Rob Ridgway's "Rat Pack"

tenthreeleader · January 12, 2009

Wednesday, December 17

“Are you telling me he’s not going to play unless he gets a new contract?”

“No, I am not,” Dumont said. I was in a vile mood – my head was pounding courtesy of 24 solid hours of coughing and sneezing, and Dumont’s attitude was something I wasn’t keen on experiencing for one moment longer than I had to.

“Well, that’s a relief,” I said, a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

“Rob,” Madejski said, seated next to me, in a gently corrective tone.

I said nothing further, simply sitting back in my chair. Our appearance was temporary in any event – the club’s negotiators were already seated to our immediate left, armed with the terms we were willing to grant.

“We do not wish to make this difficult,” Dumont said. “My client has made clear his wish to stay here and I am accommodating his wishes.” The agent had an expression on his face that suggested he had had a conversation with Sonko that hadn’t gone as well as he had hoped it might.

Not that this mattered to me, of course.

“We’re willing to listen,” the chairman said. “Our negotiators have the club’s proposals in mind and if it becomes necessary to return Rob or myself to these talks we are at your disposal.”

“You will not stay?” Dumont asked, first looking at Madejski and then at me.

“No,” the chairman replied. “We won’t.”

Then he rose. “Gentlemen, we will wait to hear from you,” Madejski said. Beside him, I rose and we took our leave of the negotiators. Dumont looked put out that he wasn’t getting to talk to the big dog – meaning Madejski, of course – and I had to suppress a smile of satisfaction. The way he had treated me during Sonko’s brief holdout had done him no favors today.

# # #

So, while the money men tried to do business, I retreated to my office at the stadium and tried to concentrate on the next task at hand – what on earth I was going to do about the visit of Patty’s parents coming up on Saturday?

“What do you give to the man who hates your guts?” I asked myself, as I figured out what a suitable gift for my father-in-law might be. I couldn’t think of anything. That wasn’t good.

“There has to be something,” I said to no one in particular. “There has to be a way I can show the joy of the season. It’s my first Christmas with Patty and there just has to be a way.”

I sat alone in my office racking my brain. “There has to be,” I repeated.

There has to be. Doesn’t there have to be?

# # #

Funny game, football.

Just when you think the fates of the game will reach out and swallow you whole, you get a result like tonight. Arsenal played its match in hand on the league – and lost.

Not only did they lose, they lost to Newcastle, which has pundits, columnists and smart alecks alike all shaking their heads with equal vigor. Vagner Love opened the scoring eight minutes into the match tonight at St. James’ Park – and that was the only goal of the match.

The Magpies took the pitch to a decidedly mixed reaction from their faithful. Sam Allardyce’s face is adorning dart boards all over the black and white portions of Tyneside, but his boys went out and did the league – especially ourselves – a huge favor tonight by managing to do the business at home.

So now Arsenal’s lead on the field is three points over ourselves and Manchester United with everyone level on games. Chelsea still has a match in hand, though, and if they can beat Everton before Christmas they’ll leapfrog both us and United and into second place on goal difference.

However, perhaps the most surprising thing about the match wasn’t what happened on the pitch but what happened afterward, with Allardyce saying Arsenal isn’t a title contender. That’s a pretty cheeky thing to say, what with his own club battling relegation, but he said it and he didn’t take it back. I suspect Wenger will have some sort of comment for the press tomorrow, and it’s not going to be full of holiday cheer.

I watched the match from bed, with a hot water bottle against my chest. I feel miserable and even Patty took pity on me.

“We have to get you better for the weekend,” she said. “You won’t last ten minutes with my parents feeling like that.”

I had to fight down the urge to suggest that maybe Martin could use a good dose of the crud, but she pre-empted me.

“And if you get my dad sick, he can’t fly home until he’s better and he’ll have to stay with us,” she teased, kissing my fevered forehead as she talked.

“Anything but that,” I groaned. “Please, anything but that.”

# # #

tenthreeleader · January 13, 2009

Thursday, December 18

I welcomed the senior players back today for a couple of days light training before we get serious about Liverpool next week.

For me, that match is the measuring stick – the champions away will tend to set a standard for most teams, and I expect Liverpool to do that for us.

While I was at least starting to breathe a little better, I was in no shape to take training with the team today. Dillon did that, but I handled the morning video session myself. The way I’ve been feeling, about the only thing I’ve been up to is watching video so I was ideally suited to my task for the day.

“First, don’t anyone come near me,” I joked as the team sat down in our meeting room. “Second, while you don’t come near me, listen to everything I’m going to tell you.”

# # #

I sounded so bad this morning that even the media cut me a little slack in my afternoon gaggle. Weatherby pretended to cover her mouth and nose as she talked with me, drawing a smile from the manager and laughs from the rest of our modest press corps.

Today, though, we had visitors from the northwest as some of the Liverpool beat reporters made the trip to Berkshire to watch the upstarts for a couple of days with no matches this weekend.

I’ve read their stories before – American trying to make good – but these reporters weren’t so much like that and I appreciated their approach. Perhaps figuring those stories have already been done (and they have) they instead have decided to try to write stories about why we’re sticking around (which haven’t been done).

All I could think of as I was questioned by the Liverpool media was how things can change in a year’s time. I haven’t seen Emiliani much lately – and probably won’t, as long as we stay successful – and reminded myself that the Premiership for even a moderately successful manager is the best place in the world to be.

“You haven’t spent much, and you’ve sold practically nothing,” I was informed. “Are you worried at all that lack of depth will doom you like last year?”

Of course, that is exactly my fear, but I tried not to let it show. “The players on this club know what’s expected of them, whether or not they are in the senior squad,” I explained. “It’s no different than it is for one of the Big Four clubs. My players are expected to give us a chance to win every match we play. So far they have done a terrific job. I won’t say anything else, because I couldn’t say anything else and stay credible.”

# # #

I then went to Broad Street and The Oracle to try to find Christmas presents for my new extended family. I got a very deferential amount of space from people who didn’t take long to figure out who I was, though finally a youngster got up the nerve to approach me while I waded through the men’s department at Burton Menswear looking for ties.

I smiled as I saw the line of clothing endorsed by Sevilla striker and ex-Liverpool man Michael Owen. I figured that even though Martin couldn’t tell Michael Owen from Michael Jackson the gift of a Michael Owen tie would still make him cringe, and sighed heavily.

Paula was easier to buy for, thankfully. She shares a number of similarities with her darling daughter, so before long I had a tennis bracelet picked out that I was sure she’d like.

Of course, when you buy something like that for your mother-in-law, you can’t get away with a necktie for her husband. So I had to raise my game.

I walked to the other end of Broad Street and into the Broad Street Mall, which I’m sure would have made Patty’s television producer happy, and marched straight into F. Hinds.

“Ah, Mr. Ridgway,” I heard from two different salesmen as I stepped inside. Both of them had been quick to notice but had tied each other on who had recognized me first. I smiled and motioned to the two men and let them figure out who was going to walk me through the selections at hand.

“I’d like to look at your watches, please,” I said.

# # #

It was a pretty good night for English teams in the UEFA Cup. Bolton absolutely had to win tonight against Livorno at home to go through to the knockout stages and did, with a well- deserved 2-0 victory. Despite being idle this evening, Everton also won its group.

However, in spite of all that, the commentators were talking about Robin van Persie’s decision not to attend Wenger’s training session today. He’s playing, and playing well, but evidently not as often as he’d like.

I wonder sometimes if Lita has the same thoughts as van Persie does. When I’ve called on Leroy he has been there more often than not, but everyone wants to play all the time in this game, even though Lita’s role is quite often spectacular for us.

All any manager expects from his players is that they understand their roles and act professional on and off the pitch – which is to say, to show up for every scheduled team activity including training and to avoid the constabulary when out on the town.

But media also has a habit of grossly misreporting what goes on at clubs. Take Sonko’s case for example. Today, negotiations continued with Dumont on Sonko’s contract and progress is being made. That is a dead-sure indication that I have nothing to do with the talks.

Frankly, that’s fine with me – I’d rather manage the matches and work practices than have a lot to do with negotiations, money matters and even (say it quietly) player procurement. From my point of view, I do the work that has to be done in August and January and don’t want anyone else to do it, but I much prefer matching wits with opponents and feeling the ebb and flow of the match.

Of course there’s a balance and if you can’t build a team you can’t win. But one is a lot more fun for me than the other.

So I walked past the boardroom and saw Dumont talking with Reading negotiatiors who at times appeared exasperated. I wondered if they were having as much fun with the agent as I had had. I figured not.

# # #

tenthreeleader · January 14, 2009

Friday, December 19

Unfortunately, I’m turning the corner.

I realize that’s a crummy attitude to have with my in-laws coming to visit tomorrow, but I woke up this morning starting to feel better. Obviously, the club needs that to happen sooner rather than later, and I don’t mind it myself, but my customary attitude of reasonable optimism tempered with a good, healthy dose of sarcasm is now being replaced by a fatalistic attitude that will take time to remove.

I dare not show that to Patty, of course, even though she knows I’m not thrilled about the prospect of extended time with Martin or any sort of “summit” meeting she and her mother think isn’t going to happen.

I have to remember that he loves his daughter and wants what’s best for her just like I do – but what he thinks is best isn’t what I think is best. Thankfully, it also isn’t what Patty thinks is best.

She finally brought up the issue this morning as we sat at breakfast.

“You do know you’re going to have to talk with him about this,” she said. “You can’t hide it any longer.”

“Yes, I know,” I replied, as I watched it trying to snow outside. That in itself is depressing, as the temperature took a real plunge overnight. We would be training indoors today. “But who is going to make sure Martin actually listens to what I have to say this time?”

“You are,” she said. “I can ask, my mother can ask, but the one who makes the point has to be you.”

“If you don’t mind my saying so, honey, that’s not a hell of a lot of help.”

“You’re the motivator of men,” she reminded me. “Obviously, my mother and I both agree with you in all this but sooner or later you’re going to have to be the one to convince him.”

“And if I don’t?” What happens then?”

“You will,” she said. “Honey, it’s not like I’d leave you. There’s no Plan B here. It’s up to you and my dad to iron things out but at the end of the day, I’m yours and that’s all there is to it.”

# # #

Listening to the BBC this morning on the drive to training helped me clear my head a bit. The speculation is that West Ham wants to sign Djimi Traore away from Roland Nilsson at Portsmouth. Also, in a bit of higher-profile news, Kevin Davies is reportedly not in Sammy Lee’s plans at Bolton and may be on the move next month. Cardiff, which is desperate for someone who can put the ball in the net, is reportedly top of the list of suitors.

But there was something else to consider when I arrived at the ground. My mobile phone rang and I answered to find my chairman on the other end.

“The negotiators have a deal regarding Sonko,” he said. “It’s within salary structure and I’m authorizing the signing.”

“Any effect on money available in January?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “However, he’s getting a slight raise so it will affect the balance for salaries.”

I nodded. I understood that. It’s now more important than ever for me to cull the reserve squad in January. There are players there who simply shouldn’t be on our books and it’s possible I’ll sell under the odds simply to move salaries off the books from players who haven’t a prayer of getting a first-team game unless the plague strikes Berkshire.

“News event planned?” I asked.

“The PR staff is working on it. The contract will be signed after the morning session so right after lunch we’ll host media.”

“Good,” I answered. “Today is a light day anyway. We could use a bit of positive press.”

# # #

“I never really wanted to leave,” Sonko told the cameras right after putting pen to paper on a four-year contract extension. It puts him in the top third of our wage earners – and the thing of it is, the way he has played for the overwhelming majority of this season tells me he’s worth the expenditure. He really has raised the level of his game.

“So was all this holdout talk a ploy for a new deal?” Weatherby asked.

“No,” the defender said. “I do not work like that.”

“Then how can you explain the actions of your agent?”

“He wants what’s best for me,” Sonko explained. “That’s why I pay him.”

I didn’t like the way this conversation was starting to go, so I interjected. “We’re just happy to have all this behind us, Jill,” I said. “That’s the bottom line. It was a distraction for both Ibrahima and his teammates while we were in a pretty important part of our schedule. Now we have this behind us, we can move forward and we can prepare for a really big match against Liverpool knowing everyone’s on the same sheet of music.”

“Will he be prepared to step in and justify that salary?”

“Every player has to justify his salary every time he puts on the shirt,” I said. “I have to justify mine every time I step onto the touchline. We all do – you justify yours every time you write a column or cover this team. The idea that signing a big contract leads to heightened expectations is perfectly natural, but it’s something these players live with no matter how much money they make. Fans expect value for money each and every day and these players know that.”

With that, we went out and ran the afternoon session.

# # #

tenthreeleader · January 15, 2009

Saturday, December 20

“Rob.”

“Martin.”

“Good to see you.” My father-in-law extended his hand as we stood at a Heathrow baggage claim. Around us, people were reuniting for the holidays with hugs, happy little shrieks of joy and shouts of recognition from friends and family gone too long.

And in the middle of it, you could cut the tension in our little group with a knife. It was hard.

I shook his offered hand, to the relief of my wife and mother-in-law, and together we waited for their baggage.

“So how was the flight?” I asked.

“Long,” he answered. “But not as long as the flight to Italy. I’ll give it that much.”

“Well, that can’t be avoided without the aid of some sort of seismic event,” I smiled. “It’s a ways from Illinois to England.”

“Too far,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. His face was a mask.

“Rob, are you happy with your job?” That was Paula, desperate to change the subject onto something more positive.

“Very,” I said. “We’re doing well, people seem happy and above all people are treating Patty very well. I hoped that would happen but really they’ve embraced her, and that’s more important to me than how I’m treated.”

“So what you’re saying is no one’s tried to kill her.” Nothing like cutting to the chase.

“Martin,” Paula warned. “Stop.”

I tried not to frown, and looked at him. “No, Martin, no one has tried to kill my wife. I think you’d have known about it, since you’d have been on the first plane over here if anyone had tried, and we both know that.”

The carousel brought the luggage and mercifully, that stopped the conversation while we gathered up Martin and Paula’s items. We then headed through the concourse, with more and more heads turning to catch a glimpse of us as we walked through to the car park.

“Do you have any idea what arguing in public is going to provoke, Martin?” I asked quietly as we walked through the concourse.

“Enlighten me.” The quiet Midwestern ‘aw-shucks’ demeanor he had had when we met was now long gone, replaced by a hardened interior that had been tempered into cold steel by years on an auto assembly line.

Fine. He had shown some steel. Now it was his turn to get a dose of mine.

“It will get to the press,” I warned. “You don’t want that. Whether you like it or not, both your daughter and your son-in-law are well known in this country and if there’s trouble in public, it will get out. You don’t want to answer those kind of questions.”

“Are you threatening me, Rob?” he asked.

“No, Martin, I’m not. I respect you as my wife’s father and I wouldn’t do that. However, I am telling you how it is over here. If you want to spend the next two months answering tabloid media questions here and in the States after you go home, this needs to end right here and right now.”

“I wouldn’t mind giving my opinion,” he said, and I looked at him evenly.

“Think of the invasion of Paula’s privacy,” I said. “Are you sure you really want that? Do you really want that sort of trouble – every day – until they decide they’ve had enough of you? Honestly? Use your head, for Pete’s sake.”

I had had enough of him already, and he had only just landed.

I could see his face getting red as he realized I was right. That had to kill him.

“When we get to your house,” he said. “Not a second later.”

“Fair enough,” I said. With that, we lapsed into silence until we got to the car park. So far, not so good.

# # #

tenthreeleader · January 16, 2009

We arrived home and the first thing my in-laws saw was a perfectly trimmed Christmas tree waiting in our sitting room. Patty grinned when everyone saw it – she had done the work last night – and it really looked wonderful.

“Now this is the way to celebrate the season,” I said. I smiled at Martin. “Now are you sure you really want to argue in front of this symbol of the season?”

He shook his head. “You don’t get to dictate those kinds of terms,” he said.

“In my house I do,” I answered. “Look, Martin, I’m not going to back down from you and the fact of the matter is that Patty’s my wife now. I’m going to look after her because I love her and I absolutely and categorically refuse to let a silly argument like this ruin my Christmas, especially when I am absolutely right. For crying out loud, Patty’s expecting and it’s Christmas. Can’t we finally put this to bed once and for all?”

“I don’t like what you’re doing,” he said. “Patty is being exploited and I hold you responsible for that.”

Now she interjected. “I’m a grown woman,” Patty said. “That isn’t Rob’s battle. My career isn’t between you and Rob, Dad. It’s between you and me, and you really don’t want to fight with me. Isn’t that it? Wouldn’t you rather fight with Rob instead?”

I raised my eyebrows. For someone who had said I needed to work things out with her dad on my own, she had certainly made a powerful statement. She was goading him and it seemed a dangerous tactic. I was wrong.

“That’s ridiculous,” Martin said defensively. “I can talk with you about anything and you know it.”

“Not about this,” she answered. “You’ve been talking with Rob about my behavior. That’s a lot different. He’s not responsible for the decisions I make and you need to know and understand that. And above all, you need to respect that.”

He sat down on an easy chair, stared at the tree for a long moment, and said nothing.

# # #

tenthreeleader · January 17, 2009

Sunday, December 21

We tried to put everything out of mind today and simply enjoyed a nice English winter day. It’s the first day of winter today – far and away my least favorite season of the year – but we went into London today to spend the day seeing the sights.

That’s enough to soften even the most hardened heart, and as we drove from place to place and took walking tours, the day-long event actually grew pleasant.

We made sure they got to Harrod’s but for me the best part of the day was simply seeing all the legendary sights of one of the world’s greatest cities. Everyone sees Buckingham Palace, but I was interested in some real sightseeing for Martin and Paula. The Albert Memorial, the Cenotaph, Westminster, the Tower Bridge – we saw them all.

As a student of history, I’m frankly excited to live so close to so much of it in London. Someday I’m going to take a little time to really explore the city – obviously now is not one of those times – but today offered an opportunity to do more than I have done.

It was easier to simply mill around with the huge holiday crowds on the final Sunday before Christmas. I’m doing better than I usually do in terms of my holiday shopping this year – I had Patty’s presents picked out by the first of the month for once – so watching other people running around like the proverbial headless chickens didn’t bother me. Usually I’m one of them.

There was a tinge of winter’s bite in the air today – our breath billowed out in front of us in large steam clouds as we walked around the sites we saw. I held tightly to Patty’s hand as we walked through the streets, darting in and out of the crowds of holiday tourists, sightseers and shoppers.

“This is how it’s supposed to be on a day away,” she said, looking up at me with rosy cheeks highlighting her perfect pink face.

I couldn’t help but smile, and even Martin had to agree. He was giving Ebenezer Scrooge a run for his money in terms of raw holiday malice, but seeing Patty so obviously happy despite being on my arm seemed to do him a bit of good.

We would stop every so often so Patty could rest – walking with a wee one growing inside her can tire her out on certain days – and when we sat she would simply lean her pretty head on my shoulder while her parents snapped pictures of their surroundings.

“Well, this part of the day is going well,” she said, smiling up at me.

“Can’t argue with that,” I said. “And nobody’s approached us on the street, which is another good thing. The quieter today is, the better I like it.”

# # #

Polar Bear · January 17, 2009

Been away from this forum for a while - leading to a lovely bonus in the shape of three pages of 10-3! Excellent work as ever.

tenthreeleader · January 18, 2009

Polar Bear, thanks so much for the kind words! I was starting to think the work was getting a little passe - I appreciate your comment!

___

Monday, December 22

Merry Christmas to me.

I’m being sarcastic today, unfortunately. My early present for the Liverpool match was seeing Pogatetz lying on the ground in the indoor training facility clutching his left knee.

It happened about ten minutes into our first drill, when he stretched to receive a ball during a passing drill and fell awkwardly. His cry of pain brought the physios at a sprint and brought me out of the observation platform I occasionally use when I don’t take training myself, at an equally quick pace.

It looked serious. Watching him grabbing at his knee while not rolling on the ground told me he was in a bad way. Sometimes players will augment an injury suffered in a match by rolling all over the place. Emanuel wasn’t doing that – he was simply trying to hold his knee. That was a bad sign.

His teammates gathered round and I looked for Rosenior, who knew what this meant. Liam’s form has been up and down this season – up in the Spurs match and down for most of the next month following – but now it needs to be up and and in a hurry. Anfield is no place for dips in form.

They had to cart Emanuel off the training pitch and took him straight to the Royal Berkshire Hospital for consulation with emergency physicians. While he was in transit, I rued the thought of being down a player who is finally coming into form.

I have a left back to replace him, obviously, but the bench is a player short. This will mean the first step into the senior squad for my summer purchase Andrea Gaspari.

I’ve said earlier in this narrative that Gaspari doesn’t have the ceiling of Craig Cathcart, our other young summer signing, but Gaspari is Premiership-ready now whereas Cathcart isn’t. Gaspari will go into the squad on the bench for the weekend. I told the player today and told him that effective tomorrow he should plan on training with the senior squad until further notice.

His eyes lit up – I love being able to promote a player and the Italian showed me why I like it so much. The thought of stepping into a top-flight match for the first time is enough to make any kid’s eyes gleam and there’s no doubt he’s dreaming now.

So along with the good news, I had to bring him back down to earth. “You have to work doubly hard now to stay here,” I told him, in his native tongue. “I can’t use you if you don’t understand that your whole attitude to this game has just changed with this promotion. Be ready, work hard, pay attention in the video sessions and everything will be fine.”

# # #

I got the word on my Austrian international before the afternoon media session. Naturally, word had gotten out about the injury so the only way to meet it was head on.

“Emanuel Pogatetz slipped during a passing drill today and suffered a sprain of the medial ligament of his left knee,” I said. “We’re grateful that it’s only a sprain, frankly. The word from our physio staff is that it will be a month or more before he is ready to return.”

“Rob, he was starting to play better,” Weatherby observed.

“He sure was,” I said. “I said he would settle in and he was doing just that. So this injury comes at a cruel time for both the player and the club. We have cover for the position and Liam Rosenior is quite capable of giving us a good game at left full back, but it’s never good to see a player injured. We’re going to get a little test of our depth now.”

“It’s true, Rob, that you have had virtually no injury trouble this season.” That was my favorite Italian, who, like a bad lira, always seems to turn up at the worst possible moment.

“Can’t argue that, Stefano,” I said. “We’ve been quite fortunate. Jonny Magallón is the only significant time loss we’ve had all season and now we’ve got some trouble with Emanuel.”

“When your squad players have been called upon this season they have been less than spectacular.”

“They’ve gotten the job done,” I said, defending my players. “Sometimes they haven’t set the world on fire, that’s true, but then our first eleven is good enough to keep the second eleven off the pitch for extended periods of time. That’s why they’re called the ‘second eleven,’ Stefano.”

“Clever,” he retorted. “But how will you get results with more injuries, with such a thin second eleven?”

“I’m not going to borrow trouble, first of all,” I said. “We haven’t had those injuries and I’m not going to wish that sort of trouble on myself or anyone else. Some managers in this league have had it pretty bad with injuries this season. You might ask them how they’re going to get results. But somehow I don’t think you’ll ask them.”

“You don’t know that I haven’t,” he said.

“True. But I do know you.”

# # #

The big story of the day was Milan’s £20.5 million offer to Manchester City for their prodigious midfield talent Michael Johnson.

I’d love to have that kind of money. Since I don’t, I have to come up with other ways to stay competitive. But Milan would be getting a heck of a player.

# # #

SCIAG · January 18, 2009

That's funny, Stefano. Pazenia, Harper, and your golden boy, Lita, have all stepped up and produced this season, as have Halls and Rosenior to lesser extents. That's five players- half a side.

Kewell08 · January 18, 2009

I think SCIAG has lost it...

tenthree, passe? Have you lost your mind? Passe with a cool 40 views per post? Where does that leave the rest of us!?

Great stuff as always.

salkster2102 · January 18, 2009

er has rob been reading the reports in italy of late? i cant quite place it though, something about kaka?

SCIAG · January 18, 2009

I think SCIAG has lost it...
tenthree, passe? Have you lost your mind? Passe with a cool 40 views per post? Where does that leave the rest of us!?

Great stuff as always.

You reguarly talk to Shevat

10-3, your standards are high, you don't need to be told you're doing well because you should know it by now.

10,000 views says it all.

tenthreeleader · January 18, 2009

Okay, friends, time for an apology. Probably not the best choice of words on my part and I apologize for that. I did mean this -- there's a lot of very nice work appearing on the board right now and I'm happy to see stories that are obviously written with great care and hard work, resulting in longer reads. So, Kewell and SCIAG, you're right to say what you said. As Steve Martin used to say, I did lose my mind for a minute.

Thanks to all who have stuck with this thread - we've got a long way to go yet!

___

Tuesday, December 23

The headline in this morning’s Guardian nearly made me fall out of my chair.

Sven-Göran Eriksson of Manchester City evidently has no intention of selling Michael Johnson to Milan. So opening the sport page this morning to see “Eriksson: Hands Off My Johnson!” was enough to make me giggle in a fit of sophomoric humor.

“If only he had said that to Faria Alam,” Patty smiled, giggling right alongside me at the kitchen table.

“Who’s Faria Alam?” That was Paula, emerging from the guest room.

“Oh, no one,” I said, trying and failing to suppress a grin.

# # #

The closer it gets to Christmas, the less I like the idea of working. I really don’t like the idea of traveling, which we’re going to have to do on Christmas Day.

I handed out travel itineraries this morning and heard the collective groans from my players.

“Hey, this is why you signed for the big money,” I said, as we went over the sheets before training. “But if you’d prefer to stay home and get left out of the squad, I can arrange that too.”

We’re flying out late in the afternoon and staying at the Radisson SAS Hotel in the center of the city, where we’ll eat a Christmas dinner as a team. It won’t be the same as having Christmas dinner with the WAGs, of course – but then it isn’t supposed to be.

Despite the holiday, this is a big match for us – we hold a six-point lead on Liverpool in the table and we hold the fourth and final Champions League qualifying spot with half the season left to play. We may well need every single point we can scrape up at the end of the season, if we’re still in the hunt for Europe come April and May.

I don’t want distractions. I don’t want players thinking about WAGs when there’s a match we have to play and a match we really need to handle like professionals. After this weekend it doesn’t get easier for us – we get Arsenal in the FA Cup right after that – so I want us in good habits right now.

That means sucking it up and getting ready to play this weekend. Our Liverpool preparation is going well and I’ve finally gotten up the gumption to forget about the idea of starting 4-5-1. We’re going to play our way, and if they beat us, they beat us. What I don’t want to do is go out there with a system that isn’t one we’re accustomed to playing for 90 minutes in a match that means as much to us as this one does.

During the morning media briefing today, I was read a quote from Rafa Benitez talking about the second half of the season, and he said that we needed this result more than Liverpool did.

It was a mind game, no doubt, but the thing of it is, Rafa is right. His side is deeper, his side is stronger, and that means he can afford a draw against us with 18 games to go while I have to worry about what happens to us if we falter or get injured.

Emiliani’s question of yesterday to me was a good one and we both knew it. I’m frustrated because I know what he’s going to write in his next column, and I’m powerless to say anything because we both know the odds will favor his interpretation. Unless I can go 38 Premiership matches without losing more players to injury, our chances of beating out one of the Big Four are slim. This season, anyway.

However, our start has virtually silenced people like Roland Nilsson, who talked big at the start of the season but are now more concerned with their own clubs than they are with trying to manage mine. I’m fine with that.

I wouldn’t slate another manager in print unless he did it to me first. So people like Nilsson and Mick McCarthy, if he ever makes it back to the Premiership, are people who are on my list. But there’s no reason for me to attack another manager because I know how much I dislike it when it’s done to me.

Having no control over the press, the improvement in how I’ve been treated is very pleasing to me. However, Emiliani is due to write again at Christmas and even though in this case he’s a comparatively small fry, he’s still frustrating beyond words.

And Patty can’t stand him. She could tell when I got home today that there was something bothering me.

She inquired, and I mentioned that while City is rumored to be getting a windfall if they do decide to sell Johnson, I can’t convince reserve player Curtis Osano to go on a three-month loan. How the other half lives, I guess.

“There’s more,” she said.

“Yeah,” I answered. “Emiliani’s back and he’s going to write on us this week. I’d rather be waterboarded.”

“Honey, don’t talk like that,” she said. “You’ve got me.”

“Glad,” I smiled, taking her in my arms for a brief moment. Martin looked at us as I did. So I held Patty closer.

# # #

I didn’t watch the match tonight, as Ben Sahar’s goal for Chelsea gave them a 1-0 win over Everton at Stamford Bridge in the last Premiership match before Christmas.

That win put Chelsea back into second place, with United third, and us fourth. Before the season started, I’d have gladly taken a Champions League place at Christmas, but there’s still plenty of season left.

More rumors are flying. Real Zaragoza are said to be after Chelsea’s Tal Ben-Haim. Manchester City is supposely going to bid on Shakhtar’s Leonardo. And West Ham is after Sampdoria’s wingback Edu Dracena. Meanwhile, I’m standing pat. I don’t need to buy at the moment, and paying over the odds for a couple of players to add depth isn’t a good use of the finances I have available to me.

Yet tonight, none of that mattered. Christmas is coming and even in my house, all was right with the world.

# # #

| Pos   | Team          | Pld   | Won   | Drn   | Lst   | For   | Ag    | G.D.  | Pts   | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 1st   | Arsenal       | 18    | 13    | 1     | 4     | 32    | 13    | +19   | 40    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 2nd   | Chelsea       | 18    | 10    | 7     | 1     | 28    | 9     | +19   | 37    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 3rd   | Man Utd       | 18    | 11    | 4     | 3     | 31    | 16    | +15   | 37    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
|[b] 4th   | Reading       | 18    | 10    | 7     | 1     | 37    | 24    | +13   | 37 [/b]   | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 5th   | Liverpool     | 18    | 8     | 7     | 3     | 31    | 18    | +13   | 31    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 6th   | Man City      | 18    | 8     | 5     | 5     | 22    | 20    | +2    | 29    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 7th   | West Ham      | 18    | 9     | 2     | 7     | 30    | 30    | 0     | 29    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 8th   | Bolton        | 18    | 8     | 3     | 7     | 26    | 23    | +3    | 27    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 9th   | Aston Villa   | 18    | 7     | 6     | 5     | 25    | 22    | +3    | 27    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 10th  | Everton       | 18    | 5     | 9     | 4     | 20    | 16    | +4    | 24    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 11th  | Tottenham     | 18    | 7     | 3     | 8     | 26    | 28    | -2    | 24    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 12th  | Blackburn     | 18    | 7     | 2     | 9     | 26    | 29    | -3    | 23    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 13th  | Portsmouth    | 18    | 5     | 6     | 7     | 29    | 29    | 0     | 21    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 14th  | Middlesbrough | 18    | 6     | 2     | 10    | 25    | 31    | -6    | 20    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 15th  | Charlton      | 18    | 4     | 7     | 7     | 22    | 33    | -11   | 19    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 16th  | Newcastle     | 18    | 4     | 5     | 9     | 20    | 28    | -8    | 17    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 17th  | Derby         | 18    | 4     | 5     | 9     | 24    | 33    | -9    | 17    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 18th  | West Brom     | 18    | 3     | 5     | 10    | 25    | 36    | -11   | 14    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 19th  | Birmingham    | 18    | 4     | 2     | 12    | 16    | 30    | -14   | 14    | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 20th  | Cardiff       | 18    | 2     | 2     | 14    | 8     | 35    | -27   | 8     | 
| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|

Kewell08 · January 19, 2009

I remember you posting a screenshot of that ages ago. You must be nearly a season ahead..?

Almondo · January 19, 2009

I'm gonna start reading this one once i've finished american calcio. hopefully today

tenthreeleader · January 19, 2009

Kewell ... the table is correct. Just that I've been spending a fair bit of time outside football in recent posts. Reading is at the halfway point in the season. Almondo, thanks for the post - I hope you enjoy both this story and its "prequel", American Calcio.

___

Wednesday, December 24

I’ve always loved this day.

I gave the squad as light a day as possible before we gathered for a team Christmas brunch in the 1871 Suite. Madejski spared no expense – every player and coach under contract to the club was present along with staff and invited guests.

The hospitality suites at the stadium were full after the morning training session as the Reading family sat down to enjoy the joys of the season. I had Martin and Paula with me, for their first look at the Madejski Stadium and their first meeting with my boss.

I had tipped the chairman about my father-in-law yesterday. “He might be a handful,” I said. “It’s a good thing I love his daughter. Otherwise I’d lose my patience.”

“I have a hard time imagining that, Rob,” Madejski said. “Still, best behavior from us, I assure you.”

“It’s not your best behavior I’m worried about,” I mused.

# # #

Upon reaching my office this morning, I saw the message light on my desk phone flashing. I picked it up to hear a message requesting a return phone call from Sven-Göran Eriksson.

The Scandinavian, specifically the Swede, in me was pleased. The football manager in me wasn’t. I suspected I knew what he wanted.

However, in this business you do the duty. Someday I may need him to return a phone call of mine, so I picked up the phone.

Within moments, Paula had connected me with the City offices and I was greeted by Eriksson.

“Göd Jul, Sven,” I said in greeting, getting a chance to use a tongue spoken fairly frequently around my house as a boy.

“Göd Jul, Rob,” he answered. “Thank you for returning my call.”

We spoke in Swedish. I thought it was fun – but the rest of the conversation wasn’t, at least from his point of view.

“I’m calling to see if you’d sell us Leroy Lita,” he said.

“He’s playing the perfect role for me, Sven,” I said. “Really, I have no interest in selling him. He’s instant production off my bench and every team needs that.”

“Well, you should know that we’ll probably make an offer anyway,” he said. “We want the player.”

“I understand,” I said. “Just be advised that he’s on a long-term contract and the chairman and I have no interest in dispensing with his services.”

“That’s also understandable,” he said. “You’re playing quite well at the moment.”

“Not as well as you,” I said disarmingly, and I was right. City has now won seven on the spin and have climbed into the thick of the race for Europe.

“Frankly, and I mean no offense, our win over you changed some things.”

“None taken,” I said, even as I remembered the match at Eastlands that I really would like to have back. “It changed some things here too.”

“Be advised,” he said. “My chairman has Lita at the top of his list and that means he’s at the top of mine.”

“Okay, Sven,” I said. “Tell your chairman that if he wants my player he’s going to have to wait until after his contract’s up or have pockets deeper than he’s willing to admit.”

“Fair play to you,” he answered. “Enjoy your Christmas and good luck, Rob.”

“To you as well, Sven,” I replied. I hung up. There was nothing else to do.

# # #

mark wilson27 · January 19, 2009

Very close at the top there 10/3...You could get second place...Of course United will be First..lol

Enjoying as always mate

Kewell08 · January 20, 2009

I meant the screenshot of "Hands off Johnson", tenthree! I remember seeing it in GD ages ago.

Almondo · January 20, 2009

reading calcio and the first page of rat pack has inspired me to start my own story. KUTGW 10-3

tenthreeleader · January 20, 2009

Mark, United are marching. As much as I admire them, I'm a bit frustrated by that ... Kewell, now I see what you mean. Thanks for the clarification. I did post that screenie awhile back but I am playing this game very slowly so as to be able to do detailed writing. Almondo, thank you for your kind words. I will look forward to seeing your work - enjoy FMS and I hope you continue to enjoy my writing as well!

___

Baseball relief pitcher Sparky Lyle once famously said, “Why pitch nine innings when you can get just as famous pitching two?”

It was in this vein that I approached Lita at the party after the workout. I don’t want to hide things like this from my players – when I can tell them of certain things I’d prefer to be the one rather than the player hearing it from some reporter.

I told him we had had an inquiry from City, and he just smiled.

“Naturally, it’s nice to be wanted,” he said. “But I’m part of the first team here and I’m scoring goals. Naturally I’d like to play more but I am making a difference to the team and I know that.”

“Good man,” I said, as we all sat down for the Christmas dinner. “You are important to this club and I’m glad you realize it.”

# # #

Rows and rows of tables were filled with players, staff and guests. It was a nice event and it was a nice day to look at the pitch from indoors.

Martin sat to my right as a cold drizzle started to fall, making the afternoon a bit on the dark side. The pitch, though, was in virtually perfect condition and the groundskeepers had the penalty areas tarped down to make sure it would stay that way.

“Pretty stadium,” he allowed, and I turned to him with a surprised expression.

“I didn’t think you noticed things like this,” I said.

“It’s a nice operation. You’re lucky to run it,” he answered.

I was shocked. “Where is this all coming from?” I asked.

“Well, you aren’t gonna change,” he said. “So in the areas you can control, I need to judge you on those. This is a nice place.”

I shook my head slightly. “Kind of you to notice,” I said. “I’m not going to change, that’s right.”

“In the areas you can’t control, I need to judge you different,” he said.

“Or not at all,” I said. “Since I can’t control them.”

“I’m not to that point yet,” he said. “Really, you need to understand that. I’m just not to that point yet.”

I looked at him. “Martin, you’ve got a daughter who is 37 years old. She’s making her own decisions and she’s making a life with me. Really, you need to let us do that. Look at what’s around you here. This is how we live now. I’m looking after her and I think I’m doing a pretty good job of it myself.”

He fell silent, as the caterers served the first course.

# # #

tenthreeleader · January 21, 2009

“We’ve had a good year here at Reading,” Madejski said, standing at an improvised dais at the front of the room. “We had a top-half finish last season and this season we’re still in the Champions League places at Christmas. We think this is a club on the rise. You’ve all had something to do with it – from the kit men to the receptionists who make all our jobs easier to the physios to the players. All of you.”

“Thank you for all you have done for this club. We are looking forward to another great year in 2009 and to get there we’ll need the same commitment and effort that you’ve shown us this year.”

He looked over at me. “And I can tell you that no one in this organization has worked any harder than our manager. Rob Ridgway had a point to prove when we hired him this summer. To do that, he has burned the midnight oil, so to speak. He’s done the work, he’s watched the video, he’s done the scouting and above all he has made the right moves in the best interests of this club. Rob, thank you for all you’ve done and I invite you to address us at this time.”

I was frankly surprised, and wondered if he had been nipping at the jeroboam of champagne I had left on his desk as a Christmas present. I stood up, to the applause of the guests and even my players – some of whom aren’t getting the playing time they want.

So that was a nice touch. Whether or not players play, they generally prefer winning, and we’ve done a fair amount of that during my tenure. So as the applause died down, I tried to figure out what I could say that wouldn’t stop our momentum.

“Thanks,” I smiled. “Mr. Chairman, I appreciate your kind words. I appreciate my job even more, though, so I’ll keep my remarks short.” Chuckles broke out around the room, an encouraging sign as I made my foray into the world of public speaking.

“My tenure here, so far, has been everything I could have hoped,” I said. “The organization has been superb, the staff has been wonderful, the players have done everything I’ve asked of them despite what I sometimes say on the training pitch…”

More snickers. So I continued.

“…and my hope for 2009 is that we continue to move forward. We have a challenging match coming up on Friday that will tell us a lot. Yet we’re going to go into that match and into the new year with a sense of optimism. We’ve shown we can hold our own against the Big Four and with luck we’ll finish close to them in the table. We’ve got work to do to get there, but today, let’s enjoy the gains we’ve made and enjoy the spirit of the season.”

I paused for a moment. “They do say, though, that no one can do it alone. I certainly can’t. I have a great coaching staff that has been with me every step of the way and justified the faith I showed in them. And, of course, there’s Patty, my amazing, wonderful wife. I certainly couldn’t do this without her patience and understanding.”

She blushed beside me, while Martin sat completely still in his chair. You might have thought a pigeon could land on his statuesque visage.

“I want this club to succeed for everyone in this room including and especially the people who do the work – and for the fans who pay their money to come see us play. Together, we’ll get there. Merry Christmas to everyone and enjoy the lunch!”

# # #

nette000 · January 21, 2009

Mr. Ridgway has a flair for making impromptu Christmas lunch speeches. I am speechless.

tenthreeleader · January 22, 2009

Nette, it seems Rob was a Boy Scout. "Be Prepared", as they say ..

___

We arrived home as dusk fell. Our own Christmas meal was warming – Patty had slow-cooked a roast and its wonderful warm aroma filled the kitchen as we walked in.

“Wow, that’s nice,” I said, crossing behind my wife on the way to our modest wine supply, in racks against the wall. I know, that’s not how you’re supposed to store wine, but we didn’t buy our house with the thought of having a cellar. Actually, that’s sort of a pity now that I think of it, but for now there was nothing else for it.

“Thanks,” she smiled, checking on the roast in the oven.

“And the food smells good too,” I cracked, and my bride shot me a glance tinged with just a hint of passion – all she could do with her parents close by.

I smiled at her – I knew what she meant even if for the time being I had to avoid her like she was made of plutonium – but she would give me little smiles and flirts as she prepared the table for our dinner. Before long it became a game – to see how we could look at each other without anyone else noticing.

My mood started to lighten. And it was a good thing. Martin was still mostly silent, an indication he was thinking things over. That was fine too.

Patty served dinner, with help from me, and we sat down. For a time, all was quiet.

Finally, my wife started the conversation. “It’s Christmas, Dad,” she said. “How about a smile?”

Father’s eyes met daughter’s, and Martin looked at his only child. “All right,” he finally said. “You know I could never say no to you.”

# # #

One of my concessions to my joint European heritage is music. It has been a family tradition in my house to listen to the world’s greatest men’s chorus, Stockholm’s Orphei Dränger, on Christmas Eve.

After dinner we gathered in the sitting room to enjoy Christmas Eve. I turned on the CD player and built a Christmas fire in our fireplace. Soon the room was bathed in a flickering light that became more pronounced as the sun slipped below the horizon.

The room was soon in darkness save for the lights of the tree and the lights of the fire. Patty’s hand found mine and she interlaced her fingers tightly with mine. It was a wonderful moment.

The wonderful and achingly beautiful Swedish carol "Jul, Jul, Strålande Jul" began to play. The song is about the search for peace on Earth and the harmony is just breathtaking. I began to softly sing the words in Swedish without realizing what I was doing.

Jul, jul, strålande jul, glans över vita skogar.

Himmelens kronor, med gnistrande ljus.

Glimmande bågar i alla guds hus.

Psalm som är sjungen från tid till tid.

Eviga längtan till ljus och frid.

Jul, jul, strålande jul, glans över vita skogar.

Kom, kom, signade jul, sänk dina vita vingar.

Över stridernas blod och larm.

Över alla suckan ur människobarm.

Över de släkten som gå till ro.

Över de ungas vars dagar nu gro.

Kom, kom, signade jul, sänk dina vita vingar.

Beside me, Patty leaned her head against my shoulder. “Honey, what does it mean?” she asked.

“It’s old Swedish,” I said, as she restarted the song. Now even my in-laws were paying attention. But basically, it means this:

“Christmas, Christmas, shining Christmas, light above white forests

The crowns of heaven with glistening lights

Glowing bows in the houses of God

A Hymn that is sung from time to time

Eternal desire of light and peace

Christmas, Christmas, shining Christmas, light above white forests

Come, come, sacred Christmas, lower your white wings

Above the blood and sounds of war

Over the sighs from all mankind

Over the families who long for peace

Over the young whose days go past

Come, come, sacred Christmas, lower your white wings.”

“So beautiful,” she said softly.

“Yes, isn’t it wonderful?” I asked. She looked up at me, tucked comfortably against my shoulder, and kissed me softly.

“I think it’s time to open our presents,” I smiled. “Martin first.”

He looked at me with surprise, but I handed him the box anyway. He opened it to reveal a watch that I had spent £1,500 to buy for him.

“Peace?” I said, and I extended my hand.

“Rob, I don’t know what to say,” he said. “I don’t know if I can accept this.”

“It’s Christmas, Martin,” I said. “Peace.”

Without another word, he extended his hand and shook mine.

# # #

Goofus · January 22, 2009

This story just keeps getting better and better.

weeeman27bob · January 22, 2009

Pfft, Bribery if ever I saw it!

Keep it up 10-3.

Kewell08 · January 22, 2009

Cannot buy his soul

JamboJen · January 23, 2009

Pfft, Rob shouldn't be spending his hard-earned on that man.

salkster2102 · January 23, 2009

I bet Martin wasn't expecting a christmas like this Try not to beat Liverpool though would you 10-3

tenthreeleader · January 23, 2009

There may be method to Rob's madness, all ... or, perhaps not.

___

I also decided that Patty didn’t have enough jewelry, so she had a shiny and sparkly Christmas. This seemed to please her, and when everything was unwrapped I had the rare satisfaction of knowing that everything I had bought – even for Paula as well – had been well received.

Several of the presents Patty and I exchanged were baby-related, including furnishings and other items to remind each other of the little miracle growing inside her. With each gift, we’d share little looks that left no doubt as to their meaning.

My family called from the States on what was now Christmas Eve afternoon for them, and we shared the greetings of the season. The in-laws even talked with each other and I finally had some hope that for a change, I wasn’t an “out-law” instead.

It really was a pleasant night. We prepared for bed and as I climbed into our bed in the master bedroom, Patty excused herself to use the master bath.

I leaned back and slid under the covers. Then I heard a voice from the bathroom.

“Honey, turn on the lamp by the bed,” she said. “I have one more present for you.”

I did as she instructed and my wife emerged from the bath wearing a red suit trimmed with white – the “Santa’s helper” costume she had promised. Her perfectly coiffed red hair now sported a red and white stocking cap.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” she giggled. “I promised you this and I’m glad I could fit into it before the baby starts to show.”

“Patricia Ridgway, what am I going to do with you?” I smiled.

“Well, I have an idea,” she said. “But since my parents are on the other side of this wall, modesty dictates that we’d better be quiet about it.”

# # #

Thursday, December 25

Liverpool

After such a wonderful day and night yesterday, it was very hard to have to fly out of town today.

Patty’s parents enjoyed a quiet Christmas Day with their daughter, which was great, but I wound up leaving late in the morning to marshal the squad for the flight to Liverpool this afternoon.

It was almost a full work day for me. We woke up snuggled together in bed and her warmth was wonderful. The various parts of her helper suit were strewn haphazardly around the room, and I couldn’t help but grin at how it all appeared.

She stirred and giggled as she looked around the room.

“Look at this mess,” she smiled, before snuggling close for another long minute.

“I love it,” I replied. “I have to go today and I’d like something positive to think about on the plane.”

“Don’t remind me,” she sighed, tracing the line of my jaw with an index finger. “This is the time when I’m supposed to look at you and ask you not to go, right?”

I smiled at my bride. “If you did, it’d be hard to tell you no,” I admitted.

“Then I won’t,” she said. “Because I really want to.”

# # #

I tried to keep my mind on my job as I drove to the training complex to meet up with the squad. I know that for the first time in my tenure at Reading, I’m going to start a match in 4-5-1.

It’s going to be one that can attack, though – Dagoberto and Kalou will start as attacking midfielders so even though I’m stacking the midfield the players who are doing it can transition to attack with some ease. It’s far from a “surrender” formation. That said, I have a lot of respect for Liverpool and its three-headed scoring monster.

Dirk Kuyt, Peter Crouch and Fernando Torres are a troika that has me wondering who to stop when they’re all out there at the same time – as Rafa Benitez has done from time to time this season.

However, only two of them will face us. Liverpool has some fairly significant injury worry ahead of the match tomorrow. The Echo proclaimed that Steve Finnan (hip), John-Arne Riise (hamstring) and above all Steven Gerrard (knee) wouldn’t play. Kuyt himself is still recovering from a broken arm, so the Reds will be down four pretty good players.

So that leave a strike force of perhaps the game’s ultimate targetman in Crouch holding the ball up for Torres, who is giving me nightmares. Alonso still patrols midfield, Pepe Reina is healthy in goal, and even with those players out, Liverpool is still favored to gain the three points by the oddsmakers.

I’m being cautious. My concerns are for our overall defense, which has struggled at times, especially on the road. While Liverpool is depleted they are still very dangerous and on their patch I do feel I can’t come out with two strikers and expect success.

This pains me to admit, especially since I’ve got some halfway decent strikers. Kitson will plow the lone furrow tomorrow and Lita knows he may see some extended playing time as well. If Dave doesn’t have the pace to last up front I’ll need to make the move and Lita knows it.

I do tend to buck conventional wisdom in not playing the pacier members of my strike force up front. I want Kitson’s superior sense of positioning to come to the fore in case he finds the ball in a position to strike. He’s the in-form man up front even though I really don’t have a front man on a rich vein of form.

I had to explain this to the match broadcasters, who also were less than thrilled with the idea of doing taped interviews on their own Christmas Day, but then we all knew what the business entailed when we agreed to get in.

I wouldn’t tip my formation, of course, but I did have to explain why we’ve been successful with no one player really setting the world on fire.

“We’ve gotten goals from a lot of different sources,” I explained. “Maloney has done it for us at times, Kalou has done it others, Dagoberto had a long hot streak earlier this season, Kitson has been in decent form lately, and Lita has done it off the bench for us. We don’t have one super gun out there, but we have a lot of players who can hurt teams and they have to account for all our weapons. We aren’t going into this with the idea of folding – we want Liverpool to have to deal with us.”

# # #

BenCraig7 · January 23, 2009

i must admit 10-3 this is bloody amazing, such a gripping tale looking forward to more adventures for rob

tenthreeleader · January 24, 2009

Ben, thank you for the kind words - and welcome to the Rat Pack!

___

The other bit of news concerns Michael Johnson, who is now a target for a team he wants to play for. Unfortunately for City, the club is United, and to say Eriksson’s reaction to the thought of selling his young star to the Red side of Manchester was curt would be kind.

To say it was emphatic would be more accurate. The player himself is starting to unsettle a bit – he also said today that he wouldn’t mind playing in Milan.

Johnson is right in the middle of City’s engine room now and the club is playing very well. This is the last thing Eriksson needs – and he knows it. His man-management skills are about to be sorely tested.

# # #

Meanwhile, tonight wasn’t nearly as nice as last night. While Patty enjoyed the evening with her parents and even called after dinner, tonight I fell asleep alone far away from her. I liked last night a lot better – and liked Christmas Eve a lot better than Christmas Day.

# # #

Friday, December 26

Liverpool (8-7-3, 5th place) v Reading (10-7-1, 4th place) – EPL Match Day #19

This is Anfield.

As I’ve mentioned many times before in this narrative, I love the tradition of the English game. And there are few places that speak of tradition any more than this place.

Though few hardcore supporters of either club will admit it, Anfield was actually the first home ground for archrivals Everton before Liverpool took over the ground in 1892. It’d be like the Chicago Bears playing home games at Lambeau Field in Green Bay. It’s unthinkable.

It’s interesting to note that even with Liverpool’s illustrious history in English and European football, they weren’t the first league champions to play at Anfield. That honor would also go to the Toffees.

However, since then Liverpool has of course built a rich tradition, so to see the ground for the first time as a manager appealed to my sense of history. While the players prepared for the match, I headed to the pitch for a quick look at the empty stadium as is my personal tradition.

The world-famous Spion Kop immediately grabbed my attention and I was quite certain the Kopites who would soon fill it would grab my attention in a different way once the match started. That wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.

I retreated to the visitors’ changing room, where everything was organized and players were preparing for the match. I motioned to Dillon and together we headed into the manager’s office.

“I want your thoughts on Gaspari playing today if we need him,” I said.

“He looks like his feet are on the ground,” my deputy replied. “He’s nervous but then anyone playing his first Premiership match would be, regardless of where it’s played.”

Andrea had a decent week of training in place of the injured Pogatetz, who would watch the match in street clothes behind our bench. That had to kill him, but he didn’t want to miss the trip and this was the only way he could feel part of the team.

“You know I rate the boy but I really don’t want to have to put him out there in tough circumstances,” I replied.

“You chose him instead of Ingimarsson,” Dillon reminded me. “Having second thoughts?”

“No,” I answered. “Just trying to take as much control over his entry into the match as I can. We’ll see how that works out.”

# # #

tenthreeleader · January 25, 2009

The experience of entering the pitch at Anfield is among the most memorable in football. Of course, there’s that famous sign that hangs over the entryway to the pitch to start things off. Fans from all over the world pay for stadium tours for a chance to reach up and touch it.

The old place used to hold about 60,000 in the days before Heysel. Now it’s about two-thirds that, but the atmosphere is still as impressive as it gets when two teams take the pitch.

I stopped at the bottom of the tunnel to share a handshake with Rafa Benitez, who knew his team had a real job to do today. Despite their fame as a club, they still trailed us by six points entering the match and he needed the points to climb closer to a Champions League place.

That didn’t stop him from being sporting, though, and I appreciated that. Some of the Kopites who aren’t thrilled with their club’s American ownership didn’t react so well to seeing the Yankee in charge of the visiting club, but that’s understandable.

With the exception of the injured Pogatetz, I had my best eleven out there, but arrayed in 4-5-1 for the first time all season. Dagoberto and Kalou were playing in direct support of Kitson as the lone striker – and I realized I was asking a lot out of my regular targetman to play up front on his own against that defense.

I had a healthy dose of respect for the home team – but only time would tell if it was too much. Minus some excellent talent including Steven Gerrard, they still came out strongly and took the match right to us before their rabid and loud support.

I was a bit surprised that with Kuyt also out of the lineup, Benitez didn’t start Crouch to play as a targetman for the immensely talented Torres. Instead, he opted for Andrei Voronin to play alongside the Spaniard, and I counted us fortunate for that.

Still, in the beginning it hardly mattered. While we were searching for a little stability through our five midfielders, they frolicked. Which was highly annoying. The first good chance of the match was good enough to have actually come from a defender, as Jamie Carragher threaded the needle from fully thirty yards, forcing Lobont to tip over the bar eleven minutes into the match.

Bogdan looked like he was on top of his game, and after Xabi Alonso bent in an artful corner that Torres headed over, I was starting to think we’d need him.

The 4-5-1 finally started to find its collective feet after that, though. I was happy to see the midfield step and start stopping the forays of the Reds engine room, which had pressed Jermaine Pennant into service today in place of the crocked Gerrard.

Our first chance came soon afterward, when Pazienza moved smartly forward on 19 minutes to find the lone ranger, Kitson, breaking between Emiliano Insua and Carragher at the top of the 18-yard box.

The Italian’s pass was inch-perfect, and Kitson made no mistake, ripping a rising drive over Pepe Reina’s left arm and home for a 1-0 lead.

Our bench erupted and I turned to Dillon for a handshake. It was at that time that the crowd started to cheer – the linesman’s flag was up for offside and Kitson had to stop his celebration.

I couldn’t tell – it was a very close call and the linesman was right on the play. I had to trust his judgment, at least until I could see a replay. The call hurt our work rate for a few minutes, though, as I saw a few of my players practically sulking by the caliber of their play. That hurt as much as losing the goal, and I had to yell out to the players to snap the team out of its collective funk.

“Not here,” I thought to myself. “We get down on ourselves here and we’re dead.”

While we were recovering from the offside call, Liverpool launched a quick counterattack into our area, with Ezequiel Garay sending Voronin through against Bikey. André timed his challenge perfectly, taking the ball as he slid in.

However, he challenged through the legs of the player, who went to ground due to the force of the challenge. I held my breath while Steve Bennett made up his mind. Lobont had already flipped the ball to the corner – and Bennett pointed to the spot.

Our bench and support threw up its collective hands in disgust. Our bad luck against the Big Four continued through another dodgy penalty – and Bikey went into Bennett’s book as well.

Frankly, that made me as angry as the penalty. Phil Dowd, the fourth official for our match, heard that loud and clear from me as Garay retrieved the ball from the corner and Lobont got a lecture from the referee on time-wasting.

The more I saw, the angrier I got. Red-faced, I chose instead to say nothing until Garay had taken the spot kick. He placed the ball carefully on the extreme front edge of the spot – and Lobont risked a card by pointing to the ball.

“It’s not on the spot,” I could hear him yelling, and Bennett walked to my keeper again. I said a silent prayer that Bogdan wouldn’t wind up in the book as well, but Bennett looked at the ball. He then motioned to Garay.

Lobont had been right. While the crowd whistled loudly, Garay was made to re-spot the ball. Lobont then assumed his role on the goal line while the Liverpool defender sized up the job in front of him.

His shot was superbly struck, to the right of the keeper and along the ground.

Lobont stopped him.

SCIAG · January 25, 2009

Go Bogdan!

tenthreeleader · January 26, 2009

At full stretch, the Romanian palmed the ball away – but back toward the shooter. With players from both teams frantically chasing the rebound, Garay got there first and struck.

Lobont stopped that too, and now Sonko arrived to crash the second rebound into touch. To say the keeper was jacked up would be an understatement as he accepted high-fives, back-slaps and even a gentle head butt from Maloney in appreciation for a wonderful double save.

Then we started to play better, as often happens after a major momentum shift such as a missed penalty. We didn’t generate any good scoring chances for the rest of the half, but instead were a much more stable outfit in terms of denying the Reds their favored method of play. We were in their passing lanes and the match became a tactical stalemate as the end of the first half approached.

We were able to counter them on 42 minutes, with Kalou stripping Alvaro Arbeloa of the ball just shy of the center line and sending Kitson bounding away with a wonderful first-touch ball behind Jamie Carragher. The big striker loped onto the ball and sized up his shot, before going down on a hard challenge from the reigning World Footballer of the Year.

Carragher evidently got more of the ball than Bikey had in our penalty area, and Bennett’s card stayed in his pocket while Reina marshalled the ball to safety. But when Kitson didn’t get up right away, my initial anger turned to concern.

Carragher had caught Kitson on the ankle, which signalled trouble for me. Dave was really struggling as he got to his feet, and finally sat down near the touchline. He was helped off the pitch and we played with ten for the rest of the first half.

I looked down the bench and saw Lita looking back at me.

“Now, boss?” he asked.

I nodded.

# # #

“Way to hang in there,” I told the team as they sat for the halftime break. “You took their best shot – now let’s figure out how to get points out of this place."

“What’s with the penalty?” an irritated Bikey asked. “This always happens to us!”

I couldn’t argue with him but I knew I needed to get him settled down. “André, I need you to calm down,” I said, approaching his locker while the rest of the squad grabbed refreshments before Dillon’s tactical briefing. “You’re on a card now and if we’re going to get a result out of this place today I need you on the pitch. Let me worry about the officials. You need to go out and play the game we both know you can play. Okay?”

He nodded. “It was never a penalty,” he protested.

“I know it wasn’t,” I said. “But there was some justice because it didn’t wind up in the net. Shake it off and go play.”

I then returned to the center of the room for my team talk. “So far, so good,” I told them. “The Rat Pack took one in the cubes from the officials but we got through it. Remember that the tougher team mentally is going to have an advantage in the second half. Make certain that team is you.”

# # #

Liverpool changed tactics at the start of the second half, pushing their wing players forward to get more pressure on our back line. Lita came on for Kitson, who was crocked badly enough to come out but after a few minutes of treatment it was apparent that he wouldn’t miss any more action. Thankfully.

After a few moments I saw the tactical change and dropped my holding midfielders back closer to the back four in response. I whistled for Harper’s attention as a ball flew into touch near our bench. He came over at a run and I gave him quick instruction.

“You and Pazienza help out with those wings,” I said. “Tell Maloney to close whoever supports their strikers. Wait for the chance to counter.”

It was really a defensive mindset that I was contemplating at the moment – a little good old-fashioned “Padova special”. We would routinely choke teams out of matches at this point – but whether that would work against a five-time European champion on their patch was of course open to speculation.

What I wanted for the short term was simply to stem the Red tide. For a few minutes, that was what happened – and then Benitez figured out we were weaker in the center of the park.

He whistled for Javier Mascherano and made a straightforward motion. “Up the middle!” he yelled in Spanish, not realizing I spoke that language.

I then yelled for Pazienza to return to our original tactic – in Italian. That got my midfielder’s attention quickly and tipped Benitez that I was onto him. Whichever player got the message from his manager first would gain an advantage for his team.

They got it at the same time, but Mascherano happened to be in possession of the ball when it happened. While Pazienza moved to close him, the Argentinian slipped a wonderful through ball to Torres in the seam between Bikey and Sonko. In one fluid motion, Torres showed why he’s one of the world’s deadliest strikers, volleying past Lobont on his first touch to put Liverpool ahead on 61 minutes.

Anfield exploded with joy and their players celebrated a technically marvelous goal. Pazienza showed his disappointment at being unable to close Mascherano, and it was left to me to rally the troops.

I rolled my hands, an indication that I wanted a formation change, and everyone knew what that meant. We were going to 4-1-3-2, a formation in which we are offensively quite comfortable. If there was to be a next goal, I was gambling that we were going to get it.

From our kickoff, we did a better job generating opportunities. Back in our familiar formation, and with Liverpool’s wings momentarily pulled back to handle our expected riposte, we should have gotten better possession and finally it started to happen. Dagoberto went close with a blazer from fifteen yards that flashed around Reina’s left post, and that sign of life seemed to pick everyone up.

My forward pairing was now Dagoberto and Lita, two pacey players instead of the ‘big-little’ combination I tend to favor. However, having two strikers on the pitch who were willing to run for each other gave us a different dimension. Not that Kitson isn’t willing to run, mind you – but his role in our standard setup is generally to hold the ball. Lita gave us a different dimension.

However, after five minutes of decent pressure Liverpool again started to take over the match. Their quality was starting to show. Just after the goal Benitez made a double substitution, bringing on Crouch for Voronin and Ryan Babel for Pennant.

The minutes dragged on. I knew on 75 minutes that it was time for 4-3-3, and motioned to Faé to warm up. Four minutes later he was on, with Dagoberto and Kalou in support of Lita up front, and the offensively minded Maloney and Faé lurking behind three strikers. The center of the midfield was now Pazienza’s responsibility when we had the ball, with help from Maloney and Faé when we didn’t.

The saying goes “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” Well, I can’t speak for mice but my plan had a huge hole blown in it just four minutes later when Bikey chopped down Crouch outside our area.

Unquestionably it was a yellow card offense, so I wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Bennett card him. Unfortunately, it was his second yellow, so Bikey headed past me to the showers with a glowering expression of anger on his face.

I said nothing as he passed, but had a major decision to make just seven minutes from time. It didn’t take me long to make it, as Torres came off for Liverpool in favor of Yossi Benayoun.

“Three at the back,” I called. “Get forward!”

# # #

Goofus · January 26, 2009

Bold move. Hope it pays off.

weeeman27bob · January 26, 2009

Bold move. Hope it pays off.

He's Rob Ridgway, of course it will pay off.

copperhorse21 · January 27, 2009

Loved the bits about the language "duel". A tiny detail that gives this piece "authenticity" and helps it to become even better. Bueno! and Grazi!

Spav · January 27, 2009

It's been a while since my last post here, but I'm always reading regularly. KUTGW 10-3. :thup:

tenthreeleader · January 27, 2009

Gentlemen, thanks for the kind words ... and, Forza Horse!

___

It was a brave effort.

Down to ten, we then had to chase the ball as well as the game. Benitez rightly had his players get the ball deep and into the corners to kill off the remaining moments. The fourth official signaled for three minutes of extra time as, finally, the ball went behind for a goal kick to us.

Lobont restarted play in a hurry, his long kick finding the head of Babel. His downward header struck Kalou in the midsection and bounded into the clear.

Salomon reacted first and started a last desperate rush, beating Babel to the outside. He took the ball wide and looked up as he controlled the ball at his feet. He saw Lita starting his run and belied his usual tendency by crossing early.

The ball floated toward the area and onto the defense. Leroy stuck out his left leg and deftly tipped the ball past Carragher to the left. The ball went to ground, bounced once, and Lita intelligently used his body to shield the defender from the ball.

Reina, seeing the danger, immediately closed the angle. Lita touched the ball once with his left foot, flicked it to the outside, and gained the angle on the keeper. Reina dove desperately to his right as Lita cut to the outside – clear of the keeper.

His shot was true. Two minutes into injury time, we had leveled the match on Lita’s seventh goal of a truly remarkable season. Off he sprinted toward the bench, as the Liverpool crowd was stunned into silence. Ten-man Reading had earned a way back.

He had struck again.

Liverpool 1 (Torres 14th, 61)

Reading 1 (Lita 7th, 90+2)

A – 41,116, Anfield, Liverpool

Man of the Match – Pepe Reina, Liverpool

# # #

“Yes, I’m pleased. I don’t know how I can put it any other way. We were dead, dead, dead until Leroy gave us a way back.”

“And to equalize with ten men, in this place…” That was Weatherby.

“Well, we do have to remember that we’re allowed to play and score too, Jill,” I smiled. “Does it mean anything extra for coming at Anfield? I don’t know, I suppose so. But the fact of the matter is that no matter who we might have scored against today, a point is still a point. I’m pleased that it came against a team that was really hoping to beat us so we can stay six up on them instead of dropping three, but there’s a lot of season left.”

“What would you have said if someone had told you that you’d be in the Champions League places after the halfway point of the season?”

“I’d take it,” I said immediately. “This group has done very, very well. They believe in themselves and I would like the rest of the league to start believing in them too. That takes time, though, but I do think this group of players should have earned the respect of the league and the footballing public after what they have done through nineteen matches.”

There. The gauntlet had been duly thrown.

# # #

The point we got today might turn out to be bigger than anyone had imagined.

That’s because on a Boxing Day full of action, there was one big surprise. The shocker came from Pride Park, when Agustin Delgado’s injury time goal helped the Rams shock Manchester United 2-1. Wayne Rooney had opened the scoring six minutes before the break but Jay McEveley equalized from the spot before Delgado’s heroics sealed the points. Coppell will be having apoplexy tonight, I am sure.

There was no surprise at all from The Valley today, as Jose Semedo’s own goal gave Arsenal a 21st minute lead against Charlton they hardly had to work for. Tomas Rosicky and Robin van Persie sealed the points to keep the Gunners comfortably atop the league with a 3-0 win.

And then there was Chelsea. My goodness, was there Chelsea. First and foremost, they were home to tail-end Cardiff. Second, Peter Winningham contrived to get himself sent off at Stamford Bridge nineteen minutes into the match for the Bluebirds, already trailing 1-0 to Didier Drogba’s tenth-minute opener.

Before halftime, Giuseppi Rossi had scored twice, John Terry once and Drogba had completed his brace for a 5-0 advantage after 45 minutes. Just to make matters worse, Rossi completed his hat trick two minutes after the restart before Avram Grant finally called off the dogs. The 6-0 humiliation has placed Chelsea in a commanding position relative to us on goal difference, so if we somehow manage to leapfrog the world’s most expensive team, it will have to be on total points. However, Daniel Alves did leave the match with a badly twisted ankle and may miss up to a month.

Everton picked up a big road win at Bolton, with James Vaughan’s goal two minutes from time providing the only marker in a tight 1-0 affair.

Birmingham and West Brom played a West Midlands derby today and it wound up all square, with Garry O’Connor’s goal for the home team cancelled by Bartosz Slusarski’s equalizer with just five minutes to play.

City keeps rolling along, winning 2-1 at Eastlands over West Ham to extend its unbeaten string to eight. Valeri Bojinov won it in injury time with Rolando Bianchi also scoring, to offset the 21st goal in 21 matches by the amazing Dean Ashton. Sven’s side is now sixth and closing fast.

Spurs continue to play better, throttling Boro at the Lane this afternoon. Tom Huddlestone and Nic Anelka did the damage in a 2-0 win that wasn’t as close as the score. Newcastle even won today, with Vagner Love and the veteran Mark Viduka finding the range to cancel out Roque Santa Cruz’s opener for Blackburn.

Portsmouth and Villa battled to a 1-1 draw at Fortress Fratton this afternoon as well, with Jermain Defoe and Luke Moore scoring the goals. But as we headed home from Liverpool today, I was well satisfied with our point. Our ten-man point.

Frankly, our stolen point.

# # #

CarlosEsDios · January 27, 2009

My friends always say to me "Why don't you get a hobby?" well I always say I class FM as a hobby and now I can include 'Reading' as well!

Thoroughly good read this is and I hope to take inspiration from you for mine.

At one point I had to go and make another cup of tea because my other one had gone luke warm I was that engrossed!

Carlos

salkster2102 · January 27, 2009

Terrible pun Carlos

At least you didn't beat liverpool and you didn't lose either so a win win situation for me

tenthreeleader · January 28, 2009

Well, now that everyone except Rob is satisfied, let's move on

__

Saturday, December 27

I didn’t want to do it, but I met with the squad today.

Not for full training, mind you, but for two purposes, only one of which had to do with the entire squad. We play in the FA Cup Third Round one week from today against Arsenal and I wanted everyone fully focused on the task at hand with another holiday coming up this week.

The second purpose was to settle down Bikey, who will miss the game through suspension. That means Andrea Gaspari is going to get thrown into the fire.

With Pogatetz out and Bikey suspended for his red card, Gaspari is it – alongside Sonko against one of the most talented front lines we’ll see all season. André was beside himself at training this morning and that meant from a mental standpoint there was one more of him on hand than I wanted to see.

He wants to face Arsenal again – let’s face it, who wouldn’t – and he’s darned upset because he let the team down by getting himself sent off. I didn’t have too much to say about referee Bennett yesterday, mainly because I risk a conduct charge myself if I protest too much after Clattenburg’s performance against United.

My objection wasn’t with the second yellow. It was with the first.

I didn’t like the penalty, but it all came right when Lobont stopped Garay. I absolutely didn’t think a foul, if there even was one, was a carding offense, and during our video session today I wanted to take a good close look.

Bikey, though, didn’t want to look and I respected that. I saved the close examination for my office.

# # #

Patty’s parents leave tomorrow for the States – and they’re taking their daughter with them.

There’s nothing bad about that, mind you – she is heading to Los Angeles for her first meetings with IMG officials in the States and she’ll be gone for about three weeks.

I’m not happy about that, of course – at least in terms of missing her – but she has her career and she wants a shot at it before her pregnancy starts to show. I can’t stand in the way.

I could almost sense an expression of victory on Martin’s face as we talked about Patty’s trip today. He was taking his daughter home, for lack of a better phrase, and leaving me in England to fend for myself. Oh, and make a ton of money.

From my point of view, if this is what Patty wants to try, I’m going to support her. Even though the truce between my father-in-law and me has held for three whole days, I’m not going to push it. I want peace in my house and I’m willing to work for it.

Even if it means saying goodbye to my wife for three weeks that I’d rather not lose. Such is life.

# # #

On the pitch, the Michael Johnson saga continues. United have tabled a bid to City and it turns out that’s the one the player wants to accept. However, it’s the one his club will never agree to entertain, so the player will be disappointed.

Spurs have also come up with an intriguing offer - £12.3 million plus a part exchange of both Jermaine Jenas and Darren Bent. The Star reports that this is the offer City really wants – and honestly, why wouldn’t they?

Portsmouth are reportedly looking to sign Rangers’ huge Spanish defender “King” Carlos Cuellar, but Walter Smith will probably hold the player by his ankles to keep him at Ibrox unless there’s a minimum fee release to be met.

And finally – I have a player someone else wants that isn’t irreplaceable to me. Defender Alan Bennett, who is buried in the reserves, is a target for West Brom and he’s a player I would like to let move on. He isn’t going to get time with the senior squad and today when the player asked me for permission to move I didn’t hesitate to grant it.

“Alan, I know you’ve worked hard but I owe it to you to try to get you first-team football,” I said. “That is no reflection on you, but it is a fact that I haven’t been able to get you into the first team here. So please, if you would like to go, do it with our blessing.”

Disappointed at being told he had no first-team future here, he nonetheless took it with good grace. “I’ll stick someplace if not here,” he said. “I’m not ready to quit yet and I need to show I can still play. I couldn’t prove it to you but now my job is to prove you wrong. No offense.”

“None taken, Alan,” I said. “I would expect nothing less. Good luck.”

# # #

tenthreeleader · January 29, 2009

Sunday, December 28

Life can be frustrating sometimes. Really, really frustrating.

I saw Patty off from Heathrow this morning with her parents, and when I get right down to it their visit wasn’t really all that bad. I took everyone out to dinner last night as a bon voyage gift and things seemed to go well.

Paula even took me aside while Martin was away from the table and thanked me. “Rob, I know you’ve bent over backwards to make this a nice trip for Martin,” she said. “I want you to know I appreciate it.”

“In exchange, I want him to understand that I’m not some immature idiot who is going to get his daughter into trouble,” I said. “Do you think you can help me with that?”

“I can sure try,” my mother-in-law said. Even though we have a trust now, I have to admit I like her a whole lot more than I like him.

# # #

That said, it was still hard to see Patty go.

The last time she flew away from me toward the States, I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again. At least this time I know she’s coming back to me and I know our baby is growing inside her. That makes it bearable.

She finished packing late last night and finally she climbed into our bed looking like she was done in. And she was.

“This work tires me out,” she said. “I hope they don’t work me too hard out there while I get used to all that warm weather.”

“Then tell them,” I said. “Honey, you have to let them know when you can’t go or you can’t work. The baby is going to tire you out, from everything I’ve read. Please be careful.”

“I will,” she said, before falling asleep on my shoulder. “I’m carrying precious cargo.”

I looked over at her while she slept and knew she was right. That made leaving even worse.

We woke early, had a light breakfast to make sure Patty’s morning sickness didn’t overwhelm her, and finally there was nothing else for it.

Patty’s troubles seem to be lessened when she eats light, so as we headed to the airport she snacked on some yogurt to keep her strength up. She is down to a wonderful routine at the moment and frankly it is fun for me to watch her go through it.

Her parents engaged Patty in light conversation as I drove eastward toward London. I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I just wanted to enjoy the remaining time I had with Patty but it was obvious I wasn’t going to get that opportunity.

So my mood started to slide, from blue to gray to bluish-black by the time we reached the airport. I helped remove everyone’s luggage from the car boot – Patty didn’t have to bring a whole lot since she’s going to be wearing other people’s clothes for a good part of her trip – and a porter took the baggage to the international departure area.

We reached the airport screeners, and I knew this was as far as I’d get to go. Patty looked at me sadly.

“It won’t be long, Rob,” she said. “I’ll talk with you when I get there.”

I knew full well it would be deep into the evening before that happened, but I asked her to call whenever she arrived. It’s going to be a long three weeks.

I shook hands with Martin and hugged Paula before arriving last to my wife. She kissed me softly and touched my face.

“It’ll be over before you know it, honey,” she said. “I’ll talk with you tonight.”

I nodded. They headed for the screening area, and I turned to leave. I didn’t look back.

# # #

I drove home and turned on the radio. Now that we’re getting ready for Arsenal, the BBC is speculating that one of their better players may not be there when we play.

They are reporting that Barcelona are preparing a huge offer for Kolo Toure, who was in heavy demand during the August window as well. I can’t imagine Arsene Wenger being too excited about that, but that’s life in the big city.

Meanwhile, I wonder if West Brom will take Bennett. Even though we're in the same league, it’s like a whole different world.

I arrived at home, the day to myself with no matches on television, and I stretched out on the couch. Missing Patty already, I fell asleep.

# # #

tenthreeleader · January 30, 2009

Monday, December 29

Bachelor life does not become me. Not any more.

I felt like I was back in Padua when I woke up, quite alone, this morning. Patty arrived in New York at mid-afternoon London time yesterday and called when she finally reached LAX later in the evening.

“She’s half a world away,” I mused, as I rolled out of bed. “Damn it all anyway.”

I was surprised at the silence of the place. Even though there are only two of us there (at least, outwardly) there are stil plenty of nuances that make our house a home, that are the product of two people living there.

Some of those nuances are Patty’s shoes, a pair of which I tripped over on the way to the bathroom. Usually she’s meticulous about these things, but she must have forgotten them while packing and I paid the price, stumbling and ramming my foot hard into the leg of her dresser while trying to maintain my balance.

One of my toes bent backwards at the impact and swore loudly as I sat down on the edge of the bed to ease the pain. It didn’t help. I knew I had broken the middle toe on my left foot and my diagnosis was confirmed moments later as a wave of nausea swept over me.

It was Monday and it wasn’t getting off to a very good start. At all.

# # #

I limped into the changing room upon arrival at the ground and was in a pretty bad mood, all things considered.

Putting an ice pack on my injured foot and hoisting it onto my desk, I awaited the arrival of the squad, and more especially Dillon.

The physio staff soon got word that I was in a bad way, though I hadn’t sought anybody out, and in a few minutes I was getting some proper attention.

Assistant physio Andy Madden was soon at my side and as he peeled back the ice pack, Dillon walked into the room. The joint on the toe was already a bright purple and I obviously couldn’t bend it.

“Hell’s bells, Rob, what happened to you?” he asked.

“I tripped over a pair of my wife’s shoes,” I said. “You can’t make that up.”

“Looks nasty,” he said, turning away from the sight as Madden did the only thing he could – he taped the middle toe to the second toe and re-iced the injury.

“Of course you know we can’t set it, it’s going to have to heal naturally,” he said. “It’s broken, no doubt about it, and you’ll feel this for awhile.”

“I’ll take training, Rob,” Dillon said. “You should try to rest that foot.”

“I won’t be doing drills, that’s for sure,” I said. “This just comes at the wrong time.”

“Like there’s ever a good time to break bones,” Madden replied, and I couldn’t help but agree with him.

# # #

The morning papers were full of the latest “Cristiano Ronaldo to (you fill in the blank)” rumors. Today’s rumor, as reported in just about every paper worth its salt, centered around Inter.

I don’t know if Inter has enough money for Ronaldo, but I will expect to see the usual strenuous denials in the papers tomorrow.

Our papers, on the other hand, centered around the Liverpool match. The Post had a long piece by Weatherby centering on the Liverpool match but I was linked to the latest Emilani missive as well in my morning e-mail.

I’ll have to say this: at least Stefano was original this time.

“Ten-man Reading, meanwhile, managed a late draw at Liverpool thanks to a goal from Leroy Lita, the top striker in the Premiership who isn’t able to get a start for his team. Manager Rob Ridgway prefers late drama, it seems – if he played Lita more he might not have to worry so much. Talk around Anfield centered on whether the American manager paid too much respect to an injury-riddled Liverpool side by playing 4-5-1 for the vast majority of the contest.”

Good grief. Too much respect for the champions on their home ground? Was he serious? And if there was any of that kind of talk around Anfield, I’m sure it didn’t get anywhere near the Kopites.

Amazing.

# # #

tenthreeleader · January 31, 2009

Tuesday, December 30

The worst thing I could imagine in terms of personal publicity has happened. I’m distraught and all I can say about it is that halfway around the world, Patty feels even worse.

The only people I can imagine who are pleased by the news today would be the Sun and News of the World – since they have all those pictures of Patty they ran.

Kate’s divorce from Peter McGuire is on the gossip pages – not because of who they are, but because of who he once dated. You guessed it.

“Patty’s Past” glared at me from the front page of the Sun this morning. I could have crawled into a hole and died.

Divorce records are supposed to be sealed, but someone had leaked the contents of Kate’s, and the result was a lot of heartache for yours truly. The article read:

“Divorce proceedings in Crown Court involving two Berkshire public relations executives have taken a salacious turn.

Peter McGuire, 42, has been sued for divorce by his wife and business partner Kate Southerland McGuire, 36. She alleges infidelity during their seven-year marriage. Named in the divorce proceedings is London model Patty Ridgway, wife of Reading manger Rob Ridgway.

The suit alleges McGuire and Patty Ridgway, then known as Patty Myers, had a two-year affair while Myers worked at the U.S. Department of State.

A countersuit by McGuire alleges mental cruelty on the part of his wife. The two own Reading-based Modern Media Partnerships LLC.

Kate McGuire is suing for a controlling interest in the business, which she founded before meeting Peter McGuire. The countersuit asks for a split in assets.

However, court records suggest that Peter McGuire’s relationship with Myers was far from innocent. Stay tuned…”

# # #

tenthreeleader · February 2, 2009

The phone in my office rang moments after I arrived. It was Freddie Eaton.

“Rob, I apologize for bothering you at the office, but we need to make a statement regarding the article in the Sun.”

“That’s true,” I fumed. “We do. Give me some advice, Freddie.”

“The truth, simply told,” he said. “It was some time ago, she never knew he was married, and she regrets a mistake not of her making.”

“Someone will ask about her not knowing for two years,” I replied. “But I’d rather say something about unsealing divorce proceedings. Freddie, I’m really angry about this. It should never have come out and I’d like to know who’s responsible. Full stop.”

“First things first,” he said. “Controlling your wife’s image and getting on top of this is vital. If you want to take legal action, that’s your right but I don’t advise it right at the moment. You have more important things to worry about.”

# # #

The January board meeting ought to be interesting now. I got a phone message from Madejski right after I hung up with Eaton, expressing understanding.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I said, and my chairman gave me a sympathetic reaction.

“I realize that, Rob,” he said. “I know your wife made an error in judgment before she met you but she has been a model citizen since I’ve known her and you must know I don’t hold this against either of you.”

“I’m glad for that, because we’re innocent,” I said. “I have a very big FA Cup match to prepare for and I don’t need the distraction.”

“Then close your training,” he said. “I will back you up on this. This club has a big match coming up Saturday and we want to give you every chance to prepare.”

# # #

But I couldn’t close today’s training. That was the worst of it.

Since we’re playing Arsenal, that meant London media was at my press gaggle and since there was news about my fashion-plate bride, they were all over her husband.

I tried to set some ground rules. “As you know there has been a story involving my wife,” I said before I took any questions today. “I want you all to know that we are not here to discuss her personal life or mine. We are here to discuss Saturday’s FA Cup match between Reading and Arsenal. Any deviation from that line will result in the end of the news conference. Clear?”

I received a room full of nodding heads in acknowledgement, but wondered how long it would last.

“Has today been a distraction for you?” I was asked. “And I’m asking about the match.”

“You are and you aren’t,” I said in response. “I really am not interested in commenting on this other than to say that the squad’s preparation is unaffected. We defeated Arsenal the first time we played them and we want to learn from what worked so we can do it again. Our focus is good and it remains so.”

“Does this match come at a bad time?”

“I can’t imagine why,” I said. “You play the matches when they’re on the fixture list unless it snows. Then you move on. Next.”

Then one guy blew it for everyone else.

“Have you spoken with Patty today?” he asked. I never even saw his nametag.

I turned around and left the room.

# # #

tenthreeleader · February 3, 2009

For all her bravado about publicity, my wife was inconsolable. And she was thousands of miles away.

She sat alone in her hotel room, reading the headlines in the Los Angeles Times variety section and wondering what on earth had happened to leak the story.

She picked up the phone and called me. It hardly mattered that by the time she had read the paper, it was 2:30 in the morning in Berkshire. She figured, correctly, that I wouldn’t be sleeping either.

“Honey, I read the story,” she said sadly. “How was it for you today?”

“I had to walk out of my news conference,” I said. “People wouldn’t quit asking about it.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “All the old wounds are opening up all over again. My name is going to be dragged through the mud.”

“That’s why we’re paying Freddie Eaton, honey,” I said. “He called me and he’s working on a statement. You need to talk with him if you haven’t already.”

“There are publicists out here who want to help,” she answered.

“They want your money and they want to be associated with you,” I said. “We picked Freddie together, and I think we need to let him help us. He’ll get it right and after all, we aren’t a California couple. Are we?”

“No, I suppose not,” she said, sniffling back a tear. “People are going to say the worst things…baby, I’m just sick about this! I didn’t know – I really didn’t know!”

The pain in her voice cut right through me. Too far away – I was helpless, powerless to soothe her misery. I sighed heavily and pounded the pillows on our king-sized bed in frustration.

There is nothing I can do to help her.

# # #

tenthreeleader · February 4, 2009

Wednesday, December 31

Few things are worse for a married man who loves his wife than to be alone on New Year’s Eve.

I attended the team’s New Year’s Eve gathering at the training ground tonight – but obviously I had to go stag. That wasn’t so much fun.

But for a few hours I was able to forget my worries, and spent the evening in conversation with my coaches while watching my players attract the attention of all sorts of lovely young ladies who somehow got into the event.

I was at a bit of a loss to understand how that happened. Players got to bring guests but for a few of them the party started to take on the appearance of a mixer – while the manager was in the room. I frowned at that for a time until I realized that as long as I could keep an eye on them, nothing was going to happen.

So I was very much the ‘mother hen’ of the party, sitting in a corner watching my players and their friends ring in the new year.

Patty was kind enough to call me right at midnight London time, which was four o’clock on the American West Coast, but her mood wasn’t much better.

“I’ve been dodging media all day,” she said. “I don’t want to talk about Peter but it seems wherever I go that’s all anyone wants to talk about. Except IMG. They want me for other reasons.”

“I hope it’s not the same reasons I want you,” I said, in a feeble attempt at humor.

“Not the same, but the same principle,” she said sadly.

“Honey, I keep coming back to it, but I really think you should let Freddie handle this. Tell them you don’t have anything to say and you are referring comment to your publicist.”

“It won’t matter,” she sighed. “I’m going to be known as a homewrecker.”

“Not when the truth comes out,” I said. “You’ll get to tell the truth. He trapped you and he was awful to you.”

“It doesn’t change the facts,” she said. “I had a relationship with a married man and broke up his marriage.”

“Peter McGuire broke up his marriage, you didn’t,” I said. “Honey, you can’t blame yourself for that. He trapped you.”

“I didn’t struggle, I didn’t try to figure out why he wasn’t with me all the time when we were together,” she said. “In that regard, Kate was right. I feel awful, Rob – just terrible!”

There was no consoling her. She is under pressure that I can’t help fix – and at the moment, I’m wondering just what I’m supposed to do.

# # #

Marchie · February 5, 2009

Fly to her.....

Panpardus · February 5, 2009

Or Divorce her and call her a homewrecker as well, should have interesting things happen with the family if that happens!

Still reading 10-3, and as always great work

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