Duncan Ferguson Ate My Doctor Who Scarf

[foozle]

Hi Folks,

Right this is my first serious to commit to the page one of the many stories I end up day-dreaming up whilst in work, on the train etc about my ongoing FM games. I've got one on the go currently with Derby on FM10 and I had intended to base the story around that however, five seasons in and nothing down on page - so that's gone.

Anyway - this is hopefully going to be one that I can stay on top of and go with. Here's the vital statisitcs:

Leagues loaded (top division unless otherwise stated):

England - Premier League and Championship

Belgium

France

Holland

Germany

Portugal

Scotland

Spain

Italy - Serie A and Serie B

Argentina

Brazil

Russia

USA

Large database. I hope you all enjoy it, any constructive feedback is greatly welcomed!

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Introduction

Truth be told, I was always well aware of how good I was.

I was never one to try and ‘big-up’ my own ability or blow my own trumpet but you look around sometimes at your team-mates, your opponents and you read the articles in the papers and you’d have to be pretty dense to not realise that you’re in possession of a special talent.

I think the reason I never made anything of it is partly down to the fact that I’d achieved my primary career goal by the time I was nine years old. I know, it’s crazy – nine years old and already I can look back at my short life and think job done.

The thing is though, I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t want to play for Everton Football Club. So naturally, getting signed up to their under 10’s team was pretty much the culmination of I’d say roughly oh, my young life’s ambition. I was too young to notice but my dad tells stories about coming to watch me in junior matches and training and watching the opposition parents and coaches shaking their heads in amazement at some of the things I’d do or attempt with a ball. After one particular game, I’m informed I’d managed to score 6 goals in an 8-0 win and had laid on the other two when my dad and I were approached by representatives of Manchester United.

“Hello son, I’m Mike Duncalf I work for Manchester United. How would you like to come and play for United?” My dad was looking at Duncalf with a mingled expression of amusement and pity at this point; he already knew where this was going to go.

Clearly this Duncalf chap was a decent enough bloke, he’d spoken with my dad at some length before approaching me behind one of the goals with his offer to ply my trade for the team that was to go on to dominate the English game for the next twenty or so years.

I gave his offer all the time a nine year old needs to consider such weighty matters of life, some 3 seconds, before responding.

“If I can’t play for Everton then I want to be Doctor Who.”

I doubt if Mr Duncalf has ever received an odder rebuff in his recruiting days than that delivered by a budding William Ralph Dean or failing that, Time Lord.

After that day really I never looked back and my only regret was that by the age of 11 I’d accepted that it was unlikely that I’d ever get to travel through time and space fighting Daleks. Still, whereas The Doctor had to fight Daleks, Cybermen and other heinous alien threats – I myself was finding myself thrust into battle; namely, the battle to make it as a professional footballer.

Scoring records at youth level fell to me with a seeming reckless abandon. I made my debut for the reserve team at 14 and was expected to struggle a bit against the older lads and the pros that were out of favour with their first teams but I flourished. If anything the imposing and potentially difficult opposition only served to galvanise my determination to succeed at Everton.

By the end of the 1993/94 season I was training occasionally with the first team squad at the tender age of 15 and held my own well enough to receive the club’s young player of the year award despite not appearing in a competitive match for the first team.

I never featured for Mike Walker the ththen manager of the club though I’m grateful that he gave me the chance to train with the first team and I did make some appearances in the pre-season friendly fixtures. However, Everton were in dire straits by the start of the 1994/95 season and by November Mike Walker was gone – replaced by club legend Joe Royle.

Joe was impressed by me and later that month aged just 16 I took Joe’s record as being the youngest player ever to feature for Everton when I made my debut – coming off the bench at home against Leeds United with the side 2-0 up. Ten minutes later I’d broken another record in becoming the youngest player ever to score for The Toffees. I’d go on to collect an F.A. Cup winners medal that year, coming off the bench for the final 25 minutes.

That was to be the only trophy I would win as a player and it came in my first season. Who’d have thought?

I made my international debut that season as well, rejecting England my birth nation and Italy, my mother’s nation to play for my father’s country – Scotland in a friendly match against Austria. I was lucky enough to play in a World Cup and a European Championship for my country however, international success would elude me as much as club success would.

Over the next 12 seasons I scored regularly for Everton and Scotland and became the darling of the famous Gwladys Street end at Goodison Park, my scoring record was exceptional in a team that often struggled for success and glory. I wore the fabled number 9 shirt with pride and never contemplated leaving my beloved Everton.

On a personal level, I was probably as far removed from the public image of a footballer as you can get. Put bluntly, I was a geek. I’d be torn to shreds in the dressing room for reading comics, science-fiction and fantasy books. My music taste was eclectic and alien in a dressing room obsessed with hip-hop and chart music – Nirvana, The Ramones, Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin being some of the cds thrown back at me by Neville Southall, legendary goalkeeper and overlord of the stereo!

Whilst most popular players were being offered modelling and advertising deals I wasn’t interested – my passion came from writing regular articles for newspapers and Doctor Who magazine and the NME. Walter Smith once described me as “the most unlikely footballer ever. All the ability you could ask for, he’s got every marketing and ad-agency in the world knocking at his door desperate to represent him and what’s he got? A literary agent, he wants to be a serious writer. Lad’s insane – we love him.”

After Walter left, David Moyes replaced him and he was the last manager I’d work for. We had some success – good league finishes as opposed to trophies but after the years of seeming apathy and standing still, here was a manager with the invention and drive to take us forward.

7th, 17th, 4th, 11th and 6th place finishes in the five seasons I played for David. There were back to back 5th place finishes and a cruel cup final defeat against Chelsea in the two seasons that were to follow. However, I wasn’t playing for Everton by that point. I wasn’t playing for anyone.

In an ill-tempered Merseyside derby against Liverpool my career as a player came to an abrupt end. I’d been on fire all day, netting two and generally giving Steven Gerrard and co the run-around. I’m still not sure how and why it actually happened. All I remember is receiving the ball and turning to move at goal in the centre circle. Next thing I know I’m smashed in the right knee by something that feels like a van.

I see Gerrard standing over me staring down whilst the ref brandishes a red card at him, Leon Osman can’t look at me.

Phil Neville is being held back from attacking Gerrard.

Marouane Fellaini is next to me talking to me and I can’t hear a word – there’s no sound, just a dull buzzing sound like radio static. I’m dimly aware there’s blood and Mick Rathbone the physio looks horrified.

Then, like a bolt from the blue I understand it perfectly. My career is over; I won’t be back from this. I’ve never been injured seriously before but I know this to be truth. I’ll never score at the Gwladys Street again. Never run the length of the Goodison pitch celebrating a winner against Liverpool again. Never win another trophy with Everton. Never again will I sit in that dressing room at the end of a match singing our songs and celebrating victory.

For me the race is run – my name is Roberto Angus Wayne and at 28 years old, my career is over.

[Saxonaitor]

Great start, I'll be following with interest

[TerrierBhoy7]

Awwww poor lad!

[mametz1536]

As an Everton supporter i'm hoping you can do well - Great start - go for it.

[foozle]

Chapter One – New Beginnings

“Get into him, GET INTO HIM SEAMUS FOR F**KS SAKE!! Don’t let him get past you down there lad, get into him quick – come on,” I bellowed at Seamus Coleman as he let Jose Baxter get past him down the right.

The ball in the arms of the goalkeeper and play resuming I watched Coleman closely; I had high hopes for the lad and had told David Moyes to keep a close eye on him. He was on the fringes of the first team but he still had to work on his game.

Baxter received the ball again and ran at Coleman looking to gain another advantage over the young full-back; this time as Baxter looked to shift the ball on and leave Coleman for dead, Coleman slid in with a well-timed tackle to disposses the attacker.

“Well done lad, well done – great tackle Kid,” I said clapping at the tackle. “Unlucky Jose, good effort. Head up and play, keep your head up you’re doing well.”

I was overseeing a match between a mixture of the Everton reserve side and the under 18’s. A couple of the younger first team lads were involved to boost the numbers along with a smattering of kids from the academy. It had been a great game with a lot of technical ability on show, along with the usual dose of British grit and guile.

They’d had an hour now though and that was probably enough, time to let them go for the warm down and then head back in to get changed and do whatever it is that these kids do these days. I’m 30 now so I feel like I can call them kids, for all that I feel like I should be one of them still. Still playing, not getting that phantom ache in the knee.

“Ok lads, that’ll do for today, fall in, fall in.” The players gathered round me looking tired but most of them grinning. First day of pre-season training after a good summer, they should be grinning. This is the best time of the year. Sun shining, pitches in pristine condition and reunited with their friendly coach Roberto, or Rob as I prefer – only my mum calls me Roberto and it’s usually when she disapproves of something. Like the earrings or the tattoo.

“Right gents that was good, I like what I saw out there and I’m pleased to see no-one’s come back after the summer having lived on Big Macs and ale,” this prompted laughter and a few guilty looks, I’m sure a few of these lads have had their share of ale and the odd burger but you can’t have everything.

“Thing is though boyos, got to keep it up. You know the score here –the Gaffer’s not got the biggest squad in the world and we’re in Europe again – there’s a chance here for some of you if you want it bad enough but you’ve got to work for it.

I’m pleased to be able to go and tell him that he’s got a decent crop of lads coming through here so we can probably get by without Messi and Ronaldo for now. However, if you don’t work hard enough and you don’t want it bad enough he’ll have no option but to go and spend the hundreds of millions to bring those two lads in so it’s up to you.”

The banter’s always fierce here, I’m still one of them deep down – coaching badges and a place on the back-room staff will probably never change that. When you get right down to it, I’m still that nine year old kid who just wants to be at Everton.

I looked up and spotted Kevin Sheedy approaching me and broke from my reverie to address the assembled players again.

“Ok, Sheeds’ll do the warm-down with you – again well done for today and let’s have the same tomorrow, go on." I let them go as Kevin approached me.

“Rob, gaffer wants to see you in his office right away."

“Did he say why?” I asked slightly puzzled, I had a meeting with the boss but not for another hour.

“Didn’t say anything to me Mate – probably just wants to know how the lads got on, think we’re short for the America tour on the first team so he’ll want to take some of the kids."

I nodded my understanding and departed having exchanged a few more pleasantries with Kevin. I didn’t want to keep the Gaffer waiting. I’ve seen that icy state of his unleashed on a few unfortunate individuals and even now I’m retired I have no desire to be on the receiving end.

[foozle]

Thanks for the comments guys, I'm quite excited about this one!

[foozle]

I can see the me from my childhood sat there now, legs swinging as I wait outside the manager’s office – I remember sitting here with my dad waiting to see Howard Kendall. Howard had the sad job of having to tell some of the kids who weren’t going to be kept on that for them, at this moment in time, their Everton dreams were over.

He had other ideas for me, wanted to reassure my old man that his lad would be ok, they wanted to fast-track me, jump me up a couple of age groups to see how I got on. I’d torn the under 10s up, they wanted to know if I could hack the under 13s.

I seem to remember doing ok.

I’m sat outside the manager’s office again, different manager, different training ground. We moved from Bellefield , our old training ground a couple of years ago to the new state of the art training facilities here in Finch Farm. David Moyes helped dream up this place and now we try to make the players of tomorrow fulfil their dreams of playing professional football.

So many memories, some happy, some not so but all of them linked to Everton Football Club. I’m the literal one club man.

Player, coach and who knows, maybe one day I’ll get to manage this famous old club that I love so much.

“Rob? David will see you now,” Eileen the manager’s secretary was gazing at me with a slight smile.

“Sorry, I was miles away there,” I said with an embarrassed laugh, “just wandering down memory lane again. How are you Eileen, your John ok?” Eileen’s been at the club for over twenty years. So have I, she’s seen me sat outside this office waiting to see five different managers in the time I’ve been here. She’s part of the fittings, a bit like me.

“Oh aye we’re both grand – can’t wait to get going this season. It was so sad losing the Cup Final last May but we’re both excited for a new year. How about you Son, putting those lads through their paces are you?” she replied with enthusiasm. Eileen’s an Evertonian, ergo as far as I’m concerned – she’s part of a special family.

“Eileen, I won’t lie to you – I’m being vicious with them. Right now I’ve got Sheeds making them run around the place with backpacks full of rocks and after I’ve seen the manager I’m going to go down and let them know it’s cross country time. Seriously training’s not fun with me – it’s hell.”

“Oh shut up you, I’ve seen you do training – you’re soft as they come. They all bloody love it, you haven’t got it in you to be harsh to them,” she was laughing now and like all great laughs this one was infectious.

“Aye true enough,” I replied laughing, “Still, it seems to be working for me so until I’m told otherwise I’ll stick with the nurturing as opposed to the murdering. Anyway, best not keep him waiting any longer – I’ll see you”, I said knocking at the manager’s door.

“Come in,” called David Moyes and I entered, amused at myself for the slight feeling of trepidation I still felt even now.

David Moyes is an imposing man but also utterly brilliant with a hunger to succeed and the ability to make it happen. As influences go, he’s a massive one for me and I’m grateful for the way he looked after me after the injury. He’s also in possession of the most terrifying eyes in world football. I’m serious, there’s warmth there at times, mostly when we’ve won but if he’s not happy – his eyes let you know that first.

“Ahhh, young Rob. Take a seat lad. Good, right first things first – how the kids looking?”

I gave a brief update on the progress of the kids highlighting who I felt could make the step up and who might benefit from a loan move. I handed over dossiers on Coleman and Baxter.

“We’ve got a good group Boss, I’m made up to be honest as I think we’re setting ourselves up well for the future here. In particular I’m happy with Seamus Coleman and Jose Baxter. Coleman’s a great little full-back, cracking engine, good going forward, solid at the back so I’m happy there. Baxter’s got bags of skill, an eye for a goal and he’s good going wide of through the middle.

Basically – you could include them with confidence this season or loan them out and have them next season with the bonus of a year’s play under their belts. Either way, you’ve got a couple of good prospects.” I share the opinion of the majority of fans here – there’s nothing better than seeing one of your own come through the ranks and make it.

I think that’s why I was popular, local lad done good and all that.

“Good work Rob – thanks I’ll keep them in mind but loans will probably be the best way forward for them. We’re covered in their main spots but I want them to play.

Now, I’ve had a couple of calls this week. About you.”

This was an unexpected development – who could be calling about me?

“Oh aye, who from?

“Well one was from the Scottish Football Association – they want to know if you’d be interested in applying for the manager’s job.”

“I thought Craig Levein was a nailed on certainty for it,” I said with some surprise. Certainly all the reports I’d read and whispers on the grapevine seemed to indicate that the Dundee United man would soon be leading mine and David’s national team.

“I think he is,” replied David “I think they want to see you associated with it as you’re young and seen as a fairly unorthodox appointment to show they’re thinking outside the box. Plus you’re Scottish. If you want me opinion…it’s the second call I’ve had today that’s for you.”

“Who was that from, Real Madrid finally decided to make a play for me?”

“Not quite, SC Heerenveen in Holland have been impressed with Steve McLaren atFC Twente. Turns out they want a British coach. You, specifically.”

I sat there – speechless with my mind racing faster than Usain Bolt.

[tenthreeleader]

Glad to have you here ... welcome!

One piece of advice for you ... slow down your posting. You write larger posts, and you write well. Let us absorb them and even though you're excited, build up that reserve.

If you're looking for an example of how to do a story from a few seasons into a save, check out the beginning of JamboJen's thread. She did a wonderful job of it.

Again, welcome and nice start. Also, your title is wonderful.

[foozle]

Thanks for the feedback Tenthree, to be honest I was toying with the idea of breaking the posts in half and posting two a day over the next three days but I got a bit excited and went for it.

I've got a few bits in reserve now so it's all good, going to break it down a bit.

Anyway less from you, go and sort out the other Rob and his missus!

[foozle]

I didn’t know what to say.

At the back of my mind I’d always thought I’d end up managing Everton one day, it just seemed natural. However, this was something new entirely, new club mainly for the one club man but also a new country and a whole new league.

I regret nothing of the career I chose for myself – even if rejecting Duncalf’s overtures to join United meant I potentially missed out on League titles and European glory. That F.A. Cup winner’s medal I’ve got stands as a poignant reminder that I fulfilled an ambition I’d held since a young age.

However, David Moyes is a legend at this club. A legend with four more years on his contract and I was being offered the headlining slot in Holland. Maybe I should chance it, go and see if I was up to it.

“I’m going to tell you what I think Rob and you need to think on this carefully before making any decisions. I’m not planning on leaving Everton any time soon but things can change in the blink of an eye. On the day I do leave, I imagine it’ll be the shortest conversation in the world when they end up offering you the job.

You need to manage first though. I’ve seen you coach and you can do it but if you come in here first with no experience I think you’ll get burnt and it’ll break you up if you don’t succeed.

Go speak to Heerenveen, see what they’ve got to say. They’re a good side, in Europe – hell we might end up drawing each other! You can do well there, I’m sure of it. If it ends up not being for you then I’ll be over the moon to keep you but this is your shot my friend.”

He’s right of course and this is really what I’m hungry for. Coaching is good but it’s not quite right. Nothing’s going to beat playing I fully accept that but maybe managing might be the next best thing.

“Ok Boss, I’ll speak to them – see what they’ve got to say. Have they left a contact number or anything?”

Moyes grinned at me then, probably thinking this would be the last time I’d be calling him Boss.

“No need, they’re over at Goodison now armed with a contract I think, I’ve already cleared it with the Chairman. If you’re happy let us know and sign with them today.”

We both stood and I shook the proffered hand grinning, aye – Rob Wayne – Manager, has a nice sound to it.

[SCIAG]

This is a very fluent start. You've taken what is in essence a cliché (career ended early by a bad injury), and removed the cliché by handling it so well.

[foozle]

Thanks SCIAG - it was tough to know how to end Rob's career so that he could start his management career at a relatively young age. I wanted him to be a one-club icon at Everton so it was either injury forcing the retirement or the Cantona-esque dark night of the soul.

I want him to remain fairly light-hearted though so ultimately, the injury won out!

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Negotiations were smooth to say the least.

I was nervous walking into the expansive board room at Goodison Park that had been put aside for my discussions with the delegation from SC Heerenveen; this was potentially life-changing so nerves were understandable.

I had the luxury though, of being able to make a decision there and then. I’ve no children and I’m a single man after Lisa had walked out on me what felt like a life-time ago but in reality had only been 6 months previously.

I put thoughts of Lisa to one side, I’d tried not to look back since and looking back now won’t help. SC Heerenveen wants to look forward and so do I.

“Roberto – pleasure to meet you at last,” cried a man with a smart accountant’s hair cut and a sharp suit. “Henk Hoekstra, General Manager of Heerenveen Football Club. This is my assistant, Patrick Davids,” said Henk gesturing to a young looking man with sharp eyes and a folder in his slightly trembling hands.

“Please call me Rob; I don’t think I’ve quite got the accent to be a Roberto to be honest,” I said shaking hands and grinning broadly.

It’s an odd quirk of mine and one my Mum used to hate but I can’t quite take to being called Roberto, even now. I think it’s the local Scouse accent and the fact I represented Scotland with a fierce pride but I’ve always been a Rob, plain and simple.

The introductions over we got down to business fairly quickly. I’d already made my mind up on the drive over to Goodison from Finch Farm that I’d be accepting the job subject to a few of my own conditions being met and the feeling I was getting from Henk and Patrick was one of enthusiasm for their club and a certain eagerness to recruit me which, I have to be honest, helped their cause immensely. Mainly as part of me could see myself in their shoes if I was trying to sell Everton to someone.

“We are a rapidly progressing club Rob and we feel you can help us with that. Your ability as a player is well known in Holland – what is less known but has not gone unnoticed is that your reputation for coaching young players is also remarkable.

Last season we finished 5th in the Eredivisie and were winners in our national cup meaning that we have the chance to compete in the Europa League this season. Ultimately we can see that the balance of power is shifting away from the traditional “Big Three” of Ajax Amsterdam, PSV Eindhoven and Feyernoord.

AZ Alkmaar and FC Twente took the top two spots in last season’s Championship. Long-term we would like to be in that position and we see you being the man to take us there or at least, lay the foundations for future success.

We propose to offer you an initial two-year contract on a salary of £8,250.00 per week, this to be reviewed at the end of your first season.”

I mulled over what Henk had said and cast my eyes over the contract – I couldn’t see anything that I didn’t like the look of within its contents and I liked what they had to say - progressive club, ambitious but with a dash of healthy realism and European competition to boot.

“I’ll have to pass this to someone in Everton’s legal department just to make sure it’s all above board which I’m sure it is. Formalities you know? I don’t have an agent and my own legal adviser…” I stopped as a stab of old pain washed over me, she’s gone Rob I thought, walked out and enjoying herself and her new life no doubt – get over it.

“Ahem, apologies ah, my own legal adviser and I terminated our working relationship some time ago.

I’m willing to shake hands on the deal now and complete the paperwork later and send it on subject to your answering my following queries. Will I have full control of player recruitment, both incoming and outgoing and can I be assured of no interference from board level in the running of the team?”

“I’m glad you asked that Rob, the Chairman Mr Kuiper has no desire to tell you how to do your job in terms of both tactics and recruitment. You will have complete control on that front. I have been authorised to tell you that you will have a starting transfer fund of £6million pounds additional to any revenue you raise from selling current staff.”

This was music to my ears as I stood and offered my hand.

“Then Henk my friend, you can advise Mr Kuiper that he has his manager,” I said as Henk Hoekstra and Patrick Davids took turns in pumping my arm up down like a piston with manic grins plastered across their faces.

[Greasy Chip Butty]

Great start foozle, I'm reading!

[foozle]

Thanks GCB - loving the name, is it a reference to the Saw Doctors?

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One Week Later

After 20 years of service at Everton my departure was blessedly swift – I was given a rousing send-off from the playing and support staff. David Moyes took me to one side to wish me well and offer some sage words of advice.

I just wish I could remember them.

I’m not normally a nervous person by nature; on the pitch I was loud, brash and confrontational. I had no problem standing in front of the cameras after the game had finished and after my playing career ended I dabbled with punditry doing some work for Sky.

This however, was uncharted territory. Waiting outside the press office at the Abe Lenstra Stadion as Henk began his introductions to the press and awaiting my cue to enter – the nerves were jangling.

“Ladies and gentlemen it’s my pleasure to introduce to you, the new manager of SC Heerenveen – Rob Wayne,” announced Henk Hoekstra and I made my way into the press office to make my debut in front of Holland’s sporting press.

“Rob, welcome,” murmured my new employer Mr Yme Kuiper the Chairman of Heerenveen as he handed me a replica shirt with WAYNE emblazoned across the back.

I’d met Kuiper the day after my arrival in Holland to discuss plans for the coming season and his vision for the club. I have to say I was impressed with him, a calm and thoughtful aura seemed to radiate out of him. The meeting was brief but we planned to watch the squad train for the first time later today after the formalities of my introduction were concluded.

I held the shirt aloft and flashed a grin for the cameras, blinking back the spots that danced before my eyes from the flashbulbs. After a couple of minutes, we took our seats and Kuiper, patiently waited for the tumult to die down before speaking.

“Thank you everyone for attending here today as we unveil the man who we hope, will continue our progress both on and off the pitch over the next few years. As a player Rob Wayne bewitched fans for Everton and indeed, the opposition. I am delighted to have the chance to work alongside him over the course of his contract.

Now, you don’t want to listen to me – the man you’ve come to speak to is right here, Rob Wayne,” finished Kuiper putting the pressure well and truly on me.

“Rob, how do you expect to cope in a division as demanding as the Eredivisie with no prior management experience? Surely you’re out of your depth?”

“Sorry and you are?” I asked feeling mildly annoyed but also not surprised that this question had reared its head.

“Raymond De Graff, De Telegraaf.”

“You're a poet Ray,” I snapped back quickly drawing laughter from the assembled press. Raymond bristled with a flash of anger but waited for my answer.

“I had a long and moderately successful playing career both domestically and internationally. I’d secured all the relevant coaching badges by the time I was 26 and I’ve coached at a top, top Premier League club for the past 18 months.

Do I know the game better than anyone in this room? No, do I know the game better than Arsene Wenger, Sir Alex Ferguson, and David Moyes? No – but there’s things about the game where I’d say I’m better placed than them to judge and vice-versa.

I want to learn from the students of this game about management, how to be a success and how to bring trophies and good times to this club. I’m confident in my own abilities, I’ve learnt a lot from David Moyes and I intend to put that to good use here. All I need is an opportunity and I’ve got that.”

I had to draw breath there and noted the press urgently scribbling down their comments and waited for the next salvo.

“Hi Rob, David Brinkerhoff, Elsevier. What’s your transfer strategy? Have you got an idea who features on the current and who doesn’t?”

“Roughly speaking , yes I have,” this drew surprised looks from Henk and Yme on the top table with me and from the press.

“I’ve been fortunate enough to have watched Heerenveen in action a few times last season and Everton’s scouts have attended plenty of their games last season. They were kind enough to furnish me with some reports prior to my arrival.

That’s not to say that I’ve already made up my mind, everyone here gets the chance to impress in training.”

Raymond De Graff spoke up again and already he was irritating me with his attitude, I’d have to see if Steve McLaren at FC Twente got this from him last season.

“Rob what about the issues with your partner Miss Lisa Jones? I understand you are no longer together, can you comment on that?”

“No as it’s not relevant to this press conference – if you want info on my private life I suggest you buy OK Magazine they’re normally pretty nailed on. Next?”

That question had rocked me as it was so unexpected. My relationship with Lisa was not exactly high profile, she was successful lawyer - not a celebrity who would draw the public eye. However, Lisa's a beautiful girl and I was a Premier League footballer and we enjoyed going out; natural prey to the headline hungry paprazzi - I suppose it's only natural a journalist worth his salt would pick up on it.

“Looking forward to the season starting Rob?” This last question came to me from one Samantha Van Croos – a reporter for the local newspaper, Henk had advised me to try and keep her sweet and I was in no mood to make another enemy today given that Raymond De Graff from De Telegraaf was seemingly gunning for me.

“I am, can’t wait to get started in the Johan Cruyff shield, can’t wait to get the league under way and I can’t wait to get training with the lads so if you’ll excuse me – that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

I got up and after shaking hands again with Kuiper and Henk for the cameras, strode out to get changed and oversee my squad for the first time as manager.

[Greasy Chip Butty]

Thanks GCB - loving the name, is it a reference to the Saw Doctors?

Nah, it's a reference to the Sheffield United song! Another good update!

[foozle]

Thanks for the continuing support GCB!

“Handled like a natural Rob,” said Henk as we strolled down towards the manager’s office.

“Cheers Mate but who the hell is that De Graff bloke? He seems to have it in for me already,” I asked with not a little frustration. Fair enough if I do a bad job slate me to hell and back but I’ve not even managed a training session yet.

“He’s a…difficult man De Graff. If you ask me, he’s attempting, with some success, to create a media persona for himself. He wants to be the name people read about, his opinions to be the ones repeated in the bars and his views to be the ones the casual fan takes as gospel,” offered Henk with a thoughtful look. “He’s going to give you a hard time Rob – but you’ve probably gathered that.”

“Yeah I guessed as much,” I muttered making my way into my new, if sparsely decorated office. “Take a seat anyway Henk, time we got to work on putting men like De Graff in their place.”

“What’ve you got in mind?” Henk was looking at me now with…was it caution or perhaps excitement in his eyes? Probably a mixture of both – this could be what makes or breaks our season.

“I said in that conference I’ve got an idea who features and who doesn’t, I believe that to be the case. However, I am open-minded enough to allow that to change, if someone impresses me sufficiently that is.

“However, I do have in mind a list of additions I’d like to bring in. I want you to negotiate for some of them, there’s some I’ll take care of personally. First up though, get on the phone to Sebastian Viera’s agent and offer him terms as the club’s number one.” I watched Henk note the name into his Blackberry and handed him the dossier I had on Viera.

“Secondly, get on the phone to the General Manager of Pescara in Italy and advise them that we want Marco Veratti over here – he’s not on a full-time deal so we’re entitled to make an approach. Keep it amicable though, I reckon they know he’s going to be leaving so let’s try to keep it courteous.”

“Ok Rob, anyone else?”

“Yes, see what sort of deal you can negotiate me for Freddy Guarin at Porto. I want him outright but I’ll take a loan if that’s all you can manage,” I handed over another dossier, this one on the Colombian midfielder which Henk took.

“What about you Boss, you said there’s a couple you’ll deal with?” enquired Henk already tapping numbers into his Blackberry and hopefully, setting the transfer wheels in motion.

I grinned back as I rang a familiar number into my own Blackberry, “Oh aye Henk, I’ve got two in mind…”

I listened as the ringing tone was replaced by the clipped answering tones at the other end of the phone, “Good Afternoon

Everton Football Club Manager’s Office, Eileen Turner speaking, how may I help you?”

“Well Eileen if you could tell him that I’m already after some of his players that’d be a start,” I replied hoping that my instincts on this one would be right.

[footballmanagerlegend2k8]

This is amazing so far, KUTGW

[foozle]

Thanks FMLegend, glad you're enjoying!

####

“Rob, how’s it going? I saw you getting a hard time this morning on Sky –you did well,” said Moyes as he accepted the call from Eileen.

“Thanks Boss, going good so far, the grilling from De Graff aside. I’m taking training shortly for the first time too so bedding in now, it’s starting to feel real,” I offered in reply. It was good to speak to Moyes, I was feeling reassured and the confidence was flowing again.

“Good, good. Now I know you haven’t called to chew the fat. Who are you after?” Classic Moyes – straight into it.

“Coleman and Baxter,” classic Rob, straight into it I mused – well if works for Moyes…

“Hmm. Well I did say I’d let them go on loan, is that what you had in mind?”

“I’d take a loan though if you want to talk transfers I might be interested?”

“Not for Baxter,” replied Moyes immediately. Was he seriously about to let me buy Coleman after I’d raved about him?

“How about Coleman then?”

“Take him on loan, see how it works out for you and him. If you both want to make it a long-term thing he’s all yours for £230,000.00.”

I nearly choked on the water I was sipping, I was hopeful I might get one on loan, nevermind both and with a permanent deal in the offing.

“You’re too good to me Boss,” I laughed feeling good with myself.

“I’m not your Boss anymore Lad,” replied Moyes, “but I’ll put it to them and let you know what they say. You take care.”

“Cheers David, you too.” I couldn’t help but feel odd calling Moyes “David” but that was another thing for me to get used to I guess.

[Saxonaitor]

Really well done this keep it up.

Although every time I see a new story like this it reminds me of my one slowly wasting away :/ Must update it but just can't get the energy to play it.

[nbrethe]

Great story so far, really enjoying this!

[bondy :)]

this is a nice story keep it up

[foozle]

Guys I can't thank you enough for the support, I had a bit of a run of writing yesterday for the first time in a while. Thanks for sticking with this through the introductory elements, I promise the football is coming soon!

I made the short trip to our training ground at Hoofdingang van Friesland College, which I immediately determined to call “The College” from now on. I had initially planned on taking the first session with the new squad but had decided against doing so.

Instead I’d oversee the full session with my Chairman, Kuiper and discuss my transfer plans. I had already made overtures for 5 players and I had plans to try and recruit a few more, as well as shipping out players I deemed to be “dead-wood.”

As I made my way to the dressing room I was met by my two assistant managers, Jan de Jonge and Gert Heerkes for the first time.

“Morning Gents, nice to meet you Rob Wayne,” I said introducing myself and shaking hands.

“Nice to meet you Mr Wayne,” replied Gert with a confident but friendly air.

“Please, it’s Rob, or gaffer, or boss –whatever works for you guys I’m not fussed.”

“Sounds good to me Boss,” grinned Jan shaking my hand enthusiastically.

My early work on the transfer front had cheered me no end, especially given the positive response I’d received from Moyes. However, I was nervous about my meeting with my two inherited assistants for the first time. We’d spoken on the phone and both had assured me they had no interest in the vacant job I had taken and had no problem working with someone several years their junior.

We stepped into the manager’s office and I waved them into the empty seats in front of me for a brief debriefing.

“Ok, so what do I need to know? Who already hates me, who can we afford to let go of immediately, where do we need to strengthen and what’s the current feeling generally?” I asked rapidly drawing surprised looks from my assistants who exchanged wary looks.

“Look, I know there’s going to be some players there that don’t think I should be manager, that’s fine. I’ll ship them out and their arse won’t even touch the door on the way. I want this squad ready, willing and able to play for me with the minimum of fuss,” I was trying to sound reassuring but I probably sounded like the big man trying to come in and change everything.

Jan seemed to get where I was coming from though.

“Michel Breuer and Roy Beerens would probably be out the door given the chance. Both of them have been quoted as saying they want moves. Beerens thinks he should be at a bigger club, Breuer just wants something new I think.”

“You’ve got a lot of players who I’d say are surplus to requirements brought in by previous management but odd as it sounds, no real depth,” concluded Jan.

“You need a goal-scorer,” added Gert.

“And a left-back,” offered Jan as I scribbled frantically.

“A keeper would be good too,” said Gert looking at Jan.

“I’ve got that covered!” I almost yelled trying to get the conversation back on track. “Henk’s offering terms to Sebastian Viera today, Uruguayan keeper. Very good.”

“There’s a lot of average players on the books Boss, you really need to look at the squad in action to decide. I have a list here that I think could attract positive transfer interest that you could let go,” said Gert offering me a folder.

“Leave it for now, you lads get out there and take training. I’m going to speak to the Chairman and watch the lads train. After that we’ll compare notes and see if we’re in agreement,” I said rising from my chair slightly concerned about the squad I was about to see.

[TerrierBhoy7]

Oh dear, bad squad!! Keep it up Foozle

[foozle]

Major changes afoot Terrierbhoy, partly due to the tactics I'll be employing but fund-raising is key

I made my way to where Kuiper was seated, I was marvelling at the training ground. I could see the masses of potential here for conducting training the proper way. One of the main things I wanted in my squad was a huge sense of professionalism. I wanted them to train hard and maintain their fitness, even if some of the lads were not always in the first eleven.

“Hello Mr Chairman,” I said taking a seat next to Kuiper, watching as the players emerged and began stretching.

“Call me Yme, Rob – I also don’t go in for formality,” smiled Kuiper at me. “So, the first time you see your new charges. A chance to impress for some.”

“Well as I said, I’ve got a fair idea already of what sort of squad I’ve got here. I am going to strengthen though. Especially if you want me to get you back in Europe,” I said adding the comment about Europe almost as an afterthought. I know with the current squad Europe was a realistic target – I however, have loftier ambitions though those cards are being kept close to my chest with regards the board.

“Yes Henk advised me that moves were afoot to strengthen. Have you heard anything yet?”

“Not a great deal. Henk’s negotiating for three players, I’ve made an approach for two. I’ve got some other targets in mind. We’ll see, still day one yet and some of the moves we make in will depend on who moves out.”

Kuiper mused on this as the squad started their drills – short sprints to start with before moving onto ball work.

“Sibon’s past it, “I muttered out loud making notes. Gerald Sibon was a cult hero at Heerenveen but at 35 he looked old. He was way off the pace and the close control didn’t seem to be there.

“He’s popular with the fans,” responded Kuiper cutting into my thinking.

I looked at him wondering if that was a subtle hint that he was also popular with the Chairman.

“I would agree with you though Rob, his old energy is not there. Sentiment and nostalgia have no place in football now eh?” Kuiper was smiling a little wistfully here. It was sort of sad to think that I was quite ruthlessly planning on shifting out someone who meant a lot to the club, I felt compelled to justify my motives.

“He can finish. He can finish very well and that’s a huge compliment. I reckon mentally he can cut it, but if he can’t keep up with the play he’s useless to me. Does he want to play or would he coach?” Sibon would not be playing in my first-team; I’d like to explore the coaching option with him.

“Maybe one day but he still feels there is a lot left to give on the pitch for him, everything changes though. Obviously it is time for Gerald to move on if he wishes to play,” Kuiper replied watching Sibon struggling to keep up with the other players.

Sibon wasn’t alone in failing to impress me but I had a lot more sympathy for Sibon than I did for some of the other players. After three hours I had expanded my list of names to 13 that I felt would not feature for me – due for a variety of factors, some would not fit into the playing system I planned to implement, others did not have the ability to play.

As the players made their way back to the dressing room I stood to go and speak with them, I turned to Kuiper and offered my hand to him.

“I’ve seen plenty to suggest that we will have a good season Yme, if we can strengthen it might be one to remember.”

“I hope so Rob,” said Kuiper shaking my hand, “You have my backing entirely on that front and my honest agreement. Please, after you have met your team – come along to the stadium. The board of Directors is assembling and would like to meet you.”

“I’d be honoured,” I said smiling with a false jollity. The last thing I wanted was to mingle with the board. Still, if there were any out to get me the old saying would have me believe – know your enemy.

[Greasy Chip Butty]

Great reading still, foozle. And as for Sibon, get him out. Never liked him. Must be that blue and white striped shirt he once wore in England for that second rate team near where I am ...

[foozle]

GCB I well remember Sibon and Gilles de Bilde being woeful at Wednesday, as soon as I saw his name he was gone!

#######

I walked into the dressing room at the training ground amidst general banter and laughter from the lads who were showered and changed and awaiting my arrival. The noise died palpably as I entered the room and I was acutely aware that all eyes were trained on me.

“Afternoon Lads. I’m sure most of you know my name by now, been in all the papers, especially De Telegraff,” I said with a grin knowing that most of the squad would have witnessed or heard about my spat with De Graff, I was pleased to note a few grins at the quip. More than a few in fact, the ice was breaking.

“I’ve watched you train this afternoon and I’m pleased to see the application and effort from each of you. Cards on the table gents but here it is, I was lucky enough to play for one club and five different managers and I had misconceptions about some of them. I’m sure some of you have made your minds about me and want out. If that’s the case fine, I’ve no place for you here. My door is always open – if you want to leave, you can.”

I surveyed their faces, some, Beerens in particular would not meet my eyes.

“There’s a stack of offers for some of you on my desk, if you want out let me know and I’ll accept the ones that meet my valuation for you. I don’t want players here upsetting the balance and mood. If you want to play for me, great. Stick with me and I promise you I’ll do my best to bring success to this team.”

No-one said anything, no-one moved and Jan and Gert were flanking me at this point like bodyguards. The whole scene felt surreal.

“The door’s always open gentlemen. See you tomorrow,” I said and walked out with Jan and Gert following close behind.

Short, sharp and hopefully to the point – the message had been bludgeoned home essentially, if you want to play for me and I want you on my team you’re laughing. If not, pack your bags. I’ve seen too many nice men fail in football or be treated like garbage.

Being a nice man didn’t stop the late great Sir Bobby Robson getting the bullet from Newcastle United, despite being a fantastic manager and an utterly dedicated Newcastle fan. I was determined to be hard but try to be fair.

Still, I needed men I could trust in that dressing room.

“Who should be captain if I give Breuer his move?” I asked Gert.

“Kristian Nielsen,” replied Gert immediately. “He’s a born leader, brave and he’s a good talker who’s well respected.”

“Right well we’ll wait to see what Breuer says and if he wants out still then I’ll make Kristian captain,” Nielsen certainly has the qualities I want from a Captain so I’m more than happy to go along with Gert’s suggestion given he was in my thoughts anyway.

“Ok guys then, thanks for today. I’ll see you both tomorrow for training,” I said walking towards my office, Blackberry burning a whole in my pocket. I had moves in the transfer market under way but I wanted to explore further options.

Sadly those moves would have to be conducted on the move, I was expected in the board room so after picking up the sheets concerning bids received for my current playing staff I set of for the Abe Lenstra stadium for my “meeting” with the board of directors.

[foozle]

I’m fairly lucky, the walk from training ground to stadium is a short one and the weather was nice so I loosened my tie and carried my jacket over my shoulder while I strolled to the stadium.

I thought about calling an agent I know with an offer for one of his clients but on a whim opted to check my emails.

One name made me stop dead in my tracks, I opened it warily, which was an achievement considering I only had to click on the Envelope Icon next to the name:

From; Lisa Jones

Hi Rob,

I couldn’t help but notice you’ve got a new job as a manager! That’s amazing, who are Heerenveen I’ve never heard of them?? It must be so exciting managing your own team.

I hope we can be ok to each other, you know I didn’t want to hurt you but I had to say yes or I’d always regret it. It’s amazing here, you would have loved it. If you’re ever over please don’t say nothing, let’s meet up. I want us to still be able to speak to each other.

Anyway I have to dash – client conference, boring!

Take care,

Lisa x

I didn’t even bother reading the other items in my inbox; my mind was whirling – the message had thrown me completely. I’d not heard from Lisa since she’d walked out on me six months ago and I didn’t know what to think.

I stopped and sat on a bench desperately trying to marshal my thoughts. I had to get my head together; I was due to meet the board of directors in a little under half an hour. I needed to do something, anything to take my mind off Lisa.

I made a snap decision, I dialled in a number to my Blackberry and waited for the answer.

“Hey Roberto, long time no speak my friend! How are you, the big manager now I see and you need Rodrigo’s help already hey?!”

I’m not sure if I like Rodrigo Manatova. If you looked up horrific blood-sucking leech in the dictionary I’m sure there would be his picture next to the entry. He’s an agent. Sadly for me, he’s a damn good agent in terms of snaring his clients, though I hear his representation leaves something to be desired. However, I’ve heard enough whispers to suggest he might also be an agent who is partial to the occasional brown envelope. I knew I would have to tread carefully around him.

“Hello Rodrigo, you well?” I answered trying to keep my voice neutral, who was I kidding, I loathed Rodrigo.

“All the better for hearing from you my hairy friend,” I immediately couldn’t help but scratch at the 5 days of stubble growth on my cheeks. I hate Rodrigo.

“Look cut the crap Rodrigo, Denilson’s agent now, who is it?” I snapped, probably taking some of my frustration at the email out on Rodrigo. It felt good, better venting at Rodrigo than when I was with the board.

“The Arsenal player? Why do you want his agent, want to ask him where he gets his boots from?” Rodrigo dissolved into crippling laughter, amused at his own “joke.”

“No you idiot the ex-Betis player,” I snapped my temper flaring. “I know you used to represent him until he sent you packing for being as bad an agent as you are television presenter and yes I did see that disaster of yours it’s all over Youtube,” the laughter died in Rodrigo’s throat.

“Why should I help you out?” he replied with a surly tone.

“Because Rodrigo if you don’t I’ll mention to my fellow managers that I find you a bit suspect. That’s all it takes, one little word and suddenly FIFA are investigating. Don’t f**k with me.”

“I’ll email you the details over straight away,” muttered Rodrigo all traces of amusement gone from his voice.

“Pleasure,” I snapped hanging up. I exhaled deeply. That felt good. I heard my Blackberry ping as the email card dropped in. Another name to pass to Henk to negotiate for.

[mametz1536]

Great story - Lisa's email - stay well clear

[Greasy Chip Butty]

Never go back, never go back! Women = nothing but bloody trouble!

[foozle]

Thanks for the comments, sensing a bit of resentment already for Lisa's actions? Cheers for continuing to read folks

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

Friday June 26th 2009

Events were moving swiftly and the overhaul of the playing staff was well under way.

The club’s pre-season schedule had been arranged prior to my arrival and was discussed at some length in the relatively harmless board meeting I had attended just over one week ago. I was to take the squad on a tour of Austria, were three matches had been arranged to assist the squad in getting their fitness levels up and for me in assessing more fully who would and who wouldn’t have a future in my team. After Austria we were due to play a fixture in Switzerland before rounding off our pre-season schedule with a game in Germany and one in Hungary.

I want to try and play expressive and free-flowing football with a heavy emphasis on a central attacking trio of three centre-forwards. One deeper-lying central striker with two slightly more advanced forwards playing off him.

These three would be supported by three central midfielders who will line up in a similar vein, two advanced with another deeper-lying. The deeper lying midfielder will have the dual responsibility of trying to create chances from deep whilst also covering for the defence.

The defence will be a flat back four with the full-backs encouraged to press forward to support in attack and to shore up the midfield. Effectively, I like to think I’m employing a more pragmatic version of the famous Total Football; whilst I’d love to try and employ that philosophy in it’s entirety I’m dubious that it will be completely effective in the modern game.

Our first four friendly fixtures offered a mixed bag of results:

Friday JUNE 19th Austria –WON 3-0 vs. First Vienna FC 1894

Sunday JUNE 21st Austria – DREW 0-0 vs. SC Wiener Neustadt

Wednesday JUNE 24th Austria LOST 1-2 vs. Rapid Wien

Friday Switzerland JUNE 26th WON 2-0 vs. Bellinzona

I’ve never been one to read too much into friendly results, at the end of the day they exist purely in my mind to get the players back into match fitness and to get them used to playing after an all too common, brief time off in the close-season.

However, there was plenty for me to take from these first four fixtures to confirm some of my earlier suspicions and those of my assistants. The main one being that a centre forward is a must and that I need to strengthen the squad all over as beyond a decent first eleven I feel we are seriously lacking.

That’s why as I sat in front of a group of press-officers from Holland, Austria, Brazil, Uruguay and Britain I felt that I was making my first real move at showing that I was going to form this team into my own.

Henk was standing up to my right giving the usual updates to the media; training going well, manager settling in, performances on field encouraging, off field performances also encouraging etc etc. Nothing there to really shift papers and as a result, there was a distinct absence of pen scribbling on paper.

It was only when Henk motioned to me and sat down that the press really started to pay attention.

“Thanks Henk,” I said standing and facing the assembled media. “Firstly I’d like to echo the sentiments made by Henk, training is going well and we are all enjoying our time in Austria. The reason however, that we have called this conference is that the club are pleased to announce the capture of four new players who I believe will add to the already exciting squad we have in place and will help us to fulfil our goals for the coming season.” I exhaled deeply and looked at Henk, these press conferences were a carefully managed event and Henk was controlling every detail – so far so good.

Henk again stood and like a good performer, began to play his audience, reading out the player’s names as they entered and shook hands with Henk and then myself. I handed the players their shirts with their names on the back and posed for the cameras.

“Seamus Coleman…” Handshake, handshake, shirt, blinded by camera bulbs.

“Jose Baxter…” Handshake, handshake, shirt, blinded by camera bulbs.

“Sebastian Viera…” Handshake, handshake, shirt, blinded by camera bulbs and a lot more attention from the Uruguayan press delegation.

“And finally, Denilison…” Handshake, handshake, shirt, blinded by camera bulbs, nearly knocked over by sudden rush forward of all press officers and deafened by the immediate outbreak of excited chatter.

“Next time we’ll just announce them on the website,” I muttered to Henk furiously trying to blink the myriad of lights and spots dancing in front of my eyes.

Henk just grinned at me, “Ok then – any questions?” No sooner had Henk finished saying the Q in the word ‘questions’ than the room exploded into noise again.

[Satio]

very nice story you got going here, looking forward to more of the same

[foozle]

Thanks Satio and apologies to the folks who have been following for the sporadic updates, work and college is taking it's toll at the moment but I've got some new stuff down so we'll be getting into the actual matches soon!

All in all the conference went well.

Denilson de Oliveira Araujo was the focus of attention as I’d expected with his reputation and history. To my mind though, this is fine – he’s a name someone who will entertain and galvanise the fans and crucially, he’s my choice. Not one foisted on me by a board desperate to shift shirts and merchandise, my choice, my gamble.

When I’d mentioned his name to Kuiper he’d been keen on the transfer, provided it didn’t break the bank. When Kuiper found out that our man was a free agent my stock rose a little higher again. The board are happy with our man and so am I as crucially, the left hand side of my attacking triumvirate is taken care of.

Questions were raised about the desire and hunger of Denilson given his recent nomadic wanderings around various clubs around the world however, in a further coup for the club the bulk of Denilson’s contract is performance based. Oddly in the modern age, a set-up actively encouraged by the player and his agent. The basic weekly salary is amongst the lowest in the squad. If he plays though and scores or creates a chance then the bonuses are substantial. If that motivates him, it works for me.

After the conference had finished I met with Henk to discuss future transfers and deals that were currently progressing.

“Lauren rejected our deal – he’s signed for Bolton Wanderers in England. We’ve had our bids for Bernardo and Leo rejected – “

“The two Brazilian lads?” I interjected quickly looking up from the scouting reports in my hand.

“Yes, bids rejected outright with no prospect of negotiation,” sighed Henk. “I really thought we might get one of them.”

“I thought we might get both to be honest. Ok, what else?” I was disappointed with this latest development. I remember all too well a young Brazilian striker called Ronaldo landing in Holland for PSV Eindhoven and the impact he made, I had visions of history repeating itself for me.

“Your offer to Verratti is with the player and his people, early indications are good. He’s a fan of yours apparently – his club are willing to sensibly discuss compensation, they’re not going to run screaming to FIFA for a tribunal.

The starting fee for Fredy Guarin looks steep – they want over £4million for him. We can offer less than half that at present so we’re at an impasse. I know you’re keen on him Rob but might be time to look at other options while we try to find a middle ground.”

Henk was looking frustrated at the way the move for Guarin was playing out. The lad’s club FC Porto were playing serious hard ball for him. I know Henk’s been burning the midnight oil on this one though so I was grateful for his efforts.

“Ok, go back to Porto and sound them out about a loan – see if that interests them and see if we can work in a fixed fee if you manage it. Has Fredy indicated if he’s interested at all by the way? I don’t want you wasting your time on this if you think it’s going to be tough getting him here.”

“No we should be ok, he wants to leave Porto and we’re the best that’s available to him right now – should be fine,” replied Henk leafing through reports. “Here check these out, anyone on there in case it doesn’t play out?” Henk handed over a bundle to me.

I took my glasses off and ran my hands through my hair, I was exhausted. I was homesick a bit as well truth be told. I felt settled but I knew I was still trying to adjust. Time was pressing on though and I knew that when the matches started that life would be that little bit easier.

I glanced down at the names Henk had passed me and none of them jumped out at me though any of them would be a decent addition if our primary targets fell through. I passed Henk over the list of names on my side and pushed his list back to him.

“Ok Henk, those on the top-sheet – focus on them they’re the A List effectively for what we’re trying to do. If you can’t get them, the lads you’ve identified are fair game to go for – we should be ok going off those two sets of players and if we’re not…who knows?” I shrugged, managers either sink or swim often depending on their performance in the transfer market – I just had to see how this would pan out.

Henk scanned the list of names and frowned, “Rob there’s nowhere near enough transfer money to cover two of these lads, let alone all of them.”

“There will be Henk, you sort the buying and I’ll do the selling.” I leaned back in my chair and sighed.

God I was exhausted.

[Greasy Chip Butty]

Henk seems an excellent man to have by your side!

[foozle]

Henk's a good guy, he's got the best interests of the club at heart.

Chapter Two – It’s Getting Better (Man)

Thursday July 23rd (First fixture two days away)

“Pass and move, pass and move – shift it on Marco lad, good stuff ok and again from the back.” I was directing training with an eye on the fitness of some players and the opening fixture of our campaign in two days time weighing heavily on my mind.

“Get them to practise penalties before we finish will you?” I said turning to Gert who was stood next to me. “I don’t need anyone unprepared to take one out of the 18 for Saturday.”

“No problem Rob, new lads look like they’re settling in well?”

“I’m happy – they’ll be starting Saturday. Whole new team, at least we’ve got rid of some of the dead wood and there’s more to go,” I replied watching the squad practising drills with Jan.

Gerald Sibon has left, accepting a two-year contract at Excelsior.

Following the much travelled Dutchman out the exit door was former Captain Michel Breuer who leaves for pastures new in Italy with Sampdoria.

Michel is an odd case really; I certainly think his best days are behind him but would have been happy to keep him. Whilst he never actively expressed any dissatisfaction publically with me or my methods I could tell he wasn’t enamoured with the changes. The money we received for him was good so letting him go under the circumstances was not too tough.

Also departing was Milan Kopic a left sided defender who now plies his trade for Ipswich Town in the English Coca-Cola Championship.

With the freed up wages and transfer revenue recovered for the three departures it meant we had room to manoeuvre in terms of player recruitment. Whilst I was by no means done I was pleased to have made a further three additions to the previous four from last month.

Joining the Heerenveen revolution are:

Marco Verratti a talented young attacking midfielder who has signed in from Pescara in Italy. Initially believed to be one for the future by the coaching staff here I’ve seen enough in training to believe there’s more of a role for Marco to play this season.

Antunes is a Portuguese international left-back who in my opinion was surprisingly out of favour at Roma, also in Italy. On learning of his availability moves were made to secure him immediately and I was delighted to confirm his acceptance of our contract to the coaching team.

Accompanying these new recruits would be Brazilian under-21 international Tinga who was due to arrive tomorrow from Ponte Preta. Tinga along with the other new recruits will more than likely go straight into the line-up for Saturday’s game against AZ Alkmaar in the Johan Cruyff Shield.

I sat in the chair in my office and checked my emails. There was an assortment of various messages in the inbox, some from scouts, coaches, subscriptions to newsletters arranged by our press department and thankfully a few from friends and family in Britain. Nice to know I hadn’t been forgotten. I typed out responses to the personal messages and then quickly dealt with the few work related ones that I hadn’t got round to replying to.

Training was done for the day; I looked out across the empty training pitches and tapped my fingers on the desk. What to do? Henk’s dealing with the last of the player recruitment – there are a few more players I’ve got my eye on. Nothing to do on that score, Henk has it all under control.

I was looking for excuses not to return to the apartment provided to me by the club. I’m very grateful to them for arranging my living quarters with the minimum of fuss, I provided the specifications for what I wanted and they found and furnished the property for me. All I have to do is sort the rent out and live there.

I never realised though just how isolated I’d be out here. I get on well with my staff and some of my fellow managers have been kind enough to offer words of encouragement and advice. However, I still go home every night to an empty apartment. I need to meet people but it’s not easy – I’m not really difficult to spot in a crowd and my voice and accent can give me away. I’m happy to meet fans but not all day and all night.

I grabbed the book I was currently reading from my desk and made for the door. I had to get out of that office, it was oppressive. I decided to head into the city centre, there’s a nice café there where I don’t get hassled. I’d have a cold beer and read my book and try to relax. It’s off to Amsterdam tomorrow for our opening game of the season.

At the very least I should be able to find something to help me relax in Amsterdam.

[Geddes1989]

Truely a brilliant read! Can't wait for the next update, KUTGW!

[McLovin]

Really enjoyable story! Look forward to seeing it progress.

[foozle]

Thanks for the support and encouragement and now, at last - football!

Saturday July 25th 19:45 k.o.

Amsterdam ArenA, Amsterdam.

40 minutes played.

SC Heerenveen 0 -2 AZ Alkmaar

“JOSE, JOSE! TUCK IN TIGHTER DOWN THE CENTRE, NARROW IT UP.”

“SEAMUS, GET TIGHT ON THE F**KING MAN, DON’T LET HIM GET PAST YOU!”

“NIELSEN GET THEM F**KING CONCENTRATING ON THE RUNS, THEY’RE NOT PICKING THEM UP!”

I was bellowing, I was raving, I was ranting and I was incandescent with rage. My side, despite being well drilled and effective in pre-season was bumbling round like a gang of drunks on a Blackpool stag night.

“We need to change it boss, some of these lads don’t look up for it,” opined Gert without taking his eyes off the pitch.

“At the very least this does show the need for an out and out goal scorer Rob, the approach plays ok but we’re missing too many chances,” said Jan chipping in with his thoughts.

I want to win this game, it’s Holland’s equivalent of the Community Shield, their Super Cup. The board have stated they’re not concerned with the result particularly but I know Kuiper would like another shiny bauble for the trophy cabinet.

“Ok, tell Denilson to swap with Michal, get him down the middle with Michal doing the leg-work down the left and tell them to get narrower. Jose and Michal need to play off the defender’s shoulder,” I said scribbling onto a note-pad as Jan signalled the changes.

44th minute of the match, Marco Verratti picks up the ball in the centre and skips past two men, then a third. A neat one-two with on-loan midfielder Hernan Losada takes him within striking distance of goal. Instead of shooting he feints to shift the ball left to Michal Papadopoulos but instead sends a killer through ball angled to the right whilst looking left.

The defenders are left for dead in the centre, Denilson reacts quickest.

The ball is nestling in the bottom corner and Denilson is racing to collect the ball and return it to the centre-circle. He salutes the bench and turns to our travelling fans and pumps his fist, the noise from our support is deafening.

I’m pleased, a goal before half-time is fantastic and it’s a new boy, always pleasing.

The half-time whistle comes and it’s too soon as far as I’m concerned. We've got them on the back foot now. No matter, this match is going to be decided on how I handle this team talk.

“For 43 minutes out there I saw precious little attacking flair gentlemen and I saw some alarming lapses in concentration. Those two goals you conceded were sloppy, poor and avoidable. Fortunately, you managed to pull one back and what a goal it was.

Marco, that was fantastic, seriously kid brilliant play. Denilson – great take, keep running don’t give up. All of you, the effort’s there I can see that. No-one’s shirking out there but you need to believe you can do it.

You’re only as good as your last game gentlemen. Do you want to start the season as losers? We lose here and we’re runners-up straight away, the bridesmaids. F**k that.

Get out there and don’t let up on them – you can play better than them so don’t fight them, outplay them. Ok, Gert – get them prepped and out there, you’ve got 5 minutes,” I said walking out into the tunnel as Gert ran through the tactics for the opening part of the half.

“They looked fired up Boss,” said Jan walking alongside me back to pitch side.

“You think?”

“Yeah definitely, not too hard, fair but not pulling any punches. They’re pros Rob you didn’t say anything they weren’t aware of,” said Jan patting me on the back.

“Let’s hope we show up in the second-half then,” I said a wry smile crossing my face.

[Darkwain]

Fantastically written, and really very complelling

[Greasy Chip Butty]

I smell a comeback. Come on Heerenveen!

[foozle]

Thanks for the continuing feedback folks!

From the off in the second half we were a different team, AZ didn’t get a look in. I prowled the technical area like a coiled spring.

On the 70th minute, Denilson who was out on the left shimmied past two men and floated an inviting cross into the middle.

Papadopoulous missed the ball, the AZ defence seemed to freeze and as the ball landed about 12 yards from goal, Jose Baxter arrived to thunder in a half volley that brought 15,000 Heerenveen fans to their feet in celebration.

The bench erupted around me as I jumped punching the air in joy. Baxter raced into the corner as his team-mates mobbed him.

Just a curtain-raiser? This was huge now.

“GET AFTER THEM, DON’T SIT BACK,” I roared, we had the ascendency – I didn’t want us to take the pressure off now.

The game soon broke down into a midfield battle and the final twenty minutes passed with precious little quality played and no chances for either side. The referee Mr Nijhuis blew for the end of normal time and I made my way onto the pitch to brief the players.

“Same again, get out there, play the game. There’s only one side that look like Champions and it’s not them lads. Come on!” I turned and made my way back to the bench and heard Nielsen roaring his encouragement to the players who responded in kind.

Good Captain that Nielsen lad, I knew he had the potential.

Jan and Gert caught up with me looking baffled.

“Is that it? No tactics, no advice no methods for beating them?” Gert asked sounding border-line hysterical.

“Look, AZ have done nothing for just under an hour. If we keep the tempo up we won’t concede here I guarantee it – they’re utterly rattled that we got this back from two down. Relax,” I said reassuring my assistants. I was feeling confident.

End of 120 minutes.

Ok, so now I was nervous.

Extra time had been and gone without any further goals which meant we faced the lottery of penalties.

Oh well, hard way’s always more fun.

We won the toss and elected to shoot at our end. AZ would take the first penalty. My penalty takers had been pre-arranged before the match in order so the players knew who had to do what.

Sebastian Viera in goal’s job was simple – keep them out.

Maarten Martens stepped up for AZ and smashed his penalty down the middle of the goal.

1-0

Marco Verratti, 16 years young and with a great game already behind him on his debut performance placed his penalty in the bottom corner sending the opposition keeper the wrong way.

1-1

David Mendes da Silva netted his penalty for AZ, putting the ball in the same corner as Verratti.

2-1

Denilson with a debut goal and an assist stepped up and smashed the ball hard and true.

Against the post.

2-1

Anguish for the Brazilian, Viera comforting him – I felt a wave of deep sympathy for Denilson. A great performance on his competitive debut and if we lost the game now, the penalty miss would be remembered. Not the goal.

Gill Swerts for AZ sent the ball to the right and Viera managed to get a hand to it…but not enough, the ball beat him and nestled in the bottom corner.

3-1

On-loan Hernan Losada for us, down the middle – keeper no chance.

3-2

Still alive.

Kees Luijckx – swaggers up, confident, cocky, so sure in his own ability. Kees Luijckx takes one of the worst penalties imaginable, I’m sure Viera makes more of the stop to save the taker’s blushes.

3-2

Game well and truly on.

Captain Nielsen, the braveheart – smashes the ball hard and high into the top corner giving the keeper no chance.

3-3

Ari steps up and it’s sudden death – the game is tied. The penalty is good but a nice height for a keeper and Sebastian Viera guesses right, palming the ball away.

Ari falls to his knees, Viera clenches his fists in front of our travelling support.

3-3

The pressure is all on Antunes now. Another new boy and a fierce striker of a ball. His run up is short and the strike almost delicate as he curls it towards the left side of the goal.

He turns away and runs to the fans as the rest of the team follow him and again our bench erupts but this time in a final victory dance.

4-3 on penalties.

Final score sc Heerenveen 2-2 AZ Alkmaar

sc Heerenveen win 4-3 on penalties.

[nbrethe]

This a great read, loving it! Henk is a legend. Congrats on the first trophy