An American Pilgrimage (vbulletin edition)

[copperhorse21]

Chapter 46

Tuesday, 15 July 2008, Administration Bldg, Croft Park

Wrapping up my post-game responsibilities was easy. The media heard what they wanted to hear and my players heard what they needed to hear. Both answers ran along the same line. We aren't good enough yet so we'll keep working hard to improve, even if that means we must bring in new players. Our loyal supporters deserve to have Blyth stay up.

Both reporters and players had rumors to which they wanted answers. The reporters wanted to know our transfer targets and the players tried to persuade me to give them a day off.

The media heard, “Anyone who is willing to come here who is better than our current squad.”

The players heard, “You've got to give to get. If you give me a victory, then I'll give you a day off.”

Neither party enjoyed my answers, but I hadn't liked their questions either. Nor did I like Fenton trying to goad me into a fight after every match we lost. Usually, I could tolerate most people, regardless of their personalities. However, now that Fenton was sacked, all gloves were off and the fight was on. I hated him.

Waiting for Bobby's meeting was difficult. The beginning of the match was good, and the end of it bad, but my altercation with Fenton was ugly. I was nervous that somehow Bobby had seen it and finally tired of my foolish temper.

In my office, Robin worked hard to complete our promotional materials. The match report needed to be downloaded onto the web site and the printers needed our official team roster for the season's program guide.

I stewed in my juices. We were in a rut and needed to shake things up. It felt too much like work and not enough like play at the moment. We play football. We don't work football. Right now, I knew that getting these players on task while having fun is the struggle all managers face. It's easy to enjoy football when we win, but more often than not, failure is the end result. In our case, it had come in the front door and made itself at home.

Instead of walking to Bobby's door and hearing a private conversation, I chose to telephone him first. He answered on the first ring.

“Hello, Bobby. This is Copper. Are you ready for our meeting now?”

“Did I call a meeting? I know I'm swamped with work right now, but I don't remember asking you for one.”

Embarrassed, I said, “Well, you didn't ask me personally. Spencer said you wanted to meet with me.”

“Spencer was mistaken. I never spoke with him following the match either.”

I double-checked my memory to recall Spencer's comments following Fenton's Beer Bomb and I clearly remembered what he said. Mystified as to why Spencer would lie about my meeting, I apologized to Bobby.

“No worries. Come on down anyway, we've got matters of importance to discuss. Our garden has a lot of rows to hoe and we need to be working together on this. Clear communication is essential. I promise to keep it short.”

I felt incredibly relieved knowing that Bobby hadn't caught wind of what I'd almost done to Fenton. Surely, it would have cost me my job. However, I'd need to educate Spencer on telling the truth in the future. Making a mental note to call him immediately after Bobby's meeting, I spoke to Robin, “Bobby wants a quick word with me, I promise.”

She nodded and returned to her own work.

Inside his office, Bobby invited me to sit at the design work table. It felt good to be back on normal terms with him. It bothered me that I had annoyed him as I struggled to work with the system instead of fighting it because I felt responsible for the hits his reputation had taken since he hired me. I knew I was on borrowed time, but I was determined to cherish managing for as long as I could.

“Copper, nice first half out there. It was a pleasure to see us take it to them.”

“Thank you. The players have been working hard to improve, but we still have a long way to go before we are safe this season.”

“Very true. But at least you have a fighting chance now that you're working collaboratively with the rest of your staff. I'm proud of you. It's very tough to admit you don't know the answers. However, a true leader realizes when he doesn't have the answers, admits it to himself and others, and then does what it takes to find an answer that is effective.” He shook my hand and smiled.

“Thanks, but it's not me. It's Neil.”

“Stop it right there. Don't brush off my compliment. Accept it with a simple “Thank you.” and move on. What is wrong with getting recognized for doing something well?”

“Nothing is wrong with that. I'm sorry. I'm not used to getting compliments for my managerial skills.”

“Well, you better learn to accept them whenever you can get them. They don't come often enough in this business.” He walked back to his desk and opened up a folder that had been laying on top of his desk calendar. “Do you know what this is?”

I caught a glimpse of the paper and it looked similar to what I'd been given when I first came on board as manager. “Is that Ferguson's contract?”

“Correct. Ferguson's going to sign it here tomorrow. However, he still wants you to contact him immediately. It's extremely urgent.”

He handed me the number and opened up a second folder on his desk. “Is that another contract?”

He was beaming. “It is. This time for the other Scot, Keith Smith. He'll be here two days from now on the 17th to start as our physio.”

This meeting had gone so different than I expected. I felt lucky again, despite today's draw. Had Spencer caught me three seconds later, I'd have pounded Fenton senseless and myself out of a job because I wasn't Joey Barton, Newcastle's valedictorian in Battery. Now, I was in a meeting discussing our new physio and new assistant manager who were both on their way to Blyth soon. I was riding sky high and loving it.

“Thank you Bobby. I really appreciate you working all this out.”

“You're welcome. I'm glad that they work cheap in Scotland. I don't think we'd have been able to attract anyone else otherwise.” His voice dropped lower and he said seriously, “We still have to face the facts. You're winless streak is now 12 matches, including the friendlies. Frankly, I don't see that changing anytime soon. Please understand that whomever you bring into this club on staff will stay here after you are sacked. All of them know this too and that may be what is attracting them.”

I stopped for a moment. I hadn't considered this wrinkle. I had taken it for granted that all support staff behaved similarly to Neil. Obviously, not everyone was as humble as Neil. I did a mental checklist of my loyalty. Neil had told me already that he was content to coach for the immediate future until he retired. Spencer was brought in with no experience because his father at West Brom called in a favor to get him on our staff. Could that have been done because he expected me to get sacked soon and then his son could step in by default?

I'd have to think about these conspiracies later. For the moment, I was thrilled to bring Ferguson here and I hoped he could be persuaded to be our assistant coach. Unfortunately, a new thought tugged immediately at me. Since Ferguson already had an experienced track record of success at Clyde, was he coming here to usher me out and take over?

“Copper, I can see from your expression that I've surprised you. Be assured that I still believe you can be a very effective manager at this club. However, you must trust the people who have demonstrated loyalty to you. If you can succeed in this, then you will succeed at Blyth.”

“Thanks for the advice Bobby.” and I left to tell Robin we'd be delayed.

Who could I trust at Blyth? At the moment, I only trusted Robin and Neil. Everyone else still had something to prove. Both impending phone calls now had seeds of doubt planted in my mind and my paranoia was the miracle fertilizer to grow them.

“Robin, I've got two more phone calls I must make before I leave. I'm sorry.” My momentary play had just been replaced by more work. “Can you be available for a conference call?”

[copperhorse21]

Chapter 47

Tuesday, 15 July 2008, My office, Croft Park

How do Premier League managers deal with the daily chaos? Player management, media junkets, administrative meetings, tracking youth players, scouting teams, editing tape, and contract negotiations? Blyth isn't even on the map of professional soccer yet, but today gave me a taste of Big-Four football management.

Recently, Bobby hired John Spencer as a new coach sight unseen. He arrived late to work his very first day on the job. Then, he lied to me about a meeting with my Chairman following last match. After his lie was exposed, I made a confrontational conference call to him because I wasn't going to tolerate another Fenton on this squad. “John, care to explain to me why you lied about Bobby wanting to meet with me?” I accused.

Spencer replied, “Sorry, Boss. It was wrong of me to lie to you.”

“You're damn right.” I interrupted. “Not a best way to make a good impression.”

“No, I think you misunderstood me. Please, let me explain.”

“Fine, just remember I'm not in the mood for lame excuses.”

“When I saw that man confronting you, it was obvious he was trying to pick a fight especially after he dropped his beer. I lied to you because it was all I could think of at the time to keep you from retaliating.”

Talk about inserting my foot in my mouth. I felt very small at the moment having just made a complete ass of myself, again. “Oh man, I'm so sorry.” Robin's disappointed look cut me down a few more sizes. “John, please forgive me. I'm so embarrassed I accused you.”

“Well, that fits with what Neil said about you.”

“What did Neil say?”

“He said I shouldn't take anything you might say personally because you tend to be more emotional than most managers.”

My behaviors thus far supported Neil's claim, so I said, “I'm glad you listened to Neil. He gives good advice and I should listen to him more often. Again, I'm sorry.”

“I'll forgive you, this time. Just remember, I'm here to learn. I'm not ready to manage my own club yet, so consider me as someone who's paying my dues. I'm grateful just to be given a chance. When no one picked up my contract, my father got involved. That's humiliating too. Count us even, then?”

I did. Since that business was concluded, I needed to resolve another matter.

I made a conference call to Robert Ferguson, our newest staff candidate. Hoping to make a better impression on him than I had just done with Spencer, I entered our discussion more tentatively. “Hello, Mr. Ferguson?”

“Yes?”

“This is Copper Horse, from Blyth. You want to discuss an urgent matter?”

“Thanks for the ring. Yes, I do. It's about my contract.”

I feared the worst, but hoped for the best. “What about it?”

“Well, I've had second thoughts about being Assistant Manager.”

“You've got to be kidding me! Tell me your pulling my leg.”

“I wish I were, but I'm not. Straight up, I know I'm only going to get one chance to manage in England. Clyde's as high as I can go right now. Reached my peak, if you know what I mean.”

“Go on. What is it you're driving at man?”

“If I promise I can bring another member of Clyde's staff with me who does want to be Assistant Manager, will you take us both?”

I was flabbergasted and sat silent on my end of the phone. I couldn't even begin to wrap my head around the idea, let alone the financial ramifications of it. I looked at Robin to read her thoughts, but she had shrugged her shoulders indecisively.

“Are you still there, Mr. Horse?”

“Please, call me Copper. And yes, I'm still here. Can you tell me more about this person before we decide on anything else?”

“Sure. John McMillan's his name. He's a coach on the youth staff with me. Couple years younger, but whip-smart when it comes to tactics. He's good. Really good. If the contract you offered me is as good as what you can offer him, he said he'll jump ship too. We're very close friends and already work well together. Judging by our research, you need us to blend in and make a difference quickly. How about it?”

“That's an awful lot to consider, but I'm going to need more time.”

“Look, I'm being honest with you. John's good, better than me, but we're trying to stick together to work. Even if that means stepping down from First Division. It will be good for both parties. You get our experience. We get the chance to shine in a new country with a better wage. It's a win-win for everyone. Admit it, if you can't find a way to win soon, you're going to be sacked. Your back is against the wall. Don't you want to fight for your job?”

His challenge touched a nerve. I wanted to win now more than ever before. Admittedly, things were becoming desperate here and the temptation he offered seemed to good to be true. “When you get to know me, you'll see I've got more than enough fight in my body. However, I don't handle the finances. My Chairman does. He'll have to agree to the finances before we can speak about this further.”

“No offense, Copper, but you just said 'when I get to know you.' That means you've already agreed to the deal in your mind. Now, just convince your Chairman.”

His astute observation was accurate. I wanted him to come to Blyth badly, but I didn't know about his friend too, especially considering the money we'd need to fork over for a second coach from Clyde.

I looked to Robin for support and feedback. Should I do it? She gestured with her fingers to “keep rolling” the conversation along.

“Robert, I'm going to repeat a question I asked you before. If you want to succeed so badly, why are you recommending him to be the Assistant Manager when you are already manager of Clyde's youth squad? Don't you want our offered position so you can show off your managerial skills?”

“Good question. But I'll give you an honest answer. I measure success in many ways. I can succeed on my own or I can do it as part of a team. Since John came on board at Clyde, I've become a better manager. Together, we work better than separately. I don't want to wreck that. If that means I've got to give him the title of Assistant Manager, then I'm willing to do it. For me, its not about my personal title because I know that if we can swing it, we'll work together for as long as we can. John's and my skills working together make one hell of a coach. You won't be sorry, I promise you that.”

Wow. His answer was good. I liked it and I knew how he felt. Robin and I had that same kind of relationship. Together, we were much more effective than when we worked separately. My instinct screamed for me to take the risk, but my mind held me back because of the money.

Robin slid a note across my desk. It read, “Copper, how big are your balls?”

I looked at her to see if she was serious. We didn't make eye contact because she was scribbling another note furiously on her pad of paper. “Hold on, Robert, I'm getting some important information at the moment. I'll be with you shortly.”

Robin finished her note and I read it. “Copper, tell Bobby. He's stuck his neck out for you. If you're no good, hire some people who are. Don't be selfish. Put your ego away. Be a true leader. Go for it. I believe Robert. I love you. No matter what. I do.”

I looked at her and saw conviction. She was right. I mouthed, “Thank you” and said into the phone, “Robert, I've thought about what you said. I'm going to run your proposal past my Chairman immediately. If he agrees, then we'll contact you as soon as possible.”

“Excellent choice. I'll wait for your reply.”

We hung up and I told Robin, “Thanks for knowing my heart. You're so good at reading people and thinking quickly on your feet. I know it's cheesy, but it's true.”

She nodded and stood up. “I'll wait a bit longer. Go ahead and talk with Bobby. I'm going to make us some dinner. I'm starved.”

Bobby was not pleased with the additional expenses this emergency transfer required. I used the same argument as when I persuaded him to sign Ferguson initially, but he was unmoved. Desperate, I offered him Robin's rationale for hiring both of them. He thought for a moment and then said, “You understand that by bringing them both in, you are risking a mutiny?”

I said nothing in reply.

He continued, “Right now, you and Neil are on the same page. The two Scots are on the same page too. If these pages don't tell the same story when they are combined, then Spencer becomes the deciding factor in which story gets told. It might mean a repeat of the Fenton and Cunningham situation. Are you sure you're willing to risk this?”

He made an excellent point, but I remembered another recent argument that he told me. “Bobby, you said to me earlier this week that I needed to trust people who demonstrated their loyalty to me. Remember that?”

“Yes. Go on.”

“Well, I'm willing to risk my career and trust in Robin's instincts. She trusted in you and your sense of decency far sooner than me. You tell me all the time that I learn quickly, but she learns even quicker. We came to Blyth together and I'm willing to stake my faith in her judgment, even if it means we leave together.”

He sat silent on the phone for some time. Then he said, “Let's do it. But this is the last staff member you get. I hope Robin's right and they are good. Your career depends on it.”

[copperhorse21]

Chapter 48

Wednesday, 16 July 2008, My Apartment, Blyth

Robin's work in the kitchen awoke me. Groggy, I shook the cobwebs and sat upright on the floor. At nearly 40, I was getting too old to be on the floor in a sleeping bag nightly. With just a camping mattress between my old bones and the hard floor, I had sufficient motivation to improve our lot in life. The gypsy feel of our decorating style in the apartment couldn't disguise that we were broke.

In addition to our monthly rent in the fine town of Blyth, we also had a mortgage to pay back in the States. We knew it would be at least one more month of double payments before we could pursue eliminating one of them altogether.

Robin was a trooper, but I knew she deserved more stability than I offered for her presently.

Last night after our friendly, Robin helped me make some conference calls of which the end product was my begging Bobby to bring on another coach at a hefty transfer fee of 20K. I'd tossed and turned all night worrying about what I'd just done. 40K for two coaches I'd never met was ludicrous. But, desperation motivates people to do things they never would do otherwise.

Surprisingly, Bobby accepted my begging with alms and agreed to the deal. He warned me of its potential ramifications, but I knew that, with or without me, it was for the good of the club. Bringing Ferguson and McMillan at the same time would speed up the settling in process. Personally, it wasn't until Robin's familiar presence was here with me before I felt settled. I hoped this same scenario played out with the two Scottish staff because I had forty-five days remaining to make it work.

Since I had kept Robin up most of the night with my insomnia, she decided to make productive use of the wee hours of the morning to catch up on her personal emails. The last thing I heard was the click-clacking of the keyboard until the aroma of her specialty omelet wafted the short distance across the room to awaken me.

“Why the omelet? It's not a match day.”

“No, it's not, but judging by your fish out-of-water routine last night, I thought you would need a bit of butter, eggs, and cheese to settle your stomach. It seems to do the trick every time.”

“Thank you.” I replied.

“I wish I could say the same to you. I didn't get the shut eye you did.”

“I'm sorry.” I didn't like keeping her from sleeping because I couldn't relax.

She changed the subject while she continued cooking on the stove. “Well, despite what Bobby told you last night, I've got a good feeling about these two coming in.”

“I hope your right, because if you're wrong, we just hired our replacements.”

She chuckled. “Was I right about Bobby? About Neil? How about you?”

“Yes. Yes. The jury's still out on the last one.” I teased her and moved to stand behind her at the stove.

“You're an ass.”

“Yes, but I'm your ass.”

“You're right, but get your hands off mine.”

I moved them off her, holding them up in plain sight as a sign of my surrender. Then I was the one to change the subject. “Do you think we'll be able to attract any of our potential transfer targets?”

“It depends on how they feel playing for us while getting paid a pittance. Most managers I know spend their transfer money on buying better players. Instead, you do the opposite and hack the wage budget so you can buy more staff. Do you realize that you will have spent almost as much on staff this week as you will spend on players this whole year if these transfers go through successfully?”

“I've always believed strongly in the power of coaching. A competent coach can take average players and make them great. A weak coach will take great players and make them average.”

“Which famous person said that?”

“No one who's famous yet.”

“Oh, is this another one of the witticisms that you make up?” She smiled.

“Yes. Is there something wrong with that?

“No.” She laid out both plates on the card table for us to start eating.

“Good, because a power I have, but of what strength and nature I am not yet instructed.'”

“YOU'RE quoting Shakespeare now?” She teased. “Don't you think you should stick to what you know before you try to impress me with your literary acumen?”

“Hey.” I warned with my mouth full of her amazingly tasty breakfast.

“Hay is for horses.” She said coyly.

“That's it. You stepped over the line.”

“Oh yeah? Who's going to stop me? You?” The look in her eye said it all.

I lunged up off my chair, swept her off hers, and carried her to our floor bed where I meted out a punishment appropriate for her insolence.

[O\'Hara_fan]

Looking forward to the new stuff now.

[copperhorse21]

O'Hara Fan: Thanks for the kind sentiment. I hope you find it ample satisfaction for your substantial patience. Next post scheduled for three days hence.

Chapter 49

16 July 2008, Staff Meetings, Croft Park

After playing politics in the bedroom, I knew I needed to play politics for real. Messing around with my wife was significantly different then messing around with the financial future of a football club, particularly in the Northeast of England.

Arriving on site, I took in my surroundings. The Carlsberg Stand was my favorite of the two main stands. The wooden structure was a throwback to classic football with the mud and the guts and the glory. The loyal supporters who loved this club with everything they could muster stood here at every match and chanted honest feedback.

Their honesty even eliminated the need for me to have my monthly Board Meetings with Bobby. Someday, I hoped the chants I heard from the stadium would become cheers instead of jeers. However, I needed to win a match first for that to happen. And to do win that first match, I'd need some fresh talent.

Today's scheduled meeting with Bobby would reveal how successful we'd done on the transfer market. Our big fish was Paul Taylor, recently relegated Vauxhall's striker. Having his firepower up front would lighten the load our twin towers faced. However, Vauxhall knew they had a player who'd play a key role in getting them back into the Blue Square North, if they could keep him.

The two goalkeepers, Lee Crockett and Simon Evans were within my sights and we needed desperately to have one of them keep the ball out of the net regularly. Our current keeper corps had struggled too much against lesser competition to give me any confidence they could improve fast enough for league play.

Our defensive unit definitely needed some shoring up too. Losing most of our veteran defenders had damn near crippled us. Neil's philosophy of team building had some merit and our recent results had given me enough evidence to convert to his way of thinking. We had decent strikers, but we kept losing games, especially in the later parts of the matches. It felt like we were the Blue Square's version of Tottenham Hotspur, but without the players who had finesse and skill. That would have to change, but we'd had so much trouble recruiting new players that we only had one interested defender, Luke Bennett, who might be good enough to improve our squad.

During a reflection of brutal honesty, I admitted I was the reason we'd had such trouble getting new players and staff to come here. My reputation for unusual tactical decisions and lack of traditional footballing pedigree made a volatile combination that scared everyone away. Hell, if all three Scottish staff signed contracts, we might have to change our nickname from the Spartans to the Tartans. I didn't know how the locals might feel about our foreign investment, but winning heals hurt feelings much more effectively than does time.

Since my time was rapidly running out, winning would have to do. This club experience was the most intense work situation in which I'd ever been involved, but I honestly believed we could turn things around with a couple more coaches and some key players, especially if we could do it collaboratively.

I imagined Neil's frog and stork illustration and under my breath, I muttered it's punchline, “Never quit.”

Moving quickly down the hall of the administration building, I noticed a note tacked to my copper horse nameplate and rushed toward it. On it was posted, “Call me immediately, good news awaits!”

I skipped the call and raced directly to Bobby's office. It was open and I heard my Chairman's voice inside on the telephone. He was saying, “Look, I know that we can offer your players a decent place to improve. We've added four new staff to our roster and we are poised for progress. Surely your club could benefit from the opportunity to grow here.”

I could scarcely believe my ears! I was delighted and knocked lightly on the door. Bobby turned and waved me inside his office emphatically. I took the seat at the design table, but immediately stood back up to pace. My excitement spilled outward and my mind buzzed at the possibilities. Who was on the other end of the line? I hoped it was a big club. Even though Bobby and I both felt Newcastle was a poorly run club, I'd accept any handouts they could offer us.

Bobby was listening silently and motioning for me to come near him. After a couple of moments, he said, “My manager just arrived, may I put you on the speaker phone?”

A moment's hesitation passed before he pushed the button revealing the voice on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Hello. This is Gareth Southgate. Pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

Gareth Southgate was on the other end of the line? I could barely believe it. I'd only seen him on television plenty during his time at Middlesbrough. Was Bobby striking a deal with Middlesbrough for our affiliated club? I was speechless.

“Hello, Copper? Are you there?” Gareth asked again.

“Sorry about that Mr. Southgate, a bit shellshocked. Yes, I'm here.” “Buffoon,” I chided myself.

Gareth got right to the point. “I'll be brief. We are looking for some first team experience for a couple of our younger players. Your Chairman has briefed me on your history, but I've got one question I need to ask to help me decide if it's worth the risk.”

“Sure. Go ahead and ask.”

“Why should I take a chance with you?”

“Pardon me?”

“What good would it benefit my club to affiliate itself with yours? Your club is not in contention for promotion. In fact, you narrowly avoided relegation last season and you've had a huge amount of turnover in staff and players since you've arrived. What good could possibly come from this?”

He didn't mince his words, did he? He had all the facts correct, but he didn't know the full story behind those facts. His directness challenged me and I responded accordingly.

“With all due respect, Mr. Southgate. If I recall, even though you were a former international player, you didn't have your coaching credentials fully completed until after you started your job in the Premier League. Like you, I might not have the instant pedigree required for my current position, but I do have a hell of a staff with a proven track record of success.”

I paused a moment, but all Southgate said was, “Continue.”

“Like you when you first arrived at Middlesbrough, I've battled against mediocrity from the staff and players both on the training pitch as well as their attitudes. Cutting dead weight is a good thing. We've got fertile soil here at Blyth with five staff dedicated to the development of youth. We are ready for a change to occur here in Spartan country. It's been a struggle for everyone here to adjust to the new expectations we have around this place. As a staff, we prepare like a promotion contending team. We expect to give our best to the team and we expect the members of our team to give the best they have to each other.”

I paused again. Once more I was told, “Go on, I'm listening.”

“As a small club, we can look out for each other here. We don't have the same distractions a big club has, but we can provide the focus they need to succeed. If you want your players to be cared for personally, we can do that for you. But we won't kowtow to prima donnas. We are a working-class club looking for people who commit themselves fully to training in the right way. If you've got some winners on your team you want to be placed in key roles on this squad, we'll give them the chance to earn their playing time. If they're a bunch of jokers, I'll send them back to you and we'll look elsewhere for some winners. Still interested?”

I wiped the sweat beading on my brow with my sleeve. I couldn't believe I had just challenged a premier league manager directly. I looked to Bobby for feedback, but was surprised to see him staring at me with his mouth half-opened in a state of disbelief. “Screw it.” I thought. “I'm sick and tired of getting pushed around because I don't have the right credentials. I believe in what I'm doing here, even if they don't. I'm done taking crap from people like Fenton. Choke on this, Fenton.” as I pictured myself ringing his throat with my bare hands.

After some tense moments of silence, Gareth Southgate replied, “I like your fighting spirit, Horse. If you agree to treat my players with as much passion as you've shown defending your club, then I'd be very interested in starting a relationship with Blyth. Can you agree to that?”

“Hell yes, I can.”

“Excellent. Then I'll recommend to my Chairman to affiliate with you this coming season. I'll have our respective Chairmen make the rest of the necessary arrangements. It was a pleasure speaking with you Copper. I wish you the best.”

“Thank you, Sir. Same to you as well.”

As soon as the line went dead, Bobby tackled me with a huge bear hug. “Copper, you were magnificent! I couldn't believe the fight in you, lad. I loved it.”

Frankly, I couldn't believe it either, but I was thankful to have done something well around here finally. It felt really good to tell someone honestly how I felt about this club and to persuade them enough to believe in me. I only hoped I could convince the players to believe in me before it was too late.

[Todorojoz]

Im happy to see some new stuff again... it has been a long wait for sure! But great timing in that you first new chapter in a while happens to be a positive one for Copper. Has he finally turned a corner?

[Barty08]

Southgate? Middlesbrough?!!! Wicked!!!!

Good to have you back :-)

[copperhorse21]

Todorojoz and Barty 08: Thanks for weighing in with some support. Loyalty is definitely underrated. I appreciate your repeated presence.

Chapter 50

Saturday, 19 July 2008, Carlsberg Stand, Croft Park

It was early morning when I arrived alone at Croft Park to watch the sun rise. The weather forecasters predicted a glorious day and I needed time to reflect upon the whirlwind of events these past three days.

During that time, we had welcomed three new part-time staff members from Scotland into our fold. Keith Smith arrived to become our physio and the coaching partnership of Robert Ferguson and John McMillan arrived intact from Clyde's youth team. Clyde made it clear they hadn't appreciated our raid. However, in the world of football, money opens doors that reputations alone cannot. Since Clyde wasn't willing to match our salary offers, we added what I hoped were a dynamic duo of gifted talent to work with our young squad.

Billy Brawley, who recommended Ferguson to us originally was ecstatic upon hearing the news of our latest staff additions. “It's about damn time we got some more Scotsmen in this squad.” Then he blitzed through the rest of training like a highlander hell bent on destruction. His actions pleased me.

The politics of football have an uncanny ability to even out over time. Whether it happens on the pitch in the form of penalties which decide match outcomes or in the office regarding transfer strategies, Neil and I wasted little time bolstering Blyth's roster by signing Calvin Boateng, our 16 year old midfielder to a contract through 2011. We also signed his fellow U-18 teammate, Mark Knowles, to play defender for us through 2010. Since it appeared both of them would be forced into senior team action this season, we wanted to lock them into a long-term deal with us before other clubs did their own poaching.

Bobby had also made strides bringing in some new faces to Croft Park. Simon Evans was slated to be our new number one and if his confidence at the small press-conference was any indication of his abilities, he'll be a fine addition between the sticks. He ambitiously declared that he was thrilled to be part of our setup and vowed he'd become our starting keeper as soon as training had begun.

Therefore, we made sure to land a second keeper, Lee Crockett, just in case Simon couldn't fulfill his lofty declarations. Neil reasoned that if he was going to talk a big game, then he'd have to walk it too. Adding some competition for the starting spot might make both of them better in the long run. I couldn't agree more and were delighted by his arrival yesterday.

Luke Webster was the only defender we could convince to come to us this season despite our thorough efforts and he was scheduled to arrive tomorrow. For him, moving to Blyth was a promotion of sorts. He'd played solidly on the reserves last season with his former club in the Blue Square North, but we signed him out of desparation as a stopgap for our extremely charitable defense and hoped he was only a victim of team politics instead of devoid of talent.

Our last transfer target, Paul Taylor, the prolific striker from recently relegated Vauxhall, tempted me like a foxhound who just caught the scent and had begun his chase. It took all of Robin's militant skill to knock some rational sense into me because Vauxhall agreed to sell him to us for 63K. I reasoned that the money would be well invested as he would easily score another 20+ goals this season. Adding his goals to those of Bell and Dale would practically guarantee us a spot in the Blue Square North next season barring a catastrophic series of events. Robin argued that we'd just spent 40K in transfer fees importing coaching talents and I'd become Don Quixote if I went after Paul right now, especially considering the club's finances. I rebutted that Paul was eager to join us. She rebutted that Bobby was eager to remain in business.

At the end of much deliberation and self-flagellation, I resolved finally to break off negotiations with Vauxhall for the striker's services. Bobby had been very frank with me that scrounging up with the last 40K was pushing our coffers to its limits. Asking for another 63K in emergency funds on top of that for a single player, despite his proven track record, was too risky a chance indeed, especially since it meant sinking us into the red deeper than the club's overall value.

Paul's wrenching final words made it especially difficult to feel confident I'd made a correct, rational decision. He said to me, “Look Copper, I'd love to come to Blyth and be a Spartan warrior and all, but if I'm not gonna score goals for you, I'm gonna score them against you.” I believed him and hoped our competition couldn't signed him.

With these thoughts still fresh in my mind, the sun finally crested the horizon on its path upwards into the eastern sky. I moved from my place in the shaded stand and walked slowly toward the center circle of the pitch. Once inside it, I stood and faced the sun with my arms stretched outward to bathe in all of its young glow.

While I waited for the sun's warmth to seep in, I recalled our First Round Draw for the Setanta Shield. Blyth had drawn Hucknall, a team who'd beaten us both times last season. If we made it past them, we'd face Histon from the Blue Square South in the Second Round.

Despite our Cup opposition, I'd still need to find a way to earn six points against league opposition as well as turn a profit in August.

Pondering the daunting task of league play made my hands clammy and my stomach turn somersaults. I tried to wet my cotton mouth by swallowing repeatedly, but had as much success doing that as the oddsmakers predicted for Blyth's final position this season in the league.

Recently relegated Tamworth was 6-4 odds for bouncing immediately back up to the Blue Square Premier. Just a fraction behind them, Stalybridge, Harrogate, and AFC Telford all challenged for the championship spot at 7-4 odds. Hinckley and Burton trailed behind them favored at 2-1 odds for their respective promotional campaigns. Trailing much farther behind the pack was us at 1000-1. When the players heard this a foul mood of doom spread throughout the training grounds like a toxic gas. We did our level best to corral the negativity, but already, the angry village hordes began gathering to witness me ride out of town with my tail tucked between my legs.

Everywhere I went since the odds were published, suddenly hushed silences preceded me. Fortunately, the townspeople were politely restrained when we met face-to-face. Unfortunately, the Internet's privacy paved the way for them to flood my email with hate.

The only thing worse than our odds were the league rules preventing me from betting on my own team gaining promotion. I had worked it out that if I bet a single month's wages and then combined it with a season-long run of minor miracles, I could buy the club outright from Bobby after collecting my winnings. Neil's jokes in the staff room regarding how he'd invest his winnings helped to lighten the mood, but didn't help Ferguson and McMillan feel confident about leaving their secure club in Scotland for one in our dire predicament.

However, as I watched the sun rise inevitably higher, I resolved to take comfort in its unwavering responsibility to give each day a new beginning. I'd heard it said that the night is darkest just before dawn. Well, my time in Blyth so far felt like I'd just survived one hellishly long horrifying night just in time to feel the leading edge of the light begin to beat off the last tendrils that had wrapped themselves in a stranglehold around my throat.

Since all of our staffing was finally in place, the optimism I felt regarding the state of our affairs seemed to chase away the pessimism that had rooted itself deep inside my body following our dismal run of twelve matches without a win. With the prospect of affiliating ourselves with Middlesbrough on the cusp of fulfillment, I wished we could attract a few of their extremely talented younger players to plug the abundant and gaping holes our inexperienced team offered our fans this season.

Later today, we'd face AFC Hornchurch for a friendly. I prayed our new players and staff made a good impression on the supporters, especially the loyal ones who'd always come to cheer their favorite club in the stand where I stood earlier waiting to watch the sun rise resolutely once more in the east.

[O\'Hara_fan]

Nice, things are turning around in fortune. But you always put some negative bits in to spice it up Love it.

[weeeman27bob]

I think the is one of the best, if not the best, story circulating round the forums today. It's your story that builds up the desire inside me to write a story ( that is before i think of the huge amount of effort involved)

[copperhorse21]

O'Hara Fan: Glad you're loving Copper's struggles and successes.

weeman27Bob: Wow! Fantastic feedback. If it's stories like this that inspire you to write your own, it's comments like yours that inspire me to continue writing. Thank you very much and I'm pleased you're enjoying it so much.

This is a bit longer than usual. I hope its length isn't too long.

Chapter 51

Saturday, 19 July 2008, Blyth v AFC Hornchurch, Croft Park

Robin greeted me with open arms and luscious lips immediately upon my return. Then she said, “That took longer than I expected. Everything okay?”

Receiving her unconditional support during crucial times was something to which I'd grown accustomed from my wife. Today was no exception. “Yes, it is okay. Honest.”

“Good.” She placed my plate down gently on our table in front of me before joining me. “Copper, are you superstitious about your thirteenth match in charge?”

“I don't think so, but you've been watching me. Am I?”

“No, but you've definitely been under some pressure and it's starting to preoccupy you. For the moment, however, it's still under control. But I'd love it best of all if you can prevent it from spilling over like the end of last season.”

Briefly, I remembered last season's final push when she still taught in Liverpool and I struggled to keep Blyth from sinking and the players from rallying a mutiny. I'd succeeded in alienating her when I cut her out of my life. My tunnel vision had almost cost me my marriage and I vowed to her that I'd do better this season. So far, I had honored my vow, but Blyth's first win under my captaincy still eluded me like the great whale in Moby Dick.

I put my fork down beside my half-eaten omelet and looked directly at her. “Robin, you mean more to me than Blyth even though I'm falling in love with it here, despite all the obstacles I've faced.”

She beamed.

“So, which of your new keepers is getting the nod today?”

“They'll both play, but I'm still struggling to decide. My heart tells me to start Evans, but my head says Crockett. It's these kinds of decisions involving team politics that I still struggle to overcome. As we move closer to 30 August, the pressure to make the right decision increases because I have less time to recover from my mistakes.”

This time she put her fork down and looked at me. “Copper, this pressure is something you will always face. You've got to make a policy for how you will make your decisions and then inform the players of it. Once you do that, all the involved parties can assume their share of the responsibility involved with that part of the decision making process.”

“What good will it do to tell them how I go about selecting my team? Don't I give up my authority when I do that?”

“It seems that way on the surface, but the undercurrents still reflect your authoritative stamp. Right now, they don't know what to expect from you, from the staff, or from each other. This turmoil is devastating. They feel completely out of control with all the crap going down at the club and they need something into which they can sink their teeth. You've got to give over some part of the process to them so they can decide their own future.”

“That's a great point. Benitez's rotation policy at Liverpool allows everyone to know they'll get a chance to play. Wenger's cup policy at Arsenal allows the reserves and younger first teamers to play an important role in the earlier rounds of all cup tournaments so the first team can really focus their energy on league play. Capello's roster management policy for being named to a squad largely depends on a player's form at that particular moment of time, rather than the previous accolades they had earned.”

She interrupted me. “See? All of those coaches have achieved great success once they determined a policy for roster management. Why can't you make one and then ride it to success?”

Her kind words reassured me. Neil and I hadn't discussed this when it was just the two of us. Now, with all five of us working to make our team better, we'd need to resolve this issue soon so the players would have time to adjust before it was too late.

Robin's wonderful breakfast discussion added to the bright feelings I felt following my sunrise solitude.

I arrived at Croft Park refreshed and fully ready to take on AFC Hornchurch. When I got to my office, Bobby had posted a note on my horse indicating I was to call him on his cell phone as soon as I arrived.

I called him and he answered on the first ring.

“Copper, thanks for calling me. I'll be brief. Unfortunately, I won't be at today's match, as much as I'd like to be. I'm in Middlesbrough working the powers that be to persuade them to affiliate with us.”

“How are things going?”

“Thirty years ago, I'd have gotten more pleasure from boxing their ears in my vertically striped black and whites of Newcastle. Instead, based on our current circumstances, I find myself fawning over their Board of Directors in the vertically striped green and whites of my beloved Blyth. If I didn't love my club so damn much, I'd never be here.”

“I really appreciate what you're trying to do for me.”

“Copper, I'm not just doing it for you. I'm doing it for me too. No one likes to fail. If you go down, especially after we've just spent ourselves to the brink of insolvency, I'd be voted out of the board room as sure as you've struggled to adapt to the english way of football.”

“Well, regardless of your motivations, I'm glad it might happen. Any thoughts as to how it's going?”

“Let's just say, we'll all be watching the results of today's friendly with keen interest. Must go. Give 'em hell today.”

We hung up. I went to my office and waited nervously for the rest of the staff to arrive.

Fortunately, for the first time I could recall since arriving in April, all involved parties arrived punctually to the meeting.

It was our most productive one yet. Not only did we decide on today's starting lineup, but we also decided on match roster policy in the future. As a result, Crockett was starting in goal today, despite Evans' assertions to the media he was the man for the job.

It felt good to get that resolved so amicably and efficiently. We even had time leftover to discuss the potential benefits our affiliation with Middlesbrough might bring to our squad this season. All of us left my office charged up and ready for action.

Inside the dressing room, the players optimism at our most recent player and staff additions charged the atmosphere even more than usual. It felt like today was our best chance to claim a victory since this season started.

When it was time, my pre-match talk was simple and to the point. “Fellas, you've met our new arrivals and another is on our way tomorrow. When you go out there today, remember that we're all in this kettle together. We've got to work together and make our own unique flavor blend together with the others to make a good meal. Now who's hungry?”

I got a few chuckles, but most of them were bit confused by the unusual team talk. We'd soon find out if it affected their production.

AFC Hornchurch had won the kickoff and chose to have the sun in our eyes during the second half.

In front of about 140 locals, neither team claimed the momentum for the first twenty minutes. Finally, Boateng won a free kick and took it himself. His blistering shot headed for the upper far corner, but a brilliant save from their keeper kept it out. The keeper had landed awkwardly and it took him a moment to regain his lost breath, but we couldn't capitalize on his pain during the ensuing corner kick and headed it wide right of the goal.

Beastall, our center defender, was slow to react to the following incredibly long goal kick and was caught playing too far up the pitch. The ball sailed over his head and forced him into a footrace with Hornchurch's striker, Barker. Jordan Smith, our other DC, left his mark and raced back on an angle run to head off their attack. Crockett, eager to impress, raced out to the edge of his goal area. Barker got to the ball just a moment before all three of Blyth's defenders collapsed on him. He cut the ball back with such a deft individual maneuver that he beat all of them easily to pass it square across the open goal mouth to his teammate, Parkinson. He buried it and, just like that, we were down 1-nil.

Instinctively, I wanted to scream at all three of them for their horrid play, but my head remembered that they'd only trained together once and it was far too soon to jump on their throats for an early season mistake, especially during a friendly.

My choice paid dividends almost immediately. Blyth shook off the mistake and quickly regained the momentum lost from Hornchurch's counterattacking goal to hold possession of the ball. Bell had two good chances to score. The first was an open shot that he pushed wide past the goal mouth and his second shot hit the side netting, forcing a collective gasp out of the partisan crowd. Then our midfielder, Webster, just missed connecting on a beautiful pass to Bell who was unmarked in front of the open goal at the penalty spot.

In the dressing room at half-time, Blyth's mood was pleasantly good. Although we were still down during the match, we had outplayed Hornchurch and all of us seemed to think we'd score soon, staff included. I told them, “Relax out there. We've controlled the momentum so far. Keep it up and the victory will come. We can do this!”

In the second half, we continued to dominate possession for the opening twenty minutes. Dale hit the crossbar, but the ball deflected up and over the goal instead of down and in the goal. Howard, his partner up front following our first round of substitutions, beat his defender to create a 1 v 1 with Hornchurch's keeper. He felt the defensive pressure bearing down on him from behind and, in his youthful inexperience, he opted to sail a long shot just over the top of the goal. Following soon after that, Wright, another fresh substitute in the midfield, hit the side netting for our third very close shot of the second half.

Finally, we broke their defense during a free kick. Again, Boateng lined up behind the ball and lofted it onto the six yard line. Its tempting placement froze the opponent's keeper in no man's land and Wright slotted it home for the equalizer! The crowd and players cheered, but it quickly turned to howling catcalls after Steve Doran's official's whistle disallowed it for offsides.

Immediately, our players surrounded him to disagree with his call vehemently. Without instant replay available, I did the only thing I could to keep cool heads and called my last replacements off the bench to enter the match.

“Keep working the ball from the outsides in. Their keeper is weak at judging our crosses. He freezes and we can exploit that. You can do it. Show me.”

Five minutes later, new substitute Cragg sent in an outswinging corner kick to exploit this very weakness. Hornchurch's keeper had committed to his near post too soon and his mistake allowed Howard to settle the ball off his chest on the far post side before volleying it home into the open net to equalize the match legitimately in the 74th minute.

Having tied the match, our young players settled in and relaxed, much to my disappointment. I was powerless to make any more roster changes, but I could yell encouragement as loud as I could to keep up the attacking pressure.

Unfortunately, I seemed to motivate the wrong team and with only six minutes remaining in the match, our teenaged central defender, Mark Knowles, got muscled off the ball by Hornchurch's experienced striker who turned and beat Simon to give his team a much needed one goal lead.

Hornchurch's goal deflated our spirits, but I threw all caution to the wind and called for a 4-2-4 in hopes of stealing a late equalizer. It almost worked immediately on the ensuing kickoff. Wright's shot hit the top of the near corner post before deflecting out wide to hit the side netting. Half the ground thought it was in and the collective gasp signaled the match's intensity.

The near miss inspired us and we pressed Hornchurch even harder to equalize. During injury time, Blyth forced three more collective gasps from the crowd with close shots, of which one more hit the crossbar, but none of them traveled between the posts and we lost the friendly by a heartbreaking score of 2-1.

On my way off the pitch to the dressing room, Fenton accosted me again with his two familiar henchmen hovering as his rear guard.

“When the hell are you going to learn that you can't depend on boys to do a man's job, especially when a man's job hangs in the balance?”

I challenged him right back without even blinking. “When are you going to learn that you don't work here any more?”

“As far as I'm concerned, my job ends as soon as you lose yours, you Yank wan**r!”

Baker walked up behind me to form my rear guard and hollered out, “Hell Fenton, still looking for a way to be a man? Maybe you want to step up and discuss your opinion more personally?”

Fenton backed down from Neil's challenge only slightly and scoffed, “I don't need to discuss this, Copper's atrocious record of thirteen matches without a win shouts loud and clear that he's incompetent.”

“Hell, asshole, he's more competent than you'll ever be.” Baker placed his hand on my back and started to escort me away from the confrontation. “We'll be be counting on you to be here next match, you hear?”

“You can count on it. I'll be delighted to escort Horse out of town personally. Hell, I'd even help him back his bags. How much longer before I start. A week? Face it Baker, he's a buffoon!”

I started to turn back to face Fenton directly, but Baker's forceful presence forced me toward the dressing room. “Leave him Copper! Focus on the task at hand. Channel your hatred and use it to motivate you when you're tired. He ain't worth it!”

By now, the two new Scots arrived and all three of them hustled me along to the dressing room before I could make up my own mind.

I was extremely grateful to all of them for rallying around me and I told them so as we entered the din of the locker area.

“Don't mind him, we will make a difference. You'll see.”

I sure hoped they were right.

[Thepathtoamen]

good stuff mate, keep it up. can't wait for the next chapter. put it up soon!!! :-)

[copperhorse21]

thepathtoamen: Thanks. I'm glad you didn't have to wait too long.

Chapter 52

Tuesday, 21 July 2008, My Office, Croft Park

“Copper, you secretive son-of-a-bitch!"

Neil rushed across my office floor to slam down the morning paper on top of my desk in front of me scattering my scouting reports onto the floor and forcing a small scream out of Robin, who'd been surprised by his outburst.

“What's this?” I asked him.

“What's this my ass! Been holding out on me, have you? Keeping me on a need-to-know basis and all that?”

I saw through his gruff exterior and laughed. “Neil, I assure you that I'm as clueless to this as you.” Above the fold of the sports section I read the headline, “Middlesbrough Announce Affiliation With Blyth”

Neil laughed too and clapped me on the shoulder. “My heavens, you are a lucky bastard, aren't you. Have you got the luck of the Irish, or what? I couldn't believe my eyes this morning. I knew Bobby was trying to work the deal, but for real, I never expected him to seal it. Bloody fortunate, I tell you.”

Come to think of it, Bobby hadn't even told me the news. He'd informed me before our last friendly against AFC Hornchurch that this negotiations was particularly sticky to work out because he'd been a lifelong 'Toon supporter. Considering the rivalry between the two clubs, Bobby had swallowed some crow of his own to make it happen. I remembered that he never called me back like he said he would, but had forgotten about it because I'd been so wrapped up with Blyth's resident venomous snake in the grass, Graham Fenton.

“I've got to admit it, Neil. Things are looking up a bit.”

“A bit?” Neil exclaimed. “Are you out of your mind? Things are shining so bright, I'm gonna need sunglasses to protect my eyes.”

Robin had come over and finished reading the article. Then she intervened with her own line of questioning. “Neil, please enlighten my ignorance.”

He beamed and then he practically begged. “Do you have any more of your wonderfully delicious homemade muffins? I'm craving for them near nightly ever since you started working here.”

“You're incredible. You're lucky I have one left.”

“Excellent, I'll take it.” Neil started to rub his hands together greedily while Robin moved to our mini-fridge to get his muffin.

She came back and held it out before him, “Sit.” she said in a commanding voice while holding the muffin close to her heart.

“I beg your pardon?” His greedy expression was replaced by confusion at her tone.

“If you're going to go beg like a puppy dog for treats, then you're going to have to earn it. Now, sit and spill your guts. What's the deal with Middlesbrough going to do for us?”

Understanding Robin's playfulness, Neil sat down quickly and dished the dirt.

“Getting affiliated with a club in the Premiership is a fantastic opportunity because it will allow us to bring in players to our club whom wouldn't even give us the time of day normally. Middlesbrough spends more money on scouts than our club is worth. These scouts scour Europe and the globe unearthing all kinds of talent we don't have the finances either to find or to support even if we somehow managed to find them ourselves.”

Robin asked, “So, how's it a win-win? What can we offer Middlesbrough? Our training facilities are minimal at best.”

“Good question. You're right about the facilities, but we offer their players the chance to shine as they play before our crowds. Developing talent requires more than fancy facilities and a staff member available for every player. It requires an environment where the players are expected to learn the intangibles required for stardom at leagues more competitive than ours.”

“And what are those intangibles?” I asked eager to learn more.

“Developing their leadership skills, coping with the burden of expectation our supporter's will have for them after they arrive, and the chance to mature in a smaller community away from the spotlight of big city life.”

“Wow! I didn't know our role was so important.” I exclaimed.

Neil responded, “It's more than important, it's absolutely vital!”

Satisfied with his performance, Robin tossed him the muffin, which he snapped out of the air and stuffed whole into his mouth. Without waiting to swallow, he spoke and chewed simultaneously. “A club of Middlesbrough's reputation might not have wagon loads of money to waste as do the Big Four, so they do a lot of background research on the clubs with whom they affiliate. They don't want to make a mistake on a crappy club and send out potential talent to have it remain that way at the end of the season. Typically, they pay a fee to the club for these services and expect results.”

“Excellent, because we can use the money.” Then my computer beeped to indicate an email had just arrived in my mailbox. I looked at the notification to see that it was from Bobby.

“Would you speak of the devil?” I muttered out loud.

“What?” Both of them asked.

“It's from Bobby.”

“What the hell are you waiting for? Open the frigging thing and read it to us. Come on!” Neil ordered.

Opening Bobby's email, I scanned it quickly for sensitive issues before I read aloud,

“Copper, by now you've probably read the

papers to see the rewards of my latest harvest.

No, I didn't sell my soul to the Devil, but

it felt pretty darn close. This deal with them

is our last gasp Copper. If this doesn't work

out, then we're both finished. Pardon my

doom and gloom, but it's the truth.

Anyway, even though we didn't win, Gareth

and his Board were pleased by our efforts.

They told us they are especially encouraged

by our newest staff additions. They indicated

they'd conducted their own research and

deemed us worthy of their investment.

They have indicated they are willing to send us

two players on season long loans. Those young

men are Seb Hines, a central defender, and also

Tom Craddock, a striker.

Tell the staff and captains and lets get about

making the new lads feel welcomed here.

How green is your thumb, Copper?

“That's all he wrote folks.”

Then, I turned to Neil and said, “Well, it looks like Christmas came early for both of us. You've now got your essential defender and I've been gifted my luxurious striker.”

Neil could hardly contain his excitement. “Yes, Copper, it has indeed.” Suddenly, he bound up from his chair. “Robin, as ever, your snack was delicious. Thank you.”

“You're welcome, Neil. I'll be sure to have two next time.”

Neil paused outside my door and then rubbed his hand on my nameplate.

“What are you doing Neil?” I asked.

“Hoping some of your good luck rubs off onto me.”

Everyone laughed then I added, “Go on, get out of here you sly dog.”

He did, but not until he sounded three sharp barks before he bound away the short distance to his own office.

[tenthreeleader]

Plant those Boro boys and watch 'em grow! Great job!

[Thepathtoamen]

well done. good update keep them coming!

[Barty08]

With a new job I am now only online for a few hours every other weekend.

However, this story is still an essential part of those ever-shortening internet hours.

Hooked as ever....

Barty :-)

[Todorojoz]

I miss the chapter a day times before the forum issues... This story is so great, I just want to see what happens!

[copperhorse21]

Wow folks, you sure wrote some very inspiring comments! I loved reading them. I'm glad to be back and hope you enjoy the new chapter.

Chapter 53

Wednesday, 23 July 2008, My Office, Croft Park

I threw the local paper down on the table in front of the staff. The headline read, “Ashton United Ease to Victory 5-2 Over Blyth at Croft Park”.

Awkward postural shifts signalled they understood my mood. Still remaining winless after fourteen matches annoyed me almost as much as putting up with Fenton's antagonistic remarks on my way to the dressing room.

Fenton's comments could be tolerated more easily if we didn't give him so much ammunition to use with each successive match. Fielding a squad with a backbone would help, but against Ashton, we rolled over in a manner similar to our massive defeat to Kettering. Besides, it was embarrassing to be escorted off the pitch by my staff for fear I'd fight with a fan on my way.

“Anyone want to spin our defeat into something positive?” I spat into the empty void above the conference table.

Baker answered first, “Hell, Copper, it's not nearly as bad as you're making it out to be.”

“Really? Giving up a one goal lead at half-time to finish up down by three is a positive thing?” I stared angrily at him wishing he'd say something more so I could bite his head off whole.

Baker answered my unspoken challenge with, “Hell, when was the last time we scored a goal in the first three minutes of a match? Also, Craddock, our new striker notched a goal on his debut, despite being doubled for most of his run out there.”

He was right on both accounts. Dale, our ever-resilient team leader, capitalized immediately on a fine header and Craddock dribbled between two Ashton defenders to score about twenty minutes in to make the score 2-0. An Ashton United counter attack broke our defense down five minutes later before we adjusted defensively to go in at the half leading 2-1.

“True. But we played like utter crap in the second half and allowed four goals in sixteen minutes to finish up the match. For crying out loud, the final whistle was nearly drowned out by the whistles from our home support.”

This time, John McMillan, my new assistant spoke up. “Mate, those goals were given up when the squibs went in. Our first eleven held them for the first 65. Besides, the only we sustained was to our pride.”

“You sound pretty confident for watching your second match.” I challenged. My temper was full steam ahead down a road where no good could come, but I recognized I couldn't stop myself either.

McMillan ordered me, “You might want to check yourself, Mate. It might be my second match here, but it ain't nearly my second match. Near as I can tell, I've managed a fair bit more than fourteen matches too. So maybe you better stop your shouting and start listening to what we have to say? Last time I checked, Clyde's a fair bit more competitive than this club is at the moment.”

McMillan wouldn't back down and his truth stung. I took it, however, and spouted off, “Well, it's not your ass riding the line here. We're 1000-1 odds for promotion and I've got 4 weeks to find a way to scrounge up six points and a profit. So cut me some slack, Jack.”

“I'm not cutting you any slack, Horse. Near as I can tell, you get paid a damn good wage considering your experience. Quit your whining and accept the pressure as part of the job. If you can't hack the heat, maybe you need to get out of the kitchen?”

“I don't need to get out of the kitchen, I need a squad that can play defense.”

Baker interjected, “Hell, both of you, we put up a good 65 minutes and we need to go from there. Besides, Copper, you've turned a corner both on the pitch and off it. Don't f**k it up now because you let your temper get the best of you. Fenton's a tos**r. McMillan's not. So, stifle it.”

As usual, Neil made a good point. After a few more tense moments while I simmered down enough to actually think, I finally said, “Sorry, John. I spoke out of turn. I'm trying to curb my temper, but I guess I still need to do more work.”

“No sweat, Mate. Arguing can be good, as long as it's done in the right place and for the right reasons. Near as I can tell, behind closed doors in staff meetings better than pitch side in front of the lads, you hear?”

I acknowledged that I had, thankful that he took my outburst in stride relatively speaking. In my head, I gave him kudos for stepping up to me considering I was his boss, even if I was out of line and he'd been here less than a week. I liked his fighting spirit and hoped it would rub off on our players, especially our youngest ones.

But it still left me with a mighty daunting proposition. How in the world were we going to find a way to get six points?

[tenthreeleader]

The man is back! Great to see you posting again!

[O\'Hara_fan]

Its returned! Fantastic, woo, yay.

[Thepathtoamen]

good stuff.....I have been itching for an update. :-)

[copperhorse21]

Folks, thank you very much for the positive comments regarding my return. I've had more time to write than I expected. Here's another chapter for you.

tenthreeleader: Thank you very much for your permission. I'm extremely grateful for it.

Chapter 54

Monday, 28 July 2008, My Office, Croft Park

Robin entered my office with some hot tea and warm biscuits. I'd given up drinking coffee at her suggestion. She said it made me too irritable. I couldn't argue her point. Ever since I took this job, I've not been my normal self from back in the States. Sometimes, my mood fluctuations even took me by surprise. It's been fortunate that I've not driven off my staff completely.

It felt like I was falling into the trap of becoming what others thought of me, instead of what I believed myself to be. Since my arrival at Blyth, I'd been called an asshole more times than I could count. In fact, I'd joked with Robin that if they'd just toss me a couple quid as payment for their ill thoughts, our money troubles would be solved. Putting up with their dirty looks and or with them avoiding eye contact with me altogether were also the rule in my daily life away from the club. It felt hopeless to fight against their beliefs so I had given in and stopped frequenting the neighborhood establishments and begun isolating myself more and more in the only safe haven I could seem to find, my office at Croft Park.

Each time I passed through my office door, I'd paused and rubbed my hand across Bobby's gift. Feeling its polished surface the copper plating felt heavenly smooth and cool in contrast to the daily barbs the outside world offered as heated inspiration. I longed for those optimistic feelings I'd first felt immediately after Bobby hired me as manager.

Today was a perfect example of my daily life at the moment. On my way to the office, I'd found a note pinned underneath my windshield wiper. Essentially, it said I should sod off, go back to the states, and leave the managing to a someone who really knew what they were doing. They were kind enough to suggest where I should go once I left Blyth, but it wasn't back to the States. I tossed it into Robin's lap for her to read and I drove slowly to work trying to forget what I'd read.

At an intersection, I'd waited for the light to change. A couple of schoolboys wearing our team's colors were headed on their way to somewhere and noticed me behind the wheel. I smiled and waved at them when they pointed at me. But in response, they spouted obscenities and one of them kicked the front end of my car. Then they noticed Robin and shouted an apology, “Sorry 'bout that, didn't see you sitting next to your loser of a husband.”

Robin jumped out of the car and shouted back at them, “Where'd you learn your manners boys? Your mother proud of you for acting like that? Come now, grow up. I don't see you going out for the team.”

Her open challenge surprised them and they scuttled away quickly out of harms way. However, after they'd moved a safe distance away, they turned again to holler, “Try out for the team? Wouldn't dream of it as long as your husband's in charge. Maybe when Blyth gets a real manager.” Then they laughed together before starting again on their way.

She climbed back inside before slamming the door shut. Loyally, she offered me encouragement, “They're ignorant school boys. Ignore them.” but it was too late. Their damage had been done already.

I drove the rest of the way to work in silence, brooding about the upcoming week and ignoring all her attempts to cheer me up.

Sitting at my office desk I had read through my emails and had just finished replying to my mother, who'd asked if I was still having fun coaching. I'd smoothed over the facts and responded that it was different than I'd expected, but my staff was really good to work with. Then I answered that we'd know a lot more about how long we were staying in England at the end of August.

That's when Robin had entered to set the morning snack tray on the edge of my desk. I thanked her for her efforts and bit into a warm biscuit. The jelly's sweet goodness exploded in my mouth and chased away the bitterness from this morning's commute. I took a second heavenly bite and noticed Robin remained unmoved in front of me, her hands placed squarely on her hips and her jaw set firm.

I knew she needed to say something important and was waiting for me to acknowledge her. I did. “Do you have something on your mind?” I asked.

“You bet I do. You're not alone. You know that, don't you?”

“Robin, I know I'm not alone. I've got you, Bobby, and the rest of my coaching staff supporting what I'm attempting to do here for this club.”

She interrupted, “No, you missed my point. You're not the only American anymore managing in England.”

I stopped chewing a moment and tried to figure out where she was going with this. “I know that.”

“Well? Are you going to do anything about making contact with him? You wrote each other once before when he was in Italy. Why not make contact with him again?”

I sat stunned. Surely, she meant well, but she didn't quite understand how things worked with managerial relationships. Reading was a massive club. They were becoming heavyweights in the Premiership with all the trappings and facilities to support their operations. We were an obscure club who were lightweights in our part-time league. There was no way a Premiership manager would correspond regularly with me, even if he was an American.

“Robin,” I said as delicately as I could, “Rob Ridgway is a very successful manager. He took his Italian side, Padova, to dizzying heights in the league in his first season at the helm. His career has taken off and he doesn't have the time to talk to the likes of me.”

Robin waited until I stopped before she asked, “Did Rob tell you that himself?”

“No, but I just know.”

“You just know? Sort of like you just know what will happen this season? Sort of like you knew Bobby wouldn't want to hire you back when you first met him in that Liverpool club? Sort of like you knew Middlesbrough would never affiliate with us? Sort of like you knew, I'd never stick with you long enough for us to get married?”

Her examples stung, especially her last one. I recalled the time when I tried to break off our relationship because she was so talented, smart, and inspiring that I felt she could do better off than being involved with a guy like me. Of course, she got angry with me, but ended our relationship on the spot. It took me just three days to come to my senses and I practically begged her to take me back because I couldn't stand being without her. She willingly did and the rest is history and a very pleasant one at that.

“Look, Robin, you make a good point. I'll take it under consideration to write Rob an email. But right now, I'm not in the mood. I'd rather worry about who we're going to bring to our club when no one wants to sign a contract with us.”

“Fine, that's all I can ask. Just remember, pride comes before the fall. If you don't write him, it's because you're a prideful coward. Dunn and the Board were prideful too before you came along. Remember what happened to them?”

“You made your point. They got sacked and I was hired to do this wonderful job in this tight-knit family community where they've rallied behind me and the club to spur us on to greater heights.”

Robin spun on her heels and headed for the door while I continued to spout off. She paused and turned back, “Save your sarcasm for someone else. McMillan might have been onto something when he gave you his advice about it getting too hot in the kitchen. You're an ass!”

“Yes, but I'm your ass.” I plowed forward.

“Stuff it! I'm not in the mood.” And she slammed my door behind her leaving me to stew by myself.

[SCIAG]

I like the way you've incorparated Rob Ridgeway in this

Your writing style is very good.

[tenthreeleader]

Watch out for that Ridgway character. I hear he's nothing but trouble.

Well written, friend!

[Thepathtoamen]

I hope there isn't a divorce on the cards here!!!

[copperhorse21]

Folks, thanks for the feedback. I'm glad you commented about the twist put into this story. We'll see how it works out in the future. For now, however, you're patience with my family's schedule has been rewarded.

Please, read on.

Chapter 55

02 August 2008, Bobby's Office, Croft Park

“How are things with you Copper?” Bobby asked me as I sat down at the design table set up for us facing the stadium from his window.

“As well as could be expected, I guess.” I answered as he sat down beside me on a second chair.

“Have things cooled off since last week?”

Bobby's presence was everywhere at his club when something seemed to reflect my managerial immaturity. Whenever I'd had an issue with the players, he seemed to know about it and bring it up in casual conversation as if he'd been there. Now, my latest altercation, this time with the new staff was brought up. It wasn't that I minded his awareness, but I did wonder why he wouldn't say anything about how well I handled Fenton's crap with me following each match.

“We've achieved a much clearer vision of what our respective roles are at this point in time.” I answered with as much ambiguity as I dared. I'm sure his loyal friend, Neil Baker, had kept him in the loop and the last thing I needed was for him to fret over spilt milk.

“Good. As long as we all have a clear vision of what our roles are here, that's a good thing.” His own clever ambiguity was not lost on me either. He was my boss and he had a business to run. As long as he felt I was a capable manager, he'd defend me. However, my time was running out and even his Chairman's role couldn't protect me forever, especially with a finicky Board hoping to see some real return on their investment in the club this season.

“Obviously today's match against Middlesbrough will be a very difficult one.” I offered.

“True. However, it is our first sellout in a while. The fans will be looking forward to seeing their stars on our pitch. Although, keeping it close can only help us keep our fans coming back for the regular season. We need the money. We've lost another 60K in July. Fortunately, today's sellout will help us to earn almost all that back.

The friendly was crammed into the schedule at the last minute following the announcement of our affiliation with Middlesbrough. The match surely would draw fans and their money to our stands, but the Premier side's quality would most likely overwhelm us and provide still another negative blow to our team's overall morale.

With just a week remaining before league play, we needed all the positive experiences we could muster before facing Harrogate in our home opener on 09 August. Our staff had joked at the schedule makers because we opened our season against the very same team who'd been responsible for keeping us in the league with a late goal to win their own match at the end of last season over the team, thus nullifying our own dismal battle at Kettering.

Bobby changed the subject. “Are our new players settling in well with the rest of the team?” Bobby asked me.

“I believe they are, although I hope they'll play better once the season is actually under way. Hines is a quality defender and Craddock seems to score at will during practice when Hines isn't marking him. However, they hadn't showed us much in their debut against Ashton United.”

“Give them time. They'll settle in. Same as Luke Webster. You've got to remember to nurture them.”

I chuckled at his comment, but understood that his interest in gardening carried over to everyday life here at the club.

“I've been pleased at how selfless Dale and Bell have both been this season, especially since Craddock's a striker.” I commented.

“Good, it shows that you've picked good captains to help lead this team forward in our new direction.”

“I agree. However, they aren't used to facing quality players like Hines in practice every night. They do get frustrated that they can't score as easily. I hope it won't affect their confidence.”

“If I know Dale like I think I do, I doubt it will phase him much over the long-term. He's a competitor and will get better as a result.”

“What about Phil Bell, our vice captain? Surely, he's our third string striker. Are you sure he won't bail on us?”

“He might. That's why you've got to keep working on him in training. He needs to know his role and be expected to fulfill it according to your level of expectations. If you let that slide and fail to keep your players in the loop, you'll lose their support first, then you'll lose them. We need to keep every player we can, considering we struggle to attract players to come here.”

“Well, it's tough to do. Since they're part-time players, they don't spend much time at the club. When they finally arrive to training, their time is crammed to the roof with the new training drills we're adding to their programs.”

“You're right Copper, however, if you don't find a way to make it happen, you'll also find out real quick how tough it is being out of a job.”

I changed the subject. I didn't want to think about being out of work. I'd finally felt like I belonged here, but felt the pressure to succeed. Taking it out on Robin was pointless because she gave it right back to me.

“So, what do you think the score will be today?”

“I don't make predictions and neither should you. Why go into a match already defeated? You never know what will happen in this game. If Havant and Waterloo can score two against Liverpool, then surely, we have the same opportunity to score against Middlesbrough.”

Chastised, I knew he was right.

[Thepathtoamen]

If H & W can score 2 against the 'pool, surely you ccan sure 3? :-)

[copperhorse21]

thepathtoamen, thanks again for weighing in. You'll have to read on to discover if we replicated H&W's real-life achievement.

Chapter 56

Sunday, 03 August 2008, Bobby's Office, Croft Park

Just yesterday, I'd been in Bobby's office to discuss my latest month's progress. Now, he'd called me very early in the morning and asked me to come in for another meeting as soon as possible.

His voice was audibly strained and official, almost distant. My throat tightened and my stomach churned as I processed his formal request. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes for yet another time to clean the last bit of crusties out enough for me to see the clock and sat up on the floor. It was before 6 AM.

Robin had resumed her place in front of our computer, a cup of hot tea by her side. The apartment air was heavy and moist against my skin. Her fingers danced across the keyboard quickly and she looked at me with a warm smile.

“Yes, Bobby, I'll be in to meet with you very soon. I'm going to get a quick bite before I leave.”

“Skip it Copper, breakfast will be on me today. I want you here on the double.”

“Yes, Sir. I'll be there on the double.” and hung up the phone.

Robin stopped typing immediately and her expression quickly changed to mirror my own tension. She stood up and crossed the room to wrap her arms tightly around me. “Copper, I love you. No matter what I say to you, you know that, don't you?”

“Yes, Robin, I do.”

She kissed me tenderly on my mouth then whispered, “Go brush your teeth before you go. You stink.”

I chuckled inside at her choice of words. Yesterday, I'd heard quite a bit of talk like that during the “friendly” against Middlesbrough. Of course, most of it was from Blyth's home support. Considering we had entered half-time down 6-nil, I couldn't argue with them. The final score was a the complete thrashing of 8-1, but the match statistics really told the story. We had only managed 3 shots the entire game. However, our seventeen year old forward, Mark Howard, had scored on our only attempt at their goal. Unfortunately, Mido's amazing technical clinic of six goals in the first 45 minutes cut such a wide swath of total destruction that Mark's achievement went largely uncelebrated and would be quickly forgotten.

In the end, Blyth was outmatched and outclassed by Middlesbrough in almost every category found on the pitch, save sportsmanship. This was the only category in which Blyth had held an advantage. First, when we volunteered to trade dressing rooms for the day. Second when my staff showed professional restraint each time as we passed by Fenton and his howling entourage on the way to the visiting dressing rooms.

Giant killers we were not. Havant & Waterlooville we were not. Rafa Benitez I was not. Not, not, not. As I drove toward Croft Park, I feared the next “not” was Blyth's manager I was not.

When I pulled into the club's parking lot I saw a single police car waiting outside. Why would Bobby need security for me? I would leave quietly. I didn't need an officer to escort me off the grounds.

I pulled up and slowly got out of my car, heavy with grief at the news Bobby was sure to tell me.

Bobby met me at the entrance. “Copper, I'm glad you could make it. The constable wants to ask you a few questions. Try not to be alarmed by what you'll see."

Alarmed? What for? I entered the building and everything seemed fine. It wasn't until I made it to my office when I finally saw the reason Bobby had asked me to come so quickly.

My copper plated horse was spray painted and curse words were sprayed across the door spewing ethnic epithets. The words themselves didn't shock me, but the fact they were actually present did.

The officer met me outside my door and greeted me officially. “You're Copper Horse, I presume?”

“Yes.”

“I have a few questions for you. Will you please step this way?” He gestured down the hall towards Bobby's office and away from my own.

“What's wrong with using mine?” I asked and tried to move past his person.

He blocked me and replied, “I suggest, you don't go in right now. It's a crime scene.”

“It's my office. Now let me past.” I challenged.

I tried to push past him, but he hip checked me into the frame of the door. “Sir, please, I insist.”

Before he could block my view completely, I stole a look past him. Instantly, I recoiled and covered my mouth as I turned away quickly, both shocked and disgusted at the atrocity committed inside my office.

[weeeman27bob]

dun Dun DUNNN!

I have to say I love this story. One of the very best on the forums.

[tenthreeleader]

Shame on Southgate for running up the score. Hopefully the office is at least fixable. As well as anything else affected.

[copperhorse21]

weeeman27bob: thanks for the very kind words. I'm delighted you enjoy it so much.

tenthreeleader: Southgate needed all the goals he could get, besides, the team's been a bit angry since Downing left the fold...

Chapter 57

Sunday, 03 August 2008, Administration Building, Croft Park

“It's absolutely despicable!” Bobby offered me in support. “We won't stand for this kind of behavior. It simply won't be tolerated.”

I tried to shake the image out of my mind, but couldn't. The fact that someone would break into our administration building to vandalize my office and leave behind randomly rendered horse parts piled on my desk was abhorrent on so many levels.

“Bobby, thanks for your support. I'm so sorry I brought this on you and Blyth. It is too late to change the fact that I'm hated around here. Really, I should just leave. It's the best thing for the club.” I turned and started to walk away from him to head out of the building and on toward the rest of my life. I wanted to put this experience behind me as fast as I could because it was simply too much to bear.

Outside, the warm, moist air stuck to me like a spiderweb. I couldn't shake it off and wiping it away didn't help me either. Bobby followed me out and raced ahead of me to my car.

“Don't quit! Then the bastards have won.”

“Bobby, with all due respect, it's quite clear I'm not wanted. It's quite clear that your club would be better off with someone who's English, or at the very least, someone who hails from the UK region.”

He slammed his hand against the car door. “Do you think this is about you being an American?” He shouted.

The policeman stood near and asked, “Is everything square?”

Bobby turned to the officer. “Yes, quite. Thank you. Now, if you don't mind, would you please give us a couple of minutes in private. I'd be much obliged to you, Officer.”

The public servant nodded his acquiescence and said, “Very well, I'll return to the building to continue my investigation. I'll expect you both shortly.”

“Very well. We'll do that.” Bobby replied.

“Bobby, you've done more than I can ask of you. Your support has been incredible these few months. Unfortunately, the rest of the community doesn't share your same sentiment.”

“Thank you for your kind words, Copper. However, I disagree with you about the community.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Copper, you're a quality manager. Your humility and service to this club should be commended. It's not easy being a manager with part-time players, especially when many of them have given you short shrift since your arrival. However, you have to believe me when I tell you that you are making a positive difference in the life of this club, despite the results on the field.”

His words encouraged me, but their sincerity was incapable of breaking through the walls I had erected since first seeing the crime committed against me.

“Copper, please, come back inside. Let's talk with the Officer and set about a course of action to keep you at this club, at least until the end of the month like we agreed. I'm sure, given the current circumstances, that you'll see how you truly rate in the eyes of this community.”

This time it was my turn to nod my head in assent. “Very well, Bobby, I'll agree to that for the moment. However, I do want Robin to know about this as soon as possible.”

“Agreed.” Then, Bobby put his arm around my shoulder and walked with me back to his office to answer the officer's questions.

As we passed by my office, the policeman was on the phone requesting different services to come and conduct the rest of the investigation.

“Good to see you return, Gentlemen.” He offered when he finished his call and came into Bobby's office.

We sat down in the chairs Bobby offered us.

“Copper, do you have any ideas who would do this to you?”

“Graham Fenton, the former assistant manager whom I fired during the closed season a short time ago.” I immediately answered. Memories of our verbal altercations flooded back and reminded me of just how much I had grown to hate the man who had once been considered my right hand. Finally, he would get what he deserved.

“Graham Fenton has an alibi last night.” The officer replied just as quickly.

“How do you know that already? Don't you need to interview him or something before you make those kinds of declarations?”

The officer looked back at me unresponsively and calmly replied. “Sir, Mr. Bell has already informed me of the checkered past between both of you these past few weeks and we chased down this lead already.”

I was stunned. Bobby had known about this stuff, but chose not to address me about it? I was surprised and hurt by his apparent lack of support in the one area of my managerial life where I'd matured to the degree which the Board had indicated as part of my probationary status with the club.

Bobby must have read my expression and replied, “Copper, I'm sorry I haven't told you sooner. Yes, I was aware of what had been going on between the two of you. I should have said something sooner, but I remained silent because I felt that he'd eventually give up once you'd won your first match. I just hadn't expected to be still waiting this long for it to come. Please, forgive my insensitivity.”

I nodded affirmatively.

The officer continued. “Copper, Mr. Fenton's alibi checked out so quickly because when I called my office to report this, they informed me that he was already under police supervision for another crime he'd committed last night.”

“And what crime was that?” I asked.

When the officer refused to answer me, Bobby did instead. “Copper, Graham was thrown out of our Social Club late last night for fighting with another supporter. Graham was drunk at the time he got into the fight and was held overnight at the station per normal police policy.”

Inside, my heart rejoiced at the news. At least Graham was getting some punishment for the abuse he and his entourage heaped upon me. Unfortunately, this still left us back at our original question. Who had committed this hate crime against me?

[weeeman27bob]

Who had committed this hate crime against me?

£1.93 says it was either

a) Rob Ridgway

b) Robin

c) Bobby ( he probably has contacts with the police and is testing you...)

Apologies if i've ruined the suspense.

KUTGW

[tenthreeleader]

a) Rob Ridgway

Hey! He resents that!

Copper, your latest is a simply superb post. Well done.

[blowcrapup]

Just finished reading this and I'm hooked. I think it was the Groundsman unleashing his long planned revenge.

[denote]

My money's on Patty's dad Martin,he got confused about which club

Rob was managing,it was a 50/50 shot...

[salkster2102]

My money is on peter mcguire or however you spell it. He is jealous of american managers so copper is his next victim.

bet copper horse didnt have a great childhood

[Thepathtoamen]

Just finished reading this and I'm hooked. I think it was the Groundsman unleashing his long planned revenge.

I'm going with this theory.

Although I must add that this latest twist has got me even more hooked. lol! well done!

[copperhorse21]

All of you folks are making me laugh with the betting and the suggestions. It's nice to know you're having a good time reading this work in progress.

Thank you.

Chapter 58

Sunday, 03 August 2008, Croft Park

As soon as I had a moment's respite, I made a beeline for a private spot to call Robin on my mobile.

I scanned the office building for some space, but a police team had since arrived and begun documenting the crime scene. It seemed that at every turn, the people I met offered me their support and made promises to me I hoped they could keep.

My search took me outside and I headed to the Carlsberg Stand to make my phone call, but our Groundskeeper had arrived earlier than usual to clean up the mess from the previous day's overflowing fan support. The sellout crowd had left more work for him than usual.

I said, “Hello Tom.”

Tom nodded back at me and continued to go about his business without a word. His silent response reminded me that I'd never been on friendly terms with him since I'd torn up his pitch. I'd been so caught up in the squad's troubles and my own distress, that I hadn't realized how strained our relationship was until now as the awkwardness pressed itself against us.

Trying to be friendly, I offered, “Judging by the looks of things from yesterday, you've got quite a bit of work to do.”

He nodded his assent and replied, “I was thinking the same thing about you, too.”

His words stung. However, his comment was justified. The team had shown nothing that would give the home support any hope that we could right the ship before we listed and then capsized. I'd already had one mutiny and the crew that remained was green behind the ears.

However, I felt like I should at least try to make things right between the two of us. I took a hard swallow and then said, “Look, Tom, I'm sorry I never made the effort before to formally apologize for destroying all the hard work you put into this club.”

He shrugged his shoulders indifferently and replied, “I might not be a high and mighty manager like you, but I can see that my hard work isn't the only thing you've destroyed while you've been here.”

Ouch! He wasn't messing around. I watched him continue to move around the ground placing the trash into his black trash bag and tried to recover. Finally, after he'd turned his back on me and moved toward the stand to which I was headed, I offered, “Tom. Wait a moment, please. I'd like to make it up to you somehow. Can I do something for you as a way of apologizing?”

He kept walking away and tossed back over his shoulder, “For starters, you might want to consider leaving before someone gets hurt.”

“What do you mean by that, Tom?” I thought of my office and silently questioned his alibi last night.

Tom turned around to face me. “Horse, I'm gonna make it real simple for you. I've got a s**t load of work to do around here to make sure I do my job well. From where I stand right, you're in the same boat as me. Now, leave me alone to do my job and stop wasting your breath feeding me a string of weak apologies.”

I walked right up to him and shouted, “Weak apologies? Fine then, Tom! If you're going to hold a grudge about something even after someone apologizes for it, then I've got better things to do than speak to the likes of you.”

He stood his ground and rasped, “You gonna run away and tattle to Bobby about me?”

“Look, I'm not six, why would I run away? If you've got something else to say to me, spit it out like a man.” I got right up in his face and glared at him.

“You're questioning my manhood?” He scoffed, then he spat out, “Let me tell you something about being a man here in England, Yank.”

I continued to stare daggers at him and growled, “Go ahead, Tom! I'm all ears.”

His voice remained unchanged, his face unfazed by my proximity, “If you want to be a man here in England, especially here in the Northeast, you don't run away to the Boss every time you got some little problem.”

“Oh yeah, then what do I do if I'm going to be man here in Blyth?” I said sarcastically.

“If you wanna be a Spartan, then you'd better be willing to fight.”

“Oh? You want to have a go with me?” I removed my glasses and mobile phone and set them both on the stand before I faced him again.

“Bloody hell! You think I want a fist fight with you? You're a feckin' nutter.” He backed away from me with his arms raised in mock surrender.

“Well, what do you want?” I asked, stopping short for the moment and trying to figure out his motives.

“When was the last time you've been to the Social Club or to any pub in town for that matter?”

“What good would come of me going there?” He'd completely lost me now.

“For starters, nothing brings men closer than swapping drinks and football stories. Folk might respect you more if they knew you cared about the team like they do.”

“But I do care about this team.”

“Not from what I hear.”

I took another moment to consider his words. My adrenalin was slowing my mind for rational thought. “Fine, you might have me there. But at least my players know I care.”

“Bollocks!” he remarked. “They don't know either.”

Defensively, I asked, “And how the hell would you know that?”

“Because they've told me so over drinks.”

“********.” I challenged.

“Nutter, do you really want to apologize to me like a true Spartan?”

“Yes, I really want to know.”

“Then buy my drinks today and promise you'll listen to what I hear being said about you and the club. Cash only. Leave your fists at home.”

“Fine, I'll be there.”

“Good. Now pick up a sack and help me out. I'm getting thirsty.”

[Critical_Lemon]

I'm going with this theory.

Although I must add that this latest twist has got me even more hooked. lol! well done!

The story is like a good soap opera. Vastly better than Dream Team anyway.

[O\'Hara_fan]

Who knew Blyth Spartans could be so dramatic, I thought they were a tiny little quiet club that played matches and the local folk said hello and scored 10 goals against you.

Not making any of that up. But I love the way you've swung the story like a pendulum on immenent doom.

[copperhorse21]

Readers, many thanks for your kind words of support and also for your long suffering patience. The story continues. I just need to stop playing so much and start writing more. The game is still incredibly addictive.

Chapter 59

Sunday, 03 August 2008, The Pub, Blyth

The air was thick with the smell of stale beer and smoke. The live music was a bit too loud and lacked the tightness a talented band might have, however, it didn't matter to the folks inside the bar tonight. Men hovered near the snooker tables. Others had gathered to watch a lively round of darts. The servers elbowed their way between the tables bringing more of the brew to its loyal crowd. I scanned the crowd as my eyes grew more accustomed to the dim light and looked for Tom who'd challenged me to fight the locals in a macabre rite of passage to manage Blyth by earning the respect of the locals through spirited discussion.

Tom waved to me from a table in the corner. He was flanked by three others. He called out my name and those who heard him do it suddenly turned in my direction and suddenly stopped their conversations in mid-sentence. I felt my armpits trickle sweat under my track suit and moved cautiously toward Tom's table, ready to defend myself should anyone see fit to take the first swing on my way over to him. No one did and resumed their conversations as soon as I reached my destination.

“Mary, bring us another round.” Tom called to the server as she neared the table. “Horse is buying.” He looked at me for confirmation and I nodded affirmatively. His small entourage chuckled and nodded at me supportively for my generosity.

“Tom, thanks for the invitation.” I offered politely. I thought I was just buying for him, not for his other three friends too. But now was the time to squabble over the details.

He laughed and said, “We both know why you're here. Let's skip the idle chit chat and get down to business.” From under the table, he pushed the chair out towards me with his foot. I reached out to put my hand on its back and sat down tentatively.

The tension around the table was interrupted as the server returned with a full pitcher and another glass for me. She asked me, “You gonna pay for this now or run a tab?”

Tom answered for me. “He's gonna be running a tab tonight. He'll settle up with you later.” He looked at me and smiled. I mirrored his smile, but it lacked the same heartfelt emotion his radiated. I hoped my already thinning wallet would be able to accommodate his thirsty gullet as well as the rest he brought with him.

The balding man to Tom's left put his glass to his mouth and drained almost all of it in one pull. The other two followed suit. Tom finished all of his and looked at my nearly full glass with contempt. “I see you drink beer like you manage your football.”

“How's that?” I asked.

“You're timid and tentative.”

“Really? And how should I be drinking it?”

“You got to make a commitment and jump right in, stare the enemy in the eye and go for it.”

“And who is the enemy?”

“Not who, but what. The enemy is a what. Just like football, but in this case, its the beer getting stale in your glass. Raise it to your lips and tilt it far enough back to stare into the bottom of the glass and drink in the challenge. Welcome it openly. Relish it moment by moment with each swallow you take toward your goal. Then, savor the experience when you bask in the glow of a job well done.”

Tom's friends banged their empty glasses down in nearly unison support upon hearing his inspirational comments.

I felt like I'd just entered an alternative universe and the reality of my situation was nearly farcical in nature. I couldn't believe that he'd just spoken about drinking a beer as a metaphorical allusion to the managerial challenge I currently faced. Yet, in some strangely skewed perspective, it did make sense.

I tilted the my head back, raised the glass up high, followed Tom's directions and copied the others as I banged my own empty glass down next to theirs.

“Hear! Hear!” Cheered the balding man to my right as he clapped me on the shoulder. He looked to Tom and said, “It might not be too late to save him, but he's such a stubborn cuss, we're gonna need to see it again just to believe our eyes.” He reached to the pitcher and refilled everyone's glass. Then, he held it high for the server to see and she nodded and turned to retrieve us another full pitcher.

I sensed this was going to be a long night of spirited discussion. I knew I could hold my own with them for the discussion part, but I was nervous about how many spirits would be consumed during it.

[tenthreeleader]

I need more enemies in a beer glass, I think. Nice post, my friend - great to have you back!

[Thepathtoamen]

Welcome back, good post although I sense an argument with the Mrs. about how much Horse has drunk heh heh. Be careful!!! :-)

[O\'Hara_fan]

I've spent many a good nights at The Pub I believe I do remember some nutters their on the third. My did they finish drunk :)

A quality work for coming back mate Keep it up.

[copperhorse21]

Gentlemen, thanks for the mighty fine welcome back from my short hiatus. I hope this entry further whets your thirst for more.

Chapter 60

Monday, 04 August 2008, Bobby's Office, Croft Park

I was in no condition to meet with my owner this morning. The past weekend had been miserable on more counts than I cared to comment. But, it happened, and I'd lived through it. So far. Although, forcing Robing to stop twice so I could retch on the roadside did even less to endear me to her than the bill from last night's informal town meeting.

I'd made it home from my night on the town with Tom. It started off quite nervy, but as soon as the spirits loosed the tongues, the painful questioning ensued. The only soothing balm for their forked tongues was more spirits to numb the senses. Once I'd finally broken through the barrier of rational thinking and censored responses to finally start mumbling out whatever slipped loose from my mind and mouth at the moment, our discussion grew from just among Tom's friends to nearly the entire pub.

It seemed as if the crowd continued to grow as the night wore on. It was difficult to tell if that was natural as I'd never been at that particular establishment before. All I could vaguely recall was that, eventually, some of the folks started buying me the rounds and had cheered wildly at something I said I'd do and then I'd bought a round for all.

Robin hadn't even bothered to scold me when I staggered in. She was grateful someone had called a cab to ferry me home. She said nothing to me as well the following morning even after she'd hired a service to get her early so she could fetch our vehicle with enough time to drive me to my own administrative meeting with Bobby.

I kept waiting for her hammer to fall on me, but it hadn't. At least not yet. All that had come down the pipe was a barrage of sympathy for me and an unstoppable spewing of vengeful epithets toward the person or persons who'd vandalized my office leaving the horse offal strewn across my desk and office chair.

However, we both knew I had it coming to me when I'd finally stopped being hungover. But, for the time being, Robin was as solid as the Rock of Gibraltar. Once again, I needed to rely upon her to help me make it through the next bit of disharmony in my life.

We both knew that the tenor of today's meeting would be tenuous, at best. Being thrashed by Middlesbrough 8-1 in front of the home crowd had done little to endear me to Blyth's supporters. Being awakened in the early hours of the morning to convene at the scene of the crime reinforced to Bobby that he may have stepped out on a limb a bit too far and it had just snapped, but failed to give away entirely. Still being hungover following an evening in one of the local watering holes may have been enough to drown me completely.

I leaned on her as we walked from the car to the building. “Thanks Robin, for everything. You are too good to me. Really, you are. Have I ever told you that before? What in the world would I do without you in my life?”

“Copper, don't talk. In fact, say as little as possible. Please. For the both of us?”

“Why? Bobby's my friend. If I can't trust him, who can I trust around here?”

“Bobby may be your friend, but he's also your Boss. Showing up drunk to work is wrong, even if you are friends.”

“Okay, okay, I'll shut up as much as I can.”

“I hope so.”

We entered the building and I headed for the men's washroom to try and freshen up my face, though we both knew it would be worthless to try and hide the fact that I was still struggling to stay upright.

I clicked the lights on and they nearly blinded me. I winced and held my head in my hands hoping my headache would miraculously hideout for at least the next half hour. I splashed some water in my face and tossed two sticks of gum into my mouth before leaving.

Upon entering Bobby's office, he looked up from his desk and held the paper up for me to see. “Care to comment on your interview with the press last night?”

“I spoke to the press?” I gasped.

“Brilliant! Bloody brilliant! You didn't even know you were talking to the press at the time you guaranteed no one was riding you out of town.”

“What did I say?”

Bobby stared at me, his eyes wide with shock. “You don't even know what you said?”

I nodded my reply and he slammed the paper down in front of me. “Read it yourself!”

I struggled to focus clearly on the headline which read, “Horse Wows Crowd with Vow.” The photo showed me standing on top of a table addressing the crowd. My eyes wouldn't focus correctly on the smaller print so I tried to hide it from Bobby.

He saw right through my charade immediately. “Bloody Hell! You can't read it can you?”

I hung my head in shame. “Sorry, I can't. Still feeling the effects of the night out with Tom.”

“You went out with Tom, our Groundskeeper?”

“Yes, at his invitation.”

Bobby put his shook his head in his hands. “I thought you two weren't on speaking terms since you destroyed his technical area.”

I stopped short before replying. “You knew about that?”

“Copper, I know a lot of things you think I don't. Just because I don't call you on everything you do around here doesn't mean that I don't know about it.”

“But why didn't you say anything about it at the time?”

“Never mind my reasons for that. We're here to talk about your interview last night.”

“Okay, so let's talk. What did I say to the press?”

“Essentially, you assured everyone that no matter who tried to chase you out of Blyth, you were committed to winning a title.”

“What's wrong with that?”

“There's nothing wrong with that. It's what you said to them after you said that which caused the stir.”

“Well, what did I say after that?”

“Copper,” Bobby paused a moment to carefully choose his phrasing, “You made a declaration of sorts, instead.”

“Fine then, what did I declare?”

“You guaranteed the title this season despite being 1000-1 odds.”

“Oh--s**t!”

[Thepathtoamen]

Oh--s**t!”

I think this phrase sums it all up :-)

[O\'Hara_fan]

To be frank, if I was Bobby (he a patient chap, me an outspoken impatiant chap) Copper would have been sacked at least 5 times now

[OugaBagga]

I have read through all of the story today took me a long time =P im loving it keep up the good work

[copperhorse21]

Readers, I've slightly revised the previous post. If you read it before it was edited, you may want to reread it to realize what I changed. If you read the edited version of the previous post, you're currently up-to-date with the accurate storyline.

thepathtoamen and O'Hara Fan: Thanks for your continued support.

OugaBagga: Wow! I'm impressed you read so much in one day. How long did it take you? Also, I'm flattered by your interest and enjoyment. I hope the story continues to hold your attention.

Chapter 61

Monday, 04 August 2008, Administrative Meeting, Croft Park

“Copper, why in the world would you even make those kinds of declarations?” Bobby waited for me to respond, but when I didn't, he continued. “Copper, you're barely hanging on by a thread. You haven't won a single match yet and we've just been blown out by Middlesbrough in 45 minutes of play. Granted, we do have two of their players on loan, but they played poorly in their debut friendly. You've got to be escorted off the field so you won't fight with Fenton and his entourage and our administrative offices have just been ransacked and defiled by thoroughly despicable hooligans. Now, you spout off to the media making promises you can't possibly hope to keep and you do it under the influence of alcohol in the presence of a pub nearly full of locals. Why in God's name should I keep you?”

Bobby's rant washed over me and I numbly sat staring out the window at nothing in particular and hoped that I wouldn't start retching on the spot. I swallowed repeatedly to keep everything down, including any disparaging rebuttal I felt inclined to spew.

I waited for him to get frustrated by my silence and kick me out of his office to go about the rest of my business for the day or sack me, but he did neither. He waited for me expecting an answer to his reasonable question. When I realized he wasn't giving in, I resolved to give him a rant of my own. I still had enough courage coursing through my system to easily overcome any censoring a sober state would have prevented and I let him have a piece of my mind.

“Bobby, you're going to keep me around because no matter what I seem to do around here, I somehow manage to avoid catastrophic meltdown. This is a reality you'll just have to accept about me. I'm lucky. I've always been lucky. Robin tells me all the time that no matter how much s**t I fall into, I always come out smelling like a rose.”

He looked at me and said nothing. I think he was waiting for me to say more and I didn't disappoint. I added, “Bobby, you know deep down in your heart you are sick and tired of getting shoved around by the other board members. You'd dump them on their asses if you could, but you can't right now. You love this club so much that you swallowed your own pride to affiliate with Middlesbrough. You know that I'll swallow my pride too so I can do what I believe is best for this club. Deep inside your heart, you've got a soft spot for a mustang like me. I may be bridled, and even ridden, but my wild spirit will never be tamed. We both know that I stood up to be counted for last night. This weekend was a horror show around here, but I still faced the community and defended myself and the honor of this club, even if I was drunk. Like you, I'm a Spartan and Spartans never yield.”

Bobby looked at me a moment more and then a wide smile broke out across his face. “You're right, Copper. I do despise my Board and wish I could stick it to them. You do have a spirit about you that is different than the typical English managers found in our league today. You are willing to admit your mistakes, work with others to fix them, and passionately strive to make this club a successful one. At heart, I'm proud of you for facing your inner demons and stepping up to be counted for in our community. I do believe it will result in a fruitful harvest. However, winning the league with the squad we currently have is simply out of the question. We need better players. As your owner, I'm telling you that your staff needs to bring better quality players into this club. You've got to find some cheap players who can play and you better do it quick. You're running out of time.”

“So, I'm not getting sacked?”

“No, you're not getting sacked.”

“Then why'd you call me in here?”

“Well, you were going to be sacked, but I've suddenly had a change of heart and buy into what you've convinced me of here this morning. I believe the article conspired against you and skewed the motivations behind your declarations yesterday while you were being a mortal human. Be warned, however, had this situation occurred at a club less obscure than ours, I'd be left with only one choice.”

[OugaBagga]

OugaBagga: Wow! I'm impressed you read so much in one day. How long did it take you? Also, I'm flattered by your interest and enjoyment. I hope the story continues to hold your attention.

it took me a good 7-10 hours i got woken up ealr yso i thought i skim the stories forum looking for good stories and igot hooked on yours and couldnt stop reading