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Rob Ridgway's "Rat Pack"


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Ben, again, I appreciate your effort. I got a big kick out of it and the cover is in fact now my computer wallpaper. Thanks!

___

Then I had a nice, long flight to the northeast to think about it all.

I tried to concentrate on my teamsheet – we’re more or less healthy for this game but the fact that we’re missing so many of our better players due to the World Cup qualifiers really worries me.

Yesterday, Chelsea beat Newcastle 1-0 just a few miles up the road from our destination and it’s a virtual certainly we won’t catch them. They’re now eight points clear of us and level on games played. Not that we were going to challenge anyway, but considering they took four points of six from us and we lost five points of six to them, we’d be a lot closer to where we want to be if we could have done the business in either of our matches. Obviously, though, our reach exceeded our grasp this season in those terms.

Also yesterday, Portsmouth nearly lost a 3-0 lead at home to Everton, as Jermain Defoe, Sully Ali Muntari and Hugo Viana staked Pompey to a bit lead that Andrew Johnson and Mikael Arteta nearly hauled back away from home. They couldn’t, though, and that leads me to wonder whether David Moyes’ side is ‘living up to its full potential’. Justice is sweet sometimes.

And West Brom finally beat somebody. Unfortunately for the losing team, it was Cardiff, which is probably wondering if it will win another game this season. Craig Beattie and Robert Koren netted for the Baggies, who have pulled within five points of Middlebrough and safety with a match in hand.

But as our plane winged its way toward the northeast, that particular concern was the last thing on my mind. While turning over the team sheet again and again in my mind, I kept thinking about the lowlife named Peter McGuire once again in close contact with my wife. How close a contact, nobody but Patty knows – and for now, she isn’t telling me.

So I tried to figure out what on earth I could possibly say to her as the plane started its final approach before landing. Or should I leave well enough alone?

I know that if I ever see McGuire again, I won’t leave well enough alone, and there might not be a court in the land which would convict me.

I hope I never have to find out, but just in case, I plan to be prepared.

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Friday, March 27

We’re in the northeast a day ahead of schedule this time. It’s an important match and the decision was made for us to move a day early so as to have a little more time to acclimate before the big match on Sunday afternoon.

We’re watching Liverpool closely tomorrow. They are away to Aston Villa, and the big story there is the controversy surrounding the young and talented Gabriel Agbonhalor.

The England u-21 international is ready for a new contract, having broken through into the first-team lineup on a regular basis this season. He’s impressive, he can finish and perhaps most important of all, he’s quick as lightning.

He is on my ‘shortlist’ of players I wouldn’t mind swooping for if I ever found the money, but the fact of the matter is that I have other priorities. I will be shopping for defenders first this summer.

The national papers have been abuzz this week about Agbonlahor’s demands for a new deal and Martin O’Neill’s equally adamant refusal to give him one. That sort of discord isn’t generally encouraged at a club at this point in the season, but Aston Villa’s early challenge has fallen flat and right now everyone seems to be looking ahead to next season in that part of the country.

It’s a distraction, and as Villa prepare to face the team locked in a struggle with us for the Champions League, it’s not one that anyone outside of the stadium will appreciate. The player himself is supremely confident of his own abilities and O’Neill has had to admit that due to his form he will have to consider giving him a place in the eleven for the match despite the controversy.

The best way for a player to get what he wants is to get out there and do the business. Agbonlahor is talented enough to force his way into most sides in this league and O’Neill knows it. So he’s got a decision to make.

Meanwhile, we’re going to be watching that match tomorrow even as we have a light round to training to prepare for our own match. For us, Liverpool dropping points would be fantastic – we’ll have the match in hand after tomorrow but that will change quickly the longer Liverpool stays in the Champions League. From our own point of view, we’d like that to be awhile, but not for too long.

Of course, Liverpool themselves are the reason for this. In 2004-05, Liverpool won the Champions League but did not finish in the top four of the Premierhip and so could not defend their title. At least in theory.

As holders, though, they were given a special dispensation by UEFA which allowed them to defend their title through the qualifying phases. Under the rules then present in the competition, the English FA had the authority to grant the holders a spot in the 2005-06 Champions League at the expense of the fourth-placed team. The fact that the fourth-placed team in the league that season was Everton wasn’t lost on anyone.

So, into the Champions League Liverpool went, and into the UEFA Cup Everton eventually went, after falling in the third qualifying round of the Champions League. Now we may find ourselves in the same position.

If we qualify, obviously that would drop at least one member of the “Big Four” into the UEFA Cup as a matter of course next season. That sort of economic difficulty might make things interesting in the league – if only we can make it happen.

For now, though, any thought of that sort of season next year has to be put on hold because of the match we face on Sunday. Defeating Middlesbrough, and their under-fire manager Gareth Southgate, would certainly help our cause.

For me, the best part of the day was that I was about as far away from the London-based media as I could get and still stay in the country. Their absence bothered me not at all, even if I did have extended discussions with our friends from the northeast media concerning the job status of Southgate.

My friend Copper Horse, for whom things are now going much better at Blyth, was also on my list of people to visit. As someone who understands the pressures I face perhaps better than anyone in England, his advice and above all his taste in Newcastle ale has helped matters considerably.

I invited Copper and his wife Robin to the Reading base of operations – to use a non-James Bond term, our hotel – for dinner and drinks with the Reading staff.

Copper’s fame has preceded him. Before long, an animated conversation was taking place between the Blyth contingent and members of my staff on matters concerning football. Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves, and that gave me a little time to check my mobile phone.

There was a message from Patty on it. I opened the note and read:

“Rob, I didn’t mean to worry you about Peter. You should know that I despise him just as much as you do. But the thing I need to get over is the reaction you have every time his name is mentioned. It’s like you don’t trust me. I know you do, but right now I can picture what you’re doing – sitting up and brooding – and it bothers me. Tell me you aren’t doing that. Love, me.”
So I asked Copper to take a picture of our group sitting around the hotel bar having a nightcap. I sent it to Patty and she immediately replied.

“Well, so much for that thought!”

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Your not wrong Salkster. Liverpool had to go from the 1st qualifying round, and weren't seeded either, hence how they ended up in the same group as Chelsea that season.

Everton were knocked out in the 3rd qualifying round, and therefore went in to the UEFA Cup.

As for the story 10-3, seriously compelling. Before i go to work every morning, i check for new installments in the Rat Pack saga. KUTGW

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Well, gents, I made a basic factual error -- thank you for catching it. Sometimes being human isn't any fun. :(

___

Saturday, March 28

I had a chance to watch the matches on television today with Copper. That was a lot of fun. Yet my friend seems preoccupied, and that concerns me a little bit.

His passion for the game is astounding. He has a special love for teams from the Northeast, which isn’t surprising given Blyth’s location. And he’s had to be a bit of a neutral about the match tomorrow since Boro is of course Blyth’s parent club.

Watching the television with him was really an experience. He does know his stuff, and his number one pet peeve appears to be players – and individuals – who don’t share his passion. He seems to be different than he was the last time I saw him, and I can’t put my finger on the difference.

In fact, there were times when that passion seemed to intrude upon the person I got to know a bit the last time I was here. His judgments were sharp, sometimes brutally so, about players who were longtimers in the league.

He has come a long way. Blyth’s miserable losing streak is a thing of the past now and he has them playing a lot better. So well, in fact, that he’s starting to take revenge against some of the people who have tormented him during his time in the northeast.

As the old saying goes, the older you get, two things get more and more important; a good trip to the bathroom and the chance to say ‘I told you so’, You shouldn’t miss the chance to do either one.

So listening to Copper, it was plain that he was on top of his game and perhaps even approaching the peak of his powers. He knew it all, and our staff let him expound. Perhaps it was the Newcastle we were all enjoying, and I don’t mean the football team.

We watched Villa and Liverpool today, a match of no small importance to us, and we heard an earful from my countryman on the relative merits of the two teams, especially Agbonlahor.

His contract dispute has been news around the league, and O’Neill’s refusal to negotiate a story of equal size. Yet, with fifteen minute to play, there he was, a substitute for John Carew on the Villa Park pitch with his team trailing by a goal.

“If he was Leroy Lita, he’d score,” Copper said. “You have to show you can get a job done before you ask for the money he’s asking.”

Then he went down the line – offering opinions on a lot of different subjects, including my own club. That started to cause some discomfort among our assistants, but I gave a quick look to Dillon that indicated it was okay. He gave me a look of understanding in reply and we moved on.

All the talk definitely raised some eyebrows, and we put it down to a Newcastle or two too many on all of our parts, but eventually that led to a general discussion on our impact substitute, who is a big reason we’re in the European places. His hat trick as a substitute was just about the sole reason we took three points off Spurs.

I was just spreading the word around the room about what Leroy has meant to us when a cheer from the faithful jerked everyone’s attention back to the screen, where Agbonlahor was wheeling away from the goal after equalizing eight minutes from time.

In such circumstances – and I’ve seen my share of them when a player seeking a new contract does something profound – players react in different ways. To his credit, Agbonlahor didn’t make any motions like he was writing out a check, do anything to otherwise inflame supporters. So when the camera cut to O’Neill standing on the sidelines, Gabriel had made his point without saying a word. He had made his point to all of us, actually.

The match ended 1-1, and the advantage in the hunt for fourth place passed to us. They passed us on goal difference, but heading into tomorrow’s match against 17th placed Boro, we have a match in hand. If we can do the job away from home, things will definitely look a shade brighter for us.

If, that is, we can do the job against a team fighting with all its strength to avoid relegation. It won’t be easy.

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I then headed back to the room for an afternoon nap. While I did, Copper searched out Dillon for a little more conversation.

“What was that look about that you two shared?” he asked.

“Well, Copper, we spend a lot of time around our players as you do around yours. Some of your opinions about us were a little bit frank. If I’m honest, it made us uneasy.”

Kevin was trying to be diplomatic, but Copper would have none of it. “Don’t I get an opinion?” he asked. “Among friends?”

“Of course you do,” he answered. “We take criticism all the time.”

“I saw it in Rob’s look,” Copper said. “He was going to let the little man have his say. He’s big enough to take a few insults, right, the great Rob Ridgway?”

“Copper,” Dillon replied, “no one suggested that. Let’s end the evening on a positive note, and start fresh in the morning.”

“I’m suggesting that, and I’m not ready to stop talking,” he replied. “I saw the look. It was condescending and rude.”

“Well, I’ll tell him you said so,” my deputy answered.

“I don’t care if you do,” Copper replied. “It won’t matter to him.”

Now Dillon squinted as he locked eyes with our visitor. “I think you’re wrong,” he said. “You won’t, but I do. Rob’s a good man and he wanted to have you here as his guest because he wanted to see you.”

“Sorry,” Copper said, turning his back to Dillon on his way out the door. He turned back one last time and tossed another barb over his shoulder. “He’s in my part of the country now. I don’t buy it.”

“Tell Glory Boy good luck tomorrow,” he said. Then he was gone.

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Bugger. I guess I'm now in the same position as many of the followers of this enthralling story. I've finally caught up with the last post and will have to wait for the updates.

I've only recently found the stories part of the FM site and i'm mighty glad I did. I'm a long time player of the CM / FM games having played and owned every one since their conception.

This is a truely wonderful story, incredibly well written and it is a great testiment to you, 10-3, that so many people follow it and enjoy it. I wish that my own personal life allowed me the time to be able to write my own FM story. Although i sincerely doubt that i would get to any where near the incredibly high bar you have now set.

Although this is based around a football management simulation game, the story that accompanies it is nothing short of fantastic. My hat is well and truely doffed to you sir. Well done.

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Jamcee, welcome to the Rat Pack and thank you for giving your first post to this thread. I appreciate it! I should say, with regard to my personal situation, that writing is both my hobby and my passion. I spend a fair amount of time on my stories.

However, I do have something in common with perhaps the greatest writer ever to grace these forums, Peacemaker7 -- we both write in 'stream of consciousness' format. That is to say, about ninety percent of what you have read in these pages has been written as it comes to my head, and is then polished for posting. The exceptions to this are areas where I have done background work and research. So, I am able to produce volume (or, 'work rate' in the game terms!) in less time than I otherwise might spend.

Still, it is very much a labor of love for me. I appreciate your kind words and I'm really glad you have persevered through the entire text!

___

Meanwhile, West Brom is starting to put the pressure on Boro in their own effort to avoid the drop, beating Blackburn 4-2 at Ewood Park in a fine road performance.

It was also reported after the match at Derby this afternoon that Alan Pardew is officially on the hot seat after Charlton fell 4-2 to the Rams. They’re now only three points out of the drop zone and The Valley's denizens are starting to get a little nervous. They like life in the top flight, and aren’t in any great hurry to leave.

Meanwhile, I’m sure there are very few tears being shed in Berkshire about this development. Pardew’s persona non grata status will be in effect at the Madejski Stadium for some time to come. At least this time, media had the sense not to link me to that position. Nothing against Charlton, mind you, but to be linked so closely when Pardew is in the job would be, shall we say, unhelpful.

# # #

Just before bed, I got a call from Sir John.

“On Monday, please come to the chairman’s office directly,” he said. “I want to sit down with you and Sidney and thrash out the differences you have had with him. I want this done in front of me.”

“Before the board meeting?” I asked.

“Yes, before the board meeting, Rob,” he answered. “I don’t want Sidney hammering away at some shortcoming he sees. There’s too much at stake right now to run the risk of anything causing a split in the board or a split in our fan base.”

“You mean he’s got friends?” I asked.

“He does, yes.” Sir John didn’t sound amused. “At the same time, I do want it known that I am the owner of this club and I believe the community at large understands this. I have hired consultants to refresh the club’s image, because the way the table has worked out to this point it does appear we’ll have European football for the first time next season. You are a vital part of that, Rob, and I want my entire team here and on board when we play big matches next fall.”

I understood, of course.

“Sidney is also a fan, so he has expectations beyond his seat on the board. The issue for him is to learn to separate the fan from the executive. You can never do it completely, of course, and I’d never wish for him to abandon his love for club, but he does need to understand that there is a line that he has crossed.”

“And my own conduct?” I asked.

“I do wish you’d not be quite so controversial at times,” he said, with a hint of a lilt in his voice. “But we need you to win matches for this club and so far you have vindicated the faith I showed in you when I brought you here from Italy.”

He was leaving me in no doubt as to exactly who my benefactor was. I had no problem with that. It is up to me to make it work with Richmond and anyone else Sir John chooses to bring in.

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Nice shout out for PM7. 24 awards is definitely a legendary feat. Too bad about the morons though...but I'm glad he's back on the forum posting away two more stories simultaneously. Of course, your similar to him in that regard too. Not to mention, was he ever a mod?

This story continues to set the bar this year on the forum. If you don't win Story of the Year for this, it will be almost as shocking as Newcastle getting relegated last season....

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This story continues to set the bar this year on the forum. If you don't win Story of the Year for this, it will be almost as shocking as Newcastle getting relegated last season....

That wasn't THAT shocking though.....;)

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Thanks, gentlemen ... Dan, you never know what is going on in the board room until someone tells you or the press leaks it :) .. Copper, thank you for your kind words. I think the best part of the season is yet to come.

___

Sunday, March 29

Middlesbrough (8-3-20, 17th place) v Reading (16-12-3, 4th place) – EPL Match Day #32

Late last night, Dillon called my room and asked to see me. He was deeply troubled by Copper’s words and actions yesterday and he had to vent. So, I had one more meeting before I headed off to bed.

“He wasn’t good,” Dillon said, as he sat at the small guest table in my room. “He’s got some issues with your position, I think. And I think he had had a couple too many Newcastles.”

“I can’t believe it,” I finally replied, after Dillon had repeated Copper’s litany. “He really said those things?”

“Rob, why would I lie to you?” he answered. “He kept me after we finished our drinks for ten minutes or so and really unloaded on you. It wasn’t pleasant to listen to.”

I shook my head. The first visit had gone so well, and he had been quite a genial host at Blyth when I came to see his team play. Something had obviously gone horribly wrong and just as obviously, there was nothing I could say or do to help.

One American had turned on another. There aren’t that many of us over here to begin with, and it isn’t good for the whole idea of peace in the family to have a public spat.

“I wonder who else he’s talked to,” I mused.

“No idea, but if he’s done it using those words, someone in the press is bound to pick up on it,” Dillon answered.

“I don’t know,” I said, sighing heavily. Absently, I doodled on a piece of legal paper where I was writing a few last notes on the team for the match. “I’ve been through enough with media, and Patty’s been through enough with media, to sense when something is coming. Right now I don’t have that feeling – and that’s a bit unusual.”

“Well, I certainly hope you’re right,” Dillon said, rising to leave. “But I thought you’d better know. He all but told me to come up and tell these things to you.”

“I’m glad you did,” I answered. “Even if I don’t like the news.”

I hate the thought of shaking Copper’s dust off my shoes, but if that’s the way he wants it, then that’s the way he’ll have it.

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I enjoy trips to the Northeast as a rule. Some people don’t, because they don’t care for the weather, but of late the opponents here have given me a good opportunity to win football matches. So why wouldn’t I want to come here?

I’m kidding. Well, perhaps a little. I really don’t care much for cold and ugly weather, but today was a nice day. And I was optimistic for a change, despite the events of last night.

And, the Riverside was in fine shape to host an early spring match. The stadium itself is historic, if new, for no other reason than it was the first facility in England built to comply with the findings of the Taylor Report.

The Riverside was built to replace the grand old Ayresome Park, home to Boro for over ninety years and home to group matches in the 1966 World Cup.

The place is modern, very much like the Madejski in that respect, and the team that plays here is often as sturdy as the construction of its new home.

The Riverside was abuzz with anticipation as the teams took the pitch today. Despite their club’s industry, the Smoggies’ beloved Boro has been sliding. Walking alongside Gareth Southgate on our way to the benches, I could see the strain on his face.

Middlesbrough had lost twenty games out of thirty-one in the league entering play – while we had lost only three. It was good for a thirteen place difference in the table between our clubs, and while I’m worrying about keeping my players’ feet on the ground to get them into Europe, Gareth is trying to get his players’ chins off the ground so they don’t wind up in the Championship.

Through it all, though, the Boro fans have been good. Today, they were loud and supportive. Famously, one supporter once rushed onto the pitch when Steve McClaren managed the side and ripped up his season pass in front of the manager during a bad run of form, but Southgate hasn’t had a lot of that sort of reaction even as his team has fallen inexorably down the table.

Southgate is an important figure at this club, which I’m sure gives him more leeway than he might otherwise have. Hired without the UEFA Pro License, he has nonetheless devoted himself to acquiring it and has been as diligent at learning his craft as anyone.

I look at Gareth both as a peer and as an example of poor planning. I studied for my badges – as did many young managers – while still an active player, and did whatever I needed to do to make sure the Pro License was in my pocket as soon as possible. He didn’t do that, and a number of other managers in this league didn’t either before they were hired.

We shook hands and headed to our respective benches to begin the match. My guys were jumping around, champing at the bit to get started and keep the pressure on the leaders. The warmup was good, our focus looked to be excellent, and for once I felt really good starting the match.

Which is why it was a bit of a comedown to see Lobont fishing the ball out of his goal with only five minutes on the clock, courtesy of a powerful strike from Darren Bent. We had kept the ball in their end for the entire match to that point and the strike came on their first counterattack of the match.

It was annoyingly simple. Bent took advantage of the fact I had two new central defenders in the lineup by simply running between them. Neither Gaspari nor Magallón picked him up and Lobont had no chance on the strike. Not for the first time, I rued the fact that four of my top players were somewhere in Africa playing World Cup qualifiers instead of here in the Northeast playing for me.

I looked down at a crumpled copy of the team sheet I still held in my now-clenched fist. Lobont, Ferreira, Pogatetz, Magallón, Gaspari, Pazienza, Oster, Hunt, Maloney, Kitson, Dagoberto, I read, wishing the names Sonko, Bikey, Kalou and Faé could somehow magically appear. It was a schoolboy goal to concede and now we faced an uphill task.

To our credit, though, we didn’t fold. The players came back strongly, and five minutes after Bent’s opener, Oster came close with a very nice cross from the right that Kitson nodded just over for a goal kick.

It was a flowing move, the kind we make when we’re running and moving well, so I felt pretty good about the turn of events. Boro still hadn’t had meaningful possession outside of Bent’s goal. As the minutes of the first half wore on, we made sure they didn’t gain that meaningful possession.

Our parade marched inexorably toward the Boro goal. First it was Kitson, then Dagoberto, then, of all people, Pogatetz. He came close with a raking cross from the left that was too far ahead of Kitson and instead forced a save from Mark Schwarzer.

I liked our movement on and off the ball, I liked the chances we were generating and I knew it was only a matter of time before we came good. It was really going well.

The onslaught continued, with Schwarzer forced into a double save from both my strikers on 41 minutes where we got two shots on target within seconds of each other and the keeper had the answers both times, first at feet from Dagoberto and then palming Kitson’s follow-up drive around the post at full stretch while lying on the ground.

We were starting to look a little frustrated by the time the whistle blew for halftime and it was indeed an exasperated bunch of men who looked to me for inspiration.

I wasn’t slow in giving it. “You were clearly the better side in the first half except for the one mistake which will kill you every time,” I said. Gaspari looked at Magallón and you didn’t need to speak either Italian or Spanish to understand the look of mutual shame they shared.

“No yelling, no recriminations,” I urged. “Now is the time to go out there and simply put things right. I have every confidence in your ability to do this and I am quite certain that you’ll go out there and get this job done. You should be ahead, but you aren’t. So go out there and fix it. No changes – just work the plan and let’s get points out of here today. When you do, they will be points you deserve.”

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I really had never been so sure of a result before. We took the pitch in the second half and were just as good as we were in the first. The half started strongly, we commanded the ball, bossed the midfield, and dictated the tempo in a way I hadn’t seen us do since the best parts of the Liverpool replay in the FA Cup. We were good.

Actually, aside from the mistake in the first half that showed the gulf – literal as well as qualitative – between our central defenders, we weren’t bothered. Even though our wing play with Hunt and Oster wasn’t up to our usual standard, it hardly mattered because we were moving the ball through the center of the park almost at will.

They couldn’t live with us in the central midfield. It was probably the most effective match I had seen yet in terms of partnership between Pazienza and Maloney. The understanding was really something to see. Shaun’s positional play to help Pazienza and his movement off the ball to give the holder an additional distribution outlet was something I had been badgering him to provide ever since the Italian arrived on loan last fall.

Maloney was nearly a box-to-box midfielder, a quality he had been lacking in previous matches, that not coincidentally had seen his scoring totals drop off. Now he seemed determined to put it right, coming deep for the ball to help the attack and making himself useful off the ball when Pazienza had it.

I turned to Dillon, who had a bit of a surprised expression on his face. “Where’s that game been, Kevin?” I asked quietly, as my deputy approached just off the bench.

“Damned if I know,” he remarked. “I know he’s the best we’ve got, but when he’s like that I think he’s a match-winner.”

Just then Maloney looked over and saw his coaches looking back at him. He gave a grin to the bench, tapped his forehead a couple of times to indicate he ‘got it’, and got back to his job. Immediately, we swung back into attack, with Maloney acting as the fulcrum of a wonderful little wall pass with Oster on the right side of midfield. Now the second-choice winger was flying down the right, looking up to cross and finding three willing takers at various points near the Boro box.

One of them was Maloney, at full stride and shouting for the ball. So Oster gave it to him, with a skillful cutback that the raider took, again in full stride, at the top of the eighteen.

He shot in one motion and it was a thing of beauty. The ball flashed toward the net, out of Schwarzer’s despairing reach – and crashed furiously against the crossbar and straight back into play. The Boro defense immediately cleared it into touch, and now was the real test for my mercurial Scotsman.

When things don’t go well, Maloney has been known to hang his head. But he had just made a brilliant play and I didn’t want him to lose that edge.

He just grinned and ran back up the pitch. There would be more to come. Lita, for his part, was now up and running, as the match had passed the hour mark with us trailing. I was ready to make the move, and as our supersub jogged onto the pitch, I still felt very good about our chances.

# # #

Even the tannoy announcer could sense it.

There was a bit of trepidation in his voice as he announced, “For Reading, replacing Dave Kitson, number nine, Leroy Lita.”

There were twenty-six minutes still to play and as well as we were playing, I had failed to note one important fact about our overall game; we hadn’t had a shot on target in the entire second half. For all the ball movement and creativity we were showing, we were getting a sum total of zilch on target. That realization started to dawn on me the more often I glanced up to see that big old goose egg on our side of the scoreboard.

The players didn’t seem too badly bothered by developments, though, and their calm was starting to unnerve the Boro bench. Southgate had been pacing his touchline for the entire second half, right opposite me, sometimes in mirror image. That in itself was a bit annoying, but here was a man fighting for his job and I wasn’t about to say anything.

Lita picked up a loose ball twenty-five yards out from goal, put a wonderful head fake on his man and took the ball straight to goal. His drive went over the top and I looked up at the clock. It read eighty minutes and now I was getting worried.

So were the players, in fact. The inevitable switch to our 4-3-3 ‘flood’ package, which allows Maloney to reprise his successful raider role as in our 4-1-3-2, was now in full flow with Lita man-marking the keeper as best he could while still trying to stay onside.

Our self-assurance was gone, replaced by a sense of urgency that was equally welcome but unfortunate in the sense that we could see the Champions League passing right before our eyes. Boro put ten men behind the ball and finally all eleven. There was no way back.

The self-assurance was gone, replaced by a sting that may well take years to heal. Copper was presumably pleased -– the ‘Glory Boy’ had gone down to an ignoble defeat.

It was an expensive setback. There is no other way to say it.

Middlesbrough 1 (Darren Bent 6th, 5)

Reading 0

A - 24,085, The Riverside, Middlesbrough

Man of the Match – Darren Bent, Middlesbrough

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ashton, welcome to the Rat Pack! I appreciate your taking the time to read everything to this point ... it's now quite an undertaking!

___

I shook hands with Southgate, who tried and failed to suppress an understandable smile, and I fought off an equally understandable wave of nausea as I headed toward the changing rooms.

For 89 minutes we had clearly been the better side, but we didn’t do two things; first, we didn’t shut off Route One when it mattered the most and second, we stopped applying ourselves in front of goal.

The players sat, stunned. I faced a difficult choice here; lay into them for losing or remind them of what had gotten them this far?

I chose the latter. “That’s definitely three points lost, gentlemen,” I said. “No one in these colors is going to be happy about that. You have got to get the job done in front of goal at this level – no excuses. This is a cruel league if you don’t do that and the 17th placed team in the table just reminded you how much it can hurt.”

Looks of disbelief were now starting to show on the faces of my players – looks I want to preserve.

“I like what I’m seeing right now,” I admitted. “This team is not accustomed to losing anymore and when it happens, this is what I want to see. This is the feeling I want you to remember – hell, it’s the feeling we have to remember – next weekend when we play Derby. We have to hope for help now to keep our league position. We may get it, but you have to remember that there’s still plenty of time left to do what we want to do. You played well enough to win today except for the two areas I mentioned – which were unfortunately enough to get us beat. Now let’s get to the post-match stuff and get out of here.”

I then headed off to face the media. That was not a pleasant experience either, but when you lose, nothing is ever fun.

# # #

“Central Scandinavian football, Rob? Whatever do you mean?”

It was Weatherby, and she looked confused. I elaborated.

“We played Central Scandinavian football in front of their goal,” I said. “All Swedish, no Finnish.”

She got the joke, but the rest of the media didn’t seem to. Of course, when you win, you’re more often funny in the eyes of the pundits. Today, I wasn’t funny at all. Standup must not be my thing.

# # #

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Monday, March 30

“Rob, please have a seat.”

I strode into Madejski’s office, holding a printout of the Evening Post’s webpage. The headline screamed: “On Boro’d Time: Ridgway Crisis Talks Today”.

“I guess I’d like to know how this happened,” I said, handing the piece of paper to Sir John. It wasn’t the optimal way to start a meeting with the boss, but I was angry enough to start out strongly even if it hurt my position later on.

Sidney Richmond sat across from me, with an expression on his face that suggested if he were a cat, he’d have a mouthful of canary. He didn’t say a word.

I figured there weren’t too many people who knew about the meeting plans and of that group I thought Sir John’s PA liked her job too much to talk with the press about the boss’ schedule.

Weatherby, for her part, was right on the mark in her online story about yesterday’s match. Yet, when she had news leaked to her of the meeting I was now entering, she couldn’t help but write what she knew.

Frankly, having taken that piece of paper off my printer this morning and carrying it to the club offices, I was surprised not to see media present in those areas of the office complex where they are allowed to go.

I supposed we wouldn’t have that luxury upon departure, though – it was nine o’clock in the morning and even though most sportswriters I know aren’t up until the crack of noon, I figured they’d be out in force for this.

Madejski and Richmond both realized, at the same time, that I was still standing. Sir John simply motioned to the chair again and I had to remember that even as angry as I was, I wasn’t running this conversation. I sat.

Then came a knock at the door. Knowing my morning routine, Sir John’s PA entered the room quickly and placed a steaming hot mug of coffee on the edge of Madejski’s desk, with a packet of creamer alongside it. Then she left, closing the door behind her. I thought that was a nice touch, even if Sir John did look a bit befuddled at the action.

Richmond was surprised as well. I used that to my advantage. I looked at him.

“See, you’re nice to people and they’re nice to you,” I said coolly, loading up my coffee with the creamer and taking my first sip.

“Rob,” Sir John said, with a cautionary tone. I could tell from the look in his eye, though, that he didn’t entirely mind the intent of my message.

“Right, let’s get on with this,” Richmond said. “Sir John, you know I don’t like the thought of Rob here climbing all over the staff I’ve recommended.”

“I did no such thing,” I insisted. “I was preparing for the Arsenal match, for crying out loud, and this fellow comes into my office demanding I drop everything. That isn’t done on the football side – and you know it.”

Madejski was rapidly losing control of the conversation as my board adversary and I locked horns once again. “I will not, I say again will not, have you treat staff of this club in such a cavalier fashion,” Richmond insisted. “You haven’t yet shown anyone you’re a threat to Sir Alex Ferguson’s reputation, so I suggest you mind yourself.”

“And I suggest, since we’re on the topic of treatment of club staff, that you practice what you preach, Mr. Richmond. I’m club staff as well.”

“For now, yes,” Richmond answered.

I was starting to get red in the face, and Sir John saw it. “Rob, Sidney, I want this discussion held as between civilized men, not savages,” he said. “Really, Sidney, you know you serve on this board at my pleasure – I’m the owner of this club and I will make the decisions on what happens to it. And Rob, you do know I brought you here and as such I can make any decision I like regarding your own future as well.”

“I’m acutely aware of that,” I answered, wondering if I was treading on dangerous ground. “But I also know that this is a successful football operation I’m running here and at least a part of the credit for match day success rests with the staff, as well as the manager who either brought that staff in or sustained it.”

“Egotist,” Richmond snorted.

“Speak for yourself,” I snarled. Now it was coming to a head.

“Rob, Sidney,” Sir John said patiently. “Of course you both have egos. You wouldn’t be at a Premiership club if you didn’t. Yet I need you both to understand that the only ego in this room that matters is mine.”

He looked at us both for emphasis. “Now, I value both of your positions with this club. Rob, you have done a wonderful job in your post and Sidney, your love of club and standing in the community is unmatched. I simply do not see why two strong-willed individuals like yourselves cannot see that the best way to succeed is to work together.”

“He thinks he’s a big player,” Richmond said. “Look at this whole Real Madrid mess – and it happened twice! I won’t stand for that!”

“You won’t stand for it,” I laughed. “Okay, how about I tell Bernd Schuster that from now on Real Madrid has to sell to us on your say-so?”

“Insolence!” Richmond exclaimed. “Raw insolence!”

“Reality,” I replied, in as calm a voice as I could muster. “Simple reality. In football, you do not always get what you want. I learned that as a player and I learned that in my later life as well.”

He tried to cut me off. I would have none of it.

“I’m not finished,” I said.

“You are when I start to talk,” he answered.

# # #

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Excellent as always my friend. :)

I've been trying to slow my reading down, resisting the urge to check in for a few days at a time, so as there's a bit more to read when I do.

Seriously though, Sidney Richmond is in dire need of a P45. ;)

That is actually one of my favourite aspects of your writing, your ability to create a tangible tension between some of your characters, in particular I enjoy the tension you build between Rob and Patty at times, as well as of course, with the 'dastardly' Sidney Richmond.

One question I have for you (if you don't mind), what are you going to do when FM2010 comes out??? :)

How to decide how far to carry the story, when surely you'll be 'itching' to get into the new game as soon as possible? Tough decisions indeed.

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Wow, lots of comments! Thanks for reading! Some thoughts: Balty, yes, we've been on a good run but as I've mentioned earlier, we've been fortunate in a lot of ways to get where we are. Copper, I appreciate your words as always! Mopphead, welcome to the Rat Pack! It's certainly true that Rob isn't afraid to litigate to get his way but in this case it might be going to the well once too often. I'll save my last comments for Bennico: I am a playtester for FM10 and frankly I find the temptation to play and write about it irresistible. So, I have am FM10 project in research and will be writing on it. However, I can't let go of this FM08 save because it's too much fun, and I've got too much emotional attachment invested in these characters. I will attempt to continue to run all three of my current stories (and I say this because I'm 45 pages into my FM10 research right now). It basically means I spend a free day playing all three versions and my evenings writing, but that's what I love to do anyway :)

___

“I said, I am not finished,” I said, shooting a look at him that was unmistakable. “I’ll tell you right now, Mr. Richmond: I don’t often swear, but wherever I spit, the grass dies. And you are making me spitting mad.”

He looked at me with a defiant expression – but he didn’t interrupt again. “I don’t know how things are where you stand, Mr. Richmond, but I’ll tell you how they are where I stand,” I said. “I’m going to do everything within my power to build this club’s fortunes until the owner tells me to clean out my desk. That means when I bid, I’ll get some players and that means I’ll lose out on some players.”

“I just want to ask you this, Mr. Richmond,” I said, closing the distance physically between me and my tormentor. “If you’re upset now when I’m running in fourth place and contending for the Champions League, how in the hell did you ever survive when Steve Coppell was here?”

He looked at me, his face reddening, and said nothing in reply.

“Rob, I think you’ve made your point,” Madejski said. “The secondary reason I wanted you both here today was to discuss the club’s future – which Rob is working to secure and which Sidney is working to help finance. We are hopefully going to have a banner season next year, and I want this club poised to take the maximum financial advantage. That means more use of new media, it means a better understanding of how to succeed in this financial environment, and it means doing the things that must be done to ensure success. And above all, it means acting like a team in the front office. Do I make myself clear?”

Richmond nodded but said nothing. So I replied in turn.

I looked at Sir John. “Perfectly,” I said. “I’m willing to work with whomever the club chooses, but I do want it known that when I’m in match preparation I am not available. That is all I ask. I have a personal assistant and I do feel I have the right to ask staff to respect my time when I am on the company clock. Either I do have that right or I don’t. I would like to know where I stand with you on this point.”

“Of course you do,” Sir John replied.

“Fair enough,” I said immediately. “With that understood, I am happy to make myself available to Mr. Richmond or to any club employee who wishes to further our stated goals. And I’d like to keep that out of the media, if no one minds.”

“How did this happen?” Sir John asked, handing the paper to my adversary.

Richmond reached into an inside pocket of his suitcoat and pulled out a pair of pince-nez, which just about floored me. If he thought he looked like Morpheus from The Matrix or something, he was sadly mistaken. He attached them over his nose and read Winterquist’s article.

His eyes narrowed as he read, his brow creasing into a furrow over slightly graying eyebrows. I could imagine his salt-and-pepper hair changing hue slightly as he read the words that had set me off entering the room. There could be no doubt who had leaked the information.

Reading manager Rob Ridgway has plenty on his plate today.

After a dominating but ultimately fruitless performance Sunday at the Riverside, the manager must now face down a board revolt against the leadership that has helped propel the Royals to the very cusp of the Champions League.

Yesterday’s setback in the Northeast has damaged Reading’s hopes of Champions League football next season, but with six matches left there is obviously still all to play for. Yet for at least one Reading board member, that isn’t good enough.

Crisis talks will be held today at the Madejski Stadium with an eye toward forcing the issue. The topic for discussion is the general direction of the club and a so-called ‘dictatorial’ atmosphere surrounding the American boss and certain of his staff.

Now is surely not the time to be discussing matters that are not vital to the success of the club. Yet matters have reached the point where there is no choice but to get the matter in the open. Sources close to the situation who asked not to be named for this story suggest a resolution will come quickly.

“I felt the need to approach the press,” he said simply, first returning the note to Sir John and then the pince-nez to his pocket.

I said nothing. There was no need for me to interject.

Madejski looked down at his desk for a long moment and then locked eyes with Richmond. He was composing himself. “For a man who claims to be concerned about the public image of Reading FC, I find this highly unprofessional, Sidney,” he finally said.

“I have the right to my opinion,” Richmond said simply. I wondered if he had built his fortune rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. I sat back in my chair, trying not to smile.

“I want my concerns addressed, John,” he added. “I think I have that right.”

“You do have that right,” Madejski said, throwing him a lifeline despite Richmond’s failure to use his honorific. “But this isn’t how you go about doing it. Now I’m going to have to say something to the press. What I’m going to say is that we are going to get on with the job. And we are going to work well with each other, Sidney. Do I make myself clear?”

He nodded. Madejski ended the meeting, and I headed for the training ground in the middle of a group of cameras, reporters and interested onlookers. That wasn’t what anyone had in mind – or was it?

# # #

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I'll save my last comments for Bennico: I am a playtester for FM10 and frankly I find the temptation to play and write about it irresistible. So, I have am FM10 project in research and will be writing on it. However, I can't let go of this FM08 save because it's too much fun, and I've got too much emotional attachment invested in these characters. I will attempt to continue to run all three of my current stories (and I say this because I'm 45 pages into my FM10 research right now). It basically means I spend a free day playing all three versions and my evenings writing, but that's what I love to do anyway

Ah, I see. I will look forward in anticipation of your FM2010 story. :)

Good luck with keeping all those plates spinning at the same time. ;)

As for my own 'prospective' story, I've really struggled 'getting into' FM09 for some reason. Never had that problem before, though didn't buy 08 as I was deeply into 07. FM09 is a good game, and I can't quite put my finger on what it is, but it somehow has just not felt 'immersive' enough to keep my interest for prolonged spells of game time. I am hopeful (from the trailers and blogs) that FM2010 will have the power to draw me into it's world sufficiently to capture my imagination like it has in the past, as it's important to me to be able to immerse myself fully into the 'game-world' environment. If my creativity is suitable stimulated, I will look forward to contributing something to the forum myself in the near future. :)

Keep up your good work, for one such as I, who loves creative writing, your story is very inspiring. :thup:

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You have enough praise, and I'm sure your head is too big to head out the door every morning, but I must add kudos to your dedication, with three different FM versions.

I'm personally glad you can't let go of these characters, and I'm keen to see where they go in the future, especially into a third season, hopefully in Europe!

PS I'm upset that Pompey are your nasty rivals. :(

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Salkster, you've caught a nuance regarding Copper's words about Rob. You're right -- he is experiencing success and it is changing him with regard to how he handles opposition. dechardonay, welcome to the Rat Pack! Thank you for your kindness. I would hope that the day my head fails to fit through the doorframe someone will either tell me or arrange for a lobotomy. As for rivals, Rob has nothing against Pompey, but, at least according to the match engine, Roland Nilsson has something against Rob!

___

“I have nothing to say,” I said, striding quickly across the car park toward the club’s training facility adjacent to the stadium. “The club will issue a statement.”

“Is your position under threat, Rob?” Weatherby asked.

“Not that I know of,” I said. “But really, that’s all I’m going to say. The club will make a statement and I have work to do this morning to start the preparations for Derby this weekend. If you’ll excuse me, please.”

With that, I entered the training complex through the club office door, through which media are not allowed. It was out of my way, but it was also a way out of my present difficulty.

I finally entered my office, tossing my kit bag onto the couch opposite my desk. Sighing heavily, I sat in my chair. No sooner had I done so than a knock came at the door.

It was Winthrop, turning my day from bad to worse.

“Hello, Rob,” he said, walking into my office and sitting down. “Got some time this morning?”

“Did Paula okay it?” I asked.

“She did,” he replied, handing me a slip of paper containing my schedule. She had penciled in Winthrop’s name and I did recognize her handwriting. I quickly checked my mobile scheduler to see that my PA had written a note.

“I’m sorry, Rob. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Can we please talk? – Paula”
I looked at Winthrop. “It seems you’re persistent,” I said. “To a point, that’s good. Now, I’m going to go run training, but if you want to talk with me for the website or for any other business purpose, you can come by at eleven. That’s the first break we have. I’ll ask Kevin Dillon to take training for the second hour and we’ll talk then. Fair?”

“The schedule says nine,” he said.

My schedule says eleven,” I answered. “Now, I will be happy to work with you, but I’ve just come from a meeting with the chairman and your friend Mr. Richmond. I think you’ll find over the next few minutes that it’s not wise to cross me on this matter. Are we clear?”

A look of understanding gradually crossed Willie’s face, though I’d have characterized it more as the look of a man who had been hit over the head with a pry bar.

“All right, then,” he answered. “I’ll see you at eleven, Rob. Please go to the Premier Suite at the stadium. We want to talk about the season and about next season as well.”

Now I smiled. Having asserted myself, there was no point rubbing it in. “Okay,” I answered. “Bring your best questions.”

# # #

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Newman! :)

___

Tuesday, March 31

Really, it wasn’t so bad.

I’m not talking about Winthrop. That interview was a comparative breeze. I’m talking about Martin, who called his daughter today and talked with her for two hours.

Patty has a lot on her plate at the moment. She feels like she’s at a crossroads and the undoubted sadness she feels at having to resort to legal action because of her own father is really dragging on her.

This morning she gave vent to that sadness in the form of a good cry on her husband’s shoulder. The fact that it came at four o’clock in the morning was a bit disconcerting, but she was having a bad dream and she needed to get over it.

So we talked, and in the end she said she simply wanted peace in her own family.

“Can’t blame you,” I said, absently stroking her hair and trying to talk through the fog which half-sleep had hung like a curtain over my eyes.

“I have to do something,” she said. “It’s my family. It’s your in-laws, Rob, I should think you’d want some resolution too.”

I rolled over, and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “Of course, hon,” I said. “I really don’t want to fight with Martin into old age. I think there have been times when he’s tried to be fair but to be honest, I really don’t think he likes me and I don’t think any conversation you have with him is going to change that.”

“We’ll see,” she said, her tears now dry. She snuggled against my shoulder. “I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be. After all, you married me, didn’t you?”

“Thank God, yes,” I teased, and she giggled in response. “Otherwise all this might be a bit difficult to explain to your mom.”

# # #

This morning, while I was at training, he called. It was hyper-early for him to be doing so, but then considering what is at stake, I’m sure he had slept about as much as we had.

“Look, you know I don’t have good feelings for Rob,” Martin had told her. “And really, after all that’s gone on and all the things he’s done, I don’t see how that is going to change. But you’re my daughter and I love you.”

“What has he done, Dad?” she asked. “Really, honestly, what has he done? What has he done to hurt me, and what has he done above all to hurt either you or Mom?”

“He has to look after you,” he said. “Honestly, Patty, I’ve told you this a million times. He’s all over the country, you’re all over the world, and after what happened in Italy last year I have absolutely no confidence in his ability to look after my daughter. You miscarried, for Pete’s sake – you were so worried about…”

She cut him off. “Dad, stop,” she warned. “No one knows why miscarriages happen and in any event, I wasn’t worried about Rob. I was worried about what your friend Peter McGuire might have in mind for me to try to save his own miserable skin!”

# # #

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Please tell me Martin is killed off sometime soon - whenever he's in a scene, I'm starting to get an uncontrollable urge to throttle the computer....the man is talking absolute ********s.

Anyway, all that tells me now is that you're doing a fantastic job - keep it up :D

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Viper, Balty, thanks for the comments ... I confess to a bit of surprise at the level of loathing Martin is creating. Good. :)

___

There were those who thought Derby wouldn’t survive in the Premiership this season. Yet Billy Davies has held his team in reasonable position for most of the year and they will enter our match this weekend in 15th place.

They don’t have a real star. They’ve been surviving on grit and guile, and we expect to see both of those positive traits when they come to see us.

I spent a fair bit of time with Maloney this morning, complimenting him on the improvement in his play at Boro, even though nothing he touched wound up in the net. In that respect, he was hardly unique among his teammates.

“Shaun, that’s the play I need to see from you,” I said. “That’s the kind of play that will get us into the Champions League and it’s the kind of play that will get you where you want to go in this game. I need to see that out of you on Saturday and this week I’m going to do everything I can to help you along that path. When you play box to box we are a different team, and that is the kind of play we have to have from this point forward from you. Am I clear?”

“Aye,” the Scotsman answered. “That felt good, how I played.”

“And it should,” I reiterated. “When you’re scoring goals and creating chances its easier for all of us.”

His feathers fluffed, Shaun went back to training. His return to form will solve a lot of our difficulties down the stretch.

# # #

Having issued the statement yesterday regarding Richmond, Sir John may have felt I now had some freedom of action with the press.

However, he hasn’t spent quite as much time around them as I have this season, and I now am the subject of a ‘special’ kind of scrutiny.

Heading back to my office after the afternoon session, I found Dillon seated in the coaches’ lounge area with the TV set on. He had a huge grin on his face and had evidently been humored by what he was watching.

“Oh, this is good, Rob,” he said. “You’re on Special 1 TV.”

I rolled my eyes. I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. Setanta Sports’ parody show, featuring puppetry in the shape of luminaries like ‘host’ Jose Mourinho, Sven-Goran Eriksson, Wayne Rooney and others, had now turned to me.

A big part of the ‘news’ format of the show is taking calls from managers who are identified by their first name and location. At the bottom of the screen, there was a call from “Rob – Berkshire” and The Special One was asking, kindly, whether the American had called the correct program.

“You do not speak the language correctly,” the host said. “You speak like they do in MLS.”

Whoever they had brought on to do ‘my’ voice had me pegged. I couldn’t deny that. “MLS is a three-letter word,” 'Rob' said, reflecting much of my feeling toward my homeland’s league. “And yes, I’ve called the right show. I want you to know I’m taking over.”

“You are the Special One?”

“I’m the Next One,” the ‘Ridgway’ voice said. I laughed out loud, but knew what that meant. I also thought back to Copper’s comments and wondered what I was really getting myself into. “And my wife is prettier than yours.”

The real Ridgway sighed heavily. “That is not good,” I said. “I’ll be hearing about that for years.”

As I walked to the practice pitch, I had a few words with myself about my persona. If that’s how people think I present myself, even in satire, I might want to think seriously about a few things.

# # #

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Woo I love "The Special One on Setanta Sport" gag.

I am sure Rob Berkshire be a great call in guest with the likes of Voyeur, Rafa, Sir Alex, Roy Keane and the the Ameobi-lovinig Dave from Newcastle.

This is still a great story for me to follow fervently with characters like many before had mentioned to be so naturally loathsome.

Seriously with a father-in-law like Martin, I think the Robert de Niro character in "Meet the Parents" is godsend.

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Just started reading this yesterday (or the day before that - can't remember). Very entertaining read. I've only reached the section just after your first ever friendly in Germany but to wait until the end to comment would probably have meant waiting a long time.

Many congrats on producing a very enjoyable read.

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Thanks to all for the comments ... Special1 TV is my favorite part of Setanta Sports that doesn't involve match days. Scottlee, welcome to the Rat Pack! You've got some reading in front of you, if you're going to get caught up. I hope you enjoy the tale!

Time now for a look around the world of football, as the calendar ticks over to April 2009..

___

Wednesday, April 1

World summary

England

Championship (promotion and playoff places only)

Sunderland 78, Fulham 77, Wigan 70, Ipswich 62, Coventry 61, Southend 60

League One (promotion and playoff places only)

Bristol City 84, Leeds 77, Peterborough 66, Walsall 64, Carlisie 63, Millwall 63

League Two (promotion and playoff places only)

Leyton Orient 77, Rotherham 71, Tranmere 70, Swindon 68, Brentford 68, Cheltenham 67, Darlington 65

Conference (promotion and playoff places only)

Rushden 75, Rochdale 71, Aldershot 71, Oxford 68, Kidderminster 64

Europe

Ligue One – Lyon 71, PSG 65, St. Etienne 53

Bundesliga – HSV 55, Werder Bremen 45, Mainz 43

Eredivisie – Feyenoord 65, PSV 64, AZ 56

Serie A – Inter 64, Jventus 58, Atalanta 57

SPL – Rangers 69, Celtic 67

La Liga – Madrid 63, Valencia 54, Barcelona 53

Our preparations for Derby on Saturday continued apace this morning. We’ll be at close to full strength for the rematch of the thrilling 4-4 draw we played earlier this season in the monsoon at Pride Park.

The talk of the training ground today was the Champions League qualifier between inter and Liverpool at Anfield last night. Those players who think big about qualification and are smart enough not to say so in my presence watched a goalless draw that puts Liverpool in decent position for the return leg.

Of course, United are still in the competition as well and hosted Porto at Old Trafford this evening in another quarterfinal so there is the possibility of the ‘defending champions’ syndrome rearing its ugly head in terms of getting back into Europe’s top club competition.

Obviously, that means we’d need to finish third to secure a Champions League qualifier next season if Liverpool wins the European Cup, which they are certainly capable of doing. It just means more exertion from the players at the time of year when everyone has to stand up and be counted.

Talk on the training ground has been pretty heady in recent weeks, but I used that talk to my advantage while working the squad.

“You all think you’re worth that third place spot,” I said, walking up and down the rows of players as we did our stretching exercises. “Well, let me tell you, Portsmouth didn’t think so. Chelsea didn’t think so. And for damn sure Middlesbrough didn’t think so. If that kind of finish is what you want, that’s great. I’ll bust my ass to help you get there. But you are going to have to raise your game, gentlemen. What we’re seeing now just isn’t good enough. Plain and simple. You’ve got a team coming in here that is just out of the relegation places, and you’d better handle them. Especially if you want to play in the big leagues next season.”

“Americanism,” Kitson laughed, sitting next to Kalou.

“Yeah, Dave, Americanism,” I replied, turning my gaze upon him. “The ‘bush leagues’ are another Americanism. That’s where you go when you don’t measure up. What are you going to do to make sure we don’t wind up there?”

He didn’t say a word in reply. He hadn’t meant to cross me, but I used his words to make a point. The stretching resumed, followed closely by a sharp, quick, clean training session. In short, it was just what the doctor ordered for Derby.

# # #

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Toffee, thanks for reading! I think I know which words you're referring to. :)

___

The first Rob Ridgway interview is posted on the new Reading FC website thanks to William Winthrop. He sat in his office viewing the web stream and looked at the screen with a smile.

“Well done, Willie,” Richmond said from behind him.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” Winthrop said, turning with a start. The director was leaning against the doorpost, looking at the output on the marketer’s large monitor.

“I try not to let people know when I’m around,” he replied. Winthrop laughed, knowing full well that Richmond’s words were said with tongue planted firmly in cheek.

“We’re just about done with the preliminary plan for marketing a European season next year,” Winthrop said, handing Richmond a sheaf of papers. He entered the room to accept them and stood next to the marketer at the younger man’s computer editing suite.

“Ridgway will hate this. I’m sure he’ll tell you he’s too busy concentrating on football to do his part. But this is good stuff and we need to do this to make money,” Richmond said with a laugh as he looked through the stack. He’ll have to go along with this or there’ll be hell to pay. After all, the ‘Next One’ isn’t perfect, even though he’s quite sure of his own invincibility.”

“He’s a hard nut to crack,” Winthrop admitted.

“But not impossible,” Richmond said softly. “We’ll get him to see our side of things or I’ll figure out a way to be rid of him. John won’t own the club forever. The players that are here are good enough to spin a lot of money for us next season, and the key players are all signed through next year. In the main, we have Steve Coppell to thank for the way this club is built, not Rob Ridgway.”

Richmond lit a thin cigar. He paused for a moment and looked at the marketer. “There’ll be another good season here next year whether or not Mr. Rob Ridgway is our manager. He doesn’t seem to realize that, but I certainly do.”

“I think I’ve figured it out too,” I said, as both men wheeled at the surprise of my presence behind them. “Mr. Richmond, I try not to let people know when I’m around either.”

# # #

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WelshWolf, thanks for the post and the kind words. I hope to keep holding your interest in the coming weeks!

___

Thursday, April 2

Manchester City did us a favor last night.

They knocked off Arsenal 1-0 at the Emirates and that is good news for us. It’s not as good as it might have been since Arsenal is two places above us in the table, but anything that keeps a rival closer at this stage of the season is something we have to cheer. Emile Mpenza’s strike eight minutes from time was the difference maker and it has us smiling today.

Another of our future opponents, West Brom, is starting to play better as well. They played Everton to a goalless draw last night at the Hawthorns and the last thing we need is a club fighting for its life playing well right when we are ready to face them. Figures.

West Ham put one of the final nails in Cardiff City’s Premiership coffin last night with a 2-1 win at Ninian Park. Newcastle and Bolton slogged to a 1-1 draw, and in a match of more importance to us, Manchester United beat Porto 1-0 at Old Trafford in the Champions League quarterfinals thanks to a Carlos Tevez strike that has them on the cusp of the semifinals. A goal in Portugal should be enough to see them through.

# # #

Today was my ‘official’ media gaggle for the weekend, and that meant the return of some of the national press to Berkshire. Frankly, it’s been good not to have them around this week.

Of course, that meant Emiliani was back as well. Now sporting his spring haircut, which involves his close-cropped head looking even more bullet-shaped than usual, he was in fine form as he led my questioning today.

“So, what does ‘The Next One’ have to say about Derby County?” he asked, flattening out his Italian accented-English into a more Americanized sound. The onlookers either laughed or winced, depending on how well they knew me.

“I don’t do imitations,” I deadpanned. “And neither should you, Stefano. After all, I don’t impersonate a journalist. Well, in your case I’ll make an exception.”

“I have this much to say to you,” I added. “We’ve got a very big match coming up this weekend and I don’t appreciate the shenanigans that I am seeing in and around this club.”

Heads turned, and Weatherby’s attention snapped to me. “What do you mean, Rob?” I asked.

It was time to bring matters to a head with Sidney Richmond. It was a dangerous game to play but I had a point to make and I wanted my way clear to do what I had to do. “Jill, I know Sidney Richmond came to you with the story about the meeting I had with him and Sir John the other day,” I said. “I also know that he is working to have me removed as manager of this club.”

With that, scribes started to write furiously. “Now, the only person who is going to make that decision is Sir John,” I added. “I’ve been told by the club’s owner that I am not in any worry at the present time over my position. But frankly, I am annoyed by someone who is not in a position of overall authority at the club making reference to my job security when I am trying to position this club for entry into the Champions League.”

“Rob, you need to have proof to make that kind of allegation,” Weatherby said, writing as fast as she could herself while she talked.

I smiled thinly. “Jill, I do,” I said. “Frankly, I’m upset that I have to resort to this but I’ve had enough. My players deserve better and so do the people of Reading. They want to see a winner and they want to see everyone associated with their club pulling in the same direction. I was in the room when the conversation took place.”

“Unless you have a transcript…” she began in reply.

“I wouldn’t say this unless I did,” I answered. “It’s all here.” I pulled a recorder out of my pocket. I had kept my promise to Richmond from before the Arsenal match but more importantly, I had kept my promise to myself. Weatherby still hasn’t written her opinion piece on the whole matter yet and I wanted my fair share of the input into her output, if you will.

Weatherby raised her eyebrows, and you could have heard a pin drop in the room. I thought of Copper Horse in the northeast, remembered his temperament toward people who had pushed him too far, and wondered if what I was doing, on the spur of the moment, was really a good idea after all.

Still, though, if I’m as big a jerk as he thinks I am, I should probably start acting like it.

# # #

The other story of the day, besides my preparation for Derby this weekend, was a story from Madrid that was both surprising and unsurprising at the same time.

Real Madrid leads La Liga by nine points at the present time, in the middle of the stretch run, and looks set to retain their title. However, today’s story from the Madrid newspapers was that Bernd Schuster might not be back next season.

That bit of news is part and parcel of managing the Galacticos, but it did come as a surprise to me. I think Bernd has done a fine job there and being that far ahead of Barcelona isn’t easy under any circumstances.

The Madrid press, though, strained credulity by suggesting that Rob Ridgway of Reading is being considered as a potential replacement alongside Ernesto Valverde, Mané and some fellow self-monikered “The Special One”. And in this case, they mean the real one.

Emiliani cornered me on that as I left the ground today. “What about that Madrid job, Rob?” he asked.

“What about it? Great climate, wonderful weather, pressure that will kill you.”

“Any interest?”

“Are you trying to get me fired?” I asked. Then I thought my words through.

“Never mind that, Stefano. I wasn’t thinking. Of course you are. I think I need to concentrate on what’s happening here. That’s how I need to operate.”

“Look at it this way, Rob,” he said to my back as I headed for my car. “That way, you’d at least get to manage Gúti and Baptista.”

# # #

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Ohhhhh, the irony...a wonderful post and this Sidney Richmond is a piece of work! I think you've outdone yourself in regards to my feelings of loathing towards Richmond. Maguire was bad, Emiliani is mean, but Richmond is just evil...I hope he gets his just desserts in a manner fitting his "slimy-ness!"

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Gentlemen, thank you ... this story arc was a lot of fun to write! ToffeeViola, you're quite right. This sort of thing ISN'T done, which is why Rob is taking a rather big chance.

___

Friday, April 3

Derby County’s players and staff arrived this afternoon for our showdown tomorrow at the Mad Stad. We’re ready, we’re reasonably healthy, but the non-Richmond headlines are dominated today by William Gallas.

The Arsenal fullback has lit into his manager, Arsene Wenger, and not for the first time. The Chelsea expatriate is frustrated at the way the side has been playing in recent weeks, perhaps due to the fact that he hasn’t been in that side.

The Gunners’ onetime skipper is falling out of favor, and to my mind, the best way to get back into that favor is not to complain about your team’s setup to the Mail.

Methinks Gallas is in for a first-class roasting from Wenger, and if he isn’t careful, he might play his way right out of North London. This wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for a number of reasons.

Most managers detest when their players go the press, but they’ll abide it the first time so they can administer discipline to the player. Twice indicates a pattern, and I’d be surprised if Gallas lasts without some sort of official sanction this time.

So if he plays his way out of Arsenal, that’s good for us as a team that is chasing them since he can still play. Second, if he gets his head on straight, that’s the kind of player who can come back to haunt a former team.

It’s no secret around the league that while I have been generally pleased with the offensive play of our team, I’m on the prowl for a couple of defenders who can rise to a world-class level. Gallas, for all his trouble, is certainly one of those kinds of players. He’s a manager’s nightmare if he isn’t happy, though, and that might give a lot of men pause. Yet if he is happy, he can do a lot of good for a team. He’s just someone to think about.

Our preparations for the match also had a bit of a secondary tone due to another Premier League story that broke today. I’m being linked again with another club, and this one is a little more sensible to consider.

It’s Everton, which is reportedly having a hard time convincing David Moyes that the place to be is in the blue part of Liverpool. It would certainly be ironic, after his published comments about me, to entertain thoughts of being part of the Merseyside derby.

That strikes me as funny. It didn’t, however, strike Sir John as especially humorous, which shouldn’t have surprised anyone.

The bookies have me on Everton’s shortlist, along with Harry Redknapp, ex-Manchester City boss Stuart Pearce and Mick McCarthy as favorites to succeed Moyes should something happen. If not, we’ll just sit tight. Frankly, I’d prefer that.

There’s also been considerable fallout over my very public calling out of Sidney Richmond yesterday. The director himself hasn’t said a word, which surprised me a bit. I had expected an instant riposte. I also gave my recorder to Madejski so he could hear what’s being said about his manager behind his back.

Frankly, that was a heck of a lot smarter than going to the press, but frankly I’ve had it with Sidney Richmond. I’ve been assured and reassured that I’m on good ground with the owner of this club, but it’s time to turn that favor into something approaching peace. It is just time.

I gave him the recorder without a word today. “I had to,” I explained.

“You should have let me handle it,” Madejski replied. “Really, Rob, that is the sort of thing Sidney detests – our name in disrepute.”

“It isn’t the name of the club that is in disrepute,” I said. “It’s mine. Sidney Richmond has said what he has wanted to say, when he has wanted to say it, in direct disregard of what I know are your expressed wishes on this topic. It’s time to take him to task and I’m only too happy to do it.”

“What happens, Rob, if public sentiment were to turn toward him? What would I do then?” he asked. “What would you have me do?”

“Sir John,” I replied, “if that ever became the case, you’d be on good ground to sack me. I couldn’t deny that. But the fact of the matter is pretty plain. I would have to have gone on such a run of results that my position wouldn’t be tenable anyway. If Sidney Richmond ever gets to the point where he’s more popular than I am, you wouldn’t have to fire me because I’d have already resigned.”

He mulled it over. “I understand,” he finally said. “Still, it is time for resolution here. The club needs Sidney Richmond where he is – on the board and contributing to success. That is my word and I do expect you to abide by it. The damage someone like he can cause in the greater community due to his forceful opinions can’t be foreseen. So I have to keep him close, if you understand my meaning. That means from this moment on, you will need to be circumspect so I can deal with him. Do I make myself clear?”

I nodded.

“Good. Please, Rob, continue to get the results you’ve been getting. For your sake, it’s essential. We are happy with the bottom line at the club at the moment, results are good and it does look like you have us bound for Europe. Yet you do need to finish the job. If you don’t, he will gain what he wants and I won’t be able to protect you.”

It hit me like a ton of bricks. “You mean I’m sacked if we don’t get to Europe?”

“It would mean a complete collapse, and that wouldn’t be acceptable,” he said. “Due to your early success, you raised the bar on yourself. So we must progress. We must succeed. That is your doing as much as anyone’s at this club, Rob, and you must be mindful of it.”

“I didn’t come here to lose,” I said, as bravely as I could.

“Good man,” Madejski replied. “Now, you have a job to do and so do I. I suggest we both do them.”

# # #

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Methinks Rob just planted his own foot straight into his mouth. :p

That said, given you've been talking about a second season, I'm going to assume that you were either a) successful in attaining that European spot, or b) weren't sacked, meaning you will find a way to get Richmond out of the picture.

I'm punting for a)! :)

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Balty, Rob is miscalculating. Good catch, as you shall soon see. As for the choices, yes, I have written about Season Three of the Ridgway story, but unless I've missed my guess I haven't tipped my hand as to where that story will take place. Copper, always with the unexpected third option :)

___

Of course, the national press is also all over the news of yesterday. An enterprising photographer snapped a picture of me holding up my recorder yesterday and it was all over the papers.

“Richmondgate” was Weatherby’s headline this evening, along with the opinion that one of us would be gone from the club before season’s end.

That wouldn’t be surprising. All I have to do is keep my mouth shut and that person may very well be Richmond. However, when it comes to the director, I am having an increasingly difficult time staying out of the fray. I ought to be more worried about the run-in of this team, but right now I have a two-front war not of my making. It’s demanding my time and it’s making me tired.

# # #

Saturday, April 4

Reading (16-12-4, 5th place) v Derby County (8-9-15, 15th place) – EPL Match Day #33

I lay awake much of the night worrying about Madejski’s words and what their real meaning might be.

Beside me, Patty dozed prettily, seemingly without a care in the world. I certainly don’t mind that. I love the thought of my wife finally being at peace, even if the circumstances that got her to that state of peace have been darned unpleasant for both of us.

I do think I overplayed my hand with Richmond. Weatherby is still all over the statement I made the other day – face it, a manager doesn’t call out a board member without expecting some sparks to fly – but I have the advantage of having the hometown newspaper reporter more or less on my side.

Jill has been tough on us when the situation has warranted, but I can’t say she’s ever been unfair. I can’t say that about all the press.

Hopkins of Setanta Sports has covered us for most of the season and he’s gone for the sensational when he thought it could help his ratings. That’s what television guys do. Emiliani and I are in an undeclared state of war and while he can make things uncomfortable for me, he can’t bring me down. He’s not in the English press and he knows that as the saying goes in American politics, he’d have to find a way to prove I’m not made out of Teflon.

I don’t know that he necessarily hates me or even wants to get rid of me. What he knows is that when he gets a rise out of me, I’m good copy for him, and that makes people want to read what he writes. Patty, on the other hand, absolutely detests him for what he wrote when she and I first started seeing each other.

Patty lived in Venice at the time, as I’ve documented, and I lived in Padua when we started to see each other. The fact that the clubs based in those cities don’t care for each other was really no reason to treat us like the Montagues and Capulets. It just was never that severe a problem.

Yet, the world of journalism means you need to find something to write about, that will make the average combustible football fan want to pick up a copy of your paper or give a hit to your website. That’s just how it is. And Patty never forgave Emiliani for it.

She woke up and saw that I was fretting. “You aren’t seriously worrying about your job, are you?”she asked.

“I suppose I should learn to trust Sir John, but yes, I suppose I am,” I said.

“Put that thought out of your head,” she said. “Look, honey. You need to understand what it is you’ve done here.”

I was surprised she was so lucid at 3:16 in the morning, but evidently she had been thinking about this too. “You went to Italy, you won two trophies, you came here and are leading this club to the best season it has ever had, and you’re worried?”

“I don’t care for the politics here,” I said.

“Well, fine,” she replied. “But it’s a big world, Rob. Look around it. How many clubs, even here in England, would like to give you the chance to take them over and see what you can do? West Ham? Everton? Who knows who else? How about back in Italy? You think Padova wouldn’t mind having you back? They’re about to get relegated, Rob. You put them up there and now whoever is there can’t keep them up.”

She snuggled me. “Rob, there are clubs out there who have second, third and sometimes fourth-choices managing them. Do you honestly think, in your heart of hearts, that if things went really bad here that someone else would not want you?”

I leaned back, my head pressing down into the pillows. She reached over and stroked my face, leaning her head against my chest.

“I will always want you,” she said. “I hope that’s more important to you than a football club.”

I couldn’t argue with her. So I didn’t try.

# # #

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Bob, that made me grin. We don't have a gate scandal, but how do you feel about an admissions scandal?

___

Really, there was nothing else for me to do but talk to Maloney. He was so close, and yet so far.

“Shaun, we need a performance out of you today,” I said, after calling the midfielder into my office before we left for the ground. “You’re so close, and what I see from you in recent matches tells me that you’re right on the edge of great things. But we need more. We have to have more from you, and I’m confident you can give it to us.”

The Scotsman nodded. “I feel like I can do it,” he said. “I just haven’t taken my chances.”

“Well, now’s a great time for you to start,” I said. “I hate reading the things the supporters write on the blogs about me. I don’t want them to start writing about you, because you’re better than that.”

He smiled. “Club policy, gaffer – no blogs,” he said, and I waved at him in response.

“Yeah, yeah,” I answered. “For players. Management needs to know where the next knife to the throat is coming from. I just want to see you playing like you did when you came here. When you played like that we couldn’t be stopped. I don’t mean to place so much pressure on you, but really, Shaun, we need you to do this. You give us a dimension that other teams don’t have when you are finding space. When you are looking for places to put the ball as the raider, teams have a hard time stopping that. We need you now, Shaun. I think you can do it.”

Maloney left to sit in front of his locker, thinking hard on what I had told him. Usually I don’t tell players I need a performance from them because if they snap under that pressure they snap all the way through.

Yet there’s an inner confidence in Maloney – I daresay a cockiness – and I saw it when he was at Celtic. He thought he was the baddest dude on the block when he was out there, and I need that attitude now. So I did my best to find it inside his mind.

Without a word, Dillon came into the office and sat himself down on the couch opposite my desk. “Rob, we do need a game out of Maloney,” he said. “So you did the right thing.”

“Thanks,” I answered. “Besides, whether I do the right thing or not isn’t something I can change at the moment. He knows expectations and I know my own expectations. We need points today and we need them badly.”

# # #

Chelsea played in the FA Cup semifinals today against Everton, which obviously meant we could gain ground on the top spot. United plays Spurs in the other FA Cup semifinal tomorrow.

With Arsenal playing at 19th placed Birmingham today, we couldn’t count on help from our fellow Premiership clubs to get us where we wanted to go. We had to do it ourselves.

The mood of the early arrivals at the stadium was nervous. Walking to the players’ entrance today with Patty on my arm, the onlookers stood quietly. Usually I find them gregarious, wanting autographs or sometimes pictures. Today, they just watched us pass. The pressure is being felt everywhere, not least among our loyal supporters.

She headed to the 1871 Suite to watch the match from upstairs and I was very pleased to have her in the same building as I was. That in itself means a lot both to my psyche and to my sense of well-being. She has her job, but I have mine and I need to know she supports me in it. She did it when we woke up this morning and she was now doing it all over again at the ground.

Before she left, we shared a quiet word outside the players’ area.

“Just enjoy,” I said. “Let’s find something fun to do afterward and just unwind.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” she replied. “I’ll scheme. How does that sound?”

“I like it when you scheme,” I grinned. “Last time you did that we wound up in the Caymans.”

“I can’t promise that, but I can promise something creative.”

Blushing, I kissed her goodbye-for-now and returned to my job.

# # #

Winthrop stood outside the 1871 Suite and watched Patty entering. He nodded to her and couldn’t help but suppress a smile.

“Hello, Mrs. Ridgway,” he said, and my bride smiled at him as she walked past. Patty put her coat in the coat check and headed off to the viewing area to sit for the match.

Winthrop turned to a man who now appeared at his immediate right. “She’s amazing,” he said. “And you know her?”

“Oh, yes, I know her. Better than most.”

“So tell me, how is it that your company is still associated with the club?” Winthrop asked.

“Because we do good work,” McGuire answered. “And really, that is all that matters to Sir John. I’m just glad you’re the one who has to put up with her arse of a husband. If I had to do it, I’d choke him as sure as you’re standing here.”

# # #

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