il Mago - Remembering Alfredo (GHC)

Luis Suárez - The first time I met him was the day after he took over at Ajax. Everyone knew that he was the new manager, but none of us had heard of him and a few of the senior players weren’t exactly happy with the appointment. He couldn’t even speak Dutch.

Jorge Andrade - I’d been without a club for a while, my contract at Juventus had been terminated because of my injury problems so I was delighted when I got the opportunity to sign up with Ajax. I’d heard of Alfredo, he was on the coaching staff at Torino, but I’d never met him. I was his first signing as a manager, sometimes I think he only brought me in because he needed someone who spoke Italian.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….an absolutely horrific start that saw them fall behind within 21 minutes, only to equalise, take the lead and then concede three second half goals and lose 4 - 2. Topsy turvy is a nice way of describing Alfredo Dick’s start to life with Ajax, the hardcore would call it embarrassing and just what the board ordered when they hired a nobody…..

Posted 03.08.09

February 3rd 2024

Danny, Jorge and Mo stared back across the table at me, they didn’t know what to say, I don’t think they wanted to believe it. All three had been faithful servants, friends that I would happily trust with my life, there was a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.

“We still have work to do, Fredo, don’t you want to finish the job?” Danny offered, grasping at straws.

I shook my head. “I’m tired, too tired, perhaps if we had stayed in Spain I would think differently, but I’m too old for England”.

“If it’s the newspapers we can protect you, we can do the PR and you can focus on the club.” Mo’s heart was in the right place.

“I’ve made up my mind and you have no idea how much your support means to me, but I just don’t want this life anymore. The game has changed, this isn’t Amsterdam or Morocco, this is Manchester and the expectations are too high, I don’t feel like I love the game anymore.”

There was a brief silence, “What happens now?”, Jorge, professional as always.

“Now I let the board know, which I’m not looking forward to, but I suspect one or two might be glad.”

“Idiots.” Danny slammed his fist onto the arm of the chair.

“They’ll expect an explanation, eight months into a four year contract and you’re jumping ship.” Mo was right.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, now we have work to do and games to win.”

“They’ll miss you, you know.” Mo’s voice cracked as he said it.

“Who?”

“Everybody.”

“I know.”

They were right, the players would miss me, the staff would miss me, the fans would miss me, but not half as much as I would miss them. This was the beginning of the end of a fifteen year career that had started in Amsterdam and would end in Manchester.

Luis Suárez - To start with he played me on the right, that didn’t win him any fans, I wasn’t too chuffed either, but it was needs must and we didn’t have anyone else who could play on the right. Money was tight and Alfredo was forced to sell, the squad got weaker and he couldn’t replace those who left, that first season was all about him, the only thing separating us from the others was his philosophy.

Jan Vertonghen - He understood my concerns and he urged me to stay, he was sure that Ajax could live up to my expectations, but I wasn’t and the last time I spoke to him was when he told me that he had agreed a fee with Sporting Lisbon. Do I regret it? No, I had a great career.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….it makes up for the opening game, but it will take more than a 2 - 1 win against our main title rivals to get the fans back on the Dick bandwagon. The 91st minute winner from Demy De Zeeuw should boost confidence and we all have bragging rights over PSV fans, but there‘s a long, long way to go…..

Posted 16.08.09

Good work, El. I'd love to see a summary of your attempt at the challenge, a year on.

Lovin' it so far, El. Is this based on the career you posted in the Career Updates forum? The whole "Suarez on the right" thing sounds eerily familiar .

Indeed it is based on my career update, which covers a majority of my career if anyone is interested. This story will cover two areas, the main text will be the final season/stage of the challenge and the bits in between will be players and staff remembering earlier parts of the career, so it should cover the whole career, but only one seaosn will be covered in any depth.

Glad to have a couple of readers on board already

Let’s rewind, back to the beginning of the beginning of the end and it’s July 10th 2023. Twelve months earlier, to the day , I had been carried around the Beijing National Stadium on the shoulders of players who believed that I was to thank for one of the greatest achievements in international football history. It had been twenty five years since Morocco had qualified for a World Cup, nobody had expected us to do quite so well, but that story will come on another day.

Yes, it’s July 2023 and after a year away from the game, bored and irritable, I was itching to get back. There had been one or two tentative enquiries during my holiday, Atlético Madrid had come knocking twice, but I had no desire to pit my wits against the powerhouses of Barcelona and Real, again. I had no desire to return home, no desire to try France or Germany and I could never stomach managing anyone other than Ajax in Holland, England was my only option.

The previous season in England had been one to forget for Manchester City, going into their final four games of the season they had two games in hand on Chelsea and were level on points. Somehow Pep Guardiola’s men managed to lose their two games in hand and ended the season level on points, in second place thanks to goals conceded. The Spaniard resigned before he was pushed and I saw the chance I had been waiting for, I arranged to meet Khaldoon Al Mubarak and travelled to Manchester to discuss terms.

The meeting started well and everything seemed to be going to plan until Al Mubarak asked me about what I wanted, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, set it on the table and slid it towards him. He opened it and his brow furrowed as he read it;

“What’s this?” He asked.

“That’s what I need to do this job.”

He set the page back on the table and pushed it towards me, “We can discuss that later.”

I lifted the page, folded it again and pushed it back into my pocket before standing and offering my hand, “Thankyou for your time.” Al Mubarak looked stunned, he jumped to his feet,

“What do you think you are doing?”

“I’m sorry Mr Al Mubarak, but I told you what I needed to do this job and it must be in place before I can agree to anything.”

“Are you mad? We’re offering you millions to spend and millions to earn, you’re going to throw all that away for a few names on a list?”

“That’s what I need Mr Al Mubarak and if I can’t have it then I’m afraid I’m not interested.” My heart thumped in my chest.

I exited Eastland’s with Al MuBarak’s rant still ringing in my ears, perhaps England wasn’t for me. There was a taxi waiting for me outside the ground and I made my way towards it, edging in backwards and not noticing the man waiting for me in the backseat.

“Hello Mr Dick.”

“Jesus Christ,” I grabbed my chest as I sat down, “who the hell are you?”

“My name is John Lynch, I hope I’m not being presumptuous in thinking that you know who I represent.”

“I know who you represent, but what do you want?”

“Two hours ago Eric Abidal resigned his position with my club and I want to know what it will take to have you replace him.”

I smiled and reached into my pocket, pulled out the paper and handed it to him, “You get me them, in your office at 12pm tomorrow and I’m your man.”

It was Lynch’s turn to smile, “Done.”

George Ogararu - There were one or two mutterings, usually from the players who weren’t getting games, but most of us were right behind him, he believed in us and we believed in him.

Jorge Andrade - He was the best man manager I ever worked with, I’ve lost count of how many people have said that to me. He talked you through everything, he inspired everyone he met. Time and again he turned a game on it’s head with a half time team talk, only the true greats can do that.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….humiliation doesn’t even cover half of it, losing to a Belgian club is embarrassing beyond belief. Dick had the nerve to call it a tough group, seriously? Club Brugge, Partizan Belgrade and Sivasspor are all lesser teams and there can be no excuses for a paltry one point from our opening two games…..

Posted 02.10.09

12pm the following day, I looked to my left and then my right, Lynch had kept his promise and the names on my list sat by my side, facing Lynch and the club lawyer’s. Danny Blind, my assistant at Ajax, he had resisted my calls to join me at Valencia, but another summer had passed with him being overlooked for the Amsterdam job and I felt sure that he wouldn’t turn this offer down. Wim Jonk, since day one he had been by my side, following me to Spain and Morocco, I already knew his answer. Marc Guitart and Luis Pascual, both had been at Valencia when I arrived and both resigned their position when I left, as loyal and committed as they come.

Then there were the former players, Jorge Andrade, 15 years is a long time to know somebody, it’s an even longer to respect somebody. Mo Diarra, the man that made the difference all those years ago, fifteen years on he’s as important off the pitch as he was on it. Jonathan Spector, the big American had been a bit part player at Valencia, but when I needed him he delivered, it was time to repay him. Finally, Paul Konchesky, he had played just eight games for me at Ajax in the twilight of his career, but he gave his all in every single game and scored probably the greatest goal I have ever seen, against Feyenoord in a Dutch Cup Semi Final.

These were my men, my army, what I needed to make it work.

“So, do we have a deal?” Lynch pushed the contract towards me.

I looked left, then right, again. “Do we?” One by one they nodded.

“It looks like we do, Mr Lynch.” I signed the paper and pushed it back towards him.

Lynch smiled, “Fantastic. None of you need to worry about your employers, we’ll sort that out. Why don’t you take a look around? I’ll have someone take you to the training ground as soon as possible. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Lynch, followed by his lawyers, made his way out, smiling all the while.

There was silence for what felt like minutes, but was really only a matter of seconds, eventually Paul spoke, “Well I didn’t see that coming!”, everyone burst out laughing. I struggled to contain my delight smiling as I watched them pat each other’s backs and embrace each other, I made my way to the huge glass window on the other side of the room and looked down at the pitch.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Danny put his arm across my shoulder.

“It really is something else.”

Staring back at us from the stand opposite, white on red were the words Manchester United.

Jorge Andrade - He was fiercely loyal, but professionally loyal. Whichever side he was with was his favourite side and he wouldn’t have a bad word said about them, the same went for players, he always defended them, even if they were in the wrong. Of course he dealt with them behind closed doors, but that’s the way it should be.

Luis Suárez - I don’t think he had his favourites, no. Everyone was given a chance to impress, more often than not they were given more than one chance; I remember Albin Ekdal saying a bit too much in a magazine interview, he was dropped for a few games, but as soon as he recognised his mistake he was back in the first team. There were one or two who thought they knew better, but they didn’t last long.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….It was definitely the best performance of the season, Feyenoord didn‘t know what had hit them and couldn’t deal with wave after wave of attack. Before the game I worried that Dick had set the team up too offensively, but he was vindicated with a fantastic display that finally sees us claim top spot…..

Posted 02.11.09

Interesting structure in the early stages

Alfredo Dick isn't the most cultured name I've heard about on the continent, but if he gets results....

*Thanks Scott Alfredo Dick is a recurring character in most of my stories/saves, means I don;t have to spend time trying to think of a new manager name.*

***

The Manager’s office was surprisingly small and minimal. One relatively large desk with a computer on one side, desk tidy and telephone on the other, a glass and jug of water in the centre, one filing cabinet that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years and two pictures hanging on the wall behind the desk, Sir Alex and Sir Matt watching over whoever filled their seat.

The thing that struck me most about the room was that there was nowhere for anyone else to sit, there was one armchair behind the desk, but that was it. Were visitors expected to stand? Of course they were, an instant psychological edge for the man in charge. I wondered who had come up with it, the obvious answer seemed to be Ferguson, either way, that’s not how I manage and one of Danny’s first tasks for the club would be finding a couple of comfortable chairs for my office.

I slowly edged around the table and dropped into the armchair behind it, swinging round to look up at the two greatest managers in the club’s magnificent history. Eleven Championship titles, eleven domestic cups and three European cups between them, suddenly it dawned on me. Realising your dreams and enjoying your football in an environment that doesn’t expect is one thing, but this wasn’t Amsterdam or Valencia, I wasn’t going to be given a “continental qualification” ultimatum. There was no chance of me “over performing”, I had to deliver, for the first time in my career there would be serious expectations. All of a sudden the expressions of the two men in the pictures seemed to change, their eyes boring into me and my mouth dried.

As if on cue there was a knock on the office door, I spun round, too quickly having to steady myself by grabbing the desk.

“Come in.” I croked as I reached for jug and poured myself a drink.

“Thought you’d want to have a look at these.” Danny poked his head round the door and held a few sheets of paper in the air. I raised my eyebrows as if to ask what they were and he pushed the door open wider, approaching the table, “you’ve got one page worth of first team report, one page worth of youth team reports and one page worth of potential targets”. He dropped the pages onto the table in front of me and paused, “No chairs?”

I laughed and explained my theory, Danny just shook his head, “Let me guess, you want me to find you some?” he knew me too well.

I shuffled the pages around, arranging them in order of importance; I would be starting with the first team. My eyes rolled in my head as I read through the report, this team was poor, really poor, which was disappointing, but had the potential to be a godsend. There were a handful of first teamers who demanded a first team place, but for the most part they were backup, squad rotation fodder who would warm the bench, anyone who didn’t start or warm the bench was expendable.

Two deals had already been struck, Ian Wilkinson, a promising youth product had agreed terms with Lazio and Renan, an aging right back had agreed terms with Burnley. Milan Badelj, a Croatian midfielder was in talks with Spurs about a possible £800k move, he was 35 and well past his best. The final two deals that were pending were Steven Hewitt to Fulham and Miguel Angel Rebollo to Burnley, the offers were £450k and £6.25m respectively. Nothing too serious and nothing that commanded too much thought, but there were two names that stood out, neither had offers in for them and neither seemed likely to make my team.

Johnny Evans and Danny Welbeck were the final remnants of the Ferguson era. Fourteen years on and still going strong the pair had 700 league appearances between them, they bled red and adored the club, but both were the wrong side of thirty and both were earning handsome six figure salaries, that sort of money could come in handy. I took a moment to think things through, should I really do this, could I really do it? I would be risking my relationship with the fans and my tenure wasn’t even one week old. I shook myself, what was I thinking, the club comes before the player and never vice versa. I lifted the telephone and dialled for reception.

“As soon as Danny gets the chairs sorted can you send Johnny Evans and Danny Welbeck up to my office? Thanks.”

Urby Emanuelson – I think most of the squad were surprised to see him keep his job come January, the table was really tight, but fourth place wasn’t good enough and the fans were on his back. In my opinion the only reason he survived was that our European form had picked up and we had somehow managed to top our group.

Mo Diarra – I met Alfredo for the first time on January 1st 2010, it was a strange meeting because I arrived thinking that I was there to discuss a loan deal with Ajax, but found myself at a buffet lunch with four other potential signings, Ljajic, Tosic, Maduro and Ekdal. Alfredo sat us all down and chatted to us, it was very informal, very relaxed, I’m not sure how he did it, but by the end of the meal all five of us had agreed terms, no agents present.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….what will it take to make the board see what we see and now we’re handing him money, money that could be better spent by a new manager on a new system! Heracles are above us in the table! I never thought I’d see the day…..

Posted 01.01.10

The meeting with Welbeck and Evans had been more difficult than I expected, I met with the players individually and explained my concerns regards money and the potential for improvement if some of the money they were earning was freed up for new signings. They had two options sign a new deal for considerably less pay or move on. Welbeck didn’t think twice, he looked me square in the eyes and told me what he thought of the offer, I respected his honesty, but not his choice of language. Johnny’s reaction was a little more emotional.

“Will I play?” His eyes welled with tears as he said it and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

“You won’t be first choice, but over the course of a season I’m sure you’ll get your fair share of games.”

I had broken similar news to various players during my career, but I had never told someone that they weren’t needed by the club they had called home for almost twenty years, it didn’t feel good. Unfortunately a “fair share of games” wasn’t enough for the Ulsterman and he decided that it would be best for him to move on in the hope of extending his career. As he left my office I glanced over my shoulder at the pictures on the wall, my skin crawled as I considered what they might think of what I had just done.

Three days later and the deals were done; Johnny to Burnley for £875k and guaranteed first team football and Welbeck to Chelsea for £3m and a starting place up front for one of our strongest rivals. The reaction from the fans was to be expected, Johnny’s exit had been coming and nobody thought that he would last forever, most were glad that he had secured a deal that would keep him in the top flight, on the other hand Welbeck’s exit caused a stir.

One set of fans were disgusted that one of their favourite players had agreed terms with their rival, how could he do it? The other set were disgusted that I had sold one of their favourite players to a rival, how could I do it? But both sets of fans were united in concern about how I might improve the club and whether or not I could replace those who had exited. I didn’t share their concerns; I was the only person in Manchester that knew how much Lynch had given me to work with.

Lynch had pulled some strings to make sure that the board agreed to release 100% of transfer funds generated for me to add to my budget, which was great, but really not necessary as the same board had agreed an extremely generous transfer kitty of £50m to start with. That £50m plus the £11.5m raised through sales meant that I had plenty of leeway when it came to negotiations, but better than that it meant that I didn’t have to settle for second best and could focus on players that would improve the team now and not two years down the line.

Three years earlier I had left Valencia on a high, they were rightly considered the best team in Europe, probably the world, which made their decision to dismantle my squad all the more surprising. Players who had played a vital role in my success struggled to get games and one by one they moved on to pastures new, two of them were on Danny’s list of potential targets.

Slavko Horvat was a 22 year old plying his trade in the centre of Celta Vigo’s defence when I came across him in the summer of 2019, by the end of his first season with Valencia he had been named “Bargain Purchase Of The Year”. He was a regular international for Croatia and the fans adored him, but only five years later he was struggling to get a game for a poor Paris St Germain side. Danny suggested a bid of £3.8m, I scribbled over it and wrote £5m.

The story of Ross Bean was almost identical. Signed in 2019 the Ghanaian defensive midfielder had steadied a shaky midfield and become Africa’s best player in the process, the Atletico Madrid reserves was no place for a player of his quality and rumour had it that his release clause was a paltry £3m.

I didn’t want to become one of those managers who signs all his lovies, living in the past and relying on his old employer’s cast offs, but there was one last player from Valencia that I was desperate to bring in. In the summer of 2018 Jorge had travelled to his home country for the under eighteen World Cup, he came back raving about a young Brazilian left back who was currently with Palmeiras. Three years later that same young left back, Da Silva, was the star of the show in the Champions League final. Regardless of price, he would be my left back come August 17th.

Danny would deal with Ross and Slavko, I couldn’t see either of them turning me down, but the Da Silva deal would be tougher, there weren’t many who would substitute Valencia for Manchester. I hadn’t spoken to anyone from my old club since I had left and I hadn’t left on bad terms, but there was one reason for my apprehension as I lifted the telephone to call them. The man I had to speak to was the man who had replaced me, the same man who had replaced me at Ajax and the man that journalists claimed was living in my shadows, Dolf Roks.

Ross Bean \o/

This could be very interesting. The quality of the writing is high, and I'm sure everybody reading identifies with Dick (though possibly not through personal experience).

*Many thanks, SCIAG. This is one of my favourite ever FM saves, I was so into it that I felt as if Alfredo Dick was real Probably helps with the story too, i'm really enjoying writing it.*

***

Luis Suarez – The arrival of Tosic freed me to move up front and we shifted to a conventional 4-4-2, I was happier and Alfredo was happier, until that point he had been making do and now he felt like he could actually mould the team.

Zoran Tosic – I won three European Cups with Inter and played under Jose Mourinho and Pep Guardiola, but those six months in Amsterdam are right up there as one of the most enjoyable parts of my career. I had had a rough time at United, not getting many games and I wasn’t match fit, but Alfredo had faith in me. My first game for the club and I asked him if he had any special instructions for me, “enjoy yourself” he was something else.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….what a difference a month and money makes, in the space of eight days we’ve jumped from fourth place to top and the wins couldn’t have come much bigger. Tosic looks like an inspired piece of business from Dick, a hat trick and three assists in two games, let’s hope this is the turning point…..

Posted 31.01.10

Roks’ reaction to my enquiry had been symptomatic of the man; all he was interested in was how much he could get and when the fee was finally agreed he couldn’t even tell me how to contact Da Silva. For Roks footballers were employees, paid to play and best seen, but not heard, we were polar opposites.

The fee was hefty, £15m of my budget gone in one fell swoop, but Da Silva was worth every penny, imaginative, quick, sturdy in defence and a real handful in attack. The only problem would be convincing him to give up his bachelor pad in the centre of one of Europe’s most beautiful cities and an average temperature of seventy-two degrees, in favour of a bachelor pad in Chester (at best) and an average temperature of fifty-five degrees.

He arrived, agent by his side and greeted me with the warmest of smiles and strongest of hugs, I was still the man who had given him his “big” break and believed in him despite a rocky start to life at Valencia. The meeting began well, but conversation eventually turned to the area that I thought might break the deal. Why would he leave a club he loved to come to a club that offered nothing more than a bigger stadium? I could see his point, the previous season both Valencia and United had finished fifth in the league, exited their domestic cup in the fifth round and managed a Quarter Final appearance in the Champions League, the only thing separating them was climate and stadium.

Whilst I understood his concerns I wondered how much of the concern had been fed by the agent and even though I respected Da Silva I knew that money talked.

“£120,000 per week.” I said it calmly, but my heart raced, this wasn’t a negotiation, this was all my cards on the table in one go and if he didn’t accept, the deal was off. “£120,000 per week,” I repeated, “and I guarantee that we will finish higher in the league and go further in Europe than Valencia.”

They both looked at me, the agent drummed his fingers on the table and Da Silva stared at me, his mouth open slightly, gobsmacked. In the space of thirty minutes I had offered him a deal that would triple his current contract and guaranteed something that I couldn’t really guarantee. There was a pause, Da Silva glanced at the agent who took a long hard blink, his eyes closed for a second or more, a sign. Da Silva turned towards me and smiled, the deal was done and I’d got my man.

Three areas of the first team were now covered, Horvat and Bean had jumped at the chance to link up with me again, though the offer of first team football was perhaps the biggest selling point, but the squad was still extremely weak. Danny, Jorge and I met to discuss the remaining budget and the areas of the team that we should focus on; the news wasn’t good and the consensus was that a majority of the remaining transfer budget of £38.5m would have to be spent. It didn’t help that we needed to fill, or cover six positions. Over the next week and a half we poured over every scout report available and watched hours of video sent to us by eager agents, offers were made and deals were done.

The first to arrive was Ruben Benitez, a 24 year old Cypriot goalkeeper who had spent the previous four years wowing crowds in Turkey as he helped Fenerbache to three straight titles. He was an excellent prospect, but was considered an eccentric and after coming out of his box for a ball he would never get to, once too often, he found himself transfer listed. £4.1m was a bargain for a player that could only get better and had a majority of his career in front of him.

Benitez would have to get to know Dave Boons and Castro pretty quickly, the pair would cover central defence alongside Horvat, but Boons would be first choice. The big burly Dutch centre back would compliment Horvat perfectly and recently relegated Racing were happy to accept my offer of £3.4m. Castro was another Brazilian prospect, just 21, but more than capable of filling in when needed, he arrived from Levante for £2.3m. The final purchase from Spain was Paulista, similar to Castro he would act as cover more than anything else, filling in when Da Silva needed a rest, Numancia accepted my offer of £2.2m and a further £1m when he won his first cap for Spain.

The final two positions were perhaps the most important, another midfielder to play alongside Bean and a striker to lead the line. I had been keeping an eye on the number of home grown players in my squad and a majority of those who were with the club and would be staying were English, but none of my signings had been English, so I decided to focus on home grown talent. Unfortunately English players purchased by English clubs usually command quite a high price tag; Stephen Rose and Nathan Shepherd were no different.

Rose was a full international when he made the shock decision to move from Bolton to Besiktas, his international career had disappeared and Danny believed that he was desperate to come home and try to stake a claim for the European Championship’s squad. He might have been desperate to return, but Besiktas weren’t eager to lose one of their best players and it took some time and a lot of bartering for us to eventually agree a deal. £10.25m was enough to get him on a flight home and into my central midfield.

Nathan Shepherd was the final piece of the puzzle, an out and out striker that could play up front as a lone forward and link up with the likes of Gibson and El Shaarawy. He had everything, pace, strength, a ferocious shot and an accurate header, he could dribble and he could pass, all of which made his lack of Premiership experience even more surprising. The wrong side of 25 he had international class written all over him, but he had managed only 37 top flight appearances during five seasons with Everton, now he was plugging away with mid table Championship side Bristol City, what a waste. He was bound to be interested in joining United, but City were out to push me for every penny they could get and the football world raised an eyebrow when I announced our capture of a Championship striker for £8.75m, they thought I had overpaid and had better options. The stage was set for him to prove them wrong.

It was early August and my tinkering was complete, it was time for me to turn my attentions to preparation for the first game of the season and a race against time to help a brand new first team gel.

Jorge Andrade – There were still a few naysayers; some believed that his approach was too negative, but most realised that his approach was needs must and with a team full of defensive talent he had been forced to play defensive football. Either way, nobody could argue that it wasn’t effective and we just kept going from strength to strength.

Luis Suarez – Between 30th November and 1st April we lost once, away to a very strong Toulouse side in the Europa League, we thumped them 3-0 in the return leg. In the space of four months we had gone from challengers to leaders and we were still in with a chance in Europe.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….Is Dick the reason for the improvement? It’s too early to tell. There’s no doubt that his signings have made a massive difference, Diarra in particular has been sensational, but I can’t help feeling that we wouldn’t be enjoying ourselves quite so much if wasn’t for the fact that our main rivals are having poor seasons of their own …..

Posted 31.03.10

Nice work here Elrithral. Enjoying the innovative style.

*Crouchy, many thanks for your kind words *

***

I’ve been to many, many board meetings, but it never ceases to amaze me how little the men who control football know about football. Valencia’s board were no different to Ajax’s and Manchester United’s board would be no different to either, success was the name of the game and it didn’t matter to them how them came about it. Of course, success is always the name of the game, even for us managers, but we want success because it is the pinnacle, they want success because it lines their pockets. That’s a very cynical view, isn’t it? In retrospect I suppose I entered the boardroom at Old Trafford with my eyes closed and unwilling to open them, but in retrospect I wish I had never even entered the room.

I said earlier that all boards are the same, but there was one big difference at United that I wasn’t used to and hadn’t experienced before, the amount of people on the board. Ten years earlier, 2014, the United fans had finally got their wish and the Glazers had been removed, Lynch was behind the deal and at the time was heralded as the saviour of the club. However, as time progressed it became clear that Lynch was just the new face of old debt, slowly but surely new investors were found and each one commanded a place on the board. Upon entering that boardroom I was faced with 12 board members, all of them, regardless of investment, believing that they were more important than the others. Then there was Lynch.

Calling him the new face of old debt was a tad harsh, Lynch had made sure that money was spent and that was more than could be said of his predecessors, but there was no doubting that he was just the face of the board and didn’t have much actual sway when it came to decision making. The fans thought as much, but within seconds of him trying to start the meeting I knew as much.

“Ahem, gentlemen please….” His call for silence was lost in the hubbub created by blaggards spouting execuspeak. “Gentlemen”, he smiled nervously at me as he repeated himself, they ignored him again and continued to chat amongst themselves. “Gentlemen”, a third time and enough was enough, I lifted a pen that was sitting on the table, stood, leaned forward and rattled the pens metal clip against the glass jug of water in the middle of the table. The twang of metal on glass rang out and I had their attention, brows furrowed and mouths pursed, I sat back down, looked at Lynch and held out my hand as if to say “go ahead”. Lynch blanched, “Um…eh…gentlemen, please..um, perhaps we should get started.” One by one they sat, the odd couple exchanged whispered words and followed them up with glances in my direction. The meeting began and I remained a passive observer for as long as possible.

After a stuttering start Lynch found his feet and regained his confidence, questions were fired in his direction and he dealt with them well, from his answers it was obvious that he had the club’s best interests at heart and that pleased me, it seemed to please a majority of the board. If it hadn’t been for Mitchell and Hewitt, Lynch could have been a perfect chairman.

You could tell from looking at them that Michael Mitchell and Robert Hewitt were men used to getting their own way. After the meeting and thanks to enquiries I had Mo make for me, I discovered that both men were big hitters in the construction industry and both were renowned for the quantity and lack of quality in their housing developments. They had bought into United at the same time, both offering money for sales that never materialised, but with their foot in the door and a place on the board there was no getting rid of them.

They peppered Lynch with questions about the latest sponsorship deal, seemingly unhappy that he had decided to accept a lower offer and lesser deal, simply because the company offering it was British. “I’m building an image of Manchester Untied that will replace that generated by the Glazers, the fans want to see us give something back to Britain”. Mitchell and Hewitt continued to disagree, it wasn’t an argument, it felt more like a scolding.

Suddenly, out of nowhere. “What do you think, Dick?” The emphasise on my surname was obvious, but Mitchell’s smirk disappeared when I replied. “I’m sorry, I listened to you talking at John, but I didn’t catch your name. Who are you?” Hewitt’s eyes widened, Mitchell’s face reddened, they both sat upright.

“I’m Michael Mitchell, your new boss.” The smirk returned.

“Ah, Mr Mitchell, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I trust my first month in the job has been to your liking, otherwise you would have shown an interest before now.”

“Shown an interest?” His nostrils flared as he spat the words out.

“Excuse me, I mean contacted me. My English is a little rusty.”

“What’s all this nonsense I hear about posters on doors and three legged five aside?” Hewitt waded in, referring to aspects of my management that had been well documented and roundly criticised despite their success.

On arriving at Valencia I had been welcomed by a team filled with talent that lacked confidence and didn’t play as a team, my first task had been to get them to work together and trust each other. My first attempt was simple, during my opening home game as manager I went to the stands and took a picture of the youngest supporter, the next game the players were greeted by a poster of that picture with the words “FOR HIM” underneath it. Each player, first team and sub was made to hold the badge on their shirt and recite the words as they exited for the tunnel.

My second attempt was to have the player’s tied together at the ankles, like a three legged race and split into teams for a game of five aside. To start with they had fallen over each other and struggled to stay on their feet, by the end they were working together and playing as a team. Both ideas worked and the team grew stronger as a result, but nobody other than myself believed that either was a factor in our success.

“I’m sure you’ve read all about it in the newspapers, Mr….” Hewitt’s phone cut me off and he lifted it from the desk and held it to his ear. He stared straight into my eyes; “Ah, Dolf, thanks for getting back to me.”

I was still holding the pen, the metal clip nipped my fingers as I crushed it in my hand.

Jorge Andrade – The win against RKC clinched the title in my first season with the club, it was a great feeling and there was no doubt in my mind who we had to thank for it. Celebrations were put on hold for a week or two, until the end of the season, but I know for a fact that even before the final game of the season Alfredo was in negotiations with potential signings, he never stopped.

Luis Suarez – I still can’t quite understand how we lost that semi, Valencia got two relatively early goals, but after that they did nothing and we were all over them. I pulled one back, but they got men behind the ball and closed the game out. The title win was nice, but a European final would have been great.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….I suppose we should all be eating humble pie, the turn around since the winter break has been sensational and the European run was beyond any of our dreams, but the proof will be in next seasons pudding and how we fair in the Champions League. Given his success on the transfer front I pray to God that they give him money!…..

Posted 04.05.10

This is brilliant stuff, Elrithral And it's a very similar style to how I'm rewriting my Michael Strang story; clearly great minds think alike.

*Wow, high praise indeed, many thanks. Just to point out that I did it first though, so you'd definitely be ripping off my idea *

The remainder of the meeting passed without incident, Hewitt’s mobile phone giving everyone a chance to take a break and calm down, there were one or two glances exchanged, but not enough to keep anyone hanging around when Lynch eventually called time on proceedings.

Hewitt had, my sources told me, implied that the phone call with Dolf was more sinister than it actually had been, Roks was merely enquiring about a property that he had recently purchased from Hewitt and in doing so showing everyone that he had as much savvy in the property market as he did in the transfer market. It was a cheap trick and had shown Hewitt up for exactly the type of man he was, but it had worked and it had pushed my buttons. I’m sure he would have allowed himself a little smirk had he caught sight of me slamming the door behind me as I entered my office. I threw myself into my seat and cupped my chin in my palm, rubbing it slowly and pulling on either cheek with my thumb and fingers. I sighed as I reached forward and lifted the telephone, then poured myself a glass of water having asked reception to send Paul up as soon as he was free.

He mustn’t have been busy, the Nurofen I had dropped into my glass was still fizzing when my door opened, I motioned for him to take a seat and explained the situation, he nodded and added a single “sneaky bastard” before second guessing my plans.

“You want me to see what I can find out about these two?”

“Yes, Paul. I came here to play football games, not mind games. Come the end of this season either they will be gone or I will be gone.” Paul got up and made his way out as I lifted the glass and downed the disgusting mix of water and tablet.

The goings on behind closed doors had taken away from the more important issues and in particular the start of the league campaign. The season proper was to start within the week and it was time to start taking things a little more seriously, starting with training.

As had been custom at Ajax I had given Danny free reign of the pre season friendlies, he was eager to make the most of the management experience and I was eager to get a better look at the players. Sitting in the stands and away from the melee of the dugout or dressing room I could focus on and hopefully enjoy the football.

Of course, there were other reasons to enjoy a seat in the stands and sometimes those without coaching badges could provide as accurate an assessment of a player as you’re ever likely to get. A fan is a team’s best critic, never happy, but always with the team’s interests at heart. Sitting amongst them you can hear the jeers that get lost in the crowd when you’re in the dugout and those jeers can come in particularly useful, especially when you’re still getting to know your players.

For the most part the comments and my notes had been positive and five comprehensive wins from five friendlies spoke volumes for the standard of play, but there was one recurring theme and one major bug bear that seemed to have caught my attention and that of the fans. Chances were being created and space was being made, mainly thanks to the quick tempo, short passing game that the team played with, but it was obvious that there were a few players that were still getting to grips with just how quickly I liked my teams to play. Such a style requires lightning quick reactions, perfect first touch and excellent decision making, my players were more than capable, one or two were used to having more time on the ball and more time on the ball is exactly what they wouldn’t get against Bolton in the first game of the season.

It was Tuesday, four days until kick off and the players seemed bemused that I had left it so late to change training, they seemed baffled by my attempt to explain the new training system.

“You want us to play eight aside on half a pitch.” El Shaarawy’s eyebrows were raised.

“Yes please.” I replied.

“With no keepers or nets?” His eyebrows raised further.

“No keepers, eight aside and half pitch, please.” It wasn’t rocket science, I wondered what was so hard to grasp.

“How are we supposed to score?” Shepherd laughed as he said it.

“You’re not, the aim of the game is to retain possession. Jonathan will be counting the number of successful passes in passing moves created by the players in yellow bibs and Wim will be doing the same for those of you in red bibs.”

El Shaarawy scratched his head as he tried to understand, “But there’s not enough room!” He eventually offered. I looked towards the ground and inhaled as loudly as possible through my nose, still looking at the ground I could hear the padding of footsteps as the players shifted to pick up a bib.

That training session had been poor, the players becoming frustrated by the lack of end product, bored by repetitiveness of the play and irritated that the players I had worked with previously seemed to have a head start. Danny informed me that there had been one or two mutterings of discontent in the dressing room afterwards, but those mutterings had all but disappeared come Friday.

The final training session, just twenty-four hours before the official kick off of my Manchester United career and I watched on, with a smile on my face, as the ball fizzed around from foot to foot on one half of a full length Carrington pitch. Player’s barking orders at one another and picking the pass, not the move. They were ready.

David Beckham – I arrived in the summer of 2010, I knew I was going to be a bit part player and a lot has been made about how little I played and how quickly I moved on, but I enjoyed working with Alfredo, he was a gentleman. He was more than happy for me to try my hand at coaching, even though I had no training, I tried to get him to “teach” me, but he insisted that I try by myself.

Mo Diarra – I didn’t think twice about it, he offered me terms and I don’t even think I looked at the figures, I just signed and set about buying a house. Ekdal and Ljajic returned as well, but they weren’t permanent at the time, but Burdisso was the real coup, Toby was still young and we needed a strong partner for Jorge.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….Amsterdam expects, we always expect, but the manner of the win was pleasing because we controlled the game so well, I can’t remember a single chance for Feyenoord. Fredo can add the Super Cup to the trophy cabinet and we can hope for more of the same, I thought Becks played a blinder…..

Posted 25.07.10

The Premier League fixture generator had selected an away trip to Bolton’s Reebok Arena as our first game of the season and my first competitive game in charge. Bolton had improved significantly since I began my management journey, they were no longer considered a long ball team and a Champions League outing in 2019 proved to everyone just how far they had come.

The fixture was considered a local derby, of sorts, it didn’t have the glamour or even the importance of the Manchester derby, but it still had a say in which set of fans had bragging rights on the factory floor come Monday morning, it was going to be a tough, tough game. Bolton would be out to get one over a more illustrious neighbour, even if United weren’t the team they used to be and with that in mind I was glad that the players didn’t have to start the season with a long, boring and tiring coach or plane trip, thirty minutes down the A6 and we were ready for action.

A lot had been made about my arrival and the turning of a corner for the club, my pre match conversations with the press were no different, filled with questions about future plans and whether or not I thought we could mount a title challenge. I erred on the side of caution and deflected their attentions towards the clubs that everyone expected to win the title, Chelsea and City. I knew that this wouldn’t go down well with the fans and deep down I knew that my squad had what it took to make a decent fist of a challenge, but I was long enough in the tooth not to set myself up for a fall as early as the first game of the season.

My starting lineup had been decided earlier in the week, there weren’t any surprises as a majority of the new signings made their debuts and the most influential of the old guard kept their place. Bentiez started between the sticks with Carminati, Anderson, Boons and Da Silva in front of him, the central midfield three were Bouma, Bean and Rose, El Shaarawy and Mitchell Gibson supported Shepherd in the hole between attack and midfield. It was an attacking formation and I hoped that it would be enough to break down a resilient Bolton defence.

As we prepared to leave the dressing room for the tunnel and eventually the pitch I looked around and it struck me that I was more nervous than the players. I wondered if my hands were shaking because of the nerves or because of the vibrations coming from the noise being created in the stands, the passion of the English fans was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Danny offered a final few words of encouragement whilst Mo moved around the room shaking each player’s hand and patting them on the back, eventually he came to me and held out his hand, I gripped it tightly and smiled.

“Ready?” He smiled back.

I took a deep breath, “As I’ll ever be.” The knock came on the dressing room door, our cue to start the journey to the dugout.

Walking along the touchline I looked at the faces in the stand, these people loved their football, the domestic season was back and they were over the moon. I shook my opposite numbers hand and smiled for the cameras before taking my seat and rubbing my hands together in anticipation of the referee’s whistle. It wasn’t long before I was up and out of my seat, pacing my technical area.

On eight minutes Bolton split our defence in two with a perfectly weighted through ball, it was lacklustre defending to say the least and they could count themselves lucky that Benitez was awake and perfectly positioned to block Kante’s strike at goal. Five minutes later and Shepherd gave the doubters something to think about, he received the ball thirty from goal, turned and ran at the defence, his pace too much for them to handle, he managed to get into the area and hammer a shot at goal, but straight at the keeper.

Anderson and Boons were still smarting from Bolton’s early chance, they should have been watching for any similar play and making sure that they had their runners, but on thirty-four they lost Muller and he punished us emphatically. Laulhe picked up the ball in the centre circle and chipped it in behind the defence, Bolton’s German striker was goal side, controlled it on his chest and in the same motion smashed a left footed volley into the top left, Benitez had no chance and my defensive pairing stared at the ground as I screamed at them from the side of the pitch.

It was imperative that we bounce back and quickly, lucky for us the Bolton defence were as bad as our own and hadn’t learnt their lesson either. Four minutes after their opener Shepherd picked up the ball thirty yards from goal and once again set about showing their markers a clean set of heels, this time when he got into the area he struck a cracking left footed shot between the keeper and post that nestled in the back of the net. He ran to the corner flag, turned his back to the camera and pointed at the name across his shoulders. He had arrived.

The score would stay like that and both teams would walk away with a point each, but both teams could have won it in the second half. Shepherd rattled the crossbar with a thunderous strike having picked up Bouma’s pass into the area and Lombardi tested Benitez reflexes with a turn and shot on the edge of the area, but a draw was probably a fair result. We had edged possession 60 – 40 and played well, but I expected better.

As I walked down the tunnel toward the dressing room a journalist approached me with a cameraman in tow.

“Mr Dick, have you got time to give us your thoughts on the game.”

I looked to my right and spied Shepherd walking with Danny, I rushed forward and grabbed his arm. “If anyone deserves to have their say, this lad does”, I said as I pushed him towards the camera. He looked over his shoulder as they moved him towards the advertising board, a huge smile on his face, I turned to Danny who had moved up alongside me and winked.

Jorge Andrade – Nicolas was immense, he was the perfect partner and so versatile, we formed an instant understanding and it didn’t take long for him to become an essential part of the first team. His absence was the reason for that loss against Willem, he would never have let George play so badly.

George Ogararu – I think a lot of people were surprised that Fredo stuck with me after that first season, they expected him to bring someone in and they wished he had after that game. I’ve never been so proud as when I watched the post match press conference, “George is a stronger man than you or I, he WILL bounce back”. I took man of the match two games later in our first Champions League tie.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….he certainly knows how to get the best out of the players, two games ago Ogararu was the most hated man in Amsterdam, today he is the hero behind our 4-0 win in Zagreb. That’s what has impressed me most about Fredo, his ability to get the most out of average players…..

Posted 16.09.10

Didn't previously catch the latest post over the weekend until now.

I liked the boardroom bit. In my opinion, every good football management story worth its salt has to have a slimier than slime boardroom member. Box ticked.

*Cheers, Scott. A bickering board is a must *

The draw against Bolton had given me food for thought, yeah they were a difficult team to break down and yeah they had enjoyed a couple of fruitful seasons in recent times, but deep down I had expected a win and deep down I was disappointed with how easily they had carved us up, especially for their goal. I asked Mo if he could go the extra mile during training, not too far, but make sure that the players were aware that I expected better, he was more than happy to put them through their paces. While he took care of that Danny and I got stuck into our analysis of the game, flicking through highlights and studying the footage that had been prepared by the office staff.

Some managers laugh off video analysis, preferring to encourage the myth that they know their players inside out and that they can read a game from the dugout. Knowing your players is one thing and throughout my career I had tried my best to know them and be there for them, but knowing your players on any given day is something completely different. An argument with the girlfriend, a photograph from a nightclub that they were hoping wouldn’t get out, even missing their favourite programme the night before, players can have off days just like the rest of us, the problem is that their off days can have far deeper repercussions.

As for reading the game from the dugout, views can be blocked, assistant’s can catch your attention at the worst possible time and fourth officials can rile you, in my opinion the dugout is one of the worst “vantage” points in the ground. A DVD of the match and video analysis on the other hand, I can be anywhere in the stadium that I want to be, I can watch every tackle from every angle and I can watch it over and over again, focussing on different positions in the same play each time. Video analysis on a Monday morning was the most important part of my week.

Danny had already made up his mind who was at fault for the Bolton goal, Anderson and Boons shouldn’t have lost Muller and shouldn’t have lost each other’s position, that much was obvious, but this was a new defence and it would take time for them to gel into a unit. Other than the goal the back five had played well, Benitez doing what he was paid to do when he was called upon and Boons dealing with a majority of the balls coming into the area from the wings. Anderson had suffered one or two wobbles, but he wasn’t first team and wasn’t match fit, Da Silva played well and was particularly impressive going forward and Carminati had done a decent job on the right, though his delivery had left a lot to be desired.

The defence might have been at fault for the goal, but they had played pretty well otherwise, the real issue was the lack of chances created and for that we had to look at midfield. Rose, Bean and Bouma had done well, Bouma in particular played very well and tried his best to get things moving, but he had been let down by an abject performance from two of the front three, the two playing in the hole. Gibson and El Shaarawy were expected to provide that pass for Shepherd that could turn a game on its head, they were expected to cause the Bolton defence problems with their running off the ball and eye for goal from range. That didn’t happen and what we ended up with was a youngster who struggled to make an impact and a captain treading water.

This was El Shaarawy’s testimonial season with the club, aged 31 he had signed up with United back in 2014 and went on to become a fan favourite mainly thanks to his loyalty, having spurned the advances of big Italian clubs despite United’s lack of trophies. Such loyalty had been rewarded with the captain’s armband in 2022 and I had been eager to maintain that leadership and consistency with a young and relatively new side, I was starting to wonder if that had been a mistake.

Each time he gave the ball away I gripped the arm of my chair a little harder, each time he hung onto the ball for that second too long I ground my teeth a little harder and each time he fired a long and hopeful shot high and very wide I rubbed my forehead a little rougher. Enough was enough, I pressed pause and I turned to Danny who was scribbling furiously in his notepad.

“What do you make of that?” I asked. It was one of those questions that comes out like a sigh and you finish it off by resting your chin on your hand and offering a miserable pout.

Danny closed his notebook and set his pen on the cover before turning towards me, “I thought it was ****.”

I rolled my eyes, sitting up as I did so. “That much is obvious, but what made it ****?”

“Well, the goal could have been avoided…” He trailed off as I raised my hand.

“Not the goal, we know what went wrong with that and we’ll work on it, what went wrong elsewhere?”

“El Shaarawy.” Danny’s reply was immediate, “His passing was awful, decision making atrocious. I didn’t see any leadership, he was one of the quietest players on the pitch.”

“He just seemed to be going through the motions, didn’t he?”

“That’s called complacency, boss.”

Danny was right, that performance bore all the hallmarks of a player stuck in a rut, ten years in an underachieving side could do that to you and I wondered why he hadn’t moved on if he was struggling for motivation. Danny and I looked through the player contracts and found that he was one of the top earners; I could rule money out as a possible incentive. We looked through his history as a player and there was a distinct lack of trophies, perhaps that was the problem, a lack of belief, but surely he would have done more in the opening game of a new manager’s reign if that was the case. There was only one reason for his complacency and lack of motivation, the knowledge that he was safe and secure in his position with the club.

I reached across and lifted Danny’s notebook and pen, opened it and began writing; “Put the word out that I’m looking for a new captain, please. Nothing formal, Chinese whispers.” I finished writing and winked at him as I passed the notebook back to him, “Have one of the girls in the office type that up and pin it on the notice board.”

Danny read through what I had written and looked up at me with one eyebrow raised, “It’s Monday, are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure it’s Monday.” I smiled back.

Luis Suarez – Alfredo took that defeat hard, three days earlier we had beaten AZ 3-0, then to lose 4-0 against Barcelona showed how far we had come and how far we had to go. He tried to tell us that it was valuable experience, but we knew that he was hurt.

Maarten Stekelenburg – Three goals in thirty-five minutes, it was an amazing display of football and to be honest we went in at half time shell shocked. It was the first and probably the last time that I saw Alfredo lost for words, but Fredo seemed to thrive on defeats and turning things around, the football we played after that was some of the best I’ve ever been a part of.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….a small section of the crowd had the nerve to jeer, they have awful short memories. This isn’t PSV or AZ, this is the best team in Europe and probably the world, I for one am proud to see us back up against the big boys, even if we do get hammered …..

Posted 29.09.10

Got to say El that I'm loving this one - easy to read with a really good flow and the short flashbacks are a great way to reveal earlier events. Most impressed!

*Cheers, Bob, glad you're enjoying it. I think the flashbacks give some insight into a lengthy and enjoyable career, seemed a waste to focus on one season of such a fantastic save.*

El Shaarawy’s reaction was to be expected, he stopped short of throwing my door open straight away, opting to hammer it with a thunderous knock before throwing it open and storming in. He held his hand in the air, my note crumpled in his fist. I tried to remain composed and moved forward, leaning on my table.

“What the **** is this?” He threw the note onto the table as he said it. I looked at the note and then raised my eyes towards his;

“It’s my teamsheet for Thursday’s game.” I held out my hand, flat and pointing him towards the chair on the other side of my desk.

“I know it’s a team sheet,” he remained standing, “where’s my name?”

“Oh,” I feigned surprise; “isn’t it on there?”

“No it ****ing isn’t and you know it.”

“Sit down, Stephan.”

“I don’t want to ****ing sit….” He trailed off as my fist crashed onto the table.

“If you swear at me one more time……..sit, down, now!” His eyes widened as my fist slammed down for a second time and he edged into the seat. “You want to know why you’re not in my team?” He nodded, “And I bet you’ll want to know if the rumours about the captaincy are true or not.” He nodded again. “You’re name isn’t on that teamsheet because you were absolutely atrocious against Bolton and you don’t deserve a place in the side.” His mouth opened a little, shocked by my honesty, “And yes, the rumours about the captaincy are true. I don’t want someone who doesn’t care about their own game in charge of my team’s game. Ok?” His mouth opened a little further, but all he could offer was a nod.

I pushed my chair away from the table and pushed myself up out of it, turned and looked up at the two pictures on the wall, letting out a prolonged sigh. “You care about your place in the team?”

“Yeah.”

“You care about the captaincy?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t look like it on Saturday.” I turned as I said it and looked straight into his eyes, still wide and now filled with tears.

“Saturday was a one off, it won’t happen again.”

I sat back down, heavily and rubbed my chin slowly. “I’m an understanding man, Stephan. I’ve been in this game for a long time and I know how footballer’s minds work, all I ask for is honesty and commitment. If the commitment isn’t there then you have to be honest, there’s still plenty of time, the window doesn’t clo….”

“No, no!” He reached out placing his palms on the table, “I’m committed, I don’t want to leave and I promise you, Saturday was a one off.” The fear in his eyes, I could tell that I had gone far enough, there was no need to drag it out. I rubbed my chin again before sliding two fingers slowly across my lower lip.

“You produce the goods against Altach on Thursday and you keep the captaincy and your place, you don’t produce the goods and you lose both. Ok.” He nodded, pulled himself out of the chair and moved towards the door; “Stephan,” He turned back towards me, “If you ever talk to me like that again you’ll spend the rest of your career in the reserves, understand?” He looked towards the ground and nodded again.

Thursday arrived and the European campaign began, an away trip to the small Austrian town of Altach could prove to be something of a banana skin, especially this early in the season. I made one change to the team that started the game against Bolton, Magnani coming in to replace Gibson in the hope that the Italian’s pace would take the Altach defence to task.

Lady luck smiled down on me, in the most unfortunate way, during warm up. The thought of undermining my own authority by backtracking on the team I had selected on Monday wasn’t particularly pleasant, but a strain for El Shaarawy’s understudy, Les Walcott, made it a hell of a lot easier. As the player’s readied themselves in the tunnel I looked toward our veteran Italian captain, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone quite so nervous or quite so focussed, he knew that he had to deliver.

We started the game relatively well and our possession control was excellent, but the cutting edge wasn’t there. The best chance of the first half came on twelve minutes when El Shaarawy played a neat through ball into the path of Shepherd, but the frontman’s finish left a lot to be desired and the keeper punched a relatively tame shot over the bar.

The second half produced more of the same as we controlled the game, but struggled in the final third. Magnani went close with a header tipped onto the bar from a Rose free kick and a long range effort from Bean fizzed past the post, but as the clock ticked down it looked like we would have to settle for a very disappointing draw. The stage was set.

In the 85th minute a Magnani corner was headed out by the Altach defence, but only as far as Da Silva on the left. The tiny full back held the ball before releasing it to Shepherd on the left, the Altach defence were slow to react and before they could close him down the ball had been sent in towards the far post. The entire bench lifted out of their seats, crouching in anticipation and they jumped into the air as El Shaarawy threw himself at the ball and sent the header home. He picked himself up from the ground and sprinted towards the away support, down onto his knees, sliding across the turf and pulling the badge on his shirt towards his lips.

I turned to Danny who smiled as he shook his head, he leant forward and cupped my ear, “Sometimes I’m not sure whether you’re a lucky bastard or a genius, Fredo.” I smiled, “I’m just a lucky bastard.”

Danny Blind – There were a lot of raised eyebrows when the team was announced, a lot was expected of Pantelic and everybody knew that he was off form, but they never expected him to be dropped. It meant that Sulejmani had a lot of pressure on his shoulders, but he dealt with it well and it turned out to be a masterful piece of tinkering.

Luis Suarez – Nobody expected us to turn up, they thought it would be Barca all over again, we were two up within eleven minutes and Miralem set both up. Losing was tough to take, but it was at that point that everyone realised that we were moving in the right direction.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….defeat is difficult to take, especially when you concede an equaliser on 89 and a winner on 93, but the fact that we pushed the Champions of Italy that far says it all. The tactical change made a big difference and Fredo should be applauded for it. Two weeks time and they come to our place, I genuinely believe that we can win…..

Posted 20.10.10

You certainly look like you are enjoying your writing, El, as you mentioned to me in the other thread! This is really easy to read, looking forward to more.

*Cheers gav, I miss this save.*

As a result of the away tie on Thursday we had no league game on the Saturday or Sunday, which meant that our league rivals could steal a march on us, but gave us time to prepare and relax before the home leg. I spent the weekend at Old Trafford, soaking up the rich history of the club and wandering through the museum at every opportunity. I spent hours staring at the mountains of silverware concealed in protective glass and fawning over pictures of Busby and Ferguson lifting European trophies, I had enjoyed that privilege twice during my career and I wondered if I would ever have another chance.

However, it wasn’t the trophies and the silverware that tugged on the heartstrings and it wasn’t the pictures of some of the greatest footballers the world has ever known that impressed me. What really hammered home the size of the club I now controlled was the support. Photo after photo, poster after poster of Old Trafford packed to bursting point, even at their lowest point this club had enjoyed the support of devoted fans who flocked to The Theatre of Dreams in their thousands. This was the reason that I hung my head and focussed on the ground as I made my way to the bench in preparation for kick off in the second leg, trying to ignore a half empty stadium.

I wondered where it had all gone wrong, how it had happened and as I sat in the dugout confronted with as many empty seats as there were seats filled my blood boiled. As the referee raised his whistle towards his lips I promised myself that as long as I was manager United would never experience this sort of embarrassment ever again.

We got off to a great start and within four minutes of kick off the Altach keeper was picking the ball out of his net. Mitchell Gibson picked up the ball from a throw in on the left and shifted it inside toward the edge of the D where El Shaarawy was waiting; the captain shaped to shoot, but instead played a weighted first time pass into the area for Magnani who curled it round the onrushing keeper and into the bottom corner. The pass from El Shaarawy was sublime and it seemed that the goal in the away leg had boosted his confidence as he set about controlling the game.

Ten minutes later and it should have been Shepherd getting the second, but it was Rose who found the back of the net. The move started with Rose winning it in midfield and playing it into the area for Shepherd, the big frontman controlled the ball well and fired low towards goal, but the keeper matched it and tipped it round the post. I had found it difficult naming Shepherd as the corner taker for the side, we could do with his movement in the area, but he was the most capable player in the squad with a dead ball and he proved it with a delightful corner in towards the near post for Rose to flick home.

The crowd started to find their voice, anticipating a big victory and hoping that we could make up for the lack of goals in the away leg, the players responded by upping the urgency in their play and moving toward goal at every opportunity. Two more goals before half time saw us going in at the break with a convincing lead. Shepherd got both, one thanks to his own ability with a ball at his feet and the other thanks to another wonderful piece of build up play from El Shaarawy. On twenty-eight Shepherd controlled Walcott’s ball forward and held it for a second or so before turning his man and firing low and hard into the bottom corner. He tried the same thing two minutes later, but this time the shot was blocked, El Shaarawy played the loose ball first time and Shepherd reacted fastest, hammering the assist past the keeper and into the roof of the net. Not bad for a man playing only his second ever game in Europe.

In the dressing room and the players were in buoyant mood, perhaps justifiably so, laughing and joking, revelling in a fantastic display, but the number of empty seats was still playing on my mind and it concerned me that the players didn’t seem to care.

Jorge was standing by the dressing room door, El Shaarawy was seated next to him his eyes closed and head rested against the wall. I moved alongside the big Portuguese;

“Shocking amount of empty seats out there.” El Shaarawy’s eyes shifted under his eyelids.

“Yeah.” Jorge looked at me, his brow wrinkled, I winked and his eyes widened. “Yeah, shocking.”

“What we need is a big win to bring the punters back in through the gates, show off how we want to play and get them interested in the team again.”

“You don’t think four is enough, boss?” El Shaarawy’s shoulders flinched.

“Four is nice, but one or two more would be fantastic, a positive message, a sign of things to come.”

“You think they’re capable?” Jorge smiled as he said it and El Shaarawy’s jaw tightened.

“I believe these lads are capable of anything.” I turned as I said it and placed my hand on El Shaarawy’s shoulder, the Italian jumped as he opened his eyes. “Well played out there son, you’re having a blinder.” I didn’t give him a chance to reply, turning once more and putting my arm around Jorge’s shoulder, leading him out of the dressing room and into the corridor. The door closed behind us and I held a finger to my lips, we stood a second and then it came;

“Right lads, there’s still plenty of work to be done, unless you’re happy playing in front of a half empty stadium…..” El Shaarawy’s pep talk trailed off as we moved back down the corridor and towards the tunnel.

Two minutes into the second half and we got one of the two I wanted, Shepherd completing his hat trick with another turn and shot from the edge of the area. However, the five goal lead didn’t last for long and in the fiftieth minute Altach stunned us with a counter attack that resulted in Keiber heading past Benitez from close range.

Conceding a goal was a setback and I half expected heads to drop and the game to peter out, but the players reacted brilliantly and two minutes after Altach’s consolation the five goal lead was reinstated. El Shaarawy winning the ball to the right of the centre circle and bursting forward down the right wing, he showed great skill and pace to get to the byline before cutting the ball back towards the edge of the area where Shepherd was steaming in to smash a sidefooted effort into the bottom right.

Six goals scored and four for our new striker, but for the goal conceded everything had gone to plan and we would be in the pot for the Group Stages. However, the prospect of a flight to Monaco the following morning, for the draw, with John Lynch as my only companion was weighing heavy on my mind.

Mo Diarra – It was a vicious game, really, really nasty and I deserved my red, but they were out for blood and couldn’t handle the fact that we were matching them, again. Maarten was in fine form and Hedwiges worked well alongside me. Another late equaliser was difficult to take.

George Ogararu – I think that we all thought we had a chance to win and make it out of the group. Fredo was furious with the way they were playing, he hated cheating and they were doing everything they could to unsettle us and eventually it worked.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….another f**king late goal steals the points away from us and consigns us to the Europa League. I’m not angry with the players, Mo should know better, but Juventus should hang their heads in shame, they came to hurt and disrupt, not play football. What’s the bets Fredo ends up banned for his post match comments and they get off scot free.…..

Posted 04.11.10

Monaco is a horrible place, full of the elite pandering to the elite and revelling in their own self importance, what more would you expect of a country that puts the beautiful people ahead of the beautiful game. I hated the fact that the draws for the premier continental club competitions were held in a place that preferred men with skilful cars to men with actual skill, but that was beyond my control and we jetted off to the principality to find out who we would face in the group stages of the Europa League.

The flight was quick and painless; I passed the time by skimming through newspaper reports of our win against Altach, which for the most part were excellent, whilst Lynch scanned and signed paperwork, neither of us talked. Mid flight the attendants offered us refreshments, I ordered a strong dark coffee, Lynch whispered his order, which worried me, but the rattle of ice against glass as the stewardess brought it to him confirmed my fears, it was 10am.

A league game at the weekend meant that there was no need for an overnight stay and as such no need for baggage, we landed and were guided to a Land Rover, which was waiting for us on the landing strip. The drive to the Grimaldi Forum from Monte Carlo airport took less than ten minutes and whilst I hate Monaco there was no denying how beautiful the Larvotto quarter was, we pulled up alongside the Japanese Gardens and an escort showed us to the main building and into a reception area filled with the biggest names in European football management and ownership.

Lynch tried to introduce me to one or two people that he “knew” and seemed embarrassed when it turned out that I already knew them, not that it meant anything. It seemed that, as with the boardroom, Lynch wasn’t taken particularly seriously by his peers, I wondered how many of them knew about United’s boardroom situation and cringed a little when I considered my association with Mitchell and Hewitt, I hoped that it wouldn’t damage my reputation.

As the scheduled time for the draw approached everyone started to file off into their own little groups, Lynch and I stood by the staircase cradling our drinks, mine a mineral water, his a whiskey. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find Dolf Roks standing behind me, his hand outstretched and a grin on his face. I shook his hand and introduced him to Lynch whose eyes widened when I mentioned the name. Small talk ensued and just as I started to worry about the length of the pauses between sentences we were asked to make our way to our seats, as we walked towards the conference room Dolf said what he had been waiting to say;

“Good luck with the draw, Alfredo. Europa League isn’t it?” There was a smile on his face, the condescending tone was apparent. “You should have a decent chance of winning a competition like that.”

I tried my best to take it in my stride, but my fists clenched and my nails nipped my palm, “Yes, Dolf, we should have a very good chance. All the best for your boys too, you should have a decent chance too. You still have a majority of the lads that I won the Champions League with, don’t you?”

It was Dolf’s turn to try and remain composed, but the smile had disappeared. His jaw flinched to the side; “How’s Natale? I haven’t seen her in such a long time; do pass on my good wishes.” I simply smiled and assured him that I would before taking my seat alongside Lynch.

The draw itself was a non-event, they always were, not half as exciting as the websites and columnists would have you believe. A huge fanfare and buckets full of corporate spiel to sit through before eventually finding out who stood between your team and the knockout stages. We were relatively safe because we were one of the top seeds and were likely to be drawn against three smaller teams, which is exactly how it worked out. Viking Stavanger of Norway, KF Tirana of Albania and Partizan Belgrade of Serbia were all teams that we should be beating and beating comfortably. That said, in the post draw interviews I tried my best to play down any talk of the group being too easy and United being a certainty for qualification, but deep down I was confident, perhaps a little over-confident.

It wasn’t long before Lynch and I were back in the Land Rover and back on the plane, we were both eager to get back to Manchester and prepare for the weekend. With the draw out of the way and something to talk about I decided to try and engage with Lynch on the flight home. I sat opposite him, he was staring out the window at the passing clouds, I motioned for one of the attendants and ordered a gin and tonic, “John, do you want a topup,” he was holding yet another whiskey. He turned and looked at me vacantly, as if in a world of his own before blinking as the question registered, “Oh…yes…please”, smiling as he handed the glass to the attendant.

There was silence as we waited for the drinks, when they arrived I took mine and held the glass out for him to tap his against, “Cheers”. I decided to take the bull by the horns. “Do you mind me saying something that might offend you?” His eyes widened, it was a strange question, but he shook his head. “You don’t seem like the normal football chairman.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a criticism or not.” He said as he arched an eyebrow.

“It is and it isn’t. It’s nice to meet someone who isn’t the stereotypical chairman, but it’s unnerving to think that my employer isn’t a chairman.”

He shifted in his seat and his eyebrow slumped as his brow wrinkled. “I’m not sure what you’re point is, Alfredo.” Immediately defensive.

“You’re the chairman and majority shareholder of this club, right?” He nodded. “Mitchell and Hewitt own what? 10% between them.” His brow tightened further as he nodded. “Yet they seem to call the shots. Do you run the club or not.”

He looked towards the window again and poured some of the whiskey from his glass into his mouth. “You know something Alfredo? I’m not sure.”

“Have you tried doing something about it?” I wondered if I was going too far and Lynch’s reaction told me that I had. “If you don’t mind, Alfredo, I’d rather not talk about it. I just want to drink my drink and relax.” I nodded and pushed myself further back into the seat.

A minute or so passed before he spoke again, “Alfredo, do you mind me asking you something?” I shook my head. “Roks’ attitude didn’t seem to bother you until he mentioned Natale, who is she?” It was my turn to pour some of my drink into my mouth and look toward the clouds.

“She’s my wife.”

Lynch’s eyes widened and his mouth pouted in surprise, “I didn’t know you were married.”

I smiled, “That’s because most of the time it feels like I’m not.” A puzzled expression crossed Lynch’s face and it was obvious that he expected an explanation. “If you don’t mind, John, I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to drink my drink and relax.”

Rodney Sneijder – I think everybody was surprised by the team he picked, Miralem was the only first team regular, but we had already confirmed third place in the group and had no real chance of taking second so I think he was happy to give us a run out against a top side. 18 years of age and playing on the opposite flank to David Beckham against Barcelona, it was like a dream come true.

David Beckham – The support Alfredo gave to his younger players always shone through, the game might not have meant much, but it was a big occasion for the club and the fans. Sarpong took man of the match, he was a quality player and was playing out of position, but Rodney was the player that stood out for me, I had no doubt that he was going to become one of the best midfielders in the world.

www.aa.fanspot.net

…when I saw the line up I expected us to get hammered, but the backup boys showed how strong we are, we should have won it and I can’t believe I’m saying that! Two down to Barcelona within half an hour and we should have walked away with three points!!! I can’t wait for the Europa League, if this result is anything to go by then we have a great chance of doing the business..…..

Posted 09.12.10

This is really excellent, El.

*Cheers, Spav. Glad to have you onboard and enjoying it.*

Lynch and I returned to Manchester to discover that the FA, in their infinite wisdom, had decided to move our league game after all. For a second I cursed the fact that we had rushed to get back and then I considered how awful a night in the company of the most miserable man in football might have been, let alone a night in the company of him after a day of drinking.

The shift in fixtures meant that we had fallen further behind our biggest rivals as they continued their league schedule uninterrupted, three games played whilst we had only managed one. That didn’t necessarily bother me, we would get the games eventually and we would treat them like any other game, so in the short term we weren’t at a disadvantage to anyone else, but in the long term we would have to cram those two games into an already packed fixture schedule, which was hardly ideal. It was the potential congestion, rather than the board’s insistence that the competition didn’t matter, that had me thinking twice about trying to win our game against Chelsea in the third round of the League Cup.

Continental competition held a special place in my heart, the Premier League was our bread and butter and I couldn’t wait to get my teeth into that most famous of trophies, the FA Cup, but the League Cup was nothing and seemed especially pointless to someone who had spent their career in nations with only one cup competition. The decision to field a set of reserves seemed an easy one to make and it would have been easy had we been drawn against Watford or Birmingham, but we hadn’t and we had been drawn against one of the other “big” clubs and the team that I felt stood between us and the Premier League title.

Chelsea were as good as they had ever been and under the guidance of my compatriot, Ciro Ferrara, they had become the European force that they had always threatened to be, four Champions League titles in seven years said it all. They had a wonderfully skilful and athletic set of players, beating them would take a real show of strength and teamwork, four games into my time with United and I wasn’t sure if we were ready for such a challenge. The implications of a loss to our strongest rival so early in the season were potentially damaging, regardless of the competition the loss came in and it was with that in mind that I decided to go with my strongest team and hope for the best.

In the build up to the game the press focused heavily on my relationship with Ciro, and the possible rivalry between two Italians with allegiances to opposite sides of Turin and two Italians who were vying for recognition as the best Italian. Behind closed doors Ciro and I enjoyed a friendly and competitive relationship, nothing like the rivalry described in the newspapers and we both respected, perhaps envied, each others achievements.

Ciro’s success was well documented; he had turned Juventus in a European powerhouse once more and wrestled the Scudetto away from a rampaging Inter Milan side before moving to Chelsea and taking them from strength to strength. I envied his trophy cabinet, six Champions League medals to my two, but we both recognised that he had walked into success by virtue of very gifted squads and prestigious clubs, that’s why Ciro envied me. I had worked my socks off to get where I was, winning the Champions League with Ajax brings more recognition than winning it with Juventus and stealing La Liga away from Barcelona and Real with Valencia brings more recognition than continuing a winning tradition with Chelsea. We both enjoyed impressive reputations, but for different reasons and while the English newspapers focussed on Ciro the Italian press focussed on me, “Il Mago e il Suo Assistente” read the headline on the Corriere Dello Sport, “The Magician and his Assistant”.

The game was played on the Wednesday night at the Zola Arena, as we arrived at the stadium I was greeted by a smiling face from the past. I had given Willem Buys his Ajax debut and nurtured him as he matured into a world class defender, he left for Chelsea when Roks arrived, he greeted me with a warm hug and chatted with Jorge and Paul as my squad made their way to their dressing room. As I probed Willem about a move to Manchester that he wasn’t interested in, a voice came from behind me telling him that “the gaffer” wanted to see him, I recognised the voice. “Hello Danny, keeping well I hope.” I said as I turned. Welbeck’s eyes bore into mine and his lip curled as if growling, he waited for Willem to join him before spinning round and storming away.

After my “exchange” with Danny I decided that I would do something that I didn’t really agree with, get an excuse ready in case the worst came to the worst. If my first team lost I would be slated and Danny would win, if I played some of my reserves I could hide behind giving youth a chance. I wasn’t particularly proud of it, but it was needs must and I far preferred the prospect of a dip in confidence than confidence being destroyed. The midfield and up front remained the same, but for the introduction of 17 year old Danny Downes, in for Ross Bean. The back four was a different story and none of the players who started against Altach retained their place; instead Romero, Paulista, Horvat and Castro would be tasked with keeping one of the World’s best attacks at bay.

The new back four performed admirably during the first half, Chelsea’s two chances coming from a Benitez mistake and a through ball from Muniain that Walter hammered high and wide. However, those two chances were the only chances of the half and we failed to stamp any sort of authority on the game, Chelsea taking the lead was inevitable.

The second half started with Muniain slipping the ball in behind Horvat for Welbeck, my heart sank as I envisaged the former United favourite sprinting towards me and celebrating at my expense, but Benitez matched his low drive and pushed it wide of the post. It was a temporary reprieve, within minutes I was shaking my head in unison with my bench as the referee pointed to the spot after a poorly timed challenge from Paulista on Holmes, Buys stepped up to take the penalty, striking it high over Benitez and against the bar, another let off.

No such luck on sixty when Muniain sent a corner in towards the back post, Benitez came again and missed again, Rose lost his man and Sissoko slammed a header into the top right corner. Within three minutes it was two and the floodgates were well and truly open, Walter sprinting down the left, cutting inside and sliding a pass across the 6 yard box for Muniain to slide in and poke home a well deserved goal.

We were yet to test Sang-Jin Hwang, in the Chelsea goal, well over an hour gone and not a single attempt off target let alone on target, but somehow we managed to pull one back in the 80th minute. A rare foray forward and Grinon hacked down Gibson 25 yards out and to the left of the area, Rose stepped up and curled the ball round the wall and into the top corner, an absolutely spectacular free kick, but totally against the run of play. Not that it mattered, Chelsea regained their two goal lead and took the scoreline that they deserved with a third goal on 86, Walter connecting with a Gerson cross and heading it low into the bottom corner.

My get out clause seemed to have worked and a majority of the media attention after the game focussed on Chelsea’s inability to break down a reserve back four until the 60th minute, no mention of the mauling we actually suffered. I hoped that the players would take heart from the fact that their performance had been ignored, I hoped that the reduction in potential fixtures would help us in the long term. On the bus back to Manchester Danny sat beside me.

“You can’t protect them forever, Fredo.” I looked at him. “Sooner or later they’re going to be tested and they’re going to have to cope with the big boys, no hiding behind reserves and waiting for them to ‘gel’.”

I rolled my eyes, “Sooner than they think,” Danny’s brow wrinkled, “I haven’t told them yet, but the FA have moved the fixtures again, we’re at Arsenal on Sunday”. Danny puffed his cheeks out, lost for words. “My thoughts exactly.” I said as I pressed my head into my headrest and closed my eyes.

Jorge Andrade – I couldn’t quite believe it and didn’t really understand what went wrong, but Nicolas had a shocker and I may as well have been playing central defence by myself. That said, the front four didn’t help and their inability to hold onto the ball meant that we were dealing with wave after wave of attack, it was only a matter of time before Villa capitalised and those two away goals killed our European season.

Maarten Stekelenburg – No keeper in the world would have kept those shots out, they were like thunderbolts and one of them was in off the underside of the bar. Fredo insisted that we had a chance in the away leg, but we all knew that it was time to focus on wrapping up our second league title in a row and start working towards our Champions League campaign.

www.aa.fanspot.net

…..Villa weren’t even that good and on any other day we would have given a better account of ourselves, but so many players didn’t turn up and in such important positions. Despite the performance I hope Fredo tries to bring Burdisso in on a permanent deal, every player has off days, it’s just a shame his came during such an important game…..

Posted 07.04.11

Won one, drawn two, lost one is hardly the start I had hoped for and hardly the type of form that would stand us in good stead for the visit of a very gifted and capable Arsenal side. Twenty years to the season since Arsene Wenger’s “invincibles” side and still playing the same flowing attacking football that Wenger was known for, I knew that Arsenal should never be underestimated, even if they hadn’t won a title in twenty years.

The players seemed to take the change of fixtures in their stride and Mo assured me that they were ready so there were no second thoughts on team selection, my best eleven would be named and tested. Before the game and as the players prepared, I invited Arsenal manager Patrick Vieira to my office for a quick glass of wine. He looked at the pictures hanging behind my chair and smiled;

“Hoping to emulate the greats, Alfredo?”

I sipped my drink, “Of course, isn’t that what we’re here for?”

“Nope, we’re here to make up the numbers and win the “best of the rest” title.” He stared back across the table at me, deadly serious. “How much did you spend during the summer, £30-40m?” Not quite, but I nodded anyway. “City spent £80m, Chelsea spent £50m and that’s on improving first and second. You and I are fighting a losing battle.”

“You’re not giving management enough credit, money doesn’t buy success.” I cringed slightly as I said it.

He drained his glass and placed it on my desk before pushing himself up, out of his seat, “It has so far.” He smiled as he moved towards the door of my office.

Arsenal started the brighter of the two teams, the speed at which they were moving the ball around the pitch was amazing and my lads were struggling to keep up. Pace on both flanks and up front, coupled with two central midfielders that could thread a pass through the eye of a needle, it wasn’t long before they started to exploit the major weakness in my side, the lack of pace on the right side of defence and as early as the twelfth minute Carminati was struggling.

When you’ve been in the game as long as I have it’s only a matter of time before old faces and acquaintances come back to bite you in the back side. Remy van Zundert, on Arsenal’s left wing, was a surprise call up to the Dutch squad for the 2018 World Cup and played a vital role as we limped to a third placed finish. It was his pace that had attracted my attention in the first place and here he was showing Carminati a clean set of heals as he sprinted through and looked set to give Arsenal the lead, lucky for me his finishing had always been poor and one on one with Benitez he failed to test the keeper or get his shot on target, it skewed high and wide to a chorus of cheers from the home crowd.

On the half hour Carminati was scrambling again, this time it was Coutinho who was drifting past him before cutting inside, the Brazilian showing some great touches as he moved towards the area and his curling shot looked destined for the bottom corner, but Benitez matched it and held it with a quality save. The opening thirty had been all about Arsenal, but for the most part they had been limited to long shots, which I was happy with, all we needed was a bit of luck and fingers crossed we would have the chance to play rather than chase.

The slice of luck came on thirty-six when Arsenal defender Niall Bolton rushed past Shepherd in an attempt to cut out Benitez’s long punt forward, he threw himself at it, missing the ball completely and ending up sprawled on his backside and looking back in horror as Shepherd sprinted free. Everyone on the bench screamed “TIME” in unison, he had plenty of it and he knew it, jogging with the ball and waiting for backup, picking his moment perfectly and cutting the ball back towards the edge of the area where El Shaarawy was waiting to side foot low past the keeper into the bottom left. My captain ran to my front man and jumped into his arms as the stadium erupted in celebration, it was totally against the run of play, but who cared?

The goal changed everything and Arsenal backed off, their confidence knocked and ours boosted, we stroked the ball around them well and were all set to take our lead in at half time, but there was just enough time for a scare that had the potential to damage confidence at the worst possible time. On forty-five Pearson sent a free kick in from the left, Benitez decided not to come and stood motionless as Davies’ header crashed against the crossbar and out for a goal kick, a nervy reminder of how quickly things can change.

Half time was spent stroking egos and telling my players to forget about forty-five and focus on thirty-six, we had the lead and we were in control, Arsenal could pass and run as much as they like, especially when they’re doing it thirty yards out. However, one goal wasn’t enough and I needed Rose and Bean to push forward, give us extra options in attack and get stuck in as high up the pitch as possible. As we left the dressing room and headed towards the pitch I pulled Carminati to one side; “The first chance you get you go through van Zundert and show him you’re not having another half where he dictates the play.” Old friendships meant nothing in the heat of battle.

The half had barely started when we could, probably should, have taken the lead. El Shaarawy sending a free kick into the centre of the area and Boons attacking it expertly, his header skimmed the bar as it flashed over the top. Two minutes later and another guilt edged chance went begging, Shepherd sending a corner in toward the near post, Arsenal’s Davies swung a foot at it, but sliced it wildly and the ball rebounded off the crossbar and into the arms of Kinsky.

A third chance came on fifty-six and this time the net rippled as the packed house rejoiced. Seconds earlier van Zundert raced down the line only to be clattered by Carminati so hard that he ended up sliding headfirst into advertising hoardings. The Arsenal bench were livid, Vieira racing from his seat to scold the fourth official, the Arsenal players were even angrier and out for revenge, unfortunately for them Pearson wasn’t smart enough to exact his revenge far enough away from goal and scythed El Shaarawy down on the edge of the d. Rose set the ball on the ground and took three steps back, Old Trafford seemed to go quiet as he caught the ball perfectly, curling it up and over the wall, down into the bottom corner of the net.

With Arsenal humbled we relaxed and passed our way to the referee’s whistle, it was a vital win against formidable opposition and would do wonders for confidence and moral, everything was going perfectly until Danny burst into the dressing room interrupting my post match team talk.

“You’re gonna want to see this, boss.” Danny panted and nodded towards the tunnel. I ran out the door and was greeted with the sight of a camera stuck in Hewitt’s face and a microphone hovering over his head. My heart sunk as I moved in closer and heard what he was saying; “….i’m afraid not, much as I love this club you have to realistic and I don’t believe this group of players is capable of winning the league, regardless of the manager or how much he has spent.” Hewitt didn’t even flinch when he noticed me watching over the interviewer’s shoulder.

“Bang goes that confidence boost.” Whispered Danny.

Luis Suarez – Fredo encouraged me to play wherever I liked, I was allowed to roam and I was in my element. It helped that I had such gifted players around me, I could drift out right safe in the knowledge that Albin or Miraelm would fill in alongside David.

Danny Blind – There were plenty of rumours about his future, the games against Barca and Juve had boosted his reputation and there were Italian and Spanish clubs who asked to speak to him, but he had a plan and there was no way he was going to consider moving on before he had completed the challenge he had set himself. Europe was the be all and end all.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….What a way to start the new campaign, a three goal victory over our biggest rivals, I’m in dreamland. Is it too early to claim that we are on course for a third consecutive title? I don’t care. I think back to the years of pain before Fredo arrived and I deserve to feel positive, we deserve it. Long live Alfredo Dick, give him the freedom of Amsterdam, give him anything he wants, just make sure that we hold onto him.…..

Posted 14.08.11

I still can't work out whether this will be a slow-start-leading-to-eventual-glory type story, or a kind of "rise and fall", with United being the fall and Amsterdam being the teary-eyed reminder of when football still had a place in the game for the likes of Alfredo Dick. Or will it be neither of the above? Who knows.....

*Glad you're still reading, Scott, you'll have to wait and see what way this turns out, there are a few twists and turns yet to come.*

The fallout from Hewitt’s interview was unbelievable and it wasn’t helped by the disappearing act he performed almost immediately afterwards. The media latched onto it in familiar style, focusing on my relationship with Hewitt rather than Hewitt’s actual comment, to begin with that seemed like a blessing, but the players took ignoring the comment to mean that the papers agreed with the comment.

“We’re a laughing stock.” Rose stood arms crossed with his teammates behind him, Jorge, Mo and I in front of him. “When was the last time a team got slagged off by their own boss…on live television?!”

“Fredo’s your boss, not Hewitt.” Mo’s eyebrows slumped in a glare as he said it.

“Do me a favour, Mo. Fredo’s the gaffer, he picks the team an’ all, but if he was the boss then he would have been the one giving the interview.” One or two of the players nodded in agreement and I could understand why. In the heat of the media frenzy one issue had been ignored and it was perhaps the most important issue of all, my authority had been undermined, three months of hard work wiped out and it was up to me to rebuild the bridges that had been destroyed.

“Steven’s right.” There were puzzled expressions all round. “I am the gaffer, that’s all. I pick the team, I pick the players we sign, I negotiate the contracts, I set the tactics and instructions, I’m the one you come to with your concerns and I’m the one whose neck is on the line.” Rose fidgeted as he stood, embarrassed. “Hewitt’s the boss? He doesn’t even sign the cheques! He isn’t even the majority shareholder and you think he’s the boss?” Nobody was willing to make eye contact. “Hewitt’s a man with a big mouth, shallow pockets and an empty head. I’m in charge of this club, you listen to me, nobody else but me. When I tell you that we can do it, that we can be the best, I say it with almost twenty years of management behind me and I say it because I believe it, not because it’s a sound bite that might get me a few column inches that are bound to mention my business.”

“Six league titles, two Champions League titles, second and third place in the World Cup. Who the hell do you think you are questioning this man’s leadership?” Mo stepped forward as he said it and Rose seemed to shrink in front of him. “Get out of my sight.” The players stood motionless, shocked. “NOW!” If it hadn’t been so serious the sight of them scampering towards the training pitch and away from Mo might have been funny.

Mo moved back alongside Jorge and I, “How bad do you think it is?” I asked, my voice low.

“It’s bad.” Jorge stared straight ahead as he said it. “They aren’t strong enough, they don’t understand this club and most of them have never experienced success, deep down they agree with Hewitt.” I closed my eyes and sucked a deep breath in through my nose.

“Can I make a suggestion?” We turned to find Lynch standing behind us, hands in pockets. “These guys are your team Alfredo and you know what you’re getting when you work with them.” I nodded. “But this club is bigger than anything any of you have ever been a part of before and none of you have history here.” I glanced to the side to see Jorge and Mo’s expressions change, but I wanted to hear what Lynch had to say. “I’m travelling separately to the Partizan game, meeting a couple of acquaintances before hand and I’d like to introduce them to you after the game, they’d fit in perfectly here.”

“Who?” Lynch smiled as I asked.

“I’d rather not say, they might not even be interested, but I doubt that.”

“Why are you so sure that they would be interested in a club spread all over the newspapers, for the wrong reasons?”

Lynch smiled again, “Because they are Manchester United.”

Three days later and I stood by the side of the Stadion FK Partizan pitch, water dripping from my nose as torrential rain poured down, the referee raising his whistle to his mouth and confirming the worst, a one goal loss in our opening Europa League group game. We had been caught out by a long ball forward in the 41st minute, Veljkovic controlling it well before dinking the ball over the onrushing Benitez and we had fallen foul of wasteful finishing from players whose confidence was shot.

I tried my best to buoy spirits in the dressing room, but the atmosphere was dead. The players showered and dressed in silence, I stood wondering what to say and have never been so glad to see a chairman open the dressing room door.

“Alfredo, can I have a word.” Lynch nodded for me to follow him through the door. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust from the bright dressing room to the dimly lit corridor, but I could make out two figures standing side by side. I blinked hard as I tried to focus, the faces of the two figures registered immediately and I grinned as Lynch introduced me, “Alfredo, meet Ryan and Paul.”

Heh, I think I can guess the surnames of those two . Also, a somewhat older but still huge and ugly and angry Mo Diarra would scare me sh*tless, I can only imagine what it did to those poor players...

*Ryan Bertrand and Paul Scharner :thup *

Maarten Stekelenburg – It was a weak group, but there really are no easy games in Europe and trips to the likes of Croatia and Hungary should never be taken lightly. That said, we made light work of it and I think we were the only team to emerge from the group stages without losing a game.

Albin Ekdal – Everybody kept talking about improving the side and bringing new signings in, but Fredo never went mad in the transfer market because he knew how important it was to have a team that knew how their teammates played. We went into the Champions League with a midfield that had played side by side for almost three years and knew each other’s game inside out.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….Woooooooo, second round here we come. Back where we belong and ready to mix it with the big boys. The draw could have been kinder, but it gives us a chance to get one over Valencia after the Europa semis two years ago. Onwards and upwards, AFC Ajax Amsterdam forever .…..

Posted 23.11.11

The opportunity to work with two of the biggest names in the English game was too good to turn down and two of the club’s greatest ever servants returned to help us achieve our goals. Rumours circulated that this was a snub of my tried and trusted coaching team and that the decision to bring them in was made by the powers that be, neither was true. Lynch might have pointed me in the right direction, but it had been my decision to bring them in and my decision as to which roles they were assigned, Giggs midfield coach and Scholes first team coach. As for snubbing my team, I discussed the matter with each of them individually and if anything they were looking forward to working with United men, rather than United staff.

The impact on the players was immediate and noticeable, Monday was spent quizzing the embarrassed duo about their time with Sir Alex and the various trophies they had won, Tuesday was spent trying to impress them. The fuss around their arrival, in the press and on the training pitch, couldn’t have come at a better time as the loss in Belgrade had filled only a few column inches, but there was still an inquest to be had and Danny had been charged with the task of analysing the game.

“Finishing, finishing, finishing,” he said as he reached forward to press play on the dvd player, “and passing, passing, bloody passing.” I rolled my eyes and smiled at his customary over-enthusiasm. “Remember Wenger’s Arsenal side?” I nodded, “Well we’re turning into a carbon copy. Our play outside the final third is exceptional, quick accurate passing, we’re spreading the ball well and we’re bossing possession, but there’s no penetration. Look at this.” The screen in front of me showed Gibson breaking inside from the wing before laying the ball off to Shepherd on the edge of the area, the striker had his back to goal and two markers between him and the keeper. He shifted the ball from right to left, looking for a runner, but Gibson had moved out wide again and El Shaarawy had dropped deep. “He has no option, but to play the ball backwards. The same thing happened on three or four occasions and then there’s this.” This time Shepherd was breaking into the area and firing at goal, the Partizan keeper was upto it and pushed the ball out for his defenders to clear.

“Eugh.” I rubbed my forehead and closed my eyes.

“Exactly, not a single red shirt in the box to follow up, Gibson’s still wide and El Shaarawy’s still deep.”

“What do you suggest? Drop them?”

“No, no. You don’t have to drop them and to be honest it would be a knee jerk reaction to drop players that are playing so well, we just need to encourage them to get into the box and support Shepherd.”

Danny was right; there was no need to replace any of the team that had started against Partizan, they just needed some light encouragement to get forward when possible and to test the defence with their running. They got all the encouragement they needed in my pre match talk at the Hawthornes.

“Gibson, El Shaarawy, if I see you standing still you’re off, if I see you on the wing when Shepherd has the ball in the middle you’re off, if you aren’t in the box when the other is crossing the ball you’re off, understand?” The entire team sat staring at me, open mouthed. “In fact, I want a goal from both of you today, okay?” They looked at me as if I’d gone slightly mad, I emphasised my point, “Okay?”, “Yes, boss”, came the rather sheepish reply.

The encouragement must have worked and with my words still ringing in his ears El Shaarawy burst into the area after only 9 minutes, picking up a through ball from Bean and firing just wide of the advancing keeper. Gibson went one better five minutes later, Shepherd had moved deep freeing up some space and Walcott played it in to the Scot who turned and curled a sublime effort into the top right, the relief on his face as his teammates congratulated him was obvious.

On the half hour our lead was doubled, Shepherd moving out right to collect a throw in from Bean before stroking a well weighted pass across the edge of the area. Gibson and El Shaarawy were in the box, ahead of the ball, but it was their runs that created the space for Walcott to bend a side footed effort around a defender and into the bottom corner. Everything was going to plan, but West brom were far from dead and buried, first up Hughes’ free kick from 30 yards clattered off the bar and then Kuiper’s 35 yarder ruffled the side netting, we went in at half time knowing that there was work to be done.

After the break and Bean gave us a third with a typically powerful effort from 25 yards out, driving it from right to left and finding the top corner, but goal number three lead led to complacency and West Brom stormed back into the game thanks to good work from their right winger Szolga. His header on from a long punt forward played in de Weerdt, the big Dutch striker smashed a drive straight at Benitez who could only parry it, but the parry ricocheted off the back of Boons and into our net. It was a lucky goal for the home side, but there could be no complaints about their second, de Weerdt won the ball on half way and shifted it right to Szolga who sped down the wing, his cross was inch perfect and Kearney’s volley emphatic.

We still held the lead and the clock was ticking down, but I was far from happy and still waiting for an El Shaarawy goal. The 75th minute arrived and as the ball trickled over the line my captain looked towards the bench, I caught his gaze and held my left arm in air, pointing at my watch with my right arm. On 77 Romero played the ball inside from the left, Bean slid it through to Walcott in the area, but faced with three defenders he pulled it back towards the D, Bean followed up with a delightful dink over a last ditch West Brom tackle and into the path of El Shaarawy. One touch to control the ball, one touch to smash it past the keeper and he sunk to his knees as his teammates surrounded him.

It was a valuable and unnecessarily hard fought win, the atmosphere in the dressing room was fantastic, they laughed and joked as I chatted with Mo and Paul.

“There ya go boss, you got the goals you wanted from this pair.” Shepherd had a huge smile on his face and an arm round Gibson and El Shaarawy, both with even bigger smiles on their faces.

“I did indeed, very impressive stuff lads, more of the same next time out.” I turned to continue my conversation.

“You wouldn’t really have taken us off just ‘cus we weren’t scoring though, would you boss?” Gibson laughed as he said it.

I turned slowly and looked him in the eyes, “Oh yes, yes I would.”

I moved towards the door, followed by Mo and Paul, the only sound in the room was our footsteps.

Danny Blind – Fredo and I enjoyed many moments together with Ajax, most people assume that the Champions League win was the most enjoyable, the most important, but the win against Inter in the quarters will always stand out as most important. Yeah we lost in the semis, but in the space of three years Fredo had taken us from a team in Europe to one of the four best teams in Europe.

David Bentley – At that moment in time Alfredo was the best I had ever worked with, I wanted to play under him as long as possible, but that win and my two goals turned heads and I couldn’t cope with the pressure. Alfredo supported me, but the win against Inter was the end of a fantastic start for me and a year later I was sold to Lyon. Sometimes I wonder what might have been had I not scored those goals and played that well, I might have been able to maintain my form and I might have been part of one of the greatest Dutch teams of all time.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….i’m old enough to remember the Kluivert team and this side is better, hell we’re all old enough to remember the shambles against Auxerre. I firmly believe that we can beat Juve in the semis and take our place in the final for the first time in 17 years, any side capable of beating Inter Milan 4-1 is capable of winning the competition. .…..

Posted 04.05.12

Training following the dressing room incident was tense, the players were still trying to figure out whether they liked me or not, the consensus seemed to be that they didn’t, it was a situation I had never found myself in before. With Ajax I had taken over a team whose supporters and board were realistic in their aims, the same goes for Valencia they understood how difficult it was to wrestle success from goliaths like Madrid and Barca and accepted that anything better than third was an achievement. With Holland I was the golden boy, coming in on the back of returning Dutch football to the summit of the European game and with Cameroon I was a big fish in a small pond, in each position I was respected and understood.

Was there a reason that my four months with United hadn’t followed suit? There were plenty of possibilities. Perhaps it was the fact that I had taken a couple of years out between Morocco and Manchester, stock in football falls sharply, especially when you aren’t in the papers at all. Perhaps it was the English game, moneymen and prima donnas outnumbered the skilled and the football men. Perhaps it was me, 63 years old wasn’t necessarily old in footballing terms, but there isn’t a Ferguson or Busby in all of us and maybe I was nearing the end. These were all ifs, buts and maybes, there was only one thing that I could say had definitely affected my start as manager, well, two things actually.

Mitchell and Hewitt had both kept a low profile after the Arsenal interview and subsequent Partizan loss, but that comment still influenced press conference questions; being asked if you can win the title after three games of the season is difficult to answer at the best of times. It was after a particularly irritating press conference that Lynch came to see me in my office.

He started off with small talk and helped himself to a drink, but I was in no mood for a “chat “, the fizzing noise of yet another headache tablet in my glass of water was irritating me, let alone Lynch’s feeble attempts to skirt round the real issue that had forced him into my company. “What do you want, John?” he raised an eyebrow as if shocked by my forwardness.

“Konchesky isn’t exactly subtle.” I looked at him, trying to keep my cool.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh come on Alfredo, you know exactly what I mean.” I bit into my cheek and pushed myself back in the chair, Lynch continued “Now I don’t have a problem with it, I don’t need to say it out loud for you to know my feelings about that pair, but if I can catch wind of what he’s upto then they can catch wind of what he’s upto.”

“I’m just trying to find out what I’m up against.”

“And how is that supposed to benefit either of us?” Lynch drained his glass before moving to pour himself another.

“I was hoping that there might be a way to force them out…” I was cut off as Lynch laughed out loud.

“Take my advice, Alfredo, put your head down and get on with it.”

I scowled across the table at him, “I can’t work like that, their conduct is affecting my team and affecting my position, which is affecting our performances and giving them more ammunition. It’s going round in circles and taking me down.”

Lynch swung his glass between his fingers, the whiskey sloshing from side to side. “How far would you be willing to go?”

“I’m not sure.”

He poured the remainder of his drink into his mouth, “Hewitt and Mitchell are obsessed with racing you know. If they aren’t here causing me grief they can probably be found at the local race course throwing money at their horses. I’ve heard whispers that they never refuse a bet.” Lynch smiled and moved towards the door.

“Is that a hint?”

He pulled the door open and looked back over his shoulder, “Oh no, Alfredo. The only hint I’ve given you is to keep your head down, which is exactly what I’ll be doing if the **** ever hits the fan”

Jorge Andrade – Nothing changed, nothing that could have caused that start to the season. Actually, the only big change was Jose Angel in for Urby and Jose was a better defender so if anything we had improved. Seven goals conceded in five games and people started looking at the defence, they started pointing fingers.

Albin Ekdal – Fredo will never admit it, but the loss of form was down to complacency, it was the first time I really noticed one or two of the lads getting a bit too big for their boots and they expected to stroll through the season. In retrospect that poor start and poor season was exactly what we needed and encouraged Fredo to make the changes he needed to make.

www.aa.fanspot.net

….What has went wrong? Does anyone think this is serious? Or is it just a blip? I mean one loss I could live with, even if it is Vitesse, but one point from three games and all three dropped against newly promoted RKC…Jeesh, it’s even worse when I write it down. Abandon ship!!!!....

26.08.12