The Outcast

[WLKRAS]

Disclaimer:

Game info: FM 2010.0.3, running England lower leagues down to Level 10, France Ligue 1, German Bundesliga, Italian Serie A and Dutch Eredivisie.

Please be advised that the following story deals with adult themes and emotions, contains strong language, scenes of violence and scenes of a sexual nature. As such this story may contain parts that are not suitable for younger readers. If you are offended or upset by any of the contents of this story, feel free to contact me, either by commenting, sending me a PM or via email (address in profile). Finally, please drink responsibly.

Somewhere in a bar in deepest, darkest Essex

I gazed into the mirror behind the bar through hazy eyes. Looking back at me was a wreck. The face, sagged and grey with dark patches under the eyes, looked like that of a man in his late fifties. The eyes itself were bloodshot and dull, noticeable even in the dim light of the bar. Along the jaw and chin there was a scraggly growth that indicated he was in desperate need of a shave. The ears were invisible, hidden under an unruly mop of curly hair in desperate need of a cut. Further down, the neck was hidden in a turtleneck sweater that hung loosely around slumped shoulders. The overall impression was that of a frail man, both mentally and physically. Perhaps struggling with illness or old age. Though I wasn’t ill, I certainly had a disease. A disease which meant that a bar should be the very last place I’d be found. I looked away, not wanting to see the horror he had become.

“Tony!” I said in a hoarse growl, raising my glass in the general direction of the bartender. “Another one please”

Tony the bartender came over in his direction and took a long hard look at his customer.

“Bloody hell Chris, I think you’ve had enough” he said in a concerned voice.

“Don’t give me that Tony. Not today of all days. I’d have thought you’d know better after three years” I replied while fishing a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of my leather jacket on the stool next to me. Things hadn’t been the same since THAT tackle.

“I’m sorry mate, I think you should go. I’ll call you a taxi” he said, walking over the far side of the bar. He lifted the phone out of the cradle and started punching in the numbers. He cast a glance back over his shoulder, towards his client. When he saw him, he cursed and put the phone back in the cradle. Browne was slumped forward, his pack of cigarettes sat on the bar in front of him, his empty glass knocked over beside his head on the bar. He was snoring.

[gavrenwick]

Good to see you back writing, sir.

[WLKRAS]

Thanks Gav, hopefully I can keep this going this time

Three years earlier – Ewood Park, Blackburn

The rain came down in droves, drenching the pitch to such an extent that puddles were quickly forming. It was a typical Monday evening game. Blackburn v Bolton, in torrential February rain. Whichever TV boss had decided to schedule this as a live game would surely be getting the sack.

At left back for Bolton, veteran defender Chris Browne wiped the rain out of his eyes. His lungs were burning from the effort of chasing around Blackburn winger John Crisp all evening. The teenager was a rare talent and had been running rings around the journeyman wingback. Here he came again, wandering up the pitch as Blackburn took possession in the middle.

“You ready to give up yet, old man?” the youngster goaded. “Maybe you should just retire, ey? Find yourself a nice old people’s home?” he went on.

Crisp had been taunting Browne all evening and the veteran was starting to get close to boiling point. He was already on a yellow after a forceful barge earlier in the second half and with twenty minutes left to go, there was still plenty of time for him to get sent off. Browne backed off a few paces and Crisp quickly asked for and received the ball. The defender cursed himself as he closed the distance between himself and the winger. Crisp’s eyes lit up and he knocked the ball forward, between the old man’s legs and promptly went ‘round him, showing a clean set of heels.

“Oh f*ck” the defender cursed, wheeling around to give chase. “I’m going to get that little b*st*rd”

The fullback gave chase and despite being fifteen years older than his opponent, he managed to catch up. He forced Crisp wider, towards the corner flag. But the youngster saw that coming and cut back, wrong footing Browne with a smirk on his face. At that point, something snapped in Chris Browne’s head. A red mist descended and he lunged at the winger, aiming for his legs rather than the ball.

The snap could be audibly heard and made most of the stadium wince. Crisp let out a howling cry that tore through many a man’s soul that night. His right leg was a bloody mess, hanging at a seemingly impossible angle just under the knee. Browne didn’t bother waiting for the referee. He was already at the tunnel by the time the red card was held aloft. As he made his way between the Blackburn supporters, he was showered with warm beer, plastic cups and pretty much anything the fans had handy.

[WLKRAS]

It had been a fair struggle for Tony Keats to get an unconscious Browne into the back of his car. The pair had been old friends and when everyone else abandoned Browne, Tony stuck by him. The footballer would spend most of his time in the bar, smoking and drinking to his hearts content. On more than one occasion, Keats had had to take his friend home because he had passed out. So by now, it was a sort of twisted ritual for the 37-year old bartender. He found the right building without any problems. Once there, he had once again struggle to get him inside before unceremoniously dumping his quarry on the couch. It seemed as good a place as any to Tony to let him sleep off his drunken state. Browne merrily snored away, seemingly content with his place on the couch.

On his part, this time Tony didn’t leave the apartment. He put the kettle on and made himself a brew. He had come to a decision today. He had to stop his friend from his road to self-destruction. The constant drinking was going to kill him if Tony didn’t intervene. The ex-footballer was drinking himself into a stupor night after night. Combined with the smoking, it couldn’t be good for his health and Keats had a suspicion that his friend was into harder stuff as well, to the point that he was afraid to search the home, worried about what he might find. He would confront his friend in the morning. But first he needed to think through how to handle that exactly. Keats found himself a comfortable chair in the kitchen and went over every possible angle of the conversation, nursing his cup of tea as he did so.

[WLKRAS]

The backlash from the public has been incredible. From every corner of English football came demands for a harsh punishment. Browne’s tackle had resulted in an open double leg fracture for young John Crisp, both his tibia and fibia being broken in more than one place. He also needed reconstructive surgery to put his knee back together after pretty much every ligament had been torn or severed. It had finished the teenager’s career before it ever really started. It would be a struggle for him to even get back to walking normally, never mind play football.

Browne was fined an unprecedented four weeks wages by his club (an estimated £120,000) and suspended for the same period. The FA’s disciplinary committee took further extraordinary measures. Browne was banned from playing any sort of football for the remainder of the season and was fined a further £250,000 pounds. He was lucky to avoid prosecution in a criminal court, but Crisp did sue for loss of potential income and the civil court awarded the youngster a £5,000,000 payout, to be paid by Browne.

The left back was branded an outcast in the world of football. He was forced to relocate from Bolton after angry Blackburn fans repeatedly vandalized his home. Everywhere he went, people would shout abuse at him and label him a disgrace. Even his team mates condemned him. Sam Allardyce told reporters that he was disgusted by his player and would find it very hard to keep him in the team once his suspension finished.

Everyone was quick to forget that Browne had been a consummate professional. Always the first to turn up for training, always the last to leave. He refused to moan whenever the weather was bad, or results weren’t going their way. Rain or shine, people knew Browne would always give a 110% for his team. Here was a man who had notched up over 400 matches over a fourteen year career and always given it his all. But the people didn’t care. Whenever they saw Chris Browne, they could see young John Crisps mangled leg and hear his soul-shattering cry of anguish. Life had forever changed for Browne and a few weeks after the Civil Court verdict, he announced his retirement from football and withdrew completely from the public eye.

[Rikulec]

Great start and a good idea, keep it up!

[Matt_no_7]

Excellent start man, will be keeping an eye on this one.

[WLKRAS]

Thanks guys, great to have you reading along

Tony Keats managed a few hours of sleep, relocating to a large chair in the sitting room, but with the first rays of light he was up and awake. He put some coffee on to percolate, making as much noise as he possibly could while doing so. Unsurprisingly, I woke up with a cracking headache and all the banging did not seem to help.

“I don’t know who the f*ck you are in there and I don’t particularly care, but if you don’t stop that banging I’m coming to put you through the window!” I shouted with a hoarse voice.

“Oh hello there, sunshine. Bit of a sore head, have we?” Tony smirked.

“Tony? What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m not surprised you don’t remember, you were snoring on my bar again. Luckily for you, I’m the nice type of guy that would take you home, instead of just dumping you out on the street, which I imagine most people would do to you.”

I struggled to get myself upright on unsteady feet and pointed to the door.

“Just get the hell out of...” I started to say, but Keats cut me off.

“Sit down and shut up. I’m tired of your wallowing in self pity. Yes, you made a horrible mistake one night, but it’s been three years and it’s about bloody time you sorted yourself out. I’ll help you if you want, because I’m your friend. Hell, I’m probably the only friend you have left. But if you don’t sort yourself out now, then six months from now, I’ll probably be the only one present at your f*cking funeral, cause you’ve drank yourself to death”

“Are you done?” I asked.

“Not by a long way!” he thundered, the anger clear on his face. “If you don’t want to live, then fine, die for all I care. But don’t be expecting me to pick up any more of the pieces! Because I won’t be there for you any more. You can find some other idiot to deliver you home, from someone else’s bar, cause you won’t be getting into mine anymore!”

“I tried that” I said staring at my shoes, not daring to meet his eyes.

“Tried what?” Tony asked, not understanding.

I hooked my index fingers into the turtleneck sweater and pulled it down. Underneath a thick red-raw scar ran around my throat. I could see Tony’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when he realised what I’d tried to do, two weeks before.

“I tried dying. It didn’t work out” I told him.

[WLKRAS]

Browne found retirement difficult. Nothing to do all day but sit at home in front of the TV. He didn’t dare venture out of his house, because he was in genuine fear of his health. Regularly threats against his person arrived on the doormat with the post. He shut himself off from the outside world and took to drinking. Soon he would lose days at a time, not having a clue what had happened over the last few days as he woke up on his couch, or equally often, somewhere on the floor of his home. The only human contact he had was with the odd delivery person and the occasional call-girl whose business he’d rang for. Most of the time they left before anything substantial happened, because Browne would be too drunk to get it up or would fall asleep before the girl could get started with anything.

Browne carried on like this for a two years until the repeated vandalism on his house and other property got too much and he moved away to a small, quiet town in the Essex countryside, where his old friend Tony Keats ran a bar. He moved into a small apartment complex, more designed for older retirees, but no one in the building cared, since he mainly kept to himself. With nobody recognizing him, Browne started to come out of his shell somewhat. He was happy to leave the house and visit the many pubs around the area. Occasionally, someone would shout abuse at him, but it was nowhere near the amount he’d got up North. It didn’t take long for Browne to become a regular fixture in Keats’ bar. It was one of the few places he would leave the house for.

Then, two and a half weeks ago, a Sports channel did a ‘Whatever happened to’-programme on John Crisp. Now twenty-two, the youngster had a permanent limp, forcing him to walk with a cane and was still on a daily regimen of painkillers and exercise for his maimed leg. Many of his friends, he told the programme, had abandoned him. He felt alone, unable to get around easily and was seeing a psychiatrist for severe depression. Talking to the interviewer helped, he said. Chris Browne happened to see the programme and it filled him with shame. And hatred for himself. Less than twenty four hours after seeing the John Crisp interview, a blind-roaring drunk Chris Browne attempted to hang himself.

If he hadn’t had been so drunk, he might’ve succeeded, but instead, he created so much racket that the building maintenance man came to investigate. He found him just as Browne had kicked over his chair and was dangling from the ceiling, thrashing wildly. He just about managed to save the ex-footballer’s life.

[Wegason]

Great start, looking forward to more.

[WLKRAS]

Thanks Wegason, great to have you along

Tony didn’t know what to say to that, so he went back into the kitchen and came back out with two cups of black coffee. He handed me one, with a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry mate, I didn’t know. I thought the turtlenecks were just because of the weather” he said.

“Yeah well, that was kinda the point, ya know? So if we could keep it between us? Well, us and Don, the building maintenance guy, but he was quite happy to keep it quiet in exchange for a small donation” I continued.

Tony started to ask something, but I cut him off before he could form his sentences.

“Let it rest, Tony. Please? I’ll make you the same promise I made Don, I won’t try it again”

Tony nodded, but the concern was still evident on his face. I changed the topic away from what had happened.

“So what was your master plan for my redemption anyway? Not something involving alcohol I presume?”

“To get you cleaned up and off the alcohol, cigarettes and God knows what else you’re taking. And maybe even find you some gainful employment or something to keep you from falling straight back off the wagon” Tony answered with a serious face.

“Hahaha, gainful employment? Are you having a laugh? Nobody in their right minds would hire me to do anything. I have no qualifications, my mere being there would upset customers and colleagues. All I’ve ever done is play football and I doubt you’ll find anyone daft enough to let me back on a football pitch!”

“Who said anything about on the pitch? I seem to recall you did your coaching badges before that night?” Tony smiled.

“Ha, yeah right. As if any team ever would appoint an alcoholic outcast as their manager. I’d struggle to get the job in the local pub league, never mind anything that would pay the bills!” I roared with laughter.

“Do you need it to pay the bills?”

“Well no, I still have enough left to keep me comfortable for a while yet, but…”

He didn’t let me finish speaking before he got up, excitedly.

“There you go then!” He started scurrying around the house before returning with a pen and paper. “Here, write up your C.V. and stuff and a letter of application and we’ll use that as a template to send off to clubs”

“I appreciate your efforts, Tony, but it’s not going to work. No one is going to hire me as a coach or manager. Imagine all the bad press they’d get for hiring the most hated man in English football?!” I sighed, shaking me head at the idea.

“Bad publicity is still publicity. But ok, I’ll call Paulie, he works in PR now. I’m sure he can help us work on your image. But before we start, we have to do one thing” Tony insisted.

“Which is?” I asked.

“You’re going to go ‘round the house and collect all the alcohol, cigarettes and drugs you have and then we’re going to pour them down the drain and or throw them out. If you really want to do this, you’ll have to get clean”

I shook my head as I got up.

“You don’t ask for much, do you?”

[Spav]

Enjoying this start very much, WLKRAS.

[WLKRAS]

Thank you Spav, great to have you reading along

The C.V. turned out to be remarkably short, but nothing could be done about that. The full set of UEFA badges should’ve been enough as far as qualifications went, but add to that my bad reputation and it was a whole different ball game. With Tony’s help, I started applying for managerial jobs, at all ends of the fooballing spectrum. If they had a vacancy, they had my application. Most of them didn’t even bother to reply before appointing someone else. From some I received replies along the lines of “Thank you for your interest, but we are looking for someone with more experience” or the classic “We do not believe you would be a good fit into our current organisation”. In other words, we don’t like you.

As the clubs I was applying for got lower and lower down the league structure, my morale sank too. My predictions of “no right team in their mind would hire me” seemed to be coming true. By now the league season was ending and the amount of available positions were swiftly dwindling as well. Despairing, I started smoking again, careful to avoid Tony when I did so. When on the 5th of July, 2009, a letter arrived from local side Epping containing the phrases “Unsuitable for management” and “you are the most hated man in English football”, it dawned on my how badly liked I was. It hurt. So I did what all alcoholics do when they hurt. I went and bought myself a drink. Or several drinks, probably. The rest of the evening was a haze.

==================================================

Brrrrrring Brrrrring

I woke up to the sound of a telephone ringing. I stumbled out of bed and across the room to the pile of clothes that buried my phone. If nothing else, I wanted to shut up the shrill ringtone that made my head pound more than usual.

“Yeah?” I said when answering, fully expecting it to be Tony. He was after all the only person who bothered ringing me nowadays.

“Mr. Browne?” the voice on the other end asked.

“Uhuh?” I said, suddenly noting my throat was as dry as the Sahara desert.

“It’s Robert Martin, Chairman at Bromsgrove Rovers Football Club. It’s concerning your application?”

“Let me guess, you too think I’m unsuitable for management and wouldn’t contemplate hiring the most hated man in English football?” I said, perhaps a bit to vehemently due to my sore head.

“Well, actually, I was wondering if you could come down this afternoon to discuss your application, but if you’re not interested then I’d understand” the voice on the phone said.

“Erm, no it’s not that. Erm…” I stammered, not knowing what to say.

“Would two pm suit you?”

I looked at my watch and did the mental arithmetic. Ten o’clock now, a good three hours drive probably. It didn’t leave me much time to sober up, but that was a risk worth taking.

“I’ll be there” I said in agreement

“Wonderful, we’ll see you this afternoon” he said before hanging up the phone.

I stood and stared at the phone for a moment, waiting for someone to ring back and say it was all a lie. But nothing happened. Then suddenly a voice spoke.

“Who was that?”

I whirled around to face the bed again, only to be confronted by a beautiful blonde girl lying in my bed, with a decided lack of clothes on her perfectly formed body.

“Hi…” was all I could muster, sobering up quicker than a dunk in an ice bath would’ve done.

“Ellie” she giggled.

It was the giggle that set my mind racing. How old was this girl? She certainly didn’t look like she was anywhere near my age. Desperately I tried to remember the events of the night before, but nothing was coming back to me. She must’ve been able to see the cogs turning in my head.

“Still seventeen, same as last night, babe” she smiled.

“Oh ****…”

[WLKRAS]

Having kindly thanked Ellie for a great night (not that I remembered that) and worked her out of the door, I took a quick shower to limit the stench of cigarettes and alcohol somewhat. I had contemplated ringing Tony to get him to drive me up to Bromsgrove, but the problem with that would be telling him the reason why I wasn’t able to drive myself. And that would only invoke a whole lot of preaching from Mr. Keats, something I wasn’t looking forward to. So I took a gamble to drive myself there, despite probably still being over the legal limit. A large Styrofoam cup of coffee picked up from Costa along the way settled me down enough to at least appear reasonably well turned out. The drive itself was uneventful, but the closer I got, the more the butterflies in my stomach started to flutter. Was I really going to be offered a manager’s job? I couldn’t remember what league Bromsgrove would even be playing in.

I turned off Birmingham Road into the small side street that lead to the ground’s car parking facility. Which was really just an unmarked piece of asphalt where vehicles were abandoned at their owner’s leisure. Two racing green Jaguar saloons were parked side by side, with a man in a suit standing next to the driver’s side window of the right most car, talking to it’s driver through the window. He was grey haired, tall and slim. He looked in good shape, and I imagined he was early fifties at the latest. As I angled my BMW into the parking area, the gentleman turned around and waved at me. It was four minutes to two.

I parked behind the two Jaguars and got out, doing my best not to look too crumpled after the two hours and forty-five minute drive.

“Mr Browne?” the man that had been talking through the car window asked. I recognized his voice as the one on the telephone this morning.

“Mr Martin, I presume?” I said, nodding.

“I hope we haven’t inconvenienced you by asking you to come up her on such short notice?” he smiled as he walked up to shake my hand.

“Not at all” I replied, lying through my teeth.

Behind him the driver of the other Jaguar got out of his vehicle. He was quite a bit shorter than Martin and looked to be carrying several pounds of extra body weight. The chairman introduced us.

“This is Steve Daniels, our Director of Football”. Daniels extended a fleshy paw before speaking in a heavy Black Country drawl.

“Ow ar’ ye”

I blinked a few times while my brain processed what the man had said. Finally I managed to speak.

“Dying for a brew, actually”

Mr Martin smiled.

“Let’s go get one then, the club should be open” he said, pointing at the building that looked more like a temporary workers shack than anything else. On the inside the place looked like it was stuck in the seventies. Old fashioned furniture, complete with garish floral patterns on the parts that were covered by fabric, was dotted around the room. In the far corner there was a bar facility, though it was shuttered up.

“I’ll go and fetch us some tea” the chairman said. “Please make yourself at home, Mr Browne” he said as he disappeared through a door marked ‘private’, next to the bar.

For my part, I noticed what looked like a trophy cabinet on the wall, between two windows looking out on the pitch. It wasn’t empty, but the majority of the cups there were small and looked uninteresting. Apart two large cups, side by side in the middle of the cabinet. I got closer to read the inscriptions.

“Spalding Cup 1994-1995 winners” and “Spalding Cup 1995-1996 winners” they said. Daniels walked up beside me

“Proud’st moments that were” he drawled

“It doesn’t exist anymore, but it’s what used to be the Conference League Cup” the chairman chipped in, having returned with a tray containing a kettle, three Styrofoam cups and a pint of milk.

“We were in the Conference then. Even finished second one year. Those were the days” he continued, smiling a vacant smile as he looked out the window towards the pitch. Suddenly, he snapped out of his reverie.

“Anyway, shall we get down to business”

We sat down at one of the tables and while Daniels sorted out the drinks, Martin started laying out his plans for the club. He was, to say the least, ambitious.

“We are currently in the Southern League, First Division Midlands, or level seven of English football. Our goal is fairly simple, we want to be in level five, the Blue Square North/South, in four years. It’s ambitious yes, but I feel that this club has what it takes to go there. We want to offer you a two year deal, with an option of a further two years should you be on target. We’d be willing to pay you, £230 per week, which equates to just under twelve grand a year. In addition to that, to save you travelling up and down from Essex, we would provide you with a small furnished apartment”

“You’re not worried about my reputation?” I asked, wondering what the catch was.

“We’re in a bad place here, Mr Browne. We went into administration last year, so we’ll be starting with a ten point deduction. Frankly, there’s not much to keep this club afloat. We need any publicity we can get. I’ve talked to a few of our sponsors and they’ve agreed to stay, despite your reputation. What I’m more concerned about is getting people through the doors and a former pro as manager will do that. Even if they simply turn up to shout abuse at you for ninety minutes then that’s fine by me as long as they pay to come in”

I blinked. I guess that was the catch then.

“But why me then, I’m sure you can find another ex-pro who doesn’t come with a bad reputation?” I asked him

“Because no one else will come to us. The insecurity and the ten-point deduction is too much for them. But you, you have nothing to lose. You do well, you might get the public to forgive you. You don’t, well, then you can always go back to the middle of nowhere and hide from the world”

His words stung. But I knew he was right. I had nothing to lose. And a project to work on might keep me sober. Maybe. I pretended to mull it over by sipping my tea, but in my head, the decision was already made. I looked out the window, surveying the parts of the ground I could see. It didn’t look great. The pitch looked like a herd of marauding cows had just trudged across it. There were a few stands, but they looked in need of some repair work and they could definitely use a coat of paint. Really, the place looked like a wreck. I’d fit right in. I turned back to see the chairman smiling at me. Perhaps he could read my mind.

“Alright then” I said. “I’m in”

[Wegason]

Ooh, a truly lower league tale! This is a great start WLKRAS

[EvilDave]

Great twist on the classic opening, and a very interesting character indeed. Count me in for this one, great stuff so far!

[WLKRAS]

Thanks guys. Let's hope I can keep up the standard

The remaining formalities were swiftly handled. Martin explained to me that he’d be happy with a respectable league finish, on account of our ten point deduction and that he’d offer me a wage budget of £1500 per week to accomplish that. With the current squad earning a combined £1490 a week, that didn’t leave much room for new players. At least we were big enough to be paying people to join us, I suppose.

“As I’m sure you’ll have noticed Victoria Ground is in need of some overhaul, but sadly, we cannot afford it at the moment.” Martin said, pointing out the window at the cow field.

Next, Director of Football Daniels handed me two pieces of paper. The first held just one name, Darren Grocutt. The second was a list of thirty-three names, eleven of them marked with an asterisk, indicating youth players.

“Darren is the only staff we have on the books at the moment. He’ll be your assistant. You can bring in some more staff, within reason. The other lists are the players we currently have on the books” he said.

“Should I be worried that our only goalkeepers are marked with asterisks?” I asked.

“That might be something you’ll want to address with Darren” Daniels said. I was starting to dislike the guy already. The chairman could feel it probably and intervened by changing the topic. He looked at his watch before speaking.

“Darren will take training in about half an hour. I’m sure you’ll want to watch before you head back to gather up some of your belongings. I’ll sort out your apartment during training, so come back in here afterwards and I’ll give you the keys and what not”

“Thank you for this opportunity. Hopefully we can work together to enhance both our fortunes” I said as I rose.

“That’s the idea, Mr Browne. Steve will introduce you to Darren and the squad. I have some phone calls to make” the chairman rose too, leaving me once again at the mercy of Daniels’ country drawl.

[WLKRAS]

Luckily the Director of Football was largely silent as he led me out the clubhouse and towards a small building beside the pitch. Two doors stood open to reveal players inside both the home and away change rooms. On the pitch itself, a lone figure was setting out cones. I figured that would be Grocutt. It also immediately dawned on me why the pitch was in such a state if we trained on it as well as played. That would be one of the first things to change under my new reign.

“Daz!” bellowed Daniels across the pitch as he walked up. The two were obviously quite familiar. Grocutt looked up from his cones and when he saw Daniels, he started walking over to us. He got to about ten yards and then he stopped and scowled.

“What is HE doing on my pitch?!” he spat out the words.

“Our esteemed chairman has deemed it necessary to appoint Mr. Browne as our new manager. I expect you to extend him every courtesy” Daniels drawled, the sarcasm in his voice not lost on me. Great, I’d barely arrived and I’d already made two new enemies. Grocutt meanwhile sneered at me as he took in Daniels’ words.

“We’ll see about that” he mumbled before directing his gaze directly at me. “You want to take training, boss?” he asked, putting all his emphasis on the last word.

“No, I’ll just observe how you do things for now” I said, unfazed. I’d had meaner guys than Darren Grocutt try to intimidate me and he wasn’t about to get under my skin. Besides, by now, I was used to have enemies everywhere. One more wouldn’t make the slightest difference.

“I’ll go introduce myself to the players” I continued, leaving Grocutt and Daniels to rant about me between themselves. I stuck my head into the home dressing room first, finding the majority of the older players there. I saw recognition on a fair few faces, equalled by disgust.

“Hi guys. For those of you that don’t know me, I’m Chris Browne and Mr Martin has just appointed me as your new manager. Darren will take training today, but I’ll be observing so show me what you can do. I look forward to working with you all.”

As soon as I was out of sight, I could hear the buzz of muted conversation start. I repeated my pitch in the away dressing room, filled mainly by the youngsters. Here there was less recognition and as a result less disgust. They all seemed quite keen to impress straight away.

As I observed training from the stands, it became obvious how difficult my task would be. There was no senior goalkeeper and the two youngsters we had on the books didn’t look very good either. At the back, Adrian Manchester looked like he would be a gem of a player for this level, but we were without a decent left back. Midfield looked thin, but at least we had some decent strikers. Chris Cornes in particular impressed, banging in goals from all angles during practice. All in all, there was work to be done as I headed back to the club house to get the keys to my temporary apartment off Mr. Martin. He handed me a piece of paper with the address on as well. Always good to know where you’re going.

First though, it was back home to pick up a few things and some clothes.

[WLKRAS]

The next morning when I arrived back at the ground, I found that the chairman had called a news conference to announce his new appointment. Fortunately for me, only one journalist from World Soccer Magazine was present. Even the local paper hadn’t bothered turning up. I thought it could only be a good thing. The journalist asked all the usual questions, was I happy to be here, what sort of football would we expect from Bromsgrove. All in all, it wasn’t very exciting. No mentions of being a pariah of English Football or that tackle. I was actually disappointed by the end of it.

My next stop was the clubhouse. There was no office for me in the building to work in, so I resigned myself to working from the clubhouse for the time being. Perhaps not the best place for an alcoholic to be, but while the bar was shuttered up, I’d stand a fighting chance. My first order of business was to review the fixture list. We had seven friendlies penned in before the start of the season, starting with Chippenham at home. Most teams were slightly above our level and would be a good test. With the exception of the visit of Blue Square North side Harrogate. They’d no doubt provide a stern test. The league season would kick off on the 22nd of August with a visit of Romulus. With that sorted, it was time for a phone call to the chairman. I punched the numbers into my phone and waited for him to answer.

“Mr Chairman? It’s Chris”

“What can I do for you?” came the response.

“Well sir, I’ve got a couple of requests actually. First of all, would it be possible to put some job advertisements up. For the positions of scout, physio and coach.” I asked him.

“I suppose that can be arranged. We’ll circulate some ads in local papers and such. What else?”

“Well, I was wondering if we could have a look at trying to form links with a larger side. You know, to get some of their youngsters in on loan and maybe guarantee us a friendly each season”

“That seems fair enough, but I’ll have to see if any clubs are interested in having us. It might not be so straightforward” he cautioned in a tone that suggested that he thought we had no chance.

“Can’t lose what you don’t have, sir” I replied optimistically.

“Right you are. I’ll get on to it” he said before hanging up.

[Wegason]

I wonder who you'll get, anyone above conference level would be a big help I'd imagine.

[WLKRAS]

Indeed Weg. Would love a League Two side, but we'll have to see

That afternoon I led training for the first time. I started by gathering all the players, including the youngsters around to address them. By now, they had surely googled my name and knew all about me. It wouldn’t hurt to tell them a bit more about me to make me sound human at least.

“Good to see you all again” I started off with.

“As I’m sure you all know by know, I’m Chris Browne, your new manager. You can call me coach, gaffer or anything along those lines. As some of you will no doubt be aware, I used to be a professional footballer and I played more than 400 games over a fourteen year career. A career that came to an end because I did something stupid. Something I’ve regretted ever since. Something that has made me an Outcast in English football. But your chairman decided to give me a second chance. I know some of you are less than impressed by my presence here already, but I can tell you that I’m here to stay, so you can either buck up your ideas, or feel free to leave right away”

I left a pause and looked around the players. None of them seemed particularly keen to leave and even Grocutt who I knew disliked me seemed to be happy to stay.

“Alright then. Excellent. Give me a chance and you’ll find out that I’m a dedicated professional. I always was the first one to turn up in my playing days and the last one to leave. We all make mistakes and we all have skeletons. Mine just happens to be sat on my shoulder rather than in the closet”

That drew a laugh from a few. They might actually be warming to me.

“First up, some rules. I know we are not a fully professional team, but I would hope that you try your best to maintain a high standard. I’m not saying you can’t have fun, but keep in mind what days we train and play and I expect you to be there fully fit. Next, phones. I don’t want to see any on the practice pitch and I expect them to be turned off in the dressing room. If your phone goes off, the first post-match round is on you”.

Again, smiles and nods. I could already see a few players preparing themselves to set up their mates by ringing them.

“You have a problem with anything or have something to say, don’t be afraid to do so. But beware that I give as good as I get. And I have fourteen years of playing at the highest level to back it up.”

“Now then, today’s practice is going to be a bit different. We’re going to play a practice game, seniors against youngsters. Darren will coach the youngsters and I’ll take the seniors. Show me what you can do, but keep it friendly and sensible. We don’t need anyone to get injured”

It seemed a popular ideas and the younger players immediately headed off towards the far half with Grocutt, putting on orange bibs as they went. I handed the seniors yellow bibs and told them how I wanted them to play. It gave me a good chance to look at all the players in a more competitive environment. The absolute standout was Chris Cornes, who scored both goals for the senior side as they won 2-0. Admittedly, he pounced on two errors by the young defenders, but at least he still put them away. It was better than nothing.

[WLKRAS]

Bromsgrove Rovers v Chippenham, Victoria Ground 13-7-2009

It was a few days later that I made my managerial debut proper. Chippenham played in the Southern League Premier Division, or in other words, one level above ourselves. I had not seen anything of them before the game, so we had no idea what to expect. For ourselves, I set out the team in a 4-4-2 formation with wide men Cameron Jones and Kevin Banner told to get forward whenever they could. A further surprise was the inclusion of star striker Cornes as an attacking midfielder rather than a striker, plainly because we lacked a decent creative midfielder to play the role I envisioned. 19-year-old Adrian Manchester, who looks by far our best player, was handed the captain’s armband.

“No pressure tonight lads. Just go out there and show me what you’re capable of” I told them in the crowded dressing room beforehand.

A surprising total of 67 people had turned up to watch and they let out a collective groan when Chippenham went up just five minutes into the match. The guests had a corner on the right of the pitch and when it was swung in right back Rapinder Gill lost out in the air to Chippenham centre back Ross Adams. 16-year-old Scott Jarvis in our goal could only meekly parry the ball into the roof of the net and just like that we were 1-0 down.

Gill, keen to make up for his mistake surged forward a few minutes later, but his shot went flying over the crossbar. But at least we were getting forward. Striker Dexter Ravenhill and midfielder Marlon Walters both had off target efforts before Dean Curtis thundered an effort off the crossbar in the sixteenth minute.

Despite being 1-0 down, we were looking the better team but when Curtis abjectly missed a completely free header from four yards out, it dawned on me that today wasn’t going to be our day. Indeed, ten minutes after that, Jones had to come off injured after a clash of heads. With no physio on our staff yet, it was Grocutt who had to help him off the pitch. The kid was pretty dazed and I sent the pair of them off to A&E to make sure he was ok. It did however mean that if anyone else got injured, it would be me or one of the subs running on with the magic sponge.

We had more chances after that, but what summed up our night was what happened in the 39th minute. Jarvis sent a long clearance up field which evaded everyone. The ball ran loose in no man’s land between the back line and the Chippenham goalkeeper, who was desperately running out to intercept it. Dean Curtis got there first and knocked it past him, only to then put the ball wide of the empty goal. By that point, I had my head in my hands and was wishing I’d stayed in a pub in Essex.

The second half saw the introduction of four substitutes but they couldn’t change the tide either. We continued to create chances, mainly through Cornes who was now playing up front, but the majority of our efforts were off the mark. On the plus side, Scott Jarvis pulled off some good saves to keep Chippenham down to just one goal, so we kept ourselves in the game.

In the 72nd minute, Captain Manchester got in on the act up front, but his header from a corner whistled inches over the bar. Cornes too saw his injury time header fly over the bar from close range and Walters fired wide in the dying seconds. By the end of the match I’d counted that we’d had fifteen shots, but only one of them was on target, four of them clear-cut chances. At least I knew what the training focus for the next few weeks would be.

Bromsgrove Rovers 0 (Jones inj, 33rd)

Chippenham 1 (Adams, 5th)

[WLKRAS]

“Well lads, I can’t fault your efforts, but we have to work on hitting the target. Other than that, that wasn’t as bad as I was expecting” I told the players afterwards, delivering the last half of that sentence with a grin.

It had the desired effect, the players seemed happy with my comments and even the ones that had frowned at my presence at first, seemed to be warming to me.

“How’s Jonesy? It didn’t look too good when he went off.” Manchester asked.

“Darren just rang from the hospital to say that Cameron has a concussion and will probably have to rest for a week or two. Thankfully though, it’s nothing more serious” I told the players. They seemed relieved at the news. There had been one or two concerned faces at half time when I told them Darren had took Jones to A&E.

What concerned me was that a few players looked absolutely shattered and our next game against Caernarfon was only two days away. In fact, I was tempted to have a word with the chairman to cancel some of the pre-season friendlies, particularly the away ones.

In the end I cancelled all three away friendly matches after agreeing with the chairman that they weren’t worth the travel expenses and that the extra space on the calendar would help the players to recover quicker. Instead I arranged for a visit from Irish side Shamrock Rovers. It would cost us about £500, but the Martin expected about £5,000 in revenue from the game, so it was a risk well worth taking. We might get battered by a superior side, but five grand would go a very long way for a small club like Bromsgrove. It would be more than our turnover last month for a start.

[WLKRAS]

Bromsgrove Rovers v Caernarfon, Victoria Ground 15-7-2009

With a number of players still tired from the match two days ago against Chippenham, I made a number of changes to the starting line up. It meant a couple of the youngsters would get a chance to shine. Our opponents Caernarfon were a Welsh amateur team, so in theory it should be an easy enough game for us.

“Alright then gentlemen. You have a chance to impress today. Two days ago, our finishing was a bit lacking, but other than that, you did fine. Keep doing the same today and the goals will come. Just try to hit the target. Placement is more important than power at this level. I know some of you are tired, but we’ll have a week’s respite after this, so give it a go tonight and have a rest tomorrow”

The message had obviously got through, because just eight minutes in, Dean Curtis, serial waster in the previous match, forced a smart save from the Welsh goalkeeper with an effort from outside the box. The resulting corner from the right was swung in by youngster Bobby Towey and he managed to find the head of centre back Jemiah Richards, who promptly thundered a diagonal header past the stunned Welsh goalkeeper. Eight minutes gone and we were already a goal to the good.

Caernarfon sensed our tired legs though and they came forward a few times, forcing Jarvis into two smart saves. He tipped a long range effort out wide and the resulting corner he managed to intercept with the tips of his fingers, deflecting it enough for it to miss everyone and roll out for a throw in on the far side. His efforts were met by applause from the 55 fans that had turned up for today’s game.

Late in the half Dexter Ravenhill nearly put us two up, but his narrow angle shot was tipped wide for a corner which came to nothing.

There were a lot of tired legs at half time, forcing me to make eight substitutions throwing even more youngsters onto the field. We continued to dominate in the second half, young Anthony Byrne impressing in particular with some excellent deliveries from out right. He even had a go from a free kick well out, but that effort flew over the bar.

Kevin Banner and Marlon Walters were also in on the act again. Walters acted twice as the provider for the left winger, but the twenty-seven-year-old had not yet adjusted his sights properly and missed both efforts. Despite that, the performance was encouraging. Eleven shots with five on target made for much better reading than the previous game and we got a win out of it to boot.

Bromsgrove Rovers 1 (Richards, 8th)

Caernarfon 0

[WLKRAS]

On the morning of the 18th, my phone rang. I answered it and was greeted by the Black Country drawl of Steve Daniels. He was even harder to understand on the phone, but eventually I managed to gather that he’d had an offer from West Midlands League Premier side Darlaston for our striker Emmanuel Ibhadon. They were apparently offering us the princely sum of nothing to take him of our hands. Now, I may be new to this whole management thing, but even I know that letting your players go for nothing is not how it works, especially if said player is not transfer listed or anything.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea. Emmanuel might not be our first choice up front, but we’re going to need him over the season and letting him go for nothing would just be stupid” I told the Director of Football.

“I ‘av to agree with ye, there lad” he replied.

“If they want to pay us, it’s an different matter altogether, but if they’re not willing to do that, then he’s not going anywhere”

“Very well, I’ll ring them back and let them know just that. Oh, by the way. The chairman said he’d put some adverts up for the positions you suggested, so we should get something back by the end of the week for that”

“Excellent, thanks” I said before hanging up. I looked at the phone, once again unsure of Daniels. One day, he seems quite friendly, the next he’s obviously scheming with Grocutt to work me out the club. The guy must have a split personality or something.

[WLKRAS]

The word came back soon enough on Ibhadon. Darlaston weren’t willing to spend any money in order to buy him, so they withdrew their interest. Which was good enough for me. The twenty three year old wasn’t going to set the league alight, but he was a reasonable enough player to keep around.

In addition to that, I received the first lot of applications for the open positions. Each position (scout, physio and coach) received four applications. After careful consideration, I picked out the best application for each position and sent off a contract proposal. In case of the coaching position, the proposal went to Martin Hier, who could also still play in the centre of defence and so could help strengthen the team on two fronts.

The first one to actually join Bromsgrove though, was 29 year old physio Peter Eldrigde. He already worked at the local hospital and was looking for a way to supplement his income somewhat. Martin Hier followed the next day, also agreeing terms to join the team. Scout Paul Gerrard took a couple days more to decide, but finally he too, was on board the good ship Bromsgrove. He was immediately dispatched to scout around England for some reinforcements. Things were starting to shape up.

With all that also came news from the chairman. He’d managed to find two clubs to link us with, namely Burton Albion and Rushden and Diamonds. While I leaned towards Rushden initially, it was the £4720 pounds a year that Burton would pay us that made the deal. The news was announced to the media the next day and one or two outlets quickly picked up on the fact that Bromsgrove manager nowadays was me. I wasn’t looking forward to the next time we played a match. Surely people’s interest would be piqued now.

[WLKRAS]

Bromsgrove Rovers v Ashford (Middx), Victoria Ground 23-7-2009

Our third friendly would see us take on Ashford from Middlesex in front of a crowd of 58. Not as much interest as I’d expected, though I noticed a few new faces and one or two holding a notepad. Journalists then. Wonderful

As far as the team were concerned, we were back to our strongest team, with the exception of the still concussed Cameron Jones. In his stead was the youngster Byrne who had impressed against Caernarfon. Ashford were also a division above us, in the Isthmian Premier Division, so it would potentially be a tough game for us. Never the less I was positive in our pre-match talk.

“I know Ashford are a division above us, but that means nothing. Keep it tight at the back and make the most of your chances. We all know they will come, we just have to take them when they do” I said before stepping aside for Grocutt, who reiterated the tactics to them. We still don’t get on, but he’s had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that we’ve done well so far under my tutelage.

“Finally, I know we have a physio now” I said, looking over at Peter Eldridge “But that doesn’t mean you should try and injury yourselves!” That drew some laughter and a remark from captain Manchester.

“Don’t worry gaffer, we’ll take it easy” he said with a wink.

For a moment after kick off, I thought he hadn’t been joking. Ashford came on strongly and had the first chances of the match and while both were wide, the ease with which they carved us open caused me to stand up and shout across the pitch to Manchester

“Adrian! Not too easy ey?!” I thundered with a face that spoke volumes. My captain soon organised his troops, but not before Jemiah Richards was booked for a push in the back of Ashford’s big strong forward. The resulting free kick went over the bar, but half the first half was gone and we hadn’t had a look in yet. I got up again to urge the players to keep hold of the ball.

To my right, leaning against the outside of the dugout, Martin Hier was laughing.

“Bit different from Bolton, isn’t it?” he said, his teeth bared in a big grin.

“Oh, don’t you start” I hissed at him. He just laughed again.

“Don’t worry coach, just busting your chops”

I simply gave him another long hard stare, suggesting he should pack it in. Meanwhile on the field of play, our fortunes weren’t improving. At least the good news was that Ashford were still off target even from close range, but even despite Richards’ best efforts, they were still getting chances.

I let the players know what exactly I thought of their play so far at halftime and they were suitable chastised by the time they came back out for the second half. Four new faces were in the middle, one of them was youngster Leon Smith. And it was he who opened up the Ashford defence with a delightful through ball for Kevin Banner and for once the winger was on target. Admittedly, it was from close range, but the angle was tight enough to make it slightly less easy.

That was the end of our inspired play though and Ashford took over straight away again. They kept coming with efforts from range and closer as well, but they remained to be wayward in the efforts. They finally broke through six minutes from the end, substitute Kenny Kent heading in from a completely unmarked position in the middle of the pitch. Luckily for us though, he was so unmarked because he was in an offside position and the goal was disallowed. A late chance for Ibhadon was tipped over by the goalkeeper and that was the last action of the match.

I still wasn’t pleased in my post-match talk though.

“Not good enough lads. We let them have too much of the ball, they had too many chances and you didn’t create anything yourself. Five shots with only two on target is not good enough. There’s work to be done, gents, we’re not there yet.”

Bromsgrove Rovers 1 (Banner, 53rd)

Ashford (Middx) 0

[WLKRAS]

The next week I managed to convince the chairman to allow me to put up some temporary office space in the car park. He wasn’t keen on the idea at first, but when I offered him to pay for it myself, he reluctantly agreed. It gave me a little to space to work from with a bit more privacy than the club house. Also, there was no temptation of a alcohol in my new little office. I’d only been in it a few hours when there was a knock on the door.

“It’s open” I called, expecting to see either the chairman or Darren Grocutt, but it was the heavy-set figure of Tony Keats that hauled himself in through the doorway.

“Bloody hell, what are you doing here” were the only words I managed to utter.

“Hello to you too, Chris” he roared with laughter. “I figured I’d come and see how you’re doing”

“Not too bad actually. The squad isn’t anything special, but good enough for this level. If only the facilities were of the same standard” I laughed with a wave of my hand.

“Well, it could be worse. At least it’s not a pub” Tony said, staring at me through hard eyes.

“Been sober ever since I got here, I’ll have you know!” I objected.

“Read any papers yet?” Tony said, holding up the one he was carrying.

“No, why?” I asked, concern in my voice.

“The Sun did a piece on your new job. It’s not especially flattering. Figured I’d best be here when you’d read this” he said, tossing the newspaper onto my desk.

Disgraced former footballer returns to the pitch

By our reporter

A DISGRACED former footballer has returned to the pitch as manager of lower league side Bromsgrove Rovers. CHRIS BROWNE, 37, played for Bolton Wanderers for fourteen years before a HORRIFIC tackle made on Blackburn youngster John Crisp saw him BANNED for FOUR MONTHS.

TALENTED young Crisp saw his career in tatters after a double open leg break and needed reconstructive surgery on his knee. He is still trying to cope with the effects of the HORROR tackle five years later as a recent TV interview revealed.

Crisp SUED Browne for a loss of earnings and was awarded FIVE MILLION POUNDS compensation by a civil court, but the disgraced veteran EVADED criminal charges. And now he is back on a football pitch with Bromsgrove

Fans of the club were OUTRAGED at Browne’s appointment and the attendances in recent friendlies have been well down on last year.

One fan commented “It’s an absolute DISGRACE that this man is even allowed anywhere near a football field again. I’m angry about it really, I don’t understand why the chairman decided to hire him, it’s not good for our reputation”

But Bromsgrove chairman Robert Martin insisted that Browne deserved a second chance when asked for comment. “Everyone makes mistakes and Chris made the worst one in his life. But should he have to suffer for that all his life? Everyone deserves a chance to redeem themselves”

Browne is often said to be the most HATED man in English football and he will no doubt receive a lot of HOSTILE receptions on his travels with Bromsgrove. And the way it’s looking, Bromsgrove’s Victoria Ground doesn’t look any friendlier.

Editor’s note: Chris Browne refused to speak to us when asked for comment

[/Quote]

“Those bastards…” I muttered. Tony just nodded.

“Don’t let them get to you. Couple days and it’ll all blow over. Before you know it, John Terry will be sleeping with someone else’s girlfriend again or make racist remarks and you’ll be out of the picture once again”

“Yeah, right” I sighed.

“And if not, here’s Paulie’s number. Call him if needs be” he said, handing me a business card for a public relations firm.

We chatted a bit more about football and Bromsgrove in particular before Tony had to head back to Essex for opening time. After he’d gone, I just sat at my desk, reading the article again and again.

[WLKRAS]

Bromsgrove Rovers v Glenn Hoddle Academy, Victoria Ground 25-7-2009

Our next match saw another former pro grace the dugouts at the Victoria Ground, but Glenn Hoddle clearly had little regard for me, his handshake before the match lasting an absolute minimum of time. His presence at least seemed to have drawn out a few more supporters as 79 people were in attendance. Well, that or people had read The Sun article and had come along to shout abuse at me.

The players at least started to be in better shape and we started with ten players the same as our last game, the only difference being Byrne replaced by Cottrill. We started well with Cornes having a go from distance eleven minutes in, but his effort just fizzed past the post. He was at it again nine minutes later, but this time his shot from close range was tipped out for a corner.

Hoddle’s academy team were limited to efforts from range, but only one of them was on target and that was easily gathered by Jarvis. He quickly rolled the ball out wide to Cottrill and the makeshift right winger blazed past his marker like he wasn’t standing there before swinging a floating cross in from the right. Kevin Banner was waiting in the middle for it, but while he managed to make a good connection with it, it was just too high and flew over the crossbar.

Halftime came and went and with it four substitutions for us. It wasn’t so much tired legs as wanting to see some fresh faces. But one of the new faces, youngster Daryl England committed a foul right on the edge of the box inside the ‘D’. Academy player Michael Noone had the perfect spot to demonstrate his skill and he fired a wonderful free kick into the top corner.

Two minutes later, Jarvis was picking the ball out of the net again. Noone this time provided the assist with a floated corner from our left. A clever run from defender Hall saw him move off the back post to the edge of the six yard box, bamboozling Gill and leaving him unmarked to head home.

That certainly took the wind out of our sails and while Chris Cornes was still having a go from distance, the other players seemed deflated. Hoddle’s Academy were starting to create more and more chances, orchestrated by Michael Noone in midfield. He sure looked a classy player and it wouldn’t surprise me if the Irishman, a product of Millwall’s youth academy, would end up at a pro club again before long. At least the saving grace for us was that despite their chances, Academy were still off target with most of them, so the margin stayed at two.

With heads dropping and shoulders sagging, I went to my bench again and brought on some more fresh faces and legs. Among them was 23 year old striker Jason Taylor. He’s good in the air and can finish well enough for this level, his only problem is being unable to control the ball. But when a ball is on his head, he’s bound to do something useful with it. Like in the 71st minute. Bobby Towey easily skipped past his man on the left and floated in a cross. Taylor out jumped his maker and guided his header into the far corner. Needless to say, he was very happy with his effort, running around like Marco Tardelli.

That was pretty much the highlight of our second half, but it amused the supporters if nothing else. He also got plenty of stick for it from his teammates, but it was all good natured.

“Not bad lads, shame about the little lapse after the break, but I thought we did well in the first half. Also, good goal from Tardelli here” I said after the game, with a nod to Taylor. Not all of the players got it, but the ones that did had a good chuckle at it.

“Anyhow, it was a good effort, just try and keep your concentration next time. Now, rest up and take it easy, our next game is in jus two days and Harrogate will be an even tougher nut to crack”

Bromsgrove Rovers 1 (Taylor, 71st)

GH Academy 2 (Noone 49th, Hall, 51st)

[WLKRAS]

Bromsgrove Rovers v Harrogate, Victoria Ground 27-7-2009

With it being only two days since the last game, we were forced to make a few changes. I decided to select the eleven players that looked fittest and not necessarily the best players. It would no doubt be a tricky match as Harrogate were a Blue Square North side and as such played two levels above us. Despite the bigger team, we only drew 65 supporters into the ground.

“Don’t worry lads. We’re probably not going to make a massive impact in this game, so don’t worry about the result, go out there and have fun” I told them beforehand.

The players relaxed visibly and the atmosphere in the dressing before the match was very laid back. In fact, if we’d been any more laid back we’d have been on the floor! The weather would be in our favour as it was cold, wet and windy.

Despite the alleged gap in quality, the match itself started very even. In fact, we probably started the game better and eleven minutes in, Kevin Banner had the first chance, but he dallied on the ball in the box and it was nicked away from him, out for a corner, which came to nothing. We didn’t let up and twenty five minutes in, Gill and Byrne played a wonderful combination down the right and Byrne sent in an inch perfect cross straight onto the head of Banner. He didn’t miss this time, heading into the far corner to put us one-nil up against a more fancied side.

Things only improved from there and nine minutes later Jarvis sent a long ball forward onto Ravenhill’s head. He headed it on, into the run of Curtis who slammed it home from the corner of the six yard area. I was on my feet with jubilation. We were playing some very good football against a team two levels above us. Byrne nearly made it three five minutes later, but his close range effort was denied. Harrogate worked a good effort on the left in first half injury time, but their striker blazed it a mile over from a good position.

“You’re doing wonderful job, lads. We’re completely dominating them. Keep this up and you’ll get more in the second half. Keep pressing them and keep the ball when you have it. Let them run after you” I was thrilled by the performance and my team talk at half time reflected that. We did have to make a couple of substitutions, both due to tired legs and my desire to see some different players have a go. They didn’t disappoint.

Four minutes into the second half, we won a corner which Chris Cornes took. He played it short, to Adrian Manchester on the edge of the area. Manchester controlled it and dribbled it into the area, looking for his left foot. He managed to find enough space around the penalty spot and fired it in left footed to make it three-nil. Ten minutes later, Cornes nearly curled one in from distance, but it didn’t dip enough and flew high.

We continued to press and Craven smashed one off the post after a good build up from the right of the pitch. Harrogate continued to give the ball away and Walters picked up a loose ball in their half. He threaded a pass through the middle right to Taylor, who applied a close range finish for 4-0. And that wasn’t the end of it. Taylor got another when Walters found England in the centre circle. The youngster hit it over the top first time and Taylor beat the offside trap to score another close range finish.

Bromsgrove Rovers 5 (Banner, 25th, Curtis, 34th, Manchester, 48th, Taylor, 73rd, 81st)

Harrogate 0

[WLKRAS]

The day after the match I received a phone call from Burton to notify me of their intention to send young striker James Knowles on loan to us. I don’t know anything about him, but the fact that he’s from Burton is bound to make him better than any of our other players. I politely enquired if there would be any more potential loanees coming in, but was met with a brisk “No”. It didn’t take Knowles long to decide and he swiftly hooked up with us. We was a bit dismayed when he first arrived at the Victoria Ground and took a look at the pitch, but when I informed him he’d be a starting striker, he soon cheered up and let the media know he was relishing the chance.

The next day, before training started I made an announcement.

“Listen up guys” I as said as the players were stood in a semi-circle in front of me. “I’ve come to a decision on who’s going to be club captain this season. I think Adrian (Manchester) has been doing a great job so far and I see no reason to replace him” I turned to the young centre back, who looked a bit unsure. “So, you’re our official captain now kiddo, I have every faith in you”

Manchester started to sputter

“But gaffer, I’m far too young to be captain, surely one of the older lads should have it” he protested

“Nonsense” I replied. “You’re a key player, you play with your heart on your sleeve and you’re always going the extra mile. You lead by example and the lads all take inspiration from that” I went on. At my last comment, the other players voiced their agreement and nodded. “See, they all think you’re the best choice”

“Dean Craven will be vice-captain this season” Grocutt chipped in. Craven had been his choice for captain, but the others in the backroom staff had all opted for Manchester, so it was a clear victory for the youngster.

“That’s all lads, get ready for a good session today, one more friendly left before we get down to business and I expect us to be ready” I said, dismissing them to their warm-up.

[Wegason]

*Shakes fist at the Sun* Good results thus far, looking forward to more

[WLKRAS]

Thanks Weg, let's hope we can keep it up when the league actually starts

Bromsgrove Rovers v Shamrock Rovers, Victoria Ground, 5-8-2009

Finally then, our last friendly match. The big one. It was cold and windy for the visit of Shamrock Rovers from Ireland, but 824 people braved the biting wind, bringing in more than five grand in gates and match day income. A very helpful boost indeed.

Young James Knowles went straight into the team as we fielded our strongest eleven. We were met on the pitch by our visitors wearing some very purple, almost day glow, shirts. Despite the weather, I decided sunglasses were in order as I took my seat in the dugout.

Of course, our visitors were more illustrious than ourselves, having reached the heady heights of European Football on a few occasions. And it was they who drew first blood on fourteen minutes when Roy Dunne turned Jemiah Richards inside out about three times before scoring from just inside the box. It was the added quality that did us in and most of us could just stand and watch as Dunne tortured poor Richards. Not to be out done though, Marlon Walters had a good chance from a corner, but he fired it over the top of the bar.

The rest of the first half was all Shamrock and the question was not if, but when they would score again. But fortunately for us, their calibration was off and they missed the target more than they hit it. Aside from that, young Jarvis was doing well in goal for us and kept us in the game.

Even in the second half, there was no added goals from the visitors, despite a horrible mistake by Jarvis. He came well outside his area for a long ball from the opposing goalkeeper, but missed out against Dunne, who could only head it on wide. For ourselves, we didn’t create any more chances, apart from Cornes and Manchester trying to replicate their corner trick from the game against Harrogate. It didn’t come off this time as Manchester fired wide and that as they say, was that.

Bromsgrove Rovers 0

Shamrock Rovers 1 (Dunne, 14th)

[WLKRAS]

With the friendly matches done and dusted, it was time to get serious. I was looking to add more people to the backroom staff (if nothing else, to avoid Grocutt having too much of a say), but finances were still tight. The five grand brought in by the Shamrock game helped though and I was able to bring in another coach, Alex Watson, a former pro with over 400 games like myself, but in the lower leagues. We went through the interview process and I like his ideas, so we offered him a job. Then there was Jack Kamara, who got the offer of a scouting position so that Paul Gerrard wouldn’t have to do all the work.

More good news came when the chairman announced that we’d managed to sell season tickets to 54 poor souls, who had coughed up 64 pounds each. Another nifty sum just short of 3.5 grand to add to our coffers. That was offset by the bad news that we would be away in the FA Cup 2nd Qualifying Round versus Greenwich Borough, but at least they were two levels below us in the football tier, so it should be an easy enough game.

The day before our first league match of the season against Romulus, there was a knock on my office door.

“It’s open!” I shouted once again. The door swung open to reveal a short man, with a sullen face. He was dressed in grey, wearing a hat and carrying a notepad. It’s didn’t take Stephen Hawking to figure out that he was a reporter of sorts.

“Hi, Robbie Abraham, from the Bromsgrove Standard” he announced. “Can I ask you a few questions about the game and the season ahead?” he said. Everything about the man was dull. Even his voice was a nasal monotone drone.

“Yeah, I suppose I can spare you a few minutes. Come in” I told him. He pulled a pen out the top of his notepad and sat down on the chair on the other side of my desk.

“Ready for the season ahead?” he asked, his voice and face showing no emotion.

“Yeah, we’ve had a good pre-season and we’re ready to go, really. It’ll be heard starting on -10 points, but I have good hopes that we’ll be comfortably clear of relegation”

At this, he frowned slightly, but he didn’t follow up.

“Adrian Manchester is the new captain, will he be a key player for you?”

“Yes, Adrian is a very exciting talent for us and if he does well this season, then it’ll lift everyone” I replied.

“What about tomorrow’s game against Romulus?” he asked, while still scribbling away.

“Well, I’m not going to give away our game plan, but I think both sides will have a good chance to make an impression” I said, remaining non-committal.

“Finally then, there’s been whispers around the ground that people don’t really want you here because of your assault on John Crisp and the fall out from that. How do you feel about that” he asked and for the first time, there was an edge to his voice. As if it was a personal matter to him. Wonderful, yet another enemy. Internally I was seething at his choice of words, but outwardly, I tried to remain calm.

“Well, I’d like to think that’s all in the past now. The chairman was happy enough to give me a second chance and I’m here to reward his faith in me. Hopefully, we can do well enough to win over some of the doubters as well” I said, shooting him a dirty look that he didn’t see. “Now if that’s all, you can go” I said, picking up papers from my desk and rifling through them as if I had something to do. Luckily it must’ve looked good enough to the press man, because he stood and left without a further word.

Abraham had barely left or my mobile started ringing. I looked at the display to see who it was and stared in shock when the caller ID said ‘Ellie’. I contemplated just letting it ring, but knowing that wouldn’t resolve anything, I thought better of that and answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey babe, it’s Ellie” I heard her say at the other end.

“Yes, the caller ID told me. Not that I knew you were in my phonebook mind”

“We exchanged numbers, don’t you remember?” she teased with a giggle. “Well, I suppose you were knocking back double JD’s like it was going out of fashion”

“Look, Ellie…” I started, but she cut me off

“I know, I know I’m too young or whatever. Fine, suit yourself. We had a good night, so I thought it would be worth trying to see if you’d like a repeat, but obviously not” she said, bitterness sounding in her voice.

“It’s not that. I’ve got a new job in the Midlands, so I’m not going be around in Essex much” I told her.

“What, even on weekends?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a 24/7 job really. I got a place up here and everything, so I’m close by…”

She cut me off again. “Great, I could just stay at yours then”

This wasn’t going anywhere. Not sure how or why, but somehow, I’d found myself a teenage groupie.

“Like I said, it’s a 24/7 job, so I’d be working on the weekends as well. Listen, I’m sorry, but it’s not going to work out” I hung up before she could reply. Maybe she’d get the hint.

[WLKRAS]

Bromsgrove Rovers v Romulus, Victoria Ground, 22-8-2009, 15:00

I had to try and get Ellie out of my head before our opening league game against Romulus, but that was easier said than done. Since her call, all I could see when I closed my eyes was her naked on my bed back in the flat in Essex. As such, I didn’t get much sleep and was looking a bit worse for wear when I turned up to the Vic on the morning of the match. I arrived at my office to find the door open. Inside, Tony Keats had heaved his bulk into my office chair and was sat with his feet on my desk.

“You’re taking some liberties” I told him with a scowl. “How did you get in anyway, I locked this door last night”

“I picked the lock. Took me all of thirty seconds” his baritone voice thundered. “Figured I’d come up and lend you some moral support ahead of your official debut. You look like you need it as well” he said with a disapproving look.

“It’s not what you think, I couldn’t sleep last night” I protested

“So you had a little nightcap to help you sleep?” he mocked.

“No actually, haven’t had a drink since you last barged into my office” I was starting to get angry with his insinuations.

“So what was keeping you awake? Or should I ask who?” he said, starting to smirk.

“Like I said, it’s not what you think. Just leave it, ok? I’ve got a match to worry about now” I said, trying to change the subject away from last night. Tony frowned at me, but kept his mouth shut. Instead, he heaved himself out of my chair, which let out an audible sigh.

“Alright, alright, keep your pants on. Just try and freshen up a bit before you go out there ey? I’d imagine there’ll be some press around and you don’t want to look washed up” he said as made for the door. I went to sit in the chair behind the desk, re-arranging my papers. Tony turned at the door.

“Oh and Chris?”

I looked up and was met by a friendly bartender smile.

“Yeah?”

“Good luck today, I hope you do well” Tony said before heading out the door.

I smiled. The big old lump had a heart after all. I turned to my papers and found the list I’d printed off the internet earlier. It listed Romulus’ pre-season fixtures and it wasn’t a pretty sight if you were a fan of theirs. No wins and only three draws in seven games. They’d only scored three as well. All in all, they were encouraging signs for us.

I had already posted the sixteen names for the match in the club house after training on Thursday and although there were a few grumbles, most players took being left out well. We’d assemble an hour before the match in the home changing room and fifteen minutes before our set assembly time, I left my office and headed for the change room.

I walked across the pitch, having a look at it before the game. Surprisingly, groundsman Daniel O’Hagan had done a superb job and it looked less like the farmers patch it had been at the start of the season and more like an actual football pitch. He was out there now, making some last minute repairs. He hated the fact that we had to practice on the pitch as well as play our matches, but it was just one of those things. There was no money for a separate training pitch, never mind space to have one. I gave him a friendly wave as I passed, but he just shook his head and set about his business.

Once inside the dressing room, I took straight to the whiteboard I’d set up and drew out our 4-4-2 formation before filling in the names underneath:

GK: Jarvis

DR: Gill

DL: Craven

DC: Manchester ©

DC: Richards

MR: Byrne

ML: Banner

MC: Walters

MC: Cornes

ST: Knowles

ST: Taylor

S1: Lovell (GK)

S2: Hier

S3: Ravenhill

S4: England

S5: Jones

Slowly the dressing room started to fill up and happily all the players and staff were there for the agreed time. No need to drop players to the bench because they were late then. With everyone there, I could start my team talk.

“Well gents, this is it then. This is where we get serious. Romulus haven’t won any of their pre-season matches, but don’t let that trick you into believing this will be an easy game. I expect each and everyone of you to give 110 percent today. The sooner we get back into positive points, the better and today is the ideal opportunity to get started”

The players faces were a mix of concentration and anticipation. They were ready to go out and sent a message.

“Don’t overdo it. Keep it simple. A short pass wide is sometimes far more effective in carving an opening than a long 60-yard cross field one. Ol’ Dan has put a great effort in to prepare the pitch, so let’s make use of it while we can. Keep it on the floor and keep it moving. A smart team lets the ball do the work”

I looked around the faces again. No change. Just more determined. Chomping at the bit to go out there.

“Good luck” were my final words and with that I sent them out in front of the assembled 279 fans that had turned up.

[WLKRAS]

Romulus kicked off in their red and white striped kit, while we were in our usual green and white stripes. We got out of the blocks quicker than Usain Bolt, creating four chances in the opening fifteen minutes. Taylor was the main threat, first stinging Romulus goalkeeper Harris’ hands with a powerful header before he fired a shot wide. Walters also fired wide, unable to control his shot after it had bobbled off the pitch and Banner headed over after James Knowles had sent in a perfect cross.

Our opponents got their first sight at Jarvis in the 22nd minute when a Chris Cornes corner was headed out of their area and they swiftly turned defence into attack. They charged forward down our right and it was young striker Moore who sent in a cross towards his partner Fagan. However, Adrian Manchester had charged back and beat Fagan in the air with a very strong challenge. There were immediate protests from the guests, but referee Harry Defoe judged the challenge to be legal and waves them away. Romulus protesting nearly led to another chance for us, but Taylor’s pass was slightly off target and intercepted.

Six minutes later, we’d won another corner and this time Cornes sent it long towards the back post. Manchester made a good run and had the beating of Franklin in the air and thundered home a header from inside the six yard box. The home crowd erupted in a cheer and I was up on my feet applauding.

But Manchester went from hero to zero less than sixty seconds later. Fagan received the ball in the area and he’d turned away from Manchester, only for the captain to trip him up. Fagan went down willingly and referee Defoe had no option but to signal a penalty and book Manchester, despite Walters objections. Romulus left back Richard Evans made his way forward and took the penalty, just beating Jarvis’ despairing dive to his right.

The final action of the first half came in injury time when Kevin Banner had an excellent opportunity to put us back in front, but he was denied from close range by goalkeeper Harris, who pushed it wide for a corner that came to nothing.

Back in the dressing rooms for half time, I made it clear to the players that this game was theirs for the taking.

“You’re outplaying them. All you need to do is find that little bit extra in your finishing and you’ll run away with this. They’re not threatening and the only reason they’re even on level terms is because Adrian was unlucky with his challenge”

Manchester’s head seemed to drop at those words.

“Don’t worry, I’m not blaming you. You’re playing well, keep it up” I concluded. I looked around the room to see a couple of tired faces, Craven in particular, but I decided to stick with the same team for now and see wehre it would lead us.

The second half didn’t start at the same frantic pace as the first and it took until the 60th minute for something worthwhile to happen. Cornes played in a through pass for Taylor to run onto, but his pace let him down and he was forced to snap of a shot before the defender was onto him. By this points legs were starting to tire and I sent on two substitutes. James Knowles had picked up an earlier knock and came off for Ravenhill while youngster England replaced the hot-headed Walters.

We continued to push forward and Kevin Banner fizzed a shot over the bar after collecting a loose ball just outside the Romulus area. Cornes continued to find little openings in midfield and while he’s probably best as a striker, he seems to have taken to his new role as a duck to water. On 66 minutes he managed to put Ravenhill clear though, but the substitute was adjudged offside. Not that it mattered, because his effort was off target anyway.

Romulus’ sole chance of the second half came when Craven gave the ball away, leading to several mistakes at the back to let Fagan have a clear sight at goal. His effort though, was easily dealt with by Jarvis and the scores remained level. Taylor should’ve made it 2-1 the next minute, dispossessing Barnett on the edge of their area, but his effort was hit straight at the goalkeeper. We continued to be off target.

By injury time, I had my head in my hands, frustrated with our inability to finish when Craven collected the ball on the left side of our defence. He looked forward and found left winger Banner unmarked. Banner had clearly listened to my pre-match talk and played it inside to Cornes. Another short pass further and Cornes had found England, who promptly booted the ball forward into the run of Taylor. The striker charged down the left, before suddenly cutting back, wrong footing his marker and playing it back in to Cornes. The star man saw the run of Ravenhill and split the defence with a pinpoint pass. This time there was no mistake or offside flag and Ravenhill found the back of the net. The Romulus players protested to the linesman, complaining it was offside, but neither he nor Defoe was having any of it.

It was a late winner for us, but they all count

Bromsgrove Rovers 2 (Manchester, 28th, Ravenhill 92nd)

Romulus 1 (Evans (pen), 29th)

[WLKRAS]

The players got a well-earned round of applause when they left the pitch. Our finishing left something to be desired still, but at least we were creating plenty of chances. Personally, I’d barely got out of my seat before I was besieged by a foursome of journalists, local man Robbie Abraham among them.

“Did you think Romulus should’ve had a penalty at 0-0?” he asked straight up.

“No, I think the referee made the right call. Adrian used his body well and won the header fair and square”. Eyebrows shot up around me, they clearly didn’t agree.

“Do you think Manchester will get down because he gave away a penalty?” This was asked by a man wielding a Birmingham Post badge.

“Not at all, Adrian had a great game and I think their striker went down rather swiftly as soon as he felt a touch. Mind, I thought Romulus were protesting a lot today” I tried to start walking towards the dressing rooms, but the pack stuck around me as I did so.

“Will you be looking to start Ravenhill now that he scored the winner?” this was Abraham again

“We’ll have to see” I said, starting to get annoyed with them.

“What did you think about the hostile reception you got today?” Abraham followed up. The others frowned at his question but had their pens at the ready.

“I didn’t notice anything overly hostile. Now, if you’ll excuse me” I said, brushing past the journalists and into the dressing room, slamming the door behind me.

This caused the players to swiftly turn around and stare.

“Don’t worry lads, it’s not you. You did a good job today. We probably should’ve scored a few more, but it’s a win” I said with a benign smile. “Now if only those bloody vultures would sod off” I said, pointing my thumb back over my shoulder.

“Not going to happen, gaffer. You’re news ‘round the town and I don’t think Abraham is taking too well to you” Craven piped up.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Deano” I replied with a hint of sarcasm, but Craven just shook his head.

“Hey, you’re starting to win me over. I didn’t like you when you started and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one, but you seem like an alright guy who had a moment of madness. Not sure if you should be forgiven for what you did to a young kid, but I think I speak for most of us if I say we can move past it” he said and there were noises of agreement around the room. I wasn’t surprised to see Grocutt looking at his feet with a scowl. He still didn’t like me then.

“Thanks guys, that means a lot. Now, you lot best get changed and get a rest. We’re back in action on Wednesday and I’d like another three points”

[WLKRAS]

Bromsgrove off to winning start

By Robbie Abraham

Bromsgrove Rovers got their league season off to a winning start with a 2-1 win over Romulus. In truth, the margin should’ve been much greater for Chris Browne’s side, but their finishing left a lot to be desired. Browne himself received a hostile reception from the crowd due to his past and was a constant target for chants from the opposing supporters. Thankfully this didn’t seem to influence the team and they battled on to a win.

The match started well enough for Bromsgrove, though their opponents could’ve had a penalty in the first half. It was waved away by the match officials before Adrian Manchester put the Rovers ahead. He then gave a away a penalty with a silly foul and Romulus were level once more. Rovers dominated possession and play for most of the match, but it wasn’t until the dying seconds that substitute Ravenhill claimed all three points. Meanwhile, during all this, Daryll England became the youngest player to appear for Rovers at 16 years and 73 days old. Congratulations to him.

Chris Browne’s temper was clearly affected by the treatment he got and after the match he was very tempestuous with a number of journalists including myself. He almost made it sound like we’re putting the crowd up against him. I can assure you, my loyal readers, that I would never do such a thing to my beloved Rovers

R.A.

The paper had found it’s way onto my desk on Monday morning and I was obviously less than impressed with it’s contents.

“What a load of bollocks” I shouted as I tossed the entire thing into the recycling box next to my desk. Just as I did that, the chairman came in through my office door.

“What is?” he asked with a keen eye. He must’ve overheard my shouting.

“That” I said, pointing to the newspaper in the box.

“Ah yes, that’s why I’ve come to see you. I wanted to make sure you haven’t misrepresented the club in anyway. A man with your reputation can’t afford any mistakes” he reminded me.

“I can assure you, Mr Martin, that I was neither tempestuous nor affected by any alleged hostility” I told him, with a determined voice. “Did you experience any of this hostility? Maybe I was so focussed on the game that it went right over my head, but I could’ve sworn there wasn’t any?” I went on.

“There were a few murmurs, but nothing as Abraham describes. He has a hand of exaggerating, does our Robbie. Also, you can expect more of the same from him, because he doesn’t like outsiders at Rovers. Myself and Steve got a similar treatment for a few weeks until he realised that we were the only reason the club was still there. It’ll pass, especially if you keep winning. I was impressed with us yesterday, anyway. Keep that up and Robbie soon will be as well.” he said.

“Thank you, sir. Let’s hope we can keep it up.” I said as the chairman was heading for the door.

[WLKRAS]

I'll be away on holiday from tomorrow for roughly two weeks, so there will be a lull in posting for a while. Thank you all for your continued readership - C

With a midweek game already looming on the horizon, I kept training short and on a relatively low intensity. I decided to make finishing the focus of our sessions this week and had already set out a number of cones on the pitch when the players arrived. They proceeded to go through their warm-ups with curious faces as I set out my stall with Alex Watson. Grocutt was supervising the warm-ups and to be frank, he’d only have found some way to undermine the whole process.

Warm-ups done, the players started to assemble in the centre circle, but I called over to the goal on the parking lot side of the ground.

“Scott (Jarvis) and Reece (Lovell). I want you one of you in goal. Swap every five shots or so”

I’d put out a cone roughly between the edge of the box and the edge of the six yard area. An assortment of footballs were besides these. This was position one. Eight or so yards infield of that was a second cone, position two. Then there were cones on the edge of the area (position four) and the edge of the centre circle (position three).

“The rest of you, one person at each cone in the field and the rest of you can divide themselves behind the two cones on the goal line”.

The players did as they were told and spread themselves across the pitch and behind the cones on the goal line.

“Right then. Position one” I said, pointing to England who was on the goal line with a ball at his feet. “You pass it infield to position two.” At position two was Cameron Jones. “Jonesy returns it and Daryll will pass it through the air to position three”. I turned to point at Dean Curtis who was inspecting his boots.

“Pay attention Curtis!” I shouted at him. “Curtis will receive the ball, play a one-two with Jonesy and then passes it into position four.” On the edge of the box Danny Scheppel was waiting. “Danny will return it to the side Curtis specifies and Curtis will score. Or at the very least, get it on target! Player at position one goes to position two, two becomes three, three becomes four. Four picks up the ball and joins the back of the queue. Alternate between the sides of the goal to start”

“What happens if we miss the target?” Gill asked.

“Simple. I’ve picked this side of the pitch because it has the smallest stand. As you can see, the good Mr. O’Hagen has removed the netting that is intended to catch any stray shots. In effect, this means that if you miss, there’s a good chance you’re going to hit whatever is in the car park. Which includes our good chairman’s Jaguar”

At this there were a few sharp intakes of breath and a fair few concerned faces.

“You break anything in the car park? You pay for it from your wages”

[WLKRAS]

And now that I'm back, we will continue this tale

Beaconsfield v Bromsgrove Rovers, Holloways Park, 26-08-09, 19:45

Needless to say, shooting practice went a lot better that day, even though Martin Hier nearly took out the chairman’s Jag. Luckily for him (and probably for me also), his shot whizzed over by inches and thudded into the side of my port-a-cabin office. No damage was done though, so all was good. It made my quietly confident for our next match, away at Beaconsfield. It was a good hour and a half away, which meant we left early Wednesday afternoon to avoid rush hour traffic. On the way there, I read the scouting report Jack Kamara had provided me with. In essence it was a padded out match report of their opening game against Aylesbury. Beaconsfield had lost 2-0 without making much of an impression on their opponents. In fact, they’d only had one shot all match and it had been well off the mark. No wonder we’d been billed as pre-match favourites.

I’d been forced to leave Taylor, Byrne and Richards out of the team due to fatigue, although Taylor did make the trip as a substitute, unlike the other two. Ibhadon, Jones and Wells came into the team in their place. It was decidedly cold, only twelve degrees, as the clouds did their best to prevent the late evening sun from peeking through. It was the home side who kicked off, but we quickly took control of the game. Cameron Jones was doing his best to stake a claim for a starting berth and he fired a shot wide on seven minutes as we got our first sight of goal. Chris Cornes also came close with a free kick but that went over the bar. For the moment, our shooting practice seemed to have been to no avail.

At least Beaconsfield weren’t creating anything from open play, but they did seem dangerous from set pieces. Corners especially and they had a few of them in the first half that led to opportunities. Jarvis dealt with the ones on target though and the ones of the mark were not close enough to be a major cause for concern.

Just before the half hour, we had a great chance. Chris Cornes lined up a free kick on the left hand side of the pitch and floated it into the far corner. Adrian Manchester’s eyes had already lit up as it was the perfect ball in, but unfortunately, Beaconsfield goalkeeper Coulson managed to get his fingers to it and tip it over Manchester’s head. Two minutes later, we should have been in front. James Knowles picked an inch perfect pass to put Jones one-on-one with Coulson, but the right winger hit it straight at the keeper. I suppose this one was on target at least.

Knowles once again looked very lively. His movement was again top drawer and he often managed to peel away from his marker without the defender even realizing. That was exactly what happened just before the break. Kevin Banner picked up the ball in midfield and found a short pass into Knowles. Knowles, having dropped deep, played it across the middle to Cornes before sneaking forward again. On his part, Cornes swung a great cross-field pass to Banner, who’d continued his run down the left. Banner was unchallenged and had all the time in the world to fire in the cross. Knowles had once again made a clever run, off the back off the defender to the far past and Banner’s cross was spot on for the Burton loanee to head in. 1-0 right on half time.

My message at half time was clear.

“Don’t get careless and let them back in. You’re playing well, now keep the pressure on. Remember the finishing, keep it on target. Or I’ll have to get the chairman to park his Jaguar behind what ever goal we’re supposed to score in”.

That drew laughter from the players. They were relaxed and happy. Perhaps a bit too relaxed as we started again, because we didn’t manage to create anything for a while. Neither did Beaconsfield, until substitute Thompson fired narrowly over. That was my cue to make some changes and take off the tiring Chris Cornes and James Knowles and replace them with England and Taylor.

With Cornes off the field, it Cameron Jones claimed the set pieces and he was creating some danger from them. He fired a free kick just over the bar and then sent a wonderful ball in for Kevin Banner, whose header was cleared off the line by the Beaconsfield defence.

Just as it was starting to look like we weren’t going to get a second, Ibhadon chased down a long ball down the left-hand side. He cut inside and found Taylor on the edge of the area. Jones was steaming in from midfield, like we’d practiced in training, but instead of laying it off, Taylor turned his man, Arthur, and burst into the penalty area. Arthur, desperate to get back, stuck his leg in and Taylor went down in a heap. Penalty! There was another flurry of protests, from Arthur in particular, but the referee waved them all away. Taylor picked himself up before grabbing the ball and placing it on the spot. Coulson in goal was trying to put him off by jumping up and down, but Taylor wasn’t fazed and fired it low into the right corner of the goal. Two-nil and that was the end of that. The remainder of the match petered out with Beaconsfield’s resistance now broken.

Beaconsfield 0

Bromsgrove Rovers 2 (Knowles, 42nd, Taylor (pen) 85th)

[WLKRAS]

The coach ride back was cheerful. I sat in my accustomed seat, just behind the driver, where it was quiet, but further towards the back the players seemed to be having a good time. Someone had managed to get a couple six packs in and they were having a little mini-celebration. Despite the fact that we were still on negative points, I left them to their own devices. Anyone not fit for training tomorrow would feel my wrath then. Some of the older players appeared to be engaged in a game of cards, while the younger ones were playing with their phones, ipods and God knows what other gadgets they had.

I was doing what I’d always done when I was a player. I was reading a book. A fond student of history, I’d picked up a copy of The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli. As a player, I’d often got stick for my reading. It was always books and while there were plenty of plain novels in there, there was the odd work of literature or even historical works in there which baffled my colleagues. But apparently as the manager, you’re allowed to read. There was no comments from any of the players, not even from Marlon Walters, who’s usually the first to pick up on anything. In fact, he came up to the front of the bus with a can of beer in his hand.

“Want a beer, gaffer?” he asked, holding out the can. I stared at it long and hard before shaking my head.

“No, thanks. I still have to drive myself home tonight. As do most of you, so take it easy ey?”

“One or two cans isn’t going to hurt, boss” he said seriously.

“Put it this way” I said, standing up to address the players “Any of you arrested for drink driving are out of the club. And any of you not fit for training tomorrow can do an extra large version of the ‘The Star’ until you’ve worked the alcohol out. Do I make myself clear?” There were murmurs of discontent, but the majority of the players nodded. “Oh and the next time anyone smuggles beer onto the coach, I’ll find out who it was and they’ll get docked a week’s wages. Enjoy while you can lads, cause this is the last time” I scowled at them before sitting back down.

“Hardass” I could hear Walters whisper to himself as he walked back up towards the back.

I turned back to my book and the line I’d just read.

And here comes in the question whether it is better to be loved rather than feared, or feared rather than loved. It might perhaps be answered that we should wish to be both; but since love and fear can hardly exist together, if we must choose between them, it is far safer to be feared than loved

Feared indeed. The threat of ‘The Star’ would do that to them. It’s a conditioning exercise. Five cones are set out, one in the centre and then one in each direction, about ten yards away. Players start at the bottom cone and sprint to the middle, then back to the bottom cone, to the middle, then to the right, back to the middle and then back to the bottom. They always have to return all the way to the first cone and can only move on to the next cone after passing through the middle. (Bottom, Middle, Bottom, Middle, Right, Middle, Bottom, Middle, Right, Middle, Top, Middle, Right, etc). It’s a bitch of an exercise, because it has to be done at a 95% pace and once you get to the left most cone, you have to track your way back. As a player I used to love it, because I could do it at 100% and still have something left by the end of it while some of my team mates would be hanging on to the boarding around the pitch, sometimes being sick. It was enough to scare fully fit Premier League players. These lads would be terrified. I listened carefully and could tell that the coach had quietened. There was no more whooping and shouting. There were no longer the sounds of cans of beer being opened. I could not make out what was being said in the hushed voices, but it was no doubt something less than flattering about my little speech. Ah well, such is life. It would be easier for me to be feared rather than loved, so I might as well be feared. As Old Nick said, it was far safer.

[Wegason]

Still enjoying this, looking forward to more.

[WLKRAS]

Thanks Weg, glad you're enjoying it

The mere threat of “The Star” had been enough. Players turned up fit and eager for training the next day, so I kept it at a lower pace. We had an FA Cup tie at the weekend, away to Greenwich and then another midweek agame against Aylesbury. In short, matches were coming thick and fast, and it wouldn’t do to burn the players out already.

My good friend Robbie Abraham had rang for an appointment this time and I gave him a fifteen minute slot on the Friday before the match. As much as I’d like to block him completely, I’m sure that wasn’t going to go down well and the man does seem to have a loyal readership. He turned up in his usual outfit, complete with grey raincoat and hat. He really couldn’t look more like a cartoon journalist if he tried.

He cut straight to the chase (probably because his fifteen minute slot didn’t allow for formalities or pleasantries).

“Will you need to rest players because of your compact schedule?” he started off with.

“We’ll have to see about that. The schedule hasn’t been kind to us so far, with a lot of games in a short period of time, but resting players is something I’d have to consider before each match. If I were to rest anyone though, I wouldn’t be letting our opponents get wind of that, so I can’t really comment any further”

“Of course, of course” Abraham nodded, scribbling away on his pad. “You played well against Beaconsfield, what effect do you think that’ll have on the players?”

“Well, we want to put together a good run. It’s imperative that we get back into positive points as soon as possible” I replied.

“I watched training earlier and there seemed to be quite some emphasis on defensive practice, does this mean you’ll be starting with a defensive tactic?”

“No, not at all. I’ve always said I want the team to play attacking, entertaining football, but we have to make sure we do our duties at the back” I said, wondering how he’d managed to see training. I hadn’t spotted anyone around the ground. Unless he’d talked to someone of course. I glanced at my watch. His time was nearly up.

“Have I got time for one more?” the reporter asked.

“If you’re quick” I replied

“Are you confident of a win?” he asked. Not a question I’d expected. There were no personal attacks for once?

“Yeah, I think we have an excellent chance if we play to our standard”. With that I stood to indicate the interview was over and Abraham quickly scurried out the door again. In my head though, all I kept asking myself was, how did he know about training? I was convinced he hadn’t been there. So who had talked?

[WLKRAS]

Greenwich v Bromsgrove Rovers, Oakley Park, 29-08-09, 15:00

Whoever had talked, it would have to be dealt with later. We had a two and a half hour coach trip to London ahead, to take on Greenwich in our FA Cup 2nd round qualifier. We had a few tired legs in the team with a game every three days, so I decided on some more changes. Richards returned in the centre of defence while Curtis, Cottrill and Smith came in up front and on the wings.

We arrived in Bromley, London ahead of time and even had a chance to inspect the pitch before kickoff. It wasn’t a pretty sight. I remember referring to the pitch at the Victoria Ground looking like a herd of cows had marauded across. Well, if that was the case, Oakley Road had had an invasion of thundering elephants. I dread to think what it would have looked like in winter time. In any case, it didn’t matter. We had to play on it regardless.

“Let’s set ourselves a target here people. This is the greatest cup competition on the planet. Let’s do ourselves proud and get as far as we possibly can. I’d be absolutely delighted if we could get into the FA Cup proper. Let’s be realistic, we’re not going to play at Wembley, but if we could get into round one, we might get a decent side and play somewhere where the pitch is a lot better than here!”

That comment drew laughter from the players. They were relaxed.

“Don’t get me wrong guys, we should get a win here. Bad pitch or not, we should be far superior to Greenwich. Beware of the pitch, don’t let any divots or what not get you. And go out there and get me a win”

Greenwich had a good support, nearly 700 people had turned up for this FA Cup tie and they saw Bromsgrove dominate from the first minute. Chris Cornes had a go from a free kick 30 yards out, but the shot skimmed wide. Before fifteen minutes were up, Dean Curtis had wasted two further chances, first a shot from distance and then one from inside the area, cutting inside on his left foot, only to shoot over.

Now, in the 19th minute, we had a corner. Cornes casually strolled up to the left side of the pitch to take it. His delivery was poor, right at the defender at the near post, but he could only clear it back out to the left. Cornes picked it back up and swung in a much better cross this time, aiming for the centre of the penalty area. James Knowles was waiting in the middle to nod home from close range. Immediately there were protests from the Greenwich, complaining about a possible offside to the assistant on the near side. He wouldn’t budge though and the goal stood. 1-0 Bromsgrove.

Greenwich tried to hit back with a good move down our right, but striker Gary Dunn headed the ball just over the bar, seeing it land on top of the goal. AT the other end, we continued to create chances, Chris Cornes the inspiration. On the half hour, he played in Cottrill, but the right midfielder failed to score from a one-on-one opportunity, hitting hit shot straight at the goalkeeper. Cornes himself got closer, having a go from distance five minutes later and smacking his shot straight off the crossbar.

[WLKRAS]

On the bench, I turned to coach Alex Watson beside me (Grocutt always kept to the far side of the dugout).

“Watson, why the hell can’t we just score?” He delivered his reply with a stone-faced expression.

“Don’t know, Holmes, you’re the expert.” It had the subs in stitches and even I couldn’t suppress a smile despite my mood. It soon brightened though, thanks to Knowles. The move was again started by Cornes, from the centre of the park. He played it in to Curtis on the left side, drawing defenders that way. Under pressure, Curtis played it straight back, but with the defence still leaning to their right, there was space for Cornes to switch the play to the right side to Knowles. The on loan youngster controlled it, letting his marker come close before laying it back to Cornes and spinning round his man. Cornes got the just and played a lovely through ball, all Knowles had to do was apply the finish. That was no problem for him, firing high into the net from twelve yards out to make it two-nil. Watson was enjoying himself even more now.

“There you go, boss” he laughed.

Rather than accepting the fact that we’d completely torn them open, Greenwich immediately started protesting to the assistant once again. The referee wasn’t impressed by their antics and had some strong words for Greenwich captain Steve Farrington.

My half time team talk was short and sweet. Keep it up and give me more of the same. This the players did and Curtis had an early shot tipped onto the bar before Chris Cornes fired a free kick just wide. Seven minutes after the break, Cornes once again played in Knowles, but determined not to let the youngster get his hattrick, Greenwich defender Hancok tripped him on the edge of the six yard area. Penalty. There followed more protesting from the Greenwich players and this time, the man in black Bob Harrold handed out a yellow card to the Greenwich right back.

Knowles meanwhile had brushed himself off and placed the ball on the spot hoping to get his hattrick in. He ran up, hit his shot and…. Aimed it straight at the goalie. His head dropped straight away, disappointment all over his face. It did take the sting out of our attacks and suddenly the players seemed to tire. We limited Greenwich to shots from distance, but they didn’t manage to bother Jarvis. Even the introduction of three substitutes didn’t perk us up any and the game slowly petered out. Greenwich didn’t have the ability and we didn’t have the legs. Two-nil was a good win in any case.

Greenwich 0

Bromsgrove Rovers 2 (Knowles, 19th, 37th, m/pen 53rd)

[WLKRAS]

Apologies for the lack of posting lately, I'm incredibly busy at the moment, and I will be until after Christmas No plans to abandon this anytime soon though!

It was a good win and as well as qualifying for the Third Qualifying Round, we also earned £1500. The next round would see us face Tooting & Mitcham United, a team from the Isthmian Premier League, in order words a league above us. It should be a good challenge. It meant our meeting with Chesham had to be re-arranged for a new date, moving from the 12th of September to the 23rd. By coming on as a late substitute, young Bobby Towey took Daryll England’s record as youngest ever player for Bromsgrove, appearing at the tender age of 16 years and six days.

As I was digesting all this good news, my phone rang. I lifted the receiver to my ear and answered

“Hello?”

“G’daay lad, tis Steve ‘ere. T’chairman’s asked me t’invite ya for dinner at the Hop Pole Inn. Tis just down t’road” the director of football said in his unmistakable drawl.

“Yeah, sure. When?” I asked

“Tuesday. Day before Aylesbury. Say around seven? T’idea is to talk o’er the past month’s results and such with some food and a pint or two” My heart skipped a beat at the mention of alcohol.

“Errr… Yeah, sure. Sounds good to me” I managed to say.

“Excellent. We’ll see you then”

I put down the phone and shuddered again at the idea of going to a pub. I was sober. I was on the way back to normality, with a job and a new career in football. Going to a pub was the last thing I needed. But I couldn’t very well refuse, could I? That would just look bad. And lead to a whole lot of awkward questions about why I don’t want to go to the pub. And that may well lead to my being dismissed and thus going back to the drink. I think the technical term is between a rock and a hard place. My term for it was certainly less flattering then that.

[WLKRAS]

I deliberately arrived five minutes late at the Hop Pole Inn, so that Daniels and Martin would already be there and I’d have to be on my best behaviour. The Hop Pole Inn was a nice enough pub, although the furnishings could probably do with an update. The place was about half full when I walked in and the dinner crowd seemed to be finishing up their meals rather than just arriving, so it was only going to get quieter. I spotted the chairman and the director of football and headed over to their table. They were both studying the menu with a pint of bitter stood in front of them.

“Evening gentlemen” I said as I sat down.

“Ah Chris, good to have you here” Martin replied. Daniels meanwhile glanced at his watch in a manner that suggested he was not impressed with my timekeeping. I just ignored him and picked a menu up off the table.

“Anything you can recommend?” I asked.

“It’s all decent enough” Daniels answered this time. “But don’t have the curries, they’re not very good”

I glanced over the menu and realised it was just like any other pub. The Surf ‘n Turf looked decent enough, so I settled for that. Suddenly, a waitress appeared beside me. Apparently, the place did table service rather than forcing you to go up to the bar. It went up in my estimation straight away.

“Can I get you a drink?” she asked in a melodious voice. Combined with her beautiful deep blue eyes, the effect was almost hypnotic. I was lost in space for a few seconds before I managed to regain my composure.

“What lagers have you got on draught?” I asked. She glanced back towards the bar, tucking a stray lock of her red hair behind her ear as she did so.

“We’ve got Becks, Fosters or Carling”

“Becks then, please” I said with a smile.

“Coming right up” she said returning it with one of her own.

As she walked back towards the bar, I couldn’t help but look back over my shoulder at her. She was about five-seven, with long red hair and what looked like a well maintained body. She wasn’t super model skinny, but she would have plenty of jealous looks from other women. At a guess, I estimated her at about twenty-eight. As I turned back to table, I saw the chairman looking at me with a look of amusement.

“She’s nice, isn’t she?” he asked with a grin.

“Shame ‘er personality don’t match ‘er looks” Daniels chipped in as if they were some sort of duo act.

“Oh?” was all I said.

“Her be a right bitch” the Director of Football went on.

“That so?” I asked. Probably because you tried to grope her while drunk or something, you crazy farmer I thought to myself. Daniels just snorted and busied himself with the menu.

The waitress came back with my pint a few minutes later

“There you go” she said, again with a smile. I couldn’t see how Daniels thought she was a bitch. She seemed quite the cheerful sort of person.

“Are you ready to order your food” she added. This we were. I went with my Surf ‘N Turf idea, while the chairman opted for Pork Chops and Daniels had a Beef & Ale Pie. The waitress, Evelyn according to her name tag, went off on her merry way to inform the kitchen of our requirements. Meanwhile the chairman got down to business.

“Well Chris, we’re satisfied so far. We’ve not dropped any points and we’ve progressed in the FA Cup. At this rate, it won’t be long before we’re back in positive points” he chuckled. “I’ve been told that the fans were very happy with our win against Beaconsfield and that they were impressed with the way the club played”

“Thank you sir, I think we’ve started well and if we’d had our shooting boots on we could’ve had a few more goals already. Hasn’t hurt us yet, but we’re going to keep practicing, because we still need to improve in that area” I replied

“Yes, I think you’re right there. Meanwhile, on the financial front, we’ve made a lost of £1640, which is something that will not be sustainable in the long run, so that is something that needs looking at. The main expense was in wages and you are 27 pounds per week over budget at the moment. I know August is a funny month, but considering our recent brush with administration, we would like to start churning out a profit as soon as possible” Martin said with a stern face.

I swallowed hard. My extra appointments on the staff front had pushed us over the wage limit and the chairman seemed not too impressed with that.

“On the whole though, we are satisfied and if you can manage to get the expenditure under control, then we have no doubt that we’re in for a bright future” the chairman finished. “Anything you’d like to put in, Chris?” he asked next.

“Only one thing really sir. I got an email from the league this afternoon saying that Chris Cornes came second in the monthly Player of the Month awards. Chris has been playing very well so far, and I think he’ll be a key player for us this season”

Steve Daniels nodded empathically.

“Yes, he’s a very good player. We’ll have to make sure we keep hold of him” he agreed.

His face soon soured again when Evelyn turned up with our food. It also marked the end of the official part of our meeting. Conversation drifted away from Bromsgrove and just to football in general. Both board members were however keen to avoid any mention of Bolton or my sudden retirement. I was nursing my pint, drawing it out over the night, despite Evelyn coming to ask a few times if we wanted any more drinks. It was about nine when the chairman declared the meeting closed and he would be off home to see his wife. He left enough cash to cover the bill and headed for the door. Daniels took this as his sign to leave and headed off as well. I was on my own.

I contemplated staying for another pint and maybe strike up a conversation with Evelyn. Nervously, I twirled my glass around on the coaster, trying to make up my mind. My heart and my head were having an almighty shouting match inside my head. The rational part of me knew I should get the hell out of that pub before I drank myself into a stupor. The other half was determined I should stay and find out more about her. I couldn’t put my finger on the why, but she had clearly made a lasting impression.

I emptied my glass and stood up from the table. My mind was made up. My head had won. I was going home. As I turned towards, I saw Evelyn pulling a pint behind the bar. It was in the same direction as the door. On instinct, I picked up the glass and started walking. As I got to the bar, I paused and put the glass down. She smiled at me.

“Thank you. Would you like another?”

“No, thanks. I best be off.” I smiled back at her.

“Yes, you wouldn’t want to be late home to the missus” she winked.

“I’m not married” was my reply.

“Oh.” She said. I could’ve sworn there was a twinkle in her eye as she spoke.

“Good night” I said, turning for the door, my inward smile as large as the mouth of the river Thames.

“Night! Maybe we’ll see you again?”

“Most definitely” I whispered as I pulled open the door and stepped outside into the chilly air.

[Elrithral]

A really excellent take on one of the most used backstories. Great read too. Good luck, WLKRAS, i'll be following.

[chesterfan2]

Nice story this. Hoping you'll keep it up, I look forward to more.

[elland road boo boys]

Really good read - nice back story as well.

Will be following KOTGW