The Life and Times of Michael Strang (Mk II)

Given the problems that the forum migration threw up in making stories with lots of non-standard characters look nigh on unreadable, I've decided to repost my tale. I'll repost people's comments as well and there are a few parts of the story I want to tweak. I hope you'll all join me when we get back to where we left off.

Terk, July 2008

Standing at the side of the pitch, his palms sweating and face blushed to match his maroon shirt, nothing that Alex MacDonald was saying left any impression on Michael Strang. Just turned eighteen years old, a shock of shoulder-length ginger hair clashing wildly with his strip, Michael was about to step out onto the Tynecastle field as a Hearts player for the very first time. The team were trundling along to a mid-table finish after the agony of losing the title to Celtic on goal difference twelve months earlier, and MacDonald, along with co-manager Sandy Jardine, thought the time right to blood their latest youngster.

It was a moment Michael had dreamed of throughout his childhood when he lay in bed at night. Posters of his favourite players, banners and scarves took up every bit of wall space they could. He didn't mind that the club bounced between the Premier and First Divisions during his early years, nothing dampened his spirit and desire to one day pull on the maroon jersey. Whenever they would play football in the street or the park, he had no interest in being a Scotland international, or bowing to the wishes of the Hibs fans who surrounded him where he lived in Leith; he was always a Hearts man.

If was, conversely, this determination and dedication which hindered him in his early years of playing the game. Playing for his local boys club, he resembled more of a headless chicken than a football player and had little time or inclination to work on his basic skills. It was only around the age of twelve that any discipline was instilled in him when the family moved across town to Gorgie and a new youth club brought a new coach who knew how to work with him.

Signed by Hearts at the age of sixteen as an aggressive central midfielder, he sat and watched from the stands whilst MacDonald masterminded the club to its near title success. Some quality performances for the reserve side quickly took the management's eye and he sat on the bench unused five times before finally now he was getting his chance. Ten minutes left and the win in the bag, his number was held up by the linesman and Michael sprinted onto the field.

Relegation fodder Hamilton Accies were the visitors, there were already five goals on the board when Michael joined the fray. It took Accies' goals conceded tally above ninety for the season, and it was one of the first times the fans had truly found their voice in the campaign. It took him a few minutes to get the speed of the game, the ball flew bye him ten times faster than anything in a reserve match, but he soon found his footing and a few solidly placed passes ballooned his confidence.

He felt for the first time like he belonged at the same table as these men he had idolised. It helped considerably that Accies were atrocious, barely worthy of the place they had taken in the twelve team Premier Division but with each well timed pass, with each winning tackle, Michael grew visibly in stature.

His crowning moment was yet to come, with a sixth goal already added to the count whilst he had been on the field, though one he'd had no involvement in from start to finish, he saw MacDonald gesturing that he should edge forward for a corner with just seconds left on the clock. He took a position on the perimeter of the eighteen yard box, free on the downtrodden Accies markers. The ball flighted slowly into the crowded penalty area, dropped to an Accies defender, the attempted clearance took a deflection off John Robertson and bounced to the youngster's feet.

Some believe that time slows down in the important moments life throws our way, others that it speeds up and the times you wish you could savour forever and a day are over in less than the blink of an eye. Neither seemed applicable to Michael, a swing of his right boot, the ball curled away, struck the crossbar and bounced into the crowd. It was three inches from glory, and thirty seconds later the ball was in the net for a seventh time, but Michael had a taste of what he longed for.

The photo was faded, yellowing and curling around the edges despite the plastic film holding it in the album. The scene forty years old, it still brought back memories that seemed as fresh as those from yesterday. In it stood Michael Strang, forty years younger than he was now, packing his life into the back of a rusting Ford Transit van. There was something of excitement about the scene; the goofy smile that adorned the younger Michael's face, the haphazard way the boxes were stacked in the street, waiting to be thrown into the van. It all told of someone who just couldn't wait to get on his way to wherever he was going.

Where he was going was Leicester, the beginning of a new life and one back in football. The memories came flooding back, both good and bad of the time he spent embroiled in the game. He tried as much as he could to think about it as little as possible. It had been a long time since he'd retired for good, even longer since he'd hung up the boots of his playing days. There were days like these when it made him resent what he had now, when his life relied upon memories.

He laid the photo album to one side and picked up his phone, wondering whether there was someone he might call to ease his loneliness. He scrolled through the phonebook; neither of his sons would welcome a call, those bridges had been burned long ago. He couldn't even be sure he still had the right numbers for them. John had gone much the same way, once the best of friends he now wanted nothing to do with Michael. It was becoming a common wish, and one that he had no one to blame for but himself.

He slid the phone back into his pocket and gently eased his ageing bones out of his chair. He thought about going upstairs, talking to Eileen, but even that had become a one-sided conversation. He couldn't remember the last time his wife spoke a coherent word, the strokes had taken that away from her. The home help would arrive soon, and she knew where to look for the key if he was out. He eased on his jacket and stepped out into the bitter cold; another wintry day in what was technically still Autumn.

--

The headstone was one of the few that had not been kicked over. Council employees paid to knock over any that were slightly loose to stop 'vandals' doing the same, it made little sense. Above Sarah's grave, however, the stone stood firm. He laid his flowers down beside it, a cheap bunch bought from the local corner shop that were nigh-on dead. Michael felt it was a compromise, he came to pay his respects but to the woman who cost him everything, a fact he noted by spending the bare minimum he could on the flowers.

He had tried to come along just once a month since he learnt that she had died. Her battle with cancer had not been long, she gave up almost as soon as the doctors had diagnosed her. She had rejected the treatment that made it merely a chronic condition, she reasoned that it was simply her time to go. Michael now wished he had been around at the time; he had still loved her to the very end, perhaps even more than he had loved his wife but he had made his choice long ago.

He turned to leave, his footsteps crunching along the gravel pathway leading back to the cemetery gates. He started the car and as he sat waiting for the air-con to take the chill off the air that had stepped in with him, his mind wandered again, back to the days when everyone had wanted to know him.

The van was still parked outside, slowly rusting further away from its prime. I had been meaning to find somewhere more permanent to leave it, or sell it on, but time wasn't exactly something I had much of. The house had a small driveway, just big enough for my Ford Focus, and I was tempted just to offer the keys to the van to the nearest dodgy dealer selling knocked-off TVs. I had an odd sentimental attachment to it though, it had brought me to Leicester and I was destined to hold onto it until it fell apart.

I really had barely any time at home anyway, the club could have saved money by simply sticking a sofa bed in my office rather than providing me with a nice two-bedroom place as a signing-on fee. I had signed a four-year deal at Leicester City, I supposed that in the close season I might get to spend some time at home, but as for now any idea of a nine-to-five job was just wishful thinking.

I'd arrived at the Walkers Stadium with little idea of what to expect. I knew of Leicester as a club that had (relatively recently) been in the Premiership and expected that there was a burning desire to return as soon as possible. The arrival of Milan Mandaric as chairman had pumped money into the club, and if he were to put in the same level of investment as he did at Portsmouth I doubted there would be many problems in at least getting them that far.

My expectations of Milan, however, were well wide of the mark. The impression given in the press was of a somewhat eccentric, demanding man, and sacking manager Martin Allen after little more than four weeks in the job did little to assuage those fears. He was though, an astute businessman and entirely aware of just how difficult success was to achieve. He'd made his money during the birth of America's 'Silicon Valley' before turning to football club ownership and seemed willing to give me time to get the club where he wanted.

"I'm not stupid, Michael." Sitting in his office, having had a long conversation about nothing in particular, I was inclined to agree. "I'm not expecting you to win promotion this year. You'll have money to spend, don't worry, and eventually we want to be in the Premiership, but this year all we need from you is to keep us safely in mid-table. That and a big signing, someone for the fans to get excited about." I'd felt much better about things after my first meeting with Milan. Initially I'd been concerned with just the size of task I had asked of myself in my first job in football management. Sure, I had played at the top of the game. I had won titles and international recognition, but it all counted for **** when you stepped into the dugout.

My first job had been to meet the staff that I had at my disposal. It didn't seem too exhaustive a list for a club at Championship level, indeed it compromised just five coaches, two physios and a scout. Two of those coaches, Jon Rudkin and Steve Beaglehole, would work exclusively with the under-eighteen squad whilst I didn't even have an assistant manager to ease me in. Responsibility for organising that search had been passed to Milan's secretary and I was hopeful that sooner, rather than later, the two of us would be presented with a number of choices to work though.

For now though, it was left to me to assess the squad and what we needed.

Goalkeepers

[Age, Nationality]

Rab Douglas [34. Scottish]

Rab had once held down a regular place in the Celtic first team and been capped eighteen times for his country. Unfortunately, those days were long behind him, and I doubted his creaking legs were up to playing even at this level. I had four professional 'keepers at the club, though the sale of Paul Henderson to Nottingham Forest was supposed to push that down. Unfortunately Forest couldn't afford the fee. Even so, we looked thin on talent and I felt that a lot of trust would no doubt have to be placed in Australian youngster Alex Cisak at some point in the season.

Márton Fülöp [23, Hungarian]

On loan from Sunderland, we were already Márton's fifth English club in his short career. He failed to make the grade at Tottenham - from where he had been turfed out on loan to Chesterfield and Coventry - and his being shipped out from the Stadium of Light suggested a similar fate at Sunderland. I wasn't overly delighted at having him on board, whilst he had superb communication with his defence and good reflexes, he was only the #1 at the club due to a lack of talent in his competition, rather than a startling brilliance on his own part.

Jimmy Nielsen [28, Denmark]

Coming into the years that, as a goalkeeper, are supposed to signal your prime, I would have hated to see Jimmy when he wasn't at his best. He was a determined lad and pretty agile, but from my first few viewings, and certainly from the opinion of my coaches, he simply lacked too many of the basic skills that are needed in a good goalkeeper. He would backup Márton, but only for as long as we couldn't find a replacement.

Defenders

[Age, Position, Nationality]

Darren Kenton [27, DRLC, English]

For someone who seems to have been around for ever and a day, I was surprised to learn that Darren was still three years shy of his thirtieth birthday. A veteran of nearly two hundred games in the Championship since making his debut in 1997 with Norwich, he has exactly the sort of experience needed to succeed at this level, and though his one brief sojourn to the Premiership with Southampton didn't work out, he was clearly a talented lad who I could see us hanging onto for a few years yet.

Bruno N'Gotty [35, SW/DRC, French]

When you get to Bruno's age still playing professional football at a pretty decent level, it's always a testament to someone who has looked after their body. He may have lost pretty much all the pace he ever had during his heyday at PSG and Milan, but five hundred and forty-six games of experience, a calm head on his shoulders and an ariel ability that could still give strikers nightmares meant he straightaway stood out as captaincy material.

Alan Maybury [27, DR, Irish]

How the mighty have fallen. A Champions League semi-finalist for Leeds and caps for his country as well, Alan was then exiled to Hearts for a three and a half year spell under Craig Levein where he became quite a fan favourite for his consistent performance levels. It was Levein who brought him to Leicester in 2005 and he quickly established himself in the side, but it's a long way from the career he seemed to be carving out for himself at the beginning of the decade. However, he was to the fore in my plans, still a quality defender with exactly the sort of agression I liked.

Gareth McAuley [26, DRC, N. Irish]

A six-times capped Northern Ireland international, Gareth was still likely not good enough to find himself amongst my first choice team. However, it did speak to the strength in depth available, particularly in defence, that someone with plenty talent and experience to succeed at this level of the game would see himself pull on the Leicester shirt only on very rare occasions. The trick would be to keep him happy whilst he wasn't playing, and to be honest I was already bracing myself to lose him in the January transfer window.

Richard Stearman [18, DRC, English]

The main reason why McAuley would see little game time was Richard Stearman. Having already played forty-two league matches for the club before I arrived, he had shown the fans his undoubted quality. A work-rate that any manager would die for, hugely strong and very well-timed in the tackle, I felt Richard had the qualities to go all the way to international level. I just hoped he would get the chance to do so whilst at Leicester.

Radostin Kishishev [31, DR/DM/MRC, Bulgarian]

A defender by trade, certainly most of his time at Charlton had been spent at right back, Raddy was also plenty good enough to be considered for a starting slot in the centre of midfield. A veteran of over three hundred career games, and plenty of them in the Premiership, his teamwork and work-rate were second to none and, like Alan, had a nice aggressive edge to him. The only problem was his salary, at £10,000 per week he was one of the highest paid players in the squad, and if the budget needed it, he would have to be one of the first to go.

Alan Sheehan [19, DLC, Irish]

Another youngster, Alan's one outstanding talent was his ability at a dead-ball situation. Both his corners and free kicks could be whipped in with unerring accuracy, it was merely a pity for him that the rest of his game didn't stack up as well. To be perfectly honest, I thought him no better than a League One defender, but with only two proper left backs in the squad, he would be kept on and likely given the early rounds of the cup comeptitions to try and prove me wrong.

Patrick Kisnorbo [25, DC, Australian]

Another former Hearts player who had found his way to Leicester, Patrick was also the most talented of the four Aussies on the club's books. An exceptionally fit player who was a match for anyone in the air, I'd watched him for two seasons after he joined Hearts from South Melbourne and was well aware of his talents. He had Italian roots and was already attracting interest from a number of lower Serie A and high-up Serie B clubs, but I was convinced he was Premiership quality and was determined to keep him at Leicester.

Sergio Hellings [21, DC/DM, Dutch]

Signed from Belgian side Anderlecht by the previous regime after he came through the Ajax youth system, Sergio was new at the club but looked to have all the attributes needed to be a success. Equally good either as a defensive midfielder or centre back, I saw him as a long-term option at the club who may not feature heavily in the first year, but should he continue to develop as expected, could wield a greater influence on the first team as the years go by. His main failing was a lack of pace, but at centre back that would be less of a worry, and it was in that position I felt his future lay.

Hosain Kaebi [20, D/WB/AMR, Iranian]

Doubtless Hosain would come in for plenty of abuse from opposing fans, I was hopeful that he could put in a level of performance that would turn the jeers away from his nationality and towards his ability on the football field. Primarily a right back, and already capped forty-four times by Iran, Hosain was also a candidate to be Bruno's vice-captain. He had electric pace, a wonderful first touch, could land a cross on a sixpence and was no slouch in the tackle. As an eighteen year-old he was named in World Soccer Manazine's '10 Most Promising Players' and signed for Leicester on the back of some very impressive performances at the 2006 World Cup. There seemed no doubt that he had the talent to succeed, and do so in the Premiership.

Clive Clarke [26, D/WBL/DM, Irish]

On a season-long loan from Sunderland, Clive was easily the first choice left back at the club. He possessed a very good all-round game, his marking and off-the-ball skills at the very top of his game. I had no doubt he would be important for us, as long as he stayed fit I saw little reason to go chasing any competition for his place, and I already had a mind on how much it would cost us to make his move permanent come the end of the season.

Midfielders

[Age, Position, Nationality]

James Chambers [25, D/MR, English]

Able to play either at right back or right wing, James was one of those unfortunate players who was a master of none of his trades. Neither strong enough in defence nor skillful enough in attack, the only things James had in his favour were his pace and the fact that he would work tirelessly for the team whilst being soundly beaten by the opposition. I could see his uses in an injury crisis, but further than that I felt his days were numbered at this level.

James Wesolowski [18, DM, Australian]

A highly regarded talent in Australia, James moved to Leicester whilst still young, and shone for the youth and reserve sides before making his breakthrough into the first team for five games during the 2005-06 season. To be honest, I didn't see him making many more appearances than that this time around, but it was obvious that he had potential, and a loan move may be best to get him the first team football his development needs.

Stephen Clemence [28, MLC, English]

Stephen's career was always going to be overshawdowed by Successful Father Syndrome. Joining Tottenham as a youngster, big things were expected of Ray's son before he had even thought about a first team debut. He failed to make the grade at White Hart Lane and then spent four years in and out of the Birmingham side. I felt his talents had been overlooked, however, he was a good passer of the ball and made good decisions on the field, and he clearly figured in my plans for the club.

Marco Ferreira [28, AMR, Portuguese]

How, exactly, a Benfica winger had been persuaded to join Leicester was something of a mystery, until I saw Marco in action. The mystery then became how, exactly, Benfica had been persuaded to take him on in the first place. Not particularly quick, nor very good on the ball, he seemed to lack the basic qualities of a winger, and I could only imagine he had amassed three international caps through inventive use of weaponry. I resolved to keep his loan deal running purely to keep numbers up in the squad, but I sincerely doubted that his stay would be any longer than a season at the Walkers Stadium.

Shaun Newton [30, AMR, English]

Another reason Marco would be staying on was that Shaun Newton was really, really bad. Uniquely untalented, Shaun was the first earmarked for the exit door, and I couldn't boot him out of it quickly enough. I would have been surprised if there were even any League One clubs interested in his services, his (lack of) talents seemed far more suited to the Conference, but whomever would take him could have him. For free.

Iain Hume [22, AMR/FC, Canadian]

I was surpised to find out that Iain was still so young, given that it felt like he'd been around at this level for an absolute age. He'd already played a season at Leicester after joining from Tranmere in 2005, and he'd done pretty well, scoring nine goals in thirty-seven league games, largely played up front. I saw his role more on the right side of midfield, patrolling the touchline and swinging in crosses, and that he could have a big part to play in our campaign from that position.

Levi Porter [19, AMLC, Emglish]

Levi had represented English at each youth level, and I anticipated that he would continune the run by claiming some Under-21 caps before he reached the age limit. Whether he would go on to win full international honours was far more debatable, he had excellent touch and technique, but a lack of out-and-out pace, particularly as a winger, might just put the top level of the game out of his reach.

Adda Djeziri [17, AML/ST, Danish]

Adda had spent the previous season failing to make a mark at Rangers, and other than in the reserves and Carling Cup, I couldn't see him doing much more at Leicester. He had obvious potential, and though he liked to think of himself as a striker, to me he looked better suited to the wing. I doubted, however, whether his deal would be made permanent before it ran out in January, and he would have to do a lot to win me over.

Strikers

[Age, Position, Nationality]

'DJ' Campbell [24, ST, English]

You'd call yourself 'DJ' as well if your first name was Dudley, which I don't think can be pronounced in anything other than a thick Birmingham accent. Taken from obscurity at Yeading to Brentford by former Leicester boss Martin Allen, DJ spent an relatively unsuccessful season with Birmingham in the Championship before Allen paid £1,500,000 to bring him to the Walkers Stadium. I wasn't sure about him, he had both obvious talents and weaknesses, but he would likely get enough time on the field to try and impress me.

Carl Cort [28, ST, English]

Possibly one of the biggest failures in English football, it still baffles many as to why Bobby Robson paid £7,000,000 to take Carl to Newcastle in 2000 when he hadn't even done that well for Wimbledon. Only sixty-four goals in over two hundred league appearances told all you needed to know, and Leicester was possibly his final chance to achieve success at even a moderately sized club. If he failed here, the only way was down.

Mark de Vries [30, ST, Dutch]

The third former Jambo in the squad, Mark was probably the most surprising to have been a success at Tynecastle. I had been there the day he announced himself to the crowd with a four-goal haul against Hibs, but when Levein had brought him to Leicester, the goals seemed to dry up. Whether that was an indictment of the SPL or ageing legs finally giving way I wasn't sure, but his prowess in the air and the style of football I intended to play meant he could be exactly what the side needed.

Matty Fryatt [20, ST, English]

Signed from Walsall in 2005 after netting twenty-six goals in two League One campaigns, Matty had what you needed to be a success at this level. His early sessions showed him to be good when presented with a chance, and his ability to dribble round defenders almost at will certainly endeared him, and whilst Dudley, Carl and Mark would fight it out for who parternered him, Matty would be the one constant in the side, of that I was already sure.

Overall I was pleased with the squad, there were obvious places where reinforcements were needed, pretty much the entire midfield line being the most pressing need, but even without that I was confident that we would achieve the chairman's target of mid-table. With a few shrewd signings - including, of course, the requisite 'big name' - I honestly felt we had a good shot at a place in the play-offs.

from Peacemaker7:

Good start Terk. So is this going to be the story that finally propels you into the realms of legend?

from Amaroq:

Quality, Terk. Will be following this one with enthusiasm.

from chesterfan2:

Will you be manageing to keep this one up is what I'm thinking.

from Spav:

Harsh, cf2. I think "Whiskey and Women" showed that Terk has what it takes to see out the distance. Good luck, Simon.

from Dixie Flatline:

Excellent start. Looking forward to more.

from sherm:

Echoeing the sentiments of others, Excellent start Terk, looking forward to this one

Wow! Quite a response. I'd like to think I've at least partially proven myself, cf2, I do have a story which has been running for over 2 years Certainly the (grand) hope for this is what PM suggested

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Newport County vs. Leicester, Newport Stadium

Friendly, Sunday 9th July 2006

The starting line-up for your first friendly doesn't matter overly much, I'd already decided to change the whole eleven at half-time anyway. I was much more of a believer in fielding your best line-up in your final warm-up match, but as the coach pulled up outside the Newport Stadium, I was still a good way from knowing what my best eleven was.

The side taking to the pitch in the first half against the Conference South side was: Fülöp; Kaebi, Kenton, Kisnorbo, Clarke; Ferreira, Wesolowski, Clemence, Porter; De Vries, Fryatt. Like any manager will tell you, I wasn't too bothered about the result of these games, the more important thing was to get the players fit, have a look at everyone in a game situation and cement an idea of who should start against Barnsley on opening day. I told the lads just to go out and enjoy themselves, it was a lovely summer's day, just the sort that would have parks across the country filled with kids using jumpers for goalposts.

Both sides were fielding standard 4-4-2 systems, and for the Newport players, the game was obviously one they were fired up for. We were clearly the biggest side they were going to face in their pre-season, we were likely the biggest side they'd face in the entire campaign unless they managed a good FA Cup run, and for the first five minutes they tore into us, winning every ball and running circles round our static-looking defenders.

The one thing they couldn't do was score, and as soon as our lads sized up their opponent's actual talent levels, the game settled down into the pattern that was more expected. Our plan for the season, or at least to open with, was to get the ball wide, attack down the flanks and get crosses into the box. I'd always admired the way Manchester United had played in the nineties, they must have got more crosses into the danger area than any other side, and it was no surprise that they simply scored more goals. It was a philosophy I agreed with, certainly at Championship level anyway, and so full backs and wings who could deliver a ball in the final third were of paramount importance.

There wasn't much goalmouth action early on in the game, both Ferreira and Porter were struggling to keep hold of the ball when found by Wesolowski and Clemence, but eventually the breakthrough came, and in a fashion that brought a smile to my face. Given the ball down the right by Kaebi, Marco Ferreira skipped past the Newport left back and from level with the edge of the penalty area, arrowed a cross towards the six-yard box. Mark de Vries cut across in front of his marker and connected well with the ball, watching it fly into the net before wheeling away for an understated celebration.

One was soon two, though this was a much scrappier affair. Wesolowski and Fryatt worked a nice move between them on the edge of the box, but the Australian's shot pinged back into the crowded penalty area after hitting the post. De Vries was first to react, but swung his leg at fresh air, and as he lost his balance and tumbled to the ground, Porter got a toe to the ball and gave his shot just enough power to creep over the line for the goal.

The first half team finished with three goals to their name after Mark de Vries grabbed his second on thirty-three minutes. Again it was born of my desire to see the players get down the flanks, this time Ferreira tucked inside and rolled the ball to Kaebi who came steaming through on the overlap. The Iranian full back got the the byline almost unchallenged and hooked in a cross which De Vries slid to meet just four yards from goal, getting just in front of the Newport 'keeper and joining the ball in the net as he skidded across the turf.

The tannoy announcer had to earn his money as the teams came out for the second half. As well as our eleven changes, Newport had made five of their own, and by the time he finished reading our the list he had been handed, the game was already re-started. We had come out with: Nielsen; Maybury, N'Gotty, Stearman, Sheehan; Hume, Chambers, Helling, Djeziri; Cort, Campbell and they had departed onto the field to my call of "You've got three to beat.." I had no idea they'd take it so seriously.

In ten minutes they had their first, Carl Cort had drawn a fine save from Mark Ovendale to win a corner, and when Stearman floated it in to the near post, it was Cort who arrived first, getting a clear yard on his marker before stooping low to make contact with the ball and head it in off the post. Soon afterwards they were just one behind the first half team, and it was easily the pick of the bunch. Adda Djeziri picked the ball up thirty yards from goal, cut in from his left wing and when he reached the eighteen yard box, unleashed a ferocious shot which ripped into the top right corner of Ovendale's net. The Dane's determination to show me he could strike a ball was well noted.

Adda also proved his wing credentials with his involvement in the sixth of the afternoon, in much the same fashion as Ferreira had in the first half, he launched a cross towards the near post, Cort flicking the ball back towards the penalty spot and strike partner Dudley cracking a first-time shot into the bottom corner.

The chase for a fourth was intense, I couldn't remember having seen the last ten minutes of a friendly match played at such a pace, but it paid off when, with only a minute to go, Iain Hume drifted in off his wing to strike. Helling took the ball from Clemence just inside the Newport half, and after moving forward a few paces, picked out a perfect ball between the centre back and left back which Hume raced onto. The Canadian took one touch to steady himself before threading the ball between Ovendale and his near post, and causing raucous celebrations amongst the eleven players on the field.

Newport County 0 - 7 Leicester

(De Vries 21, 33; Porter 24; Cort 55; Djeziri 61; Campbell 79; Hume 89)

Man of the Match: Clive Clarke (8)

from Peacemaker7:

Certainly the (grand) hope for this is what PM suggested

I certainly hope so because I know and you know that you certainly have the talent to be the second best writer on this forum and I want to see you prove it

from BobBev:

Originally posted by Peacemaker7:

I certainly hope so because I know and you know that you certainly have the talent to be the second third best writer on this forum and I want to see you prove it

Only joking PM is right Simon - you do have the talent and I am certainly looking forward to seeing how this one develops.

from Spav:

Originally posted by Peacemaker7:

I certainly hope so because I know and you know that you certainly have the talent to be the second best writer on this forum and I want to see you prove it

He has the talent to be a better writer than you eh? What with Amaroq being number one

from Peacemaker7:

He has the talent to be a better writer than you eh? What with Amaroq being number one

Number one my arse. On the all time list Amaroq isn't even in the top ten

from Peacemaker7:

He has the talent to be a better writer than you eh?

And actually, yes Simon has the talent to be as good as me. One of the very few here if I'm being honest. Some call it arrogance, but they're just jealous.

On the other hand, few know if I'm being serious or joking. (although I'm not joking about Simon's talent and he knows it.)

I didn't expect to ignite quite such a discussion over my talents As PM says, I know I've got the talent to write better than I have done on FMS, and all I can say is that this is intended to prove it.

------------------------------------------------------------------

"I know he's had his problems, he didn't really set the world on fire at Middlesbrough."

"You don't have to convince me, Michael. It's just what I asked you for, he's a good name."

"And it's a free transfer, it's really nothing of a risk. I think he really could do well at this level. We want to offer him a two year deal."

"Consider it done."

I wasn't being entirely truthful with Milan. I wasn't anywhere near sure that Malcolm Christie could succeed in the Championship, indeed like most I thought he was a bit of a big name flop after his time at the Riverside, but the lure of a recognised name who wouldn't impact on my transfer budget, but would satisfy the chairman's need for shirt sales was too strong to resist. Malcolm eagerly signed on and the deal was complete in time for our friendly against Grimsby.

Grimsby vs. Leicester, Blundell Park

Friendly, Saturday 15th July 2006

The competition amongst the squad that changing the entire side had brought against Newport was something I wanted to stick with through this game at least, and so the lads were aware before kick-off that none of them would get more than forty-five minutes. Nielsen began in goal with McAuley, Kenton, Hellings and Clarke in the back four. Chambers, Kishishev, Wesolowski and Porter made up the midfield whilst those charged with finding the net were Christie and De Vries.

Having got the summer rust out of their legs against Newport, the performance at Blundell park was much sharper from the word go. With instructions again to get the ball wide whenever possible, Chambers and Porter had a lot of work to do, but it paid off in the ninth minute. Porter played a one-two with Kishishev just inside him and whipped a cross into the box. Christie had first swing at it, but the former Middlesbrough man's shot was parried, Wesolowski on hand to tap home the rebound from six yards.

The guys had something of a swagger in their step after James' goal, playing some nice one-touch stuff and barely giving Grimsby a look-in. A second goal wasn't far away, and came on the quarter hour. There had been a few eyebrows raised at the signing of Christie, if you're only as good as your last game, then he's pretty terrible, but he was doing his best to silence his doubters. With Stearman on the bench, Kishishev took responsibility for the corners, and his accurate delivery was guided into the net by the inside of Christie's right boot.

It was almost inevitable, given the ease with which we were playing, that Grimsby would find a way back into the match. To be honest, after the second goal it looked like the first half side had had enough and were more interested in trying to impress the eight-thousand strong crowd with some individual skill. Grimsby came close twice before finally pulling one back with only two minutes of the half left. Jimmy Nielsen's two sharp saves had spared the blushes of the defence, but when the Dane came for a cross and missed it wildly, there was nobody covering for him and Andy Taylor had the easiest job to sidefoot home from eight yards.

The second half side didn't have much to beat, but they were determined to do so. Fülöp took over in goal with Maybury, Stearman, Kisnorbo and Sheehan patrolling the space in front of him. Bruno N'Gotty made a rare appearance in the centre of midfield alongside Stephen Clemence whilst Kaebi and Ferreira were installed on the wings. I was tempted to give Christie another fifteen minutes in his first run-out for the club, but my original plans won out and Hume took to the field up front alongside Matty Fryatt.

We took a little while to get going after all the changes, but with twenty minutes of the half gone, Clemence and Ferreira worked space down the left and Ferreira headed for the by-line. He faked to cross deep to the back post, but had seen Fryatt peel off his marker and cut the ball back to him by the penalty spot. Matty took one touch to control and then placed his shot in the top corner as if there were nothing easier in the world.

We should have been four in front three minutes later when Hume cut into the box from the right and was felled by the outstretched leg of a Grimsby defender, but Clemence's penalty effort struck the top of the crossbar and looped into the crowd. It was only a temporary set back though, as Hosain Kaebi raced onto a lay-off from N'Gotty on the edge of the area and his first-time shot whistled into the corner of the net, putting us four to the good on the day.

Alan Maybury limped off with quarter of an hour remaining, the former Ireland international had taken a blow which left him with a dead leg. Shaun Newton took up a place on the right wing with Kaebi dropping back into defence, though the Iranian still got far enough forward to have a say in our final goal of the game. Having won a free kick on the right flank, Kaebi brushed himself off and delivered in to the penalty spot, Fryatt went down under the influence of a Grimsby defender, but as everyone else appealed to the referee, Iain Hume took aim and swept the ball into the net, a little example of what he could do if he were given the chance.

Grimsby 1 - 5 Leicester

(Taylor 43)

(Wesolowski 9, Christie 15, Fryatt 65, Clemence m/pen 68, Kaebi 70, Hume 89)

Man of the Match: Hosain Kaebi (8)

from Peacemaker7:

I didn't expect to ignite quite such a discussion over my talents. As PM says, I know I've got the talent to write better than I have done on FMS, and all I can say is that this is intended to prove it.

I like to encourage people I know have genuine talent but for whatever reason never really express it on here. Yourself is at the top of the list, others such as Gino and Displaced gave up and went away, which was a shame.

I can joke about Amaroq and HD and others because they don't need to be told they have talent. (And neither do I for that matter, I know my own self ) I know you know you have talent, but I do think you need to be co-erced a bit into truly believing it, and in showing it. OK, in the grand scheme of things what we post here is nothing really but even so, I want you to shut the doubters up. Especially as some of the ones who make the 'funny' comments about you have as much talent as Basil Brush.

from HD:.......

boom boom!

I know I have the talent, I'm far more arrogant about the work I do away from FMS. For whatever reason I've just never been able to show that on here, and your encouragement is appreciated

---------------------------------------

The harsh, tungsten light of the lamp on my desk may have been playing its part in keeping me awake, but it was also responsible for the crushing headache and I made a mental note to have it replaced by a soft-light bulb as I was sure there were many of these long nights in front of me.

The window was wide open in an attempt to welcome in some cooling night air, but the humidity prevented any such help, and with the air conditioning on the blink, we'd had to resort to big desk fans to at least partially stop the sweating. All the open windows were, in fact doing, was inviting in the local insect life that had been attracted by the light.

Whisky had replaced the coffee was Milan and I tried to stay awake. The time had come for a decision on on who to hire as assistant manager, and whilst it would be me working closely with them, Milan had insisted on having his say. Three candidates had progressed to the stage of an interview, and all three had impressed with what they had to say.

Kevin Paxton, a youth coach at Sheffield United had been the first candidate, and his references glowed but I got the feeling he was a shark who would eventually make his move for my job. Craig Mulholland held a similar position at Rangers as Kevin did at the Blades and though I was hugely impressed by his interview, Milan was hesitant. He said it was due to Craig's age - not yet out of his twenties - but I felt it had more to do with the fact that he couldn't understand the thick Glaswegian accent. Our own goalkeeping coach Mike Stowell had been the third interviewee, and Milan's favourite, though my impression was that we would benefit more from Mike staying in his current role.

It was a circle we couldn't extricate ourselves from, neither of us wanting to concede ground in what we felt should be our decision. Finally, however, as the meeting threatened to pass into the new morning, Milan came up with the only way to sort it out. "Heads it's Mike, tails it's Craig." A two pence piece was retrieved from his pocket and flicked high towards the ceiling. It spun quickly down to the floor and we both started at it. Milan offered his hand in congratulations. Craig Mulholland would be my new assistant manager.

Decisions on players had been far easier to come by. Former Manchester United and Aston Villa midfielder Eric Djemba Djemba - 'The Djemba Twins' as I wittily dubbed him ' signed a two year deal after his release by the Villans. A Cameroonian international, Eric had come in for a trial and within an hour done enough to prove that he warranted a contract. Twenty-six caps of international experience, and it was obvious why United had brought him in from Nantes in the first place.

Further Premiership and international experience was sought in the shape of former Arsenal and Middlesbrough midfielder Ray Parlour. Primarily chased to fill the hole on the right wing, he could just as happily play in the centre of the park. The thirty-three year old veteran of three hundred and eighty five career games eventually turned us down though, despite a lack of offers from elsewhere. I was determined to find experienced players though, and my eyes turned towards Seth Johnson and Igor Biscan, both available on free transfers. Seth quickly penned a four year deal, eager just to get back in the game whilst Igor had to wait to see if the Home Office would grant him a work permit.

The only players to walk out of the door were ageing Scottish goalkeeper Rab Douglas, who made a free transfer move to Swansea and right winger Shaun Newton, likewise released for free to join another club, his choice was Ian Holloway's Plymouth. The Scot quotient at the club was immediately pumped back up with the arrival of Mulholland after a compensation package had been agreed with Rangers. His signature cost nearly half a million pounds to secure, so he had to impress Milan fast, but I was convinced he was the right man for the job.

My first loan deal was completed on the eve of our third pre-season friendly, a trip to Bradford's Valley Parade, and saw Argentinian defender Emiliano Insúa join for the duration of the season from Liverpool. The nineteen year old had played for Boca before making the switch to Anfield - where he was yet to appear - but a languid and skillful player, he looked like he'd make himself a success in the Premiership, let alone at Championship level. I had been interested in his compatriot, Sebastian Leto, but with Clarke and Fülöp already on loan at the club, there wasn't space to accommodate him.

I had to return north to finalise the sale of my flat in Edinburgh, so charge of the team was left in the hands of Craig Mulholland for the trip to Bradford. A mid-week evening game, a text message at half past nine let me know we had been forced to settle for a one-all draw. Malcolm Christie had continued his charm offensive towards the fans with our goal, though it was cancelled out by a Hosain Kaebi own goal. There was bad news also, Kaebi having been helped off in the second half with three fractured ribs.

With the quick sale of the flat pushed through - I accepted an offer of some twenty thousand less than its value just to get the process done - I returned to the club to try and finalise some more important deals. The news that Igor Biscan had been granted a conditional work permit was wonderful, I had lined up the Champions League winning midfielder as one to build my side around, and his arrival on a three year deal was greeted with excitement from the fans.

With our final two friendlies cancelled - much to my annoyance - and no one else willing to step into the fray, we arranged to bounce games against the reserves. Simply as an effort to get the players' fitness levels somewhere near where they should be, the games were a success, though the crowds of little more than two hundred suggested they weren't the most popular of ideas.

Time was ticking quicker and quicker towards our league-opening game, a trip to promotion favourites West Brom, but there was still time enough for players to be bought and sold before the big kick-off. With my worries that Levi Porter would not be up to this level of competition quite yet, Stephen Glass was brought in from Dunfermline. Cheap and experienced, he would be a good player for Levi to learn from and added to the strength in depth that was vital for success at any level.

The arrivals of Djemba Djemba, Biscan, Johnson and Glass (who could also play in the centre) had pushed Stephen Clemence much further down the pecking order than I had anticipated when I'd joined the club. When an offer came in from Wolves, even though it was just £100,000 I felt I had to accept it, particularly in the interests of the player, and he jumped at the chance to make the move.

The final arrival was tied up just forty-eight hours before we traveled to the Albion, and saw English winger Kenny Pavey return to his homeland having spent most of his career in Sweden. The 26 year old, right-sided attacker had just signed for AIK in Stockholm, but they were willing to accept £350,000 and Kenny eagerly sealed his return to England.

West Bromwich Albion vs. Leicester, The Hawthorns

Saturday 5th August 2006

It was the classic opening day scene, glorious August sun beating down on a full stadium. The temperature was in the high-20s and the players were going to need plenty of fluids throughout the ninety minutes.

With Kaebi out nursing his ribs, Richard Stearman was given the right back berth, Bruno N'Gotty, Patrick Kisnorbo and Clive Clarke joining him across the backline. Stephen Glass had also picked up a knock ruling him out of the match, which left Levi Porter to fill in on the left of midfield. Seth Johnson and Igor Biscan would patrol the centre of the field whilst Kenny Pavey made his debut on the right. DJ Campbell and Matty Fryatt were picked to lead the line and cause the West Brom defence as many problems as they possibly could.

West Brom had been installed as favourites for the title by many of the bookmakers, who also saw them as the far more likely side to claim the three points in this encounter. Tony Mowbray had nurtured a reputation for playing good, flowing football during his time at Hibs and was determined his West Brom side would be known for the same. My plan, in this game at least, was to get the ball wide and hump crosses into the box at every opportunity. Proper English football.

Any predictions of a cagey start as each side carefully sized each other up were blown clear out of the water inside the first seven minutes. Levi Porter's neat footwork had won a free kick on the left when Martin Albrechtsen swept his legs from underneath him. Clive Clarke lined the kick up on the touchline and fizzed his effort over. Campbell stole free at the near post and flicked a header across Dean Kiely. DJ wheeled away with an arm aloft, believing his attempt had crept in the corner. It had actually bounced off the foot of the post, but only as far as Pavey, who marked his debut by tapping in from two yards.

The euphoria lasted a full five minutes before the home side were on level terms, and that their flowing play had picked us apart in those intervening minutes, it was difficult to argue that they didn't deserve it. Zoltan Gera was quite obviously, just from the few minutes that I'd seen him, a Premiership quality player plying his trade in the Championship, and it was he who carved out the opportunity for their goal. Knocking the ball in between Clarke and Kisnorbo, he rode the Australian's challenge and laid a soft pass across the box. Kevin Phillips met the ball with a rocket shot from eight yards and Fülöp was left with no chance.

The West Brom goal was just a little taste of what was to come in the rest of the half. Time and again Mowbray's team picked their way though our midfield and defence; neither Biscan nor Johnson seemed to have anything in their armoury with which to stop Koren and Morrison controlling the game from the middle of the park. They should have taken the lead when Scottish youngster Morrison played a perfect ball in behind our central defence, but on loan striker Roman Bednar fired a weak shot straight at Fülöp.

Fülöp had to be on the best of his form to keep us in the match, and before the break had pulled off two saves that could be described as nothing other than world class. The first came just before the twenty minute mark; Jon Greening's free kick from the left was headed out to the edge of the penalty area by N'Gotty, but Gera was prowling and his first time volley was arrowing for the top corner until Fülöp's fingertips tipped it onto the crossbar. When Phillips was played clean through eight minutes later with Bednar in support and our defence scrambling, it seemed the couldn't fail to score, but after parrying Phillips' effort, Fülöp scrambled across the goal to tip wide Bednar's follow-up.

Given West Brom's domination, it seemed, quite frankly, unbelievable that we could go into half time in the lead. Yet somehow we did. Having weather the Albion storm and as the clock ticked into injury time, we broke quickly down the right flank. Stearman played a ball down te flank, releasing DJ Campbell beyond Paul Robinson. Campbell quickly swung a cross into the box and Fryatt took one touch to control before sliding a shot inside Dean Kiely' near post, to the sheer amazement of the home fans.

Fryatt's goal had taken the wind out of West Brom. That much was clear in the first moments after the break. They had trudged off down the tunnel with their heads hung and they returned the same, a confusion apparent as to just how they found themselves behind. That only grew as the game got back underway. Matty Fryatt crossed from the left and as Kenny Pavey controlled the ball he felt a shove in the back from Robinson, collapsed to the floor and won a penalty. Campbell stepped up and sent Kiely the wrong way.

Any hope that the home fans had of their team mounting a comeback was fading fast, and a number of them were packing up and going home with some half an hour left to play. We freshened up the side with a few subs, and any doubt over the points was settled. Clive Clarke won and delivered a free kick from the left, it was missed by everyone until it came to Iain Hume at the back post. The Canadian swung a boot, hitting a first time shot passed the sprawling Kiely and giving us a size of victory that could not have been countenanced before kick-off.

West Bromich Albion 1 - 4 Leicester

(Phillips 7)

(Pavey 2, Fryatt 45+1, Campbell pen 47, Hume 66)

Man of the Match: Bruno N'Gotty (9)

The emotional high of his debut was almost inevitably to be followed by a come-down. The summer months, seemingly an age to his mind, were spent amongst dreams of grandeur and stardom. Now that he had crossed the line into the first team, he didn't for the first minute believe anything would stand in his way.

Others saw it differently. MacDonald and Jardine had given him his debut as a taster, something to keep him eager, not as a signal of intent that he were now a regular member of the first team. BY the end of October Michael realised as much, sitting in the stands on a Saturday afternoon forced to watch the stars he had expected to be alongside.

The season saw Hearts back to the top of the Scottish game, they finished in the end just a few points shy of champions Celtic. But as his dream of driving the side to success over the Old Firm passed by, Michael became further convinced that he was hard done by.

He did manage six games by the summer of 1988. The early rounds of the Scottish Cup had seen his comeback and late season injuries gave him the chance to feature in the league once more. He was no longer alongside his idol, however. John Robertson had moved on to Newcastle before the final few months of the season were to be played, a move that some observers blamed for the title being claimed by the green half of Glasgow.

The pain was something he never felt more than during the derbies, however. Less than a year previously it had remained a dream that he would ever take to the field in Edinburgh's showpiece event, yet now he expected it. Twice they drew with the green and white enemy during that season, and they fell to defeat at Easter Road. But for ninety minutes at Tynecastle he watched on as his teammates ensured the adulation of the crowd with a two-nil success. It was almost enough to make him cry.

"Perhaps the most unexpected result of the opening weekend was Leicester's apparent demolition of West Brom at The Hawthorns. I'm not sure anyone saw that coming for Tony Mowbray's side. Will Leicester be able to follow it up with a win over Preston tomorrow evening?"

"I think it'll be a close encounter. Both sides have new managers in charge, Leicester proved on Saturday that they can be clinical when presented with a chance and I'd make them slight favourites if just for the fact that the match is at the Walkers Stadium."

Watching Sky's Football League review show, I was already beginning to feel there was a weight of expectation. The win over West Brom had not been expected by even the most ardent of fans, but its aftermath saw even the most pessimistic thinking that victory over Preston would come easily.

I found myself somewhere in the middle ground. If we were to make a run for the play-offs, it would be our home form that was crucial as so often is the case. Paul Simpson was a clearly talented young manager and his Preston side would be well-drilled. But I could not discount the confidence that the boys had shown in training after their West Brom win.

There was still transfer business to be dealt with in the lead up to the game. Scunthorpe came forth with a bid matching our £50,000 asking price for Elvis Hammond. We'd offered the striker around various clubs in the leagues below our and Scunny were the only ones to bite. Elvis had no business playing at the level we wanted to be, and the space he would leave on the wage bill would be better used elsewhere.

Leicester vs. Preston North End, Walkers Stadium

Tuesday 8th August 2006

It was my first game at the Walkers Stadium, 'd only first been on the pitch the day before the match. To be honest I was a little underwhelmed with the visuals. It seemed another in the line of generic modern stadia that were popping up around the country. The stands were quite close to the pitch, however, and with a capacity north of thirty-thousand - which I was assured would be reached near every time we played there - there would be plenty chance for an atmosphere to build.

As we walked out onto the pitch to face Preston - only one change made to the side, Alan Maybury replacing the tired Richard Steadman - there were fewer than a thousand empty seats and the noise was indeed impressive. Preston were sporting some talented players in their line-up, most notably on-loan Newcastle striker Andy Carroll and young, versatile defender Billy Jones.

Whilst the West Brom game had begun in a whirlwind fashion, raining both chances and goals alike, the start of my home debut was a much more cautious affair. We had put together the better moves, getting the ball out wide and attempting crosses into the box but by the fifteenth minute neither side had created a clear chance on goal.

Bruno N'Gotty and Patrick Kisnorbo were having few problems dealing with Preston's lone striker system. Carroll was getting little support from his five-man midfield and our centre backs had him firmly in their pocket, any ball that did break his way was soon snuffed out before it could become a chance.

Levi Porter had picked up the first yellow card of the match in the eighteenth minute, referee Barry Knight taking exception to his challenge from behind on Paul Gallagher. Our left winger responded in the right fashion though, his twenty-fifth minute, in-swinging corner from the right met the head of N'Gotty and sailed into the top corner of the net. Andy Lonergan had been left with no chance in the Preston goal and we had a deserved lead.

The fans were up and singing, easily drowning out the three-thousand strong traveling support, and our players responded in kind. We should have been two in front when Campbell was played clear by Igor Biscan, but one-on-one with Lonergan, it was the 'keeper who came out on top, beating his effort away after standing tall against the striker.

In the end we had to wait until the second half to find our second goal. With plenty still making their way back to their seats after leaving for their half time pie, we broke quickly up the right, a tactic that was quickly becoming our most potent threat. Biscan played a ball to Pavey who swung a first time cross into the box. Campbell stole in at the near post in front of Jones but his header cannoned off the inside of the post. It was a temporary reprieve, Fryatt was on hand to tap in the rebound from just three yards.

Preston were still struggling to offer anything of a threat, though in the light of our two-goal lead, Simpson threw Neil Mellor on up front, withdrawing the defensive minded McKenna from the action. Mellor's presence, a far more physical one than Carroll, caused us a few more problems, but it was nothing that we couldn't deal with, and Fülöp remained largely a spectator of proceedings.

A final chance was given Preston to see if they could force their way back into things when Porter picked up a silly second yellow. When Seth Johnson brought down Danny Pugh just outside the penalty area, Porter felt it necessary to stop the option of a quick free kick. He punted the ball a clear fifty yards from where the kick was to be taken, a disciplinary breach that could end in nothing but his dismissal from the game. Emiliano Insúa was sent on in place of Matty Fryatt with Clive Clarke moved into midfield, but Preston made nothing of their numerical advantage and the final whistle sounded with us comfortable in victory.

Leicester 2 - 0 Preston North End

(N'Gotty 25, Fryatt 46, Porter s/off 63)

Man of the Match: Bruno N'Gotty (8)

"We've got three strikers. I reckon each one of them could play first team at this level." Talking to my youth coach, Jon Rudkin, was an enlightening moment. I had imagined that we would have a bunch of players of middling talent simply taking up space in the under-eighteen side. Players who would go on to make their careers playing part-time in non-league football.

"Ricky Sappleton and Billy McKay are good, Billy in particular could have a future. But for my money the star is Ashley Chambers. No kidding, this guy could go all the way." All three would get plenty of match action in the season ahead, a lack of depth in the reserve squad would see them play for both the under-eighteens and our second string; I would be keeping an eye on how they were doing.

For the moment though. my mind was focused on preparing the first team for the trip to Norwich. Despite six points from our first two outings, the local media wasn't being overly nice to me. A few stories about my lack of experience were starting to worry a few of the players, and comments from rival managers to that effect were causing a few to doubt my abilities.

Norwich vs. Leicester, Carrow Road

Saturday 12th August 2006

The bookies, however, obviously felt different about me. Either that or they were distinctly unimpressed with Norwich. They had made us firm favourites for the clash at Carrow Road, a few of the boys had been reading the morning newspapers and I was a little wary about them getting complacent.

Stearman had obviously not been fit enough to play two games in three days, but after featuring at West Brom he was back in the side for our third game. Stephen Glass was back to full fitness as well and took Levi Porter's place in the side, but otherwise we fielded the same side as had taken six points from our first two games.

Norwich were fielding a couple of players I was more than familiar with given my time watching Scottish football. I had been surprised when Celtic let David Marshall go, though less so after I saw just how good his replacement, Artur Boruc could be. Julien Brellier was a player I was a big fan of. His time at Hearts had been a big success, he was a firm fans' favourite before the board inexplicably let him go with little, if any ceremony.

The game didn't begin with quite the quick tempo I liked to play, Norwich seemed set on boring the life out of us with no intention of actually claiming three points from the match. We took a blow - or rather DJ Campbell did - when the striker got caught by Dion Dublin leaving a foot in a late challenge. Dudley tried to hobble on for a few moments, but it was obvious he had to come off and Malcolm Christie was sent on for his third substitute appearance.

Control of the game was beginning to come with Biscan and Johnson pressing further forward up the park as Norwich sat back. Our first clear chance came on the quarter hour, Biscan sliding a ball in between Taylor and Doherty for Christie, but the former Middlesbrough striker's snap shot was pushed away by Marshall.

Six minutes before half time we took what was a fully deserved lead. Richard Stearman was proving to be a strong creative force, he had helped set up our second against West Brom and it was his incisive ball that put our goal against Norwich in motion. The right back fizzed a pass in to the feet of Igor Biscan on the edge of the penalty area, and with his back to goal the Croatian flicked the ball on towards Christie. Christie shifted the ball onto his right foot, creating a moment of space for himself and his shot flashed passed Marshall and into the net.

The change of ends did Norwich no good, neither did the chance to get some words of wisdom from their manager. It was clear why those who had seen them play already this season had made us favourites for the match, despite the talents of such attacking players as Darren Huckerby in the squad they showed no intent, not even when the game needed rescuing.

To be honest it wasn't doing much for the spectacle of the game. We were more than comfortable in the knowledge that we had the game sewn up even with only a one goal lead and the boys were under instructions to take no risks, not to present Norwich with a chance that they couldn't earn themselves.

We did fashion one clear chance in the second period and again it fell to Christie. Iain Hume had come on down the right and was causing plenty of problems for the Norwich defence. With twelve minutes left on the clock he burned clear passed Shackell down the Norwich left and crossed as he reached the by-line. Christie had the time to take the ball down on his chest and fire a shot at goal, but Marshall moved quickly enough to tip the ball onto the crossbar.

Norwich 0 - 1 Leicester

(Christie 39)

Man of the Match: Patrick Kisnorbo (9)

from milanfan_apoorv:

great start. havent had the time nor oppurtunity to read your other stories but am sure they are all very good.

it would help if everyone doesnt talk about this guy's writing talent, cant we take each story as it comes?

from Peacemaker7:

but am sure they are all very good.

Nah they're crap tbh.

it would help if everyone doesnt talk about this guy's writing talent, cant we take each story as it comes?

In what way would it at all help? Can't see it myself, he needs to be told.

Keep it up Simon

Cheers for the support, guys. Milanfan, I welcomed the discussion of my writing talents, both encouragement and constructive criticism are things which I believe should be discussed more on the forum. How else are we to improve?

And I've written one or two decent stories before, but most of it is just ***** that never gets past ten posts

------------------------------------------------------------------------

He could still hold court at the bar. For this one group of people Michael still held a level of interest. His exploits both as a player and manager had won him fame, the latter had won him fortune. And to those who knew him only by name and reputation, he was still a fascinating man to listen to.

He'd been a regular at the bar for nigh on a decade now, though it was only in the past couple of years that he had been seen there every night.There were nights when he just wanted to be left along, nursing a small whisky or a half-pint at the end of the bar and there were times when he would talk to anyone interested, telling stories of time spent in wonderful cities, winning trophies and being considered amongst the very best.

Tonight had started out in fine storytelling mood. A Rangers fan, a kid who couldn't much be out of his twenties, who had no doubt heard Michael's name from his father, asked about his time at Ibrox. Michael duly obliged and chatted away with the kid for the best part of an hour, but now as the night had well closed in, the revelers making their way from pubs to clubs, he just wanted to sit on his own, just sit and think of nothing in particular.

--

Callum Strang lay, warm in his bed but eyes wide open, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. He had just got Ellen, his six-month old daughter off to sleep, but dared not close his eyes as he knew it was just a matter of time before he heard her cry again. They'd never had this problem with Jamie; he'd been a child only too happy to sleep whenever he was given the chance. Now, at six, the only problem they had was actually getting him up.

The unmistakable ring of his mobile phone pierced the quiet night air. Louise stirred beside him but instead of waking just rolled over and resumed her sleep. Callum slipped out of bed and retrieved the phone from his trousers, dumped tiredly hours earlier in the middle of the floor.

He wasn't quite sure he believed the display. He hadn't had a call from his father in more than two years, and he hadn't answered one in at least five. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind; had his mother finally passed away? Was the old man trying once again to make amends? Ten seconds passed as Callum stared at the phone before he did something he had thought he never would again.

"Hi, Dad."

Campbell Sidelined for Two Months

Leicester Mercury, Monday 14th August 2006

Leicester have this morning revealed that the injury striker DJ Campbell picked up against Norwich is worse than first thought. Initial suggestions were that Campbell had merely sustained some bruising to his foot in a challenge with Norwich's Dion Dublin at Carrow Road on Saturday, but x-rays have shown a broken toe which will keep the former Birmingham City striker out of action for up to eight weeks.

The news is bound to be a blow for new Leicester boss Michael Strang, who has started Campbell in each of his three league matches in charge so far, the ex-Brentford ace repaying his faith so far with one goal, an effort from the penalty spot against West Brom on the opening day of the season.

Questions are now bound to be asked over the depth of talent available at the Walkers Stadium. Malcolm Christie is likely to step into the starting role alongside number one choice Matty Fryatt. That also means, however, that outcast Mark de Vries will undoubtedly play a bigger role in the side, even if just in coming off the bench.

Strang is adamant though, that De Vries is up to the job, "I've known of Mark's talents for a long time now, I watched him score four in his Edinburgh derby debut and I've been a fan ever since. Of course it's a blow to lose DJ, he's started the season in good form, but I've no doubt that, if he's called upon, Mark will be a more than adequate replacement."

Leicester have also confirmed today that midfielder Tommy Tejan-Sie, a seventeen year old midfielder from Sierra Leone - and current member of the Leicester U-18 squad - has put pen to paper on his first professional contract. The three-year deal is reward for Tejan-Sie's excellent start to the season in the youth side, and many will expect him to make the step up to the first team in the coming seasons.

Reserve left winger Jonathan Hayes has agreed a five-month loan deal which will see him join Shrewsbury. Hayes has yet to make an appearance for Leicester's first team and will hope to make an impression during his time at the New Meadow.

I enjoyed reading my name in the paper, to be honest I was already becoming something of a press-whore. I'd stand around charring ro reporters for as long as they wanted after training or a match, just in the hope that the following day I'd see my name in print and maybe have something new for the scrapbook I had kept since I was eighteen.

The previous afternoon I had spent an enjoyable time lying on the sofa, beer and pizza in front of me as I watched the Community Shield on TV. Man United were my favourites for the match - I'd put a fiver on them at two-nil at the bookies - and they roared out of the blocks, Carlos Tevez grabbing a debut goal in just three minutes. From then on it was all Chelsea though, José Mouinho proving why he liked to call himself the 'Special One' as he masterminded his side's comeback. Goals from Michael Essien and Didier Drogba saw them to the trophy, but I was just struck by how much I wanted a crack at that level of the game.

Leicester vs. Charlton, Walkers Stadium

Saturday 19th August 2006

After the first three games of the season, only ourselves and Sheffield Wednesday were left with 100% records. Charlton, one of the pre-season favourites for promotion, had begun their campaign with two victories and one defeat, and the predictions made were of a very tight game indeed.

My plan had been to play Christie in place of Campbell, but the former Middlesbrough man had picked up a bruise to his shin in mid-week training and wasn't quite fit enough come Saturday for a starting place. Mark de Vries came in alongside Fryatt whilst Christie warmed the bench alongside the rest of our substitutes.

There were still people flooding into the ground when we took the lead. The official timing was fifty four seconds and Alan Pardew had only just taken his seat in the Chalrton dugout before he was on the touchline, berating his players. In the first seconds of the match, Clive Clarke had angled a ball across the field towards Kenny Pavey, but Ben Thatcher arrived to intercept, needlessly putting the ball behind for a corner when he had plenty of time to control and clear.

Levi Porter jogged across from the left to take the corner, and his inswinging delivery was aimed right for the edge of the six yard box. Charlton initially looked to be well covered on their marking, but nobody had tracked Seth Johnson's run in from the edge of the penalty area and when the ball cleared Cory Gibbs' head, Johnson connected, angling the ball down into the corner of Nicky Weaver's net.

I suppose those predictions of a tight game could have been true had we not taken such an early lead; but with Charlton now panicked into pushing forward, despite their being more than enough time left, we were finding it easier and easier to pick holes in their defence. Nicky Weaver was forced into a smart save in the tenth minute, Matty Fryatt's ball inside Danny Mills was perfect for Porter to run onto, but the winger's shot was turned away by the Charlton 'keeper.

We grabbed our deserved second goal just after the half hour had passed and it was the best player on the park, Matty Fryatt, who claimed it. Nicky Weaver was forced to rush a clearance under pressure from De Vries and hit the ball straight to Richard Stearman. The defender lofted the ball right back towards the Charlton goal from where he stood on the halfway line. Fryatt took one touch to control before lobbing the back-pedaling Weaver and seeing the ball drop in just under the bar.

Less than two minutes later, we were three goals to the good and had three points in the bag. Having won the ball back just after the restart, Porter played a ball in behind the Charlton defence. Fryatt collected and bore down on Weaver. Just as he went to round the goalkeeper, Jonathan Fortune clipped his heels and down the striker went. The crowd were screaming for a red card but only yellow was shown. The punishment was enough though, Clive Clarke nominated to take the spot kick and thumping it beyond Weaver.

Half time came and went, I didn't really need to say much other than warn them to keep the concentration up. Sixty seconds into the second half I was kinda wishing I had said more as Chris Iwelumo was left alone to head home from Ian Murray's well-delivered free kick, but even then I didn't believe we were going to lose the points.

The lads obviously felt a little differently and were visibly becoming nervous in their play. Passes were going astray and tackles were being pulled out of. We looked almost like we were preparing a 'get out of jail free' card for our visitors. That prompted a tactical shift, bringing off Fryatt and leaving De Vries as the lone striker, we went to a 4-1-4-1 and killed off the game as any kind of a contest.

It worked perfectly, there were no further clear-cut chances for either side in the remaining half hour as we cruised home to a fourth three point haul. The fact that Colchester held Sheffield Wednesday at Layer Road meant that for the first time we were top on our own, two points Wednesday and three above Watford.

Leicester 3 - 1 Charlton

(Johnson 1, Fryatt 31, Clarke pen 33)

(Iwelumo 46)

Man of the Match: Matty Fryatt (9)

There was something of a lack of routine in football management, that was something I was quickly finding out. Running the pub since my playing retirement had been something much more stable, even though I had been haemorrhaging money through it. The only thing certain about my new life was that I would be in the office early almost every morning.

The players had Sunday off after the win over Charlton and I took the morning to enjoy some time with a coffee and a newspaper. Watching Goals on Sunday it was clear as day that Matty Fryatt's goal the previous afternoon was a good yard offside. I couldn't have cared less, however, and said so to the interviewer at the time, though watching Charlton striker Chris Iwelumo's bitching about the effect it had on the match amused me thoroughly.

The afternoon was spent preparing for the mid-week Carling Cup tie against Rochdale, and watching tapes of the early season performances from the under eighteen side. They had been beating all and sundry in their league matches, and the first round of the national cup was scheduled for Tuesday evening. I made a note to make sure I went along and saw them live.

The reserves played at a stadium in Hinckley and there was a crowd of over two hundred present for the cup match against Carlisle. Our under eighteens were unbeaten in first few matches, and their performance was just as impressive when I was present in the stands.

By half time they had netted four goals. Recently-signed pro Tommy Tejan-Sie claimed the first two, the first a free kick curled into the top corner and the second a bullet header to the 'keeper's left. The player I had really come to watch though was Ashley Chambers, already the scorer of four goals in the season, and he didn't disappoint as he managed two true poacher's efforts to ensure a place in the second round.

Rochdale vs. Leicester, Spotland

Carling Cup 1st Round, Wednesday 23rd August 2006

Much has been said over the years of clubs playing weakened sides in the Carling Cup. The media high horse claiming the devaluing of the competition, not perhaps paying enough attention to the fact that in the pressure-cooker of the modern game it is sometimes the only - and the perfect - place for a youngster to learn his trade in a first team.

I was firmly in the camp that gave fringe players their chance to impress, and so the defence had an unfamiliar ring to it. Sergio Hellings, Darren Kenton and Emiliano Insúa came in whilst Ferreira, the Djemba twins and Wesolowski lined up in midfield. Iain Hume and Malcolm Christie were partnered up front, both hoping to impress given Campbell's injury and the fact that Matty Fryatt would be out for a couple of weeks with a neck injury.

The boys were all eager to impress and they more than did that in the early stages of the match. Only six minutes had passed when Seth Johnson - moved out to the left wing for the game - delivered a corner from the left and Hellings stole in at the back post to head beyond Nuno Santos.

The second goal was quick in coming, even our fringe side were way too much for Rochdale to contain. The goal had a route-one feel about it, Paul Henderson’s booming goal kick was flicked on by Iain Hume and Christie raced clear of the home defence. Faced with only Santos in his way, Christie drew the keeper right of the goal and then deftly clipped the ball round him to the left and in off the far post.

We should have been three up inside twelve minutes, but it was evident that finishing was not the most polished part of Hume's game. The Canadian had started brightly and when he dropped deep off the defence, linking between midfield and attack he was the best player on the park, but faced with a one-on-one chance far simpler than Christie had converted, he dragged his shot five feet left of the post.

Hume again had the chance to extend our lead on the half hour; unmarked when Johnson's free kick looped into the box, he got underneath the ball and watched in disgust as his header sailed over the crossbar. And we were to pay for his profligacy before the break. With their first chance coming as our defence was caught cold, Muirhead's ball in for Chris Dagnall saw the striker take one touch before burying the ball past Henderson.

My team talk was inevitably changed, but the emphasis was again on keeping our concentration, only this time in front of goal. We were carving out chance after chance but failing to put them away and make the game - and therefore our passage to the second round - as safe as it should have been.

My patience with Iain Hume finally snapped just after the hour mark. Taking the ball just inside the penalty area to the left of the goal, his quick feet carved himself a glorious opening. All he could do with it, however, was fire straight at Nuno Santos, not even requiring the Portuguese to move. He had done enough in the end to be awarded the man of the match, but Hume was soon sitting on the bench, De Vries on the field in his place.

As it was we needn-t have worried about the third. Save for Dagnall's goal, Rochdale failed to carve out a chance for themselves, and Henderson could have got an early start on the drive home for all he was needed on the pitch. Djemba Djemba had been particularly impressive in snuffing out anything that the hosts could muster. Patrolling across the front of the back four, the Cameroonian was full of energy and his tackles were timed to perfection and had it been my choice, it would have been he who received the post-match champagne from the competition sponsors.

Rochdale 1 - 2 Leicester

(Dagnall 41)

(Hellings 6, Christie 10)

Man of the Match: Iain Hume (8)

Four Four Two Magazine

September 2006 Issue

There has never been much written about Michael Strang. Speak his name to 'the man in the street' and most would return a blank stare. Even amongst supporters of Rangers it may only be the most ardent who remember the ginger-haired midfielder who played nearly two hundred games in the course of claiming seven league titles. For there is something unassuming about the man. When Four Four Two meets with him at Leicester City's training ground he is quietly spoken, wearing a club t-shirt and and tracksuit pants as he walks over to shake our hand. One quickly gets the impression that this is not a man who will be at ease talking about himself.

Much of Strang's anonymity in footballing circles can be understood with a more detailed look at the facts of his career. Having broken into the Hearts first team with very little fanfare, introduced over time by then co-managers Alex MacDonald and Sandy Jardine, Strang made the move to Ibrox before he had established himself as a regular in Edinburgh.

However, he never entirely became part of the furniture at Rangers either. Less than a hundred of his appearances in the famous blue shirt came as starts, and each of the six Scotland caps he earned during his career came from the substitutes' bench. It wasn't until a 1996 move to Preston that Strang found a regular starting place, though by the League One (the Division Two) winning 1999-2000 campaign, Strang was again warming the bench and time was finally called on his supporting role career.

It's when we settle down half an hour later in Strang's office that he comes alive and our expectations are quickly proven wrong...

The article continued with an interview I'd done with the guy just a day after our season-opener against West Brom. I had talked about my ambitions for the season, which in public I had labeled as no more than a top-ten finish but with the start we had made, I was revising all the time. I had talked about my desire, now that I was back in the game, to manage in Spain and back home in Scotland. I certainly saw my short-term future at Leicester, but beyond my four years I was as likely to seek pastures new as I was to stay on at the Walkers Stadium.

Sheffield Wednesday vs. Leicester, Hillsborough

Saturday 26th August 2006

"I'm not playing Hume up front. Not in a league match. Stick Ashley on the bench and hope we don't have to use him." Something about Iain Hume just told me that I didn't want to play him up front if I could help it. I had no confidence that his finishing would be any better than it had been against Rochdale, and in such a cut-throat league wasted chances were not something we could afford.

In the end Ashley Chambers would finish the match playing as a lone striker. Brought on at the hour mark when Christie took a blow to the head, we played the last fifteen minutes with five in midfield as we tried desperately to hang onto the lead we had carved out for ourselves.

Wednesday had, along with us, surprised many with their start to the season. Sitting just two points behind us in the table, only their draw at Colchester denying them a 100% record, they looked up for being the ones to kick us off our early pedestal.

If I'm honest, they were the better side throughout the ninety minutes, they played the ball between them with an ease that we couldn't get near. What saved us throughout the day was that their one up front - Jermaine Johnson in the first half, Francis Jeffers in the second - had trouble holding the ball up and bringing the midfield into the attack. Both N'Gotty and Kisnorbo were able to bully them off the ball, and even if initially we couldn't muster anything of our own, it at least kept us in the game.

The first half looked to have played out goalless in front of the thirty-one thousand fans packed into Hillsborough, but two minutes into the planned three of injury time, that all changed. We hadn't created anything of note in the match -a couple of long shots that drifted harmlessly wide was the best we could offer - but when Biscan played a ball in behind Bates and Wood in the Wednesday defence, Mark de Vries was alive and alert to the opportunity and hit a first time shot past Lee Grant for the lead.

The boys were bouncing during the break, the energy provided by Mark's finish meant that a team talk was barely necessary. They knew that, given how little of the game we had controlled, we were lucky to even be in it, and that we'd have to be prepared for a home side fightback in the second period.

I was probably more nervous with a lead than I had been when the scores were leveled, but I was calmed four minutes after the break when we doubled our advantage. Wednesday looked a little shell-shocked at their fortunes, and we grabbed the initiative, forcing Lee Grant to turn Levi Porter's snap shot round the post for a corner. Porter raced over to take the corner himself, and his pinpoint delivery gave Bruno N'Gotty the space and time to head home unmarked at the back post.

We suddenly had something very definite to hold onto, and I was wary of the players pushing forward for a third and falling into the trap of gifting Sheffield a way back into the match. Five minutes later, that was exactly what happened. Committing too many men to an attack, we were left without cover when Milan Rapaic's long ball sent Jeffers clear. The former Arsenal man may not be the quickest, but in the space afforded him even he could not fail and he slid a shot to the right of Fülöp and inside the post to cut our gap in half.

It wasn't long after this that Ashley made his debut appearance, taking to the field after Christie was hurt in a clash of heads with Bates. The youngster did, to be honest, look a little star-struck at being in the first team, but after the early nerves had worn off he worked hard and did enough to impress and suggest that he be given another chance. When De Vries was taken off with fifteen minutes to go and Hume brought on as an extra midfielder, we clamped down the game and killed off any chance that the hosts had of mounting the final stage of their comeback.

Sheffield Wednesday 1 - 2 Leicester

(Jeffers 54)

(De Vries 45+2, N'Gotty 49)

Man of the Match: Levi Porter (8)

"It is safe to say we have been encouraged by the start you have made, Michael." The monthly board meeting was going well, the run of results we had begun the season with had them nigh on eating out of my hand.

"Things are good financially as well. We recorded a profit this month despite the transfer window. Six hundred thousand pounds." The meeting continued mind-numbingly, things I was required to sit through but that had no real effect on my job, nor that I had any real interest in. I just wanted to get back down to the training ground, but Milan cornered me after the meeting broke up.

"I just wanted to say, you really are doing well. Better than any of us expected. How are things going for you?"

"Good, I'm enjoying it. Everyone's really easy to work with."

"How are things looking for Saturday?"

"Could be a bit sticky. We've got Fülöp, Kishishev and Kisnorbo away on international duty. And Matty Fryatt's back training but he'll not be ready for Stoke."

"Well, good luck. I'll see you after the match."

When I got back down to the training pitches, the players had just finished their warm-up and were ready to get into the serious stuff. Matty was still moving about a little gingerly after his neck injury, he wasn't going to be involved in any of the contact sessions - the five-a-side or such - but he could undoubtedly do the fitness work.

Foxes set for Stoke Visit

Leicester Mercury, 1st September 2006

Leicester will try to extend their winning run in the league to six games tomorrow afternoon when Stoke are the visitors to the Walkers Stadium. Already the Foxes are the only club with a one hundred percent league record in the four English league, and such are the raised expectations of the fans, most are expecting another three points.

Stoke have not had quite the start they would have wanted to their Championship season. Billed as play-off hopefuls in the summer - certainly thought more likely to achieve that goal than their opponents tomorrow - they are sitting down in tenth place having claimed just two wins and a draw from their opening six games.

Stoke have no injury worries and are likely to line-up in the same 4-5-1 formation that saw them pick up a point against Norwich at the Britannia Stadium last weekend. Leicester go into the match with three players missing on international duty - a fact that has seen boss Michael Strang suggest the match be postponed - and striker Matty Fryatt is unlikely to have recovered from his neck injury in time to be considered.

Probable teams:

Leicester: Henderson; Stearman, N'Gotty, Insúa, Clarke; Pavey, Biscan, Johnson, Porter; Christie, De Vries

Stoke: Simonsen; Wright, Craddock, Hill, Matteo; Delap, Eustace, Diao, White, Phillips; Fuller

Leicester vs. Stoke, Walkers Stadium

Saturday 2nd September 2006

The Mecury had both teams wrong. In both cases it was the defence that differed from the newspaper's guess; I decided to field Maybury at right back with Stearman moving into the centre alongside N'Gotty whilst neither Wright nor Matteo made the starting side for Stoke and Hill was shoved out to left back. Both midfields and attacks had the expected look about them as once again I put my faith in Ashley Chambers and gave him a place on the bench.

I shook hands with Tony Pulis as we both made our way to our respective dugouts, the Stoke boss was already being hounded by a few in the media but his upbeat demeanor gave little away. Such is the ridiculously short time in which managers are given to turn things around, however, that there was already a sense of when rather than if he were going to lose his job.

His players - save for Steve Simonsen - didn't appear to have much of an appetite to help him out. Just as Sheffield Wednesday had passed their way at will through us the previous Saturday, we strolled through the Stoke defence seemingly at will. The one thing we couldn't do, however, was put the ball in the back of the net.

Steve Simonsen was not a goalkeeper I would have considered to be particularly wary of, as far as I could gather he was a journeyman pro who'd do a decent job, but something about the Walkers Stadium clearly inspired him to play like a world beater. In the first twenty minutes alone we directed six shots at the Stoke 'keeper, three of which required saves that would have made anyone proud.

Our best chance of the half came on thirty-two minutes. Levi Porter played a one-two with Christie and skipped past Jody Craddock. Clear in on Simonsen, he chipped a ball towards the far post. Simonsen reacted quickly and threw a hand up to make the block, but Christie had followed in and seemed to have the simplest of tap-ins. He side-footed in but Simonsen had recovered incredibly and pushed the effort round the post. Porter's corner was headed clear by Salif Diao and the visitors struggled through to half time with the score still level.

I was at a loss to explain it myself, I told the boys just to keep doing what they were doing and the goal would come. The one thing we could at least say was that Stoke were unlikely to provide any threat which would cause us to lose the game. In the first forty seconds after the kick-off I had my answer about their response to Simonsen's first-half stubbornness.

From the re-start we moved the ball back and played it amongst the defence. Alan Maybury launched a long ball over the top, supposedly aiming for De Vries' head in a manner reminiscent of Wimbledon in the '80s and '90s, but he found only Gabriel Zakuani in the centre of the Stoke defence. Fortunately, Zakuani completely mis-controlled the ball, presenting it straight to De Vries. The Dutchman was clean in on Simonsen, and this time the 'keeper could do nothing but watch as the ball slid past him into the net.

I couldn't hide my delight on the bench, I was on my feet - almost on the pitch - and had to have the fourth official ask me to step back as I tried to talk to Kenny Pavey, telling him to keep the team going. For the most part they did that, and indeed we crafted chances that should have seen us go further into the lead, but I was somehow more comforted that this time it was through our inadequate finishing that we failed to find the net.

The game was killed off - that's if there was any contest to kill - when John Eustace picked up his second yellow card with ten minutes remaining. He picked up his first after twenty minutes for a clumsy challenge on Igor Biscan, it was perhaps a debatable decision but one for which plenty of yellow cards have been shown before. His second came when he went through the back of Chambers, the young striker having only been on the field for five minutes. Referee Andy Hall had no hesitation in brandishing the cards and we were home safe.

Leicester 1 - 0 Stoke

(De Vries 46)

Man of the Match: Clive Clarke (8)

Hearts Youngster Set for Ibrox Switch

He couldn't believe it. The management had said nothing to him, yet here he was, getting the bus to training and reading a story about how he was set for a move to Rangers. A kid sitting across from him was reading the same story and had recognised Michael. Michael lowered his paper and shook his head at the kid, his meaning clear; he didn't have the first clue about any move away from Tynecastle.

He still wasn't a regular member in the Hearts squad. The speculation seemed to have arisen after three impressive performances in the September of 1988. He had come into the side for a win over Hamilton and stayed for a draw against Dundee. However it was in the defeat at Ibrox that he had impressed most. A result that many saw as unjust on the Edinburgh side, Michael had been one of the best performers on the field.

Of course, in the end there proved to be nothing to the rumours. It was normal newspaper nonsense, but the seed had been sewn in Michael's mind, and for the first time he firmly believed it was only a matter of time before he left Hearts for the bigger stage.

Another fourteen games came Michael's way by the end of the season. But his best moment, by far, came in the home derby against Hibernian. After suffering so much frustration the previous year, watching on as his teammates faced off against their city rivals. And whilst the '88/'89 season had been a disappointing one overall - Hearts could only muster a sixth place finish after coming so close to the league title the season before - one Saturday afternoon against Hibs made up for it all.

One-all into the last ten minutes, John Robertson took a snap shot inside the area. Robertson had returned to the club after his ill-fated spell at Newcastle, and was again spear-heading the Hearts attack. His shot was saved, but for once Michael was in the right place at the right time and seemingly had an age to tap into the empty net from eight yards. It was his fourth goal of the season, it was his most important goal for Hearts, and it would also prove to be his last.

Leicester vs. Plymouth, Walkers Stadium

Saturday 9th September 2006

It had been a quiet week after the Stoke win. Stephen Glass returned to training - though not in time to be considered - and Igor Biscan's need for a work permit was no more as he was granted British citizenship. Having signed for Liverpool in 2001 from Dinamo, the Croatian international was a big part of their 2005 Champions League success. He was performing well for us, and though his status change didn't make a big difference immediately, it could give us greater flexibility in the future.

Fülöp and Kisnorbo came back into the side after their international exploits; Kishishev was left in the stands as he had been for much of the season. Plymouth were sixteenth in the table coming into the match and the media had us firm favourites to claim all three points.

We started like we meant business, Matty Fryatt keen to make an impression on his return to the side was buzzing around and giving Seip and Tímár nightmares in the heart of the Plymouth defence. Our first decent chance fell to the returning striker, a loose ball twelve yards from goal giving him the opportunity to shoot, but his effort dribbled tamely past the post.

On the quarter hour I was off then bench, screaming at the officials when Paul Wotton when in two-footed with studs showing on Igor Biscan. The tackle was horrific, the kind that makes you shy away in case of any sickening aftermath. Thankfully Igor was OK to carry on, just some bruising to the shin, and ref Andy Hall - who had sent off John Eustace against Stoke - had no hesitation in brandishing a red card to Wotton.

With a numerical advantage, we were even more likely to come away with the win. Perhaps the players were thinking that was as well, because the passage they gave Plymouth through to half time was far too easy for my liking. We weren't closing them down in midfield, nor were we showing any particular urgency to score ourselves. There was just an assumption that the goal would eventually come, we simply had to be here for it to happen.

That continued into the second half despite my half-time pleas for a higher tempo and more enthusiasm. I had to make changes, Fryatt was tiring and Christie was sent on to replace him. Igor was suffering from the bruising and Djemba Djemba brought fresh legs into the midfield.

It seemed to work, for a short period at least, and just after the hour mad passed we grabbed the lead that I had been desperate to see. Djemba Djemba took the ball off Bojan Djordic just inside our own half and launched a pass down the left towards Levi Porter. The winger took the ball in his stride with a wonderful piece of control and crossed from deep. Mark de Vries stole across his marker and guided his header inside the post, leaving little chance for Romain Larrieu to keep it out.

I was back on my feet and urging the team forward, insistent that they not rest on their lead and that they push for a second. No matter what I said, however, and no matter how much Craig joined me in screaming from the sidelines, the boys sat further and further back, inviting Plymouth onto them. It almost goes without being said that it was a recipe for disaster.

Plymouth were finally finding a way back into the match - more being handed one on a plate if we're being honest. Balls were flying into the box, and though for the most part Bruno and Patrick did a wonderful job of clearing them back from whence they came, it took only one mistake to present the visitors with their chance.

With only four minutes left on the clock, Djordic lumped a long ball into the penalty area. N'Gotty, pedaling back towards goal, miscued his header, sending it straight to the feet of Barry Hayles. The veteran striker took one touch to steady himself and then rifled a shot into the top corner.

The visiting fans went crazy, ours fell silent save for a few audible shouts of complaint. We could do nothing to reclaim our lead, and in injury time Insúa was needed to replace Stearman who came off with a badly gashed arm. The good news was that Watford's defeat to Cardiff meant we kept our three point lead at the top, albeit over Crystal Palace, and with a trip to Burnley on Tuesday we'd have a chance to quickly get the disappointment out of our system.

Leicester 1 - 1 Plymouth

(De Vries 61)

(Wotton s/off 16, Hayles 86)

Man of the Match: Patrick Kisnorbo (8)

"What's the news on Richard?"

"Not bad. The cut isn't too deep. He's had a couple of stitches and I'd keep him out of Tuesday's match, but he should be fine for Q.P.R.." I hadn't expected anything else from the talk with my physio. I was surprised that the cut had forced Stearman off the pitch against Plymouth, with just a few minutes to go I thought a bit of a clean-up and some strapping would do, but evidently not.

I didn't spend much time around the club on Monday afternoon. I'd overseen the tactical session in the morning but left Craig Mulholland in charge of the afternoon's fitness work. John Robertson - the Hearts legend and my former teammate - had lost his job at Derry in Ireland and he was coming down to meet for a pint and a chat about the old times.

--

"I thought you'd done with football."

"It was that or the dole queue." I wasn't being entirely facetious. When the bar had gone under I was left with a (very) modest savings account and nothing other than football that I was qualified for or interested in.

Coaching an amateur team back in Edinburgh had been my only experience in the dugout, but as I stepped that up and applied to do my first coaching badges, the idea of returning to football appealed more and more. The last time I had seen John, of course - two days after playing my last game for Preston and calling time on my career - any thoughts of management had been the furthest thing from my mind.

We whiled away the evening talking of times past and the troubles Hearts found themselves in at current times. John had a better perspective of the Romanov debacle, having been the first manager sacked by the mad Russian. Despite his warnings and all common sense, however, it remained an ambition of mine to take charge of the dugout at Tynecastle.

"What do you want?" There was no place for pleasantries. Callum walked into the restaurant and when he stood face to face with his father for the first time in as long as he could remember, he immediately wished he had just hung up the phone.

"How's mum?"

"The same. She barely remembers me anymore."

"I would have thought that were for the best." Michael hung his head, his son's barbed comment digging deep.

"So what do you want? Trying to build bridges again?"

"Something like that."

"The twelve steps without the drag of actually being an alcoholic. Or have you added that to your list of problems?" Michael managed to bite his lip, he had been expecting this and knew he deserved it. Still, he wanted to ask where Callum had been for the past decade if he was truly so concerned for his mother.

"Do you want to order something?"

"Not really."

"Come on, Callum. I just want to talk."

"I'm not interested, Dad. I shouldn't have come here." He got to his feet, turned and left before he could change his mind. He looked back as he reached the door, a resigned acceptance on Michael's face, and he pushed his way out into the warmth of the sun.

Burnley vs. Leicester, Turf Moor

Tuesday 12th September 2006

"They've a lot of experience in their team, no doubt about that. Players like Unsworth and Robbie Blake have been round the block a few times and we'll have to be at our best to stop them." So I had said in my pre-match chat with reporters. Burnley had a side full of players who'd plied their trade in the Premiership before settling down a level, and though the media rated us as favourites I was wary of our opponents.

A two-all draw against Colchester on Saturday hadn't perhaps been the best way to show off their talents, indeed they'd needed a penalty from David Unsworth late on to earn them that point, but on their home patch they were a different prospect. With Joey Gudjonsson and Gavin Mahon in the centre of the park they'd be tough to break down, and I charged Kisnorbo with nothing but putting Blake in his pocket for ninety minutes.

From the first few minutes it was clear they had been sent out to stop us playing. Gudjonsson and Mahon became aggressors, putting pressure on Biscan and Johnson in an attempt to stop the supply out to our wingers. As soon as either of our full backs took possession as well, they had a Burnley winger in their face and the error count on our side was racking up at quite a rate.

Luckily, neither N'Gotty nor Kisnorbo seemed affected. The two continued to play their normal game, and any chance that either Blake or his strike partner, Besart Berisha, thought they had was soon snuffed out with a brave block or a well-timed tackle.

The effect was frustrating on the home fans; they could see that their team was lacking nothing in terms of effort but the lack of anything approaching a reward for it was keeping them quiet. Only when Brkovic got away from Clarke at the back post and met Jon Harley's cross did they have anything to cheer about, but the frame of the goal ensured that it wasn't a lead.

Having successfully tied us down in the first half, I expected Burnley to concentrate more on their own game in the second. I was convinced they would open up and if we kept to our game then chances would come as they pressed for a winner. In the end I was right, except with the bit about chances coming our way. In the best forty-five minutes of football I had seen played all season, Burnley blew us away with their efforts to finally find a lead.

It was the pace with which they attacked that was our undoing. Whilst Kenny Pavey and Levi Porter had some speed in their legs down the wings, elsewhere we could be something of a ponderous team at times; watching Seth Johnson could make you think of an oil tanker trying to turn and we just couldn't keep up.

They took nearly half an hour to finally force a goal, one thing they hadn't been so accurate with was their finishing when presented with the chances that they had craved in the first half. Robbie Blake had a hat-trick of chances before his goal – only one had been on target and even that had been a comfortable save for Martón Fülöp.

The goal game eighteen minutes from time. Berisha's shot from Harley's good set-up play had been deflected wide for a corner which Harley raced over to take. Alan Maybury thought quickly to cut off the short option, but Harley's delivery into the box was spot-on for Jay McEveley. The former Blackburn centre-back ducked in front of the slow-off-the-mark N'Gotty and guided his header towards goal. It didn't quite make it, cannoning off the cross-bar but Blake was on hand to side-foot home the rebound from five yards.

Once they had taken the lead it was clear that we would be taking nothing from the game. They weren't too bothered with chasing after a second and we couldn't muster up anything resembling a chance to grab an equaliser. It was a frustrating way to end our unbeaten run in the league, and indeed meant that we were now two games without a win. With a visit to bottom side Q.P.R. ahead of us on Saturday, however, we knew our run wouldn't last long.

Burnley 1 - 0 Leicester

(Blake 72)

Man of the Match: Jay McEveley (8)

from Sherm:

Excellent stuff this Terk, as always seems to be the case from you

Both off field and on field antics have got me hooked

KUTGW

Cheers, sherm Glad to hear you're enjoying it

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Strang Expects Victory

Leicester Mercury, 15th September 2006

Leicester City manager Michael Strang today rallied his troops ahead of tomorrow's clash with bottom of the table Q.P.R. by stating that he will be satisfied with nothing other than a victory from the trip to London.

"We've started the season well, and although we've only taken one point from the last two games, I'm fully expecting us to get back on track against Q.P.R." The Loftus Road club have had a dreadful start to their Championship campaign, claiming only a single point and scoring only two goals as sit at the foot of the table. It may have been the sort of game that Leicester fans would previously be wary of, but such is the enthusiasm as the Walkers Stadium this season that no one will disagree with Strang's optimism.

Q.P.R. vs Leicester, Loftus Road

Saturday 16th September 2006

I was hardly about to let on to the players, but my confidence in success at Loftus Road was even greater than I had let on to the players. We had already kept three clean sheets in the league and our defence had shut down some attacks far more talented than that on show in the blue and white hoops of our hosts.

The spirit in the camp had taken a little bit of a beating thanks to the defeat at Turf Moor, but training had gone well between the two games and I was sure the guys were in the right frame of mind to take the game to Q.P.R.. Indeed the only change from the side that lost in Burnley was Jimmy Nielsen replacing the injured Paul Henderson on the bench. Richard Stearman still didn't feel comfortable taking the field, so Alan Maybury kept his place at right back.

Of course, looking good on the training pitch and doing the same on a Saturday afternoon were two very different things, as was proven to me with less than twenty minutes gone. We had spoken at length about keeping a flat line across our back four; Dexter Blackstock's pace could be his undoing and I felt it we remained disciplined we could play him offside almost at will. Unfortunately Patrick Kisnorbo was slow coming up in the nineteenth minute and played Blackstock on. The young front man latched onto Rowlands' through ball and played the ball round Fülöp before slotting it home for the lead.

It was pretty quickly obvious that I had overestimated the players' confidence in themselves after suffering set backs in their last two results. Rather than focusing on their own game, they seemed too concerned with what Q.P.R. were doing, and Blackstock should have doubled their advantage when he turned away from N'Gotty into space but fired well over from eight yards with only Fülöp to beat.

We did manage to pull back level before the interval, but it was more through the sort of terrible defending that had seen Q.P.R. start the season so badly than anything positive we did. And more than that it was thoroughly against the run of play and undeserved.

With the ball at Leigertwood's feet in the right back position, there seemed little threat to the home side's goal. The Dutchman, however, failed to look before playing a pass across to Michael Mancienne and the on-loan centre back was caught asleep. Levi Porter stole the ball just before it reached the Chelsea man and raced into the penalty area. The rest of Q.P.R's defence had reacted just as slowly, and it was a simple job to roll the ball across the penalty area for Matty Fryatt, who side-footed home from six yards.

When we came out for the second half we looked to have sorted out our ills and, for the first ten minutes at least, played a tight game whilst creating two clear chances to take the lead. Unfortunately neither was taken, the ball pushed wide of either post when at very least the target should have been hit.

It was only a temporary reprieve from the pressure we invited, however, as we gifted Q.P.R. the chance to reclaim their lead. With just over twenty minutes remaining, my instructions to press hard whenever they had the ball were ignored. As Rowlands and Bolder played the ball between them, we simply sat off and watched. Hogan Ephraim found himself some space in the penalty area and Bolder found him with a pass into feet. Ephraim was given all the time he needed to control, turn and shoot, the ball arrowing to Fülöp's left and into the net.

I was about ready to give up and go home, cursing my players every step of the way but as I was telling Craig exactly what I thought of them, they surprised me in a nice way. A free kick on the left wing, some forty yards from goal was awarded when Bolder tripped Levi Porter. Fryatt delivered the ball into the box - to be honest I'd have rather he was waiting for its arrival than deliver it - but when Biscan rose at the near post and headed past Jake Cole I didn't mind in the slightest.

A point from a game which had severely tested my patience didn't seem like the worst of results, and to be honest I just wanted to get back home and start making plans for our Carling Cup match. It wasn't going to be that easy, however, and with four minutes left we found ourselves behind again.

This time I could blame somebody other than the team, though. When Rowlands delivered his cross from wide on the right, substitute striker Marc Nygaard was a clear yard offside. That seemed not to trouble the referee or his assistant and he was free to loop a header over Fülöp and into the net. I was furious, my defenders even more so, but the goal stood and the win was theirs.

Q.P.R. 3 - 2 Leicester

(Blackstock 19, Ephraim 69, Nygaard 86)

(Fryatt 34, Biscan 75)

Man of the Match: Adam Bolder (9)

Strang Furious At Nygaard Winner

Leicester Mercury, 17th September 2006

Leicester boss Michael Strang was furious last night after he watched his side fall to a late goal at Loftus Road. Speaking after the match, Strang was adamant that Marc Nygaard's eighty-sixth minute winner should have been disallowed.

"It was clear from where I was that the guy was offside. If I could see it, how could the linesman miss it when he's up with play? We worked hard to get back level and that decision has robbed us of a point."

Video of the incident showed clearly that Nygaard was offside when Martin Rowlands' cross was delivered into the penalty area, but it is the Leicester boss' inability to perhaps accept that these decisions even themselves out over time that has surprised some.

Too right I was furious. And I couldn't care less whether people thought I was being a bit ungracious. The decision was ridiculous and, much as we hadn't deserved it, we were in possession of a point when it struck. In the days after the match I complained to anyone who would listen and be damned the FA who sent a stern letter warning me about my future conduct.

To be honest I think it was a way of diverting my annoyance with the team, it gave me something to focus on other than the worrying lack of confidence we had shown. After the draw against Plymouth and the defeat at Burnley, we looked to no longer believe we belonged in the position we found ourselves. It was something we'd have to correct, and quickly, but with a trip to Newcastle awaiting us in mid-week, that might be an immediate problem.

from Queen of the Stevenage:

Excellent stuff, Terk! I'm loving the style and plot! KUTGW

Thanks for the words, Queen Obviously I'm trying something a little different to what I've done before in terms of the structure - and I'm finding it strange posting a slow-moving story, but good to hear people are enjoying

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"Son, you're starting on Saturday. I know you played for them but I want you to go and knock the ***** out of them. Show them who you ****ing are." The words of Graeme Souness were ringing in his ears as kick-off approached at Tynecastle. Stepping back onto the pitch he had been so proud to play on, but this time in the blue of Rangers - it was a feeling of treachery that he would never quite forget.

The game itself passed him largely by. Now twenty years old more and more was being expected of him, and a number of Rangers fans had welcomed his summer move from Hearts. He had impressed as a substitute in the first few games of the season but this, his first start, was a game in which he struggled to assert himself.

It mattered not to the result, despite him his teammates secured a 2-1 victory. There were no celebrations from his come full time, though. He applauded the Tynecastle crowd, a few sections returned the gesture though most ignored him. Still living in Edinburgh, he didn't travel back with the team to Ibrox but on Monday was back at training and in his usual high spirits.

His lack on influence on the game hadn't gone unnoticed by Souness, but evidently he had still done enough to keep his place in the side. Dunfermline visited Glasgow the week after and Michael had a much better time of it. The team were already marching towards their second title in as many years; rivals Celtic were mired in mid-table. But Michael was more concerned with endearing himself to the fans, and did just that with the final goal in the 3-0 success over Dunfermline. His well-placed shot found the inside of the side-netting and he celebrated as if he had won the World Cup.

--

It was that night, out in Glasgow with the teammates who were taking him on-board as one of their own, that he met Eve. Two years older than himself, he was instantly beguiled. He did little to hide the attention he paid to her, his intentions along with it were perfectly clear. He was delighted when she responded in kind, and by the end of the night any thoughts of those he had arrived at the bar with were far from his mind.

Over the next few weeks he spent more time with Eve than he did on the training pitch, as soon as they were no longer needed at the club for the day he dashed off to meet her. His schoolboy enthusiasm away from the club was being matched by improved form on it. With every minute he played for the first team he seemed to be getting better and better, and by Christmas, with twelve full games and a further seven substitute appearances under his belt, there were already some predicting a possible international future.

Newcastle vs. Leicester, St James' Park

Carling Cup 2nd Round, Wednesday 20th September 2006

"Jeff Shreeves has Leicester manager Michael Strang ready to speak to us." The rite of passage for all managers who had ambition at this level, answer Shreeves' inane questions without throttling the bastard.

"Obviously we think we can win. What'd be the point of turning up otherwise? We've had a good start to the season, which is more than can be said for Newcastle. Hopefully this will be a league game next season and then maybe you'll not be so down on our chances."

I had, to say the least, been irritated by the smug twat's assertion that "Surely you don't stand a chance tonight." and after five minutes of the game felt like flipping him the bird but settled instead for a merely satisfied smile in his direction. The reason I was taking such pleasure was Stephen Glass' beautiful free kick. Starting in place of Levi Porter after the Englishman came down with a cold, Glass took full advantage of Obafemi Martins' foul on Kenny Pavey and curled his shot round the outstretched hand of Shay Given.

The players had been sent out with instructions to return Newcastle's aggression in kind, and they had succeeded early on in rattling the Magpies. Big Sam Allardyce had set up in his usual 4-5-1 with Mickey Owen playing through the middle - Martins and Alan Smith either side of him on the wings. The need to keep our two banks of four in midfield and defence absolutely solid had been drilled into the players' heads and I was hopeful they could pull it off.

Big Sam's sides are never quitters though, and they came back at us with everything they had. The crowd - only just over thirty thousand strong - thought they had their equaliser on eighteen minutes when Martins got in behind Alan Maybury and fired across Fülöp into the net, only to be pulled back for an offside flag which went up immediately when Emre's pass was played through.

"****. Get Insúa warmed up. No way Clive's going to make it to half time." Our Irish left back had taken a hefty blow in a challenge with Alan Smith, he winced every time he put weight on his left ankle and it was obvious that he had to come off as soon as Emiliano Insúa was ready. Before that could happen, however, we had a great chance to make it two-nil; Biscan's pass found Matty Fryatt in space but the striker's shot rocketed back out off the inside of the post and Steven Taylor hacked it to safety.

We were still just about the better team as half time approached, Owen's supply up front had been all but cut off as Biscan and Johnson sat deep, breaking up every Newcastle attack that came their way and limiting them to as few hopefully punted long balls. We should have extended our lead - to my mind we did - with two minutes of the half remaining when Fryatt rose above Taylor to head home Pavey's cross, but he was penalised for a foul that after watching it twenty times on the television monitor I couldn't see.

To be honest there was a sense of impending doom as the second half began, to have chances against a Premiership side and not take them generally spells trouble, but maybe the referee was going to come to our rescue as he had Newcastle's. Just after the hour mark, with Newcastle firmly on top in the game and creating chances against our tiring side, Alan Smith tucked the ball away in almost a copy of Martins' first half effort. The difference was that the former Leeds and Man Utd star was clearly half a yard onside when the ball was played, but still the linesman's flag was raised to the home side's fury.

I had hoped that we would be boosted by our luck and manage to hold Newcastle out for the remaining twenty-eight minutes, but we barely managed three before Michael Owen finally put Newcastle on the scoreboard. Charles N'Zogbia had swapped passes with Owen and the Englishman finished well past Fülöp. I was soon cursing his name though, calling him a cheat with all my might when, despite a blatant lack of contact from N'Gotty, he went down in the penalty area, fooling Mark Clattenburn into awarding a penalty. Bofo Bautista, on for Martins, tucked the spot kick away as I fumed as quietly as possible.

Any drip of confidence in the side was drained away by the injustice and in the final fifteen minutes Newcastle could have had five or six more goals, such was the ease with which they picked their way through us. It turned out that they only got one, and typically it had to be Diving Owen who grabbed it, nipping ahead of N'Gotty to direct N'Zogbia's free kick into the far corner, sealing their spot in the third round.

"Honestly, I think we were hard done by. I've got to be careful what I say, I've been warned already by the F.A., but nobody's ever going to convince me it was a penalty. I think the least we deserved was extra time and a crack at them on penalties."

Newcastle 3 - 1 Leicester

(Owen 65, 82, Bautista pen 72)

(Glass 5)

Man of the Match: Michael Owen (8)