Rob Ridgway's "Rat Pack"

stoehrst · August 11, 2009

10-3 I know this is very, VERY late, but I'm reading back to catch up on a lot of what I missed and I noticed on post 714 you had the team take the pitch to "Never Never Land" by Metallica. As an avid Metallica fan, I must take issue, because they have never recorded a song by that title! I think you're referring to "Enter Sandman," which has the lyrics "off to Never Never Land" in it.

Tremendous writing as always, pal KUTGW

tenthreeleader · August 11, 2009

Lots of comments - thanks to all! Kryston, I think you're right about Reading these days though I'd defer to SCIAG's judgment on that. All I know is that taking over the club it looked a lot different and it has been fun to try to 'fill the gaps'. Mark, thanks for your readership ... hopefully we'll give the Gunners all they want! And stoehrst, you are quite right -- thank you for catching the continuity error on my part. I've fixed the post and I appreciate your eagle eyes!

___

We kicked off to a loud crowd, which was into the match from the beginning. The supporters here, even if they aren’t always loyal to some of the players, are pretty smart. They know the score, so to speak, and they knew we faced a tall task. They also knew that their team had taken the measure of these Gunners twice already this season, on unfriendly turf. So the comforts of home should have been more than enough to ensure a good match from the home point of view.

We faced a case of the curse you sometimes get from raised expectations. That was all right with me – raised expectations are why we’re all here. As two teams who really like to play football got down to business, what we saw was actually quite an advertisement for the beautiful game.

The action was fast and furious. As they always do wherever they play, the Gunners attempted to dictate the tempo. That meant a flowing game with the ball on the floor as they put on their usual passing show.

We held them off early, and got the first decent chance just six minutes into the match, when Maloney barely missed from a set piece twenty yards in front of Lukas Fabianski’s goal. The same player got the second great chance eight minutes later – and this time played a perfect ball from Kitson wide to the left of the Arsenal keeper.

It was frustrating, but we stayed patient. Part of our VEGA analysis showed how they prefer to build up and our players were well briefed on how the Gunners were likely to try to attack us. Not surprisingly, their buildup often works through Fabregas and the catalyst of the Arsenal attack was very busy in the early going.

However, he was also wearing Pazienza like a second shirt, and that caused him some problems. The Italian midfielder wouldn’t give Cesc room to breathe, clogging up the middle and slowing the Arsenal attack through the center of the park.

That isn’t to say they were bereft of opportunities. They were not. Service soon shifted to the wings, and they generated a couple of good chances right after ours. Tomas Rosicky was the provider for the first one, knocking a fine ball through to Eduardo in the right hand channel only for him to become the third player to shoot over the bar within a fifteen minute span.

However, our work after that chance was poor. Lobont’s goal kick found its way from Fabregas to Eduardo with frightening ease, and from thence onto the run of Adebayor, who had ghosted right on past Sonko without so much as a second glance.

Lobont saw the danger and quickly came out to cut down the angle. Adebayor let the ball get away from him for just a moment – and it gave my keeper enough time to collect at the striker’s feet. Adebayor tried to shoot but, unable to round the keeper, hit Lobont squarely in his hands.

It was the start of a good period for Arsenal. Their passing picked up, their pace picked up right along with it, and then they started to move through the middle. Abou Diaby, playing in the center of midfield, was next to challenge. They were in full flow and his 1-2 passing work with Fabregas freed him up for a shot that Lobont tipped over the top with an acrobatic, leaping save.

Things were indeed warming up, but not necessarily in the way we wanted them. They were moving forward with too much confidence for my liking. I whistled for Pazienza, who was still doing a generally nice job despite the chances Arsenal was starting to generate, and made a pushing motion with my hands – for a countering mindset.

He nodded. We had discussed the need to absorb Arsenal’s pressure and now was as good a time as any to start turning all that talk into action.

Having burned Arsenal more than once with our counter game, the players were confident enough to give it a ‘right go’, as they say here. We looked comfortable as we absorbed some fine – and rather pretty to watch – Arsenal play over the next few minutes.

We were holding our own. That much was certain. I looked on with some pride as the players raised their game to match the intensity of the visitors – and then we struck.

It came on a counter and it was Dagoberto doing the damage. It happened quickly – Diaby was stripped of possession by Pazienza just inside the halfway line and his ball up the middle sent the Brazilian scampering onto it with the Arsenal center-halves in desperate pursuit.

Fabianski saw the danger immediately and made a razor-sharp reaction, racing to cut down the angle. But he went too far.

Literally. He lost track of his surroundings and actually left his area, leaving him helpless as Dagoberto came to the ball. It was a simple thing to round the keeper, now needing to avoid committing a professional foul, and slotting home on 39 minutes to get us into the lead.

The roar of anticipation from the crowd as Pazienza’s pass found the striker turned into a roar of joy as Dagoberto’s 14th goal of the season rolled home into the unguarded Arsenal goal. I couldn’t have asked for better – a late lead in the half and an entire intermission for our visitors to stew about conceding late.

Immediately I pulled off the offensive “gas” in our alignment, fully intending to take that lead to the break. We did, which was a great thing, and I had a happy bunch seated in front of me for the halftime team talk.

“That’s how this team can play,” I encouraged. “Don’t let up. You know that if you let up, they’ll be hell to deal with. I know you can do this job – you’ve done it twice before and you have the chance to make a real statement if you can just keep up the level of your play in the second half. That is up to you, but again, I know you can do it.”

# # #

viperk1 · August 11, 2009

Your Reading team defies belief, 10-3 - there is absolutely no way I could go this long into a season and lose as few games as you have.

Damn you and your Leroy Lita and your counter attacking and your bloody top five place.

Just messing - I honestly hope I have this much success when Knight starts his season. Keep up the effort - and the top four will buckle.

Bennico · August 11, 2009

Ahh, damn. I guess it had to happen eventually, but I've now finally caught up with the story, and have no option but to wait for updates, like everyone else.

I even made a conscious effort to slow down my reading speed once I'd reached page 8, to prolong the inevitable for as long as possible.

But that was easier said than done. It is a very difficult story to stop reading.

To say I am impressed with your work, would be an understatement comparable with my stating that Peter Crouch is tall. I tend to find myself forgetting that this is all based upon the results of a computer game we enjoy playing, such is the immersive nature of your writing style, along with the complexity and depth of your storyline.

Such a shame that copyright laws would most likely prevent you from publishing this in paperback; as it surely deserves to be.

You are an extremely talented writer my friend, and I am very grateful for the time and effort you have gone to, in creating and sharing this utterly absorbing story with us.

I'm away on holiday with my family at the moment, and when I return, was planning to start sharing my own game in the new Careers Forum, but you have inspired me to invest the extra time into having a go at a story of my own.

Words do not really suffice for your fine efforts here, so I shall simply say, thank you.

Now, please hurry up and write the next chapter.

tenthreeleader · August 12, 2009

viper, thanks for the good wishes. I will say this -- as I said to weeeman upthread, there's no doubt I've been fortunate in this save. I think I've got a good tactic and I think I play to the strengths of my players through the counter game. Yet, without Lita I'd be mid-table. Bennico, I really appreciate your kind words. I'll look forward to reading your story as well! I have had a publisher express some interest in my work, so we will see how it goes.

___

Wow, were they upset.

Arsenal came out in the second half loaded for bear. Their shape immediately assumed an attacking bent and even though it was still 4-4-2, Fabregas and Diaby were right up behind the strikers. Wenger was evidently determined to get back on terms sooner rather than later, so we had to deal with our visitors’ malicious intent.

We served notice we wouldn’t be intimidated two minutes after the restart, when Sonko crashed into Eduardo with a beautifully-timed challenge about five yards outside our area, just after the striker had received a lead ball. It was all ball, and it was physical. The crowd roared, Eduardo toppled over like a lot of strikers do after they’ve just been dispossessed, and play went back the other way. Referee Steve Bennett waved away Eduardo’s protests as he ran back to join the play.

We got a lift from that. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. While Sonko was doing a job on Eduardo, Emanuel Adebayor worked his way around Bikey just outside the area and his powerfully taken effort had Lobont grasping at air on 48 minutes. The shot flew over the keeper’s outstretched hands to his left and the Gunners were indeed back on terms.

“That was quick,” I sighed, as Dillon looked at me with a perturbed expression on his face. It does seem like every time I tell this team to ‘keep it up’ at halftime, they find ways to let me down – again, sooner rather than later. The fact that we’re still in the race tells me they can find ways to stay resilient, but to concede so soon after that team talk was annoying.

There are times that a manager dares not show the frustration he feels. Now was one of those times. It’s like dealing with children sometimes – when you tell them not to do something and then they go out and do it anyway, sometimes a parent considers suicide as the easy option.

Instead, I bit my tongue, took the role of the patient parent and clapped my hands to get the squad moving again as we prepared to kick off.

Watching Arsenal after they scored, I noted a bit of respect shown to my team. They didn’t pile men forward in search of an immediate go-ahead goal as they do against so many other teams. Having been burned so often by our counter game, they showed us the respect of caution immediately after they scored.

“That’s something, anyway,” I said to Dillon, and he gave me an uncomprehending expression.”

“Not throwing everything forward,” I said, and now he nodded silently in reply. “They seem to respect us a bit.”

That was wise. We then gained the ascendancy for the next few minutes, with Maloney making everything happen in the middle of our engine room. He was doing very well for himself, creating in a way we haven’t seen him do for some weeks now. He was active, involved and showing flashes of the form that had made him a fan favorite right after his purchase from Villa.

First he looked to his right, finding Kitson level with Touré twenty yards from goal, with the striker’s shot cannoning off the defender’s leg and behind for a corner. Then he was taking the corner, putting a well-taken effort right on the noggin of Kalou, who drilled a well-taken effort right at Fabianski.

We were playing with more confidence now – and the match became a balancing act. If we displayed too much confidence, Arsenal’s skill would really burn us. It was an exercise of control on the part of both teams – both wanting to push forward but respecting the quick-strike ability of the opponent.

The challenge was profound. Mentally, I had never been so locked into a match. Arsene Wenger is of course a fabulous tactician so as play moved on, Dillon and I watched for any nuance that would either signal his intentions or, better yet, find a weak spot we could exploit.

There was an undercurrent in the stands as well, as the fans sensed a chess match was going on. It was the kind of match where I genuinely felt sorry for those people in my homeland who don’t understand this game and don’t want to learn.

Some people will tell you that a game where the score is 1-1 is ‘boring’. This was anything but. The chances were good but not spectacular, fine offensive play was blunted by good positioning and inspired defense, and the teams circled each other like two middleweight boxers looking to land a killer punch.

Wimb The Barman · August 12, 2009

10-3 A very well written work I must say, which is made even more enjoyable by the fact that I'm a devout Reading FC fan (if only Leroy had been as productive in real life ) Keep up the good work sir.

copperhorse21 · August 13, 2009

Definitely a fine read as many others have indicated above. Though I'm a Rob Ridgway fan, I'm still a Gunner fan too so I'll be hoping the third time is the charm....lol

tenthreeleader · August 13, 2009

Copper, thanks for your praise as always ... hold onto your hat for the end! Wimb, I'm really happy to see that you found this thread. When I first posted here I saw your allegiance to Reading in your profile and wondered if you would read. Between you and SCIAG, I'm sure you'll both keep me on the straight and narrow!

___

Now it was our turn. They were starting to take over possession again – and we stung them. This time it was Faé on the right side of midfield who won a ball – something he doesn’t do nearly as much as I’d like him to do despite his insistence that he’s really a defensive midfielder – and he returned the ball down the right onto the run of the overlapping Ferreira.

I was starting to wonder where the Portuguese could possibly have come from – he was in full flight down the right before anyone realized where he was going – and we were on the counterattack quicker than you could say ‘Ron Atkinson makes up silly words and phrases’.

Tell you what, though, Ferreira flew into the Arsenal area early doors, finally closed down by the desperate Touré, the only Gunner defender able to anticipate his direction. Paolo finished the end of a lung-busting forty-yard scamper by crossing deftly for Dagoberto, waiting with little eyebrows at the second post. He made no mistake.

Just after the hour, we had our lead back, we had our breakthrough and the place was an outdoor insane asylum. There is no greater instant gratification in sports than a footballer scoring a goal, and now we enjoyed the moment.

Wenger stood at the front of his technical area, arms folded over his head in a combination of disgust and disappointment. It was lightning in a bottle for us – again. We were, if you will, in an amusement arcade.

# # #

“Half an hour to go,” I said to no one in particular, pulling Maloney back into the center of midfield to play a flat 4-4-2 until the substitutes who now knew the drill were ready to go into the match.

Our substitution patterns are known to just about anyone in the league who cares to pay attention. It’s Lita when we’re losing, it’s Harper and Magallón when we’re winning, and that’s about it.

Tactically, we aren’t all that hard to figure out. But when we’re creative – as we were on the second goal – having us figured out isn’t a guarantee that you can stop us. And as Dagoberto returned to the center circle for Arsenal’s kickoff, his 15th goal of the season had simply proven it.

Now the chess match shifted its focus, as Arsenal brought all its offensive flair to bear against us. The challenge then shifted to our attempts to hold the lead.

The challenge is sort of like trying to catch a handful of flying Jell-O. You might succeed but it’s going to be an ugly mess when you’re done. Their talent, all over the pitch, is very difficult to contain but I was optimistic about our chances. We stood up to them immediately.

We also defended the box very well. Over the next few minutes they tried to climb straight back into the match and we held them on the perimeter of our box. Whatever Lobont could see, he could punch or handle and they weren’t going to beat him from that distance as long as he had his angles covered.

I was very proud of our play. They even went to a more direct style to find a way to goal, which was news to me. Wenger is of course famous for his ‘do it my way or die trying’ style of playing for the perfect pass and the perfect way to goal, so to see his team trying to hit balls over the top for Adebayor was really something to see. They were getting frustrated.

Of course, I didn’t mind that at all and finally pulled Maloney on 70 minutes when Magallón was ready. He jogged onto the pitch, not quite back at full fitness but certainly capable of giving me twenty good minutes as a second holding midfielder. Harper followed moments later, and Pazienza moved into the center of midfield as part of a triangle of pretty good defensive mids.

We were fifteen minutes from time and I had the players I wanted on the pitch, where I wanted them. Kalou and the two strikers lurked menacingly in case the Gunners entertained any idea of venturing too far forward with too many players. They knew the dangers of our counter game and as a result they were careful until ten minutes remained and they had no option but to get forward.

Kitson came off as we went to a pure 4-5-1 to try to hold the lead before fans who were really starting to get into the match, now building toward its finish. I was very pleased with our shape, with the way we were picking up the Arsenal forwards even when they went to the inevitable 4-2-4, and we just weren’t giving them room to breathe. It looked very similar to our FA Cup win over Liverpool.

But then I looked up to see the ball ricocheting out of our net, courtesy of Adebayor’s thunderous right foot. It had happened too quickly for me to get a good look at it – I had turned for a quick comment from Dillon – but the striker had turned Bikey ever so slightly and found just enough space to make solid contact with a loose ball at the top of our area. Lobont was unsighted and the goal evened things up even as it brought a howl of disappointment from our faithful.

Now it was the traveling support’s turn to scream like madmen as with ten minutes to play we found ourselves hauled back to even terms for the second time in the match.

Not only that, we were in the wrong formation to try to make a break for it. It was the right time of the match to go defensive, with ten minutes to play at home and protecting a lead, but we were ill-equipped to go after a winner with the players we had on the pitch.

Arsenal was in a better position to fight for the winner, having their offensive-minded players already on the pitch. From that standpoint things did not look very good.

Still, all credit to my players for trying. We pushed hard for a winner, playing out of a 4-4-2 with attacking wings, and generated one more good chance.

It was Dagoberto again, trying to make something out of nothing from thirty yards in front of goal. Then, suddenly, he was in the clear, having skinned Diaby and Touré in quick succession. He bore in on Almunia and rifled a very well-struck volley – that the keeper turned round the left post.

That was it. The draw had been great to watch, wonderful for the neutral, but as Wenger and I shook hands and we headed for the tunnel I wondered what would happen next. After all, we hadn’t won.

Reading 2 (Dagoberto 14th 39, 15th 60)

Arsenal 2 (Emanuel Adebayor 19th 48, 20th 83)

A – 24,116, Madejski Stadium, Reading

Man of the Match – Dagoberto, Reading (7)

# # #

copperhorse21 · August 13, 2009

Yeah man! That's what I'm talking about! One point is better than nothing, but still not enough to get rid of Wenger's scowl. Exciting read. Thanks.

Wimb The Barman · August 13, 2009

No worries 10-3. It's been nice to read about what might have been had we not been relegated, good to see you with a replica shirt also, though that one didn't see action beyond 2007/2008 as we are now sponsored by Waitrose.

Your writing is making it harder for me to resist writing another tale keep up the fine work.

tenthreeleader · August 14, 2009

Copper, nice to know I've managed to satisfy everyone! Wimb, thanks again. I did a search for a Reading shirt that would have been from the storyline time of Rob's first tenure with the club but that was a tall order. I like wearing the shirt around town and observing the looks I get from people.

___

“Not a bad match.”

I was given to understatement as I started the post-match comments but as I got into the interviews I saw the glowering figure of Sidney Richmond at the back of the room. That wasn’t positive, but I was certain of one thing; if he tried anything in front of the press he’d have trouble.

Evidently Madejski either hadn’t spoken to him or else he hadn’t listened. Neither prospect, to me, was especially palatable. But then, as I spoke, I noticed that Richmond wasn’t even bothering to approach the front of the room.

He was speaking to Emiliani, who had his notebook open and was scribbling just as furiously as he had been outside my office.

# # #

Liverpool won today, defeating Chelsea 2-1 at Anfield to continue their late season march. They left it late, after Giuseppi Rossi’s opener on the half hour for the Blues. Peter Crouch equalized five minutes from time and then Lucas sent Anfield into a frenzy with the winner in injury time.

Chelsea is still in charge of the league race, of course, but we could have used a little help from them to slow down the champions, who needed a result to have any chance of repeating.

However, United dropped points at Eastlands in the Manchester Derby, and as the coaches reviewed the scores today, we weren’t upset to see what we saw from the blue side of Manchester.

Cristiano Ronaldo had opened the scoring with a second minute penalty, only to see Pablo Zabaleta equalize just before halftime. Ronaldo completed a brace early in the second half but Darius Vassell earned a split in the points nine minutes from time.

So it could have been worse. But it was far from perfect.

# # #

Thursday, March 12

“That little s**t!”

Amazingly enough, those weren’t my words. They were Patty’s, and she was on the internet reading the latest from Gazzetto Dello Sport.

Obviously, the words Emiliani wrote – now that he once again seems to be on the Rob Ridgway beat as opposed to his theoretical beat of the entire Premiership – had struck close to home.

I had just finished shaving and was about to leave for the ground, pulling on the top of my tracksuit to finish dressing.

“What’s up, babe?” I asked.

“That little s**t!” she repeated. “He wrote that Richmond will discipline you for verbal and emotional abuse of Willie Winthrop. Can you believe that?”

I shook my head. “Typical of him,” I said. “There was no abuse, and he has no power to discipline in any event. What happened was the manager instructing a club employee to work within a schedule and to be civil in so doing. Sir John won’t be happy to learn of this so-called story.”

“Richmond’s another one on my list,” my wife said. I learned long ago that Patty’s list isn’t a place I ever want to be. “I get tired of people who think they know more than the people in charge.”

“Well, the problem with Sidney is that he thinks he is the one in charge,” I said. I crossed behind my wife and rubbed her shoulders to take away some of the strain that already seemed to be congregating there.

“Rob, I worry for you,” she said. “I would like nothing better than to just get away from all of this for awhile.”

“We’ve got time coming up, and I wouldn’t mind getting out of town myself,” I said. “I hear from Adrian every other day or so now, we have business to take care of on that front, and we’re finishing a tough stretch in the fixture list.”

“Promise me,” she said, her hands trailing to her shoulders where I was still rubbing and squeezing, “that you’ll get us out of here for a little while as soon as you can?”

The look in my wife’s eyes had been missing for far too long. “I’m ready to start living again,” she said. “No lawyers, none of this petty bickering that we see in the press here every single day – I just want time with you, as far away as we can get, with as much sand and water as we can find. What do you think?”

I smiled down at her, and kissed the top of her head. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, darling,” I said. “We’ll work on that tonight, and you can book reservations for wherever you think we should go. We haven’t even had a decent honeymoon yet.”

“I know,” she answered. “That’s part of what bothers me. We’ve had all the work associated with being married with none of the fun!”

Now I grinned. “Well, we’ve had some of the fun, haven’t we?”

“Not nearly as much as we should have,” she replied.

# # #

SCIAG · August 14, 2009

I know of a Reading fan in Seattle- he says people give him very funny looks when he tells them he's a Reading fan

Wimb The Barman · August 14, 2009

I know of a Reading fan in Seattle- he says people give him very funny looks when he tells them he's a Reading fan

Is that Seahawk from HobNob?

WelshWolf · August 14, 2009

Finally managed to get around to catching up again, and am continually amazed at your ability - both at writing and at playing FM.

tenthreeleader · August 15, 2009

Thanks to all ... I appreciate the kindness, WelshWolf. SCIAG and Wimb, I've lurked HobNob but have never posted there. In the midst of all this writing it's on my list of things to do.

___

We’ve gone from the top of the table to rock bottom. We are preparing for our rematch with Dave Jones and Cardiff City, this time at Ninian Park.

The twentieth-placed team in the table, even away from home, should be a more appetizing prospect for us than Arsenal. The time is now to make hay – we feel the sun is about to start shining.

Our rivals are in similar situations this weekend. Chelsea is away to Derby, United hosts 19th placed Birmingham, and Liverpool is away to Portsmouth. We are going to have to perform. That’s part of the job, of course, and it’s a challenge we relish.

Of course, the talk of the media this morning was about Emiliani and the assertions he made in his article. This time, Madejski was quick to act. He had a statement prepared and it was handed out to media before I even arrived at the ground.

“Last week, manager Rob Ridgway was involved in a disagreement with a Reading staff member over a matter of office business in which an imposition was made upon Mr. Ridgway’s time. Members of the press have speculated, wrongly, that a breach of internal club policy was committed in this case.
The matter is being handled internally by Reading Football Club with no punitive action expected against either party involved. We ask the press to please refrain from reporting speculation and instead report true and accurate facts.

Reading Football Club will have no further comment on this matter.”

“Jill, do you have any questions?” I asked, as I walked into the interview area. “About football, that is.”

She was the first one there, as she usually is, so for a few moments it was just Jill, me, and Watson standing in the room.

“Aren’t you tired of all this, Rob?” she asked. “I mean, that’s not about football, but aren’t you tired of all this?”

I noted that even though Weatherby and Emiliani had been writing outside my office yesterday, only the Italian had actually written about the incident itself. Weatherby’s match commentary spoke the truth – it had been a scintillating match yesterday, a great advertisement for the beautiful game.

“I am tired of it, yes,” I said. “I would like us all to concentrate on the run-in to the end of the season, which looks to be the most successful this club has ever had. There is no reason to look for trouble. I thank those members of the media, including yourself, who have shown discretion in this area.”

“Oh, don’t think I won’t write about it,” Weatherby said, thereby sinking my high hopes with one broadside from her pen.

“So why are you asking me if I’m sick of all this?” I asked, taking a rare cross tone with the Post reporter.

“I didn’t say how I was going to write it,” she answered. Just then, other media arrived, and the conversation ceased.

# # #

copperhorse21 · August 16, 2009

A great cliffhanger!

tenthreeleader · August 16, 2009

Thanks, Copper ... what ought to be Rule Number One for the press is in play here; be right before you worry about being first.

___

The others could at least read English and I made it abundantly clear that the club’s position as expressed in the news release would be my own. There are times when I don’t take a severe enough tack with the press and it’s time I changed that. Today was an excellent day to start.

“This is a non-issue,” I said. “That’s all there is to it.”

“Okay, let’s talk about Cardiff,” one of the pool reporters said. Inwardly, I was shocked that someone had shown deference to my expressed wishes. “Last time you played, Dave Jones accused you and your players of arrogance. Did you remember that and what do you propose to do about the comments made?”

“Well, if you think I’m going to challenge Dave to a duel or something you’ll be sorely disappointed,” I said. “I didn’t agree with those comments at the time and I said so. The last time we played Cardiff it was a rough match, there were a lot of cards handed out and there was some bad feeling at the end of the match. We forget about those things in this room, but I do want us in the proper frame of mind as we head out to Cardiff for the rematch. We have a lot to play for and if they are going to have any chance of staying up they have to get three points on Sunday.”

“Could you use a little swagger, perhaps, after the Arsenal match?”

“Not sure where you’re headed with that question, but I do think we need to play with confidence,” I answered. “We aren’t in the situation where we can show up and expect to win, but our recent fixture list has been hectic and reasonably successful. I want us in a good groove to end the season, and if we play well to the end we might wind up in Europe.”

“You think you will make it, then?”

“I like the numbers,” I admitted. “Still, though, we have a lot of football to play and against some very good opposition. We will need to be good and we need it to start on Sunday.”

# # #

“How about now?”

“Now would be fine,” I said, motioning Willie Winthrop to a chair opposite my desk. “We’ve got time and I can give you the attention you deserve. Now, let’s get down to your business.”

“You mean you aren’t angry?” he said, a surprised expression on his face.

“I didn’t say that,” I answered, looking at the younger man with a neutral expression. “I know that someone somewhere talked with a director of this club and that has caused embarrassment for Reading FC in the press and embarrassment to my own person. The list of suspects is pretty short.”

He blushed. It wasn’t difficult to find out who the “culprit” had been.

“I was angry,” he admitted. “I have a job and deadlines. Last week wasn’t good for my job or my reputation.”

“I’ll grant that,” I said. “But let’s come to an understanding. I promise I won’t get in the way of you doing your job if you promise to understand that the football side is the football side. I have a schedule and it’s well known to everyone in the front office. Oh, and let’s try to stay out of the press, shall we?”

“My job is to be in the press,” he said, in an attempt at humor that he quickly realized was ill-advised.

“Let’s get to your business,” I said. “I’m due on the training pitch in thirty minutes.”

# # #

tenthreeleader · August 17, 2009

Friday, March 13

Lucky day? Or unlucky?

I’ve never been one to be superstitious – at least about this day. My pre-match superstitions, though, have been well documented.

I returned home late last night after a very long day at the office reviewing VEGA assessments of Cardiff to prepare the match plan. I arrived to find a darkened house. Nothing unusual there.

Patty likes to turn down the lights in the evenings, but as I headed to the master bedroom to hang up my work clothes, I noticed she was already in bed.

With candles lit on each of our nightstands. So, she wasn’t ready for sleep.

“Hi, honey,” she cooed, rolling to her side to greet me. “Thought you might like to have your wife back for a little while. What do you say?”

I smiled – thankfully, the low light in the room managed to obscure the more wolfish aspects of the grin I gave her – and I approached her.

“I say 'welcome home',” I answered, sliding into our bed beside her and finally taking her in my arms. It seemed like it had been forever since we had been close, and as I gently stroked a lock of her red hair away from her eyes, she vocalized what I had been feeling.

“I’ve been a bit of a fool, Rob,” she said, nestling her head against my shoulder.

“You’ve been no such thing,” I insisted.

“Shhhh,” she whispered, giving me a soft kiss. “But I’ve looked at the schedule and you’re on international break after this coming midweek.”

“Yes, we are,” I said. “So why does that make you a fool?”

“I should have booked our flight a long time ago,” she said. “I did today. You and I are going to the Caymans next Thursday morning.”

“I haven’t even had a chance to tell the staff!” I said, looking at her in shock. Delighted shock, mind you, but shock nonetheless.

“I called Paula this morning,” she said, nuzzling me. “She cleared the trip with Sir John. So you, my love, are taking a week off and you are going to lie on a beach with your wife for seven whole days. What do you think about that?”

“I think I like it,” I laughed.

“You think? You think?” Thankfully, her tone was playful. “Well, Mr. Rob Ridgway, I am going to have to go back to the basics with you.”

With that, she rolled to her elbows and slid slowly on top of me. “It’s Friday the 13th,” she said, pointing to the clock which read two minutes past midnight. “You’re starting your day by getting lucky.”

# # #

“What happened to you?” Dillon asked as I tossed my carry bag on the couch opposite my desk at the training facility.

“How’s that?” I asked.

“You’ve got this dumb grin on your face,” he laughed. “Really, Rob, you were either smoking something or life got real good for you all of a sudden.”

“Go shave your head, Kevin,” I replied, throwing a balled-up wad of tape at him from the bottom of my locker in a friendly manner. “After all that’s happened with me and Patty and losing the baby over the last few weeks, a little rapprochement isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

“It was that bad?” he asked. “Not to pry, of course.”

“It has taken time,” I said, as I started to change into my training gear. It was also a warm day today and I was going to tempt fate and the early English spring by wearing shorts onto the practice pitch. “I had to give it time. I adore Patty and everyone knows that, but we just had to find our own places for awhile.”

“Well, for your sake I’m glad it seems to have been sorted,” he said. “I saw what it was starting to do to you.”

“She booked plane tickets for the Caymans next week,” I said. “Whatever wasn’t fixed last night hopefully will be by the time we get back.”

“Good man,” he replied. “I’m really happy to hear that, Rob. You deserve it. Just do yourself a favor and keep those tabloids away from you when you’re on the beach, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “I just wish I could make sure of it.”

# # #

copperhorse21 · August 17, 2009

I've always thought 13 was a lucky number.....

tenthreeleader · August 18, 2009

Copper, my birthday is on a 13th, so I tend to agree with you

___

Saturday, March 14

We’re in Cardiff this evening, to play our last match at Ninian Park. The Bluebirds will move into a new stadium next season, along with the Cardiff Blues rugby club, so the old ground is winding down its tenure as the home of the club since 1910.

The place is named for Lord Ninian Crichton-Stuart, who was a Member of Parliament killed in action in World War I. The stadium, like some of the older ones in Britain, is a bit of an amalgam – for example, the Diamondvision monitor used to show highlights in the stadium is actually Bolton’s old screen, purchased when the Reebok Stadium was built in 1992.

So when we arrived here this afternoon to unload kit and get our room ready for tomorrow’s match, I got another chance to look around the old place, as is my custom. The fact that we won’t return to this ground next season – and may not return at all next year barring a miracle for the Bluebirds – meant that this trip was a bit special.

I played in this ground a few times during my tenure as a player so it wasn’t completely unfamiliar to me. The players and staff know that I shouldn’t be disturbed when “having a walkabout”, as they jokingly call my wanderings, since it’s a chance for me to enjoy the surroundings and focus on the match.

So I meandered up and down the touchline while the support staff unloaded our kit and equipment. Soon we were back on the coach heading for the hotel, and my phone was buzzing.

I pulled it out of my pocket and opened it to reveal a note from Patty that I had to read shielded from view. Seems she had been thinking about last night as much as I had.

# # #

With a home match against Blackburn coming up on Wednesday to end the current streak of fixture congestion, I still had to be careful about who took the pitch. After Wednesday, of course, we have eleven days off and that will mean rest for most of my players, but with two important matches coming up that we need to win, I spent the evening with Dillon making sure the team sheet we’ve drawn up is what we want.

The best part of this being a weekend trip is that the Post didn’t publish today. I’m still waiting for Weatherby’s story on Richmond and myself, and I’d prefer that it come as close to the long break as possible. I’d like as much time as possible for his inevitable temper tantrum to blow over.

It’s just that simple. Distractions like this are things I simply do not need – not when times are good and most especially not now, when so much is at stake. Millions of pounds are on the line if we can finish fourth and Liverpool doesn’t wind up winning the Champions League again. I should think that this would appeal to Richmond’s sense of greed if nothing else – along with his self-expressed guardianship of the club’s image.

He simply needs to shut up and leave me alone. If I can guide this club to a fourth-place finish, the change in its long-term fortunes may well be profound. Why anyone associated with this club would want to do anything but give me all the space I need to perform that task is an utter mystery to me.

Frankly, I would even go so far as to say that any club employee who interferes with me at this point should do so at the risk of termination. I’ve frankly had it and am ready to tell Sir John that these are my honest feelings.

That would of course cause a lot of trouble, but to me it’s worth it. I have a job to do and people who get in the way of me doing that job are not worth my time. Even Phillippe Dumont has stayed away for the last couple of months because he knows how much playing in the Champions League would help Sonko’s career.

Would that some others felt the same way. I still don’t hold Dumont in particularly high regard, but at least he knows when to keep his trap shut.

# # #

As for the team sheet, Dillon and I have decided to roll the dice and play some of the regulars not only today but also in the home match against Blackburn coming up on Wednesday. We don’t have a lot of international players so we’re gambling that the players will be able to get through two games before taking a week and a half off to recharge their batteries.

At this stage of the season, I’m also expecting my best players to want to play like my best players. That means playing with the right attitude, that means expecting to be on the pitch when it counts – and right now, all the matches mean more. We’re running out of time, we need to win matches and the big guns of the team must stand up and be counted.

I’ve tried to spare certain players through the grind of the fixture list. No longer. It’s time for results and it’s time for action. And it’s time to knock off the clichés and get down to business.

# # #

tenthreeleader · August 19, 2009

Sunday, March 15

Cardiff City (3-5-21, 20th place) v Reading (14-12-3, 5th place) – EPL Match Day #30

I wasn’t terribly surprised to see a stand full of “Ayatollahs” in action well before the start of this afternoon’s match.

The traditional Cardiff City cheer of that name, and its affiliated hands-over-head patting motion, could be seen and heard all over Ninian Park long before kickoff. The atmosphere completely belied the fact that the home team is all but assured to be playing Championship football next season. You’d never guess it from looking at their fans. They seemed to be in a very good mood.

They were having fun. The one concession to Cardiff’s impending relegation that mattered, however, was the size of the crowd. It was well short of capacity, which was a bit of a shame given that the stadium itself is running out of games to host the Bluebirds.

Of course, we couldn’t worry about those things. Instead, right out of the chute we reminded one and all why the Bluebirds are sizing up a different fixture list for the 2009-10 season.

My words in the visiting changing room were the same as they were for most every away match: get on top of them early. “This is a team that is waiting for you to take the match to them,” I said. “We have an opportunity to take a real step today if we simply play like we can. Taking charge of the match is up to you. The sooner you do that, the easier the rest of the work will be. Do what is necessary and enjoy your football. Now let’s go get it done.”

I had no idea they would listen so quickly. We kicked off, the ball wound up on Kalou’s boot to the left, he took the ball to the byline and crossed to the middle – where Kitson was waiting to blast a free header past a startled Andrei Vatca with exactly twelve seconds on the clock.

My players were still getting comfortable on the bench and the home fans had hardly started to sing when my players were out of their seats and the home fans felt a need to be seated.

Kitson approached the bench with a huge grin on his face, the ball from his eleventh goal of the season already booted back toward the center line by a disgusted Vatca. Really, it was almost literally impossible to have a better start than we had just enjoyed.

“Just like they spotted us a goal,” I called back over my shoulder – quietly – to Dillon, who wore a grin almost as wide as my own.

Play resumed and almost immediately we came close again, as the same two players almost hooked up for a second time. This time, though, Kitson’s goalbound header was hacked off the line by the diving Vatca, who had made a remarkable play to get to the ball in the first place. His effort put enough sidespin on the ball to turn it around the left hand post and behind for a corner.

Smelling blood, we piled forward looking for a second goal that might have killed off the match within the first few minutes. It didn’t come, however, and Cardiff found their feet long enough for the Ayatollah to again make its appearance in the ground.

The fans have a pattern. They call on each other stand by stand, on the manager, and even certain players in turn, to “do the Ayatollah”. In the background, I found it fascinating to listen to. There are even former Bluebirds around Britain who have done the move - while playing for other teams - after scoring against one of Cardiff City’s rivals.

I would have drawn the line at the point where the Cardiff fans called on our traveling support to ‘do the Ayatollah’. Since we were in a good mood and winning the match, some of them did. I saw it, but didn’t dare laugh. After all, our fans are the ones fixated on Bill Oddie’s beard.

All that didn’t detract from the match, however, as we searched for a second goal. Our play was crisp and sharp – perhaps in part due to the caliber of the opposition we have recently faced. A steady diet of top-half clubs has made us better on and off the ball, and we took the chance to show it against the Premiership’s bottom-placed team.

Now it was Maloney coming close again, buzzing a shot over Vatca’s crossbar nine minutes into the match. I really liked our start – until Kitson went down in a heap a few moments later.

He was contesting a header and went down in a clash of heads, clutching his forehead in his hands. He sagged to the turf and all I could think about was the last time we had had him out of the eleven. His play has been very good as a targetman and a linking player as well as a goalscorer, and naturally every manager fears the worst when one of his best players falls down and doesn’t get up.

The situation looked cut and dried to me. He still held his head in his hands as he was gradually assisted to a sitting position and then back down to the turf.

“Concussion,” I said to no one in particular. We all knew it. Lita looked at me for a nod of approval and I gave it. Leroy sprang out of his seat and went through a quick warmup, naturally much sooner than he usually would. With him coming into the game, Dagoberto would move to a support role slightly behind Leroy as a true striker.

Kitson was stretchered off and straight to the changing room. We knew he’d soon be off to the hospital for a checkup but the initial reports quickly confirmed what we already knew.

“Doesn’t look too bad, Rob,” one of the medical staff called out as Kitson was rolled by us. “Just a precaution. Both his eyes are on the same side of his head so we thought we’d get him looked at.”

The humor wasn’t appreciated but I nodded, and a few moments later Lita stepped on in place of Kitson.

Thankfully, the level of our play remained high. Lita, in his usual substitute’s mindset, now had a lot more time in which to indulge his aggressive tendencies on the pitch. That boded well for us.

On we came again, with the Blues now squarely under a grey-and-black-striped cosh. This time it was an unusual source providing the pressure – it was Faé, making a strong bid for his first goal of the season by making a wonderful move to the outside with the ball and then cutting sharply to the middle instead of heading for the byline to cross as he usually does.

That caught defender Joe Ledley completely by surprise. All he could do as Faé zipped past him to the inside was reach out – and he pulled Emerse’s shirt just as he prepared to shoot.

Immediately, referee Rob Styles whistled and pointed to the spot. It was a stonewall penalty and there was really nothing else for him to do.

Grinning, Faé let Kalou take the ball and instead of gunning for his first goal himself, Emerse watched the Ivorian wing wizard power his tenth goal of the season home from the spot on 27 minutes.

We were in the catbird seat at that point. For me, the question became twofold; getting to half with a clean sheet and seeing if we could completely kill off the game with a third goal.

The priority for me was the former rather than the latter. We were doing everything right, and the Bluebirds could hardly get a sniff at our goal. The rest of the first half was the same for us – good chances, excellent possession and a poise that had frankly been lacking in some of our recent matches.

In short, it was confidence against a lower-placed team, away from home. Styles blew for halftime and we headed to the changing room feeling very good about ourselves.

# # #

tenthreeleader · August 20, 2009

“Okay, guys, let’s see a little swagger out there!”

My words to the team at halftime were reminiscent of Jones’ comments about my side after the first match of the season between the clubs. It had stuck in our craw then, and I was determined to stick them in Jones’ craw now, as our season series with the Bluebirds came to an end.

Clearly, we were bossing the match and what I really hoped to see from my players was another goal or two. I would have settled for a solid second half performance, though, and the way we had started the match I would have been entitled to expect one.

The second half began and the Bluebirds pushed at us. Not physically, mind you, but they tried to carry the play to us. That said, their desire wasn’t matched by their application, which told me that Jones had laid into his team during the break. They either didn’t have the skill (which I doubted) or the desire (which would have been unfortunate but understandable) to really push us hard.

We got through the first ten minutes of the second half with some ease, and then Vatca made things interesting. With Maloney bearing down on him from forty yards and a loose ball between them about ten yards out of the Cardiff City area, the keeper came to clear the ball. He arrived moments before Maloney but scuffed his clearance, squibbing a ball down the left side of the pitch – our right.

Ferreira chest-trapped the ball to the ground and looked forward, to see Vatca thirty yards out of his goal. Without hesitation, the Portuguese made his bid, from his own side of the pitch.

He lofted a high ball toward the Cardiff City goal. His aim was true.

Vatca, sensing the danger, was already in full retreat but saw the ball was going to reach the target first. So, near the penalty spot, he leapt as high as he could – but the ball arced well over his outstretched fingertips. He fell in a heap.

“Look at this!” I screamed, as the bench rose in anticipation.

The ball fell sharply toward the goal – and hit squarely against the crossbar. The ball also rebounded straight back to Vatca, now lying prone on the pitch. The ball landed nearly in his lap, and the keeper gratefully surrounded it with his body.

I blinked hard, trying to digest what my eyes had just seen. Ferreira had made a simply brilliant play, and somehow managed to hit the bullseye of the crossbar – on the fly – from fully sixty yards away.

He stood there in the center circle, shaking his head and smiling. He hasn’t yet scored a goal for us and somehow, after that display of ill fortune, I wondered if he will this season.

Vatca presumably was able to start breathing again after he much more carefully re-started play, and once again the Bluebirds started to hammer away at our back line.

Perhaps I should have said “politely knocking”. It didn’t seem like there was a whole lot of urgency to what they were doing – not that I minded. I just hope I never manage a side with the same mind set.

Jones was pacing the touchline, alternately encouraging and lighting into his players. He was looking for a spark and was willing to adopt a couple of different personality styles to find it.

For us, that was good news. Cardiff actually never seriously threatened our goal, with Lobont forced into only three handling touches in the entire match, all from long range. Cardiff City had only one corner through the entire ninety minutes – unfortunately for them, a rather meek performance at home.

Styles finally blew for full time. For all intents and purposes, the match had actually ended long before then.

This time when I shook hands with Jones, there was a whole different look about him. He has accepted his fate.

Cardiff City 0

Reading 2 (Kitson 11th, 1; Kalou 10th pen 27)

A – 15,767, Ninian Park, Cardiff

Man of the Match – Salomon Kalou, Reading (5)

# # #

copperhorse21 · August 20, 2009

Nice match report for both these posts...I liked the mini-arc about the opposing manager and his mental state throughout the match, especially the final statement at the end. KUTGW!

tenthreeleader · August 22, 2009

Thank you as always, Copper ... I'm out of town on Friday and away from my computer ... will update Saturday afternoon CST (hopefully before bedtime across the pond) and will replace this post with that one.

spined_wurm · August 22, 2009

i started reading american calcio about a month ago and have finally caught up with the story after reading some every day. sadly, now i will be forced to wait for updates like everyone else

this is one of the best stories i have ever read, your style is amazing KUTGW!

tenthreeleader · August 22, 2009

spined_wurm, thank you for reading all the way through this admittedly lengthy tale, and thanks for giving your first post to this thread. I appreciate your readership!

___

Unfortunately, not much changed in terms of the league table. That was to be expected.

“This was a solid effort,” I told media after the match. “We got two early goals, made them stand up, and kept pace with the leaders. You can’t ask for much more than that, when all the teams ahead of you win.”

“How much are you looking forward to the coming break, Rob?” Weatherby asked. “You could probably stand to get away from it all for awhile and so could your players.”

“As long as we’re playing well we can’t wait to get back onto the pitch,” I smiled. “We are in decent shape, we’re fighting for Europe and even though we’ve got some tired players at the moment we’re ready to do what is necessary to get into Europe.”

“You haven’t talked like that before,” Hopkins said. “Are you telling us that you’re going to have European football in Reading next season?”

“The math indicates we are a strong contender,” I said. “Now, I know how you’re going to write that, but today was the kind of match that contending teams win. They go out and do the business whether they are at home or away. No disrespect to Cardiff City here, but I thought we wanted the three points more than they did and we were fortunate enough to go out and get them.”

“And Kitson?”

“Concussion from what I am told, but not a bad one,” I said. “We won’t have him for Blackburn but after the break he’ll hopefully be right as rain.”

“There were people suggesting he might get an England callup.” That was Weatherby.

“Well, if there are people suggesting that, I’d be happy to give an opinion,” I smiled. “He’s really playing well. If that ever became a thought for Steve McClaren, I’d be very happy for Dave. Right now, though, he’s not going anywhere except home to Berkshire under treatment. That was unfortunate, but it is part of the game.”

“You only committed six fouls in the entire match,” Hopkins marveled.

“Really? That few? I wasn’t aware of that,” I replied. “I think it goes to show that we just didn’t let them have decent possession today. We were in good position on both sides of the ball and we really deserved what we got.”

“Or Cardiff wasn’t interested in playing,” their beat reporter said.

“I’d never say that,” I immediately shot back.

“That’s no problem, I’ll say it for you,” the scribe said, writing some words on his pad. His mind was made up.

“Be careful how you say it,” I warned. “And don’t you dare attribute it to me.”

This sort of aggravation I didn’t need, and so I was happy to deflect questioning away from a frustrated beat reporter onto the next match for my team. “Blackburn is a dangerous side,” I said. “When they are on their game they have to be reckoned with and we have a short week to prepare. I’m pleased with this effort today but it’s of vital importance that we not lose our focus after getting three points we deserved this afternoon.”

With that, I headed back to a happy changing room and congratulated the team. “I want to give a special shout to Ferreira,” I said, with a smile on my face. “Anyone can hit an open goal. It takes real talent to hit the bar from that distance!”

Razzed good-naturedly by his teammates, Ferreira accepted congratulations for the best play of our season that didn’t wind up in the goal.

# # #

The others, as I mentioned, did what they were supposed to do. United thrashed Birmingham 4-1 at Old Trafford, with Carlos Tévez picking up a brace to go along with a goal from Wayne Rooney. Shola Ameobi also scored an own goal, which didn’t help the visitors’ cause very much, but what might help the rest of the league is some unfortunate news for United.

Michael Carrick and youngster Darron Gibson both went down with injuries this afternoon and their fate for the rest of the season isn’t immediately known. Meanwhile, Chelsea did as expected at Pride Park this afternoon and beat Derby 2-0 behind goals either side of the interval from Didier Drogba.

Liverpool had a bit of a harder time, spotting Portsmouth goals from Jermain Defoe and James Milner, before roaring back to win 4-2 at Fratton Park with Jermaine Pennant, Dirk Kuyt, Ezequiel Garay and Ryan Babel all finding the range.

As we look over our shoulders, sixth-placed Villa inflicted a costly defeat on eighth-placed Manchester City, with Steven Defour’s goal just after the hour virtually ending Sven-Goran Eriksson’s plans for Europe next season. Villa will have a job on to catch us – but we are definitely next in their sights.

Our next opponents, Blackburn, earned a 2-2 tie at home to rather pathetic Middlesbrough – Gareth Southgate needs every point he can scrape up, and getting one away will help him nicely. After their quick start, Boro is in serious danger of relegation and a turnaround needs to come quickly.

So, it’s status quo. At least we did our part.

# # #

tenthreeleader · August 23, 2009

Monday, March 16

The headline was as shocking as it was humorous.

“Rob ‘The Hammer’ Ridgway?”adorned the sports page of The Star this morning. When I heard about it at the training ground, it was the topic of quite a bit of conversation, and no small amount of angst around the club offices. The cause of the trouble was this little gem:

“The Star can reveal that Reading manager Rob Ridgway will be offered the opportunity to move to East London when West Ham do not renew the contract of Alan Curbishley at season’s end.
Sources close to Hammers chairman Eggert Magnusson say the club will make an offer to entice Ridgway, the Premiership’s first American-born boss and a candidate for Premiership Manager of the Year honours.

Ridgway is a known admirer of Hammers super-scorer Dean Ashton and is reportedly interested in considering a move.”

I picked up my phone and rang my PA. “Paula, please get me Sir John on the phone,” I said. “I have some work to do today that I hadn’t intended.”

# # #

Obviously, the history between West Ham and Reading surrounding managers and vacancies is painful. Since the Hammers hired Pardew away from this club a few years back – and since Madejski sued West Ham for doing so while Pardew was under contract – the rivalry between the clubs has been pretty keen.

So to read about any possibility of a repeat in the papers had my boss in a pretty agitated mood. “Rob, I was expecting your call,” he said. “Any truth to this?”

Never mind the fact that I was under contract to Calcio Padova at the time he had called me about my own job – he wanted to know if I had been talking. “I haven’t had time, or inclination, to talk with anyone,” I said. “And that is the truth.”

“I thought that would be the case,” he said. “You do know the history.”

“I do, but really that doesn’t matter to me at the moment,” I said. “I’m trying to get this club into Europe and maybe even into the Champions League so something like this, which is pure speculation, really takes away from the job I am here to do.”

“Good man,” Madejski said. “I’ll instruct Willie Winthrop to draft a statement.”

I blanched. “Waters might be better,” I said out of reflex. The chairman thought it through.

“Sorry, Rob,” he said. “After my talk with Sidney this week, I’d like to see a more positive relationship between the two of you. I’m bringing in Winthrop to completely revamp the club’s marketing efforts and that means you have a role to play with him. I know he can be abrasive but he’s aggressive and he’s successful. We need him and I need you to work with him as my manager. Please see this through, Rob.”

I frowned, but agreed. He’s the boss.

# # #

copperhorse21 · August 23, 2009

The rumor mill....gotta love it and hate it at the same time. Best wishes with all the controversy that is sure to come. I'm know I am relishing it!

Kryston · August 24, 2009

Hmm... seriously taking monetary issues aside (which makes no sense in the game as a team manager), I would say it would be well daft if Rob makes the switch to Upton Park.

The Hammers did had a longer history than Reading in the Premier League but squad wise I doubt they look any better than Rob's Royals...

Just my opinion...

mopphead · August 24, 2009

Never quite bothered posting before, but this very well written.

tenthreeleader · August 24, 2009

Fellows, thanks for the comments, and mopphead, welcome to the Rat Pack! I agree that a move for Rob from Reading to West Ham would be lateral at best at this point in my save, which is why he treats the article with disdain. Sometimes the game does odd things in that way, but since this is an FM story, I write about what the game tells me to write about.

___

His work was actually pretty good, so I had a prepared statement to give to the media after our morning session.

“Right now I have one priority, and that is getting Reading Football Club ready to face Blackburn Rovers in 48 hours,” I said. “There is no reason for me to have any other football related priority and that includes a job at a club that has not approached me and which has a poor relationship with my present employer when it comes to hiring managers.”

“So, no interest?” Weatherby had to ask the obvious question.

“No interest,” I said. “I respect their club as I respect everyone in the Premier League but really, I have a job to do and I’m trying to lay down some roots in Berkshire that I started to lay down the first time I lived here. I like it here and I have no plans to change anything unless I am told I need to. That job belongs to Alan Curbishley and it’s the height of irresponsibility to link any manager to that job while he’s got it.”

Too, I’m not at the point in my career where I can openly state my desire for another manager’s position and expect to be taken seriously, so I don’t do it. That’s fairly simple, even for a Yank to figure out.

The best part of it is that Sir John got to make the statement that I’m sure he was itching to make – I had no interest in the position and West Ham had better not be interested in giving it to me.

So now I have a bit of a distraction just before another very important match. I’m asking for one more big effort out of the players before we all head our separate ways for a few days, and I owe them my total concentration.

That is, when my wife doesn’t try to steal it for a few moments. While at lunch today, she phoned me at my office, which she rarely does. In fact, I can count the number of times she’s even been to see me in my office on the fingers of two hands, and I include the day we met and the day we reunited in that count.

She wants me around, but she knows that my office is my citadel and it’s where I go when I need to get away from everything. Yet today, she couldn’t resist.

“We’re leaving Thursday morning,” she whispered, and I did nothing to cool her ardor.

“I know, babe,” I grinned. “I’ve got the date circled on my calendar.”

“Well, I thought you might want to get a private showing of what the rest of the world is going to see next week,” she said, sounding as innocent as she could while she spoke. I could picture the expression on her face and suddenly found myself frustrated that I was twenty miles away from her at that moment.

“Pictures coming out?” I said.

“The beach shoot,” she answered. “It’s going to be released on Saturday. When we are thousands of miles away from the rest of the world.”

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Finally, after two years, we catch a break,” I smiled. “That works for me.”

# # #

copperhorse21 · August 25, 2009

You wrote on behalf of Rob, "Too, I’m not at the point in my career where I can openly state my desire for another manager’s position and expect to be taken seriously, so I don’t do it. That’s fairly simple, even for a Yank to figure out."

Wish Copper would have figured that out in his FM Story! He might have avoided his spartan existence altogether.

But, like you have done here. As an author, we are forced to write a story surrounding what the game gives us (and try to make it interesting) and you've done that with class in all of your stories.

tenthreeleader · August 25, 2009

Thanks for the observation, Copper ... thing of it is, Rob's wrong and he knows it. The great British sporting press is stirring things up and the only road he can take at this point in time is the straight and narrow ...

___

Tuesday, March 17

The West Ham controversy is into its second day. Curbishley is definitely on the defensive in terms of his job security so today was his day to lash out at the media. That’s what every manager who is ready to be thrown to the wolves by media or his club does. It’s how the game is played.

“I am the manager of West Ham United,” Curbishley said. “I intend to stay the manager of West Ham United and I have the assurance of the board and the chairman that this will continue to be the case. I have read the published reports linking Rob Ridgway with my job and I appreciate the public comments he has made. I intend to thank Rob for those comments, as the West Ham manager, when our clubs meet just under a month from today.”

It’s safe to say that Alan was exercised at the whole conversation. After holding down the Charlton job on an extended basis until he actually walked away from it – virtually unheard-of in this business – he’s now under the gun for the first time in a long, long time. He is a good manager, but his team isn’t getting the results his fans or his board thinks he ought to be getting. That’s enough to make anyone nervous.

Every manager knows how hard the job is to do. That’s why some of us hate it so much when someone from within the game is linked to a job that is already held. Every manager thinks he’s the best at what he does – otherwise he wouldn’t be in the job he’s in. A portion of resentment dished out to the media is understandable in such a situation. I know I’d do it if I were in that situation, and I’m only a couple of key injuries away from being in a much worse situation that I’m in right now.

Touch wood, as they say over here. I don’t need that kind of worry on top of it all.

# # #

However, I watched all that from a distance, as today’s training session was devoted solely to Blackburn.

They have weapons. As I’ve mentioned earlier, Santa Cruz is a fine player and Morten Gamst Pedersen is a player I’ve long admired, with the capability to turn a game by scoring vitally important goals. Of course, as an American I remain in open admiration of Brad Friedel in their goal, even though I think Lobont has been as good as anyone in the Premiership this season.

Yet Blackburn have been no better than average this season, since their defense has been even leakier than ours has been at certain times. As great as Friedel is, he can’t stop everything, so our task is to puncture that defense with our pace and our skill. Playing at home tomorrow, we have to be the favorite to do this.

I held Kalou, Dagoberto and Maloney out of training today to rest their legs. They have played an awful lot of football over the last few days and I wanted to make sure there was no risk of training ground injury before the match. They have almost two weeks off coming up so they can rest after tomorrow. In the meantime, an injury to any one of those three might make me take the pledge. So discretion was the better part of valor.

Of course, since I have to justify every move I make to the media, I was prepared to explain my rationale at my daily gaggle. Someone I hadn’t seen before then asked a rather remarkable question form the back of the circle surrounding me.

“Since you are saying you don’t want to risk injury to the three players by holding them out of training today, aren’t you saying to the others that it’s all right if they get hurt?”

I just stared at him. Weatherby caught my eye and she simply rolled her eyes quickly, to let a flicker of a smile cross my face before I zeroed in.

“You look a bit young,” I answered. “Been around the Premiership long?”

“Would you answer my question?” he insisted.

“I will, when I’m ready,” I answered. “But you look a bit youngish to me. If you’ve been around teams for awhile, you understand that a manager has the ability, and the authority, to hold players out of training for a variety of reasons. He also has the ability to insist that certain players train, again for reasons known only to himself. It is never a good thing to see a training injury, and I would never say that it is ‘okay’ for a player to hurt himself on the training ground. However, we do train for a reason – that is to prepare for our next opponent. I have held out these three players because I felt that their relative level of readiness would be better raised by not training than by training. Those players who were on the training pitch today were there because I came to the opposite conclusion. Now, let’s get back to my question, since this is the first time I’ve seen you here. Been around long?”

He said nothing in reply. “All right, then,” I answered. “Next question.”

# # #

tenthreeleader · August 26, 2009

Wednesday, March 18

Reading (15-12-3, 5th place) v Blackburn Rovers (11-6-13, 14th place) – EPL Match Day #31

I woke up this morning to Patty’s smiling face hovering over me. She was holding two boarding passes for our flight from Heathrow and dropped them onto my chest.

“Moved up our departure,” she said. “The flight leaves at midnight.”

“Red-eye,” I smiled, as she gave me a kiss. “I hope I can make it to the airport on time.”

“I hope you can too,” she said. “First-class tickets to the Caymans, and a vacation with me, are worth hurrying for. Don’t you think?”

I smiled up at her, and the look I got in return showed me she has been looking forward to what is to come. “I don’t want to wish my life away, but I really want this day to be over so we can get on the plane,” she teased. “I just want to get on with it and to spend some quiet time with you. Away from everything.”

“Even your father?” I teased. “Since Adrian started with us, we’ve hardly heard a word from him.”

“You mean you haven’t,” Patty responded. “I have.”

“Really?” I asked, as she pulled her hair back behind her ears so it wouldn’t hang down into my face. Her soft eyes darkened just a bit in reply.

“Well, Rob, he is my father.”

“I know, babe,” I answered. “It’s just that I thought--”

“The one we want is McGuire,” my wife reminded me. “And unfortunately, my darling, you can’t change your relatives.”

“But you can change their behavior,” I said bravely.

“We’ll see about that,” she said. “That’s my job to encourage, not yours. Obviously, I want him happy about us, but if we have to do something to correct his behavior I’ll be the one taking the bullet for it, not you.”

I dropped the subject. Martin’s behavior, in my book, needed correcting months ago. But, what the heck. Better late than never.

“I’ll be happy to help,” I said, as she snuggled close to me.

“I know you will,” she answered. Her warmth seemed to envelop me in a wave of soft bliss. What on earth have I been missing for the last three months?

“Honey, I wish we could leave now,” I sighed, stroking her hair as she nestled in against my chest.

“Then get started with your day,” she finally said, reluctantly rising to get out of bed. “Maybe things will move faster if you do.”

# # #

Weeknight matches have rarely been big favorites of mine, especially when I’m in a hurry to go someplace after they are done. I spent my morning finishing up with the packing – I had planned to do some of it tonight, back when we were supposed to fly out tomorrow morning – but Patty’s change in plans certainly moved things along in that planning department.

We’re both veteran travelers, so that job wasn’t as hard as it otherwise might be. It was actually a light morning, as we shared little teases and smiles that helped set the stage for the long overnight flight to the west.

It was so good, in fact, that heading in to the stadium this afternoon was an experience in frustration. I am as intense as anyone when I am preparing to manage a match, but I’ve had other things on my mind over the last couple of days that are frightfully important to me. So I have a lot on my plate.

It was liberating, in a sense, to have already decided to play the first-team players on short rest without worrying about the squad players. By and large, the players in my squad have shown me they deserve to be there. So to start my traditional first-choice eleven, with the exception of the injured Kitson – now strengthened by the addition of Magallón, fit again for full duty, on the bench – made me feel good.

That has come at the expense of Gaspari, who needs matches with the reserves, preferably paired with Craig Cathcart in the center of defense. The two of them are a big part of our future if I don’t make any other purchases in the coming close season, with Cathcart especially figuring into my plans.

But for now, they are second choice and that is the way it has to be. The players who greeted me when I walked into the home changing room were the same ones who have greeted me for most of the season. There is a comfort in that, especially when we’re winning.

I tossed a wave in the direction of Bikey as I headed into my office. While not causing the controversy – or scoring the goals – of his partner Sonko this season, Bikey has really done a nice job in shutting down opposing target strikers. I am well satisfied with the quality and caliber of his play and I just wish I had more players with his quiet determination to succeed.

That also describes Ferreira, who, as he always does before a match, stuck his head into my office to see if he was on the teamsheet.

Of course he was – he’s a world-class fullback – but that knowledge seems to help him prepare. I simply nodded at him and wondered why he would need to ask the question.

I have favored Halls over him on a very few occasions this season where he has either played poorly in the match prior, or had played too much football in too short a time and needed rest. Right now, though, he’s the best I’ve got and he’s in there whenever he is fit to play.

He then headed back to the changing room to turn out for the game, every inch the professional. I admire that, and wonder if he might have been the best signing of the season. Since he came on a Bosman, I would imagine he probably is, though Maloney and his double-digit goal tally for the snip we paid to Aston Villa might run a close second in terms of value.

Dillon arrived moments later and the two of us went through our usual pre-match routine, going over the anticipated opposition and then going to meet the match officials to obtain the real opposition for the night.

Mark Hughes and I had no surprises for each other. As a result, Dillon and I had a short conversation when we returned to the coaches’ conclave at the stadium.

“Easy does it,” I reminded him. “Tired legs, but I think we can take this team if we play to our best.”

“Absolutely,” he answered. “Ready to talk to them?”

“I think so,” I replied, rising to my feet. “It’s time.”

# # #

tenthreeleader · August 27, 2009

We took the pitch to the Aaron Copeland classic “Fanfare for the Common Man”, which was both a way to fire up the stadium as well as to pay tribute to the blue-collar nature of the club. We would need a blue-collar effort today, without question.

The captains stood in the center circle as referee Howard Webb and his crew joked with each other, and then the players, before the match. The atmosphere was loose – relations between the clubs are pretty good and I shared a short word with Hughes before we kicked off.

I expected to see some tired legs from my players at the start of the match and that was exactly what I got. Coming off a road match, we were bound to be a bit sluggish and the calculated risk I took was that we would find our legs before we found ourselves chasing the match.

Blackburn had also played at the weekend, so the teams were in the same boat for the first few minutes. The match started out as two teams banging the ball long at each other while playing for a break. It wasn’t pretty, but I had hopes it would soon become improve.

As I’ve mentioned, Blackburn hasn’t been terribly careful in their own half of the pitch this season. We got a wonderful display of their cavalier attitude fourteen minutes into the match. Stephen Reid had the ball in his own half and was working toward the center of the park before a determined effort from Maloney forced him back.

Turning his back to the play, Reid elected to pass back to his keeper. He did so, but scuffed his clearance – and Dagoberto pounced.

He got to the ball first and before a mortified Reid could react, was in alone on Friedel. He rounded the American keeper and slotted home his sixteenth goal of the season to the joy of the crowd and the enmity of the visiting support.

It was a very opportunistic play and a nicely taken chance on top of it all. Sheepishly, Dagoberto went to congratulate Maloney, whose skill and grit had made it all happen through his relentless closing down of Reid.

For the Blackburn player, all Reid had for consolation was a long walk back toward the center circle, while trying to avoid the eyes of his teammates. Finally, Pedersen came over to him for a quiet word and a muss of his hair before play resumed.

The goal was a very nice spark for both teams. Play picked up quite nicely after that, with Rovers now chasing the game and my players sensing their good fortune. We wanted more, and of course some teams do tend to loosen up at the back when that happens.

Not so us, at least not right away. Maloney blazed over from twenty-five yards ten minutes after Dagoberto’s goal, but what I was happier to see was prolonged periods of possession from my team, which is about the best way I know of to keep the other team from scoring. Unless you’re a complete clot, the ball won’t wind up in your own goal. Though, in fairness, I have seen it happen this season – Derby did it in our rain-soaked encounter earlier this year.

But today was bright and sunny, leaving me little fear of conceding a bizarre own-goal. We were starting to take play to them quite nicely. Even Lita, usually non-existent when he’s in the starting eleven, was playing with some purpose and pluck right out of the chute. As a substitute, he has no peer in this league, but today we needed ninety good minutes from him and through the first half-hour he was clearly one-third of the way to the goal.

I pulled us out of our attacking bent to get us to halftime still a goal to the good, but every time I do that, it seems to cause anxiety. It’s almost to the point where I would consider throwing caution to the wind, so to speak. Caution occasionally kills us.

Today, caution definitely hurt us, as Santa Cruz rose confidently to head home from Gamst Pedersen’s cross six minutes before the interval. We pulled back, they came after us, and just like that their fans were singing “who put the ball in the Royals’ net?” in tribute to their scoring star.

I turned, red-faced, to Dillon.

“I will be a son of a …”

“Rob,” Dillon said, “you don’t defend. Nice and easy here, sport.”

“Like hell, Kevin,” I responded. “Once again, we’ve given up a lead late in the half. Don’t tell me I should be happy about that.”

He sat back on the bench, surprised at the ferocity of my comments. Usually he and I do not sharply disagree, but the idea that I should sit back and accept squandering another lead just before a break really rankled with me.

It also rankled with Sonko, who was beaten in the air by Santa Cruz for their goal. Watching him pace back and forth across his area of responsibility gave me the impression I was watching an angry lion stalking back and forth across his territory.

We got into first half injury time and picked up a corner thanks to a nice play from Kalou, who put a useful little chip into the box that Friedel tipped over the bar. Maloney went to do his job and powered an effort right into the middle of the six. Friedel went up to catch the ball away from his body.

He then lost out to Sonko, who came in nearly from out of nowhere to head the ball before the keeper could grab it out of the air. His header crashed home as the second minute of added time started and we were back in front.

His reaction was revealing – and so, in fact, was Dillon’s, who was up and yelling beside me in the technical area as we all celebrated doing to someone else what has been done to us with distressing regularity this season.

# # #

tenthreeleader · August 28, 2009

“Good, but half-done,” I had said in the halftime team talk. “You bounced back very well from the goal they scored and now it’s all up to you to bring this home.”

I wasn’t as angry as I might have been – though conceding late in the half galled me like it always does when it happens – but this time I decided to leave the message unsaid. The players know I hate it when we concede late so with the momentum going in our direction at halftime I saw no reason to stop any of it.

The result was a strong start to the second half. We got into their faces, which was also gratifying to see, as the players showed they were as serious as their manager about holding on to the lead they had worked so hard to earn.

I’ve come to appreciate Pazienza’s determination in this regard. As the lone holding midfielder, he has a fair amount to do in this alignment, and he takes it pretty personally when we concede a goal, especially to a non-forward. With the fluid offensive style we prefer, he’s often left behind to guard against the counter attacks that come after we play our style.

Now, though, with the team pulled into a closer 4-4-2 to hold on to a lead and inflict some counter-attacking damage of our own, he was in his glory. Two crunching tackles – one on Pedersen and a second on Steven Reid, showed he was there for a purpose. He was all over the place, and showing some of the best form of his season.

That form soon played a dramatic part in the rest of the match. He sailed in on Reid and hooked the ball away from him – with authority – and swept the ball into touch on 53 minutes.

Reid took exception to the strength of the tackle, which was perfectly legal, and saw a red haze as both players got up off the ground. Just like that, Reid chested up to Pazienza, who was in no mood to apologize for a fairly won challenge.

The two exchanged sharp words and as players from both teams gathered, Reid pushed Pazienza hard across the face with two hands. To his credit, my midfielder didn’t fall theatrically as so many players do who are treated in that fashion. In fact, it made me wonder, tongue in cheek, if he was really Italian. Yet, he had a point to prove.

He simply stood there. I thought he showed marvelous self-control. So Reid did it again.

By that time, referee Howard Webb was already on the scene and as the home crowd screamed bloody murder, the referee reached into his pocket to show the visitor a straight red card for violent conduct.

Pazienza hadn’t moved a muscle and had been pushed in the mush twice by a fairly rough customer. Reid had gotten no reaction at all, and as he headed toward the sideline he caught the eye of his manager. Mark Hughes was not a player known for backing down either when he played, but there was no doubt that Reid had done a foolish thing.

Now down to ten men and trailing by a goal, Rovers were vulnerable. I was determined to make them pay for Reid’s indiscretion by taking the play to them and playing football.

I swept my hands forward, and the players all knew what that meant. The beauty of this season so far is that I’ve made myself fairly easy to read from the touchline. The players know what will get them in trouble and also what will make the boss smile.

They all knew that a third goal would make the boss smile. So they worked hard to find one.

Faé was the catalyst, which was heartening. Four minutes after Reid’s dismissal, he shook loose down the right side of midfield and took the ball straight at the Rovers’ defense. It was the sort of aggressive play he ought to know that I love to see and I was happy to see him get it. Unfortunately, it’s our 31st match of the season which means it’s a tad late, but I can’t have everything I want.

Faé’s cross was inch-perfect and found the head of Lita, of all people. This time the starter made good, heading home for a 3-1 lead on 58 minutes and sending the crowd into a happy celebration. There’s no better way to defuse tension – or to build on emotion you already have – then to punish your opponent with a goal. We all knew it, and Lita’s first goal as a starter in calendar 2009 was the best way to prove it.

There were a couple of monkeys off respective backs at that point. Faé had made a meaningful offensive contribution and Lita had shown himself that he doesn’t need to be a substitute to score. Both mattered much.

Now in full defensive mode after conceding the third goal, Hughes had evidently decided that leaving Berkshire with his team’s skin still attached to its collective hide would be the best course of action. We poured forward and for long stretches of the second half, Blackburn had all ten of their remaining men behind the ball.

We picked up a few corner kicks in succession, with Kalou barely missing a fourth goal just ten minutes after Lita’s goal, but the ongoing pressure was starting to tell. Maloney then got a fourth corner a few minutes later, and this time it was the excellent Sonko, deciding he wanted to score on both sides of the interval, who made the crucial intervention.

Again, he sailed in on goal and again, he found the range from inside the six-yard box. His fourth goal of the season sealed the outcome beyond all doubt, and started the singing in the Madejski in a way we hadn’t heard in a long time.

Reading 4 (Dagoberto 16th, 14; Sonko 3rd 45+1, 4th 78; Lita 13th 58)

Blackburn 1 (Santa Cruz 15th, 39)

A – 23,927, Madejski Stadium, Reading

Man of the Match – Ibrahima Sonko, Reading (1st)

# # #

The place hadn’t been filled to capacity, but the fans really had a show anyway. It might have been the best all-around match we’ve played, and had it not been for Santa Cruz we’d have come out of things with a clean sheet.

I was in a bit of a hurry, though, to face the media. I looked at my e-mail through my mobile phone before I left and Patty had left me an unmistakable message: hurry up and get to the airport.

So I did. On the way, I listened to the radio for the day’s scores and got some more good news.

We leapfrogged Liverpool and back into fourth place, as they lost 2-0 to archrival Manchester United at Anfield. The total loss of the day had to be galling to the proud home team, but thanks to a brace from Wayne Rooney – which only added insult to injury due to his Everton upbringing – the home team was sunk with authority by the second-placed visitors.

However, Chelsea did as expected, crushing Charlton 4-0 behind a hat trick from Didier Drogba and a single goal from Giuseppi Rossi, holding the lead and closing in on claiming Liverpool’s championship.

Arsenal remains third, and put on the best offensive show of the day in a 5-2 thrashing of West Ham away from home. Emanuel Adebayor scored a hat-trick within the first 27 minutes of the match, with Eduardo and Robin van Persie finishing off the home team in the second half. Dean Ashton and Bobby Zamora responded for the Hammers but it was far too little, far too late. And that means more pressure on Curbishley.

Aston Villa stays sixth, right behind us, getting goals from Fabio Grosso, Ryan Taylor and Steven Defour to sink hapless Birmingham 3-1 away. Everton stays seventh, using Mikael Arteta’s goal to beat Manchester City 1-0 on a good day for the road teams.

And, there was another result that made the Bluenose in me smile. Rangers won at Morton by 3-1 to go top of the SPL while Celtic fell 2-1 to Dundee United. In all, a decent day.

As I arrived at the airport, and met my bride after clearing the pre-flight screening, I couldn’t help but think it was going to be an even better night.

# # #

tenthreeleader · August 29, 2009

Thursday, March 19

I woke up at 32,000 feet over the Atlantic Ocean. There was a blanket pulled over me, and I was delighted to find Patty snuggled close to me. She was awake too.

The British Airways 747 was well on the way toward our destination of Owen Roberts International Airport. Yet, as both a fairly light sleeper and a poor flyer, the plane’s slight bumping as we hit some sort of air pocket was enough to bring me to something approaching an awakened state.

“Shhh, honey,” Patty cooed, soothing me even though I was far from distressed. “Sleep easy.”

I looked over at her, cuddled close to me with the armrest between our seats folded down to allow a space for two. It was a surprisingly comfortable arrangement, as British Airways does long-distance flying better than just about anyone.

Underneath the blanket, Patty’s right hand brushed ever so gently back and forth across my chest. “I’m just looking at you,” she whispered, so as not to wake the other passengers flying in our first-class berth.

I smiled and wished there was a way I could kiss her and get away with it. Decorum prevailed, though, and I settled for a knowing and loving smile. “Well, look as much as you like,” I replied. “You’re stuck with me for a whole week.”

“I can use that,” she said. “Just promise me you’ll keep your Blackberry off for a couple hours a day so we can enjoy ourselves.”

Our eyes met again, and her green eyes fenced playfully with my blue. The lilt in her voice told me she was kidding. In the low light of the cabin, her teasing expression proved it. I could also see the first real look of peace I had seen on my wife’s face in far too long.

“I like this idea of flying with you,” I said. “One of us always seems to be flying in the opposite direction.”

“Not this time,” my wife said, stating the obvious. I didn’t mind a bit.

She stroked me back to sleep. The last things I recalled before fatigue overwhelmed me were an ever-so-soft kiss on my cheek and the sweet smell of her perfume.

# # #

tenthreeleader · August 30, 2009

“Honey, I could get used to this.”

The sound of Patty’s laughter rang out from the shower room of our beachfront villa. We were near the world-famous Seven Mile Beach, regarded by the people who keep track of such things as the most beautiful stretch of sand on Earth.

Our villa, like many of the buildings on Grand Cayman, is new. Hurricane Ivan, which went through this place just over four years ago, destroyed or damaged four out of every five buildings across this beautiful place.

“All you have to do is say you want to come on a shoot with me and you can get used to the good life,” she teased, stepping out of the shower wrapped in a fluffy white towel. I smiled at her, adoring my bride’s overpowering beauty from our cottage’s bay window.

“It’s tempting,” I said, smiling as I basked in the fast-receding glow of yesterday’s match. Obviously, there wasn’t a word about it in the local paper, and I gathered that most of the people who would be walking up and down the beach that day wouldn’t have the faintest idea who I was. That was more than all right with me.

However, they might well know Patty in a few days. That sort of celebrity is hard to shake. For now, though, we were comfortably nuzzled together in our little slice of heaven and it was time to enjoy the time we had.

Now she approached me, wiggling her hips in an exaggerated, playful way. She sat in my lap, holding the towel together at the top with her fingertips.

“Close those drapes and I’ll tempt you some more,” she cooed.

# # #

Seven Mile Beach, beautiful though it is, is not the place to go if you want to be alone.

Our evening walk tonight, watching the ocean from the shores of perhaps the most beautiful spot in the Caribbean, certainly proved that. The whole of Seven Mile Beach is publicly owned, so if an idyll was what we sought, it would have to be found in the villa.

Not that there was anything wrong with that. All around us we saw tourists simply enjoying themselves. Dogs ran freely up and down the beach, some of them chasing Frisbees thrown in front of their sprinting bodies, and the laughter of children could be heard from time to time as a stray wave knocked down one of the smaller forms playing at the water’s edge.

Yet, as we walked, I couldn’t keep my eyes off Patty – not that I would have tried. She was in her glory, and the transformation I saw simply amazed me. She wore a tasteful white bikini, covered by a light shawl over her shoulders to guard them from a coolish evening breeze.

She wore stylish beach shoes, which were certainly better suited to the occasion than my own choice, walking barefoot through the soft sand. She reached for my hand as we left the villa and struck a westerly course down that wonderful beach.

“Tell me, Rob, have you forgotten everything back in England?” she teased, squeezing my hand tightly as we walked.

“Where’s England, again?” I asked, looking over at her as she walked. She looked radiant, and I realized that I had somehow managed to stifle an important part of my wife’s character through all the time we had spent in Berkshire. I keep coming back to it, but it was like I was talking with an entirely different person.

An errantly thrown Frisbee then cracked me on the back of the head, punctuated by a too-late shout of ‘heads up!’ from its thrower. For just a moment, I tensed up, but the feeling was soon replaced by a giggle from Patty.

“Kiss it and make it better,” she laughed, as I returned the disc to its owners.

“Not here,” I smiled. “People would talk.”

“Well, then let’s get back to the villa and we can play doctor,” she promised. Clearly, she had a good reason for wanting to leave early on the trip, and she was more than keen to let me know what it was!

# # #

salkster2102 · August 30, 2009

6 posts and no comment. I'm sure that must be a record for this topic! Just shows how amazing this piece of work is 10-3.

tenthreeleader · August 31, 2009

Thanks, Salkster ... I appreciate the comments as always. I've noticed that it goes in streaks with this story. Right now Rob and Patty are having some down time so the plot is 'recharging' for the next round. Folks are reading, though, so that helps.

___

Monday, March 23

I should hope the reader will excuse my not writing for a few days. I’ve been concentrating on other things.

We fly back to England on Wednesday and the funny thing of it is, we haven’t heard a word from either of our families the whole time we’ve been down here.

Even Martin hasn’t said a word, and perhaps he has finally gotten the message. That would be very sad from Patty’s point of view, and to a lesser extent even from mine, but until he gets that message on an ongoing basis and keeps his nose out of our business, it’s really the only action we can take.

I got some bad news by e-mail yesterday – good for the players involved, but bad for me. When we next return to action, against Middlesbrough on Sunday, I’ll be without four important players.

Kalou, Faé, Sonko and Bikey are all called up to their national teams for World Cup qualifiers this weekend. Since they’re full international matches, I have nothing to say about it – but we now have to travel to the northeast without both my first-choice wing players and both my first-choice central defenders.

Charming. We’re going to be up against it. Boro, after their long slide from the top of the early-season table, is now fighting for its Premiership life, with Gareth Southgate under pressure and the team needing points. We’re going to face a desperate team without four of our top players and that won’t be easy.

This morning, as Patty lay curled up next to me in the villa, I tried to keep my thoughts away from the coming week. This is supposed to be vacation. But I see the end of that vacation – and really, my honeymoon with Patty – slipping away a lot faster than I would like. That sense of pressure isn’t fun.

She was patient while I e-mailed with Dillon this morning about how to set up the team for training in my absence for a few days. He will take training as he usually does, but with a good part of the senior squad scattered all over the globe for various World Cup midweek matches, he’s got a depleted squad to work with. We won’t be able to hit the game plan hard for Boro until I get back.

Shane Long, who as I’ve mentioned has been very patient in waiting for a game for us, scored a brace for the Republic of Ireland in a qualifier with Wales over the weekend, Lobont played for Romania in goal and beat Belarus, and Jonny Magallon played as a substitute for Mexico against Guatemala. He flew back this morning, and he may well go into the side – as a central defender – for Boro.

That would be a risk, but sooner or later Jonny will have to show he can get the job done. We need him – he’s a superior man-marker, positional player and distributor of the ball, which is why he was my first choice as the holding midfielder before his injury. We’re going to need someone who can do all those things when we play Boro.

Meanwhile, Michael Owen passed the immortal Sir Bobby Charlton by scoring his fiftieth goal for England as his brace helped the Three Lions beat Israel 4-0 at Wembley. They and Denmark have raced out to the early lead in UEFA Group 2, with the Danes leading early on goal difference.

Yet, shutting down the internet on my mobile phone brought a sense of relief. A very nice fruit breakfast was in front of me now, served by my contented wife.

“Ready to put that away now, Rob?” she asked.

“You bet,” I answered. “We’ve still got a couple of days left.”

# # #

mark wilson27 · August 31, 2009

Good win against Blackburn Tenthree, enjoying the story as ever and looking forward to more

tenthreeleader · September 1, 2009

Thank you, Mark! Things seem to be rolling a bit better for the boys at the moment.

___

Wednesday, March 25

It was like stepping into a pot of boiling water.

We got off the plane at Heathrow, tired from the long flight, and immediately we were right back into the pressure cooker.

“You look tan, Rob.”

“Hello, Stefano,” I said, not especially pleased to make the Italian’s acquaintance on this particular day. Patty’s pictorial had hit the style magazines the previous weekend and since we were far, far out of commission for the last week, no one had had the opportunity to bother either of us about it.

Until now, that is.

The pictures are, frankly, wonderful. I’m sure there are millions of other men around the world who now agree with my sentiment, because her picture wound up printed in a lot of places it wasn’t expected to be seen.

We talked about it on the flight back. This is the career she wanted for herself, so she’s ready to deal with that. She called Eaton yesterday, and as a result we were greeted by something we’ve never experienced before upon landing.

That would be security. We were allowed to traverse the concourse to our waiting vehicle with more peace than I’ve enjoyed with Patty in public in months. Even Emiliani had to run alongside the cordon to try to talk with me. I won’t say I minded that – I have said before that Stefano looks to be between fifty and a hundred laps of the pitch short of full fitness anyhow – but it did give me the chance to concentrate on my wife for a few more precious moments as we walked.

“If it has to be this way, I don’t mind the way this is going,” I smiled as we walked.

“Security does have its advantages,” Patty replied, reaching for my left hand while the handle of my carry-on baggage dug into the fingers of my right.

The heaviness of my carry-on baggage didn’t give me a pleasant sensation, and neither did the baggage that returning to England brought with it.

The thought of returning to the microscope that Premiership management and Patty’s celebrity have brought is a big part of it. Yet, it’s the lot I’ve chosen and it’s time to get on with it. On the way to the car, I was already thinking about how in the heck I’m going to get three points out of Middlesbrough without four of my key players even on the same continent.

We walked together, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

# # #

Offspring8 · September 1, 2009

The season is drawing to a close and you're still on course for a European-position finish. Excellent season so far, here's to hoping that you finish off strongly still amazing work 10-3, keep it going

Kryston · September 2, 2009

It sure is interesting to see the names of Andre Bikey and Ibrahima Sonko mentioned so illustriously here while in real life they are dabbling with muddy waters in the lower end of the Premier League now.

Bikey had made a great transition coming in for Burnley while Sonko just signed for ailing Hull City.

Avid followers of the Premier League might see both of them on regular basis.

Another highly-rated Rob's Rat Pack, red headed Dave Kitson is settling well at Stoke as well

tenthreeleader · September 2, 2009

Offspring, thanks for the good wishes! Kryston, I've mentioned words to this effect before but I think Reading is an ideal team to play in the EPL in the FM 2008 save if you don't want to play a Big Four team. The players are generally well rated due to their overachieving season in 2007 and the AI made some pretty good moves to duplicate that finish while Rob was at Padova. He inherited a good situation with money in the bank. However, what he has noticed this season is that Bikey and Sonko, while they have ratings quite far above their actual level of ability, still have dangerous deficiencies in partnership. This team succeeds because at the moment, it can score more goals than it ships through poor defensive play.

___

“Adrian, it’s good to hear from you. How are things going?”

Patty leaned back in a large wicker chair on our back deck, her mobile phone tucked against her ear. She was rolled up in a ball in the chair despite the warmth of the day, and the confidence in her voice certainly didn’t match her body language.

“Well, they’re going as well as can be expected,” the attorney answered. Sitting in his spacious office in Los Angeles, Patty supposed he could be expected to say such things. “Notice was served while you were in the Caymans and the reaction has been what we thought it would be.”

“Which is?”

“He’s threatening a countersuit against you and Rob,” Levant replied.

Patty frowned. “I guess I don’t like the sound of that,” she sighed. “What is it this time?”

“Peter McGuire is threatening a defamation action,” he said, shuffling through a sheaf of papers on his desk. “Intentional infliction of emotional distress.”

“Oh, please,” Patty sighed. “I hope that wouldn’t last long in a court.”

“I don’t think it would,” Levant replied. “However, it is fair to say that your father seems to have had some sense shaken into him over all this. He called the day after everything was filed to say he didn’t want any trouble.”

At that, a tear raced down Patty’s cheek. I’ve had things on my mind – the things she’s had on her mind include the intentional destruction of her own family. That has obviously been very difficult for her.

“I don’t even know what to say,” she said, sniffling as she wiped away the tear.

“Patty, you need to look at it this way,” the attorney said. “If you hadn’t done this, the behavior would have continued. You wouldn’t have been able to stop it, and who knows what this McGuire idiot might have done to you – or tried to do to you.”

“I know,” she replied, trying to compose herself. “But my own father…”

“…worked with him to figure out where you were and how to get to you,” Levant reminded her. “I know it hurts, I know it’s painful, but now it’s going to be over. We’ll deal with this McGuire fellow in time, and he’s not going to bother you anymore.”

“How much does Rob know about the contact I had with Peter in Los Angeles?” Patty asked.

“I don’t think he knows a whole lot, if anything,” Levant replied. “And even if he does, soon it won’t matter.”

# # #

BenCraig7 · September 3, 2009

back again 10-3, been working on a few things after feeling inspired by your story let me know what you think any ideas?

http://img3.imageshack.us/img3/8341/ratpack.png

viperk1 · September 3, 2009

Another brilliant post, 10-3!

BenCraig - that looks like a good cover, but it's Ridgway, not Ridgeway (I fell into that trap some time ago )

BenCraig7 · September 3, 2009

Another brilliant post, 10-3!
BenCraig - that looks like a good cover, but it's Ridgway, not Ridgeway (I fell into that trap some time ago )

fixed version - http://img193.imageshack.us/img193/8341/ratpack.png

the back cover- http://img215.imageshack.us/img215/6403/ratpackback.png

sorry bored at work

tenthreeleader · September 3, 2009

Viper, thanks for the kind words! The subplot is starting to heat up again ... and Ben, thank you very much for what you did! I've got new wallpaper now I'm flattered and honored that you'd post something like that for this story. Gotta ask, though ... how'd you do it? Photoshop?

___

Thursday, March 26

Beside me, Patty tossed and turned in bed. Her sleeplessness caused me to drift in and out of sleep for most of the night.

With our flight to the northeast leaving this evening, I was hoping for a little more rest than I got, but finally it seemed that there was nothing else to do.

I rolled over, touched Patty’s arm softly and whispered into her ear.

“Nightmare?” I asked.

“You might say that,” she answered. “Just hold me, Rob. That’s what I need now.”

# # #

She spent a quiet morning, before I left for training. She was on the phone with Eaton, who was crowing about the reaction to the pictures from the beach shoot.

“You will have some opportunities headed your way,” he said. “Just this morning I’ve had enquiries from three more publications. If you do this properly, you’ll be able to write your own ticket.”

She now greeted these words with apprehension. She thanked Eaton for calling, and then hung up the phone.

“Ever have the feeling you’ve bit off more than you can chew, Rob?” she asked, as I ate my breakfast.

“Every day, babe,” I smiled. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, it’s not so much the shoot as what might happen if I do another one,” she answered. “The reaction is great and I’ve got the potential to make a whole lot of money. That’s great for us and it’s great for our family. But right now I’m wondering if more exposure is a good idea.”

“What are you worried about?” I asked. “Levant has McGuire on the run, your dad is going to come to his senses pretty soon and realize I’m going to look after you, so what’s the problem?”

She blurted it out, and stunned me at the same time. “Levant doesn’t have Peter on the run,” she said. “When I was in California, he found me.”

My blood ran cold and a knot formed in my stomach. It seemed to be made completely of anger, since the knot hadn’t existed even a few moments before.

“Patty, why on earth didn’t you tell me this?” My face flushed in fury and I could feel my temperature rising under the collar of my shirt. “What kept you from telling me this?”

“It’s why I had to file the suit,” she said. “Rob, you couldn’t know. You’d have freaked out – in fact, I hope you don’t have that kind of reaction right now.”

“What might tip you off?” I asked, my eyes now narrowing into little slits from which even light wouldn’t escape, on the off chance it would have tried. “He found you in California – weeks ago – and you didn’t think that was important enough to tell me? Even during a week alone with me in a beach house in the Caymans? Never crossed your mind?”

“Rob, please,” Patty said, hanging her head in embarrassment, shame, and now with worry. “I need you to understand and I need you to support me. He didn’t do anything to me, at least not physically, and you need to know that.”

“What else don’t I know that I ought to know?” I asked. This day was already starting out to be a disaster.

# # #

BenCraig7 · September 4, 2009

Viper, thanks for the kind words! The subplot is starting to heat up again ... and Ben, thank you very much for what you did! I've got new wallpaper now I'm flattered and honored that you'd post something like that for this story. Gotta ask, though ... how'd you do it? Photoshop?
Yeh in photoshop, its fine the story is really good and deserves it.

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