel Jones 29) - Dag & Red 0

Dagger’s Best: Luke Wilkinson, Andy Iro & Scott Doe

March 16, 2013

Rotherham @ Dagenham and Redbridge, npower League 2

Dag & Red 1 (Brian Woodall 50) - Rotherham 1 (Michael O’Connor 85)

Dagger’s Best: Kyle de Silva & Scott Doe

March 20, 2013

Dave Andrews and Steve Thompson sat on one side of the small conference room, the former impassive, the latter obviously and even exaggeratedly annoyed. On the other side sat the hulking form of Tom Wade, Dagenham and Redbridge’s Director of Football. A mismatched set of filing cabinets lined one wall, their side dented from an altercation long relegated to club mythos, only leaving room for three chairs, so the tall figure of Isaac Dan der Grimnebulin stood just inside the doorway, his hands crossed in front of him with an easy grace that seemed at odds with his tall, thin shape. Der Grimnebulin was all lanky sharp angles draped in fashions that were last popular decades ago: the fob of a pocketwatch could be seen hanging from the edge of his neatly tailored vest, his mustache was waxed to fine points on either side.

Thompson eyed him with something akin to suspicion and without introduction demanded, “Well?”

“Sir?”

“Don’t bloody well sir me, Isaac. What do you think of him?” Isaac glanced sideways to catch Wade’s slight nod of the head. “Don’t you look at him. If I ask, you’ll answer by God.”

With a slight incline of his head, der Grimnebulin replied “Sir. He,” and then he paused.

Isaac wasn’t sure why, but he liked Langford. He liked his intensity, his sudden flashes of humor which always seemed unexpected given the usual crease in his brow. But there were concerns: the acrid smell of alcohol that crept beneath the constant mint of whatever he used to cover his breath, and more than that, the sense that he carried along with him a heavy anchor, some dark beast that swam in endless circles far beneath the surface, a tether reaching up through the murky water in small and precise arcs, always threatening to pull Terry into the depths.

And the team was struggling.

From Isaac’s perspective, it was almost like he was intentionall trying to teach them to be schizophrenic. In practice, he would drill them over and over about sweepers and wingbacks, demanding more technique and vision from the defense than most of them possessed, but in games he played a more standard system, tending even towards five at the back, leading to passive, disjointed, and uninspired performances.

He had tasked Isaac with teaching a narrow front three. He had done his best and while Woodall was clearly responding–and enjoying the relative freedom from defensive responsibilities–it was a struggle. Far too often, they were a broken team, with no communication or linkage between the defense and the offense.

Isaac didn’t mind the system. But he was deeply aware that, at least currently, the Daggers lacked the personnel it required. Of particular concern was the sense of historical pattern: Isaac had done his homework on the new coach and it seemed he had done the same thing in South Africa, in Italy, and in America, walking into a situation, demanding a change in the tactical approach of the team, and then being fired before it really took root. It spoke of an ultimate lack of flexibility and perhaps even a denial of reality on the Irishman’s part.

Isaac looked at Thompson and Andrews for a moment and swallowed.

“He has good ideas and he wants to do something tactically different. When we get it right, we’ll be a handful: other teams aren’t used to it.”

Thompson sneered. “They’ll catch up soon enough.”

Andrews raised a hand slightly. “Steve, enough. We said we’d give him the chance.”

“He’s going to get us ****ing relegated.”

Andrews shrugged. “Perhaps. We handed him the club on the edge of the cliff. We need to be ready for the tumble. But,” he continued, turning to fix his gaze on der Grimnebulin, “you didn’t really answer the question. What do you think of him?”

Isaac shrugged. “It’s been weeks, and he’s still finding his way around. He’s smart, he works hard, he’s creative.”

“Do you like him?”

“What does that matter?”

“It doesn’t. Do you like him?”

Isaac repressed another shrug, answering simply, “I do.”

March 30, 2013

Dagenham and Redbridge @ Barnet, npower League 2

Dag & Red 2 (Kyle de Silva 34, Brian Woodall 55) – Barnet 0

Dagger’s Best: Medy Elito & Andy Iro

“It was good, Leti, that’s all I’m saying. It was good.” Terry’s voice was steady and unslurred, and he was proud of that given the number of bottles that lined the small table in his makeshift kitchen. He reached for another and pressed the cap into his hand to muffle the sound as he twisted it open, its ridges digging into his palm. He stared for a moment at the red half moon dug into his pale flesh.

“You still there?”

Leti’s voice seemed small and far away when she answered, and the pauses between what she said threatened to engulf the two of them. “I am. Terry. How long have you been drinking?”

Terry tossed the bottlecap in the air and caught it. “All my life.”

“No, Terry. Tonight. How long tonight?”

# # #

League Position: 23rd of 24, 1 point from safety (trailing Aldershot by one goal); 44 points behind Rochdale.

League Goals: Brian Woodall (11); Assists: Dominic Green (4); Rating: Scott Doe (6.95)

Overall Goals: Woodall (11); Assists: Green (4); Rating: Scott Doe (6.88)