ScottleeSV Posted December 24, 2009 Author Share Posted December 24, 2009 24/06/09 - The hidden beauty Today I completed the final three pieces of the jigsaw which will either prove the makings of me as a football manager or send me back to working as a solicitor. My eighth, ninth, and tenth summer signings were all brought in for £575 per week or less (as per Erica’s restrictions), which made me wonder privately if all the other players might have come for less. I guess we’ll never know. First up it gives me great pleasure to record in the diary the acquisition of Hereford’s Clint Easton. The 31 year old is a seasoned football league veteran having made 301 appearances in all four of the top divisions. His former clubs include Gillingham, Wycombe, Norwich, and also the Watford side which once graced the Premiership. I hope the fans aren’t going to take issue with Easton’s one time association with the yellow enemy because I envisage him playing a crucial role on the left side of midfield this season. If Charlie Daniels proves unsatisfactory in that position, Easton will get his chance. I’ve also managed to bring in Matthew Gill, released by Colchester. Those of you with sharp memories will recall that Gill played 12 games at Kenilworth Road last season, averaging a very respectable 7.05 rating. The 28 year old wasn’t exactly a necessary signing but his being here means I now have a very strong quartet of central midfielders – Nicholls, Keane, Niven, and Gill. They’re all football league standard players and competition will be intense. Gill agreed to my offer of £575 per week and will probably start as 4th in the pecking order. However, it’s a 46 game season and we’ll also be competing in three cup competitons, so he’ll definitely play his part at some stage. If I get sacked at any point this season, 20 year old Stef Frost may go down as being my final ever signing as Luton Town manager. Frost isn’t a strong player; he was willing to come for just £90 per week. His role though will be to provide back-up to Paul McVeigh on the right wing. The only other team interested in Frost was Blue Square South side Maidenhead, so I didn’t exactly have to bring out the big guns to seal the deal. Previously he was on contract at Notts County but also has loan spells at non-league sides Gainsborough and Matlock on his curriculum vitae. After receiving the fax which sealed the deal for Easton, I headed downstairs for training in quite a good mood. My smile left my face though when I entered the home dressing rooms. I’d expected to see my squad all sat down getting their kit on, but instead they seemed to be crowded around something on the far wall. “Hey, what’s going on?” I shouted. “Why aren’t you getting changed?” “James!” said Richie Byrne. “Come check this out”. The players parted in the middle and I went to the front. It’s hard to describe what I was looking at. On the wall was a huge thick rectangular piece of paper. Tacked onto the paper were one hundred white squares. I knew the amount because all the squares had their own number, and from first glance I could only see one square with a three digit number (‘100’, obviously). The numbers didn’t run sequentially. For example, the top row began with the numers 46, 8, 24, 91, 4, and so on. “What the hell is this?” I asked. “It’s the 100 point challenge” said Richie. “Me and Dean Brill spent all yesterday putting it together”. “I don’t get it” I replied. “What is it?” “Basically, there’s two layers of paper bluetacked to the wall. The top layer, the layer you can see, are the numbers. Underneath the numbers is a huge poster of a naked blonde model I bought off the internet. What we’re going to do is take out a number for every point we get in the league this season. Once we get to 100 points, the full beauty of a certain Vanessa Guarna will be revealed in all her glory”. All the lads around me cheered. “Just so the best bits aren’t revealed too quickly” Richie continued. “I put numbers 94 and 95 over her nipples and 96-100 in the area over her crotch”. “I see” I said softly. “The 100 point challenge, eh? That’s....classic”. Without warning I grabbed at the numbers and started tearing the whole thing down with my bare hands. The players all gasped and retreated back, as various numbers and pieces of Vanessa Guarna started flying everywhere. I didn’t pause for breath until the whole thing, front layer and poster layer, was lying down in the ground in about a hundred scrunched up pieces. “Everybody sit down!” I scowled. Everybody obeyed my command without so much as a word. “What the f__k do you all think this league is, some kind of joke?! Let me tell you, it ain’t! I played for Morecambe for two seasons down here and it ain’t that much different from League Two. You lot seem to be on some sort of cloud cuckoo land thinking you’re going to walk the title. Believe me, you ain’t. You’re going to have to work hard just like anybody else. I’m sick and f__king tired of hearing how much of a Pi$$take this season is going to be. 100 point challenge? Who the f__k do you lot think you are? Yeah you’re good players but you haven’t won f__k all yet”. Silence around the room. My eyes strayed downwards onto some of the different coloured football boots I could see next to people’s feet. “Those f__king boots” I said under my breath. “Of all the jumped up, self-pompous, patronising, show-off things to do, buying those boots was it”. “We could get rid of them, boss” Kevin Nicholls said. “Oh you will, as soon as I say so. I’ll give you all a chance though. Most of you know that I’m a fair man. I tell you what, I’ll give you a chance to prove yourselves. You can start the season wearing those stupid boots. The moment I see one pathetic performance unworthy of such boots though, I’m going to have a word with Fred and see about holding us a little burning session out in the car park. Do I make myself clear?” Nods from various and sundry. “Good” I continued. “Brian should be here any minute. He can take the session today. I’m not though. I’m too f__ked off. When I come back here in two days time I want to see a new attitude. I swear to god, the next person I overhear talking about how many points we’re going to win the league by, or joking about how rubbish our opponents supposedly are, that person is going to find himself on the transfer list, and I don’t give a f__k who it is! Sort yourselves out!” I walked out of the room to complete silence. I hoped the message had got through. -------------------------------------------------------------- 04/08/05 - Arms and legs It’s tough when your football career is prematurely ended. Despite what the doctors told me though, I was never worried about the possibility I wouldn’t be able to walk or run again. Even during the tougher times, I just didn’t think God would be that cruel. Perhaps if I hadn’t been able to feel anything in the damaged leg I would have been more worried? As it was however I spent the first three month in constant pain, and during all the physio sessions which followed that pain gradually started to subside. I felt I was on the mend, even if the medical sages around me seemed to think I needed to be careful, and that full recovery was in no way guaranteed. “I thinking of making this my last session” I told Helen Bolland, my latest (and probably last) in a long line of consultants and physiotherapists. “You’re pencilled in for two more after this though, aren’t you?” she replied, slowly flexing my knee backwards and forwards. “I know but I feel fine. I’m walking everywhere. I even jogged to the newsagents the other day for milk”. “Well that was silly. You’re not supposed to be jogging yet. You even said yourself just now that your leg still feels weak”. “It does a little bit but it gets stronger every day. If I’m only coming here for bending and prodding I can do that at home”. My attitude might have been different if Helen was a hottie. Sadly though, Leeds General Hospital is no Grey’s Anatomy. In all the time I’d been coming here, and in all the various departments I’d been shunted back and forth from, I’d only seen one doctor even in the same league as Meredith Grey. In fact, the best looking women in the place were usually patients. I could see one such person now. She was about twenty yards away on the other side of the ward. A male physio was slowly bending her right arm this way and that, much to the anguish of the hottie. I guessed I was a lot further down the road to recovery than she was. “If there is one crumb of comfort” Helen said, drawing my mind back to the matter in hand. “I think we’re just about done for today. I do want to see you back for your final two appointments though! There’s no point missing them when you’re this close to the end”. “Yeah, no worries doc”. I sat up on the side of the bench and looked back over to the arm victim. The male physio also seemed to be wrapping things up for the day. Maybe it was lunchtime on the ward? “Right James, you know your way by now. Don’t forget to check in at the desk on the way out”. “Will do. Thanks Helen”. Off she went, and I stood up and put my coat on. I caught the eye of the hot girl and decided to go over for a quick word. She had her right arm all bandaged up and looked in more than a degree of discomfort. “You okay there?” I said, marching up to her on my two perfectly fine legs (as far as I was concerned anyway). “I’m getting by” she replied cheerfully. She was a strange mixture of the attractive and the bruised. She had a great body, just my height and curvy in a lot of nice places. On the flip side though, her pitch black haircut was short and very male-like. I also quickly made the assumption her arm wasn’t the only injury she’d ever suffered. Beneath her large blue sports bra I could see bruising just to the left of her naval. “How did you hurt your arm?” “Pot-holing”. “Really?” I enquired in surprise. “I’ve never met anyone who does that”. “Well you have now. How did you hurt your leg?” “Playing football”. “I’ve met lots of people who do that”. The girl, who I estimated to probably be about my age, or maybe just shy of it, stood up now and began to put her own coat on. She struggled with this because of her arm, but she did at least seem in relatively good spirits about it all. She seemed to be one of those people who brave pain by grinning. “I’d have offered to help you” I said. “But you don’t seem like the type to take it”. “Neither do you if what you were saying to your physio was anything to go by. That’s cool though, I like self-reliant people”. “I’m James” I said, offering out my right hand. The girl looked at my right arm, then at her bandaged right arm, and then with a smile she looked into my eyes. I smiled back and withdrew my hand. “I would if I could” she eventually replied. “My name’s Charlotte anyway”. “Pleased to meet you. So...Charlotte, can I buy you a cup of really overpriced hospital coffee maybe?” “Make it Starbucks in town and I’ll buy my own”. “Deal” I said, and together we walked out. Who needs hot doctors anyway? ---- Note - There will now be an update hiatus of approximately a week whilst I go off and enjoy Christmas Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
FlownCanary Posted December 25, 2009 Share Posted December 25, 2009 Thanks for the update dude! I probably would have acted the same way to my players.... Eventually. Merry Christmas dude! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
QweebStyle Posted December 26, 2009 Share Posted December 26, 2009 yeah chief have a good one and congrats on making the second page lol Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Simply Perfect Posted December 26, 2009 Share Posted December 26, 2009 Just caught up on this, quality stuff. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted December 29, 2009 Author Share Posted December 29, 2009 Simply Perfect, Qweeb, and Canary..thanks alot for your encouragement. Even in the aftermath of xmas though, updates could be more sporadic than they used to be (or maybe just shorter) due to my forthcoming exams at the end of January. I'm doing Contract Law and Family Law at night college at the moment --------------------------------------------------------------- 02/07/09 - Summer days drifting away As our pre-season train screeches its way towards friendly match station, I’ve taken a few days off from the diary over the past week and a half to enjoy the last throes of summer. It’s not the “hottest summer since records began”, as the advert claims, but it’s still mighty hot all the same. The last thing I feel like doing in the warm evenings right now is heading for the bedroom to boot up Microsoft Word. We are getting close though to actual matches once again. As such, it’s definitely time to regain my discipline. Nothing overly significant has happened since I last made an entry but I have enjoyed a couple of interesting social events. First to take place was an early evening barbecue at Brian’s house last Thursday. Myself, Brian, Alice (the wife), Sadie and Penny (the daughters), not to mention Lucy and Laicey (the dogs), all sat in the back garden on plastic white chairs supping bottled beers and feasting on various barbecue foods. We had burgers, sausages, pork chops, and also these weird kebab sticks with bits of vegetables on them. A good time was had by all and the humans among us even retreated to the dining room when night set in for a very competitive game of Monopoly. On the Saturday I went on a day trip to Alton Towers with the office crew, translated as Brenda, Caroline, Darren, and Nicky. I did invite Brian but he didn’t think his family would like it if he went to a fairground without them. In turn I didn’t think the office crew would like it if their day out was comprised by the presence of two young children. Thankfully however Brian didn’t even suggest it, just as I was also thankful that Nicky didn’t ask if she could bring Keith. Slightly off topic but it really annoys me when I think of Nicky and Keith together; I’m not convinced it’s for the best that one of my players should be dating someone who is my friend as well as my colleague. It could potentially lead to problems if Keith’s place in the team ever came under review. Anyway, I’d rather not talk about it. Because there were five of us going we had to use two cars. I drove Brenda and Darren and Caroline drove herself and Nicky. Being the summer (and being a Saturday), the place was absolutely jam packed when we got there. As such we had to be selective about the rides we chose to go on due to the endless queuing. It was interesting to note the type of rides each person wanted to go on. Caroline and Darren turned out to be the big thrill seekers among us, gravitating mostly towards the various big dippers and roller-coasters. Me and Nicky were the ‘inbetweeners’, the people who would go on some rides but not the type Caroline and Darren were going on. For instance, I can just about stomach things like the log flume and that huge yellow and red slide you go down in a sack. I draw the line at roller-coasters though, and how people can strap themselves into those ridiculous contraptions that dangle you upside down and then whizz you around at a million miles per hour is beyond me. Even Darren, ever the show-off even in the absence of his girlfriend, looked ready to spew after coming off that one. Caroline though has nerves of steel. All she did was grin when she came off every single ride. At the most conservative end of the scale was Brenda, who wouldn’t be persuaded onto any ride except the water rapids, and it took a fair bit of cajoling to get her on that one. In fact, the rapids was the only ride all five of us went on at once. I had to suppress a smile at the irony of me being back on a boat getting sprayed with water so soon after Canada. It was all good fun though. Caroline’s reward for being so brave on the other rides was to get the worst drenching of anybody on the rapids. Brenda thankfully landed one of the lucky seats and suffered only the attentions of mild drizzle. In the midst of all the sideshows, there has still been football to focus on even in the continued absence of matches. My dressing down of the players the other week seems to have garnered a positive reaction. There’s still an air of acute confidence amongst the players whenever talk of Woking comes up, but there haven’t been any more stunts along the lines of the multi-coloured boots and the 100 point challenge. Some of the players have even left their new boots in the changing rooms to gather dust for a while, choosing instead to train with traditional black ones. It’s hard to tell from the countless drills and training matches just how we’re shaping up in time for the new season. I suppose until the main action gets underway we’ll just never know. My gut feeling is that we’re stronger than we were this time last season when I first took to the helm. How much of that is down to me simply wanting to believe we’re stronger I don’t know. I’m busting to the gut though to get going. I’ve had my holiday, I’ve had my recruitment drive, I’ve had all my rest and relaxation, and now I’m ready for battle (as Jose Mourinho might put it). Soon it will be time to get out there and prove to the powers that I’m the man to lead this club long-term. Perhaps because deep down inside even I don’t know if I’m worthy for those reigns, the next six months will be curious. Very curious. ---------------------------------------------------------- Next - Cassie cool. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sam W Posted December 29, 2009 Share Posted December 29, 2009 Wow awesome story so far Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
FlownCanary Posted December 30, 2009 Share Posted December 30, 2009 Nice update dude, and don't worry yourself about "more sporadic" updates as you put it, I've got the patience to be able to wait. (As long as it eventually continues. ) Anyway, good update and good luck with your exams. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted December 30, 2009 Author Share Posted December 30, 2009 Thanks Sam, and thankyou Canary - rest assured that barring a laptop crash the story will continue ---------------------------------------------------------------- 04/07/09 - Nipped in the bud “I wouldn’t worry about the expectancy level” Brian told me, taking a sip of his ‘Ostrich’s sin’ guest ale. “Just concentrate on the football. All the outside stuff will take care of itself”. “It does wind me up though, Brian. Last season,when I wanted more positivity in the face of relegation, everyone preached doom and gloom. Now that I actually wouldn’t mind some doom and gloom, everybody’s ejaculating positivity all over the walls and ceiling. Can you see the double standards?” “I can but there’s nothing you can do about it”. Over on the small stage, Gav the barman was setting up his new karaoke machine. That aside it was a very quiet afternoon in the Hatters Arms. Myself and Brian made up 25% of the total customers in the pub. “Not to pour any more worry over your shoulders” Brian continued. “But I was kind of hoping to have a word with you about something else today”. “Shoot” I replied, happy to change the subject. “Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. I’ve also been talking to Alice a lot. What I’m thinking is I might look to try and get a manager’s job of my own at some point in the near future. What do you think?” What did I think? I thought it sucked. I couldn’t tell Brian that though. I calmly took a sip of my ‘pirate's insistence’ and then tried to make it out it was a great idea and long overdue. “I think it’s a great idea. I think you’d make a great manager, I’ve always thought so. I’m surprised you haven’t done it already to tell you the truth”. “Ah good!” he exclaimed in delight. “Like I said, I don’t want to add any more worry to your shoulders. It’s just – I don’t know – I’m forty one now and I’ve really got the urge to do it. Up until now I’ve been happy to coast along being the assistant at all the clubs I’ve been at. I was happy to do that partly because of the family I suppose. I’ve spent a lot of years building the family up with Alice and leading the quiet life on the career front. Now though I’m getting itchy feet. If I’m going to take a manager’s job I don’t think I can really leave it much longer”. Just then my mobile phone went off, and I saw straight away it was Cassie. There was no way I wasn’t going to answer this; I hadn’t heard from her since the night of the warehouse. “Brian, you don’t need to explain to me. I think you’d make a great manager. Excuse me though, I need to take this. I’ll be back in a minute”. “Okay”. I left my seat and walked across the room towards the exit. As I did so Gav kicked the karaoke machine with his foot and swore loudly. “F__king thing won’t switch on! I’ve got it plugged in and everything”. “Give it a kick” Brian shouted from the corner. “Already done that!” “Maybe it wants you to sing to it first” I added, one hand on the door. “Funny man”. It was drizzling slightly outside, making it awkward to talk on the phone without getting it wet. I hunched myself in the narrow doorway and tried to keep the handset covered by my coat sleeve. “Cassie?” “Hiya. How are you?” “I’m good. You?” “I’m good”. “Good”. If this was as good as it got the conversation was in deep trouble. Cassie though thankfully had ‘an angle’ if indeed that’s what it was. “Dragomir has asked me to ask you if you’d like to come around to the house for dinner one night”. “He’s asked me to dinner, at that mansion of yours?” “Yeah. What do you think?” “Well, I could do that I suppose. Does this mean he’s considering changing his mind about the one year thing?” “No, I don’t think so. He seems to think you might pass the test and win that league thing though. I think he might be thinking he should get to know you a bit just in case you do pass. He’s not one to break a promise. If you win what you need to win, he definitely won’t change his mind about letting you go out with me”. A sudden outburst of music made itself heard from inside the pub, and I quickly guessed the new karaoke machine was up and running. Sure enough, a few seconds later, the distinct sound of Gav could be heard singing (albeit poorly) - “Pleeeeeeeease release meee, lettttt me gooooo!” “Cassie, if it’s okay with you and your guardian, I’m going to pass on this whole one year thing”. “Oh” she replied after a brief pause. “I like you a lot, and I fancy you a lot, but this one year thing.... I’m not having a go at Dragomir when I say this, but it’s just not for me. I don’t think it’s the best thing I could be doing with my life right now. I would like to go out with someone but I don’t want to commit myself to spending a whole year with someone I’m not actually going to be hanging around with. Thirty years of age isn’t a good time in someone’s life to be doing something like that. Neither is eighteen if I’m honest”. “Yeah okay” she said, not entirely out of disappointment. “That’s cool”. “If there was a bigger history between us than one kiss in a Wycombe pub one afternoon then maybe I’d feel different. As it is though I think we should nip this whole thing in the bud right now and agree to be friends only. If one of us meets someone else over the course of the next year, or I fail in the football, we’ll know we made the right decision. On the other hand, if we’re both still single this time next year and I’ve also passed the football test, maybe I’ll give you a call and see what you’re doing”. “Yeah I understand that. I agree actually”. “I’m glad”. “Would you rather we didn’t meet before away matches too from now on? It might be best if we didn’t. Lots and lots of meetings could lead to extra feelings”. “That’s very true, and I’m very impressed with you for taking that into account. I don’t mind coming for the dinner. In fact, tell your guardian I would be honoured to accept his invitation. As for the away match meetings and everything else, let’s put all that on the backburner and go get on with our lives for a while”. “Okay. When I find out when the dinner is going to be, I’ll send you a text”. “Cool”. The chat didn’t last much longer after that. We said our goodbyes and then I headed back inside. I didn’t feel too bad about what had just been said. I didn’t have huge feelings for her and I’d already long resigned myself to the fact we weren’t going to be get together anyway. In fact if anything I was cheerful; things which had needed to be said had finally been said. Inside the pub Gav was still singing to his audience of about three. “Cossssssss iiiiiii don’t love youoooooo anymoreeee. Hey James, come and do a song!” “Are you kidding?” “No, come try it” Gav said, turning his song off and stepping down off the stage. “This machine’s got all the songs in the world on it”. “Go on then, chuck me the microphone”. “Excellent. What do you want to sing?” “Day Tripper?” "Yeah cool. It should have that one". ------------------------------------------------------------------- Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
jbarnsie Posted December 31, 2009 Share Posted December 31, 2009 superb thread thanks a lot Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted December 31, 2009 Author Share Posted December 31, 2009 Thanks Jbarnsie. Always nice to see a new name enjoying the tale --------------------------------------------------------------- 07/07/09 - A grand opening The midsummer heat was back with a vengeance today. As I walked into the town centre from my usual parking space out on the fringes, I almost felt embarrassed to be wearing a full suit and tie. I had to though. Today was the day I was to be special guest at a store opening in town. According to Glynn I was to arrive smartly dressed at my destination and then everything else would take care of itself. Caroline was accompanying me for at least most of the journey. She was on her way to a party at somebody’s flat, somebody who evidently lived in and around the town centre district. “It’s a bit early for a party isn’t it?” I asked. “It’s the middle of the afternoon”. “Well it’s not really what you’d call a conventional party”. The amount of all things gothic on Caroline seemed to have doubled today (she even had black lipstick on). I had a sneaky feeling she was heading to a party of like minds. “Let me guess – it’s a goth party of some sort?” “No, but you’re on the right track. I’m going to a vampire party”. “Jesus, I don’t even want to know what goes on at one of those”. “Nothing illegal or seedy before you ask!” “I’ll take your word for it”. We stopped at some traffic lights and I pressed the button. Whilst we were waiting I just had time to reflect on how bizarre a combination we must have looked to all the passing cars, me in my smart suit and Caroline in her black rock-chick gear. “Which store did you say you were going to?” she asked, changing the subject. “I didn’t, but it’s Waterstones. I must admit I didn’t like the idea of this store opening thing at first, but ever since I found out it’s going to be Waterstones I’ve warmed to it. Waterstones is a great chain. Books are wonderful creations. I wish I had more time to read in my life actually”. “Agreed, but I thought there was already a Waterstones in town?” She had a point. Now that I thought about it there was indeed already a Waterstones in Luton town centre. I hadn’t been inside myself but I could certainly remember standing outside it. It had been the time I’d bumped into Rory just before the police had nabbed me. “Glynn definitely said Waterstones though”. “Okay. Well anyway, this is my turning. Have a good one. Break a leg”. “Will do. Enjoy your party”. “Bye”. We parted ways and I instinctively decided to check my phone. There were three text messages from Glynn on the screen all telling me to get a move on. I resisted the temptation to text back and quickened my pace, deciding in my wisdom to head for the Waterstones I knew about and maybe ask a staff whereabouts the new one was opening up. As the store came into view though, I noticed a large gathering of about twenty people all huddled together about fifteen yards in front of the next shop over. It was a Jack Fultons store, and then it hit me; I wasn’t here to open to a Waterstones. Glynn had only asked me to go the Waterstones store because it was right next to the new Jack Fultons, and THAT was what Glynn wanted me to help open. For anybody who doesn’t know what Jack Fultons is, let me tell you that it’s basically a cheap little supermarket full of cut-price food (a bit like Netto’s). It’s not exactly the hippest place you can shop and I’m guessing that’s why Glynn didn’t want to tell me what the store was before I got there. Being a former Leeds resident who once frequented a Jack Fultons ‘every once in a while’, I’d previously been under the impression they only traded up north. Obviously I was either wrong or they’ve since moved their operations further down the country. As aforementioned there were about twenty people stood facing the store. Slap bang inbetween those two entities was a podium with a microphone attached to it, and standing in front of that was a grey suited man I didn’t recognise. In front of the podium but still high off the ground was a red ribbon tied between two stanchions about a yard high. Once I was within eavesdropping distance of what the podium man was saying to the crowd, I spotted Glynn coming towards me from just that very direction. “James! Finally! I’ve been texting you telling you to get a move on!” “Oh right. If you sent me the texts when I was walking I wouldn’t have felt the vibration”. “Well anyway, that’s Max Barber up there. He’s the new manager of Fultons and he’s been running out of things to talk about over the past five minutes. The crowd might have started getting impatient eventually”. “The crowd? All twenty of them?” On paper twenty people might sound like a reasonable audience for what this was, but set against the backdrop of hundreds more people rushing past in both directions without giving this strange scene a second glance, and it didn’t look that impressive at all. Rather than address my sarcastic question, Glynn turned his head and tried to catch the eye of Max up on the podium. Max soon returned the glance and Glynn nodded his head at him. Then Max turned back to the audience. “Okay then people, it’s finally the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Our special guest has arrived to cut the ribbon and open the store. All the way from Kenilworth Road, I give you, Luton Town manager James Martin!” “What am I going to say?” I quickly asked Glynn. “Just use your instincts” he replied, giving me a gentle push in the back. “Say what comes to mind and then cut the ribbon”. Not feeling at all comfortable with this I walked to the podium and began to scale the wooden steps. As I emerged at the top to shake Max’s hand, the people watching gave me a spluttering round of applause. It reminded me of some of the times we’ve come off the field at half time drawing 0-0 actually. You know the type of applause I mean – polite but devoid of any genuine enthusiasm. “So James” Max said after letting go of my hand. “How does it feel to be here opening our store today?” Before answering I glanced across the road at the Sainsburys store, and next to it, Virgin Megastore. Next to that was a Lloyds branch. Now why couldn’t I be opening one of those places? “It’s errr a great honour to be here....today...opening this...Jack Fultons. In fact this where I always come for my food”. “Well James” interrupted Max. “Perhaps then, without further delay, we shall move onto the cutting”. He passed me a pair of scissors and I awkwardly cut the ribbon. The crowd produced another spluttering show of affection. Stage left I could see Glynn out of the corner of my eye, grinning and clapping more than anybody. “Exxxxxxcellent!” Max said slowly, taking the scissors back from me. “So, how’s the football preparation shaping up? Any possibility of promotion this season?” “Absolutely” I replied. “In fact, now the players can get all their health foods from Jack Fultons, there should be no stopping us”. Now personally I thought that was funny. The crowd didn’t though; they just stood in silence, all except a big fat bloke near the back. “Pigs will fly before you get us back in the league!” It wasn’t until afterwards I realised the man was the same fat heckler I’d seen in The Haunted Cow pub a while ago. Back then he’d been heckling the cowboy guy singing country and western. Today it was my turn. The crowd though didn’t laugh at him either, and it was left to Max to step in and finally bring an end to my participation. “Well let’s keep our fingers crossed. Thanks for coming today anyway. Please give it up for James Martin, ladies and gentleman!” To now barely audible clapping I walked back down the steps and over to Glynn. Back on stage Max had begun instructing the crowd not to all rush through the doors too quickly once he’d moved the podium out of the way. “Not bad, James” Glynn said meanwhile. “Not bad?! That was garbage. Why did you get me down here for this? There must have been somebody else who could have done it. Hardly anybody on this street even recognises me”. “The fat guy recognised you. Besides, apparently The Cheeky Girls were busy”. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
FlownCanary Posted January 1, 2010 Share Posted January 1, 2010 Loving the guest ales and dodgy public appearances! KUTGW! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 1, 2010 Author Share Posted January 1, 2010 It took me until the age of 28 to develop a love of guest ales. I think it was 10 years of drinking the same bitter that did it ------------------------------------------------------------------- 08/07/09 - Long shot When I entered the office this morning only Nicky was in. She was sat at her desk with her head resting against the table looking worse for wear, no doubt due to a hangover (which she soon confirmed as being the case). It’s not often I venture into the tiny kitchen at the back of the communal offices because Brenda usually makes all my coffees. On this occasion however I figured it a prudent investment for the rest of the day to make Nicky a coffee in Brenda’s absence. Brenda wasn’t likely to make Nicky a drink anyway. For one thing it wasn’t her job. For another, Brenda strongly disapproved of generations younger than herself going out and getting slaughtered around town. “Here, have this” I said, popping the drink down next to Nicky’s head. She mumbled a thank you but kept her head buried in her arms. Brenda would be in soon to make me my own coffee. Darren and Caroline though were both taking holiday days towards the back end of this week and wouldn’t be in at all. It hadn’t taken me long to abandon my pledge to spend mornings in my private office and afternoons in here. After several days of walking half asleep into the communal offices first thing in the morning without even thinking about it, I had now resigned myself to the idea that my private office was only ever going to get used for private meetings. If you’re wondering why I didn’t make myself a coffee at the same time as making Nicky one, it’s because Brenda’s coffees are of a class far above my own. Whenever I arrive before she does it’s well worth holding out for the good stuff. As I waited for my computer to boot up my mind went back to the night before when I’d been spending a quiet evening with Bambi in front of the television. I don’t know how to explain this very well but about once a week I have a day where I feel really depressed. Sometimes it happens for a reason and other times it just happens for the sake of it. Last night was my one for this week, and this time it was one of those with a reason attached to it; during a phone conversation with my mum I’d bottled out of asking her if my dad is my real dad. She had been the one to call me and maybe that’s why I’d not raised the subject with her. Maybe what I needed to do was force myself to be the one to call her one night? Maybe then I would better be able to prep myself beforehand for how the conversation might play out once I’d dropped the bomb? In any event, on this occasion I’d been full of one word answers and my mum had made an excuse to hang up after five minutes. I hadn’t been a very good conversationalist at all. With my desktop all loaded up and ready to rock and ruin, Brenda chose this moment to make her appearance. “Hey” she said, making her way to her desk. “What’s up with Nicky?” “Headache, I think”. “Hangover more like, if I didn’t know better. Want a coffee?” “Yeah that would be good”. If I’ve never described my living room before it’s probably because I don’t know who will end up reading this first. If it’s somebody who doesn’t know me very well then I hope you don’t think I’m a show-off when I tell you my living room is at least most of the size of Monica and Rachel’s ridiculously overblown apartment in the Friends TV series. There’s a huge Persian rug covering a great deal of the floor and I often find myself either sitting or pacing up and down on it when I’m troubled. Last night I almost wore a hole in the thing once that call to my mum was over. I just couldn’t figure out what to do next. It’s not just as simple as calling my mum back in a better prepared state of mind. There’s also the issue of whether I should call her at all. The information I got from Cassie about the quarter of a million payoff was second hand at best, and it originated from the mouth of a very unreliable sleazebag probably as he was getting six shades of Hornet s__t kicked out of him. As such, it’s not 100% definite in my mind that my dad is not my dad - Far from it. A more sensible move at this stage might be to hunt Wheelie down and hear his tale for myself. The only trouble is I have no idea where he is. About twenty minutes after the call from my mum last night, I called Cassie. I asked her if there was any way she could find out for me where Dave Wheelie is now living, or even if she could just get hold of whatever phone number he's now using. She said she’d ask Dragomir so I hung up and let her get on with it. Not long after that though I got a call back with the news that Dragomir couldn’t help me; apparently Wheelie had been chased out of the county once he’d recovered from his beating and now nobody knew where he was. “There you go” said Brenda, putting my coffee down next the mouse mat. “Thanks”. “Busy day today?” “Same as usual really. What about you?” “Oh it won’t stop for me today with Caroline and Darren being off, and I’ve got the feeling I might be covering for Nicky too. Do you know I wasted twenty minutes yesterday on the phone to some recruitment agency wanting a reference for Caroline? She must have applied to join it before she got her job back. It must be a rubbish agency though to have taken this long to getting around to dealing with her. No wonder no-one can get jobs these days”. Bingo. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it last night. It was a million to one shot but f_ck it, there was no harm in giving it a go. On the assumption Dave Wheelie had by now got himself a new job, there was a chance his new employers might have contacted Luton FC for a reference. Long shot, but possible. “Brenda, can you arrange a meeting for me with Bob Wharton? Anytime he's free will do". "Will do". Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
tenthreeleader Posted January 2, 2010 Share Posted January 2, 2010 Been awhile since I checked in with you on this thread, but this continues to be a very nice read. The only observation I can give you is that some of your paragraphs are a shade too long when outside of dialogue, meaning I have to re-read some from time to time to make sure your meaning registers, but that borders on the pedantic. Very nicely done! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 2, 2010 Author Share Posted January 2, 2010 Thanks Tenthree. I shall have to keep an eye on the paragraph thing, make sure they don't get too out of hand. ----------------------------------------------------------- 11/07/09 - Blaufrankisch It took three days for Bob to clear his schedule for me. When I finally opened his door on the afternoon of the 11th, a lot flashed across my mind before I even said hello. For starters Dave’s old safe was still there by the left hand wall. It made me uneasy the thought of it being there but I didn’t want to say anything. To do so would be admitting I knew what was in it (a firearm). Would the gun cause a mini explosion or something if there was an office fire? I’m not sure. It might be worth my researching the possibility though just so I don’t inadvertantly end Bob’s life through negligence. On either side of the safe, pushed up against the wall, were two or three broken chairs. They hadn’t been in here the last time I’d met with Bob, and given his enormous size I can only presume he broke them with his weight. That’s why I’ve used the phrase ‘two or three’, because I wasn’t sure at a glance how many chairs one could make out of the debris. Two or three would be about right though. “James” Bob said rather obviously, once he’d put his phone back on the hook. “Bob, good to catch you at last”. I took a seat in front of his desk. Bob smiled and raised his finger like an umpire giving a batsman out. Then he reached down out of sight and came back up with a bottle of red wine. One further duck down later and we had two glasses to go with it. “Sorry I’ve been busy the last few days. Thought I might share a quick tipple with you to make up for it”. “That’s quite okay. The business I wanted to discuss with you is personal; it could wait just fine”. “Not so fast” Bob said gently, holding his hand up. “First things first. One thing you might not know about me yet is that I am an absolute wine fanatic. I’ve got a huge wine cellar at home with over two hundred different rare bottles from all over the globe”. “Really? That’s impressive”. Bob poured us both a generous glass. Then he raised his to his mouth and began sniffing it with his eyes shut. “Ah yes, the distinct sweety fruit smell of a Blaufrankisch. I’ve missed it”. “Is that German?” I asked, taking a sip myself. “Austrian. The funny thing is, the region this wine comes from usually produces white wines. This though is a delightfully medium bodied effort – very similar to some of the Tuscan flavours actually. Not bad for £15 a bottle. I ordered it online”. “That’s errr terrific” I replied. “Anyway, about that personal business I came to see you about”. “Ah yes, do go ahead”. Bob still had his eyes shut, and now he was sipping the wine like a small bird might sip water. Behind him and to his right I could see an empty Mcdonalds bag. Evidently Bob loved his food just as much as his wine, if that wasn’t already obvious. “I need to get in touch with your predecessor, Dave Wheelie. I wondered if he’d left an address behind or something. Hell, maybe his new workplace called up asking for a reference or something? Do you have anything?” “I’m afraid I don’t” Bob replied, opening his eyes again and putting his glass down. “Nothing? Nothing at all?” “Nope. If he's got a new job he certainly didn’t list Luton Town as one of his references. It was my understanding though he left the club under quite the black cloud. Surely it stands to reason he would leave this place off his C.V?” “Yeah, I thought that too. I knew it was a long shot. I just thought I’d ask anyway”. “Sorry I couldn’t help”. “Right. Well. Anyway, at the risk of being rude I think I’ll get going. Still got lots of tactical preparation to do before the first friendly”. I stood up to leave, my wine glass still half unfinished. Bob glanced at that and then at me. “Oh. Will you do me a favour and give the rest of this bottle to your lovely secretary?” “Brenda?” “Yeah” he confirmed, beginning to force the cork back into the bottle. “We had a lovely chat in the canteen the other day about my wine cellar. Brenda doesn’t know too much about wines but she’s expressed an interest in learning. She even says she’s thinking of starting her own wine cellar”. “Well” I said thoughtfully (and lazily). “I don’t think she has too many hobbies at the moment. In fact I can’t think of a single one. She might struggle to start a wine cellar though; her and her son live in a flat”. “Actually they both moved into a new house just a few weeks ago, at least according to her”. “Oh. Right”. I picked up the wine bottle and headed for the door. It was news to me that Brenda had a new house but I suppose she wouldn’t really be one to shout it from the rooftops. I could have sworn I’d heard her mention a while ago though that she couldn’t afford anything more than a flat. Maybe that estranged boyfriend of hers had finally emerged from the woodwork again and stuck his hand in his pocket? I would have to ask her, when I could be bothered. “Okay then” I said, hand on the doorknob. “I’ll see you soon”. “Yes indeed. If I hear from anybody representing Wheelie, I’ll let you know. Oh, and if I don’t see you before the Northwich game, very best of luck”. “Thanks Bob. Cheerio”. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 3, 2010 Author Share Posted January 3, 2010 13/07/09, Friendly Match 1 Northwich Victoria v Luton Town GK – Dean Brill DL – Richie Byrne DR – Claude Gnakpa DC – Tony James DC – George Pilkington DMC – Kevin Nicholls MC – Keith Keane AML – Charlie Daniels AMR – Paul McVeigh FC – Dean Bowditch FC – Danny Cadamateri Finally the waiting was over, albeit after what felt like a marathon coach ride up north for the game. Northwich finished a creditable 9th in the table last season and would provide suitable warm up opposition. Our players though were less than 80% fit according to our travelling physio Joe Dunbar, so I decided beforehand to play my best eleven in the first half and sub them all at half time. We’ve got six friendlies in total so plenty of time for everybody to get fit. The last thing I need are the sort of injury problems I was plagued with at the beginning of last season. About 200 fans travelled up from Bedfordshire and they were almost applauding a goal as early as the 6th minute; Daniels crossed from deep on the left and Bowditch headed the ball down for Keane. The midfield dynamo found himself too close to the byline once he’d controlled the ball so he played a reverse ball back to Bowditch. The former Ipswich striker hit a quick low shot but the keeper scrambled back to palm it away. The home side fought back but it took them 14 minutes to have an attack. When it came it was a good one. Welch struck a free kick from twenty yards out and the ball hit the right hand post. Close shave. That however would turn out to be Northwich’s first and final foray on our goal the entire half. Not only that but we scored the game’s opening goal less than a minute later. Brill hoofed the ball downfield and Cadamateri had the pace to surge clear of the defence. With the keeper advancing on him, Cadamateri headed it wide of him and tapped a simple finish into the net from a slight angle. 1-0! We took control of the game after that, passing the ball around with aplomb. The runs and passes didn’t always work in sync but that’s only to be expected with so many new faces. We certainly looked a lot better than Northwich though, even on their own patch. After 29 minutes Sol Davis picked up the ball in a central position and elected to dribble out to the left wing. From there he crossed the ball into the middle only to see it headed out to Gnakpa. The right back struck an ambitious long range shot but it went over the bar. More chances were on their way – better ones. In the 33rd minute Bowditch played a lovely one-two with Gnakpa, the return ball the pick of the two. It was perfectly weighted and gave Bowditch a free shot on goal with just the keeper to beat. Unfortunately the low shot hit the keeper’s legs and went wide. From the resulting corner Tony James managed to control the ball on the penalty spot (God knows why the defence let him do this!), only then to pass it one yard to his right to Bowditch instead of shooting. Bowditch then smacked it and hit the crossbar, the ball ballooning up in the air and away. In the final minute of the half yet another move began with Gnakpa, last season’s “Supporter’s Player of the Season”. He passed it forwards and infield to Nicholls, who spotted Daniels in space to the left of the defence. The pass was incisive but slightly underhit, and Daniels had to wait a bit longer than he would have liked for it to go through to his left foot. Never the less, it did eventually get there but the shot went across the goal and wide. ----- Half time. Martin Mood'o'meter - Content ----- As intended I made several changes at half time. Off came Cadamateri for Bridges, Nicholls for Niven, Keane for Gill, Mcveigh for Frost, and Daniels for Easton. Everybody else got slightly longer on the pitch. Not a complete reshuffle just yet then but still enough to potentially affect our dominance. I was pleased to see us still on top and searching for the second goal once the whistle blew. Derek Niven, perhaps already sensing he won’t be first choice this season, tried to make his mark as early as the 48th minute. He collected the ball twenty yards out but pulled his right footed shot a yard wide. Then it was the turn of Bridges to get his foot on the ball. Bridges had several efforts in the second half, mostly from long range. He didn’t trouble the scorers but he did impress me with his power and strength. Every time he went into a 50/50 with a Northwich defender, Bridges emerged with the ball every single time. His best effort came in the 51st minute when his low shot from twenty yards forced the home keeper into a diving low save to his left. Despite the fact we were only one goal ahead, we had largely dominated this game with a basic 4.4.2 and I was extremely satisfied. Thus, in the 62nd minute I decided to make the rest of my substitutes and experiment with a difference formation. I changed to 4.5.1, taking off Bowditch for Owusu (who slotted back into midfield), Pilkington for Beavon, James for McCracken, and Davis for Byrne. The only players I left on the pitch to play the full ninety minutes were goalkeeper Dean Brill and the ultra fit Claude Gnakpa. Sod’s law, Northwich went and scored with their second attack of the game. The goal came in the 68th minute and was extremely simple in its inception. Benjamin got the ball down the left wing, crossed it in, and Burns was there to tap home past a bemused Brill. I won’t be amused if that happens in the league games. Things could have gone sour for us after that. However, to our credit we eventually adapted to the 4.5.1 and became not so much the ‘dominant’ side but certainly the one most likely to score the winner. Bridges flashed a long ranger just wide in the 76th minute. In injury time, a cross from deep on the left eluded everybody in the area and eventually arrived at the feet of Matthew Gill at the back stick. It was a great chance to steal the game but the shot, although on target, was helpful to the keeper and he managed to deflect it away. FINAL SCORE (Att – 434) Northwich Victoria 1 (Burns 68) Luton Town 1 (Cadamateri 14) ---------------------------------------------------------- Next - A sad departure Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Braver Posted January 3, 2010 Share Posted January 3, 2010 great story - keep up the good work Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
FlownCanary Posted January 3, 2010 Share Posted January 3, 2010 Who's the departure? Maybe Bob's ate himself to death! (Ouch!) Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
dechardonay Posted January 4, 2010 Share Posted January 4, 2010 On paragraph length, I'm finding that an intriguing way to approach things - it's a bit like a stream-of-thought read you offer there. I say decide what you like best and run with it. Sorry to disagree, tenthreeleader, but I like it. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 4, 2010 Author Share Posted January 4, 2010 Hi Braver. Thanks for saying that mate, it's always encouraging to see a new face. Canary, as Roy Walker might say, it's good but it's not right. The correct answer in fact is considerably tamer. Thanks Dechardonay. I guess as long as paragraphs aren't too small or too huge, most things inbetween tend to be okay for most people. I'm going to keep half an eye on the situation though. ----------------------------------------------------------------- 15/07/09 - Itchy transfer finger Once I’d let the Northwich game settle in my head for a couple of days I came to the conclusion I should be encouraged rather than just contented with what I’d seen. We’d mostly bossed the game, despite the scoreline, winning 14-3 in the shot column. If we dominate like that in every game then we’re going to win most of them. I also have to take into account the Vics only scored after I’d switched to 4.5.1. If I hadn’t have done that we might well have run out the game 1-0 winners. I haven’t checked the online forums to see the fan reaction (although Darren claims hardly anyone saw the game to even have an opinion), but the local rags generally gave us the thumbs up. Bill Tulip of The Bedfordshire Bulletin was particularly praiseworthy. In his opinion there was only one team in the game and he reckons we would have won at a canter had the fixture actually meant anything. He also noted that our new signings seemed more impressive than most of the old guard. On our goalscorer, Bill wrote – “Cadamateri is still the untameable whippet, but against this class of defence he looks more like Sonic the Hedgehog. I almost thought the defenders would explode into dust every time he bulldozed his way through them as if they weren’t there. In this league the ex Everton striker will more or less be able to choose how many goals he ends up with. The trick for Martin will be persuading him to pick a high number”. Andy Branston meanwhile over at The Hertfordshire Herald, whilst not exactly ‘critical’ of our showing, was certainly unenthusiastic. Most notably, he couldn’t understand in his piece why I felt the need to throw away the win by experimenting with 4.5.1, when in his opinion the first half was proof we should be able to whip the whole league playing 4.4.2 no matter what the circumstances. He then cooed over the talents of Michal Bridges for a couple of paragraphs before finishing with the claim our performance was acceptable for who we were playing against but probably wouldn’t cut it against the Blue Square heavyweights. In addition to all the post-match analysis over the last forty eight hours, there has also been some action on the transfer front. I can now therefore happily reveal I’ve made my eleventh signing of the summer - 19 year old right winger Will Buckley on a free transfer from Rochdale. This is actually a better signing than it comes across on paper. Buckley was apparently about to make his big breakthrough at Spotland this season but was unhappy in the area. His girlfriend is due to move to a university campus in London come September, and Buckley wanted to get a club down south so he could be nearer to her. That was where we came in. Ideally he wanted a league one or league two club, but if you’re going to picky about the area then you can’t complain if you don’t get exactly what you asked for. Never the less, Buckley is a talented player and will immediately oust McVeigh from his right wing berth until further notice. Poor Stef Frost meanwhile, who has only recently signed for us himself, will drop into the reserves as third choice and may end up being permanently frozen out. Sorry Stef but that's showbusiness. Our other signing for the week is a loan acquisition, and comes in the form of 20 year old striker Scott Spencer from Everton. This is insurance for Michael Bridges, who pulled up late in the game against Northwich and will now miss the rest of pre-season. Spencer obviously isn’t as good as Bridges but he will make a good fourth choice player in that position. Quite frankly I don’t have a lot of confidence in Quinn and Sheridan and would rather not play them. Fifth and Sixth is about where they belong. We’ve also managed to send a couple of players in the opposite direction. I’m particularly saddened to see left back Sol Davis go. The paperwork still has to be completed but I’m not anticipating a problem with it, so sometime in the next week I fully expect to see Davis leave for Barnet. He's spent many years at Kenilworth Road and will be sorely missed both as a player and as a personality in the dressing room. His departure though, no matter how sad, will save us £1300 p/w on the wage budget. We’ve also got three other natural left backs at the club now in Beavon, Byrne, and Daniels. I wish Davis the best of luck on his return to League Two. Also gone (as in ‘signed-sealed-delivered’ this time), is centre back Ian Roper. The 32 year old is another highly respected player at the club but would be fourth on the centre back pecking order this season. I’ve decided it will be best for all parties concerned if we sanction his free transfer to Notts County. I think it says a lot for the quality of our squad that some of our rejects are joining clubs in higher leagues. A big factor in my decision over Roper has been the emergence of 18 year old Harry Hogarth in our reserve team. Hogarth didn’t feature last season but has been coming on leaps and bounds in training matches recently. Because of this, and also because we’ve dropped down a division, I’m confident Hogarth is now ready for first team action. He’ll start as fourth choice but that isn’t as bad as it sounds given Luton's penchant for attracting injuries. I’m also planning on giving Howarth games in the Conference League Cup, which apparently the board couldn’t give a hoot about. On we go then to Rockingham Road, Kettering, for the next friendly tomorrow. This is a quick turnaround because we only played Northwich two days ago. It’s a tight schedule though and it’s all hopefully going to result in a fully fit and confident squad going into our first league game in five games time. I’m going all out for the win tomorrow – no experimentation, no gimmicks, no nothing. ----------------------------------------------------------- Next - Kettering v Luton (Friendly number 2 of 6) Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Braver Posted January 4, 2010 Share Posted January 4, 2010 kettering! dont hit the town after the game, definatly be mugged! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
WelshWolf Posted January 4, 2010 Share Posted January 4, 2010 This is still going nice and strong, and I am enjoying it as ever. Keep up the work, it is truly capitvating Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 5, 2010 Author Share Posted January 5, 2010 I'll keep that in mind, Braver lol. Thanks Welshwolf. Glad you're still following ------------------------------------------------------------- 16/07/09, Friendly Match 2 Kettering Town v Luton Town GK – Dean Brill DL – Sol Davis DR – Claude Gnakpa DC – George Pilkington DC – Tony James DMC – Kevin Nicholls MC – Keith Keane AML – Clint Easton AMR – Paul McVeigh FC – Ben Bowditch FC – Danny Cadamateri It’s purely a matter of opinion as to whether Kettering are a better side than Northwich. Before this match my instincts would have told me Kettering. Last season’s table though shows the Vics in 9th and the Poppies in 14th. Having said that, last season was also Kettering’s first season back in the Blue Square Premier after a protracted stint in the division below, so the campaign was probably more about consolidation than anything else. The words I hear on the street prior to this season is that Kettering are ready to break the top ten. They’ve even enlisted the help of veteran league players Nicky Eadan and Barry Hayles to help them do it. I made one change from the team which played in Cheshire. I relegated Daniels to the bench and brought in Easton. Considering the fact I planned to swop them around at half time though, it didn’t really make that much difference. I simply fancied seeing what Easton would be like alongside the other first teamers. Will Buckley didn’t arrive in time for the trip so there was one more chance for Stef Frost to come off the bench and show what he can do. There was also a minor subplot at left back, where Sol Davis would be making his swansong appearance before moving to Barnet. We didn’t impress in the early stages. Kettering came out of the traps in a 3.5.2 formation and it stifled us completely. As Brian pointed out after five minutes, we didn’t have enough bodies in midfield to take control of things. I gave the boys a bit of time to sort themselves out on their own but it just didn’t happen. After 9 minutes the impressive Dempster teed up Gwillim from twenty five yards but his rasping shot flew narrowly over Brill’s crossbar. In the 11th minute the situation was practically repeated verbatim, only this time it was Hayles firing over from range. If there was one crumb of comfort it was that Kettering only seemed to be able to shoot from considerable distance. Our defence was calm and unflustered; the problems only manifested themselves when we got the ball in midfield. Over the next ten minutes I waved my arms around and shouted in the direction of assorted full backs and strikers, instructing whoever would listen to help out more whenever the home side overloaded the midfield. Our first chance came in the 18th minute, Nicholls heading a goal-kick back in the direction it came. Cadamateri latched onto it and rifled in a firm shot which the embarrassed home keeper had to tip wide. From the resulting corner Nicholls played a one-two with Easton and then crossed the ball in. The cross was a poor one but still hit the post before going behind because the keeper slightly mis-judged the flight. Slowly but surely we were coming into the game. Kettering though were set up extremely defensively. Our passing and moving invariably ran into false dawns every time we tried to get the ball down and play it. The only time we seemed to threaten was when we caught Kettering out with a long ball. It was precisely this type of attack which almost gave us the lead in the 38th minute. Brill launched one downfield and Cadamateri used his pace to get clear of the defence. He hammered a shot past the goalkeeper but the ball smacked against the crossbar and bounced clear. At this stage I was starting to think a goal might be imminent, but on the stroke of half time Kettering’s gameplan almost worked to perfection. Having kept the game mostly quite tight for forty five minutes they forged a great opportunity for themselves on the break. Eaden played it through to Westcarr and he had the pace to streak clear of the defence. He thrashed the ball as hard as he could but luckily for us Brill parried it away. That was the last action of the first half. --------- Half time – Kettering 0 Luton 0 Martin mood’o’meter – Concerned at how even the half was. --------- At half time I took off Easton, McVeigh, and Davis, all of whom had been largely anonymous in the first half (Davis is excused because he’s a defender). In their places I brought on Daniels, Byrne, and Frost. I was calm in the dressing room but I did explain that I wanted to see more than what we were giving. Today probably won’t be the last time this season we come up against a team who have probably said to themselves before kick-off “heckfire, it’s Luton! We'd better shut up shop and play for a bore draw”. We have to learn how to penetrate defences whenever a manager parks the team bus, to use an old Mourinho-ism. From the restart we were much better, and for a long time we pretty much kept Kettering parked inside their own half. After 48 minutes a Brill long ball fell into Cadamateri’s path down the near the corner flag. The striker crossed it in towards the head of Bowditch but he was being marked by a defender, and the ball bounced awkwardly between both their heads and looped up in the air. Keith Keane reacted quickest and raced in to meet it when it fell. He couldn’t get much power behind his header though and the keeper made a comfortable save. In the 50th minute the ball was bouncing around from head to head in the Kettering half when Stef Frost nodded it beautifully into the path of Keane, who had timed his run to perfection to go through on goal from a slight angle. It was a good chance but Keane got too much under it when shooting, and it went over. After 59 minutes I made another batch of substitutions; I brought on McCracken for James, Howarth for Gnakpa (with Pilkington moving to right back), Spencer for Bowditch, Quinn for Cadamateri, Niven for Nicholls, and Keane for Gill. After 66 minutes, and with Kettering still on the back foot, Pilkington swung a deep cross in from the right. Quinn got his right leg to it before his marker could but at the expense of power, and the shot went tamely down the keeper’s throat just in front of his goal-line. We probed and probed some more after that but ricochets didn’t go our way and crosses didn’t quite fall for us. We also had lots of posession without managing to find that killer ball. In the 78th minute Niven injured himself and went off to be replaced by Owusu. It was around about this point I sensed it wasn’t going to be our day. The home side actually ventured forwards again in the 81st minute, winning a free kick just outside the box. Substitute Rigby took it but the shot deflected wide for a corner which subsequently came to nothing. Our final chance came three minutes from time when some good play from Daniels and Byrne down the left resulted in a low cross going all the way to Frost at the back post. It was a good chance for the young lad to score, but as with some of our other shots today, Frost’s effort was weak and straight at the keeper from about seven yards out. After four minutes of injury time the referee blew his whistle to end the game. We won 9-4 on shots but not in the column that counts. FINAL SCORE (Att - 526) Kettering Town 0 Luton Town 0 ------------------------------------------------------------------ Next - a lord's prayer Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 6, 2010 Author Share Posted January 6, 2010 17/07/09 - It's just like being in church It doesn’t take much to make my nerves stand on end when it comes to the future security of my Luton job. Although the press and supporters have been reasonably satisfied with what they’ve seen in pre-season so far, secretly I’ve been feeling a little bit underwhelmed. Actually I was kind of okay after Northwich. It’s since the Kettering game yesterday I’ve felt on edge. Call it pessimism if you want but I’ve got a horrible inkling we’re going to come up against spoiling strategies like that all season. If this was the league campaign we’d have just two points from two games right now and probably be four points off the top already. Today I did something I haven’t done in about ten years, and I only did it back then to please my bible bashing girlfriend of the times. To put it bluntly, I went to church. More specifically, I went to the St Marys Church at the bottom of the Arndale Centre in town. I even walked past that ruddy Jack Fultons en route. “Why go to church?” I hear you ask. Well, I’ll tell you – I went for the very simple reason of saying a little prayer that we win promotion this season. Inititally I was going to ask God for the league title, but I thought he might think that greedy so I told him I’d settle for promotion instead. I like to think the powers that be (and I’m talking board room members now) would settle for a playoff win if I offered it to them. It was Fred who told me about St Marys Church. Apparently him and his wife go down every Sunday mornings for the weekly service. Margaret Oakenbridge also goes. In fact it was because of this latter nugget of info I decided to make my visit on a midweek. The last thing I wanted during my prayer was Margaret Oakenbridge’s beady little glare resting on me. If I never see that woman again it will be too soon. With it being the middle of the day when most people are at work, I assumed I would be able to just walk in, do my thing, and then leave without any fuss. I forgot to take into account though hardly anybody goes to church anymore. When I walked in the vicar was stood in the aisle that separates the pews, and he almost did a double take when he saw me coming towards him. “Oh!” he said, dropping some leaflets. “Hello there. You startled me. We err don’t get that many visitors on a err...well, on most days actually”. “That’s okay. No worries”. “I’m Father Simpkin”. “I’m James”. We shook hands, and it was in this moment I noted from glancing around there was nobody else in here except us two. I was also able to take in the splendour of the architecture. I’ve never been a religious man at all, but despite that I will never understand anybody who could fail to be impressed by the inside of a church. They are marvellous pieces of architecture no matter where you go. Simpkin was a thin man around about the age of fifty five, at a guess. He had short hair, round glasses, and of course, a black vicar’s uniform with the little white rectangle thing at the top. On first impression he seemed pleasant and cheery. No great shock there then (he is a vicar after all). I was just about to tell him my reason for being here when I heard footsteps coming from behind us. A quick realignment of my feet revealed the oncoming presence of what at first appeared to be a second vicar, albeit a much younger one. He certainly had the uniform down cold. “Ah, Adam” said Simpkin. “James, this is Adam Sanasy”. “Pleased to meet you” I said to the newcomer. “And yourself” Adam replied, bowing his head slightly. I’d say this one was about twenty five. He was stocky and had a really full head of black hair, the type which seems to curl medieval style just above the shoulders but without actually touching them. That kind of style looks messy to me but I’ve seen very good looking women really like it. It’s practically a caveman type haircut though. The cynic in me says people often have that style just because they can’t be bothered to get a haircut. Anyway, God doesn’t care either way I guess. “I suppose Adam could almost be called my understudy” Simpkin continued, bending down to pick up the leaflets he’d dropped earlier. “When I eventually retire, I’m hoping he might take my place. I’m sure he won’t mind me saying this but he’s an ex-convict. He was sent to me a year ago as part of a government scheme which allows certain young prisoners to swap hard time for community service. Adam discovered his love of Jesus whilst he was here and I suppose the rest is history. Once he was free to stop coming here he decided to stay on with us of his own free will”. “The path of crime is no match for the path of God” Adam chipped in with, flashing me a grin. “Indeed it isn’t!” said Simpkin, as if impressed by Adam's wordplay. “And what is your path, James? What is it that brings you through our doors today?” “I just came to say a private prayer. In fact, and I don’t mean any offence at all by this, but I’m in a bit of rush, so if you fine gentleman would let me move forward to the alter....”. “Oh of course, of course” replied the vicar, stepping aside. “I’m in something of a rush myself actually. I’m going out shopping for vegetables. Adam, I’m sure I can trust you to mind the fort until I get back?” “Certainly, father”. “That's my boy!” I nodded at the pair of them and then strode forward towards the front. As I walked I could hear Simpkin behind me plotting a course in the opposite direction. The other pair of feet was also on the move, to where I did not know. Once I reached the front I sat down on the nearest pew and clasped my hands together. Then I arched my neck downwards and began to whisper my prayer. I hadn’t pre-planned what I was going to say. I figured it best to just let my heart (via my mouth) make it up as it went along. “Lord, if you’re hearing this, please please let me win promotion with Luton Town Football Club this season. If I don’t get them up then I’ll get sacked, and I might....struggle to feed my dog. Also, I’m having trouble with my family. I’m not sure if my Dad is my real Dad. Please give me a sign or a clue as to whether or not he is my Dad. Oh, and before you suggest it, asking my parents about this is out of the question. Actually, help me find Dave Wheelie if you can. That’s my best bet. Make a big pointy finger for me out in the street or something like in that old National Lottery advert, and show me which direction he lives in these days. Apart from that I don’t know what else to ask for today. The Luton FC thing is the main thing though, that and the thing with my Dad. Oh, and I know you’re keeping an eye on Charlotte for me up there, so please say hi from me. Cheerio for now. I’ll be back sometime. It’ll probably be months rather than weeks though because I’m not that religious. You know that though”. That would do. I left it for today and began to head back up the now deserted aisle. Father Simpkin of course had gone shopping for vegetables, and God only knew where the lad Adam had got to. Before I could get to the door I realised I was in need of a pee. Toilets in churches aren’t signposted like they are in pubs but I still had a reasonably easy time locating the ones in this empty place. They were over to the side of a little canteen window at the back where I presumed the regulars around here went for their tea and coffee after a sermon. I could hear sniffling coming from inside the Men’s toilets. That had to be Adam. Actually, it sounded more like sniffing. (‘I’m sure he won’t mind me saying this but he’s an ex-convict. He was sent to me a year ago as part of a government scheme which allows certain young prisoners to swap hard time for community service’) Carefully I hugged the corner angle of the wall and poked my head silently around the corner. Adam was bent over one of the sinks, and there was no doubt as to what he was doing; he was snorting coke up his nose. ‘give me f__king strength’ I said to myself. I didn’t want a confrontation so I slipped back out silently and decided to hold my bladder until I got back to the office. Quite frankly I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at what I’d just seen (the answer though would be both, probably). “Lord” I said out loud, once I was back in the sunshine. “I know it might be asking a lot after everything I’ve just asked for inside, but please also get Father Simpkin a new apprentice”. A old woman carrying two shopping bags was now coming into view so I decided it might be best to stop talking to myself. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
FlownCanary Posted January 6, 2010 Share Posted January 6, 2010 I loved that last chapter dude, I go to church regular myself, it sounds like you were thinking of a catholic church there, whereas I go to a pentecostal church, (which is radically different and not at all architecturally pleasing.) But I can't believe you swore in a church! That did make me laugh! I hope God answers your prayers, about Luton and about Father Simpkin's apprentice. (Maybe you should tell him?) Keep up the good work and I look forward to the next friendly. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Welwyn Posted January 6, 2010 Share Posted January 6, 2010 St. Mary's is a Catholic Church though, so I presume he was. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 7, 2010 Author Share Posted January 7, 2010 Thanks Canary. I'm glad I didn't offend any religious beliefs ------------------------------------------------------------------ 19/07/09, Friendly Match 3 Luton Town v Birmingham City GK – Dean Brill DL – Richie Byrne DR – Claude Gnakpa DC – George Pilkington DC – Tony James DMC – Kevin Nicholls MC – Keith Keane MR – Will Buckley ML – Charlie Daniels FC – Dean Bowditch FC – Danny Cadamateri Over the years I’ve never quite been able to keep track of which division Birmingham are in. Today wasn’t any different. As manager Dave Jones and his boys hopped off the coach an hour or so before kick-off, I said to my counterpart - “Welcome, Dave. It’s great to see Premier Division opposition down here”. Dave then replied – “We’re in the Championship”. Apparently the Blues were relegated (not for the first time) down to England’s second tier at the end of the 2007/08 season. Last year, as they tried to go straight back up, they only finished a disappointing 10th. No doubt the board and fans will expect better of Jones and his mob this time around. I made three changes from the team which drew at Kettering. In came Daniels for Easton, Buckley (making his debut) for McVeigh, and Byrne for Davis. We lined up with 4.4.2 and as best as I could tell so did our opponents. The Midland side though began calamitously. In the very first minute right back Cranie played a stray ball across the backline looking for Martin Taylor. Cadamateri nipped in on Taylor’s blind side and went clean through on goal. Unfortunately the shot was one of Danny’s tamer efforts, and went straight down the keeper’s throat at a comfortable height. The chance though brought the crowd (estimated at 2000+ by Brian standing next to me) to life a lot quicker than they normally would for a match of this nature. It also brought Birmingham to life. A minute later they were all over us like a cheap suit. Nafti drifted out to the left and played a perfectly weighted ball infield to central defender Ridgewell, who was belying his role as a central defender by storming towards our penalty area. He took his shot first time and the ball flew like a rocket just over the bar. Our strikers struggle to hit shots like that, never mind our defenders. The Blues won a corner sixty seconds later and when the ball bounced out to Sebastian Larsson he hit a similar looking effort and again it whizzed narrowly over Brill and the bar. Nicholls played a lovely ball out wide to new boy Will Buckley after 8 minutes but the lad was robbed by a combination of Ridgewell and Taylor. The former played a lovely long ball up the line to send James McFadden away. The Scot went through on Brill from an angle and decided on the chipped shot as the most appropriate way of scoring. Luckily for us the ball floated agonizingly a yard wide of the far post. We were getting mauled here and it wasn’t pretty to watch. And so it continued. In the 13th minute Larsson fired a dangerous free kick high and wide. In the 16th minute Cranie launched a long throw into the box and defender James could only head it up in the air. Defender Martin Taylor (of Eduardo fame) came storming in out of nowhere and dived headlong at the ball. It was a very brave header and an equally accurate one. The ball went solidly into the corner of the net for the opening goal. In response, approximately 500 Birmingham fans behind that same goal went mental. Calm down, lads. It’s only a friendly, and you’re only playing Luton. I mean Jesus! 0-1. I feared we might be in for a thumping after the goal but it didn’t turn out that way at all. My players began to stop feeling intimidated and actually give this thing a go. After 20 minutes Brill hoofed one downfield and Bowditch managed to get on the end of it to go through on goal. The crowd held its breath. Bowditch let fly – and missed – by a mile. Oh dear. Birmingham launched a similar attack after 27 minutes, keeper Doyle sending O’Connor through on Brill. This time the shot was on target but so was Brill with the save, palming the ball as he did firmly out for a throw on the far side. Possession-wise we were back in the game now and causing our higher division opponents almost as many problems as they were causing us. In the 38th minute the artful Kevin Nicholls played a slide-rule pass into Keith Keane, in doing so creating our third one on one chance of the half. Keane got the ball on target but at a height the keeper would have been grateful for. Even so, the shot was far too powerful to catch. Doyle could only tip it over for a corner. The game could have swung in either direction just before half time. With 42 minutes on the clock Nafti finished off a nine or ten pass Birmingham move by shooting low from twenty yards. Brill made a fine save again, pawing the ball away from his left hand post. Then, with half time upon us, our majestic shot-stopper turned creator again, sending Bowditch away with another one of his killer long balls. The new signing surely had to make a better fist of things this around? He did. His low firm shot went under Doyle’s outstretched arm and inside the near post. 1-1. There was just time left for Birmingham to almost regain the lead in first half stoppage time. Nafti played the ball into O’Connor on the edge of the six yard box. The striker turned poor Tony James inside out to give himself a yard of space. It looked for all the world as though he would score but Brill produced an incredible reflex save from the eventual shot, improbably tipping the ball over to even earn himself some applause from the away fans. Thankfully the referee blew for the interval before the corner could be taken. I say thankfully because I was out of breath. ------ Half time – Luton 1 Birmingham 1 Martin mood’o’meter – out of breath ------ In the dressing room I saw fit to make three substitutions due to tiredness. Off came Nicholls, Keane, and Daniels. In their place came Easton, Niven, and Gill. I told the team to keep playing as they’d played in the first half. What else could I have possibly told them? However, this highly entertaining match was unduly spoiled at the beginning of the second half. Goalscorer Bowditch got the ball forty yards out and took a moment to look up and scan for options. Martin Taylor came storming up behind him and lunged into a horrible tackle from behind. It was only one footed, and Taylor did get some of the ball (sending it straight out for a throw) but Bowditch went down in a heap and stayed down. His subsequent scream brought about fifteen players from either side all into the centre circle to begin a game of push and shove. The next five minutes were absolute chaos. Somewhere in the middle of it all the referee showed Taylor the yellow card. If that wasn’t depressing enough, Bowditch was carried off on a stretcher. I could tell the injury was bad just from looking at his face. Indeed as he went past me towards the tunnel he shouted out that he’d broken his ankle. I looked from Bowditch to Taylor again and saw that the Birmingham centre back was walking away and grinning. “He grinned!” I said to the players on the bench. “Did anyone see that? He actually grinned!" “Get that thug off the pitch, referee!” Brian shouted, as incensed by Taylor’s grin as I was. The game went to pot after this. I made the rest of my substitutions after 55 minutes, as Birmingham had started to dominate again. They re-took the lead four minutes later; Midfield veteran Lee Carsley chipped the ball forwards and youngster Hogarth got involved in a mix-up with Brill. The ball inadvertently went sideways to O’Connor from and he rolled the ball into the goal from an angle for the easiest of finishes. I thought the players might go mad at Hogarth for that but they didn’t. I guess everybody was too worried about Bowditch. Chances were at a premium after that. Birmingham, having already being stung once after taking the lead, seemed happy to pass the ball around and only attack when the mood took them. We on the other hand, now with our entire second string on the pitch, still possessed plenty of fire in our bellies but without the skill to back it up. In short, we weren’t creating a bloody thing. After 74 minutes substitute Franck Queudrue almost made the game save when he shot from twenty five yards only to see the ball dip and ripple the roof of the net on its way into the Luton fans. Our first attack of the second period didn’t come until the 79th minute. McVeigh crossed from the right and Quinn went down under another reckless challenge from that man Taylor just outside the penalty area. New loan signing Spencer took the free shot but spooned it high over the wall and over the goal. Marcus Bent came on for Birmingham soon after and his pace created an opening all by itself. Bent took it all the way to the byline before pulling it back to Jaidi. He in turn played it in to Mutch. From here Mutch smacked it as hard as he could and the ball deflected off a defender and went over for a corner. In injury time Brill kicked a long one downfield and the ball swirled awkwardly in the wind causing Ridgewell and Taylor no end of aggro. It eventually fell into Spencer’s path, gifting the substitute a run on Doyle’s goal in the closing seconds. It was a tight angle but still a reasonable half chance under the circumstances. The shot was on target but weak, and I was quite surprised the keeper couldn’t hold onto it. Jaidi hacked it away when it bounced out to him and before we could take the throw-in the referee blew for time. FINAL SCORE (Att – 2316) Luton Town 1 (Bowditch 45) Birmingham City 2 (Taylor 16, O’Connor 59) Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
FlownCanary Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 Don't worry about any religious beliefs, I'm a light-hearted christian. (You've got to be if you're gonna be goth and christian!) Looks like you played OK against Birmingham, though I'd have personally shot Taylor! (reminds me of a certain Pablo Counago when they played Norwich in a playoff final.) Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 9, 2010 Author Share Posted January 9, 2010 Glad to hear that, Canary ---------------------------------------------------------- 22/07/09 - The tinkerman's folly I’m well aware of the dangers of chopping and changing my squad too much in too short a time. That said, I’ve made my twelth and thirteenth signings over the past few days. They didn’t come about because I actively went out and looked for them; I was merely acting in response to events happening around me. For instance, Dean Bowditch’s foot injury has now been assessed and the diagnosis is he won’t be available again for four months. Like I’ve said before, I don’t want the young lads Quinn and Sheridan to move up into the first team squad. Therefore I made the decision to seek out a loan signing to cover for Bowditch during his absence. I can now reveal then that 21 year old Colchester United striker Jamie Guy has joined us on a three month loan deal. By the time Guy goes back to Essex, Bowditch should be in the final throes of his recovery. I enjoy a good relationship with Colchester having snagged Matthew Gill on loan from them last season. Guy, despite failing to break through at Layer Road, has impressed at a number of clubs he’s gone out on loan to. Most notably, he scored 18 goals in 36 games for Oxford United during their unsuccessful promotion chasing campaign last season. Guy is a proven goal scorer at this level and will be good back-up for Bridges, Cadamateri, and Spencer. He may even jump ahead of Spencer in the pecking order if the young Evertonian’s missed chances against Birmingham turn out to be the norm for him. The biggest facet in Guy’s locker is his pace. If partnered with Cadamateri that could be quite the nightmare combination for opposition defences. I’m thinking though of going with Bridges and Cadamateri to start (once Michael is back in a couple of weeks) and having Guy on the bench for late-in-the-game impact against tired legs. That was signing number twelve. I must give Brian all the credit for signing number thirteen. After extensive conversations with him during the past month or two about our problem position on the right wing, Brian came to me the day after the Birmingham game with a recommendation. It’s not often Brian takes it upon himself to do this, so when he does I take him very seriously. The player he wanted me to consider was 18 year old right winger Michael Taylor at Aberdeen. According to an old colleague of Brian’s who now works at Pittodrie, Taylor is a prestigious talent but unlikely to break into the first team of a Scottish Premier Division club anytime soon. He would though be ideal for a club like ours, or even a lower down Scottish club. Brian was adament he could bag Taylor before anybody else just so long as I gave the green light quickly and without much dragging of feet. My assistant even offered to drive up to the Scottish East coast himself and sort out the particulars of the transfer on his own time. Initially he told me Taylor would cost about £300-400 a week. I told him that would be fine and to begin his long journey immediately. Due to the ongoing wage expenditure conflict between myself and Erica however, I didn’t want to have to explain the addition of yet another right winger to the squad when we’ve already got three on the books (two of which I’ve signed this summer!). Thus, I gave Brian strict instructions NOT to put Taylor in his car for the return journey until I could offload another player to make room for him. The man I chose to get rid of was not Stef Frost, as you might expect, but Paul McVeigh. The Scot was a first team regular last season but was definitely one of the weak links in the side. He has also prematurely reached a stage of his career where he can’t play more than an hour of a match without getting knackered. The upshot of this is that when McVeigh plays, one of my substitutions (and the rough time it’s made) is already decided before the match has even begun. Also, McVeigh earns £1600 per week. I could have done with getting rid of him purely for that fact alone. Hastily then I began touting McVeigh to any club who would pick up the phone to me. It was here I had two crucial slices of luck. Firstly, the player himself, when called into my private office for a meeting, agreed to leave for what would probably be a pay cut. To get the desired result I lied and told him the signing of Taylor was a foregone conclusion, and that McVeigh was unlikely to play more than a handful of games all season. Luckily for me McVeigh is one of those players who places just as much importance on playing regular football as he does earning a big income. In short, he agreed to go. My second big break was finding a club who would take McVeigh on reputation alone. Enter Weymouth from the same division. Their manager John Hollins remembered McVeigh from his glory days at Norwich City, and agreed to take the player as long as he agreed to drop his wages to £1100 per week. This was better than even McVeigh expected and the deal didn’t take long to complete from there on in. For the record, McVeigh played 35 league games under my stewardship, scoring 1 goal and averaging 6.68 in The Sun rating database. In total he played 60 games for Luton. Brian was already holed up in an Aberdeen Bed and Breakfast by the time the McVeigh deal went through. Once I gave him the green light once and for all to sign Taylor, he updated me that it would now cost £575 a week to bring him to Luton. Apparently the young lad and his family had been unsure about him making such a colossal move down South and needed extra ‘encouragement’ to agree to it. Because I’d just removed £1600 from the wage bill by offloading McVeigh, I agreed to the Taylor camp’s demands. Also on the move in the next week or so will be Brinsley Sheridan. If you’ve read all of this diary and have a very sharp memory, you’ll recall that Sheridan has played just 1 game for Luton and he scored in it. He then suffered an horrific broken leg and was out of action for ages. He’s recovered now but unlikely to break into the first team during my reign. Therefore I’ve decided to let him go. Since the news went public that Sheridan wants a new club, no fewer than twenty three non-league clubs have made an offer for him – there’s nothing like the feeling of being wanted! I’m glad for the lad though. He’s a hard grafter and I’m sure he’ll be a great asset for a smaller club. His departure will save another £90 per week on the expenditure sheet. For the record, my latest wheelings and dealings will reduce our wage spending to approximately 22k. That’s an improvement on the 24 or 25k figure it was when I had my last run-in with Erica, but it’s still way above the 14k limit. My final news for today is that goalkeeper Dean Brill has come down with a cold and will probably miss our next game against Stoke. The significance of this is that Brill is the only player who has played in every single game (no matter what the competition) since I joined the club. He’s improved a lot during that time too. Covering his absence will be 17 year old youngster David Reid. The understudy will certain get a baptism of fire against Premier Division Stoke! I’m sure he’ll enjoy the occasion though. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 9, 2010 Author Share Posted January 9, 2010 23/07/09 - Live bunny Talk about a waste of electricity. Here I was, approximately forty yards and two doors away from Glynn’s office, and yet we were holding a conversation over the telephone. I could hardly hear him due to the warbling of Nicky and Darren across the other side of the room. “Two thousand eight hundred season tickets we’ve sold now!” he repeated. “And there’s every chance we’ll pass three thousand before the season starts. That’s a superb amount for a Blue Square Premier side! If ever proof was needed that the New Luton strategy is working, this is it”. “So you don’t think it’s got anything to do with my exciting summer signings, or even the commendable battling performance we put in last week against a team three divisions higher than us?” Glynn laughed softly in the background. “Well, I suppose that might have had something to do with it. In the main though, New Luton is proving a raging success, and I doubt that store opening did any harm either. If there's one thing the people love in this day and age, it's a club which embraces the community at large". “Yeah okay Glynn” I sighed. “Listen, I’ve got work to do. I’ll talk to you later”. “Oh, right. Okay. Well I guess I’ll....”. He didn’t get to finish before I put the phone down. I looked up at the rest of the office, all of whom seemed to be doing a lot more talking than working. “What are we all discussing?” I asked, taking a sip of coffee. “We were just talking about how there’s ten workstations in this office” Nicky replied. “Yeah” said Darren. “And yet there are only four of us. We were wondering what these other desks were put in for if nobody’s ever going to use them”. I didn’t know the answer to that. Ever since I arrived at the club the communal offices have always run at a maximum of 50% capacity, and it only got that full when Alison was still here. Despite the empty desks though, the room is still compact enough for the two workers furthest away from each other (myself and Caroline in this instance) to hold a conversation. “This club wasn’t always in The Blue Square Premier” I responded. “I don’t know the exact dates involved but it will still be less than twenty years since Luton were playing in the top division with the likes of Man Utd and Arsenal. Maybe what you lot think is an oversized office was full back in those days? Maybe we needed extra staff back then to cope with the increased day to day activity? For instance, if we were still in the top league maybe we’d need two ticket administrators instead of one to cope with the added demand? I don't know. I'm just theorizing” Cue nods from around the room, except from Brenda who appeared disinterested. I couldn’t help glancing towards Nicky at this point (not for the first time today) and having a private moment of mental drooling. She was wearing a tight yellow t-shirt today and showing off every curve. The t-shirt was hardly within the strict code of office wear but who was I to stop her? Seconds later Brenda’s telephone went off, further distancing her from the conversation. “I think it’s symbolic of our crowd levels” Darren continued. “We’ve got a 10300 all seater stadium and yet we only usually fill about half of it. This office is the same – half full”. “There you go then” I said. “James” Brenda interrupted, her phone on her shoulder. “There’s a man on the line for you. His name is Wally Robins and he says from a TV company called Live Bunny”. “Okay, put him through” “Live Bunny?” I saw Caroline whisper in Darren’s direction, her face contorted in an expression of wonder. “James Martin” I said meanwhile, picking my phone up. “Hi James” came an Australian accent. “This is Wally Robins, manager of Live Bunny TV”. “Never heard of you”. “That’s understandable. We’ve only recently been formed. Now that Setanta have gone to the wall, we’ve signed a deal to cover conference games for the next three years. What I’m doing today is just placing a quick courtesy call to the managers in all three Blue Square divisions, just to let them know what’s going on”. “Thanks, I guess. You say your company’s name is Live Bunny?” “That’s right mate!” “That’s not a play on the words ‘Jive Bunny’ by any chance is it?” “If you want it to be” Wally chuckled. “The bunny part of the name though is going to be a very integral part of our marketing. You’re not a cricket fan by any chance are you, James?” “Only when we’re beating Australia” I said riskily. “Ha! Well anyway, on Aussie TV coverage of the cricket there’s a little cartoon duck that wobbles across the bottom of the screen whenever somebody’s out for zero. We’re going to be doing something similar, only with a bunny instead a duck. Basically mate, during Live Bunny TV matches we’re going to have a cartoon bunny walking across the bottom of the screen to hold up the score and things whenever there’s a goal, or a yellow card, or a substitution. You get the idea”. “And there was me thinking innovation was dead in the world!” I replied. “You’ll be pleased to know, James, your club has been selected for one of our first live games of the season. We’re going to be covering your match away to Oxford on August 12th”. “Cosmic”. “We’ll be send a pack through to your finance department over the next few days containing various contract details and other bits of information". In the background my staff had started to natter again, making it slightly awkward for me to hear Wally. Whatever it was they were talking though was certainly impassioned. “Okay Wally, just send it through to Bob Wharton. He’ll take care of all that kind of stuff. Oh, one question – you’re not covering the Conference League Cup as well by any chance are you? I know Setanta did back in the day”. “Yep, we’ll be covering every round of the Conference League Cup!” “Oh” I said, disappointed. “This is just between me and you but I was hoping that particular competition might drift under the radar a bit this season so I could put some squad players out without attracting too much exposure”. “You might want to have a re-think then, mate. We’ll be showing every round live on Channel Five. We’re even going to be changing the name of the competition too. For the next three years it’s going to be called The Live Bunny Cup. Catchy eh?” “You’re kidding me?” “No mate, not at all”. Despite his jokey nature, Wally was deadly serious on this point. By the time I put the phone down I’d started to wonder what those nice folk at the Hatters Online forum would make of their once great club now being entered into the draw for The live bunny cup. In the meantime, I had an over-enthusiastic set of office workers to calm down. “You’re not looking at the case facts!” Caroline said. “Oh, and you ARE, I suppose!” Darren retorted. “Okay, now what are you all talking about?” I intervened. “Foxy Knoxy” Darren said, turning to face me. “Innocent or guilty?” “You mean that Italian bird that’s on trial?” “No, she’s American, but yeah, her”. “Well I don’t know. I’m guessing she’s innocent though or they’d be more definite that she’s guilty”. “That’s exactly what I said!” Darren said triumphantly. “You guys are all the same!” Nicky butted in, apparently on Caroline’s side. “You only think she’s innocent because she’s hot! I'm telling you though, she is soooo guilty! It’s written all over her face”. “Well there we go then! Judge Willacy has spoken!” I joked. “Pass the sentence now”. “When is the trial anyway” Brenda asked. “It doesn’t say” Caroline answered, glancing down at her newspaper. “Okay, look” I said. “You know I hate saying this but I think it’s seriously time for some work today. So, let’s end this quickly. Hands up everybody who thinks Knox and her cronies are guilty”. Caroline and Nicky put their hands straight up. Brenda’s hand went halfway up and then came down again. “Nope, I can’t condemn them, not on what I’ve read” she explained. “That’s fine” I said. “So then, by the process of elimination, the defence wins by three votes to two. Sorry girls, but she’s walking free”. My ploy to gain some silence worked better than expected - Caroline and Nicky didn’t speak to me for the rest of the day. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 10, 2010 Author Share Posted January 10, 2010 24/07/09, Friendly Match 4 Luton Town v Stoke City GK – David Reid DL – Richie Byrne DR – Claude Gnakpa DC – George Pilkington DC – Tony James DMC – Kevin Nicholls MC – Keith Keane ML – Charlie Daniels MR – Michael Taylor FC – Danny Cadamateri FC – Jamie Guy If Birmingham of The Championship hadn’t been a stiff enough test, today we faced off against Premiership Stoke City, four tiers our superiors. Although I personally didn’t arrange this friendly, we only got it because of my very good relationship with opposite number Tony Pulis. I managed to get two players on loan from The Britannia Stadium last season, and in doing so developed a good rapport with Pulis over the phone. Like me he spent the entirety of the 2008/09 season fighting off relegation, and unlike me he succeeded. Stoke survived the drop by one place and one point in England’s top flight, and will be looking to build on their Premiership foothold over the coming season. I made two changes from the defeat against Birmingham, both forced. As announced already in the diary, Dean Brill was out with a cold so 17 year old David Reid came in for his debut. Also in was new loan signing Jamie Guy. I decided to go with him instead of Spencer as the replacement for Bowditch. Both teams lined up with 4.4.2 and I was hoping to see another battling performance like the one seen against Birmingham. It wouldn’t be easy though; Stoke were lining up at full strength. To begin with we contained our visitors very well. The first 10 minutes drifted by without any chances of note and with a lot of breakages in play. Indeed it took a full 13 minutes in total for the big boys to register their first shot, ex Reading man Dave Kitson firing one wide from thirty yards. After 19 minutes Stoke got a corner on the left and Higginbottom whipped one in. Shawcross met the header but flashed it just wide like an absolute bullet. Reid wouldn’t have got to that one. In the 25th minute Kitson and Gnakpa went up for a bouncing ball together on the edge of our penalty area. Gnakpa is a strong physical speciman against most players but Kitson isn’t what he’s used to playing against. The striker shrugged off the attentions of my right back and found himself on the ball with only Reid to beat from eight yards out. Kitson went for a firm low shot but Reid instinctively managed to make the save with his legs, and the ball bounded away. The impressive 4000+ crowd roared their appreciation for the young debutant, and even I clapped. That said, Stoke were beginning to turn the screw. Just a minute later the busy Higginbottom fired a low one into the area and Lawrence got on the end of it before anybody else. His shot was on target and firmly struck, but Pilkington’s leg got in the way and deflected it behind. Our big moment against the run of play was just around the corner. Daniels gathered the ball in central midfield and flicked a lovely reverse pass into the predatory Cadamateri. The striker helped the ball into his own path and then stormed towards the Stoke penalty area. The defenders though forced him to alter his course slightly wide of the goal. When the shot eventually came it was a chipped effort, the intention being to lob Sorenson from the angle. Unfortunately Cadamateri mis-judged it and the ball floated just wide of the far post. Five minutes later Wilson threw the ball into Whelan just outside our penalty area and from an angle. The danger wasn’t exactly ‘flashing red’ at this moment in time, but Whelan then launched an unstoppable angled shot. The ball flew past Reid like a rocket and into the far corner of the net. We had survived 36 minutes against our more illustrious opponents but now it was time to be put in our place. There wasn’t much celebration from Pulis though; he face didn’t even change expression as Whelan wheeled away and punched the air. Fair play to him. 0-1. There was one more chance before half time, and it fell to Stoke. A corner was whipped in from the far side this time and the ball fell to Shawcross on the penalty spot. It was easier to score than miss but the defender inexplicably blasted it over the bar. ------- Half time – Luton 0 Stoke 1 Martin Mood’o’meter – content but bored. ------- The players are starting to get a lot fitter now that pre-season has entered its second stage of matches. As a result, I left what I considered to be the first choice eleven on the pitch today a lot longer than I have been doing. Judging by what then occurred at the start of the second half though, I almost wished I hadn't. The calamity began in the 50th minute and ended in the 52nd. In the 50th, Stoke got a corner on the near side and hoofed it into the middle as usual. What followed was a penalty box melee where about ten players seemed to try and kick each other at once. The ball eventually (somehow) found its way into the corner of the net, and as I’m writing this five hours later I’m still not entirely sure how. The stadium announcer claimed it to be an own goal, but at the time he didn’t say who. Brian said he saw some red boots in there somewhere, where as I thought I saw some white and green ones. Whoever got the final touch though wasn’t announced until much later that evening – Charlie Daniels. That second goal knocked all the stuffing out of us, and less than two minutes later Stoke added a third. This time there was no doubt at all what happened. Kitson simply played a slide-rule pass through to Whelan who burried it past Reid as if it was second nature. Suddenly the scoreboard had gone from a respectable 0-1 to 0-3 in the blink of an eye, and there was still 38 minutes to play! Thankfully the avalanche subsided for a while after that, and somewhere in the middle of the second half I made a huge batch of substitutions. Spencer and Quinn came on for Guy and Cadamateri up front, Gill and Niven replaced Keane and Nicholls in the centre of midfield, Easton came on for Daniels on the left wing, Buckley replaced Taylor on the right wing, McCracken and Howarth came on for James and Pilkington in the centre back positions, and Beavon replaced Byrne at left back. The only two players to get a full game were Claude Gnakpa at right back and David Reid in goal. Reid though was in for more misery later on. In the 77th minute Wilson chipped the ball over his head standing on the byline and Sidibe slid in to tap a home a fourth goal. Then in injury time Pugh and Wilkinson combined in the centre of the park to send substitute Cresswell away. There were defenders either side of him but he took his shot early and slid it under a despondant Reid for 0-5. Most of the crowd had already wandered out by this point. We did have two shots in the second half (so three total then!) but they were long range efforts hardly worth mentioning. They weren’t even on target. In general, once Stoke got their second and third goals in quick succession, they played the rest of the game out with countless short passes to each other. We’d given up the ghost by that point and couldn’t be bothered giving more than a token effort. Still, it hurts to lose 0-5 at Kenilworth Road no matter what the opposition. We’ve now failed to win any of our ten friendlies under my leadership. FINAL SCORE (Att - 4569) Luton Town 0 Stoke City 5 (Whelan 36, 52, Daniels o.g 50, Sidibe 77, Cresswell 90+2) Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
FlownCanary Posted January 11, 2010 Share Posted January 11, 2010 Tough loss against Stoke dude! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 11, 2010 Author Share Posted January 11, 2010 You're telling me! -------------------------------------------------------------- 01/12/05 - The world's longest holiday “I’ve lied to you about something” Charlotte admitted, fidgeting nervously with her drink. “Lied about what?” “It’s nothing major. Well, you might think it’s major. It depends, I guess”. We were sat in the middle of a Weatherspoons in Leeds City Centre. To be more precise, we were up on the first floor balcony at a table overlooking the crowds at ground level. It was a raucous night but I only had eyes for my very beautiful girlfriend. If I’d known she’d look this good in a low cut black dress back when I’d asked her out, I probably wouldn’t have had the cajones to do it. “Go on then, spill the beans”. “Well” she began slowly. “Do you remember when we first started seeing each other, and I said I was going to take a few months off after the broken arm thing before looking for work again?” “Yeah, you said you wanted to use the broken arm as the starting point for a very long break from work, perhaps lasting up to six months”. “My God, you remember my exact words! Well anyway, the truth is, I’m not actually planning on going back to work for another four years and four months”. “I don’t understand” I replied. “Well, let me put it another way. I’m twenty five now. I’m not going back to work until I’m thirty. In fact, I’m about halfway through my prolonged vacation because I haven’t actually had a job since I was nineteen. That administration job at the travel agents I told you about – it was real but it was also six years ago”. This was quite a revelation, although not necessarily a relationship-ending one. I took a sip of my beer and glanced over the balcony. Down below I could see my friend and his two chums from work trying to get served. They were finding it difficult though due to the crowd. “My friend is here already” I said. “I reckon he’ll find us in about five minutes at most, which I suppose gives me about five minutes to find out more about this weird non-work ethic thing you’ve got going on”. “Let me explain” said Charlotte. “It’s not because I’m lazy. Well, I suppose it is in a way. But, I’m only doing it because I can get away with doing it. I come from money you see, but I reckon you already guessed that”. “Kind of” I admitted. “Well anyway, let me give you the quick version. When I was eighteen I inherited....a lot of money. Despite that, I still went and got a job just because I thought it was the right thing to do. After less than a year though I got bored and I found myself having all these aspirations about travelling and seeing the world. So that’s what I went and did”. “And presumably” I continued for her. “It was when you were out travelling the world you developed a taste for all those dangerous hobbies of yours – like rock climbing and pot holing, and all the rest of it”. “Precisely” she replied. “I decided at some point early on that I would spend my entire twenties doing what I wanted, and then at thirty I’d settle down and have a more normal life. Does that make me sound really bad?” I couldn’t really say that it did. I had to admit that if I’d inherited ‘a lot of money’ at eighteen I probably would have done more or less the same thing. “What if you still don’t feel like getting a job at thirty?” I queried. “Are you sure you’ll be able to adapt to work again after so long jetting around? I find it difficult enough to go back to work after just a fortnight off” “If nothing else I’ll adapt because I’ll need to adapt. I don’t have enough money to be able to do what I want forever. At the same rate I’ve been spending over the past five years, I reckon it will probably all run out by the time I’m forty. I don’t want to end up with nothing though. That’s why I’ve decided to go back to normal life at thirty. When I’m thirty I’ll still have money to buy a house and set myself up etcetera. Also, I’ll still be young enough to be a mum if I want to be, or meet a nice guy if I need to. It’s harder to do those things if you’re forty”. “Also, I suppose you won’t be able to do the more physical holiday activities once you’re in your thirties”. “That too!” she replied, and there was a hint of a smile back on her face now. I think she was starting to sense I wasn’t too mad at her for lying, or even for being on the world’s longest vacation. I reached my right hand across the table and gently took hold of her left. Then I looked into her eyes and smiled. The man's-hair-on-a-woman thing had grown on me every week we’d been together so far, so much so that when she’d shown me a picture of her recently from when she’d had long hair, I’d just found it weird. “I forgive you for lying” I said, in what I hoped was a loving voice. “I meant what I said a couple of weeks ago. I love you, and if you love me too then I’m happy for you to see out the rest of this holiday of yours. If we’re still together in four years though, that’s when we settle down. Four years of fun sounds good and I’m up for that, at least for the parts I can get off work. There’s a limit to all this though, and the limit is four years and four months”. “I do love you back, James, and yes it’s a promise. Four years and then we'll settle down". She giggled, and I guess I giggled back a little bit too (albeit in a more masculine way). Another glance over the railing told me my invited guests were now being served and exchanging money with the bar ladies. Very soon, Charlotte and I would be alone no longer. “You know, just for the record, I also told a lie when I first met you”. “Did you indeed?” Charlotte exclaimed. “And what might that be?” “Well, I told you I got my neck scar when I was white water rafting. Actually, I got into a kind of fight with a weirdo and I guess I lost”. “That’s okay” she chuckled. “I so knew that was a lie anyway! I just didn’t want to argue with you at the time because it was our first date”. “Well, now you know the truth. Actually, that reminds me. You know that pub lunch we’re going on tomorrow?” “If we’re not suffering from too much of a hangover, yeah”. “Well, if it’s okay with you, I want to make a pit-stop on the way there. It’ll only be five minutes out of our way. I want to stop off at the old football club I used to play at when I was a kid, maybe take a look at the pitch and changing rooms. Is that okay? Like I said, I’ll only be five minutes”. “Ooooh, a nostalgia trip! Okay”. “Cool”. Our alone time was officially up. My friend and his friends all suddenly appeared out of nowhere, all carrying beers. Without invitation they began pulling chairs away from the next table over and sitting on them to the side of mine and Charlotte’s table. “Charlotte” I said, perhaps more formally than I’d intended. “This is my friend Steve Fairclough that I told you about, and these two cheerful fellows are his friends from work – Rick and Jim”. Cue handshakes all around and varying nods of the head. “Jesus” said Steve. “I was expecting some weird looking skydiving type chick, not this stunningly beautiful young woman I see sitting before me”. “Thanks buddy!” I said sarcastically, as Charlotte put her hand over her mouth in another fit of giggles. “Don’t worry, love, he’s always like this” said Rick. “I hope you’re taking care of my guy here” Steve continued, sliding over to me. “He’s going to be a hotshot football manager one day; not as good as me, but still good all the same”. Before I could react Steve playfully put me in a headlock and began rubbing my forehead. The pain only lasted two seconds, and it’s a good job I knew it would only last two seconds from past experience. If I hadn’t I might have tried to fight back. “Don’t worry” Charlotte said, struggling to speak between fits of laughter. “I’ll take care of him real good”. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
dechardonay Posted January 11, 2010 Share Posted January 11, 2010 In a way, I'm hoping James and Steve patch things up, I was a bit dissatisfied with that subplot, but hey, if it's destiny that they're going to hate each other, then so be it :? I take it an AFC Wimbledon fixture is coming? Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 12, 2010 Author Share Posted January 12, 2010 Not until November, so theoretically I could even get sacked (if I start poorly) before we meet ------------------------------------------------------------------ 27/07/09 - Boldly going where no manager has gone before Full credit to Cyril and Lee; they kept their promise to change the name of the souvenir shop. The sign outside now proudly reads – The Luton Town Souvenir Shop, in memory of Tommy Wiggins. They won’t have made the change completely unselfishly. I bet load of people during friendly season have wandered inside the shop to ask who Tommy Wiggins is, in doing so putting themselves in a position of being able to see the proprietors’ stock. That’s fine though. The port-a-cabin is in the main Luton Town car park now, but as I arrived at work today I noticed a second port-a-cabin about fifty yards away from the original. It appeared to be a second shop, this one bearing the title – The Luton Town Megastore. Both port-a-cabins were facing each other (rather ominously, I thought) across the tarmac. Curiosity getting the better of me, I decided to pop in to see Cyril and Lee and find out what was going on. “Hey guys, how’s it going?” I asked. “Hi James” said Lee. “It’s going okay I suppose”. “It bloody well isn’t” Cyril chipped in miserably. I looked around the cabin. I hadn’t seen this room for months, not that much of it had changed. It was still packed full of various Luton memorabilia of all shapes and sizes. The only thing that was different was the presence of seven or eight cardboard boxes over by the far wall. “What’s up big guy?” I enquired. “What’s up?” Cyril repeated in an exasperated tone, his plastic black glasses still as funny as they'd always been. “Have you not seen that monstrosity across the car park?” “You mean the other port-a-cabin? Yeah I saw it. That’s what I came to ask you about actually. I thought you might have expanded the business or something”. “We haven’t expanded anything! Somebody else has moved in our turf and opened a rival shop!” “Who has?” Cyril sat down at the Deathmatch table and beckoned me to follow suit, albeit with the body language of someone who really didn’t look like they could be bothered to do anything today. Lee meanwhile elected to stay out of the conversation and continue pottering around with the stock. “His name’s Albie Bootle” Cyril continued. “He’s a first class goon if you ask me. Apparently he phoned up this new acting chairman guy, Bob Wharton, and requested he be allowed to open a new megastore here in the car park. Wharton said no at first, stating quite correctly that me and Lee already had that base covered”. “So what happened then?” “Well, then Albie told him that mine and Lee’s shop only specialises in souvenirs and ‘items of a vintage nature’, and that a gap in the Luton Town market existed for a brand new megastore to sell the more in-demand items, things like home shirts, scarves, and recent programmes”. “You don’t sell that stuff yourself?” “We do, but only via order forms taken from the club website! Darren Simmons came to us a while back and asked if we would do it that way so the website would get more hits, bigger sales statistics, and so on and so forth. We didn’t mind at the time because we’ve always much preferred selling the older stuff anyway. That’s where our passion lies! That isn’t to say though we wanted some snotty little nobody coming in out of nowhere and taking over the mainstream niche!” I had spit on my face now, not that Cyril had noticed. When he gets passionate he spits when he’s talking. The trick is to lean back in your chair whilst you’re talking to him so you don’t get drenched. Personally I don’t really care one way or the other how Luton merchandise gets sold and by whom. By now though I was trapped in the foreground of Cyril’s glare; he would be expecting me to hear this one out all the way to the bitter end. “What are you going to do about this situation?” I asked. “The only thing we can do. We’re going to start selling our own mainstream stuff again. Screw Darren and his damn website. It’s war now! Every man to himself!” Cyril pointed across the room in the direction of the cardboard boxes, and I instantly guessed they were filled with home and away shirts. “How has business been anyway?” “It’s gone up since we moved into the car park, just as I thought it would. It’ll probably go down again though now that dufus-face has opened his megastore”. “Megastore!" I chuckled. "Come off it. It’s a port-a-cabin with a few scarves and shirts in it, probably anyway”. “For now it is!” Cyril said firmly. “What happens when Albie makes a mint though? He’ll expand and turn it into a bigger building. We’ll gradually get phased out! This is how conglomerates go bust, when rivals comes in and start cornering the market!” “Oh come on, you don’t know that yet. Why don’t you just see how it goes for a while? For all you know, you and this Albie guy might be able to live in perfect harmony, you doing your thing and him doing his”. A nasty look flashed across Cyril’s spotty face, and I guessed I might have deeply offended him with that last suggestion. “Perfect harmony? ‘Live’, in perfect harmony? With him? We couldn’t live in perfect harmony with him even if he offered to sell us his business for 1p and then come and work with us for free! We could never get into bed with someone who follows the old enemy”. “He’s a Watford fan?” I asked, confused. “No, Star Trek”. “You’re joking, right? No, you’re not joking. Of course you’re not”. “Well duh! Why would a Watford fan open a Luton merchandise shop? No, Albie’s a Hatter alright, but he’s also a damn Trekkie. He’s even selling Star Trek stuff at the back of the megastore”. I stood up and deliberately coughed a few times to hide the laughter bubbling below the surface of my lips. Cyril seemed not to notice. "They think they're soooooo intelligent, Star Trek fans" he continued. "Them and their sad little ways, and little conventions, and their little Trekkisms. Have the Star Trek films made $4.3 billion dollars like the Star Wars ones though?! Have they hell". “You know what? I’m going to go and take a look at this new shop for myself. Hang on”. I couldn't listen to anymore. I had to get out. Now. I left the souvenir shop and journeyed fifty yards across the car park to The Luton Town Megastore, contained as it was within the small confines of yet another shabby little port-a-cabin. I got a shock when I wandered inside because stood there in front of me, arms folded proudly, was the same man who had taken my Deathmatch title at the back end of last season. The guy’s name that day, I now remembered, had been Albie. On the name alone I hadn’t been able to make the connection. “Greetings and salutations” Albie said. “Hello again” I replied. He was a fat man, not hugely fat, but still fat. He was also wearing an actual Star Trek uniform today (a blue one). Between him and Cyril, I couldn’t help wondering who had the least favourable chance of getting a girlfriend. “It’s been a while, Mr Martin sir”. “Indeed it has. I was just passing and thought I’d come and see your new store”. “It’s an honour to meet you again. By all means have a look and tell me what you think”. I took a few steps and looked around the place. The middle of the room, choc full as it was with the exact same Luton merchandise I’d expected to find in here, was just fine. The things that really grabbed my attention though were the toy planets dangling down off the ceiling. Albie also had a Star Trek : The Motion Picture poster on the wall, and at the back of the store (as indicated by Cyril) was a whole stash of Starship Enterprise memorabilia. Unlike Cyril and Lee, who at least made a token effort to keep the Star Wars stock out of view, Albie seemed quite happy to fuse his entire shop floor in a weird 50/50 blend of both Star Trek and Luton FC items. As I stood there taking all this in, it’s actually hard to put into words the sheer extent to which my eyes felt abused. “Have you still got your Deathmatch title?” I asked off the cuff. “Yep” Albie beamed proudly. “I’ve won seventy eight matches in a row now, most of them online”. “Does Cyril know that you're the one who has his title now?” “I don’t think so”. 'Jesus' I thought. 'It really is going to be world war three around here'. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
FlownCanary Posted January 13, 2010 Share Posted January 13, 2010 I love the Star Trek vs Star Wars thing! I'm a huge Star Wars fan and my girlfriend is a Trekkie, so I totally get that! Amazing! The way you integrate your characters with your main story of Luton FC, is superb. Are you sure you're not a writer? Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
WelshWolf Posted January 13, 2010 Share Posted January 13, 2010 I love the Star Trek vs Star Wars thing! I'm a huge Star Wars fan and my girlfriend is a Trekkie, so I totally get that! Amazing! See, I dont get that. I am a fan of both and have enjoyed watching them throughout my childhood and not once have I considered them as opposing forces. The story is brilliant as ever and I am enjoying it alot, always looking in on this forum before I do anything else. Keep it up 1 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 13, 2010 Author Share Posted January 13, 2010 Thanks for the continued kind words and encouragement you two! Personally I'm not a fan of either franchises, but if I had to pick one to try it would probably be Star Trek. ------------------------------------------------------------------ 29/07/09, Friendly Match 5 Luton Town v Bristol City GK – Dean Brill DL – Richie Byrne DR – Claude Gnakpa DC – George Pilkington DC – Tony James DMC – Kevin Nicholls MC – Keith Keane ML – Charlie Daniels MR – Michael Taylor FC – Danny Cadamateri FC – Jamie Guy I was glad to welcome Dean Brill back from his time at home with a cold; David Reid made way. I’m slightly worried Reid will be traumatised for life after that Stoke game but he assures me he’ll learn from it and come back stronger. Apart from in the keeper position there were no changes. We lined up with our usual 4.4.2 and so did Bristol City. The Robins are a Championship club who were desperately unlucky to miss out on promotion last season. They fought all the way to line with Ipswich Town but missed out by one point, eventually finishing third. They couldn’t pick themselves up from that disappointment in time for the playoffs and ended up finishing the season exactly where they’d started. Most of the tabloids I follow though predict they’ll make the playoffs again this coming season. Embarrassed by what had happened against Stoke, we began this match brightly. We didn’t create any early chances but we chased and harried our opponents all over the pitch, making it difficult for them to play. Ten minutes passed without a single incident of note, lest you count Keith Keane being told to calm himself down by a suntanned referee. Then the twenty minute mark came and went. I was really starting to enjoy this – it was the most satisfying snore bore I’d ever seen! In the end it took 26 minutes for the visitors to have their first decent attack, and it came courtesy of a corner. The lively Sproule took it and striker Danny Webber made a run for the near post. He caught hold of a beautiful left footed volley but the resulting low shot flashed across the six yard box and past the far post. That though finally opened the floodgates for a whole host of Bristol City attacks. The next one came five minutes later; a throw in on the far side was inadvertantly flicked on into his own penalty area by an off balance George Pilkington. Carey got on the end of it and sent a firm header down the centre of the goal. Brill though calmly got down and made the save. In the 34th minute it was the turn of Webber again. This time the former Sheffield United man used some sublime skill to free himself from the attentions of Pilkington and James about twenty yards out. The resulting shot though was poor, and went both high and wide. I was concerned now at the barrage being directed at us, but given how lucky we’d been up until this point, I thought we might have a chance of surviving until half time. Lee Trundle thought otherwise, and after 37 minutes carved open my defence with a pass through to Webber. By rights this should have been the opening goal, as Webber was now clean through on Brill. His finish though was diabolical. He got his shot on target but it was so poorly hit Brill managed to catch it easily without even having to move left or right. Several more minutes ticked by without incident, and with a minute to go until half time we safely had the ball in our posession. Byrne passed it to Daniels on the left wing. I was interested to see what he could do from here but carelessly he was robbed by Orr. The Bristol City player then played a one-two with Carey before threading it down the line to Sproule. With the linesman ready to dust off his added-on time board, Sproule cut inside and crossed it in. Trundle met the ball with a diving header but Brill produced a wonderful reflex stop on the line. Unluckily though, the ball then went out to Johnson, who poked it home. 0-1. ------- Half time – Luton 0 Bristol City 1 Martin mood-o-meter - fed up of friendlies. ------- I took a risk at half time; I criticised the players for being a goal down against a side three divisions higher. I could just as easily have mollycuddled them and told them defeat was inevitable. However, I thought to do that might be the catalyst for another second half drubbing. Footballers have a nasty habit sometimes of lowering their effort levels if they think it will be deemed okay for them to lower their effort levels. My secret hope was to catch Bristol City cold at the start of the second half whilst they were perhaps still pondering on how easy the game was. No suck luck I’m afraid. As early as the 48th minute Elliot took hold of a pass from the far touchline and whacked a very hard shot which might have gone in but for a deflection around the post. Then after 53 minutes that man Bradley Orr went on a mazy dribble through the centre of the park. His run ended with a sideways pass to Elliot, who in turn played a beautiful through ball into Sproule. The angle was tight so I put my money on Brill to thwart him. Sproule though fired high and wide. I’d seen enough by now so there was really no card left to play apart from the substitutions. In the 55th minute then I made most of my usual swops. Beavon came on for Byrne, McCracken for James, Easton for Daniels, Gill for Nicholls, Niven for Keane, Buckley for Taylor, Spencer for Cadamateri, and Bridges (returning from injury) for Guy. There were also two swaps I neglected to make in an attempt to keep the score down. I kept Pilkington on the pitch instead of bringing the young lad Howarth on, and I also refrained from replacing Brill with Reid. Our fortunes improved after this, partly because the Robins became embroiled in making their own batch of substitutions and partly because we had fresh legs all over the place. In the 69th minute we even managed our first shot at goal, Spencer wriggling clear of his markers just long enough to fire a long range shot high and wide. In the 71st minute, Skruse played the ball to Webber who then picked out Sproule with a magnificent piece of vision. The pass split my defence and sent Sproule through on Brill again but from a much more favourable angle. The shot beat my keeper but bounced off the upright and away. We immediately went on the counter attack. Nivens fed Gill, who then sprayed it out to Easton on the left wing. He got heavily challenged at this point and I thought he might lose the ball. Easton though proved a lot stronger than Daniels had been under similar circumstances in the first half, bullying his way through adversity to get his cross in. The nature of the cross reminded me of that one Barnes put in for Lineker towards the end of the 1986 world cup quarter final against Argentina. Here, the net result was the same. A defender, in this instance Artus, got in front of my striker (in this instance Bridges) just in time and sent the ball out for a corner. Bristol City cleared their lines but Niven and Gill worked together again, and this time the end product was a perfectly weighted through ball to Buckley. He was behind the defence but at a slight angle. Could he score? No. He shot low and hard but the ball bounced off the keeper. However, remarkably it went straight back to Buckley! Could he score this time? No. A second low shot was again pushed away by the keeper. The crowd were riled now though! They sensed an equaliser. I don’t know how but we suddenly had control of the game. After 79 minutes Niven took a quick free kick to Bridges about thirty yards out. Bristol City were fast asleep and Bridges was able to slip a clever ball into Gill on the edge of the area. A natural striker might have been able to hone in on goal from here. Gill though took one touch, realised a defender was charging in towards him, and quickly hit a rash shot high and wide. We weren’t finished! The goal was possibly on its way. With 85 minutes on the clock, McCracken headed the ball forwards and the impressive Niven collected it midway through the Bristol half. He then produced a lovely chipped ball over the defence to send Buckley away towards the byline. The substitute winger sold a dummy to his marker and turned in towards goal. It was an impossibly tight angle but Buckley had the confidence to go for it. He rifled in a low shot which went through the keeper’s legs and ran agonizingly along the goal-line, somehow crossing the byline beyond the far post. The Championship side tried to attack in response but we kept breaking their attacks up. With the 90th minute now on the board, Spencer played the ball into Bridges who had a clear sight of goal about twenty yards out. Rather than risk dribbling the ball closer (defenders might have intercepted him), he tried to lob the backtracking keeper. He succeeded in this but the ball went narrowly wide. The whistle went soon after and the crowd seemed pleased enough with what they’d seen, despite the loss. The second string had certainly outperformed the first string though. I now had a selection headache. FINAL SCORE (Att - 2135) Luton Town 0 Bristol City 1 (Johnson 44) Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 14, 2010 Author Share Posted January 14, 2010 30/07/09 - Dining with Dilic Part 1 As the title suggests, tonight was my dinner date at the Dilic house. Furthermore, the fact I’m writing this after the event will tell you I didn’t get killed or tortured whilst I was there. I always did think it would be safe to go though, and so it proved the case. If Dilic wanted to hurt me he would have done it back at the warehouse in May. I haven’t done anything since then to pee him off so what did I have to worry about? I haven’t lost any more Luton matches (ones that count anyway), and I haven’t gone near Cassie either. If you’re wondering why I would even want to have dinner with the man who almost had me tortured me to death, let me remind you it was never Dilic’s intention for the drill/scalpel to ever touch my neck. It had all been a ruse to get me to spill the beans about Dave Wheelie, that and perhaps a small dose of retribution for kissing Cassie without permission. Okay, granted it’s not exactly acceptable to make someone think they’re going to be sliced up. Nor is it acceptable to bash someone over the head in the first instance and drag them to a warehouse unconscious. I never thought for a second about not going to the dinner tonight though. Let me try and explain why that was in more detail. As much as I don’t condone some of the things Dilic has done since he’s been at Luton, I also have to look at the argument for the defence. Dilic comes from a place abroard where the day to day routine in everyday life is violence and terror (so I’m lead to believe). Over time he learnt that to stay at the top of the Serbian business world it was essential to have a support network of unsavoury characters by his side ready to protect him. It was Cassie who told me this, once upon a time, and that brings me onto my next point. Cassie. Now here is a girl Dilic adopted on the fly when he realised she was stranded in a bar with nowhere to go. He didn’t do it for sexual gain, or indeed any other gain, and here she now is at the age of eighteen seemingly with the potential to become a very respectable woman indeed. I’ve hung out with Cassie on several occasions, and I’ve talked to her at length about her guardian several times over. She doesn’t have a single bad word to say about him, and she constantly reiterates the point that Dilic’s ruthlessness is all an elaborate act to make people afraid of him, and that secretly he’s a big softie whose biggest pleasure in life is doting on the stepchild he wishes was really his. I didn’t have to make my own way to the dinner. Dilic sent the Mercedez to my house to pick me up, a goodwill gesture on his part. I half expected to see Brute sat behind the wheel when I hopped in, but he wasn’t there. Driving the car instead was someone I didn’t recognise. He was yet another Serbian though, judging from his accent. I couldn’t tell if he was bald though (like most of them seem to be) because he was wearing the chauffeur’s hat. The journey out to the Bedfordshire countryside took about twenty minutes. During this time I found myself doing a mental u-turn and making some more points for the prosecution. Was there still the possibility Dilic was as bad as I’d first thought, and that he’d only spared me in the warehouse because I was too ‘close’ to him on a professional level? Was it conceivable Cassie had been brainwashed by Dilic, and that all this time he had been successfully shielding her from seeing his murkier side? Was there even the possibility Cassie was willing to lie and protect Dilic because of the financial security he gave her? Was she capable of that? I didn’t think so, but I wasn’t totally 100% sure. It was the way Cassie had acted outside the warehouse which had raised a red flag with me, even if I hadn’t realised it until quite some time afterwards. There had been something about her that night at the warehouse which had been different from the Cassie I’d seen on all those football trips. Gone was the cute little Cassie with the notepad drawing llamas at Chester Zoo, and later on in our aquaintance, stumbling in the wind on Grimsby docks. Instead I’d been presented with this sassy, backseat leg-crossing, eyebrow flashing, lying (for the greater cause, she’d said at the time) ultra confident Cassie. There was always the chance I was overreacting to the memory, and in doing so, failing to acknowledge that people act differently on different days. Darren acts differently on different days sometimes, and I don't worry about him. Brian acts differently on different days. My players DEFINITELY act differently on different days. Why then did Cassie’s demeanour in the back of that Mercedez stick in the memory? By the time we arrived at the mansion my mind was utterly befuddled with Dillic and Cassie contradictions of all shapes and sizes. The only remedy I could think of was to simply not think about that stuff, even though I was probably only minutes away from being reunited with both Dilic and Cassie at the same time. I only realised we were there when the Serbian driver pulled up at a gate in the middle of a huge red wall we’d been driving alongside for about a half a mile. There was a sentry on the gate; he was learning out of a tiny little hut like the type you see sometimes at car parks. The man in the hut nodded in the driver’s direction and pulled the necessary strings to make the gate open. It opened from the centre outwards and did so mechanically. On top of the wall, either side of the gate(s), I could see two close circuit TV camera’s pointing in the direction of our car. Evidently Dilic was just as thorough about security at home as he was when walking around with Brute at Kenilworth Road. As I’ve already indicated, the red wall we drove alongside prior to reaching the gates ran for quite some distance, and that was just in the direction I saw! Taking that into account, and also the fact the actual mansion was a further two or three hundred yards back from the gates, I could only imagine just how many acres Dilic owned out here. Anyways, the driver of my ride had obviously seen it all before. He sped up the gravel track towards the house with all the subtlety of a joy-rider in a sports car. Maybe he was worried he’d be tortured if he delivered me later than promised? You never know. “Out!” he said firmly, before getting out of the car himself. I did as instructed and then watched in semi bemusement as the driver walked off without me around the side of the house. I was just pondering whether I should have been following him or not when another man came through the huge oak doors at the front. Judging by his old age, and also the way he was dressed, I quickly guessed he was some sort of butler. “Greetings, Mr Martin” he said in an English accent. “Ramsbottom - at your service”. “Delighted” I replied. He bowed in front of me, and gestured that I should follow him inside. I did just that and stepped across the threshold. I was now in a huge hallway which seemed to have several hundred rooms leading off it, some of them only accessible atop of two sets of stairs that ran adjacent to each other on both sides of the room. Dangling down from the ceiling were two huge chandeliers like the kind Rodney and Del once dropped in Only Fools and Horses. Indeed I was just about to ask Ramsbottom if he’d ever seen that episode when a familiar figure appeared from a doorway over on the left. “Ah! James! You ave made it. I am veally veally glad to have you as my guest zis evening”. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Dickie12 Posted January 15, 2010 Share Posted January 15, 2010 Wooo I cant wait to see what unfolds at dinner with Dilic!! This story is so good! All the drama that happened alongside the football last season seems to have finished so I cant wait to see what unfolds this season! Also hopefully you have a good start to the season so you can keep your job and continue the story further!! Thrilling read! Keep it up mate! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 16, 2010 Author Share Posted January 16, 2010 Thanks Dickie. I'll probably keep going at another club even if I do get sacked ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 30/07/09 - Dining with Dilic Part 2 Dilic had gone all out for this one; he was dressed in a James Bond dinner jacket and bowtie. His appearance actually made me glance down at my very very casual shirt and wonder if I was underdressed. “Hi” I said meekly. “You must be hungry” my host proclaimed, before turning to Ramsbottom. “Go check on ze food. Ve vill veady in about five mintes. In ze meantime, I’m going to show our guest ze vest of ze property”. “Of course sir” Ramsbottom replied, bowing curtly. As the butler hurried off with purpose, Dilic put an arm around my shoulder and guided me towards the first door he wanted me to go through. It actually turned out to be the door to a mazy corridor which seemed to zig-zag through much of the first floor. Every now and again my chairman-cum-dinner host would pause to show me a room before swiftly marching on again, a bit like Willy Wonka does when he’s guiding the kids through that chocolate factory in the film (or book, if you like). I also couldn’t help thinking of the film Hostel during this process. I refer to the scene where the leading man is getting dragged down a very long corridor by some guards, and every ten yards or so he can see the varying forms of grisly torture going on in all the side rooms. My near death experience in the warehouse must have had a more lasting effect on me than I’ve aptly been able to depict. Every time Dilic opened a new door I kept expecting to see a dungeon room with Doctor Jorkic inside it carving someone open. When I was shown the indoor swimming pool towards the back of the property, I thought I might see piranha fish inside it, or even a couple of alligators wading around. As it was, the only predator on public display was Cassie. She was floating on the water atop of an inflatable sun lounger. She had sunglasses and a bikini on and was reading a book, the title of which I couldn’t make out from this distance. When we entered the pool area though she lowered her book and did a little wave with one of her hands. “Ze swimming pool area” Dilic announced, stating the obvious. “And of course, I know you are familiar with my stepdaughter”. We both waved back at Cassie and then moved on. “Is Cassie not joining us for dinner?” I asked, as we finally reached the dining room. “At ze risk of disappointing you, no. It vos her decision though, not mine. She has informed me of your decision to end ze possibility of you dating in a year’s time, and she feels some time away from you is a wise decision at ze present time”. I offered no further comment on the subject other than to nod my head, and moments later we were seated at a luxurious dining table. It was built for a maximum of about twenty people.Tonight however only two places would be filled, Dilic at the head of the table and me to his immediate left. I wanted to ask if there was a Mrs Dilic anywhere but couldn’t find the right way of asking. The main meal, when it arrived, was a variation on Sunday roast. Contained within the draughty and somewhat eerie atmosphere of the long room, we ate curtly and without ceremony. Dilic engaged me in conversation about the state of the first team, and how we’re shaping up ahead of the first league game against Woking. It felt odd talking to him like this, as if we were bussom buddies. I couldn’t help wondering if he was gradually softening me up for something on a more serious level. Sure enough, as Ramsbottom was carrying the dishes away between dinner and desert.... “I suppose I should tell you ze main reason I brought you here tonight”, Dilic said, wiping his chin with a hankerchief. “Oh?” I said, pretending to sound surprised there was an angle. “Vell, I’ve been thinking lately about how I am thought of around ze town and ze club. I am not vell liked with ze fans, and I have it on authority zat even ze players and staff think of me with suspicion. I have been thinking that ze reason for ziss is zat I am very rarely seen, and zat I hide away and let other people do my duties. I am thinking zat for my second season I should be more, how you put it? – ‘hands on’. I am thinking it is time people see ze real me, instead of just assuming I am some Southern European thug who lives under ze ground”. I still hadn’t quite worked out where he was going with this, but it seemed innocent enough. I was happy to ride along with it. “So what you’re saying is, in a nutshell, you want to be more of a publicly seen figure around the club?” “Zis is correct”. “Well, Glynn Edwards is your man if you want to some man-marketing. Not me”. “I am not saying you vill be involved. However, I have not yet decided how I vill change my routine. In ze meantime, I thought a dinner with ze manager would be a good first step. Being understood a little better by you vill go a long way to me being better understood by everyone around ze club. Then maybe zat will spread to ze fans”. I took a sip of my wine and looked across at him. He took a sip of his and then decided to carry on talking. “Last season I vink I took ze wrong approach with you. In Serbia you control people with fear – zat is how you run a club. It’s how you run a business. Here, things are different. I see zat now. No matter, last season is gone. As for ze here and now, I feel I trust you more than when I met you. Vot you did with Wheelie deserves credit. You helped me get rid of a rat, and that counted a lot for you. You also have favour with my stepdaughter, and that vord of mouth goes even further. Even now, when you reject the possibility of dating her, she still speaks no ill of you”. Ramsbottom entered suddenly with the desert, a huge silver platter filled with ice cream. He also had two bowls under his arm, two spoons, and a silver pot of cream. Clever man that Ramsbottom. Dilic’s overall food choices weren’t quite as extravagent as the surrounding decor, but it was still better than any spread I could have put on. I could hardly moan. “Cassie is a lovely girl” I commented, passing on the ice cream. “You don’t want any?” my host asked. “I’m just very full from that amazing dinner”. “No problem, and yes Cassie is indeed a jewel amongst girls”. “It was very commendable of you to go and fetch her from that Twin Humps bar that time” I added. “Heaven only knows what she would have done that day if you hadn’t taken her home”. Dilic eyed me carefully and then turned to Ramsbottom, shooing him away again with his hand. “When I vent to fetch her?” he asked slowly. “Yeah, after the shootout. Don’t worry though, she told me about how you didn’t actually instruct those guys to open fire on everyone”. “What exactly did Cassie tell you happened that day?” I figured I might as well start from the beginning. I began to re-tell the story of Twin Humps as once claimed to me by Gav in The Hatters Arms (he having picked it up from a customer), the one where Brute entered Twin Humps on Dilic’s orders and began to shoot dead all the Hajduk Radic players. Then I re-told the account as relayed to me by Cassie. In this version a whole gang of shooters had marched into the pub. As well as shoot all the players they’d also killed Cassie’s Dad in the crossfire. Once I’d finished my story telling, Dilic chewed slowly on a mouthful of ice cream and then returned his glare to me. “You ver lied to, twice”. “I was?” “Yes”. ‘Oh Cassie, now why would you do that?’ Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
WelshWolf Posted January 16, 2010 Share Posted January 16, 2010 Way to put your foot in it. Loving it all. Brilliant. And if you do get sacked, and I doubt you will, then I would love it if you would carry on. The characters are too well developed to be dropped, and it would be a shame to see the end of them. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
FlownCanary Posted January 16, 2010 Share Posted January 16, 2010 I predict a mass walkout of office staff if you do get fired! They'll all follow you to your next club. Yeah! Now, is it time to hear the real story of Twin Humps? Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 17, 2010 Author Share Posted January 17, 2010 Thanks guys Canary, I guess that depends if you believe Dilic or not ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 30/07/09 - Dining with Dilic Part 3 For a moment I thought Dilic might retire us both to the drawing room (assuming he’s got one), so he could tell me the tale with a nice brandy and a good cigar. Disappointingly though, we remained in the dining room. “Lots of different versions of Twin Humps have been spread around over time” my host continued, a sad tone now very evident in his voice. “Most of zem have been twisted to make me out as a monster, a guy who caused a massacre. Not true. Not true”. “What happened then?” Dilic shakily refilled his wine glass and took a moment to compose himself. He suddenly looked as if struggling to hold back a tear. “You already know that ze club captain had set up a little betting group within the team to throw matches for money. Zis very much put ze club into turmoil. I managed to get hold of evidence though to incriminate ze captain and ze other players involved. I was getting ready to use zis evidence, and then....and then Twin Humps happened”. He was definitely shaking now. Droplets of wine were slipping over the sides of his glass every time he raised it to his lips. “In both ze stories you heard, I sent either one man or many men to ze bar to either intimidate or kill ze footballers inside. Ze exact details depend on ze version. In reality however, I was not ze aggressor at all. In reality, I was ze one inside ze bar that day. It was ze captain and his men who came to ze bar to do ze killing”. “So it was all the other way around” I said softly. “Yes. I vos enjoying a lunch with my wife. We had Brute with us for security, and zat’s all we needed. Ze captain and his men had somehow found out of ze evidence I possessed. In their desperation, zey came to ze bar to kill me. When zey got outside ze bar, zey they all took shotguns and handguns out of zer gym bags and prepared for ze hit”. “They did this outside and not inside?” “Yes, and zis was zer big mistake! They knew Brute was in ze bar with me and me and my wife, and Brute’s reputation was fearsome. Zey did not want to risk going into ze bar and taking on Brute. Instead, ze cowards opened fire from outside ze bar, shattering ze windows and sending bullets flying everywhere. My wife took.....”. Dilic paused and reached for the wine bottle, but at the moment of pouring he changed his mind and put the bottle again. “My wife took a shot in ze neck. Her head vent down into her food and she didn’t move again. Brute was shot in ze arm. Everyone in ze bar was jumping around in panic. People were getting hit every two seconds. There weren’t many people ze bar in ze first place, but once ze firing stopped, I looked around from where I was hiding behind ze table and I could only see three people still alive. I was one, another was Brute, and ze other was a teenage girl. She vos crawling past us and she stopped when she reached us”. “What happened next?” I asked, hanging onto every word now. I had an image of Brute whipping out his 45’s at this point and bursting through the front doors like Billy the Kid, scumbags going flying all over the place. My prediction however did not bear fruit. “With his one remaining good arm, Brute had his gun drawn for when ze players came inside to finish ze job, but zis never happened. Instead, ze players threw torches through ze windows. Zey wanted to burn ze bar down from ze inside out, and of course, if we tried to run outside, ve vud be shot. What ze players didn’t know though, or at least did not consider, is zat Twin Humps is an old bar. During ze war years, many of ze old bars in Serbia had short underground tunnels installed in ze cellars. Zis was ze case with Twin Humps”. “A tunnel?” “Yes. Such a tunnel vud usually run vor maybe a hundred yards and zen come out of a hole in ze ground, very useful for times of war, civil or otherwise. Me, Brute, and Cassie, ve all crawled out towards ze stairs leading to ze cellar. As we did so, Cassie took one last look back towards her father, who had been shot through ze window. She thought he had died from ze shot, but just as ze flames took over his body, she saw his eyes and head move. Realising her mistake, she screamed out and tried to go back to him, but Brute grabbed her and forced her down ze tunnel. Quite right. There was no time to go back”. I was speechless by this point, absolutely speechless. “Obviously, we all made it through ze tunnel and escaped. After that, I guess myself and Cassie shared a special kind of connection, even though we had never met before. I never used ze evidence against ze players in ze end. I just vanted to leave Serbia and make a fresh start, and bring those I could trust along for ze ride”. “Understandable, I suppose”. “As vor Cassie, I can only presume she changed her story ven she talked to you because she vanted to vorget ze burning”. “No kidding” I said, finishing my wine and feeling more than little nauseous. Fifteen minutes later we decided to call it a night. Perhaps embarrassed at his show of emotion, Dilic neglected to show me to the door, instead getting Ramsbottom to do it. I was driven home by the same Serbian who had earlier picked me up, and thanks to Ramsbottom I now even knew his name (“Timivic”). He was still as anti-social as before though. “Out” he said, once we reached my flat. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t you give you a tip” I said, sliding over the leather. “Out!” Timivic shouted. A couple of minutes later I was back in the warmth of my living room. I gave Bambi some fuss and made myself a late hot chocolate. Then, feeling wide awake and full of thoughts, I went to pick a film out of my collection to take to bed with me. It had been a long day and an even longer evening. Time for relaxation. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Next - Luton v Wolves (Final friendly) Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 18, 2010 Author Share Posted January 18, 2010 Note - I've made a mistake in previous updates, accidentally referring to Will Buckley as "Will Bradley" (for some unknown reason). I'm now going back and making the appropriate edits. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 01/08/09, Friendly Match 6 Luton Town v Wolverhampton Wanderers GK – Dean Brill DL – Richie Byrne DR – Claude Gnakpa DC – George Pilkington DC – Tony James DMC – Kevin Nicholls MC – Keith Keane ML – Clint Easton MR – Will Buckley FC – Danny Cadamateri FC – Michael Bridges I’m sick of the sight of friendlies by now, and I’m particularly fed up of playing matches again opposition we’ve got no realistic chance of beating. It was all very novel back when we played Birmingham. Since then though I’ve been going through the motions as a manager, my primary goal less intent on getting a result as it is just trying to get everybody through to the first league game uninjured and with the belief they will still at least beat the Blue Square Premier teams. Wolves are a mid-table championship side who have spent nineteen of the past twenty seasons in England’s second tier. It goes without saying that we were up against it from the first whistle. I made two changes from the last match, both of them on the wings. Clint Easton and Will Buckley both impressed in the second half against Bristol City, so I brought them both in to start at the expense of Daniels and Taylor. We lined up with our usual 4.4.2 and so did Wolves. As has become customary in these David against Goliath affairs, the visitors went on the attack first. Less than two minutes had been played before Moses cut inside for Wolves on the left hand side and smashed one just wide. Three minutes after that and we were behind; Jones curled a beautiful free kick over the wall and down inside Brill’s near post. That was Koeman-esque. All the Luton players trudged back to the centre circle with looks on their faces as if say “Here we go again”. In the 6th minute however we almost equalised. The moment came from yet another of Brill’s humps downfield which clear the defence and give one of our strikers (usual Cadamateri, in recent times) a clean run on goal. On this occasion Cadamateri’s shot was struck just a little too close to goalkeeper Hennessey, and the save in some ways was inevitable. Two minutes later a Wolves corner was only cleared as far as Keogh, whose low shot was cleared off the line by Richie Byrne. Personally I thought it was only going to hit the post anyway, not that I bothered to check a replay after the game. The match settled down for some considerable time after that. Our players were huffing and puffing and working hard for each other, where as Wolves had entered that awkward phase for a visiting giant of trying to work out what their end goal was – to completely humiliate the opposition or just knock it around and play some nice football? Whatever the intent, their next attack in the 28th minute brought about the second goal. The impressive Keogh again dribbed his way down the left, and his accurate cross perfectly found the diving head of Bennett just two yards out. Sloppy goal to concede really. I thought we might be in for another mauling after this but Wolves once again went back into their shell. The wide long range shot from Jones in the 35th turned out to be their last attack of the half. By contrast, Bridges gave the home fans some cheer as late as added on stoppage time. The ball was tapped to him thirty yards out and he hit a venomous swirling shot towards goal. It was swerving so much that Hennessey didn’t even try to catch it. He merely parried it defensively and trusted to luck it would fall to a favourable party. It did just that, and defender Collins was able to clear his lines. -------- Half time - Luton 0 Wolves 2 Martin mood'o'meter - Very bored, and very much wishing I'd given this match to Brian for some experience. --------- Perhaps against my better judgment I told the players to just go for it after half time and see what they could get. The instruction backfired in the 46th minute though when Wolves hit us on the counter attack, the dangerous Ebanks-Blake racing between two defenders to go through on goal. The resulting shot was like a missile, but Brill got just enough on it to deflect it narrowly past the post. I could tell from Brill’s post-save reaction that his hand had been severely stung by that one. After 56 minutes Cadamateri went on a little dribble towards the Wolves penalty area. I was intrigued to see what he could do from here, but instead of hammer it towards the goal he elected for a weird floating kind of effort which, at an extremely slow pace, drifted narrowly wide of goal. I actually turned to Brian after the event and asked him what he thought the striker’s intentions had been. Brian just shrugged in return. From the resulting goal kick Ebanks Blake once again used his lightening speed to get clear of our backline. Once again though Brill was equal to him, this time pawing the ball around the far post for yet another corner. That came to nothing so on I got with making all of our usual second half substitutions. I didn’t have any surprises in store for the crowd here. Everybody got replaced by near enough everybody you would expect to replace them with. The only two players to get a full game were Brill and Gnakpa. With 19 minutes to go we suddenly came up with a wonderful piece of flowing football completely out of the blue. At least six players were involved in the build-up, which was pleasing. The ball went from Gil to Niven, out to Daniels, in to Guy, out to Beavon, up the line to Daniels, before he then curled in a cross towards the head of Spencer. The substitute striker leapt brilliantly above his man to power a header at goal. Enter the impressive Hennessey, who produced a world class save in response to tip it over. The formula was almost repeated verbatim as quickly as two minutes later. This time Daniels used strength I didn’t even know he had to win the ball in midfield and again charge down the left wing. In went the cross and again Spencer won the header. This time though it was only just high and wide, and Hennessey didn’t need to do anything. Bizarrely, despite the fact there were still seventeen minutes left on the clock by this stage, Spencer’s brace of headers turned out to be the final notable action of the match. After the game I applauded all twenty of my spent players down the tunnel in a show of unity ahead of the first league game. We’d only lost 7-9 on shots by the end, although I suppose you could argue Wolves eased off once the first two goals went in. I’m glad of the effort expended in keeping the score down though. Things could have gone very badly astray after the Bennett goal. Anyway, so ends the friendly games. The next time I come to my laptop to write a match report, it will be to recount action which actually meant something. FINAL SCORE (Att - 2280) Luton Town 0 Wolves 2 (Jones 5, Bennett 28) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Next - Fearsome removables. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 20, 2010 Author Share Posted January 20, 2010 04/08/09 - TAFS Darren was sat in my seat, and I was stood over his shoulder. He was supposed to be showing me some amazing new website but it was taking an age to load up. “Whilst we’re waiting” he said, glancing up at me. “I saw some men wandering around in the corridor I didn’t recognise earlier. They had overalls on. They looked like removal men, I thought. Know anything about them?” “Yeah, they’re here to take Dilic’s animals away”. “You mean those scary ones he’s supposed to have in his office?” “Yeah. Getting rid of them is all part of his new image apparently. He wants to be seen as a more friendly face about the club. As such, it’s bye bye to the scary exotic pets. I think he’s having them donated to some sanctuary somewhere. Good riddance if you ask me”. “Yeah” Darren agreed. “Hey, it’s loaded now!” “T.A.F.S?” I said, reading from the screen. “It stands for ‘The Amazing Football Scout’. Trust me, it’s ace. I spent ages last night looking at it. It’s going to help you no end in preparing for matches” “Okay, what does it do?” Before he could answer we were distracted by Nicky, who seemed to be on her way to the door. “I’m just going to nip up to the snack machine if that’s okay”. “Yeah that’s fine” I replied. “Does anybody want anything bringing back?” There were no takers for this offer so Nicky wandered off. As she did so, Darren typed in his name and password on T.A.F.S. “Right then” he continued. “What this website does is collect recent footage from all the football matches across England, even the ones in the non-league. Then it makes that footage available for its members to view anytime they want. You can search for footage by club or name, depending on whether you want to scout a club or a player”. “You could have told me this at the start of the summer when I was actually in the market”. “I only found it last week! Cut me some slack. Besides, you'll still find it useful for team scouting throughout the season”. “James” Brenda interrupted all the way over from her desk. “Sorry to butt in but can I speak to you after you’re done with Darren?” “Yeah okay” I said. “I need to speak to you too” Caroline added. “Jesus!” I exclaimed. “Any chance I’m going to get any of my own work done today?” Nobody answered so I looked back down at my monitor. I could now see a list on the screen of all twenty premiership clubs. “Carry on, Darren”. “Okay, I’m going to give you an example” Darren said. “This is a list of all twenty clubs in the Premier League. I’ve run a quick search by division. Now then, by clicking on any of these clubs, I can see all their recent goals and strategical plays of note”. “How come Portsmouth is greyed out?” “What? Oh. That’s because TAFS probably hasn’t got around to securing the rights to show footage from that club. All the other premier league clubs are on it though. Look, I’ll show you some Arsenal goals”. “Never mind Arsenal. Get our division up on the screen. We’re playing Woking this weekend, not Arsenal”. “Sure, no problem”. Without further delay Darren used the back button to return to the previous menu, and from there he clicked into the Blue Square Premier sub-menu. “Hang about" I said, after fixing my eyes on the new menu for a moment or two. "On this one all the teams are greyed out! - Everyone except York and Eastbourne!” “Errrr yeah, well, errrr, you have to understand that the site is still a work in progress. Not all the teams are on there yet, especially the ones from lower down the pyramid”. “Not all of them? There’s only two from our league! Eastbourne aren’t even in the Blue Square Premier anymore. Darren, this is last season’s list of teams!” “Well like I said, TAFS isn’t fully 100% operational yet but....”. “No bloody kidding!” I added, gesturing for Darren to get off my chair and go back to his own desk. “I think this just about ranks as the most useless ten minutes work time ever spent. Thanks for the tip, though. When we play York this season, or if we play Eastbourne in the Trophy, I’ll be sure to log in and get the lowdown on them thanks to the magic of TAFS”. “Okay, sorry!” Darren said sarcastically, walking back to his desk. Suddenly Nicky burst through the door in rather a hurry. She was struggling for breath. “What’s up?” Brenda asked, rising to her feet. “Outside – on the stairs – behind the glass – horrible”. “Nicky, slow down” Caroline said, as the rest of us looked on. I suspected though I already knew what had happened. “There are two men carrying a tank full of piranha fish down the stairs!” she eventually exploded, her lungs having returned to normality. “Yeah those belong to the chairman” Darren told her with a smile. “Don’t worry though, he’s getting rid of them”. “What the hell was he doing with them in the first place?! Those things can kill people!” “Only if you stick your head in the tank, Nicky” I remarked. “Come on, think about it. You’re hardly in any danger”. “Oh really?” she replied. “And what if the glass breaks? Did you think of that?” “Then... they’ll all suffocate to death on the floor, obviously” Caroline said slowly. Darren doubled up at his desk in laughter. Brenda chuckled too. “Oh whatever” Nicky said, heading back to the door. She had evidently not made it to the snack machine before hightailing it back to the office. “Nicky” I called after her. “He also had a tank with a scorpion in it last time I was in his office, so don’t freak out if you see that one being carried out too”. “Yeah yeah, very funny” she replied, walking out hastily. “She didn’t believe you!” Darren exclaimed. “That’s hilarious. Haha”. “Back to work, Darren” I said firmly. “Okay Brenda, you’re next. What is it I can do for you?” “It’s the photocopier” she said, getting out of her seat to show me. “It’s not working”. I got up and joined her to take a look. I wasn’t able to help though. I’m no I.T expert. “God knows what’s wrong with it” I stated, inspecting it for all of a second. “I’ll get on the phone to someone. In fact, can you do it for me? Just look in Yellow Pages or something and get someone down here”. “Sure, can do”. “Now I know how we could fill one of the spare desks, with an I.T expert”. “Yeah not a bad idea”. A distant scream suddenly sounded out from somewhere else in the building. It sounded like Nicky. “That’ll be the scorpion she’s seen then” I said to everyone. It took Darren a whole three minutes to stop laughing. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 21, 2010 Author Share Posted January 21, 2010 04/08/09 - Graduate abuse To took a whole ten minutes to calm Nicky down once she returned from her latest shock. Consequently, Caroline had to wait a while before getting that private word with me. I’ve learnt something about Nicky today; she gets angry when faced with what she perceives as danger. That wouldn’t be such a notable revelation if it wasn’t the fact she’s normally so happy-go-lucky. I’ve seen her upset before (as witnessed in the Kevin Watson situation long ago), but never angry in the traditional definition. Life is full of firsts. “Okay Caroline, what can I do you for?” “Can we talk outside? It’s kind of private”. “Sure thing”. Under the watchful eyes from Nicky, Brenda, and Darren, myself and Caroline vacated the room. “It’s about pay” Caroline said bluntly, once the door was closed behind us. “Go on”. “Don’t get me wrong - I’m really grateful for the new full time job and everything, really I am. I’m getting a lot less money than Alison did though when she was doing the same job, and she didn’t even have the archiving to do on top of her normal duties!” “Hang on, let’s backtrack a moment here. How do you know what Alison was earning? I hope Nicky didn’t tell you because she could get into big trouble for sharing information like that”. “No, it was Alison herself who told me. We were having a conversation last year and she was telling me the benefits of being full time”. “Alison shouldn’t have told you either. It’s a strict no-no in any organisation for employees to share with each other the details of what they’re earning". “Yeah, well anyway, if the difference was tiny I probably wouldn’t mention it. The thing is though, my salary is £5000 less than what Alison said hers was. That’s a lot of money”. Before I could respond to this, the two removal guys I’d seen earlier suddenly squeezed past us. They were carrying a large glass cage with what looked like a fifteen foot python snake curled up inside it. “Wow, nice snake!” Caroline exclaimed. “Jesus” I said, slightly more taken aback. “He must have been saving that little scare for a rainy day”. “What?” “Nothing. Listen, I can believe it that Alison was earning a lot more than you are, but you’ve got to remember that she’s a lot older than you. This is your first place of full time employment. Alison’s C.V, even if it was secretly bogus, had about ten years experience on it from all sorts of places. I’m willing to bet that if you’re still here by the time you’re her age, you’ll be earning more than she was when she was here”. “I suppose”. “You’ve also got to remember this club has dropped down a division. Everybody’s been taking a pay cuts on the playing staff, so it wouldn’t surprise me if all the other roles have been taking cuts too”. “I know, it’s just frustrating, and it doesn’t help than Brenda’s been splashing her cash around recently. Under your theorem of salary accumulation, I bet at her age she’s on loads”. I crossed my arms and sighed. I sympathised with her but there wasn’t really much I could do. I’d been on peanuts myself when I joined my first law firm at twenty two. They screw you if you’ve got no experience, degree or no degree. “What’s this about Brenda?” I asked, changing tact. “Come on, you haven’t heard? First she’s got a new house with her son, and now she’s got a new car. I didn’t even know she had a license”. “I heard she’d got a house. I think she’s mortgaged one; I don’t think she bought it outright. I didn’t know she’d got a car as well though”. “Yeah well like I said I bet she earns loads”. Personally I wasn’t so sure. Last season Brenda had moaned about being broke and having no money to even treat Rory to a Luton game. They’d also been living in a flat together, practically in poverty. Now though Brenda had a new house according to Bob, and Caroline reckoned she had a new car too. What was going on there? Caroline went back inside the office as I mulled this over, and I wasn’t long in following suit. True to the form of my entire day up to this point, I didn’t make it back to my desk before being harassed by someone else. “James” Nicky said, looking something close to her normal self again. “Keith was on the phone whilst you were outside. He wants to know if he’s errrr going to be in the starting team for Saturday’s match”. “Nicky, you can kindly tell Keith that the next time he goes through you to enquire about team matters, he’ll be on the bench for a month. Saturday’s team will be announced on Friday evening just as it is for any other home game”. I returned to my desk and sat down. Later on in the afternoon it was time for my pre-season press conference. I hadn’t had one of these in ages, so I had half a hope my main media enemies might have ‘done a Dilic’ over the summer and had a change of heart about me. Alas, that just wasn’t the case. I was shot down in the very first question. Enter Andy Branston.. “James, how does it feel to be the first manager in Luton history to go twelve friendly matches without a single victory?” Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 21, 2010 Author Share Posted January 21, 2010 08/08/09 - Judgment Day Fear flooded through me when I woke up this morning. Last season I spent a lot of my spare time fretting about how many days and weeks away I might be from getting the sack. Then the end of that dismal season finally arrived and I was still in a job. I realised then I had succeeded in ‘winning’ myself a shot at getting Luton back up the following year. At the time (early May) I had three months to go before the next league game. I had a quarter of a year to relax and get my blood pressure back down. I felt like a kid who had just broken up for the summer holidays. That grace period is officially over now though. Today it was back into the frying fan to face the music, to step up to the line and see if I could take my latest chance to prove myself in this crazy unforgiving profession. I could have done with having a woman next to me this morning, to be honest. Instead I had to make do with Bambi. It’s embarrassing to say so but I confided my fears to her for ten minutes and then got out of bed for my shower. When I got out of my car at the ground, Cyril and Lee were both stood at the door to their port-a-cabin. I waved in their direction and they both waved back. There was no sign of Albie. I bumped into several more familiar faces inside the main building before the game – Darren, Fred, Bob, Katrina, Dragomir, to name but a few. When their turn came they all shook my hand and wished me good luck. Fred even shook my hand twice; he claimed the second one was from his wife back home. At 2.40pm I shut myself and the players in the changing room and prepared for action. As everybody got changed into our familiar white home kit, I paced up and down giving out a few random tactical comments to people I thought needed it. They all knew the drills and what was expected of them though. We'd gone through it all the previous evening. As I saw to all this, Brian stood leaning against the wall fidgeting with his fingernails. He looked almost as nervous as me but not quite. “You know what? I have a dream!” I said, once everybody was ready and looking in my direction. “I have a dream that one day Luton Town will again play top flight football before I die. I have a dream that one day, all you fine players sitting before me will be immortalised as the group who got this great club back on the right track again. I have a dream that kids in the twenty second century will study tatty black and white photographs of us lot and say “Look, that there is Michael Bridges – he scored fifty goals during our only season down in the non-league. Oh and look, that’s Dean Brill – he broke the record for numbers of clean sheet in a league season during the same year. And hey, that’s Keith Keane – my great grandad reckons he was known as one of the club’s great midfield enforcers of the past century. He had a right bird too apparently”. Some of the players chuckled. During the breather I took note of the fact only half the team were wearing the coloured boots they’d picked up in the summer. Obviously some of them feared the prospect of looking slightly stupid now the real stuff had arrived and the Live Bunny cameras would be on them. “I don’t want to be too dramatic about today” I continued. “But remember, what we do in life is echoed in eternity. You’ve all got the chance today to go out there and begin a season long quest to become gods of the town! You’ve got a chance to be heroes! I want fight, I want adrenalin, I want snapping and growling all over the park! Most of all, I want a f__king win! Now get out there and do it!” The players all roared their approval and got off their bums. Then, led by myself and skipper Kevin Nicholls, we all walked in single file out into the tunnel area. The Woking players were out here, all lined up against the far wall of the tunnel carrying footballs. There was no contact though between either set of players. Both teams faced forwards and focused solely on their own individual stretches and jumps, the ‘This in Kenilworth Road’ sign glowing ominously above their heads. As was normal at this moment, I could hear the crowd muttering away outside. Also, as the officials for the match walked past the players towards the front, I could hear Glynn’s New Luton song blaring away from all the speakers dotted around the stadium. ‘But maybe, you ain’t never gonna feeeeeeel this way. You ain’t never gonna know me. But I know youuuu.... “Here we go” I said to Brian. “Yep, indeedy, indeedy”. The two lines walked out to raucous cheers from all around the ground. Evidently the fans were in good spirits, despite where we found ourselves this afternoon. ‘Things...can only get betterrrrr! Can only get...can only get! Things!......”. As our players began walking along the line of the opposition, shaking each and every hand in the name of fair play, Brian and I branched off towards the dugout area. I waved at the crowd and took my seat under the curved glass sheet. On the far side of the ground, the Woking fans were trying to make themselves heard over the din and not making a good job of it. “Come on Luton!” some bloke behind me shouted louder than anybody else. I think he spoke for most of us. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
FlownCanary Posted January 21, 2010 Share Posted January 21, 2010 I echo that statement, Come on Luton! Here's a new season of superiority over the Blue Square Premier Bumpkins! Good luck! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted January 22, 2010 Author Share Posted January 22, 2010 Well Canary, the waiting is over. Read on to surely see New Luton whip Woking four or five nil... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 08/08/09, League Match 1 Luton Town v Woking GK – Dean Brill DL – Richie Byrne DR – Claude Gnakpa DC – Tony James DC – George Pilkington DMC – Kevin Nicholls MC – Keith Keane ML – Charlie Daniels MR – Michael Taylor FC – Michael Bridges FC – Danny Cadamateri This was to be my starting line-up for the first match, and during the final days leading up to D-day, I chopped and changed my mind several times in relation to several key areas. The defence mostly picked itself, except for in the centre where I laboured in deciding on James over McCracken. Midfield was even tougher, with not one of the four ‘spots’ nailed on for anybody. As far as central midfield was concerned, I decided to give old stalwarts Nicholls and Keane first crack of the whip. Keane was poor in pre-season though, and was definitely playing on notice. I wanted Nicholls there because he contributes goals. Daniels and Taylor on the wings both have strong competition from Easton and Buckley, so they too would have to grab today’s opportunity with both hands. Daniels showed flashes of great skill in the warm up games but Taylor was largely anonymous. Up front I was always intent on going for Bridges and Cadamateri together. On the bench I made the bold decision not to pick a reserve goalkeeper, instead opting for the following – Easton, Beavon, Gill, Buckley, and Spencer. Woking aren’t considered to be one of the division’s leading lights. They only finished 18th last season and not much more is expected of them this time around. They lined up with 4.4.2 today and would be playing in red. As is already obvious, we were also playing 4.4.2. I didn’t want to say it out loud but I fully expected our boys to have too much for the visitors. Touch wood anyway. In the 5th minute of the game Woking full back Lorraine threw the ball diagonally infield. James however got above his man to head the ball back the way it had come. It came down towards the edge of the opposition penalty area and Cadamateri now got his head on the ball, nodding it sideways in the direction of the penalty spot. There were two defenders in and around Bridges but he managed to swing a powerful left boot at the ball and volley it towards goal. The ball flew past the keeper like a rocket and almost burst the net. 1-0. The celebrations around the ground were like nothing I’d seen before. Bridges was mobbed by his teammates and I was mobbed by the dugout staff, as high fives suddenly became the order of the day everywhere you looked. I was almost worried some of our players might get booked for holding up the restart! In any event, we did get started again, and once again the man with the girly surname (Lorraine) ended up with the ball. Woking began to pass it around their backline and everybody who had been celebrating finally came back to earth. Whether it was a good or bad thing I didn’t know, but the game died a death after that. The visitors seemed happy to contain us, where as our boys just couldn’t seem to get the ball under control. Time drifted forwards with the game seemingly stuck in a major lull; it was almost as if we were secretly playing a seventh friendly and no-one had told me. We were soon shaken out of the doldrums though, because with the second major chance in the game, which arrived on the half hour mark, Woking equalised. It was a simple goal. Brill kicked it out towards the halfway line; somebody headed it back in the direction it had come from, and striker Domoraud capitalised on a Pilkington slip. He went through on goal with James and Pilkington furiously trying to hunt him down. Domoraud went slightly wide and Brill came out to narrow the angle. It was all in vain though because the Woking man placed a lovely left foot shot across Brill and into the far corner. 1-1. We were struggling here. The whole team looked alien to each other. Bridges looked like a man who was determined not to do anything else until someone else contributed something first. Cadamateri, so dangerous on the break in the away games against Northwich and Kettering, looked to be struggling in this reverse situation where we had to be the aggressors. Wingers Daniels and Taylor were doing nothing, and Keane was having his usual poor game. The half time whistle was almost a relief to hear. ------ Half time – Luton 1 Woking 1 Martin Mood ‘o’ meter – perplexed. ------ In the dressing room I asked the players what was going on, and whether they thought they could just stroll around and expect the result to automatically happen. In response they mostly sat in silence with drooped heads facing the floor. They didn’t all get animated and start the “Come on guys!” stuff. I think they knew that to do that would pee me off. They’d done all that before the match and the effect had been limited to say the latest. The best they could do now was shut up and only talk when back on the pitch. Our start to the second half though was marred by an unwanted injury, Danny Cadamateri pulling up in agony after a challenge from Hutchinson and having to come off. In his place I sent on Spencer. I actually wasn’t too bothered at having to do this; Cadamateri’s contribution in the first half had been negligible at best. Either way, Woking came out in the second half fully intent on defending what they’d earned, and they made a good job of it too. Minute after minute ticked by and we just couldn’t crack the walnut. The visitors plonked ten men behind the ball and repeatedly deployed time wasting tactics. I couldn’t tell who the crowd was more annoyed at, Woking for being boring or us for not being able to break them down. We could hardly moan though – we’d had the lead only to throw it away. In the 62nd minute I had to replace Byrne with Beavon, this one due to a head cut. It took until the 70th minute before the next moment of action happened, and it just shows how desperate we were going forward today that it had to come from one of our central defenders. A penalty box scramble was only half cleared and there was Tony James in an advanced position. He took one touch to get the ball on his favoured foot and then struck it gamely. The ball took the slightest of deflections and the keeper only just managed to flap an arm at it to tip it over the bar. The resulting corner came to nothing. After 81 minutes, Taylor played a one-two with Bridges just outide the Woking penalty area. He couldn’t advance on the keeper from here because two defenders were closing in on him, so instead he tried to lob the Woking number one from a slight angle. The shot wasn’t bad but it drifted just over the roof of the net. Sixty seconds after this I substituted Taylor for Buckley. This was my last throw of the dice. We didn’t really look like scoring though. The final ten minutes faded out all too quickly, and despite desperate baying from the crowd we just couldn’t catch a break from the multiple crosses and passes we slung into the box late on. We even came close to giving the game away entirely. Deep into stoppage time a long ball cleared our backline and Domoraud found himself in a race with Brill to the ball. They both reached it at exactly the same instance, resulting in a panicky moment where I wondered who would get control of it. Luckily neither of them did. Both hit the deck as the result of the tackle and Pilkington managed to get back to clear the danger. There were no boos at the final whistle, surprisingly. It was as if the crowd had simply seen it all before and had no energy to boo. They all trudged off to wherever it is they go, and I was left to ponder a very disappointing performance. After all the summer shopping and all the hype, to say this was an anti-climax would quite possibly be the world's most obvious understatement. I'll tell you something though - the first thing I did in the dressing room was throw a bin liner into the middle of the room and order everyone to chuck their fancy coloured boots into it. That made me feel better. FINAL SCORE (Att - 4479) Luton Town 1 (Bridges 5) Woking 1 (Domoraud 30) -------- (other results) Cambridge 2-0 Burton Crawley 1-3 Rushden Ebbsfleet 2-1 Oxford Grays 2-0 Tamworth Kidderminster 3-1 Kettering Macclesfield 1-1 Droylsden Mansfield 1-1 Weymouth Northwich 2-2 AFC Wimbledon Salisbury 2-1 Forest Green Stevenage 1-1 Histon York 2-0 St Albans Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
mametz1536 Posted January 22, 2010 Share Posted January 22, 2010 What can i say but brilliant, brilliant story. Excellent reading. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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